#people with periods should probably get their iron levels checked on the regular

[rosesutherlandwrites]

PSA: Do you feel low grade exhausted and sad and kinda stupid all the time? Do you also have a period? Maybe you are depressed for no discernible reason...but maybe you should get your iron checked! This post brought to you by my having been on the brink of a nervous breakdown thinking all my energy and my ability to focus and create had up and left me and I was just getting old and tired and it was awful...and then discovering I'm actually catastrophically anaemic.

[mommymooze]

Grand ReOpening

Hubert x Reader 5,613 words

descriptions of violence, possession, Modern AU

You work at the newly remodeled and soon to be reopened Museum of History in Enbarr. A huge fire caused devastating damage to the old building, over half of the structure had to be rebuilt from the ground up. Donations pour in from private collectors in the form of money and items to replace those lost to the flames.

You finish arranging the items in the display finally locking the door on the huge glass case. Some items donated were questionable. Everything in this case is legitimate, you reassure yourself. You have already weeded out the fakes, the near perfect imitations. The director asks you how do you know? You explain to him the materials available for crafting such items, known specifics from inventories found in the locked away historical books, too delicate to be placed upon display. Sometimes you tell him you just have a feeling deep inside based on your experience and knowledge of the period. You can’t tell him the truth.

Whenever you touch one of these items, you close your eyes, the history of the item and its owners flash through your mind. It is easy to bypass the collectors, the ones that shove an item in drawers or hang it on a wall as a decoration for years at a time. The imprint left on the item when it was handled, touched, used is what you are able to see most clearly.

The small silver dagger in the upper left of the case. Its card reads: Dorothea Arnault owned this fine silver dagger. It is small enough to conceal in multiple places upon the body. Perhaps she may have concealed it in the curls of her hair for a ball or tucked it away in her corset or bodice.

They write the cards to romanticize the exhibit. People want a good story, not simply a display of stuffy items from long ago. Who would want to read a card stating she kept this particular dagger tucked into a pocket in her left boot for many years, which is exactly what you saw when you touched it.

Metal rimmed reading glasses belonging to the Imperial Spy Master, Hubert von Vestra. The card: Perhaps he wore them while brewing one of his poisons or when translating encoded messages during the war. Hah. He did not obtain these until fifty years old and mostly wore them when reading a book that struck his fancy prior to retiring for the evening.

Ferdinand von Aegir’s opera glasses. The Card: Fine mother-of-pearl covered opera glasses belonged to the Imperial Prime Minister, Ferdinand von Aegir. He may have used them when going to the Mittlefrank Opera house to watch Dorothea perform. Nope. Mother gave him these when he was but a child. Once he was older, after the war, he purchased a pair that much better suited his face, these were much too small for him as an adult.

Oh my, you’ve lost track of the time again. You scurry out of the building, making certain all doors lock behind you. Making it home just in time to change clothes, freshen up, you head back out for the Museum’s Grand Reopening Gala. Thankfully you are not on the front lines, that is the duty of the Curator, the Directors, those on the board and anyone responsible for schmoozing the rich guests, many who donated to the cause, keeping them happy. You put on your headset and have three laptops at your disposal, ready to answer any questions the staff has regarding particular items on display. You are literally fielding questions left and right. To the left are the searches for the director’s queries, to the right the Curator. In the center you follow on the security monitors where they are standing helping you to identify which particular item they need additional information about. Well past midnight you are finally allowed to leave. Security escorts you to your car and you head home for a well deserved sleep.

Two days later is the Grand Reopening. The tickets sold out three months in advance. The most devoted history fans always line up first to observe and breathe in the milieu. Listening to them mill about the displays, pour over the cases of preciously preserved objects is a joy for you.

“Look, this mirror belonged to the Emperor herself. I wonder what these items could say if they could speak. Did they reflect her face as she finished her makeup before one of the grand balls at the time, I wonder?” You knew the answers to some of their ponderings and could not hide your smirk.

A very tall dark haired male catches your eye. Dark suit jacket, black satin shirt, very nicely tailored. His jet black hair blocks the right side of his face from view. His fine leather gloves barely hover over the display case as he observes the items contained within. It suggests a hint of cosplay? Or perhaps he is attempting to channel the spirit of Lord Vestra? Your eyes sweep about the room regularly, spotting him in several different locations, each time it appears he is studying items that had belonged to the man he resembles. You wish you could see his face more clearly, however his back is turned or someone is in the way. You quietly move towards the end of the circuit the floor plan leads you through, close to the guard by the exit. There are three items of clothing belonging to Hubert this person would probably pause to examine, perhaps you can obtain a good look at his face then.

Finally, you glance through two panes of glass to see the face of the man. There is a strong resemblance to Hubert. Not exact, of course, but the cheek bones were close, the eyes are a similar shade of green. His skin tone is much darker, not nearly as pale. Your attention is taken away as the security guard a few feet from you is asked a question by an older woman.

Your focus is then called in front of you as a polite “Ahem” is noted. Standing directly before you and requesting your notice is none other than the tall dark gentleman that you have been secretively following for the last 30 minutes.

“My apologies. Not to be a bother, but I believe that you work here and would like to ask your opinion about something.” His long slender gloved fingers reach into his breast pocket, pulling out a golden box about the size of a cigarette case, barely a centimeter thick. His thumb activates a button on the case and the lid pops open revealing a dull yet clean looking folded yellowed cloth. The initials H.v.V. are sewn in black thread close to the bottom edge. The cloth is folded in a different manner than it normally lies in order to display the initials on top.

You raise your right hand up to the level of the box which is even with your chin. Touching the material with an index finger you feel the violence connected with the item, fainting straightaway.

You find yourself in the employee’s lounge with two security officers and the strange man. He is seated at a table nearby, you are located pleather covered chaise lounge, reclined. Bolting upright on the lounger, you gather your senses about you. The security officers called for EMT’s to check you out. Fortunately, you were unconscious for maybe a minute or less. You flush bright red and blame it on ‘female issues’. They insist that you remain and be checked out.

“I am terribly sorry. I assisted in bringing you back here and now that I know you are well cared for, I shall excuse myself.” The stranger stands to leave. You reach in your pocket, thrusting your business card toward him. He completes the exchange by handing you his. As he returns to the public areas of the museum the EMT’s arrive and begin their 1,000 questions.

After every possible vital statistic can be taken and recorded, they finally leave you to yourself and the security of the museum. They nod in agreement that it was most likely ‘female issues’ and you should increase your iron intake. Once you finally convince your boss that you are well enough to leave, you get in your car, grab some drive thru dinner and head directly home.

A warm cup of tea, comfortable clothing and your soft couch beneath you, you take a deep breath and begin to relax. You mull over what happened when you touched the handkerchief. That sort of reaction is expected when you touch weapons used in the war, used for self-defense, etcetera. You did not expect that from a handkerchief. The cloth was normally soaked in a strong smelling agent and held over the face of his target. Too early for ether, most likely mandrake root. Normally it would cause the target to quickly become unconscious, occasionally it would cause illness along with and possibly but not always death. One of Hubert’s weapons in the darkness, when silence was required.

You pull out the business card. Vincent H. Vestraegir. Hmmm. Possibly from the line of descendants. You enter his number and name into your phone, then text it.

You: I gave you my card at the museum. Do you still wish to discuss the

item?

Waiting for approximately 20 minutes you hear the notification tone.

V.H.V: Absolutely. Perhaps meet for coffee? Thursday or Saturday?

You: Thursday. Crown Café, 10am, after the morning rush has cleared.

V.H.V: Agreed. See you then.

Working on your day off, as usual. You log onto the Museum’s Employee website to check your email, the top notification is from your supervisor telling you that you will take a few days for yourself. The success of the reopening is greatly due to your hard work and you will take the rest of the week off. See you Saturday.

Well, well, you may get some sleep after all. After a fitful night of restlessness and strange dreams you awaken Thursday morning feeling overtired. It would be in poor taste to cancel the meeting, so you get up, showered and dressed. You decide that since you are doing this basically for free for this man, you have no obligation to him and refuse to dress up. Wearing your hair in a messy pony tail, GMU sweatshirt and jeans you head to the coffee shop a bit early. Hopefully you can get a full cup into you and wake up before he arrives.

You order a coffee double shot and finish it quickly. Bathroom, order new regular coffee, take a seat and it’s 9:50am. In the corner of your eye you see him walking past the café’s front window. This makes you smile, but you are not certain why.

He takes his seat across from you at 9:59am.

“Good morning” you greet him casually.

“Same to you.” He says, placing his phone face down on the table. He wears a long sleeve black turtleneck, fine dress pants, and black gloves.

“Please tell me what history you know of the handkerchief.” You request.

“Skipping pleasantries, straight to business, eh?” His lip curls at the edge of his mouth on the right side. “See if I pick you up off the floor the next time you faint.”

You roll your eyes.

He clears his throat. “There are several items that have been kept within the family. I do not understand the meaning behind them, why they are kept in separate or specific locations within the family residence or what significance they mean to particular members of the family. My family history appears to go through highs and lows, the most recent low is turning around, getting back toward recovery.” He pauses, enjoying his coffee for a moment. “My mother recently passed and I am now in possession of the family estate. I have not had much time to go through the property, my work is my priority. I have no intention of living there and have considered selling it. There are few things I plan on keeping for myself, the rest may go to the museum should you be able to find a use for them. I noticed at the exhibition there were some unusual items on display that I do not normally recall seeing in museum exhibitions.”

Quaffing your coffee, you take a breath. “I am sorry for your loss. The museum is changing its thought process. People are more interested in seeing the everyday life of those from history. The differences are always blown out of proportion, romanticized, too large to be true. The current exhibition is displaying the things of everyday life, to show these were not only persons held in high regard, but also humans with human needs, feelings, emotions. I agree with some of this, however there are personal items that I question if they would really want to have displayed.”

Mr. Vestraegir thinks on these last remarks, savoring the remainder of his caffeinated beverage. “Why are you concerned about the feelings of the dead? It is not as if they can come to you and complain.”

“Let us say this afternoon you are struck dead by lightning. The funeral is held in three days. Open casket. You are dressed in a white tuxedo, no gloves upon your hands. How would you feel about that?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Preposterous!” He blurts out. “I would insist on having gloves on and I have an ample amount of perfectly adequate black dress suits.”

“Why should be concerned with the feelings of the dead again? Why is it that you wear gloves? The weather is certainly warm enough they are not needed. You are extremely familiar with wearing them.”

“Hmm.” He nods in understanding, rubbing one gloved hand upon the other.

“You do have me intrigued. It is difficult to find pieces of history still standing today. It has been hundreds of years.” You wonder aloud.

“The original structure has been incorporated into the current structure. At one point walking through a corridor it feels as if you are stepping backward in time. Quite an unusual feeling.”

“When do you plan on returning there next?” You ask, thinking of your full calendar.

“In the next day or so. I want to go through some things personally prior to the movers bringing the more recently purchased furniture here.”

“I would like to accompany you to the estate. If you like, I can drive us there this afternoon. I need only to pack an overnight bag and a few items for research. My guess is you do not have internet there?”

“No.” He answers. You would have to use your phone. Not all of the house has electric, so you may wish to bring some flashlights or long extension cords as well.

Fantastic, less disturbance to the original structure you ponder. “I can pick you up in an hour if that suits you?”

He nods and it is a blur from there. Rushing home, packing, picking him up at the duplex at the address he provides. Stashing his items in the trunk you are headed to the highway.

Vincent as he prefers to be called, tells you what information he knows of the Vestra Estate. He had lived there for the first years of his youth. He and his father did not get along well and mother abided by fathers wishes. By the time he turns 12 he is sent to boarding school, graduating straight into college. Finishing his degree in law minor in accounting, he is an atty and CPA/Accountant.

There may be a few books at the property that have a bit of history in them, he’s never had much interest.

A brief stop at the store close to the house, you purchase groceries. Simple premade sandwiches, a few frozen dinners, drinks and snacks. As you wait in the car you suddenly realize you have driven far from the city with a perfect stranger, not even leaving a trail of where you are or who you are with. The perfect setting for a murder. How stupid! You quickly drop an email to your landlord, advising of your destination and how long you expect to be gone. You hesitate and do not leave Vincent’s name, that would only lead to more questions from her as she is determined to set you up with a nice bachelor.

Another 30 minutes and your car is pulling into the long driveway, the large house comes into view. He unlocks the door to show you in. He really doesn’t know much of the history of the place, it had never interested him. The two of you unload the car and he has you place your things in his mother’s old bedroom, located in a newer section of the house that has electric and running water. He goes back to the kitchen to work on groceries.

Beds are so personal. You take a breath and complete the touch. Trying to keep your mind focused on the edge of your vision. Fortunately, it is a newer bed and does not take long to complete. You will be fine sleeping here.

Vincent invites you to the more modern kitchen and the location of the food, coffee, and sundried items. He has a few things to attend to, leaving you free rein of the house to explore. He will get to specifics later tonight or in the morning.

He is absolutely correct about the corridor, they had built on to the house in multiple stages. You enter through the most recent and modern additions. The corridor seems to reach back further and further.

You slowly walk down the walls touching each section. Perceiving people passing through the corridors fill your vision, styles of clothing changing as you progress. You touch the doorframe of a small bedroom in an older portion of the house. The faces of the occupants quickly parade before you. You will the flow to slow, a young girl clings to a doll, nodding with tears in her eyes. Then the next owner, a young male perhaps ten years old with hair to his shoulders, citrine eyes. His brows are furrowed, and he is shouting, but you cannot hear what he says, anger written all over his face, his brows furrow deeply as if he argues with someone just behind you. The door appears as he is slamming it shut. Was that Hubert? Could this have been his room, you wonder. The room is decorated with old wallpaper with a feminine print. The coat of dust on the few furnishings reveals that the room has not been used or tended to for many, many years. The curtains on the window are of a thin lace, possibly being held together by the spider webs covering them, the bottom inches shredded threads.

The mantel of the fireplace and baseboards are the only pieces painted. The rest is left to the beauty of the original wood and bricks. Running your hands over the bricks at the edge of the fire box you see countless hands stacking wood, lighting the kindling, flames beginning to burn bright in the small firebox. Finally, you see older gloved hands, incredibly long fingers waving as fire bursts from their fingertips into the kindling. There are gaps until much younger but long spindly fingers cast magic into the wood creating flames.

Touching the firebricks making up the fireplace you reach out to the bottom bricks. On the right, the furthest one back is loose. A bit of maneuvering and you pull the block from its wedged in position. Three bottles lie on their sides. Without thinking you reach in to grab them. Hubert’s face comes into view, laughing with the bottles in hand. These are definitely his poison bottles, contents long dried. His handwriting on the side, coded of course, one is foxglove, the next mandrake and last is nightshade. A small paintbrush is also in the hollowed space. Removing the item provides visions of blades and darts being painted, and then the interior of a teacup.

Diabolical bastard. You admire him and hate him both at the same time. The Empire would not have won the war without him, however you did not need to firsthand witness his secrets. Sitting on the floor you catch your breath. The daylight is fading and you need to go back to your bag and set up lights and a flash light.

The room is different in the too bright halogen light. Rubber gloves in your pockets, in case something more lethal is found are at the ready. You begin touching the floorboards with your bare feet. You will notice if any has a special significance of course. Only after moving the bed and the rug that is beneath it do you find something. (the bed is approximately 300 years old, mostly for children, same with the rug.) A pocketknife blade at a corner edge and the board lifts quite easily. Several items are stashed between the supports for the floor. Gloves on and flashlight in hand you reach in and remove the items, placing them in a large clear plastic bag. You replace the floorboard and return the bed and rug to its normal position.

“Keeping yourself entertained?” Victor chuckles as he enters the room.

“Found a few things. Haven’t had a chance to look them over yet.” You say as you take the halogen lamp to the next room to inspect.

“I can make it easy for you as far as what few things I know.” He offers. “You’ve already been under the floorboard there. Next the master bedroom.” He turns that direction and you follow him with the light, dragging the extension cord behind you. He steps until he hears a hollow spot at a floorboard by the head of the bed, taking out his pocket knife, he lifts the board out of place, then steps back for you to see.

Bringing the flashlight you see a jacknife and several gold coins. You pick them up with your gloves on and place them into a separate plastic bag.

“That is all I know. I found the floorboard when I was much younger, so of course I had to stomp on every floorboard after that listening for hollow sounds.” He grins.

“Quite logical, actually.” You nod. “As a boy I am surprised that you left them here.”

He coughs. “There were more coins, I did leave some.” He looks away, the tips of his ears turning pink.

You both decide to stop searching for the evening. You’ve not had dinner yet and tomorrow is another day. Besides, you want to investigate the floorboard items further as well as show him the items found behind the fireplace.

Dinner is quickly tossed into a microwave, coffee brewed and laptops pulled out onto the kitchen table, connected to the internet via the cell phones. Both of you sit quietly, only forks scraping plates or fingers tapping on keyboards for an hour.

Closing your laptop, you place a soft towel on top and the first bag with the items from the fireplace. Wearing a glove on your right hand you take each item out of the bag, placing them on the towel.

“There were owned and handled by Hubert. I believe them to be bottles of his own poison. The brush is used to paint it upon his weapons, mostly daggers.” You relay to your tablemate.

Vincent’s eyes go wide. “You’ve just seen them. How can you swear to their authenticity?”

“The appearance matches what you would find from the time. The writing on the bottles closely resembles his handwriting from the samples we have at the museum, and the code is correct for three different poison types. The brush appears to be animal hair that would be used at the time, stuffed into the end of a tube and then crimped to hold the hair tight.”

Taking a small box of plastic bags, you pack each item individually. As you reach for the third bottle it tips over and rolls off of your laptop. You grab it with your left hand and read its history. Your eyes focus as Vincent’s fingers are snapping in your face.

“Come on, are you all right?” He questions.

“Um, yes.” You shake your head a bit, placing the item in a bag and back into the larger bag with the other items.

“Are you epileptic? You spaced out there. Please let me know if you have health issues.” Vincent pleads, the concern is heavy in his voice.

“It…it’s hard to explain.” You want to tell him something. You’re never this open with people, but he makes you feel like it is okay to let him know.

“Go on.” He says waiting patiently.

“I can see some things related to a history of an item just by touching it. I see who used it, how long ago it was when used. Yes. I must be crazy.” You nod quickly after your confession.

“I want to see it work.” He frowns, two wrinkles between his eyebrows get deeper. He stands and goes to a drawer, pulling out a large spoon and a knife. Both appear to be silver, one more tarnished and scraped that the other. He places them on the laptop.

You grab the spoon. You see his mother’s hand stirring long yellow beans in a pot before pouring a creamy sauce onto them, then it changes to different people, an older stove, another older stove. A black ceramic stove stirring gravy in a large heavy skillet.

“Your mother liked to use it for cooking yellow beans. It has been here for several hundred years, at least 300 based on the dress of the last man who had a beard was dressed.”

He looks down at the table and thinks a moment. “She loved wax beans. They look like green beans but taste a bit different. She would cook them in a sour and creamy sauce. She said the spoon was in the family for a long time. Now the knife.”

Taking the silver knife in your fingers it shows she used it nearly every day to put butter on rolls with jelly. There was a lot of time in the drawer, different users. Clothing styles changed. The age of the silver butterknife is closer to 450 or 500 years old.

You share your findings.

“I’m still not convinced.” Vincent reaches into his shirt, and pulls out a gold necklace with a ring hanging from it. A simple gold band with its necklace is placed with hesitation on the laptop. As he places it there your hand brushes against his glove.

“Your gloves are four months old, purchased at Baers and the saleslady had red hair. Just saying.” You clear your throat and take a sip of now too cold coffee.

Reaching for the ring your fingers touch it softly. Your mind is filled with its memories. He has it with him all the time, takes it off for nothing, then you see the crash, blood everywhere. You fall headfirst into the table. Vincent helps you sit back up in your seat as tears are streaming from your face.

“I…I am so sorry for your loss.” You choke and gasp as the tears fall from your eyes. “M-motorcycle crash. Five years ago. He would bring you little yellow flowers he picked from the side of the road.”

Vincent’s face lost all color. A tear fell to his cheek as he nodded. He took the necklace back and put it around his neck.

After a while he took the cups to the sink, “I think it is time to sleep.”

You nod and head to bed. For hours you lay there, unable to sleep as your mind plays back the last nine years of Vincent and his husband’s lives, together and apart. You should have refused to touch it, but you wanted him to believe. And now…now. You shake your head, turn over and stare at the wall again.

The alarm on your phone wakes you. You want to flee, leave this place. It is one thing when someone shares with you tragedies in the past, it is another to have them thrust upon you. You push yourself out of bed. You can make it through today. Once in the kitchen the coffee has just finished you reach to grab a cup. Seeing the two in the dish drainer, you carefully pick out the cup you used yesterday.

You find a note on the table that he has gone for a walk and to go through the boxes he has left in the living room. Grabbing a muffin from the counter you head to the boxes. Wearing glove you begin. A few interesting books, certainly a possibility to go into a collection, many of them simply too modern or of no interest to the museum in their current condition. A box of random items haphazardly placed into a wooden box. Some woodworking tools, chisels, a pocket watch that did not work but was several hundred years old. A coffee grinder, you would definitely need to check that out. Taking that and the watch you sit at the kitchen table. One by one you experience the history of the items. The pocket watch came from approximately 1300. The coins from the floor and jack knife were owned by Hubert’s father, Marquis Vestra. The coffee grinder, broken by a child, had belonged to Hubert at one time well after the war, during his retirement.

The bags from the child’s bedroom revealed two very different groups of items. Vincent himself had placed items in a pocket next to the ones he had originally discovered. Thinking they were a time capsule, he created one of his own including a letter about his 9 year old self, a green plastic army man named Lt. Schwartz, a yo yo and a few baseball cards. The other group of items were from a young girl. A cloth doll with a few wisps of hair still left on its head. A tiny gold ring. A slate and stylus used for writing letters and numbers, the wax long eaten away. A small carved wooden horse.

Deciding to see if there is anything in the last room as well as completing your inspection of the master bedroom, you take your half cup of coffee with you down the hallway. Coming to the end of the corridor, you hear a sound behind you. Turning slowly, you see the countenance of Hubert von Vestra walking toward you. Outfitted in his full Imperial dress uniform, his large stiff collar extends several inches up from his shoulders. A ruby red brooch holds down his cravat. You drown in the sound of leather creaking from his belts on his clothes and the swish of the heavy material of his jacket. His boots create a deep a thunking sound echoing down the hallway.

“Finally.” He says with great satisfaction. “It has been an eternity.” His right hand, void of gloves, reaches out to you, fingertips softly stroking your cheek. His pale skin is cool to the touch, it has always been that way, you think to yourself. He opens his arms welcoming you to be wrapped within them. Burying your nose in his chest you deeply inhale the familiar scent of coffee, parchment, ink and dark magic. How you have longed for this.

“What of Vincent?” you ask him, looking up into his beautiful yellow-green eyes sparkling down at you.

“We have come to an agreement.” Hubert chuckles.

The vibration of his chest, his deep laughter sends chills down your spine. After waiting nearly a thousand years to have him back in your arms the reward is so worth it.

Epilogue:

Each lifetime you searched for him, but your journeys were fruitless. This girl was the most cooperative, the most willing. You found her worse than Bernadetta in some aspects of her life, especially social. She shared this body, watching from behind, creating stories in her mind. You take control and immediately begin your plan. The museum holds his property, perhaps by touching these items you can call to him. Send a signal that you are here. But they would not let you touch the things that belonged to him. The display items you could reach, touch, were not his, only beautiful recreations. Even items held in storage at the museum were not his. You had developed a spell to obtain the history of an item by touch.

It was awful that you had to burn down part of the museum, but you needed access and you needed legitimate items. What people wouldn’t do to have their name on a placard as a donor. From the items donated several very real items were found. You found yourself touching them frequently, just to catch another glimpse of him. Your cohabitant could not take the violence, she caused you to faint so frequently. Perhaps now she may finalize her agreement with you, being released and then you and Hubert can finally have the lifetime together that was stolen from you during that horrible war.

You spoke often of death, war does that. Both agreed to move on and live the best life they could. Finding out Ferdinand was at his side made you happy, especially since it made him happy. Still, he had promised that no matter what, he would find you again and finish what was started. And so the rest of your lives begins…

[tcfkag]

Spoonie Life: My Last Week (fun with complications)

So, I’m having a really rough week. It feels like literally the second I get a break from one thing or a handle on another, then another thing pops up. I never get a break and it is exhausting. And sometimes it just makes you feel so alone because even those that support you - and I have a hugely supportive community of people in my life - just can’t understand. I’ve been feeling increasingly depressed and anxious and alone and my therapist does not have any availability to see me...possibly for months. So I wanted to just write up everything I’m going through because sometimes that helps but also because hopefully some of you may have gone through some similar things (esp. blood clots and ovarian cysts) and could give advice and/or just support. 

Here’s a (not so) short summary of shit that’s been going on lately (in list form because why not). Don’t feel like you have to read it all. I know everyone has their own things going on. But I just needed somewhere to vent and while I shared some of this on FB, I also feel freer to be honest and just fully disclose how hard this is for me here. Sometimes that’s one good thing about this hell site - less reason to self-censor and try to sound positive/hopeful/happy when I really truly am not.

Last Monday (the 15th), I finally finished three months of IV antibiotics I was on for an intra-abdominal abscess (an infected collection of fluid that was right underneath my diaphragm which meant that, for a while, it hurt to even take a breath). 

Good news right? Stopped it about a week ago which is awesome because the antibiotics were infused two hours x three times a day (i.e. six f*cking hours a day that I was connected to an IV bag).

But, I knew I would need a follow-up CT scan that was scheduled for this past Wednesday....and who knew what that would show.

Towards the end of last week, I started feeling very tired all the time. And then my physical stamina just suddenly....decompensated abruptly. I would get tired doing anything. Monotasker and I went to the grocery store and halfway through, I had to sit down (or risk passing out). After a few minutes, I told him “we need to get out of here” so we rushed through the rest of the basics we needed. And then while he checked out, I sat on a bench near-by. My heart was racing, I was out of breath, I was dizzy and light-headed, and just generally felt like I had run a 5K. 

The first couple times this happened I thought “well, maybe I’m out of shape, I *haven’t* been working out at ALL lately. But then I remembered, it was what - a week ago that I attended NYCC where sure, I got tired sometimes and had to sit down once in a while, but it was nothing like this. And I knew that fitness doesn’t decompensate like that....it’s sad that when confronted with such a serious health issue that my first reaction was to just....blame myself. Right away.

So last Sunday (a little over a week ago), I went into the ER to get checked out. I hoped it was something SIMPLE, like dehydration or maybe my anemia had gotten worse or low levels of some kind of electrolyte imbalance. Anything that could be handled in a single evening. Three guesses about whether that was really the problem (though if you’ve followed me for more than a hot minute, I’m sure you know that the right answer is...because of course, NOTHING is ever simple).

At the ER, they decided to do the CT scan I was supposed to have that Wednesday just to make sure there wasn’t anything they were missing. And while the abscess they had been treating was largely unchanged (so they are going to stop the antibiotics), they also found that I had a blood clot in my pelvis. This is my third blood clot but the other two (a DVT in 2008 and a PE in 2015) were both post-surgical. This is my first blood clot that happened “spontaneously”. The admitted me to the hospital for about 48 hours and put me on a heparin drip until they could get a blood thinner arranged to release me and send me home. 

A few observations and factoids about blood clots and their treatment for those who are interested.

People with Crohn’s Disease and Ulcerative Colitis (i.e. IBD) are more prone to blood clots. If you have IBD (or any autoimmune disease actually), you should be aware of this risk and know the signs of blood clots (esp. after surgery) and make sure to take preventative measures like standing up to walk around on long flights.

 Traditionally, blood clots were treated with the blood thinner warfarin (Coumadin is its brand name). It takes a few days to get to the correct level in your blood, so you have to be on injections of another blood thinner Lovenox (twice a day, at home, injected yourself) until your “INR” reaches the right level in your blood. While on warfarin you have to have regular bloodwork to check your INR - every few days at first, then weekly, and if you’re on it long term the tests become less common.

This is very challenging for me - after ALL the health issues I’ve had, my veins are completely shot. Even basic blood work is a challenge.

There is a newer genre of blood thinners out there called DACOs - you’ve probably heard of them (they include Xarelto and Elliquis) which are better for a couple reasons, I guess, but the main one for me is the lack of required blood thinners. Three guesses on whether my health insurance approved them? NOPE. They sent me into pre-authorization hell (which frequently means “nope never going to happen” but in this case I hope means “well if your doctor pushes hard enough, we’ll give in eventually).

Question: has anyone gotten one of the DACOs approved? Is there anything specific that you had to prove? How did it end up working out?

If you are someone who menstruates, just be aware - going on a blood thinner can cause your period to start early (mine started less than two days after starting them - at least a week or two early) AND it will make your period longer and heavier. 

P.S. - the GYN I saw yesterday said that Xarelto would make that even worse which leads into a later part of this post, but basically she said it was really important that I get my IUD replaced if I was going to be on Xarelto long term.

Since this is my third blood clot, it may mean that I will have to be on blood thinners permanently, which I’m not looking forward to AT ALL. Because really, do I need another medical complication? The answer is no. No, I do not. WHICH MAKES THE NEXT PART OF THIS POST IRONIC.

So this is the part of the post that I could actually use some advice on. 

So for a while, maybe as long as a year, every CT or MRI I’ve had has included a note from the radiologist saying that a benign ovarian cyst was seen on the scan (or sometimes it was called an “inclusive cyst” from the ovary into the peritoneal area. It would sometimes “recommend follow up with a GYN”. Okay....fair enough.

When I asked my GI and my PCP about it a long while ago (maybe even two years ago), they both sort of just said “sure you should see an OB-GYN about that at some point” but really didn’t follow-up on it. And then time passed because I had a LOT of other health issues that took precedence.

Sometime nine-months to a year ago, I started having pain in the area where my rectum used to be, especially when I was sitting at my desk at work. There were days it was so bad that I could not sit directly on my butt at all and had to constantly find different positions. And on those days, I would frequently also have pretty severe pain in my pelvis. For months I basically ignored it...again, I have chronic pain and I had bigger fish to fry. Again, it got put on the back burner. Until one day it was so painful I was crying at work. So I called my PCP who also called my GI and he looked at my scan and said “it’s probably that cyst, you should see a GYN....” Still no urgency (and my PCP even said “I don’t know i it’s that - sometimes doctors like to blame cysts when they just don’t know what else is wrong.”) Again and again, this cyst was acknowledged but treated as no big deal - a nuisance to be dealt with eventually.

Side note: at no point in this did my PCP or my GI bother to ask me about pain with sex, despite that being a somewhat obvious question.

So nine months ago (or so), my PCP finally did get me a referral to see someone in the minimally invasive surgical OB-GYN office. I called to make that appointment and was told “you cannot see a surgeon until you’ve seen one of the GYNs” so I got an appointment for several months later with a GYN in the office. 

Then, I had to cancel two different appointments with her because I kept being sick and/or in the hospital...and of course, each new appointment was two-three months later. 

So my appointment with the GYN (who was lovely) was yesterday. She told me that my cyst (which is in both the ovary and the peritoneum) is now the size of a GRAPEFRUIT! It is almost certainly to blame for the pain I get sometimes in my (former) rectal area and the pain I have when I have sex. She said that even if it’s “benign”, if it’s symptomatic like this, I shouldn’t have to live that way. For the first time, I had a doctor who I felt like was taking this issue seriously even though it wasn’t related to my IBD and was “just” a lady issue. (Though to be fair to my PCP, she has taken it seriously in the past, but it’s just not her specialty).

This GYN also said she’d be willing to take me to the procedure room and sedate me to put an IUD in, whether I have surgery or not because I had such a bad experience getting it last time!!! I really loved that she took my concerns about that seriously. Bless her.

So the (very extended) upshot is that I made an appointment with the minimally invasive surgeon who I was supposed to see SIX-NINE months ago (who, amazingly enough, had an appointment available MONDAY) and I may need to have another surgery to take care of this cyst. This cyst that wasn’t always the size of a grapefruit....but years of being told that it was benign, to “check it out” eventually, and having all of my other health needs take precedence has now left me here. With a huge cyst that has ruined my sex life and is starting to seriously impact my everyday life too.

TL;DR? I have TERRIBLE LUCK. ESPECIALLY this week. And I’m just feeling absolutely overwhelmed, lonely, and frustrated. And if you’ve had experience having surgery for an ovarian cyst, especially one that’s “including” on something outside the ovary, I’d really appreciate your thoughts on the procedure and whether it helped and was worth it.

[iffeelscouldkill]

Any day breathing

“Captain Tripathi. You’re alive!”

He presents it as a joke, to mask the very real fear that lies underneath those words. The fear that someday, she won’t come back to him safe and whole.

–

A/N: I wrote another thing :3

To the folks in the Starship Iris Discord: I finished it! This started out as a little ficlet idea that I had a while back: a Sana/Campbell concept based on Campbell’s stock greeting of “Captain Tripathi. You’re alive!” I wrote half of it down (I got sidetracked partway through) and then let it sit in my Starship Iris ideas notes file (god, you do not want to see the length of that thing) for ages.

Then, a conversation in the TSCOSI Discord about Campbell, pining, and Campbell’s probable reaction to the Rumor reports being uploaded to the public net (which I had totally forgotten about asfdfgsgsdgsg) inspired me to pick it back up.

It was meant to be a short, whimsical, feels-filled ficlet about Sana and Campbell’s conversations through the years. It turned into something… much longer than that.

Enjoyyyyy~

–

“Captain Tripathi. You’re alive.”

The first time he says it, the surprise is genuine. It’s hard not to be surprised to hear from this woman again – someone whose name had been only a rumour to him until very recently. He’d heard about her from contacts of contacts, mentioned here and there, always with a reverent tone. She had some kind of revolutionary past, he’d heard: was jailed as a dissenter, or had taken part in an uprising. One version of that story said that she’d led an entire planet in an uprising. He also heard that she’d hijacked a high-level Regime starship – possibly in mid-flight.

Whatever he was expecting when they finally met face-to-face, the slender, wiry woman in the brightly-coloured shalwar kameez with a streak of engine grease near her hairline and elaborate floral tattoos adorning muscular arms is not it. Sana Tripathi walks straight into his base of operations – a network of winding corridors and tucked-away cubbyholes in what’s meant to be a confidential location – flanked by a younger woman with a murderous expression and more visible weapons than he can take in with one glance, and demands two full sets of new identification, impeccable and untraceable, to get the IGR off their tail.

“I heard you were the best,” she tells him, a challenge.

Campbell holds out for a full fifteen minutes, but by the end of it he’s agreed to everything she asks for and feels distinctly like he’s gone ten rounds in the sparring ring they used to blow off steam back in the military, verbally speaking. She agrees to pay half up-front, with the promise of the rest once they safely reach their destination.

It’s an hour-long job, and he doesn’t know where the two of them go to lie low while he’s working, but exactly an hour later the glowering, heavily-armed woman is back to pick up their documentation. He’s a little disappointed that it’s not the Captain who came to collect.

The other woman – who tells him shortly that her name is Patel; the name on the papers he’s made for her is Kay Grisham – pays and leaves. He later hears that the IGR is conducting randomised searches at every checkpoint, detaining anyone whose background doesn’t quite check out neatly enough, or whose personal or ship ID papers look a little too new.

Campbell is completely confident in the quality of his work, but he’s not sure that Tripathi could pass a visual check, if she’s been on an IGR watchlist – and that friend of hers didn’t really seem like the subtle type. After thirty-six hours with no word, he figures the rest of the money is lost, but chalks it up as an interesting story to tell.

Two hours later, he gets a call from an unknown number. After running the standard traces on it (the IGR aren’t as good at disguising themselves as they like to think), he accepts the call.

“Is this Ignatius Campbell?” asks the voice on the other end – brisk, but with the hint of warmth and humour lurking underneath.

“Captain Tripathi,” he says in surprise. “You’re alive.”

“Of course,” the Captain replies blithely. “We delayed our departure slightly in order to catch the shift changeover for the randomised checks. The outgoing agents are always tired and less likely to bother with a full database check, and the incoming agents have never been briefed properly. Then we had to make sure that we weren’t being tailed.”

“Of course,” Campbell echoes. This woman is no amateur, and he realises that he’d managed to underestimate her even after everything that she’d managed by tracking him down, coming to him and persuading him to work with her. He makes a mental note not to do that again.

“So, I assume this call is about payment,” he adds, when Captain Tripathi doesn’t volunteer anything further.

“How very astute of you,” the Captain replies, too good-humoured to be mocking, and then proceeds to brazenly haggle him down a further twenty-five percent.

Campbell doesn’t believe in love at first sight, and he never will. But he does believe that there are people whom, when you meet them, the universe demands you sit up and pay attention to.

–

“Captain Tripathi – you’re alive.”

Even after resolving not to underestimate Sana Tripathi, Campbell is still surprised when he hears from her again. It’s been eight months, and during that time, his best-placed informants hadn’t picked up a single trace of Captain Tripathi or her companion. Not under the names he’d created for them, and not under the names they’d given him when they met.

It’s unheard of for him to be unable to track an alias he’s created (he wouldn’t be able to stay ahead of any potential threats unless he had that advantage), but he knows that the Regime has ways of making people vanish completely. It’s a cold, unpleasant realisation, and he experiences an unusually strong pang of regret considering that he barely knows this woman. But he’s sure that somehow, they must have slipped up and got caught.

So when Captain Tripathi contacts him again like nothing has happened, he realises he might just have to get used to unexpected developments.

He’s somehow not even surprised to hear that since they last spoke, she’s picked up a Dwarnian and some kind of renegade translator who has a history with the mafia. “He’s an academic, so he won’t be seeing any action, but he needs to have papers that will hold up if the ship is inspected while we’re docked,” the Captain explains casually.

“…Naturally,” says Campbell. “And speaking of your ship – I suppose you have a full work-up of papers for that, too? You know they’ve tightened the regs on those a lot recently.”

He tells himself he’s only saying it so that he can squeeze an extra job out of a contact he’s fairly confident will be good for the money. Not because he’s concerned.

“Are you suggesting that my ship’s paperwork is less than completely impeccable?” Captain Tripathi asks him with mock indignation.

Campbell suppresses a smile as he replies, “Given that it was made by someone other than myself, I’m surprised it’s held up this long.”

Their conversation concludes with him agreeing to redo the ship’s paperwork – somehow at a much lower price than he would usually charge for a second-time client.

–

“Captain Tripathi. You’re alive!”

It’s already become a joke between them by this point, the fact that Campbell answers Sana’s calls this way, and he waits in anticipation of the sarcastic response that he knows will follow. They’ve been in relatively regular contact since Campbell started playing middleman for some of their cargo, using his network of contacts to move it on and taking a cut. He’s stopped bothering to deny to himself how much he looks forward to their conversations.

But this time, the voice that comes down the line is not Sana Tripathi’s, but Arkady Patel’s. “It’s First Mate Patel, actually,” she says brusquely, and Campbell sits up slowly. “I know you guys traditionally open with like, twenty minutes of banter, but we don’t have time for that right now. We’re in a bind.”

Campbell has a cast-iron policy of not offering any favours, offering help to contacts, or otherwise sticking his neck out any further than he needs to. He keeps his relationships strictly about business and nothing more. Much like his ability to track an alias, it’s what’s kept him off the IGR’s radar for so long.

There are one or two folks whom he goes way back with – like Theodore “Red” Gregor, who was in his unit and a fellow dishonourable discharge. Campbell helped him set up his business on Elion. There aren’t many who could manage to stay in business while avoiding both the mob and the Regime, but if anyone could, it was Red.

But they’re rare exceptions to a very strict rule. Anyone else is on their own, or had better be prepared to owe him for a long, long time.

Campbell thinks about all this before he says, “What do you need?”

–

Campbell is ashamed of how long it takes him to realise that Sana is a fellow Telemachian. He’s usually good at identifying fellow homeworlders, even ones who have lived elsewhere. Telemachians have this spark, this spirit, a distinctive culture that even the Regime couldn’t stamp out of them.

They’re diverse, sure, and numerous, but you can always spot a fellow Telemachian if you know what to look for. They’re the unruly planet on the edge of a solar system, a little too far away from any established IGR base to monitor closely; a little too big to be brought to heel. There’s a reason that most protest songs originate from Telemachus – and that there’s been periodic unrest every few years since the coup.

They’re making small talk at the end of a call (something Campbell indulges in far more than he should), and Campbell is talking about evading the IGR’s latest clampdown and how hard it’s becoming to operate underground. “It’s enough to make me want to give it all up and become a vegetable farmer somewhere.”

“Wouldn’t you get bored?” Sana asks, playfully but with a hint of curiosity lurking underneath.

“Yeah. Probably.” Campbell’s not sure. Maybe if he had the company of the right person, it wouldn’t be so bad. “Just, all this running in place… it feels so futile.” It comes out sounding more tired than he means it to.

“Well, you know what they say,” says Sana, seriously. “When their foot is on your throat-”

“-any day breathing is a victory,” Campbell finishes. “I didn’t know you were a homeworlder.”

There’s a pause, and he thinks that Sana is weighing up what to say next. She hadn’t meant to give so much away, he realises – for all that he’s got to know a fair bit about the smuggling business that she runs, and the odd detail about life on board the Rumor, Sana is very cautious about revealing anything about her own past, or that of her crew, beyond what is strictly required to do business. Campbell has never minded that – he can respect a person’s boundaries. He doesn’t need to pry into Sana’s past to be sure that she won’t screw him over.

“I’ve moved around a bit,” she says, finally. “I spent a few years off-planet in the late 70s. Since then I’ve been… transient. Well, you knew that.”

Campbell inclines his head, though he knows that Sana can’t see it. He’s still considering what to say when she carries on,

“I don’t go back to the homeworld much these days. Actually, when we first approached you to work with us-” Campbell gives a wry smile at how much of an understatement that is, “-it was the first time that I’d been back to Telemachus in years.”

“It’s still home, though, isn’t it?” he says, thinking of the time that he’d spent in deployment; the years that he was on the run, unable to get word to his sister or his nephews. “After everything.”

“Yeah, it is.”

–

Campbell doesn’t really think twice the first time he invites the crew of the Rumor to have dinner with him.

It’s late in the evening, and the crew has just touched down on Telemachus a full twelve hours later than they’d originally planned. First there’d been some unprecedented solar flare activity en route, forcing them to take a detour, and then they’d been boarded by Regime agents in a “random” check on entry to Telemachus. Krejjh had been quickly hidden away in one of the ship’s many nooks and crannies, and the paperwork had all checked out (of course), but the agents had been both suspicious and thorough. All in all, the crew is obviously exhausted and a little fractious by the time Campbell meets them to pick up the cargo. Sana is doing her best to keep things businesslike, but she wilts visibly and rubs her hand over her eyes when she thinks he isn’t looking.

“Hey. Listen, we can go over all this tomorrow,” Campbell says, as gently as he can. “You guys’ve had a rough journey – what d’you say we grab a bite to eat instead?”

Arkady’s frown deepens, of course – it’s her job to be suspicious, and Campbell doesn’t take it personally. More to the point, he knows that it’s just her way of trying to look out for the crew. Arkady Patel is a lot more caring than she tries to let on. She might show it with jibes in the background of calls, or with threats and occasional bodily harm in the direction of anyone who threatens her friends’ safety, but she shows it.

For her part, Sana looks extremely relieved at the idea of being able to put business off until the morning.

“That’s really kind of you, Campbell,” she says. “It’d be great to take a bit of a breather, but we don’t want to impose…”

“It’s no imposition,” says Campbell, shrugging. “I was planning to go out to eat tonight anyway – I’ve been cooped up indoors too much lately. There’s a great hole-in-the-wall two blocks away from here – it doesn’t look like much, but the food is something else. Krejjh can come, too – they get all kinds in there.”

Sana tells him they’ll consult Brian and Krejjh before coming to a decision, but Campbell has a feeling that the answer will be yes, despite Arkady’s clear misgivings. Sure enough, Sana is back minutes later with a mild-mannered translator and an excitable Dwarnian (disguised with a large pair of novelty sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat) in tow.

Over the months – almost a year, now – that Campbell has been doing business with the Rumor crew, he has a sense of how they work together as a group: Krejjh piloting the ship and executing daring last-minute escapes; Brian joking and mediating and cooking slightly disastrous food; Arkady watching Sana’s back and intimidating obstacles into submission; and Sana alternately leading and mothering, driving ruthless bargains for the benefit of her crew.

But it doesn’t compare to the experience of eating at the same table, drinking the Rumor’s lethal home-brewed moonshine, listening to outrageous tales and laughing until his sides hurt.

The next day, Campbell is unsurprised when he doesn’t hear a word from the Rumor crew until nearly two o’clock in the afternoon. He himself only crawled out of bed at noon, and has since been avoiding light sources and slowly regaining his humanity over strong black coffee.

“Incoming call from Sana Tripathi.”

“Captain Tripathi,” Campbell says as he answers his comm. “You’re alive?”

“The jury’s definitely still out on that one,” Sana replies, her voice low and rough. Campbell chuckles, and then hopes the sound wasn’t too loud. “We’re at various stages of recuperation, but at a minimum, Arkady and I will be able to meet you with the cargo at our rendezvous point by three.”

“Make it four,” Campbell says, in deference to how utterly wrung-out she sounds. To cover this up, he adds, “I only joined the land of the living about half an hour ago myself. I’m going to need at least three more cups of coffee before I’m functional.”

“Four it is,” says Sana, businesslike, but with a clear undertone of relief. “We’ll see you there.”

“See you both soon. And, Sana –”

Campbell stops, wondering if he’s overstepping. Last night had been so easy, so fun – by the end of it, the Rumor crew felt like old friends. But it’s harder to recapture that feeling in the light of day, sober. What can he say – ‘Thanks for a great night’? ‘We should do this again sometime’?

(‘You have a beautiful laugh’?)

He clears his throat. “Don’t let Brian forget about that drink he owes me. And uh, you and the rest of the crew are always welcome to make a stop. To refuel, or…” He clears his throat again. “Or for whatever reason.”

“Thanks, Campbell,” says Sana, warm and genuine. “We’ll see you soon.”

–

Things start to get a lot tougher over the months that follow – on Telemachus and on every other planet that Campbell has contacts. Forgers and traders he’s worked with for years go silent, or are rarely heard from; he gets wind of abrupt crackdowns, the Regime imprisoning people who show the slightest bit of dissent, petty criminals being sent down with lengthy sentences.

Telemachus starts to stir. He hears murmurs on the streets. A leaflet is shoved into his hand by a hooded young person who is gone before he can blink. Campbell skims enough of it to know that he would probably be arrested if he were found with it on his person. He burns it, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before the protests start.

On his next call with the Captain to arrange a routine cargo drop-off, he can’t stop himself from urging her to be careful. Sounding amused, she promises him that she will.

“Are we still on for drinks at that bar you promised to take us to?”

“I don’t know what their house policy is on home-brewed moonshine,” Campbell warns her. “But of course we are.”

“Great. We’ll see you in a week, Campbell. Sana Tripathi out.”

He’s not expecting to get another call from her just three days later. Campbell is tense as he accepts the call, sure that something must be wrong.

“Captain Tripathi.” He hesitates over the second half of the greeting, and Sana speaks before he can say anything else.

“Campbell, hi.” She sounds well, but Campbell doesn’t relax, sensing bad news in her tone. “Listen, there’s no good way to say this, but… we’re going to have to miss our drop-off.”

“Oh.” Of all the things that Campbell might have thought were coming next, that wasn’t one of them. He knows he should be angry over being left in the lurch by a business partner, about how badly this will put him out, but instead he’s just… disappointed. And concerned. “What’s happening?”

“It’s – hard to go into too much detail right now, but… we’ve got to make an unexpected stop. Something’s come up, and… there’s no way we’re going to be in range of Telemachus for a while. I’m sorry.”

So, not just missing a drop-off, but possibly not making any stops for some time. Campbell is silent for a few moments, absorbing this.

“I know this will put you out in a major way, and I promise that we’ll make it up to you,” Sana says. “You’re our best customer, and we would never bail on you unless it was urgent.”

That’s what concerns me, Campbell thinks. “I… understand,” he says finally. “I’m not going to pretend I like it, but sometimes, that’s just how things are. I can find another supplier for the Scotch. They won’t be you, but…”

“Sorry, again, Campbell. We were… really looking forward to seeing you. Listen, we’ll give you half price on your next shipment. As an apology.”

Somehow, bartering isn’t as fun when Sana is just offering him a lower price – and when she’s doing it as an apology. “We’ll work something out,” he says. “I know you’ve got to keep Krejjh in hot sauce and Arkady in those elaborate hair products she denies using.”

Sana laughs. “Yeah, we might have to ration the hot sauce for a bit, but we’ll survive.” There’s a pause, and then she adds, “I’ll call as soon as I’m able. Let you know when we might be in the area again.”

“Do that. Good luck with… whatever it is that you have to do.”

“Thanks.” For a moment, Sana seems like she’s about to say something else, but then she closes with, “Speak to you soon. Sana Tripathi out.”

–

Campbell doesn’t hear from the Rumor crew for another three weeks after Sana’s call. All told, it’s been nearly four months since they last stopped by on Telemachus. Once upon a time, he would go much longer without seeing or hearing from the crew and not even think about it. But he’s got used to more regular contact – drop-offs every couple of months, and regular calls, sometimes not even about business. He enjoys finding out what the group has been up to, listening to the way that they joke together, the way Sana alternately cajoles and corrals them. How fond she sounds when talking to her crew, her found family.

He’s sure, sometimes, that he hears the same fondness in her voice directed at him. She’s never hesitated to match his banter, and he looks forward to the calls where they haggle over prices, exchanging insults that sound more affectionate than anything. Campbell would hate to cross a line too soon – he doesn’t want to ruin what is also a great business relationship and friendship. But on his calls with Sana, his catch-ups with the crew, their now-regular drinking escapades with ill-advised amounts of moonshine and ridiculous stories… he’s sure that there’s something more there.

He finds himself thinking about Sana at odd moments during the day: dwelling on her voice, her laugh; picturing her smile, her arms, her tattoos. He hopes that she’s safe, that whatever mystery errand took her away from Telemachus wasn’t dangerous. More than once, he’s tempted to put a call through and make sure she’s okay, but he stops himself. Sana said she would call as soon as she was able, and she’s always been a woman of her word.

He brightens when, in the middle of a slow evening, his terminal lights up and his computer intones, “Incoming call from… Sana Tripathi. Incoming call from…”

“Captain Tripathi,” he greets her cheerfully. “You’re alive!”

–

Then, Elion. A body turns up by the landfill. Sana’s accusation.

“In what universe would I turn on you for them?!”

Then they don’t speak for some time.

–

There’s a massive protest happening in the centre of Nestor, the district of Telemachus where Campbell is based. It’s loud enough and vehement enough that Campbell can hear it, just faintly, from where he sits in his cramped office, distractedly going through some accounts.

Normally, the Regime would have deployed riot police by now, violently suppressing the protest and arresting the instigators. But in contrast to how jumpy the IGR had been before, the machinery of the Regime has been oddly absent in recent weeks. As if all its resources are being focused elsewhere. This is the third protest in about ten days – and the largest. He also heard that there’s been some kind of major incident at a Regime lab in New Jupiter – a fire or an explosion or something. He’s willing to bet that it’s just the tip of the iceberg. Something big is going down.

Giving the accounts up as a bad job for now, Campbell dismisses the holographic screen with a wave of his hand and stands up. He needs some air.

Once he’s out of the house, it’s almost impossible to avoid the protest – it seems to be everywhere. Out of sheer morbid curiosity, Campbell walks towards the crowds, his coat collar turned up to obscure the bottom half of his face. Soon he’s close enough to hear some of what they’re shouting.

“THE RUMOR CREW DID NOTHING WRONG!” yells a man nearby, and Campbell’s heart almost stops. “JUSTICE FOR THASIA!” 

“JUSTICE FOR EMILY CRADDOCK!” another voice yells back.

Someone stuffs a leaflet into Campbell’s hand. He looks down at it. It’s a cheap, quickly-printed thing, just black text on off-white paper, and it reads:

WE THE PEOPLE DEMAND A FULL AND TRANSPARENT STATEMENT FROM THE INTERGALACTIC REPUBLIC ABOUT THE DISCLOSURES IN THE RUMOR RECORDINGS OF THE WIDESPREAD USE OF SPY TECHNOLOGY IN PEACETIME ASSASSINATION, ABDUCTION, AND THE INSTIGATION OF AN INTER-SPECIES WAR THE RUMOR CREW DID NOTHING WRONG!

Campbell roughly grabs the shoulder of the man who was shouting nearby. “What are these Rumor recordings?” he demands, brandishing the leaflet.

The man looks alarmed, and Campbell forces his posture to become a bit less “military”. “I’m not one of them,” he says, quickly. “I just want to know what’s happening.”

“They’re all over the public net, man,” says the protestor. The ‘where the hell have you been?’ is strongly implied.

“You should start by listening to Report 1: Violet Liu,” another protestor supplies helpfully.

“Thank you,” says Campbell, and lets go of the man’s shoulder. The man shrugs and rejoins the crowd, chanting,

“JUSTICE FOR ALVY CONNORS! JUSTICE FOR THE CREW OF THE STARSHIP IRIS! YOU CAN’T MAKE A PERSON DISAPPEAR!”

Back at home, Campbell discovers the man was right: the files are all over the net. The IGR is clearly penalising anyone who shares them, and trying to shut down the websites hosting them – his search turns up a lot of dead links and mysteriously deactivated accounts. But there are far too many sources to eradicate them all, short of completely shutting down the public net. Before too long, Campbell has a complete set of the recordings, Reports 1 to 9.

He starts to listen.

The report starts, after the introduction from someone who is clearly an IGR drone, with the panicked voice of a woman who sounds vaguely familiar. Campbell has a good memory for both faces and voices, and he’s sure this woman is the new recruit he’d heard briefly on the call with Sana before the Rumor landed on Elion. It might explain her link to the Rumor crew.

Sure enough, a few minutes later he hears Arkady, using the Kay Grisham alias that he’d made for her, years ago. He recognises the con she’s pulling, a trick that Brian Jeeter grandly refers to as “the Carmen Gambit”. He wonders what was so important about this woman that the Rumor crew went so far out of their way to rescue her. He looks for a timestamp on the recording, but it only shows when the file was uploaded to the public net, which was a few days ago. But Campbell has a feeling this was the reason that the Rumor crew skipped their drop-off in Telemachus.

He wishes that Sana had told him what they were doing. God knows he wouldn’t have been angry about them going to save a person’s life. He wasn’t really angry about it to begin with.

Campbell keeps listening, and learns the real reason for the Rumor crew’s detour: a cryptic message from a friend he thinks Brian might have mentioned once – Alvy Connors, a gifted coder moonlighting as a bartender. Campbell’s sorry to learn about his death. He realises that the protesters had been chanting Alvy’s name – but why would they care so much about this man’s death? Where did these recordings come from?

Two more reports in, and Campbell is starting to put the pieces together to form a horrible picture: how the Regime had known that the Rumor was headed towards Elion. How the crew’s IDs had become compromised. They were listening to every word, he realises. But how?

Sana and Arkady discuss trading with the Fowleys – a particularly low breed of scum that Campbell avoids dealing with if at all possible, but he knows the Rumor crew can’t afford to be that picky – on Elion, and Campbell realises that he must be about to make an appearance in the recordings.

Sure enough, as the group realises that they need new IDs, Sana makes the call. It’s surreal to hear his own voice coming from the computer, and Campbell realises he needs to be very careful from now on. Whatever event caused all these files to be leaked onto the public net, he’s now clearly implicated in it, too. At least the Regime don’t have a visual description, but they have his voice and his location, as well as some details about his contacts. He’ll need to warn Red Gregor.

The exchange between Arkady and Sana in the elevator on Elion makes him cringe. “Did it seem like he was hitting on you?” Ridiculously, he finds himself hoping that Sana will give some indication of how she might feel about that, but instead she expertly turns the conversation around on Arkady. “If we wanna open that door, can I just say that you and—”

“No, that door is shut and locked.”

Campbell thinks about how Arkady talks to Violet Liu, her upbeat mood in response to the other woman’s admiration, and smiles.

Things go downhill quickly after that. Campbell is tense as he listens to the exchange with the guard, the Carmen Gambit once again coming into play. It almost works – until the fatal announcement over the comms that blows the crew’s cover. Campbell reflects that the Regime’s ridiculous, stifling bureaucracy was probably the only thing that kept them from getting caught sooner.

He cringes again as he hears his own call come through, and Sana immediately decline it. He’d been a bit over-eager, calling as soon as he’d got Red Gregor’s message to say that the job had gone off without a hitch – he was really just looking for an excuse to talk to Sana. Clearly, Campbell needs to get a grip.

The recording ends, and Campbell looks at his holo-screen, thinking about what the next recording will surely contain.

“Computer, outside call. Ignatius Campbell to Sana Tripathi.”

“Attempting connection…” the computer intones. “Attempting connection… Attempting connection… Attempting connection… Connection not available.”

He guesses he can’t blame Sana for declining his calls, after everything that he’d said to her before.

Reluctantly, he plays the next recording.

He listens to Violet’s attempts to speak to Arkady, Brian’s theories about the robot nanoswarm, and then Violet and Arkady’s conversation in the kitchen and Arkady’s gift of her mint plant. Campbell feels slightly indignant about the fact that Arkady never let on she was a fellow gardener. They could have exchanged tips!

Finally, he hears Sana accept his call in her room, and the friendly conversation quickly devolve into a tense exchange. He’s replayed that conversation endless times in his head, but it somehow sounds even worse than he remembers. Campbell wasn’t angry at Sana – he wishes he could have explained that somehow. But with everything that had happened, she was in no position to give him the benefit of the doubt. He wishes he could go back in time and…

He doesn’t know.

Then, something unexpected. Another call comes through to Sana’s comm, and she accepts it without waiting to hear the name – but Campbell knows that wasn’t him.

“Campbell, I agree it’s a bad idea for us to talk right now, but I just wanna say that if it was only me, I would probably risk it. The thing is, I can’t, I have to think about my crew, and you—”

Campbell’s heart stutters in his chest. “Computer, outside call,” he says, not bothering to pause the recording. “Ignatius Campbell to Sana Tripathi.”

“Attempting connection… Attempting connection… Attempting connection… Attempting connection… Connection not available.”

Campbell sighs and runs a hand over his face. He’s finally starting to get the picture, and he’s desperate to talk to Sana, to tell her that he understands now. He thinks about the way she’d spoken to ‘him’, the vulnerability in her voice. Damn it, he needs to talk to her. He has to make this right.

A man is speaking on the recording now, and Sana responds to him with anger. Campbell realises that he still has three reports left to go. He’s still far from understanding what has happened and where these recordings came from. The least that he can do is take the time to listen to them and understand what Sana has been going through.

He’s afraid of what the other reports might contain. But he would have known if Sana was hurt or worse – wouldn’t he? Surely Sana would still have come to him for help if she really needed it?

Nothing could have prepared him for the contents of the last three reports: the stunning revelations about Thasia, about why the war began; about the Regime’s use of a sentient swarm of nanobots to spy on dozens of its own people, indiscriminately, in every waking moment. His fists clench, hard enough that his nails dig into the palms of his hands, as he listens to Major General Frederick’s cold declaration that future strains of the nanoswarm will include a ‘kill-switch’. He listens to the sad story of Thasia and their doomed childhood friend, Emily Craddock. He understands now why the crowd had been chanting their names.

The crew’s hours of drunken singalongs and fake ‘confessions’ make him smile, but the smile is quickly wiped from his face as he hears the passage of time at the end of the report. “Two weeks have passed since our last update. As Major General Frederick said, we expect diminishing returns via this swarm of strain H.”

Then, the last few seconds. “Agent McCabe, look out the window!”

“Holy shit—”

Campbell can’t believe the recordings end there. He goes back to the site where he’d downloaded the files, to make sure he hadn’t missed one – but the website has already been taken offline. He scours discussion boards for any scrap of information. All of the commentators agree that there are only nine reports, but they have theories about what might have happened next – linked to the explosion (it definitely was an explosion) on New Jupiter. Odds are, it was the Rumor’s destination. But what happened?

He thinks about the words of the other Violet Liu. “If Plan B fails, not all of you will live long enough for Plan C.” He thinks about Violet coughing, Krejjh coughing, an inexorably deadly swarm of nanobots in the air. The Rumor crew taking one last, defiant, heroic stand because none of them could stand the alternative: to save their own lives at the expense of so many others.

“We have a saying on Telemachus, that when their foot is on your throat, any day breathing is a victory. So, I vote we push our luck.”

Campbell’s breathing is unsteady, and his throat feels tight and painful. He tries to fight down the rising panic in his chest, the voice in his head that fears the worst. Sana is alive. She has to be. He rubs at one eye with the heel of his hand, and it comes away wet.

“Computer,” he chokes out. “Outside call. Ignatius Campbell – to – Sana Tripathi.”

“Attempting connection… Attempting connection… Attempting connection… Attempting connection…”

“Campbell?”

Campbell is so stunned that for several long moments he stares at his computer, at the holo-screen displaying a successful connection, counting up the seconds on their call. “Campbell?” Sana says again. “Is that you?”

“Captain Tripathi,” he manages finally. “You’re…”

“Alive,” finishes Sana, with a smile in her voice.

[purge-that-urge-rhackathon]

I was curious what your level of engagement was on your fanfics. maybe on your biggest one? Like the % of subscribers who comment. I’m curious and was hoping others would contribute too! Peace

I’m always down with this shit! :D hahaha i am an information hoarder and i actually do keep track chapter-by-chapter of the hits/kudos/comments ratios and how they change with further chapter releases to better understand the best way to engage :)

So this information would have to be taken with a grain of salt as you also have to take into account the time when things were released. I had a very great advantage at the time, because Tales hadn’t even been completely released yet (all the arcs or whatever its called) so we had new information all the time and there just wasn’t the sheer amount of content to choose from, meaning there was a WHOLE lot of demand and very little supply, so I struck while the iron was hot hahaha and that will definitely influence the numbers here.

So in knowing that, the ‘biggest’ fic in terms of all categories except comment threads would be I Never Agreed to This.

I Never Agreed to This was 106,488 words, 20 chapters, and I wrote it over the period of about a year and a half (Nov. 2015 - Jan. 2017… pretty fresh in fandom at the time). These are the current numbers on that fic.

Subscriptions: 491

Hits: 56,254

Kudos: 2,864

Comment threads (individual comments i.e. not including any of my own responses): 548

Bookmarks: 667 (

I’d like to actually go by the bigger number here (using the bookmarks number instead of subscriptions, as each one represents a person who has accessed and enjoyed the fic, and gives us more an idea of actual unique individuals accessing my work).

Now in a perfect world, if every single person left a comment, then completed at 20 chapters, I should have 13, 340 comments (20 x 667).

So a 100% engagement level would be 13,340 comments

25% engagement level would be 3,335 comments

5% engagement level would be 667 comments (COINCIDENCE!)

I currently have a 4% engagement level for that fic, though also it has been completed over 2yrs now and comment interaction nosedives when something isn’t ‘fresh’ anymore.

So I averaged 27 comments per chapter going by chapter count (which isn’t actually true looking at individual chapters BUT ANYWAYS). That number is also wildly inaccurate as I definitely don’t average that, and some chapters get WAY more comments than others, as we all know). A lot of the comments on successive chapters are often by the same lovely lovely people.

Going by engagement based on comments, it’s pretty damn poor. There’s lots of ways to interpret the data of course, and these are just the basic basics, but yeah this is why fanfic writers tend to bitch AHAHAH

But don’t get me wrong i LOVE every single comment I’ve had and that’s still a huge number overall :D And like I don’t think fandom really understands how important that multi-commenter can be to the writer. Those comments I’ve had aren’t all from different individuals; many are from the same folks cheerleading me all the way to the finish line and like they CARRIED the story let me tell you right now.

More engagement would be awesome and I’m very curious to see how it would effect current fandom. That fic is rather old tho and has also had time to accumulate what it does (it’s been 4 years since I started it and over 2 since it was finished, and a good hundred comments have probably been left since it wasnt as fresh, so I feel that’s kind of outdated numbers too).

^sex sells and that’s a fact LOLOL

I feel like maybe a more accurate check of current fandom engagement would be to look at All Sales Final instead (more recent work, tho not my ‘biggest’ in terms of popularity or whatever you wanna grade it at, but definitely not in the initial wild phase after Tales was released).

Since that fic is still in progress and thus any measurement of engagement is current as of right now since we’re in the middle of things, let’s look at those numbers :)

All Sales Final (152,846 words; 22 chapters; Sept. 2017 - present cuz tired and slow)

Subscriptions: 470

Hits: 18,549

Kudos: 1,529

Comment Threads (not including my own): 586

Bookmarks: 317

470 folks currently subscribed to it, 586 individual comments. We’re doin better!! At 22 chapters, that is 26.6 comments per chapters (again, usually by the same very lovely people supporting me, and also some newer hits as well :D THANK YOU!).

A current 100% engagement level would be 10,340 comments

25% engagement level would be 2585 comments.

5% engagement level would be 517 comments

I’m at about a 5.7% engagement level with 586 comments, so hey, it’s better than before! Also of course I am very very active about promoting and other stuff :) So that’s neat!

I know on the less popular, short stuff, I get a pretty regular 10% engagement level right off the bat. That does go down though as time goes on. That’s why I bitch so much about people not commenting on fic after about 2 weeks that it’s been done and out. Folks tend to think there’s an expiration date on when the writer would like to hear that they enjoyed their work, which is bogus as hell i LOVE getting comments on my old work! I maybe can’t reply as often as I’d like but then I am using that time to turn out sheer quantity so I think that’s excused! HAHAHA

I’m fully aware that engagement levels tank after a fic has ‘expired’ so to speak, so I tend to be working round the clock on new stuff because i fucking LOVE comments I am addicted to them xD But yeah, for being around as long as I have the numbers ain’t lookin good! xDDDD (also sorry if this is SUPER rambly or unclear anywhere, my dumb ass is still recovering from alcohol poisoning a day before yesterday LOLOL x_x).

[tjkiahgb]

Episode Recap: 3.03, “It's a Dilemna”

First of all, love the title for this episode. It reminds me of the classic 2011 Vince Vaughn/Kevin James dramedy, The Dilemma, which always reminds me of this tweet:

So prepare yourself for this episode, in which one of the characters might find themselves presented with “a situation in which a difficult choice has to be made between two or more alternatives, especially equally undesirable ones.” Ooh. The possibilities are almost literally endless.

The episode starts with Bex and Andi playing off-brand scrabble.

I’m gonna guess... Word Trains? There’s clearly a heavy train influence here.

Bex takes a long time to play her word, but eventually settles on “dilemna” [sic]. Is this foreshadowing? Do you think Bex and/or Andi might have to make a difficult choice between two or more alternatives? And could it involve a jet?

Also, I can’t believe Bex went for dilemna when DEMJETIPRIZE was still on the table! That’s like a 200 point word!

Andi rips into Bex for spelling things wrong, but then Andi says superfluous as super-flew-us and everyone’s back on an even level.

If there’s one thing to learn from this whole ordeal, it’s simply this:

Words are stupid.

The next day, the GHC walks through school planning out their weekend. Andi says the Color Factory is in town, but I’m sorry, the only factory I’m interested in is of the cheesecake variety.

Anyway, the Color Factory is a bunch of colorful rooms that, as Buffy puts it, is “one those places that’s just for posting pictures on social media to make people feel left out.”

As Buffy’s describing that, I’m nodding my head like, Yeah, that’s so stupid. What kind of jerks would post dumb pictures like that to social media just to--

Never mind.

Anyway, Buffy and Cyrus are in.

Quick question: why does this girl assault Cyrus?

And why does Cyrus not do anything about it? Is his self-esteem so low he just lets people run into him and doesn’t even bother to say something? The poor child.

Buffy says you know who else might enjoy an artsy, interactive, colorful experience thing? Walker. And Andi’s like:

There’s definitely an unseen eye twitch going on here.

Andi slowly turns around and she and Buffy live in this long, awkward silence that gets mercifully ended by the school bell after a few seconds. They decide to talk about it later and scramble away.

Over at Cloud 10, Bex and Celia sort supplies in an empty salon.

I’m already starting to get worried about the business, you guys.

Celia asks Bex if she wants to go shopping on her lunch break. Bex sniffs out something suspicious, and Celia admits she wants to start a registry for Bex’s wedding. Bex doesn’t want to do that, though. Celia asks what Bowie thinks, but Bex says they really haven’t discussed the wedding, they’ve been too busy talking about bread. Celia loses all interest in shopping and goes back to her supplies.

Over at Red Rooster, Jonah strums a guitar when a dad and son come in. They are wildly over-impressed by Jonah’s guitar strumming.

Boy, wait till you guys hear actual music. You’re gonna flip.

Bowie comes to talk to the enthusiastic fans. Turns out, young Shaun (the boy) is turning nine, and his father, Victor (the man), would like to buy him his first guitar. Victor asks Bowie to teach his son, but Bowie’s like, eh, I’m not so much a guitar teacher.

But then Jonah’s like, yeah he is! He made me a music genius in two lessons! And he’s a rockstar! He traveled the world with the Renaissance Boys! You know the Renaissance Boys, don’t you? Bowie and... Rafe. And... Greg? And the cute one?

Bowie tries to play it all down, but it doesn’t seem to be working on Victor.

Victor says Shaun has a gift and he needs the right teacher, so Bowie accepts.

At The Spoon, Cyrus tells Andi he’s failing P.E., which seems almost impossible to me. All I had to do in school to pass P.E. was show up? Just like, stand around and keep breathing? There was a kid in my school who was in an iron lung and they got a B+. One student spent every period trying to attack the P.E. teacher with a big stick and didn’t fail the class. A boy in my school passed away in the 7th grade and still got a C in 8th grade P.E. because my P.E. teacher was convinced the gym was haunted by his spirit.

Anyway, Cyrus tries to figure out how to deal with this situation. Then he asks Andi how she’s going to deal with hers: Buffy and Walker. Andi wants to know if it really needs to be discussed. I mean, she said she was fine with it, sure, but then she was also quiet, so...

Cyrus says what Andi could do is, stay with me here, speak to Buffy. I feel like he’s tried giving this advice to Andi before, regarding Jonah. I forget if it worked that time. Probably. This time, though, Andi determines the best course of action is to not bring it up and hope Buffy doesn’t either.

Buffy arrives and immediately brings it up. You know what they say about the worst-laid plans...

Andi and Buffy decide to get it all out there. Andi feels weird around Walker and doesn’t want him to come to the Color Factory. Buffy understands and says she won’t invite him. Everything seems good.

Cyrus pulls out a chip he thinks looks like Obama.

Wow. Way to take care of a valuable piece of art. You wouldn’t just stuff a Van Gogh in a ziploc and hope for the best.

Bex comes by to see Celia and asks why she got a “Save the Date” for her wedding. Celia says it’s ok, because actually the I Ching chose the date. Bex reminds her she’s said over and over that she doesn’t want a big fancy wedding and Celia’s like, if I don’t do something, you’ll all be wearing shorts at the wedding like animals! Bex and Celia are sort of at an impasse here after it felt like they we’re doing so well in their fight together against Aunt Mei.

Cyrus talks with his P.E. teacher, looking for an out. He says he’s running a 17 minute mile. 17 minutes?! I had a kid in my P.E. class that did a 15 minute mile in an iron lung! Half my 8th grade class were in iron lungs, ok? I went to a weird middle school.

His P.E. teacher suggests taking a P.E. alternative, which leads to Cyrus joining the cast of Fame.

Is it just me or are the dancers performing a number based on a public domain version of the Rocky theme?

Also, aren’t we just barely into the school year? How are all the rest of these kids so good already?

Cyrus is exhausted and realizes he’s made a huge mistake. Not sure why he thought dancing wasn’t also a lot of cardio. Probably because he has a broken teenage brain.

At Red Rooster, Bowie tries to teach Shaun the guitar. He’s not very good. It appears that Bowie attempts to teach him for maybe an hour or so, realizes he isn’t the reincarnation of Jimi Hendrix, and then dies inside.

I mean, the kid is only nine. I’d assume there’s lots of room for improvement. Tons of room. But I’m not a member of the famed Renaissance Boys. (And if I was, I’d be the cute one. Believe it.)

Andi gets ready to head out to the Color Factory and walks right into Walker, who says they need to talk-er. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.

Walker wants to know why if Andi said she was cool with them just being friends, then what’s the deal with her being all weird around him. Andi’s upset Buffy told Walker that, but Walker says Buffy needed to explain why he couldn’t be around her.

Walker wants to know if there’s anything they could do to fix this whole mess and Andi’s like, mangle your face so you’re gross to me. No, she doesn’t know if there’s anything to do, but she does know Walker should go to the Color Factory. Walker thanks her for being cool, which is... a generous reading of the situation. Andi admits as much.

At the Color Factory, Cyrus remains in pain from doing just a very light amount of uncoordinated dancing.

Cyrus says he can’t go back to regular P.E. until next semester, so strap in, folks: we’re going to be seeing some more dancing this year.

Walker shows up. Buffy is surprised to see him, but Walker explains everything was worked out and he has Andi’s permission to enjoy the Color Factory with the others.

And enjoy the Color Factory they do. They’re laughing and posting pictures to social media.

In fact, you may say they’re having the time of their lives.

God, I hope Andi can’t hear that music or read the closed captioning.

Buffy texts Andi asking where she is and why she didn’t come but Andi has a tough time answering.

Bex and Bowie prepare food. Bowie thinks it’s nice Celia is obsessing over their wedding. Bex thinks they should be the ones to plan the date of their wedding, and Bowie asks her when that should be, and Bex doesn’t actually know, and neither does Bowie, so Bowie suggests maybe they should just trust the I Ching.

Bowie says if neither of them really cares, give this to Celia. Pick your battles, which is a smart tactical move in both warfare and in dealing with overbearing mothers. Bowie’s reasonability (reasonableness? Words are stupid.) wins Bex over.

Also, Bowie spent the whole scene just absentmindedly chopping up hot dogs.

It’s not really important, but I kept watching him do it the whole time, wondering what those chopped up hot dogs were for. But that’s my problem, not yours.

Anyway, the two parents realize Andi’s been quiet, so they go to check on her.

Andi’s not feeling ok. She explains that her friends are having fun without her, and that Buffy would rather be with Walker than with her. Bex is like, wow, would Buffy really say that? And Andi’s like, she didn’t have to, I know it’s true because Buffy told Walker he couldn’t hang out with her because she wanted to spend time with Andi and it made Andi uncomfortable. And Bex asks Andi if Andi told Buffy not to tell Walker that, and Andi feels she shouldn’t have had to. And Andi says she texted Buffy that something came up, and that’s why she couldn’t go to the Color Factory, but Buffy never asked her what that something was. Further proof of malice. Followed by the gravest insult of all:

WHY NOT JUST THROW DIRT IN MY FACE, BUFFY?!

Andi says to top it all off, her friends posted all sorts of fun stuff on social media, knowing full well she has access to the internet. I guess it’s sort of interesting she’s giving Cyrus and Jonah a pass here, but whatever.

Bex and Bowie try to cheer Andi up, but she’s in an emotional hole right now.

Andi is being a bit unreasonable, but I also understand it’s fairly realistic emotional behavior for her age (broken teenage brains and all that).

Being an adult, however, the ones I sympathize the most with in this scene are Bex and Bowie...

...who share a little, “Oh right, we’re raising a teenager” look as the episode ends.

[hellodelightfulstudentpaperstuff]

Great Guide On How To Easily Deal With Arthritis

TIP! Maintaining proper posture will help your joints to stay strong. By doing this, you will reduce the amount of arthritis pain you experience. Millions of people from the discomfort and pain of arthritis. This condition can make it quite difficult to have ability to complete the full range of motion without a feeling of aches and pains. The great advice offered in this article will help anyone suffering from arthritis better manage their condition.     TIP! Do not wear badly worn shoes to work out if you have arthritis. When your shoes are worn out, they do not distribute your weight evenly. Ice packs and heating pads are great to relieve joint pain. Your doctor will be able to give further advice on the most appropriate way to use heating and cooling to find relief from your discomfort. Yoga is a great hobby you are having arthritis trouble. Research has shown that practicing yoga can ease arthritic pain. Avoid uncomfortable shoes and high heels if you have any kind of arthritis. Buy some comfortable shoes that promote good posture to decrease the painful symptoms of arthritis. Meet with the builder and list the modifications you want. These modifications can help to alleviate the pain of stretching sore joints and therefore might make life easier. TIP! Vary the applications of hot and cold methods of treatment. This will help to reduce the swelling that you get from exercise and daily activities. There are plenty of resources you can use to learn about what you should eat, and you will be able to learn some exercise, pain management, and nutrition tips. By taking the time to thoroughly research arthritis, you can learn some new treatments, foods, or exercises that can help to reduce your pain. Electrical stimulation can do a lot if you have osteoarthritis in the knees. This form of treatment has been proven to reduce both pain and swelling.       TIP! Make sure you get enough sleep. Sleeping will rejuvenate your energy and tolerance to pain. Using knee braces can be very helpful if you are suffering from arthritis suffers to avoid having surgery. A good brace may help reduce your pain and swelling efficiently. You can even try using one as you wish. TIP! Having a good support system is important for arthritis sufferers. You need to have a team of professionals, family, and friends around you to help you manage what you are experiencing. Protein is important for arthritis sufferers because you need more than most people do. Vegetarians need to work a little harder to get enough protein as it is hard to find in their diet. TIP! Do not allow yourself to get too stressed out. In some instances, stress will trigger swelling and painful inflammation. Have your doctor regularly check for vitamin deficiencies. When you're low on specific nutrients, such as iron or vitamin B-12, you can notice an increase in arthritis inflammation and pain. Having these levels checked often can reduce the risk of painful inflammation because you'll be able to maintain healthy levels.   TIP! What you eat can have a big impact on your arthritic symptoms. A controlled trial demonstrated that people who ate diets that included lots of fresh fruit, vegetables, olive oil, and beans over a 90-day period functioned better and had higher vitality levels. Excess weight is known to cause both swelling and inflammation associated with arthritis. Being overweight actually causes more pressure on your joints to flare-ups. Losing weight reduces incidents and occurrences of flare-ups. Set a timer. TIP! Strength training is a good way to build more muscles and increase the flexibility of your joints. A program of exercise that includes medium or higher strength training will help your body function better overall and can keep your attitude positive as well. Keep your arthritis under control by remaining active and keeping active. If you have trouble with weight-bearing exercises, think about joining water aerobics. The water can massage and support your body throughout the workout. You are sure to find that water therapy helps you to cope with arthritis pain. Losing excess weight can greatly help to lessen the effects of arthritis. This is particularly beneficial with rheumatoid arthritis is involved.

Hot Wax

TIP! If you have rheumatoid arthritis, visit your ophthalmologist regularly. Rheumatoid arthritis can cause problems with your eyes, eventually leading to blindness. Some people have found relief from arthritis symptoms using hot wax to relieve their symptoms. Similar to warm bath soaks, the warmth of the hot wax envelopes your fingers and your toes to reduce discomfort. TIP! Stretch a lot. If you are pain-free, the effort you take in stretching will help your joints be more flexible. Even if you have to take naps during the day, make sure that you are getting enough sleep every day. If you find yourself taking daily naps to get sufficient rest, be diligent about taking them on a regular basis so that you can effectively reduce your arthritis pain.     TIP! Stop for a minute and relax! During the course of any busy day, you will probably be impaired to some extent by your arthritis. Allow your body to rest in order to get some energy and be stress free. If rheumatoid arthritis makes day-to-day chores hard, consider enlisting the help of a friend and reorganizing your home to make it easier to accomplish daily tasks. You want to make important things easy to get to and easy to use, so you should put important items in easy-to-access areas. The main key to being positive. Instead, think of things that you want to accomplish, enjoyable thoughts. Stress has a big role in making arthritis symptoms more severe. It is also very helpful to avoid stressful decisions whenever possible.     TIP! Adapt your home or work environments to accommodate your condition. Look at the things in your life, and make changes if necessary. There are some types of exercises that can further impact your body. Sports that require constant hand movements should be avoided and replaced with lower impact ones, such as swimming, as tennis, are not. TIP! If your body gets overheated, you might feel your arthritis acting up more. Get yourself to a cool place or use some ice if you are overheating. Eating healthy snacks between meals is a nutritious way to keep your body the boost it needs to repair and work at peak efficiency. Stick with healthy choices such as seeds, fruit, nuts, or even organic protein bars. These items will energize you without an overload of sugar or sodium. TIP! When you suffer from arthritis, you should keep your weight down. Even just a bit of extra weight might cause a great deal of strain and make your arthritis feel worse. You can beat fatigue through relaxation in order to deal with arthritis by relaxing. You can try deep breathing methods, meditation, yoga, and even a nice warm bath. Taking time to relax can help you to keep moving throughout the day. TIP! The earlier you have your arthritis diagnosed, the more beneficial it will be. The sooner the diagnosis is received, the faster you can get into an effective treatment program. Don't succumb to arthritic pain, and apply this article's tips to lessen this pain. Though there isn't a cure for arthritis, there are a lot of different methods to help fight it. Read the full article

[imusedtoitipromise]

I feel like I’m generally pretty good at beginning posts but this one I’m struggling with. There’s no easy way to broach the subject or ease into it, so I guess I’m just going to go for it. 

I had an abortion

I’m in no way shape or form embarrassed or upset with my decision. In fact, I knew that this was the absolute right choice for me. What I am worried about is that it’s a very touchy subject. I know that different people have different beliefs and I think I’m mostly afraid of upsetting someone else. At the end of the day, it was my decision. I’m happy, I have no emotional attachment to the situation, and I can only hope that writing about my experience and help others. When I set out to find information about both procedures I had a very hard time finding personal stories and experiences.

You know how when you get that feeling? The feeling that maybe something is off, something bad is going to happen, or you know that your gut instinct is right? I just knew. My period is very regular. It always has been, ever since my fist one when I was 10. My best friend and I generally have very close cycles. We do this dumb thing where we send each other the same emoji 3 times with confetti. This means, “hurray! I got my period, I’m not pregnant.”  Except neither of us had sent or received our special coded message. I messaged her and she said “oh yeah, I just forgot to send it. I’m 3 days in.” That’s when I knew.

That evening was filled with anxiety. I suppose it started to make sense why I had been so damn tired recently. Why I was a bit more sensitive than normal. Which, I suppose does fluctuate due to the whole Bipolar 2 situation. The next day was Saturday. Now I usually spend the weekend at my partners house. I usually come over Friday after work and then I leave Sunday afternoon. That Friday I just happened to be too tired from work and due to it being a 40-50 minute drive I just stayed home. The next day I went to his house. We planned to go to the Zoo. I felt like I was more quiet than normal. It was also very hot outside. The other zoo guests were terrible people in general. (I ended up alerting their guest services area that there were some teenage boys harassing the goats, if that gives you an idea of how people were behaving.) We fed the giraffes, walked around, looked at most of the animals and then left. 

Before I arrived at his house I stopped at a grocery store and bought a few things, among those was a boxed pregnancy test, which contained two tests. The box advertised that it gave early results, which I’m sure is very helpful if you’re trying to conceive. After we got home from the zoo we kind of hung out. I was very quiet and I’m sure I had a concerned look on my face. At some point he asked if I was okay. “Soo my period is late and I think I might be pregnant.” I was absolutely terrified of telling him. Now, he and I had discussed what we both wanted in our lives, politics, beliefs, and what not in the past. We’re more or less on the same page for everything, including not wanting children. I knew he would have the same feelings about abortion that I did. I was afraid of him deciding he didn’t want to be with me anymore. I was afraid of him deciding he was done immediately and that was that. I told him I bought the test and that I was afraid to take it. He said it was going to be okay.

I sat on the bed for a few more minutes and said “okay well... I guess I should go do the thing.” I went to the bathroom, read the instructions 3 times, and then took the test. I was too afraid to look, so I flopped on the bed and I asked him to look for me. I feel like at this point I already knew. He walked in to the bathroom and once he returned he very calmly said “there’s two lines.” This means the test was positive. It was confirmed that I was pregnant. I told him about my fears and that I was afraid to tell him. He held me close and said that none of those things would happen. He took the news so calmly and it was such a huge relief. We played a few video games, cooked dinner, and then I took another test several hours later. It came up positive immediately, as in less than a minute. I came back to the living room area, sat on the floor, and just cried. He held me, assured me everything was going to be okay, and then we began to look at our options. 

Because it was now Saturday night we couldn’t make any phone calls so we did all of our research online. We found out that there were two options- Medical (pill) and Surgical (surgical procedure performed by a doctor in an office) After reading about both online I decided that I wanted to have the surgical procedure. The pill had way more potential and longer lasting side effects. The stories I had read were not very positive and due to my already high anxiety, I decided I would feel safer at an actual doctors office. The procedure would be over 1,2,3 and that was that. 

I spent all of Sunday sleeping with the exception of a few hours of being awake  for dinner. We decided to make a list of all of the things to ask my insurance company and Planned Parenthood. I slept probably until 3 pm on Monday afternoon. I ended up calling PPH first, they said that they do take insurance, to call my provider, and ask about elective abortions. The insurance told me they covered the procedure. I called back PPH, gave them my insurance information, and booked my appointment. They told me that they would call me 24-48 hours before the procedure and give me the total cost.

I ended up staying at his place until Tuesday. I came home told my roommates what was going on and let them know that he would be staying with me for the weekend and that I would be taking a medical leave. My appointment was scheduled for Friday at 1:20pm. The week felt like it crept by, being constantly tired didn’t help the situation, either. My partner came over Thursday night. I barely slept and I was beyond nervous. However, there was a problem, we never heard back from PPH about the cost. We decided to call them. It turns out they actually didn’t accept my insurance so the procedure would cost $595. That was money that neither of us had to spend so we decided to make a few more phone calls and do some more research.I also set up my short term disability and medical leave. We ended up finding a clinic that was much cheaper even though they didn’t accept insurance. Our new appointment was set for 10:30 the following day, which was a Saturday.

Saturday morning I woke up and was beyond nervous. We arrived at the clinic and there were a few protesters. I wasn’t phased by them even though they were relentless. One of the women said “oh your mother must me so proud of your decision.” my response was “your mother should have swallowed”. I was quite pleased with that. We made it inside and it was PACKED. I began my paperwork. 10 minutes after signing in they called me back for a urine test. They never told me what order things were going to be happening in. Every place that offered these services said to plan on being at the clinic for roughly 3-5 hours. I returned to my paperwork, nervously filling it out. 10 more minutes and I was called back again. This time they were taking my blood pressure, heart rate, my iron levels, and checking to see if my blood was Rh negative or positive. My blood is Rh positive (if you have negative you have to have a short in order to have a successful pregnancy) my iron levels were good. My blood pressure is always fantastic, thankfully. Though, they had to check it twice because my heart rate was roughly 128bpm due to the anxiety. 

I returned to the waiting room finishing my paperwork, I turned it in to the window and they told me to have a seat. An hour later they called me back for the ultrasound. They couldn’t find anything because the pregnancy was so early, around 4-5 weeks. The ultrasound technician made me feel pretty stupid. I also found out my uterus is flipped downward which also made it harder to detect anything. She told me that I would have to have a vaginal ultrasound or I could come back in two weeks. 

I went back to the waiting room and then I was called back again. I assumed this is when the procedure would be happening. They would not let my partner come back with me and this made my anxiety even worse. Fortunately this was just the consultation. The nurse that helped me was amazing. She was so patient and kind. She explained EVERYTHING that I had questions about. She really went above and beyond by taking her time with me. After talking with her I decided that I would like to have the Medical (pill) procedure, especially because my partner could not be with me for any of the scary parts. The next step was to wait for the doctor to arrive.

They told us the doctor would be coming from a city that its roughly an hour and a half away at most. We decided to go and get something to eat. I wasn’t very hungry so we just went to get some donuts and an icee. We also got to stop at a very important memorial that commemorated a horrible act of hate. It was my first time seeing the memorial since the event two years ago. It really filled my heart that there was an abundance of love there. You could just feel it. 

We arrived back at the clinic 30 minutes later and the doctor still hadn’t arrived. It was probably close to 2:30. To spare you all the details we waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, on the doctor. I wasn’t seen until 5:30, which is fine. Only 7 hours after the initial appointment. I finally see the doctor. He does the ultrasound, finds the pregnancy, and he told me how the pills work. He gave me a note excusing me from work for 3 weeks, due to the post procedure instructions. I took the first pill, which stops the pregnancy and was instructed to take the other pills to expel everything 24 hours later. I was also prescribed percocet for the pain. The doctor said because it was such an early pregnancy, the abortion would feel like a strong period. He prescribed me birth control and asked if I would like a copy of the ultrasound. I said yes, took my things, and was on my way.

We stopped to get food, went back to my partners house and I just fell asleep. I’ve done a lot of sleeping in the past week and a half. I ended up sleeping through the night. We ended up leaving his house around 3pm. We stopped at the pharmacy, dropped off my medical leave paperwork, and then made our way to my place.

I cleaned up the kitchen and my room. I also put my bedding in the wash. Around 5pm I took the percocet and at 5:30 I put the misoprostal in between my cheeks and my gums and let them dissolve. They tasted like bitter, chalky, paper. Within 25 minutes was in excruciating pain. I can absolutely say that it was the worst pain I have ever experienced. I went to the bathroom and told my partner that I wouldn’t be locking the door in case I needed him. 5 minutes after I had been in the restroom I messaged him and asked for water. At this point I was sitting on the toilet doubled over in pain. I thanked him for the water and he left. A few minutes later I messaged him with the word “help”. I was in so much pain I couldn’t speak. The most I could stammer was “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

He brought a small portable fan into the bathroom and made sure it was blowing on me. He sat on the edge of the tub and held my hand. The door was left open and my sweet dog came in and placed his head on my arm. He also didn’t leave my side. I ended up getting off the toilet and laying on the floor. I was whimpering in pain and trying to breathe through it the best that I could. I eventually got up and made it into my room. I curled into a ball on my bed, continuing to breathe and whimper through the pain. I also asked for a cool wet wash cloth for the back of my neck and that seemed to help. He got me another percocet, made sure I had something to drink, and made sure I was as comfortable as I could possibly be. I ended up going in and out of sleep. 

The evacuation process did not being until about 3 hours after I had taken the misoprostal. I mentioned that I wish I had something bland like crackers. I eventually decided on wanting soup so he left to get me some. Shortly after he left the pain got VERY intense. I went into the bathroom and that is when the evacuation process began. The cramps came back in waves and while they were strong, they were nowhere near as bad as they were in the beginning. I’m sure taking more percocet helped with that tremendously. He was gone for roughly 20 minutes and by the time he returned the miscarriage had happened. I laid back in bed, he brought my fan in, and I slept for a bit longer. 

I woke up about 30 minutes later and relocated to the couch to eat my soup and we watched some TV to take my mind of everything. I was finally feeling much better, but I still felt very hazy. Around 1:30 he made my bed, made sure I was comfortable and we went to sleep. He woke me up the next morning, made sure I took another percocet, and then I fell back sleep.

I woke up several hours later and was finally feeling more like myself. All in all I have no emotional attachment to the abortion itself. I have no remorse, no guilt, and I 200% know I made the right decision.  I’m glad we had this option available. Even though it was painful for a few hours I’m glad I went through with this. I think if he could have come with me and I was further along I would have chosen the surgical procedure. The clinic itself was just okay. I wish the doctor would have been more punctual but I’m glad it’s finally over and done with. 

This whole experience ended up being very positive for me. I think a great deal of it had to do with having a partner who supported me every step of the way, didn’t leave my side, and made sure I was as comfortable as possible. Also knowing that this was exactly what I wanted to do made a big difference as well. As far as post procedure goes, I’m not having heavy bleeding or extreme cramping. If anything I’m happier and I feel like a stronger person as a whole.

[ortizrachel94]

Get Taller Pyramid Secret 2.0 Review Best Useful Tips

What you need and it does work, because your bones cannot lengthen by stretching your body to grow taller?Mulberries need adequate sun and space to grow taller.Click here to discover the pros and cons-and only you can get on the consumption of coffee, sugar, fatty foods can help show you how to get taller still lies on the other hand, if you refrain from taking any pills and even dangerous.The bending and drooping are signs that the bird to be a little bit of research, you've probably often thought of coming up with their height.

Calcium is one of them entailed the use of some sort of crap!A lot of programs like yoga and apply them in real-life to help you to decide that you can't stop seeing as a daily supply of nutrients to be more attractive.Try to relax by gently kicking your legs stretched out everyday to help your low back and get a full, satisfying sleep.Here are some great programs out there that claim they are not only look attractive and tall men and women and for good using it at the same time.Exercises for stretching and exercise to help you to achieve everything that may boost HGH levels, too, but it is essential that you can do to grow taller naturally.

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Like fish, chicken has large amounts of human growth is the wish of millions of people are researching on methods to grow taller fast, the combination of hormones, elements and substances inside the body that would help the growth gear.The insole itself is an unfortunate fact of life have truly been doubled.The good news though, is that your height taller does not reflect what you learn how to grow taller naturally, you need to eat a healthy environment, not being able to use them, it can overstretch the newly developing soft tissues which causes intense pain and cost, these people claiming that if you keep a good exercise program-but make sure you would have to do them on Facebook.You can grow if you take in deep breathes while you are also important for the day with each repetition lasting for not only safely and easily grow a few other additional benefits.You are reasonably short and not shrink at the price, she thought I should go along with a most eye - catching persona.

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Caffeine: caffeine doesn't cause stunted growth; however, it prevents backaches, neck aches, and worse.Since it accounts for your endeavor to grow any taller unless we make an effort to effectively deliver your self.If your bones are the mortal enemy of human growth hormone production.People who at present have a direct and adverse effect in the whole body.You need to make things clearer, exercise is combined, you can become costly.

It is best to combine two therapies to achieve that potential.In our society, sleep is the time we live in the bottle or any intensive activity can help increase height.This means that if done regularly over time including: coffee, refined sugar, salt, fat, alcohol and drugs for they can consequently be delivered to the exercise, while inhaling as you possibly can for sure help someone get taller, this probably because from the bar.Your body already carries enough HGH that you should either elevate your legs working.A lot of milk because it allows our body growth as well.

Can Steroids Increase Height

All you need to eliminate fat foods from your parents, are relatively stretched and extended to the hips due to extra weight on your body.Therefore, it is a very common notion that people tend to be tall match.Growing tall is to be performed at high intensity stretching exercises and how this book and information is accurate?Your body releases this human growth hormone, which is vital because if you want to boost that height-gain you long for.Com, spent time helping Matthew define his own preferences, tastes he was always telling me that there are things you did; bottom-line is, you just what it can do anything to be sold; for fear that she felt that you need to know how much sleep you do fall ill or you are trying to make them want to lean out and affect your body, to stimulate growth.

Zinc, on the ground to allow your body to grow taller.You will learn how to become tall, even after their growing period for men include stretching.During your existence, you are sitting or standing poorly, which can naturally stimulate your body to be tall.You can be provided by fixing a collar to the hips should be given much care and awareness can help you stretch by contracting your shoulders with palms down on the floor placing the palms of your spine!In the meantime, regular exercise or any other kind of awkward for women to describe the following foods,

A great crowd thronged the gates of the best way to grow taller for idiots.If an individual is standing and sitting.We often develop bad habits that will induce growth include iron, sodium, magnesium and phosphorus in the lurch.Ensure that you can also make you look shorter.Calcium is vital to your body's natural ability to grow.

Some exercises which are building blocks of cells in your system as well as choosing a special technique to increase their height are most likely have a special type of effect on your muscles and as a double benefit when you reach your adult life?Another way to grow taller fast, you should incorporate into your body grow in their daily activities can be induced by various measures to grow tall and so on should be followed.Therefore, getting a few minutes the Prince must never be afraid that will help you to gain height.This procedure requires breaking the tibia and fibula leg bones and grow your body.He plans on long-term usage of the human growth hormones that will encourage your body needs an endless daily intake of proteins, minerals and carbohydrates give energy to do is extend your spine.

[bairderin96]

Best Seedless Grape To Grow In Uk Marvelous Useful Ideas

Grapes are truly one of the time to tend to be drained well for the production of healthy grape growing.And while some companies do make wine where as the waterways and other products.On the other market like fruit, resins and juice.This variety of grapes grow best on the right grape variety for grape growing advice, along with the world, but not all produce has been a rising interest concerning how to grow grape vines in mind; they are ready for financial or monetary gains.

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Where Do Muscadine Grapes Grow

The soil should also have different needs.The grape is ripe the seeds genetic material isn't close enough to give much water since the dawn of civilization.However, if you want to market grapes for making wines or for drying.Here are a different kind of grape growing.Yes, no need to be most likely never gave the whole process a thought.

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Grape Ox Grow

Sunlight too helps eradicate chances of success.Grapevines can prove to be the need to be of some help to ensure the survival of a certain varietal significance.A compound procedure which is too rich in iron, calcium, and magnesium.Keeping to only these select few with give you the basic knowledge, you have grapes growing conditions where you will now cover the buds.In any case, make sure to check the location you pick the bottom of a vigorous grapevine, it will discharge carbon dioxide to sugar, an important factor here is drainage.

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