#we love misunderstandings turning into a massive public event !

[hyperkittyjkat]

george's video was so good for clearing up literally anything else people could nitpick and I'm just 😭 god,,, anyway I'll probably quietly show support for him and the dream team here but very rarely;;; I'm still out of the fandom and don't wanna go back but tumblr seems way more calm and understanding compared to the hellish place that is twt so who knows how much I'll engage here ehe

[becarefuloflove]

Life as We Know It- Rowaelin AU

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Chapter 2: Surprises 

AELIN

Aelin hears Rowan’s door open the same time as hers. He gives her a small nod by way of greeting, but she pretends not to see behind her glasses and walks toward the house.

Beyond the curving driveway, the front porch is dominated by enormous columns. Two parallel rows of windows line the entire front facade. Nehemia had always loved the sunlight, and from the few times Aelin had come to stay at their house in the past, there was nothing more beautiful than watching the sunrise filter in through the front windows in the mornings, and then watching the sun set behind the mountains from the back porch.

Aelin’s feet wobble as she climbs the stairs, and she grabs the railing to steady herself. This is probably the last time she will ever step foot in this house again.

“Are you drunk?” she hears from behind her.

She whirls to face him. “Yes, yes of course. I am wasted and drove here drunk off my ass the day after my best friend was murdered by a drunk driver. Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Rowan puts his hands up in apology. Aelin notices the darkness under his eyes and his crooked tie, but can’t bring herself to feel anything. She turns back around and marches up the remaining steps and knocks on the door, hearing Rowan silently come up to stand behind her.

A woman in a gray suit opens the door. “Ahh, Ms. Galathynius, Mr. Whitethorn, welcome, come in. I have everything inside.” Aelin hesitates for a minute before stepping in. She recognizes the woman from work, Kaltain. They don’t interact much since Aelin handles criminal cases and this woman focuses on family and children. But she doesn’t bring it up, so Aelin doesn’t either. They silently move from the front foyer to the back of the house. They walk by rows of pictures- Nehemia and Vaughn’s wedding, which feature a younger, happier Aelin, beaming beside her best friend. Sam’s in one of the shots too, and Aelin has to force herself to look away before she breaks down again. But it’s the pictures toward the end of the hall, right before it opens up to the back half of the house that makes Aelin stop dead in her tracks.

“The girls. The babies, where are they? Are they ok?!” Aelin can’t believe she forgot to ask about Nehemia’s twin daughters, who were her god-daughters. She’d been too busy, too caught up in her own head. She was a horrible person.

“They are fine, Ms. Galathynius. They were with a babysitter at the time of the accident and have since been placed with CPS- Child Protective Services.”

“Can I-” Aelin starts to ask, but Kaltain cuts her off.

“We’ll get to them in time, please take a seat so we can get started. There are some important things we need to discuss.” Kaltain goes to the dining table and sits down, gesturing for Aelin and Rowan to join her. They take the closest seats on either side. Aelin finally takes off her glasses, her feet bouncing up and down on the rug as she waits for the lawyer to begin talking.

“So first, I want to begin by saying how sorry I am for your loss. Losing one’s close friends is never easy, especially in circumstances like these. Nehemia and Vaughn left instructions on what to do in a situation like this- a worse case scenario in which both of them die. They spent most of their money on buying and renovating this house, they intended to use it as an investment property so not much remains. The money that does will go into a trust for the girls that they can access when they turn 18.”

“So where will the girls go in the meantime? Vaughn was adopted, and Nehemia had no siblings. Both their parents are dead.” Rowan asks matter of factly.

“That is where you two come in. In their will, Nehemia and Vaughn left custody of their girls, Orion and Azrael, to you, to both of you.”

Aelin lets out a strangled noise. “I’m sorry, there must have been a misunderstanding...we-” she says, pointing between her and Rowan, “aren’t married, or even together. We haven’t even seen each other in years.”

“Trust me, I tried to talk them out of this, but they both insisted that you two be the ones to have joint custody of the girls. Of course, if that’s not what you want, there are other options.”

At that, Rowan pushes his chair back with a loud squeak and stands up. “I-I need a minute. Please excuse me, I’ll be right back.” He walks toward the back door, fiddling with his collar as he goes, disappearing somewhere into the hedges in the backyard.

Aelin gets up too, and walks in the opposite direction, just so she doesn’t have an audience when she has a meltdown about this whole situation. Aelin as a mother is something she never imagined. Well, no, she had imagined it, with Sam. But that dream had died the night she’d lost him. She walks slowly back down the hall, but stops at the picture she’d rushed by earlier. It’s a candid shot of them laughing at a joke that Vaughn had made. Aelin can’t remember the joke now, but if she had to guess, it was probably some wild story from one of his photography expeditions. Nehemia is leaning into her new husband, grinning widely. Aelin’s head is half thrown back in laughter, resting on Sam’s shoulder as he stands behind with his arms around her waist. The other side of the picture features a lone figure- Rowan. His amusement is more reserved than the four of them, but he’s smiling as he leans one arm on Vaughn’s shoulder.

Aelin tears her eyes away and makes it back to the foyer. She makes it to the base of the stairs before falling onto the bottom one and putting her head in her hands. Reality crashes back into her- her best friend’s death, her godchildren being orphans, her becoming a parent with Rowan Whitethorn, OF ALL PEOPLE. “Is this some twisted joke?” she says to no one, trying to calm her erratic heartbeat that’s climbing higher and higher by the second. But as she’s trying to get her breathing under control, Aelin realizes this moment isn’t about her or her complicated feelings about motherhood, it’s about the people who need her most. She jumps up from the steps and rushes back to the dining room.

She gets there just as Rowan is walking back in.

“OK, I’ll take them.” she blurts.

His head whips to Aelin, but he doesn’t say anything. Aelin isn’t surprised, Rowan’s probably too concerned with his career to think about kids. She’s fine with that. Aelin’s used to doing things alone, and this will be no different. She could do it. She would do it, because she knows Nehemia would have done the same for her without hesitation.

“That’s nice Ms. Galathynius, but the Will stipulated that you and Mr.Whitethorn take this responsibility together. However, if you really want the girls and Mr. Whitethorn does not, then we can take this case before a judge and petition a change to grant you full custody.”

At that, Rowan finally speaks up. “Wait, wait. I never said I didn’t want the girls. They’re my god-daughters too, and Vaughn was like a brother to me.”

Could have fooled me, Aelin thinks, but decides not to make that comment public.

Kaltain sighs. “Well, there’s certainly a lot of paperwork to be done regarding this, and the Social Services department still has to formally assign one or both of you legal custody. So why don’t you two move in here, to this house, and keep the girls while you figure out what you’d like to do next. Someone from CPS will come by weekly to check in, and by the end of the month, you can make a final decision on how you’d like to proceed.”

“Move in….here?” Rowan asks. “But we both work in the city, and we already have our own places there.”

“Well, unless you plan to sell this house and both move into one of your apartments with the twins, I think it would be best to take advantage of the space here.”

Aelin’s one bedroom apartment is nice, but not at all suitable for babies, or Rowan for that matter. She releases an involuntary shudder at that thought. Then, she feels, rather than sees, Rowan’s eyes on her. How odd, she thinks, that she can sense his gaze so well. When Aelin turns to look at him, he seems to want to say something, but as the seconds tick by, nothing comes out. Kaltain sits patiently, looking between the two of them as she waits for a response.

“Let’s do it.”

ROWAN

24 hours ago, his life was normal. He was sitting in his apartment, putting the finishing touches on his first major story since moving to Terrasen. He was alone, but he preferred that solitude. He needed that solitude. After everything that had happened in the past 5 years, Rowan wasn’t ready to have anyone in his life. The scars were deep, and the wraiths from his past that still haunted his nightmares required his full attention to keep away. He didn’t have anyone in his life because he couldn’t. Anyone that saw him, the real Rowan Whitethorn, would run for the mountains and never return. Oh, and 24 hours ago, his best friend was still alive.

And now, standing at the front porch of Nehemia and Vaughn’s house with two suitcases of his belongings, he’s moving into a massive house with two babies and Aelin Galathynius. He didn’t know what had possessed him to blurt out “Let’s do it” a couple hours ago when the lawyer had looked to them for an answer. His own thoughts had been roaring so loud in his head when he first heard that Vaughn and Nehemia had named the two of them in their will that he needed to get out of the room, away from Aelin’s eyes which seemed to see entirely too much of him for his comfort.

It was such a Vaughn thing to do too. Vaughn who had been born somewhere in the Japanese Isles but left at an orphanage days later with no note or explanation. Who had, through a bizarre series of events, been adopted by a Wendlynan couple who were passing through the small town that day and discovered him on the stoop before the orphanage director had noticed the new arrival. The couple who had then moved next door to the house Rowan had lived in with his Aunt Maeve. Vaughn had become Rowan’s steadfast companion over the years and everything that happened within them. Vaughn had come into the world alone, but had left it with the deepest bonds. Already, the news of his and Nehemia’s death had broken on the morning news and the internet was full of stories and messages from all the people whose lives had been touched by Vaughn and Nehemia.

Just as Rowan is about to step in and close the door, he sees Aelin’s car pull into the driveway. When she makes it to the porch, he approaches her. “You need help carrying those in?”

Aelin gives him a glare, but then seems to deflate before simply nodding and stepping back to get her other suitcases. There’s four in total, and a couple of very heavy cardboard boxes.

“What could you possibly have in here?” Rowan huffs as he carries them up the stairs and into the house.

“My cases. I have two trials coming up, and still a fuck ton of work I need to get done.”

“Didn’t you just close that huge case with Arobynn Hamel? TNN was fucking chaotic that day, we changed our entire evening broadcast for it.”

Aelin looks at him at that. The kind of look Rowan imagines a deer caught in headlights receives. Blinding. Arresting. All-coherent-thoughts-in-your-head-emptying. There’s nothing to do but look back at her, and wait for the hit.

“Ha, if only we all lived in that kind of world Rowan. Put one guy away, a hundred more line up to take his place. Though sorry it ruined your show, didn’t mean to inconvenience you with my life’s work.” she finally spits out.

“So is this how it’s going to be for the next month?” Rowan huffs, running his hand through his hair before gripping it in frustration.

“Like what?” Aelin asks. “I’m just trying to move into my dead best friend’s house and try to raise two children with someone who is very obviously NOT my boyfriend or husband. I’m perfectly fine. Just a typical Saturday afternoon for me.”

Rowan sighs. “I don’t know what your deal is with me Aelin, but we have to live under this roof together. So how about you go about your business and I’ll go about mine, and we can both stay out of each other’s way.”

“You got yourself a deal, Whitethorn.”

***

A couple hours later, Rowan is waiting for the air mattress to finish inflating so he can lay down. He had offered the guest room to Aelin and she had taken it without a word. This left the downstairs couch or the air mattress in Vaughn’s office for Rowan. Of course there was the master bedroom, but it didn’t feel right for Rowan to be there. All of Vaughn and Nehemia’s things were still there and it felt too much like a mausoleum to be in there now.

When the air pump finally clicks off, Rowan throws a fresh sheet on top and immediately sinks into it. It’s not luxurious by any means, but he’s had much worse on some of his assignments around the world, so he can’t complain. “Hey, wake up. It’s time to get the girls.”

Rowan blinks and bolts awake. He looks up and sees Aelin standing in the doorway, phone in one hand, car keys in the other.

“Oh ok, yes, let’s go. I’ll drive.”

“Haha, no. Your two-door fancy pants car is not going to hold two car seats. And I don’t let anyone else drive my car.”

And so they get in and start the almost hour long drive to the courthouse to get the girls and sign the official papers. Both of them are too on edge to have a conversation, and Rowan is content to watch the suburbs disappear and the cityscape of Orynth come back into view from the window.

When they finally make it to the courthouse, he lets Aelin lead him in through the back entrance, which he suspects, by the multiple ID check points, is reserved for high level employees. Aelin claims it’s faster this way, but Rowan suspects it’s because she doesn’t want to see anybody right now or deal with their pitying looks.

Rowan’s too wrapped up in his own thoughts that he almost crashes into Aelin when she stops in front of him. He catches himself in time and looks up to see two figures that seem to have captured Aelin’s attention. It’s a man, with blond hair and the same light turquoise eyes as Aelin, and a dark haired woman.

“Aedion?” Aelin whispers, taking a couple small steps forward. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard. I heard about Nehemia and I’m so sorry Aelin.” Aedion says, walking toward them. Aelin doesn’t move at first, but then runs into Aedion’s arms. Rowan doesn’t need to see the tears to know she’s crying. “I’m here for you Aelin. I’m always here.” he says to her.

Rowan had heard the rumors. Aelin Galathynius and Aedion Ashryver were cousins, they used to pop up at campaign events hand-in-hand in their youth, which is where Rowan had first spotted them when he was just starting out in the industry as a reporting intern. Aelin and Aedion were inseparable. There was a running joke in the press room that if you found one, you’d see the second close behind, and could judge the state of President Rhoe by their level of supervision. If Aelin and Aedion had an aide nearby, things were generally well. But if they were roaming the grounds alone, something serious was going on. But in the past few years, Rowan hadn’t seen many pictures of the two of them together. Nor had he seen any overly exaggerated stories about them in the tabloids. He’d assumed it was because he’d moved on from the day-to-day reporting to focus on broadcasting, but watching the scene before him, it seemed like something deeper had happened.

It’s then that Aedion seems to notice Rowan standing there and he gestures for Rowan to come closer.

“Hey man, thanks for being there for Aelin. I’m so glad she’s met someone after everything that’s happened”

Rowan shoots Aelin a puzzled look. Aedion doesn’t know.

“Er, thanks Aedion, but Aelin and I aren’t...together.”

“Oh!” he exclaims, looking between Aelin and Rowan in confusion. “So, you’re just here as a friend to help Aelin identify the bodies?”

“Wait, what? There are no bodies? We’re here for Orion and Azrael.” Aelin says.

“Wait, who are Orion and Azrael? And what other reason than moral support is Rowan Whitethorn with you?”

“They’re Vaughn and Nehemia’s daughters. And Aelin and mine’s god-children.” Rowan manages to get out.

“Who we will now be raising.” Aelin continues. “ And Aedion I’m really happy to see you, but I really don’t have time to deal with your alpha-male BS right now or to explain anything about my life when you haven’t been in it for so long.”

A look of regret shadows Aedion’s face, but he wisely doesn’t ask any more questions.

Aelin looks like she wants to say something else, but their reunion is interrupted when one of the social workers comes out to the lobby and calls for Aelin and Rowan to come into her office for the paperwork. Aelin gives Aedion their new address and he promises to come by tomorrow to meet the girls and make up for the time he’s been away. The woman with him, who is introduced as Lysandra, stays mostly silent the entire time, but gives both Rowan and Aelin a quick hug before departing with Aedion.

The meeting with the social worker passes by in a blur and less than an hour later, they’re back in Aelin’s car with the girls, who are thankfully asleep in their car seats.

“I didn’t realize you and Aedion weren’t close anymore.” Rowan states, once Aelin manages to escape the city traffic and makes it to the highway.

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Rowan.”

Rowan puts his hands up, “Ok, fair. Just trying to figure out how I should act when he comes over tomorrow.”

Aelin sighs. “It’s a long story, we used to be inseparable. My parents were always busy with running the country so I spent most of the day with Aedion. Then three years ago, we sort of just drifted apart and that’s that.”

“Yeah, I remember seeing you guys chasing each other around when I came for the daily press briefings.”

“You were there?” Aelin asks, shocked. “I don’t remember seeing you, and I definitely would have remembered a man with white hair walking around.”

“I was just an intern then. I sat in the back of the press room and took notes for my newspaper. But my seat was right by the window and whenever the briefing was dragging, I’d look out and often see you two running and playing. I was jealous to be honest.”

“Ha” Aelin snorts, “I was always jealous of people like you, you got to go out into the world and do something. I was stuck inside those gilded gates.”

Rowan’s eyebrows raise at that confession. Somehow he hadn’t imagined young Aelin as someone who wanted to get out. “You always seemed so happy to be playing with Aedion. So in the moment.”

“Hmm, I was happy. But after, um, after my parents di- were gone, living in the moment was kinda tough.”

He can tell there’s a lot Aelin isn’t saying, but this is the first conversation they’ve managed without being snippy with each other so Rowan doesn’t push it.

“So what happened three years ago?” Rowan asks. “Did Aedion do something?”

Aelin doesn’t respond. But Rowan sees her grip tighten on the steering wheels, and her lips tighten to a thin line and he realizes he’s said something wrong, but can’t figure out what it is. He wracks his brain to remember what happened three years ago, but all he can remember is Vaughn’s wedding in the spring.

It’s not until they’re pulling back into the driveway of the house almost 30 minutes later that he remembers. She lost her fiance, Sam, three years ago. But what did that have to do with Aedion? He tries to suppress his journalistic urge to ask more questions, and is saved by cries in the backseat. The girls are awake.

Tags: @queen-of-glass

[tiny-maus-boots]

Queen of Hearts pt 1

A/N: I know it’s a couple of days yet before your birfday, and I know it won’t be complete by then buuuut...happy birthday @eleanors-rigby

A/N 2: Thank you thank you thank you to my bestie @chloes-yellow-cup for doing the thing with the ao3 stuff and the beta. ilyan.

Full House

“When you said dinner with your family I didn’t think you meant your entire family tree.”

Stacie looked up from her phone at that and glanced out the window. Lilly pulled the truck up the drive past a row of expensive cars neatly parked by red coated valets. Her stomach dropped as she realized that she was going to be expected to play a certain role at dinner. She should have realized when her mother had made the invitation that something was up but she hadn’t even considered that her parents might have an ulterior motive. Maybe she had just hoped that now, finally eight months after the police had called to tell her Weston’s boat had been found on fire and the charred body found on board was presumed to be his, that the freeze out might have thawed a little.

There had been and investigation and questions, so many questions, and while she had known her family would take a public stand to support her, privately she had felt disowned. They hadn’t outright said she was unwelcome but they hadn’t called or visited, not even to see how she was handling things. So when her mother had called to invite her to dinner she had jumped at the chance rather stupidly. Of course they hadn’t wanted to see her just to see her, they wanted her to be the perfect daughter in the perfect family unit.

“I should have known. We don’t have to do this…”

They could just leave. Lilly could just pull all the way around the drive and take them through an In N Out on the way home. It was so tempting to just…run away. Aubrey’s warm hand covered her own and pulled it into her lap. It was such a simple gesture to create so much peace and she surrounded herself in the comforting feel of knowing Aubrey was by her side.

“We can if you really want to.” There was no judgement in Aubrey’s tone and Stacie leaned into her girlfriend’s side grateful for the support. She would love it if they could go but they were there now and despite the fact that she wanted nothing to do with her father’s political aspirations she knew she had to help represent the family. The blonde slid her arm around Stacie’s shoulders, gently pulling her closer. Lips brushed her temple in a light kiss, her voice taking on an amused husky whisper that caused a shiver to chase down Stacie’s spine. “Or we could go in and find a corner to make out in. Bet you twenty bucks we scandalize at least three people.”

Her lips curved into a smile at the mention of a bet. “Oh baby, I never bet on a sure thing. What’s the fun in that?” Stacie raised a shoulder in a shrug. “But I do love a good scandal so there’s a good chance I’ll take you up on that offer.” She was kidding, but it was nice to know that the option was there.

Aubrey caught her lips in a laughing kiss and suddenly it didn’t matter that she was facing an evening of fake smiles and backhanded compliments. She wouldn’t be facing it alone, those days were long past her now. The car rolled to a slow stop at the front of the house and Lilly got out to open the door for them. Aubrey slid out first, glancing around with an assessing gaze before straightening the jacket of her dark grey pinstripe suit and buttoning it. She turned to hold out a hand and Stacie took it, letting Aubrey guide and steady her out of the backseat.

“Lil, stick with the ride and keep an eye on the package, will ya?”

Lilly nodded and Stacie waved away the approaching valet. Aubrey gave a disbelieving chuckle as she took in the estate and grounds. It was massive and pretentious, exactly the type of house you’d expect from her parents. It wasn’t that she was above living within her very comfortable means but the manse had never really been a home. Then again they had never really been a family. More like puppets going through the motions of living and performing for press.

“Nice place, anything I should know before we get in there?”

“Yeah, don’t trust anyone in there and I love you.”

Aubrey smiled widely at the last part and brought Stacie’s hand to her lips for a soft kiss. She might not be a big talker but she always seemed to let Stacie know exactly how she felt exactly when Stacie needed to know it. They climbed the short flight of stone steps hand in hand and she knew they looked damn good together in their sleek and complimentary monochromatic attire, it was something at least that her mother wouldn’t be able to pick on. The front door opened just as they reached the last step, her mother, a slightly shorter and older version of herself, stood in the frame with a flicker of a frown furrowing her brow. “Anastacia, I didn’t realize you’d be bringing a guest.”

A muscle near the corner of her eye twitched and she resisted the urge to get back in the car after all. It wasn’t so much the words but the disappointed tone under them. Her mother was an artist when it came to conveying so much disdain with the smallest of expressions and a handful of words. “I don’t know why you didn’t, mother. I did tell you I was dating someone when we spoke last.”

The frown smoothed off her mother’s face and a polite if distant smile affixed itself across her features instead. “Yes, I do recall that. I didn’t realize you were still seeing someone.”

Aubrey squeezed her hand lightly and Stacie gave her mother a tired sigh knowing this was simply a precursor to the rest of the night. “We just talked last week.”

“You’ve always had a busy social life dear.”

She felt the shift in Aubrey’s posture, a nearly imperceptible straightening of her spine at the older woman’s implication. Stacie wanted to come back with something sharp but decided it just wasn’t worth it. Not this soon into the evening anyway. The brunette gave a slight shake of her head and let the blank smile of her mask slip into place on her face.

“Aubrey, this is my mother, Helene. Mother, I’d like you to meet Aubrey Posen. My girlfriend.” She wanted to say ‘my girlfriend of nearly a year’ but that would only raise an eyebrow and come with a lot of questions and rebuke later. “We’ve been seeing each other for several months now.”

“I see.” So soon. It didn’t have to be said out loud, Stacie could feel the weight of judgement in those two words like a yoke on her shoulders. “Well, pleasure to make your acquaintance. Please do come in, we’re just about to sit for dinner.”

“The pleasure is mine Mrs. Conrad. You have a lovely home.”

“Thank you, Audrey.”

Stacie’s mother gave a curt and brief smile, as if she expected the pleasantry, and led them inside. Aubrey chuckled softly at her mother’s intentional use of another name. It was nothing that could be pointed out easily, Helene would simply say that it was a misunderstanding but in reality it was meant to make Aubrey feel insignificant. So insignificant as to be forgettable already. She opened her mouth to ready to lash out at the woman but Aubrey spoke first.

“It’s Aubrey, ma’am.”

“Excuse me?”

Helene turned to face them both, her measuring eye almost too heavy to stand under. Stacie felt herself start to take a step forward, prepared to get between the two of them, but Aubrey gave her hand a gentle squeeze and presented her mother with a forgiving smile.

“My name. It’s Aubrey.”

“I’m sure that’s what I said.” Her mother’s brow came up in challenge, daring Aubrey to say something further, to call her a liar.

Stacie’s breath hitched at the self-possessed posture that had first drawn her eye to Aubrey as the blonde met the older woman’s gaze. Mild amusement colored her tone, disarming her mother.  “I’m sure that it isn’t. It’s alright though, I forgive you.”

Her mother’s eyes gave a slight narrowing as she reassessed Aubrey, taking in the other woman’s quiet confidence with a soft thoughtful hmm. Stacie had to bite her lip to keep from smirking when her mother didn’t know what to say and floundered for a moment. The contest of wills between them was broken and Aubrey had won.

“Yes well you two can sit down at my end of the table.”

Stacie gave a nod of acknowledgement. She was the least of her father’s assets so of course she would be placed at the foot of the table. She didn’t mind that really, it let her be more herself because there was less scrutiny but she knew it was another intentional slight to the both of them. Aubrey seemed to take it in stride as she easily guided Stacie to her seat and tucked in her chair, nodding and smiling graciously at the other dozen or so people seated for dinner. Conversation died down as they settled in and she could feel eyes boring into them.

“Stacie, dear, it’s been so long. Sorry to hear about your…unpleasant situation.” A graceful smile crossed her face and she gave a slight nod to the wife of one of her father’s biggest contributors. The older woman was clearly digging for gossip and in the mixed company they had it would be best to play along. At least a little.

She tipped her head in thought and shrugged lightly as if the last few years of her life with Weston hadn’t been a nightmare. “I was devastated of course, no one is ever prepared for the police to inform them of the death of their spouse.”

“Yes of course, and the…scandal…such a shock. And you didn’t have a clue?”

It took her a second to collect herself at that comment. It wasn’t as if she expected that no one would know, it was everywhere, all over the news, and whispered behind backs at every society event. She had just hoped that she could avoid having to deal with questions, comments, and stares at least in her family home. The whole table hung on their every word and even her father seemed to be interested for once. If only to see how her answer would reflect on him.

“To be honest with you, Weston and I had grown apart. I knew there were other women but I never suspected there was something more to the relationships than just casual appointments.”

Someone snorted softly at the table but when she glanced up she couldn’t tell who had done it. Several glances skittered away from hers and she was sure they likely all suspected that she had known all along. Not about the affairs, that was expected, accepted even. Maybe deep down she had always wondered how badly Weston treated the other women but Stacie hadn’t really known about the deaths. Not until the end but by then she was unsurprised by the truth.

“What a terrible business. I would be a wreck.”

It was another little judgement, but the sting of it didn’t touch her when Aubrey gave her hand a gentle squeeze under the table. The smile on her face eased into something more natural when the blonde gave her a quick wink.

“I was, Edith. The reporters and investigators…it was just such a trying time.” Stacie knew better than to try and mention the victims. Her job was to save face while being the source of a scandal and that meant drawing focus from the stark and terrible truth of what kind of monster was among them. Voices rose and fell around them as people quietly picked up their conversations. They were all still listening with sharp ears for anything they could use no matter how suddenly disinterested they seemed. “I don’t know how I would have gotten through it without Aubrey.”

One by one conversations around them dropped off and all eyes drifted toward Aubrey. Stacie chuckled at the stern look her mother cut her and shrugged. They were all bound to ask eventually, it was better to get it all out on the table.

“Oh? It’s nice that you have such a strong…friendship.”

The older woman looked at her expecting her to continue on with the vague reference of what they were to each other. It wasn’t because they were both women, it was simply that none of the guests at the table had any idea who Aubrey was. And if they didn’t know her then she must be no one of worth. That was almost as big a scandal as having a dead husband suspected of murder.

“It’s strengthened by trust, Edith. I guess that’s what makes our relationship so strong. Sweetheart this is Edith Roussard-Ford, Edith this is my girlfriend Aubrey Posen.”

There was a ripple of emotion that traveled through them all. Mostly surprise, some amusement, and of course a few condemning gazes. Snobs. All of them were snobs. Edith cleared her throat and smiled benignly at Aubrey in faux welcome.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance dear.”

Aubrey smoothed her hand down her vest and smiled as she settled herself more comfortably in the chair. “The pleasure is mine. I saw the collection you loaned to The Met last month when I was in the City for business. You have an impressive collection on display.”

“Oh yes! Thank you.” Edith’s eyes lit up and she leaned forward a bit across the table. The older woman seemed charmed despite herself and Stacie flashed an amused grin at her silently watching father. “Oh I just adore the art world. Oh especially on the East Coast. I try to make it home at least twice a year, especially in these dreadful hot winters. Well, really you can’t enjoy a good holiday season anywhere but Manhattan quite honestly. I’m sorry, what did you say you were doing there for business?”

Stacie had to swallow down the laughter at Edith’s nosey prattle, she knew the old girl would eventually get around to more personal details. Aubrey smiled winningly and made a vague gesture with her hand. “I was brokering a deal between two companies for some property assets. It was a special project I was helping a friend with but I have my own varied investments here in California. I guess you could say I’m a bicoastal Jack of all trades.”

Edith laughed in delight at the comment, instantly taking to Aubrey. Her father’s glass thunked heavily on the table and everyone glanced his way. “Jack of all trades. And here I thought you were just a bartender.”

She had thought it had been quiet before but it was nothing to the deep silence of held breaths all around the table. Her father let his disapproval fall like a shroud and the entire party could feel it like a weighty hand. It was the kind of intimidation that only a parent could deliver but Aubrey smiled and gave a slight shrug. She should have expected that he was still keeping tabs on her life even if he wasn’t overly concerned with how she was handling everything.

“Yes, that’s one of my investments, my very first actually. I admit I spend a good bit of my time there, maybe out of sentiment, but it’s my baby and I can manage my other ventures from anywhere.”

Heads turned to her father, his jaw clenched as he worked through his words carefully. “And what other ‘ventures’ do you have?”

It was clear August Conrad had done more than just a little digging when it came to Aubrey and the fact that he was being hostile at an event with company said a lot about his feelings on what he’d learned. Their housekeeper Louisa brought in soup and began to serve. Aubrey waited until Louisa had served them both before bothering to answer her father.

“I suppose you could say I have a diversified portfolio. I dabble in passive income and real estate, I’m a partner in a catering company, a nightclub, and a few other small businesses…I’m always looking for a new revenue stream to tap.”

There wasn’t a nice way of saying that most of Aubrey’s income came from illegal gambling and related crimes but even if there was it wouldn’t change the fact that however much money Aubrey had it wasn’t old money and therefore didn’t matter. August drummed his fingers on the table but let it go when he realized everyone had been served and were waiting on him to begin.

“Thank you Louisa. Friends, I would just like to say that I am grateful to be here with you all, grateful for the support and contributions you all have shown me in my climb up the political ladder, and I’m grateful to my family for always rallying around me in my time of need. Let’s begin shall we?”

It was a beautiful speech but it was generic and far too familiar. He said it at all these dinner parties and Stacie and her mother were always last to be mentioned. She was too old to roll her eyes but the urge to do so was strong for a moment. Small talk dominated the conversations around them through the appetizer and main course and Aubrey politely broke away from speaking with a congressman about horse races so she could lean into Stacie’s shoulder for a gentle bump.

“Hey you.”

“Hey yourself, sorry about my dad. But I’m pretty sure Edi has a crush on you if you’re interested.”

The blonde shrugged and tipped her head to the side and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Sorry Edi, I’m a one woman kind of gal and your dad is just being a dad and looking out for you. I am slightly disreputable after all.”

“No, he’s covering his ass. He isn’t looking out for me he’s looking out for the potential scandal that could drag him down in the polls. And that’s all fine, I’m kind of over it all so when dinner is done let’s make our exit.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I really wanted this to be different and I don’t know why because nothing ever will with them. Now all I want is to go home and get you out of that suit.” Aubrey laughed and bumped her shoulder again playfully. She knew her parents were watching them but it just didn’t matter at all to her what they thought. “Unless you want to hang around for Edith.”

Aubrey made a thoughtful hum sound before lowering her voice again. “Well I do appreciate an older lover so maybe. Hmmm. Nah I’m stupid in love for this girl and she’s all I have eyes for.”

“Oh you’re so getting lucky tonight.” It was said laughingly but only because the swell of love was too much to hide and it left her momentarily embarrassed. Something flashed in Aubrey’s eyes and she stroked her thumb over Stacie’s knuckles.

“Stace, I’ve been lucky since the first night we met. I’ll be lucky the rest of my life as long as I share it with you.”

It wasn’t a proposal. That wasn’t what Aubrey was saying. Stacie knew that it couldn’t be because things with Weston’s death were still being resolved.  It was all still so very complicated.  And her family was so…disappointing. So she knew Aubrey didn’t mean it the way it sounded but she couldn’t help the way her heart skipped a beat at thought of a forever with the blonde.

“Oh then we better plan a trip to Vegas.”

It wasn’t until it was out of her mouth that she realized how it sounded. She had meant it to be a joke about gambling but once it was spoken it felt like something more. They sat there, eyes searching, gazing at each other before the moment was broken by August’s harsh derisive chuckle.

“You’d probably like that wouldn’t you, bartender?” Stacie could feel the hot flush of anger creeping up her face because she knew where this was heading. She had thought they had been keeping their voices low enough to not be heard but she had underestimated her August’s attention to them. Her father leaned back in his chair with a condescending smirk. “You’d marry into real money and that’s what you want isn’t it? Tapping a new stream of revenue?”

Distantly she was aware of the clatter of her mother’s fork hitting her plate and the hushed whispers as various guests immediately began gossiping about the scene playing out before them. It made her sick with humiliation and her temper got the better of her.

“Are you seriously implying that Aubrey is a gold digger?” He didn’t say anything but the silence was enough. Stacie scoffed and pushed her chair back a bit from the table. “You know what, dad, I don’t care what you think. I’d marry her tomorrow if she asked.”

Another titter of exclamation around the table and at least one gasp of surprise, likely from her mother, made Stacie glance around. No one would meet her eye but they were all aware of what was happening. Aubrey cleared her throat and gave a slight pout.

“I was hoping for an early spring wedding by the beach but… you have to sign my prenup first.”

Laughter broke out in spatters at Aubrey’s droll tone and the tension in the room dropped perceptibly. People carried on with conversations as they leaned back, relaxed and waited to be served the next course. If he had hoped to provoke Aubrey into a fit of anger, or to shame her into submission, it had backfired. The blonde’s natural charisma and confidence had already earned her some respect from the assembled group but her complete lack of concern in the face of her father’s open hostility had really won people over.

Stacie had never wanted to walk out of somewhere as badly as she wanted to leave her parent’s home right then but she didn’t want to give either of them the satisfaction of having run her off. August’s lip curled before he carefully schooled his features into a bland mask. It was a little too late to pretend he hadn’t caused a scene and it gave her a savage satisfaction to know that things weren’t going according to his plan.

Aubrey took her hand again and everything else faded away. It didn’t matter what anyone thought, she knew how they felt about each other. And even if they never actually got married…this was enough. This was everything.

[ladymdc]

The Seventh Circle

I don’t usually do a lot of fic promoting, however, since this is a joint endeavor with my amazing fren @dismalzelenka​​, I’m going to do it 🙃

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe x Reyna Cousland AND Anders x Adrestia Tabris Rating: Explicit (will have canon-typical violence & probably smut) Word Count (at the moment): ~2,900 Chapters: 1/? Summary: Run if you can. Madness has filled the silence. Do not return to this place.

[A modern w/magic AU where the Wardens & darkspawn are a myth, a bedtime story parents tell their children. However, an incident in the Western Approach sends Reyna Cousland and Adrestia Tabris on a search to uncover a truth lost to time and secrecy before it's too late to stop events from spiraling further out of control. Reyna belongs to MC & Adrestia belongs to Diz.]

We’ll be tossing updates up on Ao3 (here) whenever the muse strikes us. CH.1 is under the cut for funsies.

Solace 20:19

Reyna Cousland placed her sunglasses in the center console and got out of the vehicle. The estate was lovely in summer, lush and beautiful. She couldn’t deny it, but the beauty felt bitter and false as she took it in.

She opened the back door to let Acheron out then wordlessly led him up the flagstone path to the manor. At the dark walnut doors on the veranda, she paused. She just needed a moment to brace herself. To prepare for what she was about to face.

Inside, the foyer was well lit and immaculate. A circular table sat in the middle of the open area. On it, there was a large bouquet of dark blue flowers interspersed with olive branches—a play on the colors of their house.

Pride.  

It was a double-edged weapon, just as able to drive one to succeed as to destroy them.

When she looked up, she found her father standing in the doorway to the breakfast nook. His eyes were a stormy grey. Calm, yet powerful; precisely contained—never show weakness or fear.

Conquered By None.  

“Reyna,” he said, absently scratching Acheron’s ear. “Take a walk with me.”

Reyna nodded stiffly and followed after her father. He led her outside then along one of the lanes lined with trees heavy with plums ripe for picking. Her father didn’t make any effort to converse until they were well away from the manor.

“I don’t want you to transfer,” he abruptly declared.

She had already decided to walk pride’s razor edge and told her father as such. “It has already been approved. I leave in two weeks.”

Her father came to a halt as his expression grew bitterly resigned as if preparing himself to be stuck on some quarter.

“I had it on good authority that General Howe—” her lip curled up with disdain of its own volition, “—was going to send me there to add insult to injury. This way, I control the narrative.”

There was a long silence. Her father stared down the lane, his eyes far away.

“What happened should not affect your career,” he said eventually, turning to look down at her. “It had nothing to do with you.”

The betrayal had been so exacting and deeply personal that she could barely bring herself to think about it.

“It has everything to do with me,” Reyna told him. “I am a Cousland.”

“True.” A slow smile curved his lips. Then it vanished, and he glanced away.

But Reyna saw it, the sudden lines of tension around his eyes.

“So, the narrative; what do you need me to do to help offset—” he flicked his hand dismissively at his side, “—everything?”

Reyna blinked. “I don’t need you to do anything,” she said in a tight voice. “Did you really think I was going to distance myself from you? A Cousland always does their duty. You taught me that. You did your duty, and now, it’s my turn.”

Her father nodded thoughtfully. The sunlight catching his hair, silvered with age.

“You know, just when I think I couldn’t be more proud of you, you prove me wrong.”

Her throat tightened so much it was hard to swallow. She managed to tip her chin down in acknowledgment.

When she was a little girl, Reyna had thought he was cold. However, as she matured, she realized he wasn’t unfeeling. Her father felt things; he just did so privately.

In that regard, they were alike; driven by emotions, but never allowed them to dictate. The head always won out over the heart. At least, until General Bryce Cousland was court-martialed for insubordination and suspended without pay for five years.

Then everything changed.

While she composed herself, her father made a convincing job of admiring the blooming hydrangeas. Reyna knew he was proud of her. She never questioned that. But being reminded of it as she tried to be his steady rock in a sea of shifting alliances was overwhelming.

“Come,” he said, briefly placing his hand between her shoulder blades when she stepped up next to him a moment later. “Let’s finish our stroll through the gardens before your mother decides to hunt us down.”

“Did she also assume I was going to cast you aside like some black stain on my career that I couldn’t wait to expunge?” she asked dryly as they began walking down the return lane.

The corner of his mouth twitched faintly. “She didn’t. I believe she just wanted the satisfaction of being present when I was proved wrong. Thank you for allowing myself to be spared further embarrassment.”

Reyna smiled then. Truly smiled for what felt like the first time in months.

Her father chuckled. “In my defense, neither of us have handled this exceptionally well, and I’m unaccustomed to you being—angry.”

Through it all, her father had appeared unaffected. If Reyna had been less angry herself, she might have believed it, but their personalities were basically the same. Which, oddly enough, left her uncertain how to address the strain that had asserted itself between them. But there was an instant comfort she found in learning that it was all misplaced, that he had simply felt as lost as her.

“Likewise,” she said. “I wasn’t sure how this conversation was going to go when you asked me to come home to discuss it.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. It’s just easier to discern what is going on in your head when we speak face to face. And we’ve avoided the general topic long enough.”

“I agree. I shouldn’t have tried to talk about it over the phone. I just didn’t want you to hear about my transfer from anyone else and misunderstand. Obviously, that backfired.”

“That is on me, not you,” he said as they began to ascend the large stone steps up to the patio.

Reyna’s mother was setting the small table in the breakfast nook when they stepped inside. Her parents stared at one another for a moment, then her mother arched a single blonde eyebrow.

“It is as you said, Eleanor,” he allowed drolly.

A slow cat-like smile graced her mother’s lips. “Welcome home, Reyna,” she said, stepping forward to give her daughter a quick hug. “Lunch is almost ready, I’m just finishing up the chicken.”

“Do you need any help?”

“Not at all. It’ll take me ten minutes, tops.”

Her father nodded. “Alright, then I’ll be right back,” he said. Then he turned and walked out of the room. Her mother’s blue eyes glittered knowingly before exiting through the adjacent door leading to the kitchen.

Reyna shrugged inwardly before taking a seat. At her elbow, she found today’s newspaper. Something twisted inside her as she read the headline on the front page.

CONTROVERSIAL DRILLING RIG IN ABYSSAL RIFT TO BEGIN OPERATIONS IN EARLY AUGUST 

‘Rift Platform 52’, or ‘P-52’, is expected to launch operations on Saturday, August 6th, according to a press release by Antonius Faber, CEO of OFT Enterprises. 

This venture is made possible thanks to Orzammar based Paragon Branka Kondrat’s revolutionary structural engineering research. This state of the art drilling facility, the most advanced of its kind to date, is affixed to the cliff-side of the Abyssal Rift using massive caissons and a carefully threaded steel cable suspension system. It is roughly the size of a 15-story building and will deploy three separate drilling units to depths of up to 5,000 meters. P-52 is expected to reach oil reserves that have remained untapped for centuries due to the unstable landscape of the Western Approach and widespread environmental toxicity located within the Rift itself. 

While few would question the wealth of resources finally available, Ferelden concerns on the matter initially went largely unheard until King Cailan Theirin and Empress Celene Valmont established the Great Orlais-Ferelden Oil Alliance earlier this year. 

In exchange—  

Reyna heard footsteps and looked up as her father reentered the room.

His eyes flicked from hers down to the newspaper. He stared at it for several seconds, then sighed.

“For once, I’m not mentioned.”

Reyna nodded, keeping her expression carefully closed as she quietly seethed.

On the surface, increasing oil imports from Orlais at a lesser cost in exchange for military support in the hazardous environment seemed to make good sense. However, production sharing agreements were horrendously advantageous to the host country. The host country did not need to make a significant amount of investment for exploration or production activities because the oil company carried all operational and financial costs and risks. Then, if that weren’t enough, the host country gleaned knowledge, technological advances, and expertise through the agreement.

In summation, the host country— Orlais —would reap endless benefits and profits from this groundbreaking endeavor.

Ferelden would be guaranteed access to cheap oil, and nothing more. This was a fact her father had bluntly relayed to some reporters at the persuasion of his lifelong friend, Rendon Howe, who then used the souring tide of public opinion in the matter to motivate King Cailan to call for his court-martial. It succeeded.

Predictably, Rendon was promoted to take his place.

Reyna rolled her jaw and forced herself to set aside her sudden rage.

“It’s fine, Reyna; I shall live on,” he said, crossing the room.

“We shall live on,” she corrected.

“Precisely.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“I have something for you,” he said, then reached into his pocket and withdrew two metal, half-inch bands inlaid with runes.

She looked up at her father in astonishment.

He smirked, then held out his empty hand to her. “As you said, it’s your turn.”

“I can’t accept that.”

“It was always going to be yours someday,” he said, then beckoned with his fingers to encourage her along.

At that, Reyna swallowed down the rest of her objections and let him help her to stand; Acheron perked up from where he was doing a rather good job at blending in with the wood flooring.

“Part of why I asked you here today was to tell you that I’m resigning from the service,” he told her, slipping the bands onto her left arm.

“When did you make that decision?”

“When the verdict was handed down. I was just waiting for the news cycle to die down. None of this was supposed to be about me.” He began to precisely situate one on her forearm just a couple inches from her elbow; the other was dangling from her wrist like an oversized bracelet.

“It was about Ferelden, and I did right by her,” he said. “That is all that matters.”

Reyna slowly nodded. She understood the implications behind the decision. Going along with it all would be as good as admitting wrongdoing.

Once in position, the bands resized themselves to her perfectly where they would remain unless she went in to have them reset and removed. Reyna could tell there were enchantments woven into the silverite to prevent her arm from chafing and to keep it the ideal temperature.

“Can you feel it?”

Now that he mentioned it, Reyna could recognize a presence pressing against the outside of her forearm. “I can tell I’m connected to it, but I can’t tell how to make it do anything.”

“It takes some getting used to. You’ll just have to practice.” He took two steps back. “Curl your fingers in one at a time, starting with your pinky, and you’ll be able to separate it out better.”

Reyna took a deep, even breath and did as instructed. As her thumb curled inward, she felt it.

The semi-translucent, iridescent blue field flickered to life for a half-second, then vanished.

Her father smiled proudly, and Reyna could feel the pressure in her cheeks and eyes as she struggled not to cry over it.

She knew what it looked like in its full corporeal form. A modernized replica of the shields their ancestors used to carry back in the Dragon Age. It had been a gift from the late King Maric Theirin when her father was knighted for exceptional services to the Crown. In that alone, it was priceless, and yet astronomical amounts of time and effort and magic went into making the one of a kind device.

She parted her lips to speak—

“Don’t thank me, and I won’t…” he trailed off and waved a hand.

Reyna exhaled; part relief, part amusement. “Deal.”

“Good,” he said, shoulders dropping as if he had also found the entire conversation emotionally draining. But then her father put his arm around her and pulled her in for a quick, slightly awkward half-embrace.

As if awaiting this cue, her mother breezed back into the room to begin serving lunch: garlic bread and caprese chicken avocado salad with a balsamic reduction. Reyna’s mouth quirked at the corner when Acheron dug in. It always did. Without fail, he happily ate anything her mother put in front of him.

Later, Reyna would sit in her West Hill apartment and think back on the meal. In that moment, they had all but forgotten what had happened. The only deviation from the thousands of other meals they’ve shared in that room was the bands were affixed to her arm instead of her father’s. Where they should be.

Reyna idly traced the runes wrapped around her wrist.

All this time, she had been supportive but distant, trying to separate out her own personal turmoil over the matter so her father wouldn’t carry that too. He had done so anyway. Penance perhaps for negatively affecting her career, one he knew she didn’t even want even though Reyna had never admitted it.

At least, they managed to set things right. It was far past time, but neither of them were much good at talking about how they felt.

“I think we should stay at the manor until we leave,” she said suddenly.

Acheron barked, stump waggling, and Reyna reached for her phone.

It was a strange feeling, to move back into her childhood home. A home she loved and would someday inherit to become Lady of the Manor. A fact that made her painfully aware while she was an heir, she was not a true heir. No matter what she did, the Cousland name would die with her.

Reyna tried not to think about it.

Instead, she read, ran with Acheron, and cooked with her mother. She practiced activating the shield, which was like strengthening a part of her she hadn’t known existed and had muscle atrophy as a result. Reyna and her father even discussed potential ways she could excel in her new post, to climb rank despite the looming expectation that she stall out or quit.

When Reyna left, it was as if she’d be back the next day. Goodbyes were another thing they weren’t very good at.

The flight was uneventful, as was settling into her new place in Valemont. A two-bedroom, 1.5 bath duplex with exactly one parking space designated as hers behind the home, which was all she needed.

There were some incredulous looks when 2ndLt. Cousland provided her identification at the gates of Griffon Wing Army Base the following Monday, but Reyna ignored it. Then she parked her new jeep and slung her bag onto her shoulder before dropping Acheron off for training on the local wildlife. And now, she made her way deeper into the facility in search of her office.

As she rounded a corner on the third floor, she allowed herself a quick glance around, taking in the layout. Reyna stiffened when she saw him. Seeing her certainly hadn’t seemed to surprise or upset him.

He’d been waiting for it.

Howe simply leaned back on his heels and studied her, his eyes bright as they swept over her in a rapid catalog, lingering a moment on the band visible around her left wrist. Nothing about him had changed since she’d last seen him, and yet she could feel the weight of everything that had in the air between them.

He hadn’t tried to contact her.

Not once.

Whatever they’d been had never been defined. Not friends, but something that had mattered enough for Reyna to feel a growing well of hurt as she blankly met his stare. Not that it mattered.

None of it had ever mattered.

Eventually, Howe looked down, and his lips thinned. Then his posture shifted slightly. There was something he was trying to communicate to her, and her grey eyes flicked over to the plaque on the door he stood nearest to.

316 2ndLt. Nathaniel Howe  

Her mouth twisted derisively. Of course, their offices would be across the hall from one another. She should have expected it.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Howe twitch, and his expression harden.

Reyna turned on her heel and entered her office.

She set her bag down and went to the window. The Western Approach was a sea of unstable, shifting sands, rocky ridges, and strong, howling winds. On the horizon, P-52 sat in the middle of a steel web. Without a doubt, this office was also chosen to remind her how she got here.

She should be enraged, but she couldn’t summon it. She hadn’t realized how powerless she was to fight her circumstances until that moment.

People did not believe in facts. Order and truth could be tarnished.

She didn’t know how to rise above it, but she would still try.

She sank into the chair at her desk and went to work.

[thebluelemontree]

Is it right for fandom to frame the conflict as Catelyn's feelings versus Jon's safety? A child's safety is of course a priority, so framing it this means we can't consider what Catelyn is going through at all because what kind of monsters would prioritise an adult's feelings over a child's safety?

No, because framing every conflict as either/or and everyone picks a side is an unproductive conversation with no resolution or gain in understanding.  Some people in the fandom need to chill the fuck out.  Let’s remember that as much as we love Jon, he’s not a real person.  There are no actual abused children at stake here.  We can afford to take a step back and look at all the factors in play. Catelyn just doesn’t go around being terrible to everyone.  She isn’t a naturally cruel person.  Jon is her one sore spot that makes her irrationally paranoid.  Of course there is nothing right or okay about that; however, there are more complicated reasons for that than just the fact that he’s a bastard and she has a bastard prejudice. Understanding why something happened the way it did is not a failure of priorities or an attempt to justify Catelyn behavior toward Jon.  We can expand our scope to include:  

the pressure of fucked up social norms that places a humiliating neon flashing sign over Ned’s infidelity and teaches people to view Jon as having corruption in his “black blood.”

Ned’s overreactive mishandling of Catelyn’s initial attempt to be understanding about the whole thing.  How the patriarchy allows him to get away with this and how Catelyn is obligated to submit to her husband even when he’s wronging her.  This is a crucial event because Catelyn didn’t start out being irrationally paranoid about Jon.  Shocked and disconcerted, yes, but she tried to deal with the situation in a mature, sensitive way, open to being understanding about his reasons so she could at least move forward with the air clear.  Ned’s violent shutdown was where those seeds of fervent resentment toward Jon personally really sown.        

Ned using his authority to thereafter make Jon’s mother a taboo subject and a crime for which the penalty is catching the lord’s wrath.  So Catelyn wasn’t the only one creating a climate of tension and suspicion around Jon. 

Ned’s enforced silence keeping everyone in a state of confusion, misunderstanding, and shame that leads BOTH Jon and Catelyn to fill in the blanks with their most fearful assumptions.  That’s another thing too. Ned’s refusal to tell Jon anything about his mother is psychological abuse.  It fills Jon with a deep sense of shame and guilt about his existence because he believes he is the embodiment of the ONE stain on Ned Stark’s unimpeachable honor.

Ned’s failure to use his authority to intervene on Jon’s behalf so that he is treated with basic human decency and respect by Catelyn.

That the intentions behind Ned’s continued lying and withholding of information are not entirely noble or for Jon’s greater good, especially as years go by.  Ned, being a flawed human, doesn’t want to have that hard conversation where he has to confess to his beloved wife that he lied to her, put her through a hell that made her feel like she was never going to measure up to this other woman, and face her potentially relationship-ending anger and hurt.  It makes him look like a complete asshole, so his continued silence and avoidance is a way to control Catelyn’s perception of him and the truth.  Same goes for Jon. 

And all those things feed into the dynamic between Catelyn and Jon because as I stated before Catelyn and Ned’s marital history is intrinsically related to that dynamic.  There’s a lot to tease apart, and I don’t believe they can be treated as entirely separate issues.  Finding empathy for certain aspects of Catelyn’s position and perspective does not mean anyone is taking any empathy away from Jon or wrongly prioritizing Catelyn’s feelings at the expense of Jon’s safety.  Empathy is not a finite resource that must be allocated to a single, totally innocent party.  As a fandom, it would be nice if we just took it as a given that most of us are decent people that are aware that all forms of child abuse are wrong and that we do hold abusers 100% accountable for their decision to abuse.  I mean, unless we’re dealing with some fruitcake that states explicitly that Catelyn was justified in treating Jon that way.  But that opinion isn’t the norm and can be simply ignored as stupid.  So while Catelyn is 100% responsible for her decision to abuse Jon, we can still acknowledge how she arrived at harboring these intense anxieties about him that are motivating her actions.  Because Catelyn is not normally a cruel, unempathetic, or irrational person.  We established she can be very level-headed, calm, and understanding most of the time.  She massively fails in this one specific area and we should want to know why.  And it isn’t fair to hold Ned, the other adult character who had a direct hand in the situation, to a significantly lower threshold of responsibility.  They deserve an equal measure of criticism as well as understanding.        

The subject of child abuse is very triggering, and of course, our empathy goes out to Jon first and foremost.  As it should.  He did absolutely nothing wrong.  None of this is his fault.  I take it as a given that most people who question extending any empathy and understanding at all to Catelyn are coming at it from a well-meaning place.  Child abuse in real life is appalling, and our gut reaction is to paint the abuser as an inhuman monster who isn’t worthy of any consideration.  I certainly don’t shed any tears for those people, and I have called DCF on some rotten parents before.  But again, Jon is not a real person in need of immediate protection by real people.  His abuse is fictional and there are no real stakes here.  We can take our time to get at what Martin is trying to say with fundamentally good and decent characters who may sometimes betray their own nature by acting terrible for horrible reasons.  Seeking to understand a complicated issue like the tragic dynamics at WF is not akin to abuse apologism if it is handled with temperance and careful consideration.  We can still prioritize how we spread around our sympathies.  Prioritizing does not mean the top concern makes all other concerns irrelevant or invalid.  I do believe most people want to look at the characters fairly and want to have their first-reading assumptions challenged or expanded upon.   

What can escalate into nasty behavior and have a real negative impact on people is when some fans accuse other fans as being monstrous for empathizing with a character that they don’t like.  This is not coming from a well-meaning place and it happens way too damn often when they’ve spent too much time deep diving into the fandom without coming up for air.  Publically calling into question a fandom member’s morality is an attempt to discredit them and the conversation if it smells suspiciously of nuance and humanizing A Bad Person.  Framing any conflict as either/or or black and white means you have to pick and side and you are defined by that choice.  Sometimes people do this simply out of ignorance, limited perspective, and the desire to be viewed as a good person.  We’re unfortunately in an age where people (especially young people) are under pressure to project a spotlessly good and woke online persona because if you fuck up even a tiny bit, strangers on the internet are gonna come for your blood.  That’s where things can take a very ironic turn where they become the morality police, interrogating and browbeating other people so they show the world what side they are on.  Over fictional characters ffs!  If you find yourself turning blue in the face over something, it might be time to come up for air.  Just sayin.                        

[realtalk-princeton]

why are people in our generation so sensitive

Response from Opal:

I am not 100% sure as to what you mean by “sensitive,” but generally, when people ascribe that word to a demographic as sweeping as “our generation,” they are alluding to a perceived trend of overzealous “political correctness” or something adjacent to that. Therefore, I will assume that you are doing the same.  Why is our generation so sensitive? I will be upfront with you and say that I have personally had my fill of people telling me, on the Internet or at lecture events or across the dinner table, that something is wrong with the youth of America today who are so keen to fuss, agitate, and voice their discontent about the state of the world. “Sensitive” is actually a pretty spot-on descriptor for us, but it does not mean, as those same people often imply, that we get upset all the time over nothing of actual import and cannot tolerate being exposed to different ideas. Rather, it means that we are more attuned to what is unjust and what helps perpetuate that injustice, and that we are actually in a position to speak up and do something about it sometimes. We have always lived in a society bounded by structural oppression, and we have always had people who recognized this, fighting to liberate their minds and their bodies from the systems that give certain individuals indisputable and unethical power over others. There is nothing unique about the malcontent of our generation in that sense; we are simply able to build upon the work done in the past to expand our current understandings of what is wrong and what we must change. Just because some of those things are personally not relatable to people from older generations or in power does not mean that they are not real, creating real repercussions on the real lives of real human beings. Those who get the short end of the stick in an unjust society are the ones who are most knowledgeable about the various ways in which it manifests injustice in the first place, and we are doing nothing more than continuing to unlearn harmful internalizations and protect each other by listening to what those important, historically marginalized voices have to say. I am afraid that this whole spiel may be getting a little convoluted, so I apologize and will just leave you with this: Systemic oppression is powerful and pervasive enough to permeate all aspects of our lives, our social institutions, and our interactions with each other, and it is so multitudinous that we are a long ways away from knowing all there is to know about identifying, resisting, and undoing it. Progress, by definition, is made whenever we take another step away from a status quo that does not allow all of us to live freely, but these acts of disobedience will always appear obnoxious, irritating, and uncalled-for, because society as a whole is so conditioned to buy into the narratives of power, and because wherever there is inequality, those who benefit from it will feel threatened by calls for change. I hope our generation stays sensitive. I hope we keep getting better at uplifting each other by refusing to accept subjugation and all its tools - large and small, institutional and interpersonal, conscious and unconscious, obvious and subtle.

Response by Alito:

re: Opal. 71% of Americans believe “political correctness is a problem in America today.” Things have definitely gone overboard from the eyes of an average American (maybe not a Princeton student considering demographics). 

Americans ideals have drastically shifted as a result of generational change. In my theory, Millennials and subsequently our generation wants to “minimize hurt feelings.” While Gen X prides itself in resilience and grit, Millennials and proceeding generations took “tolerance and inclusiveness” and ran w/ it (cough participation trophies cough), making it a “centerpiece” of their “progressive” ideology. Whether that’s now too extreme or not is for you do decide. 

This from my viewpoint has led to extremely “progressive” views being pushed while other narratives that don’t conform 100% to the PC progressive narrative be demonized and deemed “hateful,” when they could potentially be valid. It’s led to a closed-minded/“you versus me” mentality where when one’s view is challenged, he or she personally takes offense (and assumes the incorrectness of the opposing party) rather than trying to debate why one believes his or her view is valid. It’s led to the rise of dangerous authoritarian ideals, like censoring speech. To be specific, censoring any speech not conforming to the “progressive” political viewpoint. It has led to the loss of respect for the rule of law in the name of “feelings” and “progressivism.” Personally, the avoidance (voluntary or forced) of challenging ideas for the sake of “feelings” is indefensible. The Vatican has the Devil’s Advocate for a reason. 

When I first arrived at Princeton, I was quite shocked to see Princeton students call for the death of free speech and anything that is mildly against the Progressive narrative. I have heard students advocating for the hijacking/weaponization an entire academic department for pushing their own political views. This is horrific considering the purpose of academia is original research to discover new things, not confirm preexisting biases. The disinvitation of Amy Wax from a Whig-Clio event on the freedom of speech, followed by the hosting of comedian Chelsea Handler to discuss “wokeness and white privilege” (along with a slew of other spotlighted events covering everything from Marxism to reparations for the black community), is just one of the examples I’ve encountered regarding this phenomenon here. 

Sorry, I’m v tired rn and my words might not make much sense. I’ll follow up later and maybe extend this response, but this is what I have for now. 

Response from Opal:

re: Alito. There is a lot going on here! I will not respond to all of it, because I have no desire to turn this particular post into a massive debate, but I do think it is important to note that criticizing, protesting, and reacting negatively to certain individuals or viewpoints, both on this campus and anywhere else, does not constitute censorship. We are all entitled to say what we want, but we are not entitled to other people accepting, engaging with, or even listening to us, and that is not to be confused with “the death of free speech.” The disinvitation of a speaker for a campus event, while perhaps a breach of decorum, does not inhibit that speaker’s actual ability to maintain and express their beliefs - especially not Amy Wax, who has multiple publications and a professorship to her name. The Constitutional right to freedom of speech is not a right to an audience, and it is therefore a non sequitur to label all ideological backlash and avoidance as morally wrong because they are violations of free speech. 

It is more pertinent to examine the kinds of ideas that you observe to be either drawing fire or largely ignored. To this, I will say that the sensitivity of our generation is much less about “minimizing hurt feelings” than it is about resisting ideas, narratives, and beliefs that threaten the humanity or existence of entire demographics of people. As a queer woman of color, I believe that my right to move freely through the world, fully as myself, supersedes the rights of others to tell me that my identities make me inferior, subordinate, undeserving, or wrong WHILE expecting that I will not raise a stink about it. Such words are inextricably linked to literal violence and oppression, and listening to them creates pain and fear that go far beyond “hurt feelings.” Say that my poetry is bad, my nose is too wide, or my love for ABBA is embarrassing if you want to hurt my feelings. Say that I am less of a human being than you are, and the Vatican will not even need to supply an advocate for the devil because he just spoke to me directly. Screw “tolerance and inclusivity” - I demand respect and reciprocity. We all do. And I am tired of rhetoric that delegitimizes my demands.

Response from Alito:

re: Opal. 

“I have no desire to turn this particular post into a massive debate”

Likewise

“criticizing, protesting, and reacting negatively to certain individuals or viewpoints, both on this campus and anywhere else, does not constitute censorship.”

Of course! However, I think you are fundamentally misunderstanding the issue at hand. The problem with the Whig-Clio incident is that individuals with a degree of authority disinviting speakers cannot be simply accepted as a “protest or criticism,” it’s the literal depravation of a forum for public debate and criticism. We never knew what Amy Wax would have said about free speech. Whig-Clio’s actions were even denounced by Eisgruber I believe. We are depriving her of her voice and her ability to express her opinions as a result of her previous statements. This has nothing to do with audiences, and that is a grave misrepresentation/straw man. 

Also, for speech to be speech, wouldn’t we need an audience? If we don’t have one, it would literally be talking to ourselves… I think that’s what the Founding Fathers meant as speech. 

Let me just say I find students here particularly hypocritical how and to the extent they decide free speech is applied depending on political ideology and opinions taken (the specific issue I would mention is like a nuclear bomb rn, so I won’t). Let me just say a lot of conservative/libertarian ideals and censored and shunned when they could merit DEBATE and value

I won’t respond to your proceeding argument because I don’t wish to start a flamewar, but we shouldn’t ignore 71% of Americans and how they think. 

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Author : Anthony William Publisher : Hay House ISBN : 1401962874 Publication Date : 2021-3-23 Language : Pages : 488

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From the #1 New York Times best-selling author of the Medical Medium series, a revised and expanded edition of the book that started a health revolution.Anthony William, the Medical Medium, has helped millions of people heal from ailments that have been misdiagnosed or ineffectively treated or that doctors can't resolve on their own. Now he returns with an elevated and expanded edition of the book where he first opened the door to healing knowledge from over 30 years of bringing people's lives back. With a massive amount of healing information that science won't discover for decades, Anthony gets to the root of people's pain or illness and what they need to do to restore their health now--which has never been more important. His tools and protocols achieve spectacular results, even for those who have spent years and many thousands of dollars on all forms of medicine before turning to him. They are the answers to rising from the ashes.Medical Medium reveals the true causes of chronic symptoms, conditions, and diseases that medical communities continue to misunderstand or struggle to understand at all. It explores the solutions for dozens of the illnesses that plague us, including Lyme disease, fibromyalgia, adrenal fatigue, ME/CFS, hormonal imbalances, Hashimoto's disease, MS, RA, depression, neurological conditions, chronic inflammation, autoimmune disease, blood sugar imbalances, colitis and other digestive disorders, and more. This elevated and expanded edition also offers further immune support, brand-new recipes, and even more solutions for restoring the soul and spirit after illness or life events have torn at our emotional fabric. Whether you've been given a diagnosis you don't understand, or you have symptoms you don't know how to heal, or someone you love is sick, or you're a doctor who wants to care for your own patients better, Medical Medium offers the answers you need. It's also a guidebook for everyone seeking the secrets to living longer, healthier lives.Discover the reasons we suffer and how to finally heal from more than two dozen common conditions:ACHES & PAINSADHDADRENAL FATIGUEAGINGALZHEIMER'SAUTISMAUTOIMMUNE DISEASEBELL'S PALSYBRAIN FOGCANDIDACHRONIC FATIGUE SYNDROMECOLITISDEPRESSION & ANXIETYDIABETES & HYPOGLYCEMIADIGESTIVE DISORDERSDIZZINESSEPSTEIN-BARR VIRUSFIBROMYALGIAFROZEN SHOULDERINFLAMMATIONLEAKY GUT SYNDROMELUPUSLYME DISEASEMENOPAUSAL SYMPTOMSMIGRAINES & HEADACHESMULTIPLE SCLEROSISNEUROLOGICAL SYMPTOMSPMSPOSTPARTUM FATIGUEPTSDRHEUMATOID ARTHRITISSHINGLESTHYROID DISORDERSTINGLES & NUMBNESSTMJ & JAW PAINVERTIGO & TINNITUSThe truth about the world, ourselves, life, purpose--it all comes down to healing, Anthony William writes. And the truth about healing is now in your hands.

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Author : Anthony William Publisher : Hay House ISBN : 1401962874 Publication Date : 2021-3-23 Language : Pages : 488

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[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

The Vindication of Venom Part 3: Expectations

Part 2

Part 4

Now its time to get down to the real business of this essay and tackle the most vocal and frequent criticisms of Venom. Namely his original host Eddie Brock and his motives for hating Spider-Man. The first step to doing this though is to establish the expectations fans had for the character vs the actual intended concept behind him.

In part one I listed what I feel are the major criticisms of Venom and how I intended to address them one by one. In really thinking about it though I’ve realized that course of action would prove too difficult to properly dive into my points about Brock. Many of the criticisms surrounding him and many of my counterpoints to those criticisms are too interlinked with one another to be separated out like that.

As such I’m just going to talk about Brock more generally.

But as a reminder here are the points about him which I listed in Part 1:

·         Eddie Brock’s motivations for hating Spider-Man are weak and make no sense

·         Brock’s origin story involves rewriting events from the Sin Eater storyline to facilitate his fall from grace

·         Brock was a previously unknown character who is unconnected to Peter Parker’s life in or out of his costume.

·         The reveal of Brock as Venom, especially in light of previous two points, is a bad resolution to the mystery story seeded in issues leading to ASM #300

·         Other versions of the character (such as Spider-Man the Animated Series, Spider-Man 3 and the Spectacular Spider-Man Animated Series) all make Brock to be a much better dark reflection of Spider-Man than the original comic book version

In my introduction I stated that my thesis for defending Venom was that he was more poorly communicated and readers projected unwarranted expectations onto the character. Brock is really where those two aspects come to the forefront.

Venom visually looks like Spider-Man, or rather how Spider-Man had looked for a few year before ASM #300 given that he’d off and on been wearing the black costume. In ASM #300 Venom also displayed enhanced strength and speed as well as the ability to wall-crawl and generate webbing. Half of Venom came from the alien symbiote which had in the past granted other hosts abilities similar to Spider-Man.

And of course Venom’s primary colour was black, a colour commonly associated with evil in Western cultures. 

 It is my belief that all these things combined caused readers upon learning someone else had the symbiote and consequently in seeing Venom himself, to expect the character to be a kind of evil Spider-Man, a dark reflection of the character.

 This expectation coupled with his shadowy build up and debut in ASM #299-300 heightened fan anticipation for the character to be a big, big, big deal. Far bigger I think than if he had debuted in any given issue of Spider-Man that wasn’t a milestone of some kind, especially if it happened in Web of Spider-Man (the youngest Spider title) as originally intended.

 After all, an evil version of the hero is a time honoured tradition (especially in superhero comics) and one that for Spider-Man had never directly been instigated in his then 25+ years of publication. The lack of such an archetype in the series for such a long time might possibly have further enhanced fan anticipation to finally see such a character in the pages of Marvel’s flagship character. And for that type of character to debut in such a momentous issue as ASM #300 meant readers were hyped to say the least.

 Given these expectations it is no wonder that the character on the page proved disappointing to them.

 Furthermore, readers from later generations would have their own set of expectations for the Venom character.

 For many fans of Spider-Man of my generation (I was born in the early 1990s), we learned of Venom from the numerous merchandise he was featured on and more importantly from the 1994 Spider-Man animated series. Among the things the cartoon innovated when it came to Venom was the ideas that the costume brought out the darkside of its host, that Eddie Brock was an established member of Spider-Man’s supporting cast before he became Venom and that he blamed Spider-Man for ruining his life due to a series of misunderstandings.

 So impactful and definitive was this version of Venom that elements from it were featured in consequent adaptations (including Spider-Man 3 and the Spectacular Spider-Man TV show) and various comic renditions of the character (e.g. Ultimate Spider-Man).

 In fact the 1994 cartoon version made such a potent impression that there are long time Spider-Man fans who were around during the original debut of the black costume who believe that those original comics contained elements from the 90s cartoon’s take on the symbiote, chiefly the notion of the costume as a corrupting influence on Spider-Man.

For those fans and the ones of consequent generations Venom is on the Mount Rushmore of Spider-Man characters and villains, definitively standing alongside Green Goblin and Doc Ock as the A-listers of Spider-Man’s rogue’s gallery.

 Now something very important to note going forward is the fact that adaptations such as Ultimate Spider-Man, Spider-Man 3 and the Spectacular Spider-Man Animated Series all played Venom/Brock as something of a dark reflection of Spider-Man/Peter Parker.

 In USM and the Spec cartoon Peter and Eddie were childhood friends who’s fathers worked together and died in the same plane accident, both later following in their fathers’ footsteps becoming science students themselves.

 In USM whilst Peter was presented as a pretty nice kid still very much in love with his recent ex-girlfriend Mary Jane Watson, Brock was presented as a college aged creep who tried to take advantage of the underage high schooler Gwen Stacy (who’d recently lost her father) and derided her as a ‘tease’. 

In this version of the story, the alien costume is actually a lab created ‘suit’ Peter and Eddie’s fathers were working on, based upon Richard Parker’s DNA. When Peter wears the suit it mostly works fine but affects his emotions and transforms him into a monster resembling Venom. When Brock wears the suit, partially due to it not being based upon his DNA and partially due to his own mind and emotions, he becomes an even worse monster with even less control than Peter had.

Meanwhile in the Spec cartoon a stark difference is drawn between Peter and Eddie by virtue of, following the deaths of their parents, Eddie being raised alone whilst Peter had Uncle Ben and Aunt May and by extension Eddie becoming somewhat ‘in love’ with death whilst Peter came to appreciate life.

 In Spider-Man 3 Eddie Brock was a Bugle photographer like Peter Parker (who was around a similar age), interested in Spider-Man pictures and also loved a beautiful woman from afar (Gwen Stacy), which was not dissimilar to Peter’s feelings for Mary Jane in the previous two films.

 What must be remembered going forward was that the 1994 cartoon despite having Brock work at the Bugle (as a writer, not a photographer, although in one episode he did take a few photos) did not play Brock in any of the ways described above as far as being a dark reflection of Peter/Spider-Man is concerned. He wasn’t particularly concerned with chasing stories about Spider-Man, his attitude towards women was not compared or contrasted to Peter’s, he and Peter did not have any personal history, his parentage was never mentioned and he was most definitely not involved with science.

 With these portrayals in mind and his impact/legacy within the franchise as a whole many fans going back to check out the character’s true beginnings have been unpleasantly surprised to find Venom and his origin a far cry from what they knew or expected.

 I think this plays a very major role in the derision Venom’s origin story has within the fandom as essentially many fans hold Venom in contempt for not being like their wider pop cultural understanding of the character. Or at least not like the version(s) they like and/or are familiar with from adaptations.

 In the comics the symbiote never acted as a corrupting force upon Spider-Man, Eddie Brock was not established ahead of his debut as Venom, was not someone Peter had a friendship with, there was no established animosity between the two characters, the symbiote did not act as a corrupting force on Brock turning an already bad person monstrous and Brock was never someone who operated as a dark reflection in the ways outlined above. The absence of all these things results in disappointment from readers who come to ASM #300 expecting to see them in some capacity.

 Whilst I feel a lot of these ‘unfulfilled expectations’ are not intentional on the part of fans it is nevertheless very unfair as a point of criticism. After all why should a character or story be regarded as bad because adaptations based upon it went in different directions? If anything, wouldn’t it be at least equally valid to lambast those adaptations of Venom from deviating so significantly from the source material?

 Regardless, my point is that Venom in ASM #300 fails to meet the expectations of fans from before and after the issue’s release for different reasons and that disappointment from both camps contributed to the dominant narrative of his origin being simply inherently bad.

 My proposal however is that those expectations projected onto Venom’s debut were misplaced and as such not fair criteria to evaluate the character against.

 That is to say I not believe Venom was ever conceived to be:

a genuine traditional mystery character

a dark reflection of Spider-Man (not in the way adaptations play him anyway)

someone who’d make a massive impact upon Spider-Man’s life

someone who’d hold an inherent connection to him.

 Think of it like this.

 When an audience member believes the piece of media they are consuming is (or is trying to be) one particular concept or genre they then (knowingly or otherwise) evaluate it based upon what they feel are the common tropes and ‘rules’ of that concept/genre.

  For example someone watching a romance movie will be judging it based upon how believable the romance at the centre of the story is, the chemistry between the actors, etc. But if someone walks into an action movie expecting it to be a romance film and continues to believe it is trying  to be a romance movie, the movie is going to seem bad to them. All because they missed the fact that it was never a romance movie to begin with. 

  This is what I believe is what happened with Venom.

 Through some unclear writing and quirks of fate a lot of people just missed what the intrinsic ideas behind the character were and in doing so used the wrong set of criteria to judge him by.

  Which raises the question of what exactly were the concepts underpinning the character then? For that you’ll have to read Part 4.

Part 2

Part 4

[casandrabookpdf]

Pdf [download]^^ Medical Medium Secrets Behind Chronic and Mystery Illness and How to Finally Heal (Revised and Expanded Edition) (P.D.F. FILE)

Pdf [download]^^ Medical Medium: Secrets Behind Chronic and Mystery Illness and How to Finally Heal (Revised and Expanded Edition) (> FILE*)

Medical Medium: Secrets Behind Chronic and Mystery Illness and How to Finally Heal (Revised and Expanded Edition)

[PDF] Download Medical Medium: Secrets Behind Chronic and Mystery Illness and How to Finally Heal (Revised and Expanded Edition) Ebook | READ ONLINEhttp://read.ebookcollection.space/?book=1401962874

Author : Anthony William Publisher : Hay House ISBN : 1401962874 Publication Date : 2021-3-23 Language : Pages : 488

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Synopsis : Pdf [download]^^ Medical Medium: Secrets Behind Chronic and Mystery Illness and How to Finally Heal (Revised and Expanded Edition) (

> FILE*) From the #1 New York Times best-selling author of the Medical Medium series, a revised and expanded edition of the book that started a health revolution.Anthony William, the Medical Medium, has helped millions of people heal from ailments that have been misdiagnosed or ineffectively treated or that doctors can't resolve on their own. Now he returns with an elevated and expanded edition of the book where he first opened the door to healing knowledge from over 30 years of bringing people's lives back. With a massive amount of healing information that science won't discover for decades, Anthony gets to the root of people's pain or illness and what they need to do to restore their health now--which has never been more important. His tools and protocols achieve spectacular results, even for those who have spent years and many thousands of dollars on all forms of medicine before turning to him. They are the answers to rising from the ashes.Medical Medium reveals the true causes of chronic symptoms, conditions, and diseases that medical communities continue to misunderstand or struggle to understand at all. It explores the solutions for dozens of the illnesses that plague us, including Lyme disease, fibromyalgia, adrenal fatigue, ME/CFS, hormonal imbalances, Hashimoto's disease, MS, RA, depression, neurological conditions, chronic inflammation, autoimmune disease, blood sugar imbalances, colitis and other digestive disorders, and more. This elevated and expanded edition also offers further immune support, brand-new recipes, and even more solutions for restoring the soul and spirit after illness or life events have torn at our emotional fabric. Whether you've been given a diagnosis you don't understand, or you have symptoms you don't know how to heal, or someone you love is sick, or you're a doctor who wants to care for your own patients better, Medical Medium offers the answers you need. It's also a guidebook for everyone seeking the secrets to living longer, healthier lives.Discover the reasons we suffer and how to finally heal from more than two dozen common conditions:ACHES & PAINSADHDADRENAL FATIGUEAGINGALZHEIMER'SAUTISMAUTOIMMUNE DISEASEBELL'S PALSYBRAIN FOGCANDIDACHRONIC FATIGUE SYNDROMECOLITISDEPRESSION & ANXIETYDIABETES & HYPOGLYCEMIADIGESTIVE DISORDERSDIZZINESSEPSTEIN-BARR VIRUSFIBROMYALGIAFROZEN SHOULDERINFLAMMATIONLEAKY GUT SYNDROMELUPUSLYME DISEASEMENOPAUSAL SYMPTOMSMIGRAINES & HEADACHESMULTIPLE SCLEROSISNEUROLOGICAL SYMPTOMSPMSPOSTPARTUM FATIGUEPTSDRHEUMATOID ARTHRITISSHINGLESTHYROID DISORDERSTINGLES & NUMBNESSTMJ & JAW PAINVERTIGO & TINNITUSThe truth about the world, ourselves, life, purpose--it all comes down to healing, Anthony William writes. And the truth about healing is now in your hands.

[carrera38rs]

The Monterey Incident

Saturday, August 18, 2019. A day that will live in infamy. Why beat around the bush, right? While all well-informed classic and collector fans have already heard about the debacle on the final evening of RM Sotheby’s Monterey, California auction, I’m finally weighing in. Why now, you may ask. Well, I have been busily cranking out marketing copy for my clients ever since my return from the Monterey Peninsula and as time permits, still trying to process all the camaraderie, events and fun of the jam-packed festival known as Monterey Car Week. Work doesn’t have to be all work and no play, does it? Thankfully, I’m blessed to combine both. Why discuss this situation in a public forum? Well, because this event still baffles me and many other observers on so many levels.

Time for full disclosure. I started my career in the collector-car world and copywriting in particular, with RM Auctions in early 2008. I remain grateful for my time at RM, where I learned my craft and gained incredible experience researching and writing auction-catalog descriptions of thousands of desirable and valuable collector cars. Eventually, all things must pass, in the wise words of George Harrison, and I was released from my service at RM during mid-July 2012, in a reshuffling a few months after my department head resigned from the company.

I knew that day would come sooner or later. In early 2009, I narrowly escaped being terminated along with 5-6 other poor souls, in a ruthless and teary auction-staff downsizing in the wake of the failed offering of a multi-million dollar ($10 million cost to be exact) 1963 Corvette Grand Sport at Scottsdale. The unsung workers were simply expendable pawns following this risky managerial gamble. The savings by the company in salaries paid amounted to nothing more than a small rounding error on the company balance sheet. Still, real people paid for a dubious boardroom decision they never made. Having said that, I truly have no axe to grind with RM today. Life goes on. However, the debacle that unfolded this year at Monterey does not surprise me and leaves me wondering about the future of my industry.  

I was not there in person at the RM Sotheby’s auction, other than taking in previews. However, dozens of videos postLapse ed online paint a clear picture of the silly and pointless proceedings. There, Alain Squindo, an RM Sotheby’s VP and my former department head, just stood at the podium and looked on blankly but with an almost imperceptible smirk during the confused bidding. He made no attempt to stop the train-wreck that unfolded when auctioneer Maarten Ten Holder started unwinding the Seventy-Million-Dollar bid posted for the car on the video screen in the saleroom – to confusion and boos from the spectators and bidders in the room. What really continues to baffle me and many auction watchers – including several in mainstream print, online media and high-profile podcasts – is how the prior 61 lots were handled professionally that night without any confusion, misunderstandings or language barriers and without any pronunciation and comprehension errors.

This point was most elegantly covered by journalist Hannah Elliott in her article penned for Bloomberg on August 18 – immediately after the RM Sotheby’s auction and with further insight and analysis on August 22. One key issue discussed by Ms. Elliott was how auctioneer Maarten Ten Holder – a polyglot fluent in several languages – could suddenly mispronounce “Thirteen,” “Fourteen,” and “Seventeen Million Dollars,” sounding as though he had bids of up to “Seventy Million Dollars.” Compounding this was the likely and highly questionable practice of announcing “Chandelier” or “Phantom” bids – both non-existent, misleading  and intended to flush out any real bidders with real money.

Another thing that baffles me is a chance meeting that I and a close friend had during pre-auction previews a couple of hours before the Porsche crossed the block. While we were taking pictures of, and with the sleek proto-Porsche, a twentysomething man wearing a “Luftgekühlt” T-shirt quietly intimated to us, “It will get to $17 million but won’t sell.” I did a double take and he repeated his prediction clearly and confidently. Now, it was clear he was a hard-core and well-informed Porsche enthusiast, but that night’s auction-block debacle played out precisely as he predicted. Was he a clairvoyant, just plain lucky with his prediction, or did he know something?

I do realize the car was shopped around privately for at least the past 20 years and its offering by RM was highly, perhaps over-promoted in the weeks preceding the auction, but come on. How can somebody make such a bold prediction without having some inside information? I should have asked him for stock-market tips, sports odds, the ponies, or his take on Bitcoin and the precise location of Jimmy Hoffa while I was at it. Me and my friend shrugged and moved on to previewing some other cars and then had a late lunch, all the while scratching our heads about the conversation we just had with the young Porsche enthusiast.

In addition to reading the many articles and watching the videos covering the Type 64’s botched offering,  I’ve been listening closely to the latest two editions of “Spike’s Car Radio,” the entertaining and well-informed podcast covering classic cars, events, comedy and life, hosted by Spike Feresten. Worthy of further listening, these podcast episodes included Hannah Elliott, Jerry Seinfeld and lawyer Paul Zuckerman. In the latest episode, Spike made the startling revelation that RM Sotheby’s may have sensed the Porsche would not sell on the auction stage at Monterey and decided to turn its offering into a sort of comedy act. He even stated that the auction house approached him to join in the antics. Thankfully, Mr. Feresten refused to take part in RM Sotheby’s ill-advised and frankly, cynical scheme.  

Overall, a picture emerges of auction houses trying to land exciting, news-worthy cars to offer and sell and of the intense competition for clients and the drive to be the best seller at each major venue. The latest “Spike’s Car Radio” podcast episode also included the contention I stated earlier, that the whole fiasco makes the collector-car industry look shabby by association.

The collector-car auction world is extremely interesting and yes, it generates significant sales. There are thousands of good, honest and ethical people who make it all happen and a few rotten eggs do unfortunately spoil the bunch. It will be very interesting to see what, if any, fallout comes from this sad – and in my opinion, totally preventable event. It also bears noting that other high-end auction houses do not seem to suffer from the many lapses in judgment that led RM Sotheby’s down this path at Monterey.

Many questions remain. Some of my friends and colleagues may disagree and that is their absolute right, but the farcical offering of such a significant and valuable piece of motoring history has indeed put a massive black eye on the collector-car auction industry. The industry I work in. The industry that to me is a calling and not just another job. And I do not believe for one second that the saleroom antics at RM Sotheby’s in Monterey can be attributed purely to human error or sophomoric humor. And unlike the junior staffers that walked in tears past my cubicle after they got sacked back in 2009, I am doubtful neither Messrs. Squindo nor Ten Holder will face any real consequences for their decisions. What they attempted to do on the auction block in Monterey was crass and totally unnecessary. They would certainly not last long in my employ.  

To me, this incident is the adult equivalent of being a young boy who once met one of his hockey-card heroes at an event during the mid-1970s, only to discover the man was all too human – a drunken, staggering, unemployable wreck who did not fully understand why he played professionally for so many years, earned so much money and had so many loving fans. Having earned and enjoyed a stellar reputation for so long, it is truly sad to see some of RM Sotheby’s top personnel stoop to this level. My honest hope is that the players involved in this current situation will sober up, smell the coffee brewing and realize – soon – that this type of corporate buffoonery is far less tolerable in the court of public opinion today than ever before. Not to mention the arrogance of their actions and their obvious contempt for sellers, buyers, spectators, and the general public. I can only guess at the fury yet to be unleashed by the car’s owner. Remember, people vote with their wallets and there are many other solid players to choose from for the big game.    

[meandmymentalhealth67220]

8th July post from Facebook

And here is this week's "getting to know me and my mental health" post.

This Sunday I wanted to talk about perspective, a basic parallax of mental health that causes no end of problems for everyone who has any type of mental health condition. Just to define the terms so everyone is on the same page: perspective means how you perceive and understand your milieu, your environment in life, and is governed by numerous things, such as how you see the world with your eyes and how you hear things, but, also, how you interpret events and ideas when you encounter them and how your own limited understanding of the world, caused by a variety of limiting factors, influences how you react and feel about certain stimuli.

For example, I had a hard time understanding that I felt most comfortable as queer because for years I didn't understand that I could identify as this umbrella term which would provide me with cover (pun intended) for all future umming and ahhing should I change my mind about who I fall in love with. Instead, I was limited to a "gay" or "straight" binary - nothing beyond that existed for me, so I felt like I had to choose between one or the other based on my limited understanding. Other people also do this for things in their own life, such as being tricked into thinking that they have to be liberal or conservative when they can pick or choose their political affiliation in a much more fluid way, or between football teams when they could, in fact, choose to say they don't much care about any of them in either way.

Now, a parallax is basically two perspectives which see the same physical events in the real world, but perceive them differently. Sometimes radically so. So, to go back to the football example, two people see a player fall to the floor in the box: one says that it is a foul, and the other says that it isn't. There may be multiple reasons for this - a genuine misunderstanding about what occurred, or the event itself walks the line between foul and not foul, but when perspective comes into it the situation becomes trickier. Perspective means that their may be a wide range of motives hidden from those observing the situation, and also from those involved in the situation. For example, the motives hidden from an outside observer might be that the two people support the two teams, or an interpersonal relationship where one likes to wind up the other for their amusement. Even more confusing, though, as the ones which are hidden from the participants themselves, such as an unconscious bias that can be motivated by a wide range of factors that also keep them from admitting that this is what they are doing.

When it comes to mental health, this is a massive problem as almost all mental health problems are invisible. The best you can do is observe how a person's mood changes over time, or study their physical characteristics with regard to changes in their emotions. But these can be incredibly misleading and subject to a parallax, in the person who is observing, but also in the person with the mental health issue.

Let me give you an example: an observer sees a person lying on the floor, shaking a bit and hugging themselves.

This could be a severe anxiety attack, so the observer reacts according to how they perceived the world. Some don't get involved, some try to help, some shout at the person because they are frustrated with their inability to help them and make it worse... there are a whole spectrum of responses.

However, I have taken to doing this in our conservatory to help me get over an anxiety attack. I find the hard floor, the carpet, the little footstool I rest my head on, the closeness to the cabinets, I find it all solid and reassuring, and within a matter of minutes it helps to ground me and bring me out of my sense of hopelessness and worry.

But, to the untrained eye, this would be me suffering the symptoms of an anxiety attack, not a method for overcoming one.

Let's look at one of the reactions in order to understand how the biases of a person with a mental health issue can influence them. The observer shouts at the person on the floor due to their own feelings of uselessness because they don't feel that they can help.

Now, this is clearly a hidden motive for the observer. They are angry at themselves, but unable to express that for a variety of reasons, so they take it out on the person suffering from anxiety.

The person with anxiety, however, might be in a place where they think everyone hates them and feels disgusted with their own weak behaviour. Again, I'm speaking from experience, here.

The dynamic then becomes toxic because of this misunderstanding. The person with the anxiety grows to hate the observer, internalising their criticisms and using them to justify the comfort of KNOWING that people hate them because they have EVIDENCE. And it is a comfort - most anxieties are about uncertainty or being unable to control aspects of your life, so when something is known and proven, it becomes a comfort. Even if the knowledge is wrong and the evidence has been misunderstood.

In this instance, it might prolong the anxiety attack and damage the relationship between the two different people. It might further alter the perspective of the person suffering anxiety, convincing them that they're right to fear people are out to get them, which causes further episodes of similar behaviour, which leads to the observer behaving in a similar way, too, or the problems escalate.

Going back to my queer identity, this reminds me of something in Hannah Gadsby's recent Netflix special, Nanette, which really moved me. In it, she says that her mother told her that she tried to raise her to fit in with the world because she knew the world wouldn't change for her, but now she realises that all that did was make things even more difficult for her as a consequence and therefore she was sorry. I had to leave the room at that point because it made me start crying again.

Sometimes people try to do things for the nicest and best of reasons: to protect people, to help them, or even to shelter themselves from the hurt of being around someone whose life circumstances are distressing to them. This last one is still a kindness, as we need to look after ourselves if we're to have any hope of looking after others, and sometimes we need a break from the distress and drama to get us there. But those nice things can still end up being utterly wrong and incredibly damaging for those who experience them.

The idea that I needed to fit in with the world caused me immeasurable harm growing up, and turns out to have been entirely needless given how my friendship group have been so kind and accepting towards me since coming out. The idea that everyone hates me that I get when my paranoia and anxiety run wild caused me huge amounts of pain, and it was only with the kindness and friendship of those around me who helped me out that I managed to surface and breathe again.

But the harm that has been caused by the basic misunderstandings caused by a simple parallax, a couple of viewpoints where one person cannot reconcile or understand what the other is experiencing, has caused me a lot of serious, severe pain. Especially in the recent past. Especially because notions of truth carry less weight when talking about how we perceive the world because our perceptions are our truth, are our understanding of the things we experience.

In the end, there is only one way in which these parallaxes can be reckoned with so that everyone comes out happy and healthy, and that is for effective communication. I'm very sorry if it is inconvenient to you, but just as you wouldn't leave an old lady who has been hit by a car by the side of the road to bleed out, you cannot leave someone visibly suffering from a mental health problem to stew in their own juices. You should try to offer help and support. If you cannot at least go and put a hand on their shoulder and just sit with them and let them know you are there for them, then you are making the situation worse. Shouting at them, blaming them, abandoning them: you're making the situation worse.

Go and be nice to them. Tell them a story about something nice that happened to you. Make them laugh. Distract them from their problems. Hug them. Sing them the lyrics from your favourite Disney film. Get them a glass of water. Stroke their hair. Let them get angry and insult you and simply say, "I understand," because they aren't usually angry at you, but at something inside themselves that has been damaged by the world they live in. Call up a friend of theirs on your phone and put them on so they can talk to them. Just talk to them! About anything and everything until they calm down! And always remember that the person on the floor crying and sobbing might not even fully understand what is hurting them so much, yet, so don't expect them to be able to tell you why they feel like this or what they're thinking - the reasons why might be hidden to them, too, and understanding them whilst they panic probably won't help them much. Certainly not as much as just letting them know that you're there just for them, and that they matter. That they have value. Even if it is just for that one person who is there right then.

I once went to meet a woman I was dating in a town I had never been to, and as I walked to the bar I was meeting her at I saw a teenage girl crying on a bench. I thought about walking past, but she seemed so lost and despondent, that I just couldn't do it. Loads of people were walking by, some giving her funny looks because of how she was behaving in public. That must have hurt her. Now, I never saw this girl again, but I went up to her and just asked if she was OK, if there was anything I could do to help. She looked at me for a second, and then smiled and her face lit up, and she assured me she would be fine. I went to meet the woman I was meeting, and she'd seen it and she asked me why I'd done that, and, in retrospect, I should've known there and then that relationship wouldn't work out. But it is the things like that of which I'm most proud in my life. Those little moments where you have every reason to walk away, and everyone else is doing, but you just know you couldn't live with yourself if you didn't do something to help.

I've been on both sides. It doesn't take a lot to make a difference.

[scentedcollectorcloudworld-blog]

Significance of a Picture Booth in Every single Situation

Event Photography Singapore Be it a corporate collecting or a marriage ceremony or a non-public social gathering, we hire a skilled photographer to capture some of the best moments for posterity. Even so, we see a modify in this development. The new development is putting in a photo booth at occasions. And men and women favor to employ the service of a image booth over expert photographers for many causes. To employ a good photographer you will have to spend a lot of money. An gain of having a photo booth is that even if you have a tight budget, you will be in a position to click the photos of every single guest. Regardless of whether it really is a grand official perform like a merchandise launch or a small personal get with each other just for fun, it is entirely essential that you get a picture booth rental to capture every single 1 of people brilliant images. Let us take a peek into some of the other rewards of hiring a image booth for your subsequent celebration. Make every person truly feel particular Most occasions are incomplete with out a number of very good images. Be it a company occasion or a wedding ceremony, site visitors will enjoy if you can give each of them a image memento of the occasion, and a photo booth will make it attainable. You can make each and every and each individual who attended your celebration feel specific. For case in point, in a wedding, guests will be thankful for obtaining their picture introduced inside of a corner with numerous varieties of assistants to run with the matter of the occasion. An chance for the friends to combine and mingle If you are organising a massive accumulating, not everyone attending the function will know every single other. It will provide that enjoyable element into the event. It will give your visitors not only an prospect to have entertaining with the people they know but will also give them a chance to interact with strangers at the social gathering. Moreover, it presents all people a likelihood to have their photo taken at the event both with the guests or hosts or both. Resolve the boredom At a marriage ceremony we typically see the bride and the groom busy getting photographed by a expert photographer even though all their friends will be sitting down bored waiting around for their turn to click on snaps with the pair. When you have a picture booth your visitors will be in a exciting method even prior to the start of the true celebration. They can have all the exciting while you are occupied receiving photographed by a specialist cameraman. Add to the entertainment benefit of the celebration Image booths come with thrilling props, which are vital if you want your attendees to get excited about your function. When you employ the service of a photo booth make certain they have faux moustaches, feather wigs, and oversized hats, eyeglasses, image frames, and many others. Such props will encourage even shy visitors to attempt out and act silly. It will insert to the leisure price of the celebration and your occasion will be the chat of the town for months or years to come. Quality photos to maintain This is the age of selfies, but they can't beat the top quality of pictures captured by way of a DSLR. Now, there is a general misunderstanding that photographs clicked at photo booths provide sub-standard photos, which is not at all correct. There are so numerous image booth businesses which offer excellent quality services at cheap charges. They will guarantee you get vivid photographs on higher top quality paper. That way you will get the best photography encounter. Not only that. By choosing it you can gift your friends a fantastic souvenir. The large high quality of pictures printed at a photograph booth is in no way inferior to the pictures clicked by a specialist photographer. A possibility to give your occasion a lot more publicity To recall the ideal times at an function you want excellent good quality images. That is the main cause why we take images at any occasion. By hiring a photograph booth you will be capable to give every customer a likelihood to depart the function with a distinct photograph, and your event will be etched in their memory forever. Your friends may possibly even share the pictures taken at your event on social networking internet sites and more and much more people will get to see your event. That way your event will get much more publicity and could also helps make individualized photographs feasible at large and little activities. Conserve each and every single shot Most photograph booths will print photos in a subject of seconds so there is no want for the friends to wait for their pictures. Another edge of choosing is that you can also save each single shot into a disk and not a solitary shot will go squander. And you will be capable to share the photos as you want. If you request the rental company, they will even give you movie snapshot presentation of all the photographs. So contemplate all these advantages and hire a photo booth following time you program an celebration. Due to the fact once you do, there is no looking back you are going to love each and every and each and every second.