#I genuinely just bought it to eventually to on-hands research for theories

[dannybobany]

I BEAT KAYCEES MOD … IM FINALLY FREEEEEEEE !!!

[bluemoon-writer]

Childhood Friends AU: Max and Markov (Marxkov)

Part 1- In which Max ‘makes’ a friend

(2.6k words)

Masterlist Here

A/N: I got a bit carried away while writing and this became less of a list of bubbly making headcanons and more of a tragic origin story, so it’s a little different from the Marikim headcanons, so let me know what you guys think.

------

-Max’s mother, Claudie, gets pregnant with him at age 18

-he was an accidental pregnancy

- his father, Adam Kante, had just enlisted in the French Armed Forces and his mother was just starting university

-it wasn’t ideal circumstances, but his parents loved each other and didn’t want to give up

-So his dad proposed, and was stationed in Paris until Max was born

-unfortunately, then he was sent off to an overseas base

-Luckily, Claudie’s brother steps up to help out.

-Two years older than his sister, he was very different from her and her husband. While both of them were disciplined and fact oriented, he was more laid-back

-His dream was to be a stand-up comedian, and his stage name was Mark Oz

-He worked at night so he was able to watch Max during the day so Claudie could go to school

-With Adam away for so long, Mark became a father figure of sorts to Max

-They would spend most of the day together, and Mark realized early on that he had a child-genius on his hands

-So he bought extra learning material for Max

-He encouraged Max as much as could to peruse whatever academics interested

-Max was only 3 though, so nothing truly interested him more than Transformers

-Mark played the cartoon as background noise one day, and Max was instantly hooked

-He watched every episode

-For his birthday, he received only Transformers figurines

-when he started school he would draw new transformers in Art class

-For his 5th birthday, his mom bought him a robotics kit (a child-friendly robotics kit)

-and his Uncle bought him a coding Manuel

-Max found his new passion

-him and his uncle spent days building simple robots

-he was so fascinated by robots that he spent most of his free time learning more

-he dreamed about one day creating his own transformer

-and his Uncle helped him.

-He was never super academic but was still had the family brains.

-He full heartedly threw himself into Max’s passion

-inadvertedly, it helped his career. He created one of the most unique stand up comedy routines ever heard in Paris, those lucky enough to see it raved about it for years

-Mark Oz was finally hitting it big time, and he did not give a shit

-the only person he cared about making smile everyday was his nephew

-together, the two of them continued to hone Max’s robot building skills

-Mark bought a big black notebook and in it he wrote down every robot Max wanted to build

-max would dictate the details and Mark would write it, and then Max would attach a picture he drew of it

-despite being a child genius, he was still a child and had atrocious handwriting

-Slowly they were crossing robots off the list, starting with the most simple

-a basic walking robot

-eventually, and Mark didn’t know how long it would take, but they’d get to their last robot

-a fully functioning AI

-When Max turned seven he started taking advanced classes

-His mom had just finished her PhD, one of the youngest ever to complete the program, and was considering applying to become an astronaut

-Both Mark, Max, and her husband encouraged her to go for. Adam offered be discharged from the military to look after Max, but Mark insisted that he wouldn’t mind taking care of Max

-“Neither one of you should put your dream jobs on hold. I’ve been watching Max for seven years, I love the kid, and I’ll take care of him for the rest of my life if he still wants me around.”

-And Mark kept that promise

-Unfortunately, he kept it because his life was cut short.

-It was after a late show, the driver was intoxicated and didn’t see Mark crossing the street.

-Claudie withdrew from the astronaut program and took up a job as a train driver so she could be around for Max

-Adam returned from his deployment, but things just weren’t the same. He enlisted in a third campaign after a month

-Max was devasted. His uncle was the only one who understood him.

-He didn’t speak a word to anyone for a year.

-His mom is concerned, but therapists insist that Max just needs time

-Meanwhile, Max works his way through his robot list.

-His mom offers to help him, but he refuses.

-If he can’t build them with his uncle then he’ll build them alone

-a year later he’s halfway through the list

-His mom almost cries when he asks her to come see his robots

-He spends the entire day showing her the different ones and explaining what they do

-After that, their relationship improves greatly. Max talks a lot about everything he’s interested in

-Claudie is barely able to keep up

-She’s afraid that he might have an unhealthy attachment to his robots though, and is afraid of what will happen when he completes his list

-So she introduces him to a new hobby, video gaming

-Mark had tried to get Max into it a few times but Max was more interested in Robotics and programming at the time

-Now though, in memory of his uncle, he gives it a go

-and fucking loves it

-He and his mom spend the weekend playing old games that his uncle had

-He doesn’t give up on his robots though

-Two years later, he’s down to the very last robot on his list

-His father comes home that same week, his three year campaign ended

-Once Max started speaking again, his father would video call him. Max would show him his latest robot, and his father, who didn’t know a thing about robots, would ask him as many questions as he could come up with about it

-It was slightly awkward at first, seeing his dad in person, but soon it faded away

-Max still didn’t want help with his robots, but he was more than happy to play video games with his father

-his dad was skilled, particularly in fighting games, and Max almost never beat him

-at first

-his dad taught him a few tricks, and Max practiced and practiced until he could beat his dad

-Max was doing pretty good

-Still, though, he seemed to have an aura of sadness around him

-His dad asked him one day what games he liked to play with his friends

“I don’t have friends”

-It was the advanced classes. They were filled with older kids, and none of them wanted to befriend a 10 year-old

-His parents decided to pull him out at the end of the year.

-For college, he’d be going to a regular (though very good) school with kids his own age

-Francois Dupont had a great reputation, and offered him an academic scholarship

-His dad enlisted in another campaign

-Max was sad to see him leave, but was feeling happier than he had been in a while

-He continued to work on his last robot

-He turned 11 and started school at Francois Dupont

-He had no idea how to interact with kids his own age

-He was seated next to a hyperactive kid who introduced himself as Kim

-They were in the very front row and Kim joked that the teacher was already trying to keep an eye on them

-it wasn’t very funny, but Max almost fell over laughing

-“Wow, if you thought that was funny, just wait till you meet my friend Marinette!”

-“I’m sorry its just that…I would never disrupt class. Knowledge is the most valuable thing we can gain, and I intend to gain as much as I can.”

“I don’t know man, that sounds kind of like something a mad scientist would say.”

“well, I am trying to build the world’s first sentient AI in my mom’s basement.”

-Being at a regular school is a relief to Max

-The homework is extremely easy in comparison to what he’d been doing before, which gives him more time to work on his robot

-(bare with me through this next part guys, I do not know anything about science, mechanics, or engineering so this will probably be a heaping load of bullshit)

-the biggest difficulty in the creation of this robot was not creating an AI, many people have done that before, but rather figuring out how to allow it to feel without programming emotions into it

-Max had been doing a lot of research on Markov chains lately

-He believed that being able to code the ability to predict events would lead to a breakthrough on how to code the comprehension of emotions

-but the Markov process and chains were extremely complicated

-but, Max was out of ideas

-so he spent weeks reading about all the research and experiments. He read about modern day applications of it, analyzed the codes he could get his hands on

-and then he made his own.

-He didn’t need his AI to study systems, but rather humans

-ideally, if he did his code right, the AI would scan the web for all examples of human behavior to catalog and process it. Hopefully, then it would gain the ability to comprehend human emotion

-Max figured he would know if it worked if it was able to predict how people would react to different things being said to them

-sure enough, he was right…in a way

-Max didn’t think he’d be able to achieve true sentience like what the transformers had

-He was trying to give his AI the ability to understand emotions, not the ability to feel

-and yet, somehow, from the first day the robot was online, he seemed to have emotions

-it confounded Max

-He spent all of winter break talking to the robot

-trying to determine if it really felt

-He started just by talking to it

-it had access to all the knowledge on the internet, yet it seemed to have trouble grasping many theories about philosophy and morals

-Max accidentally stayed up the entire night discussing moral relativism with it

-He counted it’s ability to ask questions and hold a conversation in it’s favor

-however, that’s what Max was aiming for in the first place, and it didn’t convince him it had feelings

-he had to admit though, he truly hoped it did as he was quickly considering the robot as his first true friend

-in the weeks they spent talking Max told the robot his life’s story

-and the robot replied with genuine sympathy

-Max connected with it in a way that he’d only connected with one other person before

-he showed it a video of his uncle’s stand up routine

-when the robot started laughing Max was blown away

-not by the laugh, but by it’s reaction to it

“Oh no! Max, I am afraid I had a malfunction! Do you think it is possible for auditory signals to transmit a virus?”

“What? No, that’s laughter. It’s natural, especially when you’re listening to someone as funny as my uncle.”

“Yes, the brother of your mother. You mentioned he had a career as a comedian, and a quick scan of the web shows that he was quite successful.”

“Yeah, he was.”

“You sound sad. Were you close?”

(it’s only because it’s a robot and has advanced hearing sensors that it’s able to hear Max’s “Yes”)

-Max really hopes the robot truly is sentient

-What finally convinced him is when he heard it cry

-He’d left it in the basement to get eat dinner, promising to be back in half an hour

-but got drawn in to a round of video games with his mother

-sure enough, a few hours past before Max remembered he left the robot in the basement

-he shrugged it off as an accident until he got to the basement door and heard quiet sobs

-when he went down the stairs it was the robot crying

-when Max came into hearing range, the sounds stopped

“Max! You’re back! I thought you had abandoned me!”

-it didn’t seem possible, but Max could hear the happiness in the robot’s voice

-in that moment, Max made a decision

-“How do you feel about the name Markov?”

“Like the chains?”

“Yes, but Markov also sounds like…Mark Oz.”

“…I would be honored to be named after someone who was so important to you.”

-Max introduces Markov to his mom

-She’s literally at a loss for words

-like, she knew Max was a genius, but this was something on a whole other level

-She’s incredibly proud though

-and wants to tell everyone about it

-But Max stops her

-Markov isn’t just a robot, he’s a sentient being, and more importantly, he’s his friend

-if people learned about him, they would want to take him apart to figure out how he works

-Max doesn’t want that and neither does Markov

-So his mother keeps silent

-Plus there’s still more work to be done

-Markov might be built, but there’s still a lot that could be improved

-For starters, he’s huge

-Max built him out of three old computer monitors and can’t even lift him

-luckily, Max doesn’t have to do all the work himself

-Markov creates the blueprint for a smaller body

-they go from three monitors to two to two

-but it is slow going

-the first downsize took six months because Max didn’t want to risk accidentally destroying Markov

-he’s the happiest he’s been in a while

-but Markov thinks he could be even happier

-Max hasn’t been interacting with his classmates much

-he’s on good terms with them. No one trips him or throws things at the back of his head, and he talks to some of them every now and then

-his seatmate, Kim, asks him how he’s doing every morning

-Max doesn’t realize that he could be getting an even better experience out of school

-but Markov does, he’s analyzed enough books to know that it’s vital for a young child to have multiple human friends

-so he encourages Max to reach out

-Max is hesitant, but asks Kim if he wants to come over and play video games sometime

-Kim’s response is a resounding HELL YES

-(minus the swear word bc he’s like 11)

-Max is nervous as all hell, but the moment he has a game controller in his hands it goes away

-Kim is pretty tough competition, but Max still wins most of the time

-before they know it, it’s dark outside

-The next day when they need to partner up for an assignment, Kim asks Max if he wants to be partners

-Max smiles for a week straight

-With Markov’s encouragement, Max slowly befriends most of his classmates

-He’s particularly close with his seatmate Kim and a girl from Class A named Alix

-He also meets Kim’s friend Marinette, who’s in Class A with Alix

-and her friend Nino

-Still, Max considers Markov to be his best friend

-He sits in the basement with him everyday and tells him everything that happened that day

-Markov eagerly listens to all of it

-he wants more than anything to be able to go out and things for himself.

-but for now he’s stuck in the basement

-he’s sure that one day Max will make him small enough to transport

-for now, he’s happy to listen to his best friend’s stories

-----

Bonus:

------

A/N: I didn’t mean to make Max’s life so tragic, I swear.

If you want to be added to the childhood friends taglist or removed from it, please send me an ask or message me.

Taglist:

All Miraculous Ladybug fics:

@ravennightingaleandavatempus @crazylittlemunchkin

All Childhood AU fics:

@charlietheepic7 @krispydefendorpolice​

[danetobelieve]

I Don’t Pinot What To Say || Skylar and Winston

Winston hadn’t abused their parents trust in a few months now. But it had been years since they had used one of their parents trip to see one of their siblings out of state as an excuse to do something that they wouldn’t necessarily appreciate. Like inviting a girl over to get drunk. Except it wasn’t like it sounded. Ricky had done what they thought was right and ultimately Skylar was doing better for it. But they couldn’t help but wonder if now that their trust had been irrevocably broken if things would have to change between Ricky and Skylar. But Winston was trying to do their best to keep clear of this. It wasn’t really their business and they didn’t want to have to choose between two of their friends. As their came a knock at their front door, they pulled the large green door open and smiled at Skylar before nodding for her to follow. “Come in, come in,” they said quietly, “I promise that I have four other older siblings and that is why this house is so unreasonably large now.” Their parents had had their family home built before Winston was born and though it was well worn now, they wouldn’t change it for the world. “... how are you doing?” They tried not to wince at their own question. After all, it was the elephant in the room but it was a little uncomfortable and they weren’t sure that Skylar was ready to talk yet. 

Skylar sighed as she walked up to the front door of the large house, the wine bottles in her backpack clinking quietly against each other as she walked. It was nice of Winston to offer their parent’s place as like… neutral drinking ground. After last weekend, she really didn’t want anything to do with their house, just to avoid seeing Ricky. Knocking on the door, Skylar’s hands fidgeted at her side as she waited for them to open the door. She didn’t usually drink, but this seemed like one of the safest and more responsible ways to do it. And, honestly, the cheapest. “Hi. It’s a really pretty house.” She said politely. It wasn’t a lie either. Like most of the homes around White Crest, the house had a really cute New England charm to it. “Mmm. I’m… Ugh. Wine first.” She mumbled, setting her backpack on the counter and taking out a few of the bottles. “White or red? Or rose, I’ve got that too.” She said, with a slightly sheepish grin. “It takes a lot for me to even get tipsy.”

Raising an eyebrow, Winston held the door open as Skylar stepped through before closing it behind them. “Thanks, I’ll pass the compliment onto my parents,” they replied with a nervous chuckle, “got it … wine first.” They led them through to the large kitchen and nodded for them to take a seat at the round table at the center of the room. Opening the cupboard they pulled down to wine glasses before fishing a corkscrew out of the draw. They usually bought screw top wine but maybe Skylar actually had taste in wine and knew why corked wine was so much more expensive. “Honestly I don’t really drink wine or at all to be honest or maybe just not as much as some of my peers. But whatever you’re having I am happy to try.” They shrugged. “Got to be honest I couldn’t even tell you that Rose was a sort of wine.”

“Hm? Oh, I don’t think we need that for--” Skylar examined one of the wine bottles. Huh, look at that. A really cheap looking cork. Neat. “Well, we’ll need it for the red. But the rest of these are just capped.” She said, unscrewing the top of one of the white wines and pouring a generous portion for Winston and an equally large glass for herself. “That’s fair. I don’t usually drink much either but… Treat yourself? Well, treat yourself as much as you can. Which, in my case, is bottles of basically alcoholic juice.” She offered lamely. “I only know about it because of all the wine mom memes. It honestly just looks like someone mixed a red and a white together.” Picking up her glass, she offered it to Winston to clink. She wasn’t really sure what to toast, but it felt like the right thing to do. “Here’s to… making it through all of this weird stuff?” She asked. 

“Oh sure,” Winston, “either way it is there if we need it I guess.” Winston placed the corkscrew on the table and watched as Skylar served them. Scooping up their glass of wine they generously tapped it against Skylar’s glass. “I will definitely toast to weird stuff and I will also toast to treating yourself with a little bit of alcohol when you’ve had a really tough week … month but you know hopefully not a really tough year.” They shrugged gently at Skylar’s description of rose. “I’ve never got wine, it’s cool and it’s gets me super fucked up but I don’t get how people can you know pay thousands of dollars for a bottle of wine. Crazy stuff to me…” they were desperate for anything to talk about that wasn’t the weird stuff before Skylar was ready. This whole situation was so far out of their depth it was almost like they were discovering everything for the first time today. Even though it was basically a month now. “But this wine,” they said swallowing a mouthful of the acidic wine, “well who knows if it is good or not, certainly not me, but it tastes alcoholic which is great news.” 

Taking a long drink from her glass, Skylar ignored the less than pleasant taste of wine in favor of focusing on the fact that, the more she drank, the less she’d think about all of the stuff she’d been through. “Tough month sounds about right, mhm. I guess it hasn’t been super easy for you either, what with the… fire stuff and the name thing.” She winced, realizing that she’d been so focused on everything that was going on in her life, she hadn’t really paid much attention to what was going on in their life. “How is that going, by the way? You’re back to your normal self?” She asked. Shrugging at Winston’s opinion on wine, Skylar opened her mouth to mention something about her parents and their ridiculous wine collection, but the memory of her parents soured in her mind. Instead, she took a smaller sip from her glass. “Agreed. Alcohol… is good right about now.” 

Twisting their own glass under the light Winston peered through the pale liquid that sat within. “Yeah well I think anyone who has been since indoctrinated into the church of the supernatural is going to be struggling along like the rest of us, experiences might be different but the feeling of being out of your depth must be universal until you get more used to this.” Winston felt like they were way more then out of their depth, they were clinging to a piece of driftwood and praying that they didn’t drown. Noticing Skye’s wince they sighed and shrugged. “Now that the name is back and I can remember it being my name then it is fine, as for the magic I gotta be honest I haven’t done shit with it. I’ve done a tonne of reading and research and my theory is good but practically I have been way too scared to try it.” They shrugged and sighed. “It takes a lot and I’m kind of scared of doing too much and taking too much energy to do it…”

Winston’s way of putting it made Skylar laugh, just a little bit. It was one of the first genuine laughs she’d had since… everything went down. It felt good to laugh again. “I guess it is. But, I think we’ll get the hang of it soon. We’re in this together.” She said with a small smile. Then again… she’d thought she was in it together with Remmy. And look at how that had panned out. Finishing her glass of wine, Skylar poured herself another. It would take a lot more than one big glass of wine to push out these awful thoughts. “I’m glad that you’re back to being Winston. It was a little scary when you weren’t.” Tapping her fingers against the counter top, Skylar chewed the inside of her cheek. “Hm. How big is your backyard?” Skylar asked, tilting her head outside. “If you want to give magic a shot… I can be here as like, your second. Do you have oreos here too? I can stand on the side lines with wine and cookies.”

Skye was just as new to this as Winston was and that in itself made them feel better. Blanche, Nell, Ricky and the others that they’d met were nice, but they didn’t really get why this was so difficult for them to comprehend. Skylar was living this for the very first time and Winston felt like she really got what it was like. “Yeah,” they said with forceful agreement, “we are in this together and you know what one of us is useful and the other one of us might be able to do magic one day so I’m sure we’ve got this.” Her laugh causes a smile to dance across their face. As Skylar finished their glass of wine, Winston did their very best to follow suit but found that was easier said then done and eventually decided that they would just have to drink more regularly in an effort to keep up with her. As she refilled her glass, Winston continued to work through theirs. “Me too,” they agreed, “it was like the weirdest set of cognitive dissonance I could imagine because I knew that all the evidence pointed towards my name being Winston but that just didn’t feel right to me.” They shrugged. “I guess it’s fixed now and not something to worry about.” They just had to be more careful. Considering Skylar’s suggestion they paused before nodding. “Oreos I’ve got, my parents keep this place well stocked when I house sit for them which is always great, my back yard is big but I actually have a better place to do it… if you want to see?” They hadn’t shown many people the place they and their siblings used to play, but now seemed as good a time as any. “Even if I can’t get the magic going, it looks good at night?” 

“I don’t know if I’m useful, yet. You’re the magic fire person, after all.” Skylar joked, nudging them with her shoulder. She took another drink, before nodding. “But, we’ve got this, for sure.” Listening closely while Winston spoke, she mulled over their experiences. God, that sounded awful. As bad as she had been, Skylar had honestly been through worse. Which wasn’t something she was going to tell anyone. “For sure. And thanks for letting me know about Regan, I’ve been trying to be careful around her.” Watching as Winston attempted to drain their glass, Skylar’s eyebrow quirked-- did they know that it was a bad idea to try and go drink for drink with her? They were friends with Ricky after all-- Nope. No. “Sure! We can bring the wine and some snacks for you, just in case.” She said with a nod, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. There wasn’t anything weird happening, just two friends going out to try and do magic. Totally normal.

“You’re smart and funny and resourceful, definitely more useful then potentially being a time bomb that could go off at any moment…” Winston trailed off and frowned, “sorry I didn’t mean to be such a Debbie downer, you don’t need me killing the mood. We’ve definitely got this.” Pausing, Winston would realise later that they should’ve said less then they did. “Just don’t tell her that she can have your name and you’ll be fine, she asked me if she could have my name and so I told her my name and everything happened, but she gave it back to me and it’s all fine now.” They paused and swallowed for a moment, suddenly concerned that they might have jeopardised Regan’s safety. But then they remembered that they were sat with Skylar, someone who they doubted had any malicious intent in her body. “Uh, we can probably find you some snacks,” Winston ran to the fridge and pulled out a small tray of smoked salmon wrapped in celophane, their mother knew how much Ricky loved smoked salmon. “If you want it, it’s all yours, I won’t eat it and it’ll go off before my parents are back.” Downing the rest of their wine they led Skylar out of the back of the house. They had a big garden, with an old trampoline at the end of it that had definitely seen better days. Everything was well worn, but everything was also neat and in it’s place. Leading them through the darkness, they reached the hedge that marked the edge of their land and after flicking on their torch light they were able to squeeze through a hole in the hedge that they were sure used to be much larger. “You can grab my hoodie if you want,” they said as they stepped into the hedge, “it gets dark in here and it’s easy to trip if you’re not careful but we won’t be long.” They led their way through the hedge, maybe for five or ten meters before coming out on the other side and plucking a leaf from their hair. “It’s not too far from here,” they explained waiting for Skylar to emerge from the hedge.

Listening to Winston bash themself wasn’t super comfortable, but she could understand how they felt. Skylar honestly felt the same way about herself, only that she was a countdown clock, with limited time, and no real way to survive that didn’t involve-- Skylar finished her second glass before screwing the lid back on the half empty bottle. “It’s okay. I can understand being a Debbie Downer sometimes. And thanks for letting me know about her, I appreciate it a lot.” She said with a nod. Blinking when Winston offered her salmon, Skylar smiled. “Oh! Thanks. That’d be great.” Packing it up in her bag, she followed Winston out of the house and into the backyard. As they offered their hoodie for her, she shook her head. “It’s okay, I can actually see alright out here. It’s… um… a selkie thing.” She mumbled. “Sounds good!” She said with a thumbs up as she stepped out of the hedge.

Leading her a little further, Winston walked them through some trees and down to a stream where there sat an old pier that they had made when Winston was very young. It had been a really good day and Winston had some fond memories here. “If we’re going to try and do the fire thing, doing it near water is probably a good idea…” Winston paused for a moment before making their way out onto a very short pier, maybe ten feet in length at the most. They’d swiped a bottle of wine on their way out and screwing the top off of a very sweet bottle of rose. Sucking down a mouthful, they wiped a dribble of it from their mouth and handed the bottle over to Skylar. “So … how is the whole … uh…” they paused before continuing, “how are you doing with the selkie thing?” 

As Winston led the way to the small stream, Skylar’s fingers reached up to touch her hearing aids nervously. It was just a small little body of water, it wasn’t a big deal. It was okay. “Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. Don’t want to get Smokey the Bear riled up or anything.” She nodded, forcing herself to follow them out onto the pier. Taking the bottle from Winston, Skylar nervously stared at the water before taking a few long swallows. Her head felt just the slightest bit woozy, but given how much she’d drank, it would take a lot more for her to actually feel drunk. “It’s fine. I’m handling it.” She said dismissively before pulling out her own bottle of wine. Lifting it to her mouth, she realized how this probably looked, “Um. I have a lot of blood? I’m not an alcoholic, I’m really just not feeling anything yet.” She said with an apologetic shrug. “Don’t try to keep up with me, you might get really sick. Besides, fire magic and drunkenness probably won’t mix well?”

Honestly Winston was beginning to feel a little bit too drunk. The world was swaying a little bit and they had to steady themselves against the pier. Tenderly setting the bottle of wine down, they gazed out across the water and into the open night sky. “I wouldn’t be surprised to discover that there was some terrifying supernatural version of Smokey the Bear…” they laughed gently and smiled for a moment at that thought. Looking back at Skylar, they smiled gently and shook their head. “Don’t worry, I don’t think you’re an alcoholic, besides if anyone deserves a night where we get to drink without worrying about other stuff then it’s us.” They raised their bottle of wine in a toast to Skylar before swallowing a mouthful. “Don’t worry,” they said immediately setting the bottle back down and regretting the last mouthful, “I think I’m going to take a break…” they had almost forgotten about the fact that they came out here to do magic. “I guess I don’t really know how to start…?” they didn’t move. The problem was they couldn’t work out a way to trigger it. 

“You know,” Skylar laughed with a slight shake of her head, “That wouldn’t be the wildest thing I’ve heard either. Vampires, magical knives, selkies, zombies, ghosts... Angry demon Smokey Bear sounds about right.” She let out a sigh and took another long drink. “Agreed.” She said, shifting the bottle from hand to hand awkwardly as she looked at the nearly empty bottle of white. Her head was starting to feel fuzzy, but that was about it. God, this was why she never bothered drinking. It took too long to even feel anything. “Do you think it’s like a Spiderman thing? Like, if you go all,” She made the Spiderman gesture out at the stream, “It might do something? Or is it more of like… a firebender centering yourself thing?” All she had was pop culture references to go off, really.

Considering everything that they had experienced, Winston themself wasn’t sure if it would even come close to the strangest thing they’d already experienced. “It would definitely be weird and I don’t think my childhood could take it.” They paused for a moment longer and looked out into the water before forcing themselves to their feet and walking a little further away from the pier to make sure no one got hurt. “Maybe, a lot of what I’ve read says that magic requires some clarity of focus and I’ve been practicing breathing exercises at the recommendation of someone that …” they were going to mention Ricky but thought better of, “they’re a friend.” They took a moment and tried to steady themselves. Taking deep breaths and trying to focus their mind and get absolute clarity. They closed their eyes for a moment, though it kind of made their head swim and tried to focus on how they’d felt when it had happened. “I don’t know.” They said, stood silently. 

Shifting back to stand behind Winston, just in case they managed to conjure up another flame thrower, Skylar watched with her bottle in hand. “That makes sense, try that.” She said. But, as they began to try and do some deep breathing techniques, Skylar wondered if that was really the case. When they’d been attacked by the karkinoids, it had seemed like their magic had come out in the literal heat of the moment. It had been an instinct more than something willful. Which… gave her an idea. Finishing up the last of the wine, she set the bottle down and pulled her veneers from her mouth, tucking them into her pocket. “Give it another shot, you’ve got this.” She said encouragingly from behind them. Maybe if she gave them a good scare, it would trigger the magic.

The gurgling of the stream settled into background noise and Winston did everything in their power to appear relaxed. Maybe that wasn’t the point but they were trying to convince themselves that they had this in the bag. They opened an eye but couldn’t see Skye, this wasn’t weird after all as she was stood behind them. Pressing it tightly shut with renewed invigoration they took a deep breath once more and tried to reach into their well of power. This was how they’d always imagined it went. You said the magic words, you did the right moves and you reached into yourself and used your inherent magic power. “Fire!” they blurted in an attempt to startle themselves into magic, they were somewhat disappointed to find that there hadn’t even been a spark made, sighing they jammed their eyes closed and tried to ignore the gentle spinning of the world. 

Watching as they tried to conjure some kind of flame, Skylar nodded. Her idea seemed to be as good as any and she really only had one shot to try and make it work. Flexing her jaw experimentally, she let out a very quiet breath before running up to Winston and grabbing their shoulder with her left hand, pushing them forward just enough to make them jump. Bearing her sharp fangs so they flashed in the dim moonlight, she let out what she hoped was an intimidating growl. If seals even made that kind of noise. She honestly wasn’t sure what she sounded like other than a dim memory of “ork ork.”

They were pretty sure that they were in the zone. Winston wasn’t sure why but they could almost feel it coming. Taking a deep breath they played upon their feeling of power until suddenly they were shaken forward and a growl rent the night silence. Jerking away from both the sound and the motion, “Woah what the fuck,” they were shocked and surprised by the sound and the movement, as they recoiled away Winston felt something hot explode from their palm and watched as a jet of flame shot into the night. They felt that familiar feeling of energy been drawn through their body before it was expelled as fire. “Oh my god did you see that?” they asked slurring a little as they staggered back upright. A wave of exhaustion enveloped them but subsided much quicker then before, obviously they hadn’t cast a big spell, but it still tired them out. 

Ducking on instinct, even though the burst of flame came nowhere near her, Skylar hurried out of the way before popping back up. A grin spread across her face, which she quickly covered, remembering her teeth. Popping her veneers back in, she wiped her hands on her jeans before offering a high five to Winston. “Nice job! That was awesome!” She said, the alcohol beginning to hit her as a wave of pleasant warmth began to wash over her. Skylar reached out to steady Winston, she didn’t want them to walk off the pier or something. “Well done. Here, cookies.” She said, pulling out some of the snacks they’d brought and handed some to Winston. “How did that feel?” Skylar asked curiously before taking a long drink from one of the other bottles.

Standing up right with Skye’s help, Winston straightened up and looked at the darkness that had previously been shattered with some level of disbelief. “Oh my god I did it…” they had actually done magic and they had done it on purpose, they were clearly a long way off doing this stuff but that was a rush like no other. Their whole body tingled with satisfaction at what they had been able to achieve. Gratefully taking a hand full of cookies from Skylar they crammed an Oreo into their mouth before washing it down with a mouthful of wine. Two flavours that definitely shouldn’t go together was cheap Sauvignon Blanc and Oreos. But Winston didn’t have time to regret their decision. Grinning somewhat inanely, they considered Skylar’s question. “Honestly, everytime I use magic it might be a bigger rush then I’ve ever had before…” they laughed for a moment and sighed gently, “always leaves me feeling sleepy as all hell though.” 

“You did!” Skylar said, gleeful in Winston’s success. Even if she wasn’t quite at the stage they were, she was happy for them. “For sure, that makes a lot of sense.” She said with a slightly drunken grin, the alcohol beginning to kick in with vigor. “I’m glad that you feel that way. Um, like it’s a rush, not that you feel sleepy. That’s so cool, though. You’re like a real life mage!” She nodded. There was something so amazing about what Winston could do. They were doing something tangible, something real, something dangerous and cool. Whereas all she could do… was be something she wasn’t. With a sigh, she sat down on the edge of the pier, legs folded up criss-cross style, and patted the spot next to her. “Why don’t we sit down, hm? Let you rest a little.”

“Fuck I can actually use magic,” Winston had had this realisation several times before and each time it hit a little harder somehow, the world slowly spun and Winston wasn’t sure whether it was because they were turning or because the world was. Swallowing a few more mouthfuls, they slumped back down on the cool wood and ran a hand over their head. “I can’t believe that I can actually do this stuff…” they paused and looked at Skylar, “this is all really weird right? Like it isn’t just me. This is very surreal?” They laughed a second later, the absurdity of the situation getting to them in that moment. “Well, at least I know that if I need to perform magic all I need is for you to jump scare me …” they smiled gently and leaned back on their arms. “How are you …. Y’know doing after everything?” was this too soon to be asking. 

Skylar couldn’t help but grin at the way that Winston looked in awe of themselves. There was just something really… wholesome about them finding this new aspect of who they were and becoming more confident in themselves. “Oh, it’s totally weird. Like, you just created fire with your bare hands. That’s super weird. But in the best way.” She said with a drunken nod, her head bobbling a bit. The world was beginning to tilt at the edges, her vision shifting and spinning ever so slightly. “Hm? Oof.” She mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck before running her hands through her choppy hair. “Not great. Not super great..?” She said, though the words were more of a question than a statement. How was she doing? Taking another drink, she mulled over the words before continuing, “I feel… good. Better than good. I feel better than I ever have. An’ I mean ever. But… I don’t. I don’t want to feel better. Because better means…” Skylar’s voice trailed off as she looked out at the water. It meant that she was really a selkie.

“In the best way?” Winston asked with a raised eyebrow. Pausing for a moment Winston really thought about what they meant. “This whole month, the beginning of this year has really really changed the way that my life … that our life is going to be, which is crazy. To think that we met in a police station because you could sign,” they laughed at that and shrugged before knocking back another mouthful of wine. Pausing, Winston listened to what Skylar had to say. “Sometimes I feel the same, I want to get out of all this weirdness and go back to a mundane life, but I can’t. I’m stuck with something I didn’t ask for and I didn’t need and I didn’t want, but here I am either way. I cannot change what’s happened and I can only continue. Letting go of that resentment is tough so I can only imagine how this must be for you…” they swallowed, hoping Skylar would take it well. 

“Mhm. Like… it’s magic, Winston. That’s so cool.” Skylar said. Were her words not making sense? She definitely wasn’t completely out of it, but she was definitely not as focused as she normally was. She just hoped that her words sounded okay. “Right? It’s… a lot.” She mumbled. A month ago, less than that really, she thad thought she was… more or less normal. Normal with quirks. Still human, still definitely human, but with some oddities that her parents never really explained. And now, here she was, sitting next to her friend that could conjure up fireballs when they got freaked out, knowing that she wasn’t in any way human. “Resentment?” Skylar frowned, shaking her head doggedly, “I don’t resent anyone. I don’t. I just… I don’t want to be this way.” Her head was spinning more and more, but she continued to drink.

Nodding, Winston smiled somewhat idiotically. Being drunk wasn’t something they did a lot and they enjoyed Skylar’s company. She had similar interests and she was funny too. They were glad that they were actually getting to know her. “It really is a lot, these things can’t be expected to just pass quickly either. It’ll take a lot of getting used to.” They honestly weren’t sure about any of this new life that they found themselves living. Winston heard everything that Skylar said and sighed. “I know you don’t want to be this way, but I don’t think you can change it. Unless you know something I don’t?” They swallowed more of their wine, this was a conversation they were not sure they were equipped to handle.

Lips pressing together in a thin line, Skylar kept her eyes trained out in the darkness. Draining the bottle, Skylar stuck the empty wine bottle back in her backpack before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Ricky probably told you about how I’ll die if I don’t turn. But did he tell you specifically how it happens?” She asked, continuing without letting them respond, “First you just feel tired. Like, really tired. So you drink some coffee, you chug an energy drink, you push on. Then, you start to feel depressed. Like, really, really depressed. Like… why does it even matter? Why does anything you’ve ever done matter? And, once that happens, the fun part happens. Every time you move, it feels like your muscles are on fire but are also too tired to do anything. Your back, your joints, your head, it all hurts so bad, so freaking bad and you just want to give up.” Looking at Winston, Skylar nodded once. “I’ve lived like this my whole life. My parents took me to doctors, so many doctors, trying to figure out what was wrong,” Swallowing thickly, Skylar continued, “I thought my parents tried to help me. But, if everything could have just been solved by giving me back my skin… the skin they hid from me-- I--” Her voice cracked and she shook her head. She didn’t want to think about what that meant. She didn’t want to think about what accepting any of this meant.

Reaching out, Winston placed a set of slim fingers over the back of Skye’s hand. Wrapping the tips around the gap between her thumb and her index finger. “Ricky didn’t tell me it in that much detail, they explained what would happen if you decided not to change on your own more regularly…” they trailed off and sighed gently, unsure whether this was really a trauma that they were qualified to be assisting with. Swallowing, they adjusted their glasses nervously with their free hand before continuing. “Your parents, though they may have had the best intentions were obviously misinformed. It may have been this way your whole life, but you know better now, you understand more and you might not have had this same knowledge in the past but now you do.” They paused and swallowed. “Rather then looking at this as a whole thing of what could have been, look at it as if it is a brand new lease on your life.” It felt hypocritical to lecture Skylar when there was just so much about their own life that they were unsure about. “You’ve got the opportunity to use this new found knowledge to live a life that is free from the restrictions you previously faced, and sure, it isn’t exactly the life that you imagined yourself living. Sure it isn’t what you thought it was, but it is still a new take. It is a new opportunity. It could be really amazing. You can either keep going the way you were before, or you can push yourself out into this new comfort zone.”

Skylar let out a long sigh, running her hands through her hair as she tried to sort out the thoughts and feelings that raced through her mind. But, the world was spinning, Winston was talking, and it was all just too much. She didn’t want to deal with it, she couldn’t deal with it. “A new take… A take that means I’m not human. That I’ve never been human. That I’m some kind of monster.” Skylar mumbled, drawing her knees up into her chest and hugging them close to her. “I don’t want to be free, Winston. I just want to be me again.”

Winston sat in silence. Unsure what more they could really say to convince them. “If this has been what you always were, then you’ve always been Skylar. Skylar who is kind and intelligent and cares about the people in her life.” They sighed gently. “I don’t think you’re some kind of monster, and even if you aren’t human that doesn’t mean that I, or anyone else sees you any different. Which isn’t important, because what matters is how you see yourself.” They shut their mouth after that, figuring that they had said their piece. They weren’t going to be able to convince them of more then that if they hadn’t already convinced them.

As much as she wanted to just turn off her hearing aids, shut them off, shut out the world and the painful words, Skylar knew she couldn’t. Ricky, Remmy, Nadia, Winston, they all were saying the same thing. Not in so many words, but they were saying the same thing. That she just had to accept this, that she had to accept herself. But, she couldn’t. Because if she did, every part of her life before now would be a lie. And she couldn’t bare that. She couldn’t handle that fact. Clearing her throat, she nodded at Winston, “I guess. Thanks, though. For listening. And not just… doing what you think is best for me.” She said with a pained grimace. 

Looking sadly at Skylar, Winston took a deep breath. “Whatever you’re feeling now must seem so alien and it’s completely valid, I can’t imagine the struggle but if I can do anything to make this a bit easier on your then let me know and I will do everything in my power to support you, because you’re my friend.” Winston felt their stomach flip and looked earnestly at Skye. “I’m sorry we can’t just fix this problem…” they sighed and unscrewed the cap of their wine bottle, draining the last of the dregs they felt the acidic taste burn the back of their throat as they swallowed.

Skylar offered a smile at Winston, but she knew there was sadness still . But, just hearing that they were going to support her meant a lot. “It’s okay.” She said, reaching out to squeeze their hand with her own. “Everything’s going to be okay.” It has to be, she thought to herself. Looking out at the water, Skylar

[dear-dairy-i-feel-milky]

I Can’t Believe You’re In Love With Me

PLOT: Enzo had just surprised Bonnie in New Year’s Eve. The decorations, dinner, and little moments they had made Bonnie wonder ‘Was this a date?’ and she immediately calls Caroline for help and wisdom right after Enzo leaves the cabin.

Author’s Note: Hi! I hope you enjoy this fic. Honestly, I feel as though after that whole flirty new years debacle, Bonnie would definitely turn to Caroline for some advice, so here’s my take on what happened the moment Enzo left! Have fun!

“Happy New Year.” Enzo whispers close to her ear. Bonnie stands in her place, paralyzed as Enzo slowly headed for the door. A few moments of silence came upon them. Enzo looked back at her one last time then exited the cabin.

 “Happy New Year.” She quietly said, knowing he was already out. She waited a few minutes longer until she was sure he was already in his car. After what seemed like an ample amount of time, Bonnie quickly got her phone and made a call.

 “Hello?”

 “Caroline, something just happened and I can’t explain it.” Bonnie said with a hint of nervousness in her tone.

 “OH GOD. WHAT HAPPENED?! WHAT’S WRONG?! WAIT RIGHT THERE, I’LL COME GET YOU!” Caroline replied frantically.

 “No, Caroline! I’m not in danger! Nothing’s wrong!” Bonnie paused and contemplated for a few seconds before continuing.

 “… Everything actually seems right…”

 “What? I don’t understand.” Caroline said in confusion. Bonnie was debating in her head if it was a good idea to tell her or not. She was afraid of what Caroline’s reaction would be, but she also knew that she couldn’t just shrug off what had recently happened. Bonnie sighed. She had made a decision.

 “It’s about… Enzo.” She answered hesitantly. The line went silent. Bonnie nervously waited for Caroline’s response. It stayed that way for a few seconds before Caroline spoke up.

 “Did you sleep together?” She said in a serious tone.

 “What?! No! It’s nothing like that!” Bonnie defensively replied as Caroline laughed.

 “Then what is it then? Come on! I’m dying to know!” She asked curiously. Bonnie took a deep breath.

 “Well… I think we just went on a sort of date?” Bonnie stated in an unsure manner.

 “OH MY GOD WHAT?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU THINK?! BONNIE BENNETT, DETAILS. NOW!” Caroline demanded loudly. Bonnie shushed her. For all she knew, Enzo could still be out there and listening to their conversation.

 “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. Just please keep it down. He might still be outside.” Bonnie whispered.

 “Alright, fine. Now, spill.” Caroline said in a quieter tone.

 “Well, it’s New Year’s Eve and the night seemed the same as usual. I was reading a book and he he just came in the living room and told me to dress up. Being to bored and lazy to argue as to why he wanted me to, I just went with it and got dressed and when I got out, he had decorated the whole room in lights, set up the table neatly, and just stood there wearing a suit.” After Bonnie finished, a loud squeal came from the other line.

 “Caroline! Shush!”

 “I’m sorry! It’s just AGH! My best friend is in love!” She shouted and Bonnie felt so embarrassed.

 “Caroline, stop! I’m not in love!” Bonnie said. Caroline calmed herself down a bit and replied.

 “Alright, I’ll stop, but you can’t just end it there. What happened next?” She asked, eager to know more. Bonnie sighed before answering.

 “We started talking about some things, research, friends, and family. Then, he stood up and asked me to dance with him. The music in the background set the mood and the dance was slow and sweet. He and I just stared into each other’s eyes, talking, laughing, and it felt like I was seeing him for the first time. His lips were so close and moved even nearer and nearer then suddenly- ”

 “YOU KISSED!” Caroline interrupted once more. She started telling Bonnie how happy she was for her and how she was excited to go on double dates with her and Enzo once the armory thing had passed, but then the moment was quickly ruined when Bonnie corrected her.

 “No… We didn’t. He and I let go before anything happened” Bonnie said which stopped Caroline from speaking.

 “Wait… What?” She asked puzzled.

 “We didn’t kiss. He wished me a happy new year and left and that was that. So yeah, thinking about it. I’m sure now that it wasn’t a date. I mean it’s pretty crazy of me to think it was in the first place. Could you believe the possibility of it being Enzo and me? It’s probably never going to happe-”

 “Bonnie.” Caroline intervened.

 “Yeah?”

 “You two are officially THE WORST.” Caroline stated which made Bonnie confused.

 “What?”

 “Seriously?! You two are giving me more stress than Josie and Lizzie and trust me when I say those two are quite a handful!” Caroline replied.

 “What? How are we stressing you out? We aren’t even doing anything, Caroline.”

 “EXACTLY. You guys aren’t doing ANYTHING. Don’t think for a second I don’t notice how you’ve been talking so much about Enzo lately! I could practically hear you smiling through the phone as you tell me your little moments together.”

 “I DO NOT.” Bonnie argued.

 “Please, Bonnie. I’ve known you for years now. I think I could sense if my best friend was into someone. Plus, Enzo is in to you too. I can tell.”

 “Caroline, I’m not into him and neither is he into me!” Bonnie exclaimed. It was impossible. This was all just to solve the mystery behind the armory’s agenda. Sure, they’re closer now, but in the end, their main focus is to stop Alex and nothing else.

 “Bonnie, how could you say that? Don’t you notice it at all?” Caroline questioned genuinely.

 “Notice what?” Bonnie asked confused. Caroline paused and sighed.

 “Last week, you told me Enzo bought the whole season of F.R.I.E.N.D.S just because you mentioned once that it always made you laugh. The week before that, he bought the Twilight movies and might I add, WATCHED THE ENTIRE SAGA, because he thought it would make you happy too. Last month, Enzo only had a few hours of break from the armory before he had to do sketch deals from them. He could have chosen to rest anywhere else or feast on a bunch of dead bodies, but no. He went straight to the cabin, because why again?” Caroline asked.

 “Because he thought I needed company.” Bonnie answered.

 “BECAUSE HE THOUGHT YOU NEEDED COMPANY!” Caroline repeated.

 “That is not something that every guy does for a person, Bonnie!” Caroline explained.

 “I know, Caroline, but…” Bonnie paused. She wanted to believe Caroline’s theory. She really did, but she didn’t want to get her hopes up. It was scary to feel something this deep for somebody. She didn’t want to lose him and if keeping her emotions to herself was something that would keep him, then she would do just that. Caroline somewhat understood that. She calmed herself a bit and spoke her case.

 “Look, I get it, Bonnie. It’s hard. Trusting someone is terrifying and loving someone is even worse, but in the end, we can control who we fall for. You know that. You’ve been hurt and broken by others for so long. You deserve true happiness and unending care, Bonnie and I believe Enzo wants to provide you with that. He’s just looking for the right time. You both are.” Caroline said softly and Bonnie understood every word.

 “You don’t have to rush it now, but you also don’t have to be afraid. There are worse things to feel, and love should not be a part of it. You deserve to be loved, Bonnie Bennett.” Caroline stated, kindly. Bonnie smiled. She was right. Everything will come together eventually. There was no need to be in a hurry or to get distressed and maybe at least admitting she liked Enzo would take a bit of the burden off her shoulder… Only to herself for now though.

 “Thanks, Caroline.” Bonnie replied.

 “You’re welcome.” Caroline said in a polite tone.

 “Do you really think he feels the same?” Bonnie asked, genuinely.

 “Bonnie, I KNOW he feels the same.” Caroline emphasized.

 “Just give him so time. Everything will work out in the end.” Caroline assured which made Bonnie feel less worried.

 “Alright. I feel better now.” Bonnie replied more relaxed and at ease.

 “It’s good to hear that. Now, Bonnie, I have to go. I hear the girls still making a fuss upstairs. If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call.” Caroline instructed.

“Okay. Thanks again, Caroline and good luck.” Bonnie told her.

 “Sure thing!” Caroline said before hanging up.

             After the call, Bonnie went straight for the room. She changed back to her normal clothes and got ready to sleep. She laid down the comfortable mattress and stared straight at the ceiling while thinking deeply of him. If there was a chance, even if it was small, then she would already feel glad and serene. She doesn’t believe it, but she still wished it were true. Maybe Enzo St. John actually loved her too. She closed her eyes and went to sleep, thinking of him and hoping that one day her dreams would become a reality.

  Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! I’m pretty sure Caroline would be an avid Bonenzo shipper and could see both Bonnie and Enzo’s relationship developing even before the two love birds realized it themselves. And also, Enzo would definitely binge watch with Bonnie and he probably enjoyed every bit of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. With his sarcasm and banter, I could definitely see him resonate with Chandler XD. Maybe I’ll make a fic that explains Enzo’s POV after this as well, but for now, thanks again for reading and have a great day/night!

[lionokoye]

Vestige

Thread about Zaki meeting Marigold. It was the first time he had seen her after getting kicked out of his home about 4 years ago. Marigold was his, his baby mama, and his child’s next door neighbor while living in Vegas. Zaki meets with her as a new student and offers to protect her for the event that weekend.

@paintsplattered

The Dean of Students.  It felt so official and so formal, and to find such a thing here where she was suddenly a freaking slave of all things, it felt absurd.  Marigold clutched her files to her chest as the secretary ushered her into his office, stopping dead in her tracks as she realized she knew him, more than knew him.  Could remember the way his lips had felt one summer night a few years ago, could remember the beautiful eyes of his daughter as well as his girlfriend and partner, could remember the way that she ran as far away as possible and yet her influence had still ruined everything … “Zaki?” she asked quietly, muscles already threading as if prepared to run.

---

When Zaki saw the name on his agenda, his heart skipped a beat. It felt as though it was going to beat out of his chest as anxiety overtook him. He wanted to think it had to be a different Marigold Martin. Certainly not his old neighbor, the one his ex was certain he had to be fooling around with. The last thing the incubus wanted to do was to research the student to confirm if it was her. He tried to convince himself it had to be someone else. But as she entered his office, he stared in disbelief. Zaki was standing behind his desk and tried to give her a smile that didn't tip her off to the fact he was on the verge of a panic attack. “Ah, Mari-- Ms. Martin. It's good to see you again,” he told her.

---

While Marigold might not have been the brightest bulb in the box, she was at the very least adaptable.  Hearing Zaki call her “Ms. Martin” rather than what she expected felt like it was setting a tone, and certainly one she couldn’t blame him for.  And yet still it stung slightly, emotions apparent on her face even as she sat down across from him, paperwork still clutched to her chest.  “You too, Zaki.  I mean Mr. Okoye.”  How was this her life?  How was he here? Marigold swallowed against the collar that remained circled around her throat, theories running wild in her mind what his position might mean.  “They told me I needed to see you?”

---

Memories flooded Zaki’s mind. Yes, it caused him a great bit of anxiety, but it also made him feel as if he were back home, where he wished he was able to remain. “Please, you of all people should know to call me Zaki,” he instructed her. Any student that came into his office was allowed to go on a first name basis with him, in hopes it would help to relax them. “Yes, I meet with all new students here, especially if they have come into the semester late. May I see your paperwork?” he asked, his hand reached out. He felt as though he was doing a good job of containing his emotions. It was crazy to think the small, beautiful woman could instill so much worry in someone his size or age.

---

“Then please, don’t … call me Ms. Martin like we don’t know each other,” she replied quietly, arms extending to pass him her paperwork.  It felt so awkward, especially when she recalled the last time they’d seen each other, just how much she’d mucked everything up unintentionally.  Marigold hesitated for a moment before she continued, shifting slightly in her seat.  “How’s Athena?  Is she here with you?”  In truth, she missed the child.  Everything was always so much easier with children.

---

Zaki smiled, but this time it was different. He give one to simply fight a frown, but he felt genuinely comfortable around her, at least in that brief moment. “Yes, of course. You’re right,” he agreed, nodding to her. She passed over the paperwork to him and opened the folder up. As he was about to sit, she spoke of Athena which prompted him to pause his movement. He shook his head, peering down at his desk. “No, she’s with her mother,” he said softly, placing the folder down. Zaki could usually speak about her in a positive tone. But seeing as Marigold knew her personally, and most of the situation, his reaction was very different. “But thank you for asking. Hopefully I will be able to see her again soon,” he added as he finally took his seat.

---

Marigold nearly sighed in relief as he gave the concession, flashing him a small smile of her own in response.  While she may have been a tease, it was rare for her to have had her efforts turned down even despite his relationship status the last time they’d seen each other.  It made the situation somewhat uncomfortable enough but the presence of her collar and his having none gave a new tone to the meeting that she couldn’t have anticipated.  “I’m sorry,” she replied back genuinely, her tone soft.  From what she’d seen of him as a father, Mari knew it had to be difficult for him to be apart from her.

---

Zaki whipped his hand in the air. “No it’s fine,” he started, looking down at the various files she had brought in. She couldn’t know for sure what had happened, that a big part of why he was no longer welcome in that house was because of her. Zaki didn’t blame the woman for it. Not only did Eliza not even know the two shared a kiss, but it was his own fault that it even happened. “It’s nice to see a familiar face,” he said, bringing his eyes up from the documents to meet hers. Even though it had been about three years since he last saw her, her eyes were still incredibly endearing. “What have you been up to?” he asked her innocently.

---

Zaki may have assured her that it was fine, but still she wondered if it truly was.  Usually it was easy to take things at face value, to believe what she was told, but something in the pit of her stomach made her doubt just how honest the words were.  Not one to stir up trouble when it didn’t need to be, however, Marigold didn’t question him, the gaze of her blue eyes meeting the soft warmth of his own.  “Other than being tricked into slavery, you mean?”  The question came out harsher than she’d intended, a light pink flush coloring her cheeks as she wished that it could be taken back.

---

Zaki gave a small chuckle to her. There really wasn't anything funny about it, it was more of an uncomfortable laugh. His eyes shifted back to meet hers. “Yes, I don't agree with it. I hate the whole idea of owning another person,” he started. Zaki has only claimed one slave, and that was incredibly short lived. Since, he'd never even entertained the idea.The incubus wished he could have warned her. He was certain there had to be a good reason for Mari to get here. “So, you are looking into painting for your major? I’m glad you are continuing with that. You have real talent. Not that I know much about art,” he added.

---

“But you’re still here.”  It slipped out without any real thought, Marigold taking a deep breath to try to calm herself at least somewhat.  Though she couldn’t help but wonder how he’d gotten such a position if he didn’t agree with the things the Institute upheld, with how they ran the school in the first place.  She nodded at his question and she couldn’t stop the small smile that blossomed at his compliments.  “Yes, Si- … Mr. O … Zaki.”  Each title was halted before she could finished the word, the young girl still somewhat uncertain about just where she stood with him.  The last they’d seen of each other, she’d kissed him, or tried to at least.  To be faced with it here … Mari shook her head slightly, as if to clear it, sitting up a little straighter.  “Thank you,” she eventually settled on.

---

Zaki nodded at her. She had no idea he was forced to work and live so far away, it wasn't by choice. There was no good way to explain it, so he'd try to dance around it. “Yes, that's true. It was the only job I was offered,” he told her. That was true,  but he hadn't looked or applied anywhere else. “My office, my home here, it is a safe haven for slaves. Always open to you, Mari,” he offered. He nodded as she accepted his compliment. “Of course. You will fit in well here. What have you been up to? Have you been working in that field since I last saw you?” He asked her.

---

It was so unlike her to feel uncomfortable in most situations.  Usually even when things were awkward, it was easy to glance over the underlying issues and subtle nuances and take things at face value.  But with Zaki, somehow, it was difficult for her to feel at ease.  Marigold took a few moments of silence (likely noticed) to try to gather herself, a couple of deep breaths and she was plastering her typically charming smile on her face.  “Then it was other places’ loss.  But I wouldn’t want to take advantage.”  For most people, it would have been simply lip service, a token protest before taking them up on the offer.  But for Zaki, who she genuinely liked despite his position, she meant it.  Her shoulders rose and fell as she crossed her legs, finally starting to find her confidence despite the situation.  “I’ve been working at the non-profit.”  She supposed it went without saying that Eliza no longer sought out her company, also keeping her second job mum, not wanting Zaki’s judgment.  It was usually there when people found out, and she didn’t know if she could take the look on his face if he held it.  “As for my art … showing in galleries sometimes, though not many people bought any.  Not enough to do it all the time.  That’s how they found me.”

---

Zaki’s mouth was still completely dry. His hands a little shaky from the shock that Mari was here, in front of her. He peered through her document some more, but most of the information listed, he already knew. “That's good. You had a knack for that job, really. But this place is an opportunity for bigger and better things,” he encouraged with a smile. Zaki wondered if she was the reason Athena enjoyed painting so much. It wasn't because of Eliza, and it certainly wasn't because of him. Zaki wished he could have warned Mari. Not because he didn't want to see her because of the terrible memories she brought up, which was true, but because she didn't deserve to be here. “I’m sorry. Someone really tricked you. I will do all that I can to make sure that you are comfortable here though,” he promised. It wasn't unusual, it was something he told all the new students.

---

“Is it?” she queried before she could stop the question from leaving parted lips, her fingers combing through her hair to tuck it back behind her ear.  Yes, the Institute was an opportunity to enhance her painting, perhaps find a job that called to that part of her with a degree under her belt.  But in the moment, it was difficult to see the potential benefits when she was destined to be used whether she liked it or not.  Anger was not an emotion Marigold felt easily, but at the mention of someone tricking her, she felt a lick of it flame in her stomach.  “Somebody did.”  Without realizing it, her finger slid to tug gently on the collar she was still growing accustomed to, head tilting as she surveyed him.  She knew Zaki to be genuine and so she didn’t doubt the offer, she just truly couldn’t see how he could make her comfortable.  “Like what?” Mari asked curiously.

---

Zaki was nervous to ask more questions as to how she was tricked here. He would just grow more upset at the situation. Those emotions should have been directed ed at Marigold, however. Most people would have considering she unknowingly costed Zaki his relationship with his daughter, and her mother. “That's a good question,” Zaki replied, a bit shocked she would ask that. He was hoping she wouldn't. The island had done a good job of minimizing the benefits of a protection claim. Not that Zaki would claim her. He had done that once before and it ended poorly. Not to mention she would rather find someone who she has romantic, or even friendly feelings for. “Well, my home is open to you whenever you'd like. Safer than being in your cell, or out and about. You're sure to be taken by a master,” he warned. A cute, young woman like herself with a collar was sure to be noticed and sought after. “It's not much, but it's something. I'm usually not even there, so you wouldn't have to worry about me looking for your company,” he added.

---

Anyone else and she would have quipped back that he was a Master, he could surely take her up if he was that concerned with her safety.  But on some basic level, Marigold understood that the male was keeping his distance for a reason.  Maybe he did blame her for his separation from Eliza and Athena, and he would be right to.  She’d kissed him knowing that he was attached, even if she still had no idea why she had lost all sense of inhibition and done it.  Her head tilted slightly at the offer of his home, brows furrowing slightly in confusion.  “I thought the rules said you have to be there too or they’ll come looking for me.”

---

Zaki shrugged. He wasn’t entirely sure why someone would be out to prove that he was hiding Marigold. Not that she wasn’t popular, but Zaki was a trustworthy guy, no one would think he was lying about it. “That is true. Just make sure you’re very quiet,” Zaki said, offering a smile. He’d take the blame for it if something were to happen anyway. “I’m just trying to help. I know, it seems hypocritical, but the last thing I want is for any student to get hurt. If that means skirting the rules, so be it,” he added as he placed the folder down. He still felt anxious, seeing her here, in this room, but there was a small bit of relief, compared to when she first walked in. As much as he didn’t want to, he felt especially responsible for looking after her here.

---

Before she could realize it enough to stop it, a small laugh bubbled out at his response that she should simply make sure she stayed quiet if she were to take him up on his offer.  Why it was funny, Marigold wasn’t quite sure, but the humor came all the same.  But it helped ease some of her tension with Zaki, somehow, and start to trust the words that were coming out of him despite his position.  She gave him a warmer smile, likely the most genuine yet, the edges of it as close to bashful as Mari got.  “I … might have to take you up on that sometime, Zaki.  Only if you’re sure.”

---

Zaki shrugged, his face growing warm as she accepted his offer. He never expected anyone to take him up on that offer, which he gives just about anyone, for any reason besides looking for safe haven. But maybe the fact he knew Mari and her personality, and the way she responded, his imagination ran a little wild before he came back to earth. Okay, she definitely didn't mean that for any reason other than avoiding abusive masters he thought to himself. “I am sure, of course. I offer it to anyone here who needs some place safe to go. At least until you find a master or mistress you would rather hide out with. I can be a placeholder of sorts until then,” he told her.

---

Marigold bit her lip, her turn to read too much into what the other was saying.  He offered it to all the slaves.  Them knowing each other previously meant little to nothing, maybe even less considering she’d once come onto him in a very unacceptable way.  It made her more hesitant to move forward with the acceptance, but after the previous night’s activities and the rumor of something big happening this weekend, she wouldn’t yet push it aside.  She forced another smile towards him as she nodded.  “It means a lot, thank you.”  Pausing, Mari debated asking the next question.  But if anyone here yet understood how her mind worked, it was him.  “Zaki, I heard … some of the other slaves.  What’s supposed to be happening this weekend?”

---

Zaki nodded to her, “of course, anything I can do to help to make you more comfortable here i’d do,” he offered. He didn't explicitly say that to every slave he met, but he felt that way. Saying it to Mari was again just more evidence he felt more of a responsibility to protect her, an artifact from his previous life before coming here. “Yeah, I heard about it too,” he said before he looked away from her. “I'm not really sure. Nothing good, I do know that,” he started before he shifted his vision back to her. “Just from my experience with the events they shold here. I hear there is a way to protect slaves though. If they find a master or mistress that would be interested in protecting them,” he said, sharing the facts of it that he knew.

---

Even with the offer, Marigold made a personal resolution not to ask Zaki for more than the safe haven he’d extended.  He was the last person she wanted to take advantage of here, especially when she knew him to be kind.  Lifting her gaze back to his as he started to speak, a shiver traveled down her spine at the ominous tone more than his words.  It sounded like whatever plans were being made for the weekend, it wouldn’t end well for her.  Mari’s heart skipped a beat as he spoke of protection, tongue darting out to wet her lips as her resolve was immediately tested.  Fear that she hadn’t quite felt yet settled on her lithe frame, trying to still the tremble that wanted to take up residence in her hands.  Surely he had someone he already wanted to protect, the slave nodding her understanding.  “I … I see.”  She paused, glancing up at him once more.  “Is there anyone you might know?  I met some Masters last night but … I’m not sure if they would protect me or not.”

---

Zaki didn't mean to scare the poor, new girl. He was desensitized a bit, after being her for for a year and a half. The expression on her face, it was the look of a. Recover as they discovered how horrifying this place was. And she hadn't even truly experienced it yet. Zaki didn't know many master or mistresses here, honestly. And the ones he knew had someone to protect, everyone. It seemed to have someone special to them here, aside from himself. “I don't. Sorry,” he said. He didn't mean for it to sound so cold. “I don't get out much. It's really, sad now that I say it out loud. I can keep an eye out though. Is there something you would like in a master? Or even a mistress if that is something you like too,” he said. He didn't mean to assume she was only interested in men. That was an unfair assumption, especially here.

---

In truth, it was probably better to hear it from Zaki’s mouth than anyone else’s.  At the very least, he understood her to an extent, probably already knew that she wasn’t precisely the brightest bulb in the box.  Marigold swallowed hard as he admitted he didn’t know of anyone that could protect her for the weekend, fingers shaking slightly as she moved to push a curtain of her hair behind her ear.  “For this?  I … anyone, Zaki.”  Once again her resolve was tested not to just simply ask him flat out - anyone else, anyone but him and she would if she could only be certain that they’d protect her and not simply stand aside for whatever the weekend would hold.  “Master, Mistress, dog or cat, if they can help.”  Her eyes were pleading as they met his, trying to hide the fear behind them.  It was as if until now, despite the prior night’s events, she hadn’t realized just what a position she had been tricked into.

---

Zaki could see a rush of anxiety course through Mari as she struggled to think of anyone to protect her. She was brand new, chances were, any experiences she might have had already were terrifying. “I see,” he started, taking a long moment, trying to offer a few names. Abbi would probably be protecting her new claim. Qhuinn most likely was protecting an employee of hers. His job required him to be in contact with more slaves, than masters or mistresses. “I mean… I don’t have anyone to protect,” he said as he lifted his eyes up. He didn’t want it to be forward, chances were she wouldn’t want him to protect her. But he felt compelled to offer. “I could, I mean, if you wanted, try and protect you for it?” he asked her.

---

Marigold’s head popped up at the casual statement that he did not, in fact, have someone to protect.  Even if she had been warring with herself about asking in the first place, there had still been the certainty that even if she did, Zaki already had someone he would keep safe.  How could he not?  He was handsome and kind, and his title meant he met with a lot of students, didn’t it?  Hope, shining and buoyant, bubbled in her chest at his question.  Anyone else would be met with a token, flirty ‘oh you don’t have to do that’ before she accepted it.  But Zaki knew her and she had no urge to pretend, especially with the fear that was still zinging up her spine.  “Please,” she whispered softly, eyes dropping down to the hands in her lap for a moment before lifting to meet his gaze again.  “Yes, please, Zaki.”

---

Zaki was a little shocked to hear her agree to it. And she didn’t sound remorseful or hesitant about either, maybe that was the most shocking aspect of it. “You’re… sure?” he asked, double checking to make sure she wasn’t saying it to be polite. “I mean, it’s just for this event. There’s no string attached or anything,” he said, wanting to make sure he put that out there. The last thing he wanted was to make her think she owed him something for it. Whatever was asked of him for the event, he’d be fine with. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. I’m sure it’s going to be fine,” he said as he tried to comfort her.

---

Marigold nodded at his question, more than certain.  “I’m sure.”  In truth, she would have jumped for the opportunity with anyone, but the fact that it was Zaki helped to settle and calm her somewhat.  She’d seen him be a rock for Athena, knew the sort of care and love he was capable of with Eliza.  If there was anyone she’d met or knew so far that she would trust to protect her for whatever this weekend held, it was him - even if he did expect some sort of recompense in return.  “No, I know that.”  Far too well.  He didn’t want her like that, that much had been made clear all those years ago on a crisp summer evening.  “Thank you, Zaki,” she finally said, a bit louder than before, hoping that his reassurances would be right.  “You don’t have to do this, but it means a lot.  Thank you.”

---

Zaki could hear his internal Eliza, scolding him. Her glare was burned into his mind’s eye as she found out that she was doing something like this for their former neighbor. It couldn't help but to make Zaki’s mouth run even drier, thinking Eliza would catch wind of this, no matter how ridiculous than sounded. “Really, It’s nothing,” he said as he raised his hand up. He wanted to downplay it as much as he could, just so she knew he wasn’t seeing it as anything more than a friendly gesture. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up. I don’t think it means your first weekend here is going to be perfect by any means. But I think it will make it a bit better at least. At least, until you’re claimed. Then I would say you’d notice more of a difference in terms of your safety and protection,” he told her.

---

The only hope that she currently had burgeoning in her chest was that Zaki might be able to protect her this weekend.  Other than that, she’d found her hopes for this place dashed fairly quickly.  Not even twenty-four hours and Marigold could already feel some of the changes taking place.  It may have been nothing to Zaki but to her it was at least something to hold onto, even if it was just for a few days.  “I guess I’ll have to find a claim fast.  If last night and this weekend is anything to go by, that would be the smart thing.”  Even she had to snort at the word ‘smart’ coming from her mouth, knowing she was anything but.  Not that she thought there was any hope of that with the man seated across from her.  “Still, thank you.  It’ll help the wait, at least.”

---

Zaki was sure it wouldn’t take long for Mari to find a master or mistress. Sure he said that about most slaves he met with, but he genuinely meant it with her. She was sweet, and beautiful. He was confident she was capable of landing any partner she desired. He almost suggested she wear a coat around, so she wasn’t such a target of the masters here if it wasn’t so hot all the time. Even then, her face would still be more than enough to attract someone. “You’re very welcome. I mean it when I say I’m here to help you,” he told her. It hurt to say, knowing just how it would have been perceived back home if they had heard him make that offer. “I will put that in for you. I don’t want you to worry about it. Can I do anything else for you to try and make your stay here more comfortable?” he asked her.

---

“I know.”  It slipped out without her permission, eyes darting forward before dropping back down.  Marigold could have easily judged him for his position, but she wasn’t one to judge most - and especially not Zaki, not after the initial shock of seeing him again had worn off.  Deciding that she’d all but had enough, she stood, though she didn’t reach for her files back from him quite yet.  A snort threatened to make its way out, Marigold reminded of a concierge at a fancy hotel as he asked if there was anything else he could do to make her stay more comfortable.  “You’ve done plenty, Zaki.  Just trying to protect me from this … it’s plenty.”  Her gaze once again met his even as she shifted on her feet.  It shouldn’t have mattered that she knew he didn’t want her, but she couldn’t help it - he’d been one of few that she’d ever come across to feel like that.  “Thank you,” she said again, at a loss for anything else to say.

---

She might have said it, but he didn’t feel as though he had done anything to help her. Her assurance did little to put his mind at ease about her, or any of the other slaves whom he could only assist so much. Zaki nodded back at her. “I want you to meet with me in a week, tell me how things have been going, your concerns, I can see what I can do about them. Maybe help you get a job too. Having your own source of income will give you some level of independence,” he said, offering her a trying smile. “I don’t have anything else for you right now. Just, head to your cell. Wear lots of clothing that covers you well. That’s my advice,” he added.

---

Marigold nodded at the request to meet with him again in a week, though how much he could do about any concerns she might have at the time felt negligible.  Her brows raised at the mention of a job, the slave not having realized the possibility was open to her.  A temptation to ask if there was a strip club on the island bubbled up, though she immediately tamped it down.  Zaki was the last person she wanted to ask, wanting to avoid any potential judgment once again.  In truth, she should have had more money than she did, but she’d gone on a shopping spree before leaving Vegas.  One hand clapped over her mouth as a giggle threatened to slip out at his advice and it was all the slave could do to nod and escort herself out of his office.  With whatever came this weekend, at least she was able to leave Zaki’s office with a smile on her face.

END

[listiqueblog]

How One Pillow Manufacturer Is Putting Amazon Fraudsters to Bed, One Scammer at a Time

In 1990, my dad set up shop with my mom, selling this pillow with a hole in the middle.

He’s a dermatologist, and made the pillow to provide relief to patients of his suffering from tender ears caused by a condition called Chondrodermatitis Nodularis Helicis (CNH for short).

They’ve been in business ever since then, and up until this year when my husband and I bought the business from them, they did everything exactly the same as they did back in 1990.

That means no advertising, marketing or sales channel changes in almost 30 years.

So, my husband I took over in January and have since changed everything (it is 2017, after all!)

We updated our website and joined BigCommerce in January of 2017.

From there, we put ads on Google.

Then, a few months ago, we started selling on Amazon.

That’s when our sales doubled!

My parents were shocked. “That’s the power of Amazon!” I told them.

We were going to be the next big Amazon success story –– I just knew it. And then, our listing was deactivated.

Someone else had the lowest price.

“OK,’ I said to my husband, “that’s impossible. Nobody else can have the lowest price for this pillow, because nobody else has this pillow. My dad invented it. We have the lowest price, because we have the only price.”

I was freaking out.

It was the first time either of us had ever experienced fraud — and I had no idea what was going on.  

But that was then.

I’ve since learned that the kind of fraud we were subject to is a huge problem on Amazon.

I’ve also gone through all the necessary steps each and every time to make it stop. And for my business, I have it down to a science.

Let’s start with what not to do.

Take This Book With You

This full guide (all +17 chapters and +50 experts and their insights) is more than 35,000 words. That’s a lot to read on a screen.

So don’t! Download the guide below to print it out, take it with you, and start selling more on Amazon.

Download Now

What Happens When You Call Amazon About a Fraudulent Seller?

After that first incident, in my panic mode, I called Amazon customer service.

At that point, I had tried to do everything I could within seller central.

Nothing was working. So, I picked up the phone.

They wouldn’t tell me anything about the other seller.

I supposed that it made sense, after all, it’s private and it could be “somebody else’s business,” in theory.

But we’re the only ones who make this pillow, remember?

So I told Amazon:

“This person says they’re selling my product and they can’t be! Nobody else has my product. It’s my own product. Nobody has it.”

To be fair, they were very calm about the whole thing and let me freak out over the phone. They asked me to explain the issue entirely –– and that they’d look into it. So, I did.

Here’s what I told them:

Another seller listed my item

They used my picture with my hand on the pillow

They used the description that I wrote myself

They had *our* customer service number on there

And worst of all, they lowered the price to $5.47 –– when the cost is $59.95.

Let’s get transparent on the pricing part.

Our pillow costs us $20-something to make it. There’s no way somebody could have made a similar or knockoff product for even close to $5.

Of course, they weren’t saying it was a knockoff.

They were saying it was the real deal.

Our product.

Our custom-made, copyrighted product.

It was frightening, but Amazon was able to take that seller down decently quickly.

Problem solved, right?

Wrong.

As soon as that seller was taken down, a few hours later another one popped right up again. It’s part of the scam.

Beware the Amazon Seller Scam

Several years ago, Amazon had a big push to become a global marketplace, and so they opened themselves up and made it super easy for international groups or people to sell and open up a store on the platform.

Essentially, almost anybody, almost anywhere, can sell on Amazon within minutes.

It goes like this…  

One scammer somewhere in the world says to a want-to-be Amazon merchant:

“Pay us a certain amount of money, and we’ll set you up with a store on Amazon. You pay us and we’ll set you up with a store with 20,000 items for sale. People buy the items from you, and all you have to do is drop ship. You never actually hold any items in stock at all.”

Now, I can only assume that somebody has a program which allows a “seller” to select many items at once and set a price that’s some very low percentage of the price that is originally on there.

It’s why our $59.95 pillow was listed at a little over $5.

I say that this is the case because when you go to the storefronts of these fraudulent sellers, they have hundreds, if not thousands of products listed, all at insanely low prices.

I’m at the storefront for HairWOW. You can see at the top left this newly launched store has 114,976 products! Including mine. Hopefully lots of other vigilant sellers are also reporting them. You’ll need the link to this storefront page to put in the email you send to Amazon.

The products they list alongside might be related, or not.

In our case, there was the CNH pillow, plus a lot of other bedding, and then a lot random stuff.

It’s almost always the case, however, that the scammers will target ‘Just Launched’ items, from genuine sellers with few or no ratings.

Yep, there’s my product, being “sold” by another seller and me. HairWOW is on top because of their lower price, and I’m second. If there was another lower price before mine, I would be bumped completely off the page. If that happens, just repeat all the steps in this article with each fraudulent seller. Usually the seller will be Just Launched, as in this case, and offer free shipping.

This has something to do with the way Amazon lists products.

If I’m a new seller (a genuine one) with no reviews, and I’m ‘competing’ as it were with two scammers, listing my product for a fraction of the price, then even though none of us has any reviews, the scammers will appear above me because their offering is less expensive.

Why Does the Scam Work In the First Place?

The scam works in part purely because of the sheer size of the Amazon marketplace.

Even if Amazon had a team dedicated to tracking down the scammers, it would be incredibly difficult to catch them all at launch.

In practice, the scam works because:

Before shoppers buy one of these fake items, they’re told it will ship from inside the U.S.

Then, as soon as they place the order, the fake seller changes the shipping information from U.S. Post, to China Post, and attaches a tracking number.

How do they attach a tracking number when there’s no product to send?

Yep, it’s fake, too.

Why put a tracking number in the first place?

Amazon pays sellers every two weeks. Items posted from China take between three and four weeks to arrive.

The plan is that they’ll get paid in two weeks, then, when in four weeks time the customer hasn’t received their item, that customer will complain to Amazon.

The customer will be refunded by Amazon, but by then, the fake seller has already been removed, and set up shop as somebody completely different.

Even if they succeed in getting a small fraction of those sales to work, the scammers are making money. The customer wastes time, but they eventually get their money back.

In the end, it’s the seller who’s losing out, because:

The customers are angry

Trust is broken

They might never want to buy from you again.

This has been the case with us a few times, and when I speak to customers who have been scammed, the conversation goes something like this:

“Hey, I haven’t received my order.”

“I’m sorry. I have no record of you buying from us.”

“I only paid $7.00”

And so I explain what’s happened, and usually they say, “Well, that sucks. Can I order now?”

But it’s a waste of everyone’s time.

Is There Anything Amazon Can Do to Fix This?

Probably.

Making sellers jump through a few more hoops before being able to list items would be a start.

Placing some restrictions on new sellers would help to curb the scammers, or at least slow them down.

But honestly, the way we’ve dealt with things on our own has been really effective, and if it can save you the hassle of going through what we went through, then I would be all too happy to share.

How to Stop the Amazon Scammers

There’s a bit of policing you’ll need to do yourself when it comes to taking down the scammers, but it’s totally worth it.

1. Keep checking your inventory.

If you have just a few items for sale on Amazon, then the first thing you ought to do is go to your inventory page on a daily basis — I do this multiple times a day — to make sure you’ve got the lowest price.

I’ve got my pillow, and I’ve got my extra pillow cover.

Those are my only two items. So I know that I should have the only price on Amazon.

There’s a little green check mark by each item saying, “Yes, you’ve got the lowest price.” I know if that’s the case, I’m fine.

This screenshot is of my inventory page. I checked it this morning and put a red box around the area I was looking at. I wanted to see check marks by both products showing I had the lowest price because I should have the only price, since no one else has my exact product. My extra pillow cover showed I did not have the lowest price, and instead showed someone else had it listed for less. Amazon puts a link there for me to click if I wanted to match their price – which tells me there’s a fraudulent seller out there (or maybe more than one) listing my item.

If you no longer have the lowest price, and you’re the only one selling that item, there could be problem.

If somebody has significantly undercut you on a similar item, do some research before going in guns blazing.

2. Get as many reviews as possible.

If your product has lots of positive reviews, it will help to keep you up high in the listings.

It’s also more work for scammers to fake reviews right after launch.

3. Be open and honest in your product description.

The other thing I do — since it’s my product that I own and manufacture — is to address scamming right there in the product description.

Here’s what I say…

“Beware fraudulent sellers! They don’t have a cheap knockoff version, they do not have a version at all. There is not an item, this is a scam.”

Explaining to people what’s going on –– that if they see something that seems too good to be true –– that it probably is, that helps a lot.

4. Send an email to Amazon.

The third thing –– the most important thing –– to do is to send an email to Amazon.

You don’t want to flood them with emails, or you don’t pester them with phone calls (it doesn’t work) but you do need to reach out.

The email is seller-performance@amazon.com — just send them one email per day.

If you’ve got a lot of fraudulent sellers on your account every day, just pick a time of day and then send them an email.

Here’s the format and process that I use.

Compose an email to seller-performance@amazon.com

Subject line: Possible Fraudulent Sellers

In the email body, put the name of fraudulent seller’s store, with a link to their storefront

Do this for however many fraudulent sellers there are

Underneath, say, “We believe the above sellers are engaging in fraudulent selling activity. Please investigate.”

Presto. They will sort it.

This is what it looks like:

To: seller-performance@amazon.com

Subject: Possible Fraudulent Seller

Body:

Seller Name: HairWOW (or whoever it is)

Link to their storefront: (paste here)

We believe the above seller is engaging in fraudulent selling activity. Please investigate. Thanks!

And then you wait. That’s all. If there are multiple fraudulent sellers, you can just list them all in one email.

Bonus tip: Lay the smack down!

Because I believe that everyone should be held accountable for their actions, I also go to that fraudulent seller’s store and click on the button that says, ‘Ask Seller a Question’, and I hit them with my standard shaming paragraph:

“Didn’t your mother teach you not to cheat people out of their money? Don’t you know you’re hurting people’s businesses? This is not a victimless crime. Shame on you.”

I have no idea how many times that’s worked, but it makes me feel much better.

I hope that helps you to navigate this more seedy section of Amazon, and that you won’t get discouraged from selling on what has to be one of the best platforms we’ve ever used — after BigCommerce, of course!

Want more insights like this?

We’re on a mission to provide businesses like yours marketing and sales tips, tricks and industry leading knowledge to build the next house-hold name brand. Don’t miss a post. Sign up for our weekly newsletter.

MktoForms2.loadForm("//app-ab15.marketo.com", "695-JJT-333", 2142, function(form){form.onSuccess(function(values, followUpUrl){dataLayer.push({event: "mktoLead", mktoFormId: form.getId()});try {gaMultiSend("event", "blog", "subscription", "blog subscription");hj("vpv", "/blog/subscribe");} catch(e) {success = false;console.log("analytics data was not sent " + e);}return true;});});

How One Pillow Manufacturer Is Putting Amazon Fraudsters to Bed, One Scammer at a Time published first on http://ift.tt/2wGG0YJ

[nofomoartworld]

Hyperallergic: In Venice, With That Sinking Feeling

Migropolis: Venice, Atlas of a Global Situation, a book in two volumes (photo courtesy of Hatje Cantz)

Venice is sinking.

For decades, even before reports of global climate change brought attention to the hazards of rising seas, the elegant “water city,” as Hermann Hesse dubbed it in his travel journals, had wrestled with acqua alta routinely flooding canalside walkways and popular sites like the Piazza San Marco, that grand, majestic urban space Napoleon reportedly called “the drawing room of Europe.”

While the French emperor’s quip is the stuff of legend, today a feeling of despair has come to overwhelm many Venetians and sensitive observers who admire their unique floating world; their fear for its survival is something very alarming, painful — and real.

For many years, Venice has struggled with environmental pollution from industrial plants on the nearby mainland; a declining population; episodes of political-governmental corruption; assorted harmful effects of gigantic cruise ships plying its lagoon; the rising cost of living for locals; and unstoppable invasions of destructive hordes of tourists from all over the world, many of whom breeze through its fragile, architecturally distinctive islands for only a day or two before stampeding off to other famous — and vulnerable — locations in search of the same fast food and luxury-brand goods they could easily find back home, all the while snapping those must-have trophies of 21st-century consumers in motion — ego-boosting, I-was-there selfies — as they go.

Only last week, The New York Times signaled just how dire Venice’s current crisis has become, but its news report came late to the alarm-sounding party. In fact, such superficial offerings as the paper’s regular “36 Hours In _____” articles, which guide “travelers” on pass-through junkets through various target cities, help encourage the kind of consumerism-focused incursions that are killing places like Venice.

A typical view along the real Venice’s Grand Canal, December 2015 (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

Perhaps unwittingly, but no less impressively, in response to such news items, along comes Migropolis: Venice, Atlas of a Global Situation (Hatje Cantz), an in-depth examination of what makes Venice tick today, providing a data-filled, revealing analysis of this fabled and alluring place’s complex, interwoven pageant of attractions, challenges, peculiarities, and woes. First published in 2009 in conjunction with an exhibition of the same title that was presented in Venice at the Fondazione Bevilacqua La Masa, this is the book’s second edition, in two volumes.

Like the original exhibition, it showcases research findings about the city that were gathered and analyzed by a team headed by Wolfgang Scheppe, a German-born professor of the politics of representation and image theory at the Università IUVA di Venezia, Venice’s well-known school of architecture, art, and design. Migropolis provides a substantive model for how urban studies at their most penetrating may be pursued today, with implications for law- and public-policy-making to be gleaned from the wealth of data it exposes and examines.

Migropolis looks at the causes and effects of many of the crisis issues cited above, but its real focus is Venice’s ongoing role as both a desired destination and transit point for some of the steadiest, and seemingly most ceaseless, flows of migrants to be found anywhere in the world today. With regularity, they pour into Venice from such places as Bangladesh, Moldova, Romania, Ukraine, China, and Senegal. With or without legal-residency or work permits, they often end up making their livings as maids, care-givers, dishwashers, waiters, street vendors, or prostitutes.

Street vendors, mostly from Senegal, selling counterfeit versions of luxury-brand handbags have become a visible part of Venice’s commercial landscape (photo from Migropolis: Venice, Atlas of a Global Situation, courtesy of Hatje Cantz)

Writing in the book’s lead essay, Scheppe notes that this study “makes a fundamental distinction between two motion patterns associated with globalization that intersect in [Venice’s] city center.” One reflects a “desired,” and the other a “forced” “movement of place”; the former is that of immigration, while the latter is that of tourism. Scheppe writes, “In the terminology of this [book’s] investigation, they are called leisure-based mobility and subsistence-based mobility.” In short, some people go to Venice for pleasure, because they want to and can; others make the journey for survival’s sake.

Scheppe and his team gathered the information that fed into Migropolis over a period of several years. Most of the people they identified as migrants explained that they had headed to Venice, either en route to other destinations or with the intention of staying there, in search of money-making opportunities. Many were expected to send large portions of their earnings back home to their families. The book includes probing interviews with a range of non-Italians who arrived and stayed in Venice or its neighboring Veneto region, legally or illegally, over the past two decades or so.

Density of daily commuter traffic on the mainland, just west of Venice; some 80,000 people travel into the historic city’s center each day to work in the tourism and other sectors (photo from Migropolis: Venice, Atlas of a Global Situation, courtesy of Hatje Cantz)

Their stories testify to the allure of the strange city (and its surrounding area of industrial tracts and colorless urban sprawl) that, centuries ago, was the center of a wealthy, sea-faring “Serene Republic” that ruled over a stretch of the Adriatic and even dared to take on the Ottoman Empire’s navy. Now, Migropolis notes, Venice has become a banalized, commercialized fantasy-myth of its former self, where old, neighborhood butcher shops are disappearing, only to make way for Chanel or Prada boutiques or such abominations as a Disney Store just a fish head’s throw from the famous, open-air Rialto market.

Claudia, a middle-aged migrant from Moldova, followed one of her adult daughters to Venice and worked there for five years as a house cleaner and cook. Bearing a Moldovan passport whose authenticity she doubted, Claudia lived with her daughter and two other people in a small apartment in Mestre, a city on the mainland, northwest of Venice. “[I]n Moldova, you can’t manage to live well. It’s a terrible life,” Claudia told the book’s interviewers. However, living hand to mouth in Italy, she realized that it would be hard to save up for an eventual return to her economically depressed, formerly communist homeland.

Claudia placed her trust in young men who regularly drove a van from Mestre back to her hometown in Moldova. Through them, for a fee, she sent her family “money, clothes, and pasta” she bought “by the kilo.” She cried when she told the book’s researchers, describing the van’s drivers, “They’re honest. They don’t steal anything.” Eventually, when her passport expired, Claudia left Italy. She had fallen ill and felt that, “as an illegal immigrant,” she would not be able “to get proper treatment” there.

Migropolis also examines the experiences of Mbaye, a 39-year-old from Senegal who earned a degree in urbanism at a university in France before making his way to Venice, where he works as a doorman at a posh hotel. Armed with the proper documents, he, his Senegalese wife, and their son live legally in Italy; Mbaye and his cousin own the house in which the family lives on the mainland.

Like many immigrants in adopted countries around the world today, Mbaye and his family stay in touch with their homeland by telephone, the internet and satellite television. “Venice is a welcoming city, and I have personally never experienced racism,” Mbaye told Migropolis’s researchers. Still, as an activist at heart, he helped create a Senegalese-Italian cultural association and he has aided new arrivals from his native country, most of whom have ended up peddling fake, luxury-brand handbags on Venice’s streets.

The Ponte della Paglia, from which the famous Bridge of Sighs may be seen, is Venice’s most heavily trafficked footbridge, where pedestrians are not allowed to stop (photo from Migropolis: Venice, Atlas of a Global Situation, courtesy of Hatje Cantz)

The book also profiles day-tripping tourists from Britain, the United States, and other countries, or those who stay for a few days, like three Chinese women in their twenties who were studying at a university in Spain and traveled to Venice for a quick sight-seeing jaunt. To prepare for their trip, they explained, they viewed Pier Paolo Pasolini’s Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom, an arty horror film from 1975. “It was painful to watch,” one of the Chinese students said, adding, “It was horrible, and we didn’t catch the real meaning.” Asked about their activities in Venice, one of the women replied, “We’re buying a lot of presents: masks, necklaces, silver handmade boats, to take to our friends.”

In fact, as Scheppe points out in the straightforward but still unmistakably critical tone that characterizes the texts in Migropolis (many of which are long captions for photo-essay spreads or imaginative charts and graphs presenting economic, demographic or other data), almost all of the “typical” Venetian souvenirs for sale in the city’s shops today are mass-produced in China.

In Migropolis, Scheppe and his research team take their critical-analytical cues from the Situationist theorist Guy Debord (1931-1994), who regarded the modern world as a kind of “spectacle,” in which authentic elements of social life had been replaced by mere “representations” of various kinds of gestures or cultural expressions. As Debord saw it, in modern society, genuinely meaningful relations between people had been replaced by relationships between humans and commodities — consumer products, staged-for-the-media events, or meaning-imbued brands.

In Venice, large-scale advertisements obscure iconic views and help create what Wolfgang Scheppe calls a “city of the spectacle” (photo from Migropolis: Venice, Atlas of a Global Situation, courtesy of Hatje Cantz)

Scheppe writes, “Venice has become the sum of its own images, making its visual reproduction the main guarantor of the city’s economic viability.” Nowadays, though, the façades of many of Venice’s iconic old buildings are routinely covered by advertising billboards, obscuring their architectural details. Still, selfie-snapping is incessant. Each day, day-trippers and overnighters combined nearly double Venice’s permanent population of roughly 55,000 (which is becoming ever older as young people leave in search of non-tourism-related job opportunities and affordable housing).

Venice residents have established environmental-protection and activist organizations to help save their city in the face of mounting crises; in December 2015, volunteers removed graffiti, stickers and posters from buildings’ exterior walls (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

Scheppe suggests that all the fake Venetian tchotchkes tourists scoop up today (often sold by Chinese immigrants to Chinese visitors) may be seen as symbols of what the once-powerful city has become — “a commodified image” of itself. Thus, he explains, it’s not the actual Venice, a once-glorious city-state whose fortunes and power began waning centuries ago, that some 20 million tourists a year come looking for; it’s their romanticized, media-nurtured idea of the place they’re seeking instead. They encounter even more evocations or representations of an imagined Venice in the real city once they arrive.

In an e-mail interview, Scheppe responded to my questions about the real Venice’s fate in his characteristically sober tone (tinged, perhaps, with just a hint of bittersweet irony). The genuine city, he pointed out, should not be blamed for its current conditions. Its transformation from “a unique medieval urban fabric” into a commodity that is “constantly [being] remodeled […] for maximal commercial exploitability” is an ongoing process, he noted, which cannot be stopped in the face of “the prosperity of business interests.”

Thus, he concludes, if it’s “Venice” you’re after, you might be better served by heading to one of the authentically fake Venices that have also become big tourist draws elsewhere on the planet — hotel-resorts called “The Venetian” that have been built in Las Vegas and Macao, both of which feature replicas of such icons of the real city as its Rialto Bridge, Campanile, Doge’s Palace, and gondola-filled canals.

For the film Secret Passage (2004), a full-size, fake-Venice set was constructed in an abandoned industrial area in Luxembourg (photo from Migropolis: Venice, Atlas of a Global Situation, courtesy of Hatje Cantz)

Scheppe informed me that, although he abhors what has befallen the real Venice, for now he finds its “slowly fading traces of a premodern territory” to be “truly enlightening.” But its loss, he added, “is inevitable.”

Oh, that sinking feeling…

Migropolis: Venice, Atlas of a Global Situation (2017) is published by Hatje Cantz and is available from Amazon and other online booksellers.

The post In Venice, With That Sinking Feeling appeared first on Hyperallergic.

from Hyperallergic http://ift.tt/2uA4KRc via IFTTT

[contiinuation]

I think that on some level my mother always blamed herself for my epilepsy. A lot of her theories were based on the fact that I was born a month too soon via c-section. She cites that the doctor may have pulled me out of her too aggressively or something, or perhaps he grabbed me by the neck the wrong way while I entered the world, kicking and screaming. Shortly after I was born, my lung collapsed. My mom has theorized that perhaps I went too long without oxygen and that’s why I found myself fighting a seizure disorder twelve years later. She blamed vaccinations for a while there. She also blamed braces for shifting my teeth around so drastically that I had developed a seizure disorder.

My mother blamed herself and the things she did for my seizures so naturally, she threw her entire being into fighting them.

My mom is a nurse of thirty years and has seen first hand what drugs (legal and not legal) can do to a person. She’s a pretty hard-headed and thick-skinned woman and I couldn’t do what she does on a daily basis. Growing up, her experience in the medical field seeped into our home life. Our family’s medicine cabinet was twice the size of all of my friends’ medicine cabinets and it was always filled to the brim with vitamins and medical supplies, including latex gloves, medical tape, surgical tools and she sometimes kept syringes locked in the other medicine cabinet in her bathroom. I even saw an IV drip bag up there once. I never thought this was weird but in retrospect maybe the syringes were a little bit questionable. It’s nice to know, though, that if the absolute end of time occurred while I lived with my parents, I would have a generally good chance of surviving and repopulating the earth.

With respects to drugs though, my mom was a firm believer that there’s always something natural out there that can cure minor ailments like headaches and period cramps. She liked the idea of curing things naturally rather than turning to harsh drugs to fix things. Advil and Claritin made very rare appearances in our house. Period cramps were treated with a heating pad and this weird tea she brought home from Russia once (which worked). Muscle pain required magnesium. Have a headache? Take a nap and down a litre of water. Allergies? Nettle tea and Vitamin C. Nauseous? Ginger tea. Cold and flu? My grandma used to make this mixture which was basically a full jar of liquid honey that was packed to the brim with lemon and ginger slices along with fifteen to twenty cloves of garlic. I swear one tablespoon cured you within hours.

My mom applied the same logic to my seizure disorder. Before my doctor could put me on meds (I hadn’t had enough seizures/tests done until six months after the first one for him to make a formal diagnosis allowing him to write the appropriate prescription) my mom tried what felt like every possible natural remedy on the face of the planet.

Remedy #1: Aura Cleansing

When I first got sick, I remember having a lot of appointments in a very short time frame. One of the first ones took place in a little apartment building in North York. I’m pretty sure it was an under-the-table operation because this was literally in this little Eastern European lady’s apartment and she was adamant about it being cash-only. My mom explained this appointment to me as “aura cleansing,” something that would “draw negative energy out of my me”.

The Eastern European lady had a few degrees hanging on the wall of her kitchen stating that she was certified in accounting from a local university and one in Russia. She had another certificate hanging next to the accounting degrees allowing her to practice in the field of Holistic health and healing.

I remember looking around and thinking it was a homey apartment. It vaguely resembled my grandmother’s in Poland: there were doilies on every piece of furniture and it smelled somewhat like boiled potatoes. She also had a beautiful cat, Felix, who was long and slender and spotted like a Jaguar and I loved him.

After asking my mom and I a few questions about my general health the lady lead us into a spare bedroom where she had a bookshelf, a loveseat and a massage table. My mom sat down on the loveseat and the lady turned on a radio that played ocean noises at a soft volume. I took my place on the table and the lady asked me to close my eyes and started talking me through deep-breathing exercises, which lasted an entire half-hour. I started getting restless. She then moved on to asking me to stay completely still while she hovered her hands over my entire body in steady, rhythmic motions. I remember thinking, “if the problem is in my brain, then how the hell is this going to help?”

By the end of the appointment I was primarily fixated on finding Felix again. I was relatively smart for a twelve year old. I knew this “aura cleansing” wasn’t going to help a problem in my brain. My mom paid the lady while I hung out on the floor of her foyer with the cat.

In the car my mom and I talked about how I felt about the appointment. I told her I didn’t like sitting still for so long but I didn’t complain. I knew she was just trying to help. We went back a couple more times but eventually I think my mom clued in that I didn’t like going and didn’t think these “aura cleansing” sessions weren’t helping. I continued having seizures regardless of how much this Russian accountant cleansed my aura. The appointments frequently interfered with my normal kid stuff like Girl Guides and homework and whatnot so we never went back.

Remedy #2: Biofeedback Therapy

Around the same time as the aura cleansing sessions, my mom started taking me to an ADD/Biofeedback clinic close to our house. My parents told me that these sessions would help me control my seizures, like when or if they happen and the severity of them. I didn’t fight it because it sounded fantastic in theory - if I could control them then I could theoretically never have a seizure ever again. These appointments would prove to be equally as useless as the aura cleansing. At the very least, these appointments helped me come to terms with how little control I had over my life anymore.

The first appointment was focused on teaching you proper breathing techniques and how to divert your focus to certain parts of your brain. I’m not sure of the specifics of it but it was a weirdly satisfying experience being able to direct my brain processes and I knew it was working because I could feel it. I could literally feel my brain waves diverting themselves at my control. I’ve retained the ability to do that and sometimes I divert my focus for fun.

This clinic was huge and there were individual rooms where patients would be hooked up to a machine that resembled an EEG machine. With this machine you would basically be controlling a virtual game on a computer screen with your brain waves and breathing pattern. My favourite was the roller coaster game: the roller coaster would speed along the track as long as you kept your focus and breathing rate to a certain standard. With every game you completed successfully in a  given time frame you’d be awarded points and eventually you would be able to exchange your points for prizes. It was like a Chuck-E-Cheese for kids with neurological conditions.

When I collected enough points I traded them in for a $20 gift card to Chapters. The day I won the gift card my mom and dad took me to the bookstore and I bought one of those Guinness Book of World Records books. I came across the book in my parents basement a couple weeks ago and smiled.

I wish Biofeedback Therapy worked for me. The outcome sounds like a dream. Being about to control when and where and if you have seizures sounds like a dream. However, unfortunately, they didn’t work. Seizures kept happening regardless of how hard I tried to redirect my brain waves - and believe me, I tried, but they continued.

Remedy #3: Dairy-Free and Gluten-Free Diet

Right after my diagnosis with Epilepsy my mother did a lot of internet research and came to the conclusion that dairy and gluten would be ultimately detrimental to my health. We went back to the aura-cleansing lady - who happened to also have a vast amount of knowledge about the dietary needs of epileptics - who confirmed that dairy and gluten in any form should be avoided in every way possible.

I’d never been a picky eater so this diet never really phased me in the slightest. It didn’t help with my seizures at all but living without dairy and gluten didn’t bother me. I managed to find substitutes for all of my favourite things, some things I ended up liking more than the original anyway.

This diet lasted two years. No one actually forced me to stick to it for this long; I genuinely liked the foods I was eating for those two years and I felt generally more physically healthy, but I started to miss the fun foods that I could technically no longer eat. The fact that I was getting older also didn’t help. I was going out with friends more often and we’d usually eat out or order in, and take-out dairy-free, gluten-free food wasn’t typically available anywhere at that point in time.

One night in 2011 I found myself at Laura’s house. Her mom made a Baked Alaska for her birthday. I wasn’t going to say no to a slice of birthday cake for my best friend’s birthday, so I took a big slice thinking nothing of the potential consequences of eating dairy for the first time in two years.

That night, Laura’s toilet and I spent a long night together. I’ll spare you the gruesome details. I will never put any blame on my mother for my epilepsy, however, I will credit her for the role that she played in my lactose intolerance. Remedy #4: Holistic Electro-Treatment

I’ve scoured the web and I don’t even know what to call this treatment because I can’t find any evidence of it existing, but I know it exists because it’s yet another thing my mom thought would cure me of epilepsy. So I will call it Holistic Electro-Treatment.

I started suffering from hay fever and migraines the spring before I turned seventeen. At this point I was taking medication for my seizures and had been seizure-free for almost three years. I didn’t like mixing drugs so I generally avoided taking antihistamines and pain relievers and I was open to any forms of treatment that would make the itching inside my face go away.

My mom had a friend at work who suggested this treatment that consisted of strategically placed electric currents running through your body that would treat allergies and epilepsy and various other ailments, including my newfound lactose intolerance. This treatment also sounded incredible because it was kind of an all-in-one type deal, but it didn’t work.

My first appointment was with this lady in the basement of an office complex. My mom came with me and sat as I sat on a table and the therapist-lady showed me the pen-shaped device that would omit the slightest current of electricity. She ran through a series of basic questions about my medical history, and then asked if I had any body piercings, as the metal could interfere with the electric currents.

My mom was old-fashioned, and that's why I hadn’t told her about the time I got my navel pierced. She was so incredibly against any body modifications. When I was fifteen I dragged Genn to some sketchy basement apartment where a little non-English speaking woman did tattoos and piercings. I was on a mission to get my nose pierced. Now, the legal age to get such a piercing without parental permission was sixteen, so I was under age, but I was referred there by an acquaintance from school who said that this place doesn’t ID kids who come through there. I was nervous as I was filling out the form with a fake name and age, but I was determined. She pulled a tiny needle out of a sterile package and  pushed it through my nose, and with that I had my first facial piercing. I showed up back at home around 7pm that night and did everything I could to avoid my parents, but they had to see me eventually, right? I eventually ventured upstairs, holding my head down until they eventually noticed the sparkly rhinestone stud sticking out of my face. They were - within their rights - pissed about it. To my surprise, my dad was more pissed than my mom, who later approached me and told me she liked the facial piercing, saying that it was “cute”. My dad hated it and I think he was more pissed that I went out of my way to go somewhere that was probably unsafe to get a foreign lady who ran an illegal operation in her basement to “hole punch my face”, as he so lovingly put it. Not even twenty four hours later he paid me double the cost of the piercing itself to take it out (I was a relentlessly stubborn kid), followed by him driving me to our local LifeLabs to get my blood and urine tested for diseases. Everything came back negative, for the record.

My next piercing after that was a navel piercing that I had done (when I was legal to) at a local tattoo/piercing shop. That was easier to hide, so when my mom took me to this electro-therapy session and the therapist asked me about any piercings I was nervous. I told her no, thinking “why the hell would this woman want to see my belly button,” when she pulled out the electric-pen-type device and tried to start the session. It turns out that (and I could be wrong because I don’t know the specifics of the treatment), when you stimulate certain points on the body with slight electric currents you can normalize the functions that those nerve endings control and the belly button is one of those points that would help with either my allergies, seizures or lactose intolerance. Before she could even touch me with her electric pen, I told her I had to pee and I went to the bathroom to take out the belly ring.  I hoped to God that the appointment would be short enough for me to shove it back in without it closing over or scabbing up. I went back to the table and laid down so the therapist could work her magic with her electric pen. She eventually got to my belly button and saw the very obvious hole in my abdomen and asked me about it. My heart was pounding because I didn’t want my mother hearing about this but I think she was on her phone and fortunately didn’t hear. I told the therapist I had the piercing done recently but took it out soon after. She shrugged it off and continued working. When it was over I went to the bathroom again to put it back in. It slid in without a problem and I left her office after a consultation about my dietary habits and little changes I could make to help with hay fever.

I went back several times because I noticed that the hay fever slowly went away and my digestive system could tolerate moderate amounts of lactose again, which I was happy about. I was able to rediscover my love for half and half in coffee and cheese on sandwiches. I eventually stopped going around August because it got expensive and it got hard to make appointments that I could keep. I was a busy sixteen year old, I guess.

My digestive system’s aversion to lactose eventually came back and I found that my hay fever also came back the following September when the ragweed came out. I can’t say with any level of certainty that it helped with my seizures because I hadn’t had any when this treatment started but I had a couple in January following the treatment’s end in August.

Remedy #5 Ancient Chinese Medicine

In 2009, my parents took me to see a Traditional Chinese Herbalist. I was probably thirteen at the time and we packed up the car and drove up town to North York. I was mad that I was missing the first half of a get-together Genn was hosting for what would turn out to be another disappointing attempt to stop my seizures. I wasn’t on my meds at this point so my mom was adamant that we give this doctor a shot.

I don’t remember much about the appointment itself except for the doctor asking us about my medical history and concluding that I was to be given a potent concoction of various herbs once a week, many of which looked like bark pulled fresh from a tree. The doctor gave us five individually packaged baggies of dried herbs and plants and whatnot and explained to my mom that each package was to be put into a big pot and covered with six cups of boiling water and simmered until only one cup of liquid remained.

I was to drink this potion once a week. So every Saturday morning for five weeks straight I awoke to the smell of what can only be described as the damp remnants of a cedar tree forest fire, charcoal, gasoline and sadness.

Now, like I mentioned before, I’m not a picky eater. I never have been. When I was fifteen I ate a nice, warm spoonful of unseasoned lamb brain and washed it down with tepid beer. However, this traditional herbal medicine-based liquid was something I couldn’t stomach. The fact that I had doubts about it working didn’t help it go down either. Every gulp felt like a hopeless effort into stopping something in my brain that was virtually uncontrollable. However I carried on. At the very least, I told myself I would try.

I got through five weeks of treatment before deciding I had enough. I had a seizure on May 22nd of that year after five rounds of this traditional Chinese medicine and declined another appointment with the herbalist. Actually, thirteen year old me threw a fit and my parents didn’t bother fighting back.

--

I think my mom thought she was doing more good than harm, and realistically there was no harm done, but the more “remedies” for my seizures that my mother tried, the more exhausted I felt. Over time I started resenting her for putting me through the wringer: I felt smothered and tired and I wanted all of her tactics to stop. I was at peace with the idea of dealing with infrequent seizures without the aid of medical intervention.

Eventually she toned it down. When I got headaches or had seizures she was loving and attentive and as I got older I felt less smothered and suppressed by her constant worrying. I’ve since moved out and I only see my parents every other weekend, but I still get a text at 7:30 in the morning and in the evening every day reminding me about my meds. For that I’m thankful: I would forget most days because I’m a little absent-minded in the morning and usually just shut my alarm off and immediately forget about taking my meds.

I always made it clear to her, though, that I love her and I never blamed her for my epilepsy at all. I never understood the guilt she carried until I got older. I don’t currently have kids but I can’t imagine watching your child suffer and not be able to fight the battle for them. She still comes to appointments with me, and it hurts my heart to still see the guilt in her eyes, even though she isn’t as expressive about it anymore. These days, she just looks tired.