#And with that‚ I filled my requirement of one rant per day.

[nosferatufaggot]

Most of the sequels that are coming out just for capitalism's sake are pissing me off, however, I am excited for Disenchanted.

[bird-in-thesky]

oh my god last minute days of color rant: I CAN’T EVEN SPEND MY TICKETS

You can see a more even keel look at my issues with tickets here, but I’m here to rant.

They don’t convert (which is stupid) I didn’t get enough for the cape (ALSO STUPID BECAUSE IT WAS SO EXPENSIVE AND REQUIRED LIKE 30 MINS / DAY, DAILY, which like sorry tgc, but i actually pride myself on having a LIFE), and the amount of spells you can buy/day is limited SO I CAN’T EVEN BUY THE JUNKY SPELLS (let alone the cape)

The fact they don’t convert already had me sour grapes about it, because that meant my literal hours of grinding was going to just POOF because I couldn’t quite manage to get the cape since TGC’s expectations of average players are completely unrealistic, but I was happy to get a ton of spells… only to be cut off from that as well. I literally hate this company. This is one decision in a long line of stupid decisions, and it’s the straw that’s making me quit this stupid game.

To all of you happy with the ticket system and other recent changes: I’m happy you can find joy. But I urge you to consider the question of reasonable expectations from players— is it reasonable for TGC to expect the average player base to login, say, 6/7 days of the week for 10-20 mins per day? Especially to get, say, seasonal content they already paid real money for, or just limited time items? Really, they typically have been expecting MORE, actually. Very few games have this rigorous a grind schedule for limited time items. In my opinion, it’s not reasonable— especially when, frankly, there’s not much to fill your time when you do play, from an actual gameplay perspective (kind of wandering around with little challenge or ability to meaningfully interact with others is hardly fun after some time). I think this will lead to the death of sky, and honestly, if they don’t change things, I won’t be too sad to see it go.

[starkey]

so many otherwise chill people post the most un-informed, wildly anti-vegan takes On Here (and I have unfollowed many people because of it) that I had a moment of panic about that pleather post before the reading comprehension set in.

Omg yeah it’s crazy! My theory is that it’s because (a) this website is mostly Americans, who have the highest meat consumption per person in the world (almost 100kg of meat a year… in the uk it’s almost half that) and (b) a lot of people on tumblr engage with left wing politics in a very identity-politic us-centric way, which means they understand homophobia and racism to an almost academic level but apparently completely lack any political understanding of the environmental catastrophe we have on our door steps. (Gonna go on a Massive Rant now sorry, I just finished A Life On Our Planet and I’m filled with miserable rage)

Like… I decided when I was 15 that if I wasn’t willing to literally kill an animal myself for the sake of a meal, then the ethics of offloading that action onto someone else (likely someone financially vulnerable enough to have a slaughterhouse job in the first place, with the high amount of trauma, injury and burnout we know that generates) then I simply should not eat animals. I wouldn’t kill a dog, I wouldn’t kill a cow, why would I eat a hamburger? It just never made intuitive sense to me.

That is, at heart, an opinion though and if someone simply doesn’t care that animals have to die for them to eat a McDonald’s burger then that’s difficult to argue with. I can still advocate for animal rights, the same way I argue for human rights, but at the end of the day it’s just “I don’t know how to explain to you that you should care about (people) sentient creatures”.

But! The evidence of the meat industry’s effects on the environment are undeniable. To deny them is to be on par with a climate change denier or a flat earther - it’s a persistent and self-indulgent disregard for raw facts. Meat production is one of the single most significant drivers of climate change - equivalent to every form of transport used in the entire world. It requires an unfathomable amount of deforestation (every minute seven football fields of rainforest are cut down for cattle farming - even nice little benign local farms feed their cows on huge volumes of crops grown on deforested land).

That deforestation releases carbon stores that have sat there for millions of years, and we’re rapidly reaching the tipping point of forest death where the Amazon will simply die because after a certain point the rainfall will lesson and the irrigation will fail. This further exacerbates climate change, which causes more forest fires, which destroys more carbon stores and biodiversity. It’s also the cause of more water pollution than every other industry combined. We’re talking catastrophic destruction of local and indigenous species and a monumental loss of biodiversity. Between human beings as a species and the animals that are our domesticated livestock, only 4% of the species left alive today are wild mammals, and only 4% are wild birds. 60% of the biomass of the planet is animals we eat.

We’ve also overfished to the point that we’ve all but destroyed most of the large ocean ecosystems. In the last 55 years 90% of the large ocean predators have been made extinct. We’re on track for the fishing industry to be literally wiped out by 2048!!! How many livelihoods will be lost then? How much of the biodiversity of the oceans will be obliterated?? There are ways to fix this!!

Like… we stand upon the brink!! The absolute precipice of environmental disaster. And Americans who are used to living in a fascist ultra-right-wing police state (which resembles no other western democracy in politics or culture) somehow have the rest of the English speaking millennial/gen z woke online population convinced that there is absolutely nothing we can do to avert it. But like… if you eat a plant based diet you release 1.5 tons of carbon dioxide a year less into the atmosphere than someone who eats meat!! We need to rewild our natural ecosystems, return land to indigenous populations (who already manage their own land sustainably), stop fishing in international waters, invest in renewable energy sources, stop subsiding the meat industry and paying them public money to destroy the environment. AND WE NEED TO EAT MUCH MUCH LESS MEAT!! We do! We need to! If we don’t the planet will literally burn to the fucking ground! I know going vegan is hard! I also very much like cheese! But living in a post apocalyptic wasteland will undoubtably be a lot harder!

So yeah, going online and seeing some American who by their own admission didn’t learn about other countries until the 10th grade talk about how leather is really good for the environment, actually, well… it is detrimental to my inner calm.

[valdomarx]

Inseparably Entwined

Stargate Atlantis, McKay/Sheppard, bound together, 2k, rated M

-

Elizabeth pinches the bridge of her nose. "What did you two do now?"

"We. Uhh. We found another Ancient device."

"And, instead of cataloguing it for a hazmat team to investigate, as per protocol, you decided to play with it?"

“To investigate it,” Rodney corrects. “Like the competent professionals we are.” John punches him in the arm.

Elizabeth's lips purse into a thin line. "And then you accidentally activated it?"

John winces. "And then we accidentally activated it."

"Of course you did. And its effects are…?"

"Non lethal," Rodney says, a bit too quickly. 

Elizabeth mumbles something that might be don't bet on it under her breath. "Non lethal, but…?"

John shifts his weight and stares at a point behind her head. "McKay and I have to stay within ten feet of each other at all times or we both pass out."

For a moment there is stunned silence. Then the sound of Elizabeth's bark of laughter fills the office and spills out into the gate room.

-

Carson waves a hand. “You’re both going to be fine. It looks like the bond is only temporary.”

Rodney fidgets. “How temporary?”

“I couldn’t say. A few days, maybe a few weeks?”

“Weeks?” John chokes out. “Listen, doc, we need you to fix this -”

Carson cuts him off. “I’m sorry, son, but I’ve got more important things on my plate right now.” He looks pointedly around the infirmary which is admittedly full of marines being treated for combat injuries, Athosians coming in for checkups, and troops of medical staff organizing vaccinations for off-world groups.

John deflates. “So we’re stuck with each other?”

Carson pats him on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

Rodney looks up at that. “Hey!”

-

“Absolutely not.” John recoils in horror. “We are not sleeping in your room.”

“But all my stuff is in there.”

“Your room is disgusting. If you think I’m sleeping on the floor among half-finished bags of cheetos and bits of drones, you are sorely mistaken. It’s a wonder you haven’t attracted the Lantean equivalent of rats.”

“I’ll have you know the bags of cheetos are almost entirely finished.”

“Rodney -”

“Alright! We’ll sleep in your oh-so-tidy quarters. Military spick and span, no snacks or useful bits of machinery in sight.” Rodney rounds on him, waving a finger in his face. “But if I get an inspired idea in the middle of the night and can’t find a circuit board to test it on, know that it’s your stubbornness that is robbing humanity of another of my great concepts.”

John hides a smile. “I’ll have to find a way to live with myself.”

-

When the doors to John’s quarters slide open, Rodney’s jaw drops.

“Hey! How come you have a bigger bed than me?”

John shoots him a smug look. “I upgraded after the last attack. Benefits of command.” It was one of the very few benefits of command he was willing to take advantage of.

“Oh, that’s how it is, hmm? We’re living in a military dictatorship here, with all the best perks and boons given to the highest ranking officers? Never mind that it’s the scientists who do all the actual work, who discover new technology and solve the problems, oh no, let’s give out the biggest and comfiest beds to the military guys, as if that’s fair -”

“McKay!” he interrupts. Rodney looks like he’s having fun, gearing up for a good rant, but John honestly can’t take it right now. “Go to sleep, I’m begging you.”

Rodney huffs, clearly saving that rant away for another time. “Fine.”

-

John is woken up for the third time that night by Rodney fidgeting on the floor and sighing dramatically. 

“What is it, McKay?” His voice is testy. He doesn’t love having his sleep interrupted.

“I can’t get comfortable. A sleeping bag on the floor is bad for my back.”

John stares at the ceiling and counts to ten. He looks at the ample space next to him and calculates his best odds of getting some sleep tonight. “Come here and share the bed with me then.”

Rodney eyes his mattress dubiously. “I’ll have you know I require a very firm mattress, for spinal support, not that I’d expect you to understand -”

“For god’s sake, get in the bed. It has to be better than the floor.”

A moment’s pause. “Yeah, alright.”

It’s been a long time since John slept next to someone. His rare hookups have mostly involved sneaking out in the middle of the night, and even when he was married they slept in separate beds most of the time. 

Sleeping next to Rodney is, surprisingly, not awful though. Sure, he steals all the covers and moves around all the time and, of course, he snores, but John finds that he strangely doesn’t mind. 

-

John has seen Rodney under fire, seen him at his best, seen him happy and sad and angry and bored. But he’s never seen him first thing in the morning before.

“Whazzat?” Rodney’s eyes barely open. His expression is one of overriding confusion. “Whzz going on?”

John stifles a smile at his resident genius. He’s been up for an hour already, showered, done his laundry, and cleaned his space. He’s also decided to play nice and share his secret.

“Here,” he says, and hands a mug of freshly brewed coffee to Rodney. “Just don’t tell anyone I snuck coffee and a kettle into my personal effects, or the scientists will raid us in the middle of the night.”

“Coffee!” Rodney is still radiating confusion, but he hones in on the cup of coffee like a laser. A blissful smile passes over his face. “You brought me coffee.”

“I did.”

“You’re wonderful.” Rodney takes the coffee and cradles it like something precious and rare.

-

After a day and a half doing paperwork in the lab because they can't go off-world, John has reached the end of his rope. 

"I'm going to the gym," he snaps. "You can either come with me or we'll both end up in the infirmary when I try to go there alone."

Rodney glares and is clearly about to start arguing when Zelenka elbows him. He sighs dramatically but agrees that they can take an hour away. 

While they're both in the gym and John needs a sparring partner, he figures he might as well teach Rodney some self defense. The idea of Rodney needing to defend himself makes something unpleasant twist in his gut, but he pushes that away and argues they should make the most of this time and do something productive. To his surprise, Rodney agrees, and they run through some basic drills and defensive maneuvers. 

Rodney is bad at this, frankly. He's all elbows and poor coordination, but he's trying. 

John is feeling magnanimous, and he knows the value of a bit of positive reinforcement. So when Rodney steps forward and attempts a clumsy hip throw, he leans in and lets himself be thrown. 

Rodney looks astonished that actually worked, before delightedly pouncing on John and pinning him to the floor.

"Got you," he says, face pink and grinning wickedly. 

John's heart picks up, somehow distracted by Rodney's heavy weight on him and the sharp brightness of his smile. He swallows thickly. 

"I guess you do."

-

“Geez, Sheppard, how long does it take to have a shower?” Rodney’s voice carries through the bathroom door. “I want to run some simulations on the city’s power systems with Zelenka.”

John’s cheeks flush and he tries to tune Rodney out. “Just give me a minute, will you?”

“What are you doing in there anyway, jerking off?”

John goes very, very still.

“Oh my god, you are!”

“Shut up, McKay.”

“No, no, don’t let me stop you. You go ahead and enjoy yourself.”

“I hate you.”

“I’m not judging. It’s perfectly natural. And hey, maybe it’ll help you chill the fuck out for once.”

John scowls, gives up, and shoves his dick back in his pants. “I will kill you in your sleep.”

-

John is used to having to drag McKay around after him on missions, so in some ways their new situation isn’t entirely unfamiliar. 

Tac vests are useful for that; full of hand holds he can grab when he needs McKay to get down under cover or to stop him from wandering off to look at some shiny piece of technology. When Rodney is in uniform, he can grab the collar of his shirt, though Rodney complains that it creases the fabric horribly.

So John finds a compromise. When he has stuff to do and Rodney is dawdling, he grabs his hand and steers him in the right direction. After a while it becomes second nature - whenever there’s danger or something important is happening, he takes Rodney’s hand and they set off to deal with it together.

If any of the marines find it funny to see their commander holding hands with the head of science during a crisis, none of them dares to mention it.

-

John is carefully, carefully tending to his hair. Just the right amount of product, to spike it just the right amount to look effortless. He tweaks and ruffles, tugs and shapes. This is an art form which requires judicious maintenance. 

“Oh, for the love of -” Rodney grabs the tub of hair wax out of his hands. “We’ll be here all day. Let me.”

He steps forward and slides his hands into John’s hair, ruffling it vigorously. His fingers are firm on John’s scalp and he tugs just on the right side of too hard.

Rodney steps back and surveys his work. “That’ll do.”

John glances in the mirror and sees a chaotic, wild mess. He looks like he’s run a marathon, with his pink cheeks and mussed hair, or like he’s rolled out of bed after a night of passion.

“Rodney! I can’t go out like this.”

“Oh, shut up. You look smoking hot, like you always do.”

That’s… What? What does that mean? Why the hell would Rodney say that?

“Come on,” Rodney is saying, already on his way out the door. John has to run after him, cheeks still flushed.

-

They find a rhythm.

John gets up first and puts the coffee on while he showers. He’s given up on trying to tidy Rodney’s side of the room, so he lets the piles of circuit boards and screwdrivers sprout up where they will. Once Rodney is up they get breakfast at the mess, then he spends the morning doing paperwork and writing reports in the science lab while Rodney works. They meet Teyla and Ronon for lunch, then he spends the afternoon drilling the marines while Rodney taps away at a laptop. Evenings, they bicker over which movies to watch in their quarters and throw popcorn at each other.

Elizabeth even agrees to let them travel to the mainland, and then to go on low-stakes reconnaissance missions. 

It’s… comfortable, he realizes. It works.

That thought makes something twist in his chest, and he doesn’t know why.

-

“Morning, sunshine.” John pours Rodney a cup of coffee.

“Mmm.” Rodney is still sleep-rumpled, but he struggles upright and smiles softly. “Morning.”

As he hands over the coffee, Rodney catches his wrist and holds him there. He looks down at the mug, then back up at John. John notices in an abstract way that his eyes are very, very blue.

“Thanks,” Rodney says, and pecks him on the lips.

Right. Okay. That’s a thing. That’s a thing they’re doing now.

John is still processing as Rodney gets up and heads for the shower. “I’ve got a meeting with Miko this morning,” he says over his shoulder, normal as ever, “so we might have to push our gym session back by half an hour -”

He keeps chattering away while John sits on the bed and has a minor crisis. Did they… do they… but that would mean…

By the time Rodney is out of the shower, John has made a decision. 

He doesn’t allow himself to overthink it, he just takes Rodney’s face in his hands and kisses him deeply. Rodney’s arms tighten around his waist and his tongue slips into his mouth and oh. Oh yes. That’s good.

John’s a little breathless, a little dizzy. “Are we really doing this?” he asks.

Rodney’s face scrunches up in amusement. “I think we’ve been doing this for weeks.”

Yeah. Okay. That’s a fair point.

The tense feeling that’s been winding around his chest uncoils, and in its place is nothing but blooming warmth.

“I guess we have.”

-

EPILOGUE

“Carson.” Elizabeth looks up from where she’s frowning at a tablet and gives him a polite nod. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“Any time,” Carson says, and means it. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping to get an update on the situation with John and Rodney. We really do need them to get back on full duty soon.”

“Ahh.” He’s been carefully avoiding that topic. He takes a breath. “To be honest with you, the bond between them wore off days ago. They could go their separate ways now and be none the worse for it.”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows fly upward toward her hairline. “And you haven’t told them yet?”

“See, at first they were in the infirmary every day asking for an update. But they haven’t been in for over a week and -”

“And?”

“They seem…” he pauses, contemplating his choice of words, “... happy.”

Elizabeth’s mouth twitches into a quickly suppressed smile. “That may be, but you have a professional responsibility.”

“Aye, you’re right. I’ll go and tell them the effects of the device have run their course.”

“Well…” Elizabeth looks thoughtful. “You have a professional responsibility to give them accurate medical information when they ask for it.”

Carson sees where she’s going with this. “And until then?”

Elizabeth shrugs and gives him a sly look. “They do seem happy.”

[bestie-enthusiast]

Chapter 2: Making Children Cry For Making Your Children Cry

Hello!! This is the second chapter of my PTA! Dad! Zemo fic. This is the forth installment of 11, and the previous chapters can be found under the hashtag pta dad zemo.

Fic Summary:After the untimely death of both his wife and father due to a bombing, Baron Helmut Zemo takes his son and immigrates to America. He does not expect to find a family nor a romantic partner, and he especially does not expect to find the ability to heal. To grieve.

And yet, here we are.

This is a story about connections, growing, healing and mourning the past while still appreciating the future and all it has to offer.

Chapter WC: 1604

Fic below cut if you're interested!

One Month Later.

“Carol, for the love of all that is holy, shut your ever flapping pie hole!” Sarah shouted at the screeching woman. Carol turned an ugly shade of purple, and opened her mouth, so Zemo stepped in.

“What Ms. Wilson was trying to say, Mrs. West, was that your idea, while… enthusiastic, in it's prospect, would not be the correct way to solve the funding issue. If you would take the time to read the prepared pamphlet you were given at the beginning of the meeting, you would see that how we are acquiring funding is not up for debate, simply a vote on the best of the already selected possibilities.” Zemo explained camly, putting on his most smug smirk as he stared at him gobsmacked.

“He really put her in her place, didn’t he Jessica?” He heard one of the other mothers whisper to her friend.

“I wish he’d put something in my place.” Her friend muttered. Zemo smirked, he was very flattered at how much all the women here seemed to like him. Although he still had his eyes set on one person and one person only, one James Barnes. Not that he loved James, he simply thought that the man was rather beautiful, and his personality was wonderful and-

Huh.

Pushing those thoughts to the side, he focussed on the meeting. Now that Carol had calmed down, they all said their vote, with Carol’s gluten-free, sugar-free, one-treat-per-girl-two-per-boy-none-for-children-who-were-identified-outside-of-that bakesale getting only one vote, her own.

Instead they were going to host a spirit day, in which children could purchase tickets to participate in a variety of activities. Every class would have a different activity and the money from the tickets would go towards purchasing fresh school supplies, as well as more privileges, which are more like basic rights, for teachers in their school district. Zemo was quite satisfied with the outcome of the meeting and when the meeting ended, he started a conversation with Sarah as they walked through the school.

“So you still haven’t done anything about him, huh?” Sarah asked, exasperated. Zemo blinked at the sudden comment about his “crush” on James.

“What am I supposed to do, hmm?” He asked, tilting his head. Just as he said that James walked by them, and he stared at that cute butt of his as he and Sarah continued walking. “It’s not like I can tell him. Do you know how awkward that would be?” Zemo continued, still staring at James.

“Yeah and your staring isn’t?” Sarah sassed, and they both laughed. Sarah and him walked together for once, as they had both left their children at the nearby park with Oeznik watching them. Sarah didn’t exactly trust Oeznik, but he assured her that Oeznik was very much trustworthy. When they arrived Carol was also just arriving, stepping out of her car. It was then that Zemo noticed her child, Hunter, was with her. Zemo frowned, he had wanted to stay at the park to talk with Sarah, but it was not worth it if Carol was also going to be there. He watched as Hunter ran up to Carl, AJ and Cass. Carl said something to him and Hunter frowned.

“What's wrong with your voice?” Hunter asked, not curiously, but cruelly. “It's all wrong. I bet it's broken. Mommy! This boy’s voice is broken!” Zemo blinked for a few seconds and watched as Carol came over. He rushed over as well, not about to be left out of the conversation.

Carl looked spectuarly upset, which was understandable. But when he started to cry, Zemo’s vision started to go red, but what Carol said pushed him over the edge.

“Yes sweetie, it is. All these immigrants come in and teach children the wrong way to speak.” Carol said loudly. Carl’s tears turned into sobs, and Zemo snapped.

“Mrs. West, I would do good to remind you that that is my son you are talking about. Your child came here, over to my son, who was nothing but polite. Your son then proceeded to call my child broken, like he is an object. Which he is not. There is absolutely nothing wrong with his voice, and if you or your child believe that there is, then I suggest you seek psychiatric help for misophonia, or just being a general nuisance.” Zemo ranted, ever polite even in his insults, before turning to Hunter.

“And you- you rude little child. How dare you insult my son like that? How would you feel if I called you broken for being different?” He asked the child, not caring that he had started to cry.

“Have a nice day.” He said to both of them, before picking up Carl and gesturing for AJ and Cass to follow. He stormed away, keeping his steps short though, so that AJ and Cass could keep up. Once they were a safe distance away, he started comforting Carl.

“I’m so sorry, schatz, he should not have said those mean things to you.” He murmured, rocking Carl back and forth gently. He continued to mutter reassurances to Carl as they both calmed down. “You are perfect, liebling. No one should tell you otherwise, and if they do you can tell me, okay?” Carl nodded but continued to cling to Zemo’s shirt, so he just held him close.

“Wow.” Sarah said from beside him, and he turned to look at her. “You really went off on her huh? Good for you man.” Zemo nodded, still very much worked up from the encounter.

“Apologies, but I believe it would be best for me to just take Carl home now.” Sarah nodded and both her and her boys said goodbye. Zemo nodded at Oeznik who walked over and prepared the car. He got in the back with Carl, not bothering to buckle as he was confident in his ability to protect his son, even in the unlikely event of a car crash.

He held Carl the whole drive back home and only set him down when they needed to exit the car. Carl was clearly tired after the whole event and so Zemo told him to go wash off his tears and then they could cuddle for a while. Carl rushed off to do just that, and Zemo told Oeznik to prepare Carl’s favourite dinner, along with a dessert. Oeznik nodded before heading to the kitchen to do just that and Zemo made his way upstairs. Carl was curled up in Zemo’s bed, already half asleep so Zemo got in beside him and pulled him close.

“Papa,” Carl murmured sleepily, “Will you sing for me? Please?”

“Of course, schatz.” Zemo replied, and began to sing a Sokovian lullaby. Carl fell asleep quickly after, and Zemo allowed himself to drift off as well. It was the first peaceful sleep he’d had in months. Unfortunately, all good things had to come to an end, which happened when Oeznik woke both of them up to wash up for dinner. He followed Carl into the bathroom and they both washed their hands. It reminded Zemo of his childhood, being woken up from a nap to go wash up for dinner.

It felt nice. Nostalgic.

Soon all three of them had settled at the table. Zemo felt a pang of guilt when he looked around and felt as though their family was complete. It would never be complete, not with his wife gone. Zemo inhaled and exhaled deeply, forcefully keeping his smile on his face as Carl talked about what he had played with AJ and Cass.

He went through his nightly routine with Carl, and then on his own. And within a couple hours he was alone in his bed, staring up at the ceiling with distaste. He wondered why it was so much easier to sleep earlier than it was now. He thought about the words James had said to him about a month ago, about seeking a therapist. Perhaps it would be best, after all he had failed to keep his composure in the park earlier. Sighing, he got up out of bed and padded down to his office. He opened up his computer and started looking into therapists.

He searched for the perfect one for hours, until he found one he thought would work best for him. Doctor Christina Raynor, a former US Soldier who specializes in PTSD related symptoms. According to her reviews she was rather cynical, and Zemo thought she would be a perfect match for him. He began the process of filling out all the required forms on her website. Soon enough, he had a consultation appointment booked. It was on a Thursday and in the morning, so he would have to get Oeznik to take Carl to school.

Smiling triedly, he relished in the satisfaction of having done something to potentially improve Carl's life. After all, the next person he snapped at could be someone he would rather not upset. He was just about to go and attempt to sleep when he could hear his alarm clock going off from inside his room. He shook his head, and walked back to his room, easily turning it off. He made his way downstairs where he informed Oeznik, who was preparing breakfast, to tell Carl that he was sick. Oeznik asked no questions, simply nodded. Zemo sighed and crawled into bed. It was his own fault, he knew, but that didn’t make him any less inclined to sleep the day away. He did not have any appointments today, only some paperwork, but that could be completed at any point.

And so he slept.

Tagging @morganbritton132 (Who came up with this AU) and @i-ll-be-the-moon (Who is a suportive friend!)

[twistedwishes]

Hi, I’m sorry that you feel all those bad things, maybe some headcannons of comfort with your favorite characters? Hope you’ll feel better soon. Make sure to take a break if you need one!

Thank you for your kind words, Darling!

Although, I am pretty sure that my feelings and problems are going to continue on for a long time.

As I'm writing this, my family and I are on the verge of getting kicked out of our home due to not having quite literally any money to pay our rent and all the bills we have.

To be honest, I just sometimes feel like a burden them, because as the youngest one, and not being able to get a job due to school, I am quite useless.

But, enough about my troubles, here is your wish.

|Enjoy, Love|

~ Genie ~

Riddle, Ruggie and Azul with a fem!s/o who is in need of comfort

Riddle Rosehearts

»       Riddle would notice fairly quickly that something is going on with his s/o, but it would take him a longer time to actually approach and ask her directly

»       As soon as she tells him her troubles, his head ultimately fills with sympathy, thinking of ways to take her mind off of things that are bothering her

»       Of course, per typical Riddle fashion, a calming tea party set in the rose garden would happen soon after his s/o's feelings were brought to his attention

»       He would quietly sit opposite of her, letting her rant and let her frustrations out, all the while nodding along and taking occasional sips of his tea, throwing in some small comments here and there

»       Or if his s/o would ratherly enjoy some tranquil time away from stress and bothers, he'd be fine with that too, although he would pipe up with a question every so often, just to hopefully get a better understanding of what is going through her head

»       If by chance, Riddle was busy at the moment when his s/o comes to him for comfort, he would either tell her to have patience and wait a bit, or invite her to spend some time with him until he finished his duties, under the condition not to distract him

»       While he sorts through his papers and does his homework, Riddle would make a light conversation with his s/o, letting her know that her troubles will eventually be a thing of the past

Ruggie Bucchi

»       Ruggie's s/o would have to come to him if she wants any kind of comfort as he is not the kind of person to pay much attention to other people's moods

»       At first he would assume that she will just ask him to run some errands in her place and maybe pick up some things for her

»       So, he would be genuinely confused when his s/o explains how she just wants to bask in his presence, which is very soothing to her, and that she doesn't require, or want, his services

»       And thus, Ruggie will be pretty awkward at first, not knowing what to do in this situation, he has never been approached for comfort before, so what is he supposed to do?

»       His s/o will probably have to guide him through it, telling him what makes her feel relaxed, if he should go have a warm drink with her or just let her lean on his shoulder in complete silence, Ruggie will get used to it all fairly quickly

»       Although just because he cares about her, doesn't mean he will just drop his responsibilities whenever she is feeling under the weather, he still has Leona to run around and his part-time jobs

»       At the end of the day, he will give it his best effort, but he cannot promise that everything he will do or say will be effective in calming down and destressing his s/o

Azul Ashengrotto

»       Another one that would pick up on his s/o's foul mood rather quickly, but this time Azul would be the one to come up to her, asking her what happened sos he would have such a frown on her face, while chuckling

»       Azul would take her to the VIP room, motioning for her to take a seat and to start talking, everything that's on her mind, big things, small things, problems, ect…

»       After that's all done and over with, he would approach this as a business deal, offering her a contract (a fairly minor one, suprisingly with no loop holes) to deal all her troubles away, it doesn't matter if she is his s/o or not, business is business

»       Once she refuses and shyly confesses that she would just like to spend some time with him as a bit of a coping mechanism, to take her mind off of her problems, he will be stunned

»       Obviously nobody ever came to a shady octopus for comfort, so he would be silent for a while, trying to process her words

»       The moment he shakes all of his doubts off, Azul is on his feet, gripping her hand and taking her to the front of Mostro Lounge to get her to pick herself a drink and a small meal

»       So, they would end up chatting in the VIP room, his s/o's body finally not tense and Azul listening intently to what she is saying, making mental notes to speak to whoever is the cause of her troubles

[hold-my-hand-kuroo]

tendou as my favorite naruto!! openings-

it’s midnight where i am right now, so a big hbd to one of my favorite nerds!!  here’s something quick and dumb that i did while i’m still functioning,,,this is what he would’ve wanted, i’m sure of it.

also before someone @’s me, i have more than four favorite naruto openings, but i just don’t have the time to write them all- (i am a “lovers” supremacist though).

pairing: tendou satori x reader

i. “We’ve pretended to forget the things we held dear, so we can just laugh and say it’s nothing.”

Tendou can’t say that quitting volleyball after high school was a bad idea. No longer does he have to ache throughout his legs and arms, and no longer does he have to practice inside a stuffy gym until the sun was gone. He can finally rest on the weekends or take time to work on assignments before midnight. It’s liberating and less stressful on his part. Plus, even if he slightly missed volleyball from time to time, he could just watch one of Ushijima’s games during his now-open weekends. For sure, Tendou can’t say that he regrets leaving the sport.

But he also can’t say that he doesn’t miss his paradise.

His favorite spot at university is the secluded spot in the back, hidden away from most students. It’s where you find him during long breaks in between classes or during lunch, and it’s where you sit under the shade of a tall tree, watching Tendou as he bounces the volleyball back and forth against the brick wall. The sound is soft, gentle, and steady, and it helps you concentrate on your work. Sometimes, after the long, grueling hours of an all-nighter, you find the noise to be lulling, almost hypnotic. It wasn’t hard for you to nod off.

Today is no exception. Procrastinating and leaving your final papers to the night before wasn’t your best idea, and after what seemed to be the strangest period of limbo, drifting between dozing off and waking up, you found yourself finally submitting and missing your entire night’s worth of sleep. You take your lunch break as an opportunity to finally get some rest, and when you round the corner, Tendou’s already there. He’s humming a tune, fingers pressing against the white ball. Hearing your footsteps, he turns and gives you a wide smile. Even then, he doesn’t stop tossing the ball.

“You look terrible,” he comments, stifling his laughter. You groan, settling against the wood of the tree but make no effort to respond. Tendou changes his song, picking a melody that is more calming while continuing to play. The gentle breeze sets you into a deep slumber with the redhead acting as your lullaby.

When you wake up, you find yourself leaning against his shoulder. Your eyes flutter open and then close almost immediately at the sudden intrusion of sunlight. Tendou chuckles from beside you, placing his hand over your closed lids and whistling to himself. Feeling around for his other hand, you trace your fingertips over his own, lingering touches dancing on his skin. You can tell that he’s in a good mood based on the song he’s humming. It was either that or the kiss he places on your cheek after letting you open your eyes.

“Satori?” you murmur, voice still tinged with drowsiness. He pauses his singing, signaling you to finish your thought. “Why aren’t you in the volleyball club?”

“Babe, are you getting sick of me? Or do you just hate me?” he laughs. “I’d run out of time to breathe, let alone see you on the regular.”

“You don’t miss it?”

“Are you really asking me if I miss being bruised all over and struggling to meet deadlines?” He laughs again and pokes your face with a teasing glint in his eye. “Y/N, I’m hurt!”

“You seem to like it a lot considering that you’re literally playing on your own every day.” You put extra emphasis on the last two words and give him a knowing look. Tendou just shakes his head.

“Nah. I only played in high school because joining a club was required. I don’t really care about it now.” His response is simple, less wordy than his usual elaborations, so you let the topic rest. Closing your eyes again, you take part in the humming. The melodies, completely different, clash like day and night, and it makes both of you laugh.

Tendou watches as you fall back to sleep, eyes filled with fondness. In truth, maybe Tendou misses his volleyball club a little bit. His paradise. Not the sport itself per se, but the people around him. It was hard finding classmates that didn’t find him utterly repulsive, so he wasn’t surprised that he fit well into a team that was filled with nothing but the most eccentric people he has ever met. Ushijima and his love affair with volleyball and Semi with his drive to risk it all were standouts, but he supposes that there were others too. Yeah, he misses them more than he’d like to admit, and he misses spending all his waking hours with them. Just a little.

“You stopped humming.” It’s more of a comment on your part rather a complaint, but you can tell by his jolt that you had unintentionally snapped him out of his deep thoughts. “There’s nothing wrong with missing high school, you know?”

“No, it’s okay.” He lies through his teeth, and you’re aware, but you decide to stay quiet.

ii. “I will never let go of your hand. Tell me what is on your mind.”

Tendou works hard because he knows he’s not enough. Because he feels undeserving.

When you waltzed into his life, he hardly had any time to prepare. It’s the first time someone has ever liked him back, and he’s still surprised to this day. Tendou’s not sure which qualities exactly that have caught your interest, but he’s almost 100% sure that your taste is terrible. There isn’t a day that goes by where he doesn’t think that the person holding your hand on the street could be someone so much more attractive, so much more appealing. Someone who didn’t make kids hide whenever they saw him or someone who could embrace you and say with full confidence that you deserved each other. You don’t need someone that constantly makes you worry. You definitely don’t need a guy like him.

He knows your entire schedule and pays special attention to your free periods so that he can visit you. His head is now space for him to keep notes on every little thing about you from your pet peeves to your favorite snacks. It’s counterintuitive for sure, thinking that he’s not worth your time but also desperately trying to keep a hold of you. It’s paradoxical, he knows, but he’s stuck in a limbo of wishing you the very best while also craving your touch and affection at any moment given in time. It’s selfish, and he finds himself wondering if the title of ‘Monster’ is fitting after all.

“Are you sure you’re okay like this?” he asks nervously one Saturday with you sitting by his side. You look at him curiously, setting your book down.

“What do you mean?” His eyes become shifty, looking away.

“I mean, aren’t you bored just reading manga at my house?” he asks, chuckling nervously. “We could go to that restaurant you wanted to go to instead-“

“We’re always doing the things I want though, Satori,” you whine. “That’s why today’s date is something you like. You’ve been wanting to catch up with this series for a while now, right?”

“Yeah, but-,” he tries to protest, frowning, but you just shake your head, silencing him. You don’t know much about the series, but you whenever you see Tendou’s eyes glitter at something particularly cool that his favorite characters did, your heart becomes warm. It’s incredibly endearing, and you definitely want to spend all day just watching him pursue his interests instead of fussing over you. You want to know more about his hobbies, his likes, and dislikes, but he’s oddly reserved about those topics.

“Which character is your favorite?” You ask in hopes of having Tendou open up and maybe give you a passionate rant, a sight you’ve been wanting to see for a while now. Nudging at his lanky arm, you crawl under, placing yourself in his lap. He immediately sets the volume down and pulls you into a tight embrace, balancing his chin on top of your head. You’re not upset about it, but you’re just a little disappointed. You were hoping that he’d keep reading.

“Do you know any of the characters?” he responds teasingly. You shake your head and pick up the book. “I can start from the beginning if you want-“

“No, no, no! Keep reading.” You’re urging him to continue, practically holding the pages over your head so that he can see them. Tendou laughs, shifts his chin to your shoulder, and complies, taking hold of the book once again. You’re not sure if he’s actually paying attention to the storyline since he keeps peppering you with kisses every few pages or so, but this is a good start. “What’s going on?”

“Curious, are we?” He clears his throat and points to one of the characters. “You see this guy over here? He’s the villain. My favorite, since you asked.”

“Is he…your type?”

“You’re my type,” Tendou coos, stifling another fit of laughter. He continues describing the plot, however, going through what has developed since volume one, each pivotal character, his favorite moments, and unbelievably deep analysis on symbols and events. He’s usually a chatty person, but you’ve never seen him rave over something so personal to who he is as a person. It wasn’t like when he would talk endlessly about something funny that happened or something he saw. Rather, his glow and animated gestures, his sense of comfort, and his lack of restraint keep you mesmerized, and it’s then that you realize that Tendou rarely talks about his hobbies in front of you. You wish he would.

“This is nice,” you murmur, returning a kiss onto his cheek. He immediately stiffens, and you’re a little bit startled. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry for rambling,” he says rather on edge. He quickly closes the manga, arms returning to wrap around your body. “It was boring listening to me just talk about-“

“I thought it was cute though.” You sigh and turn around to face him. Pressing your nose to his, your lips are just barely a few millimeters apart from his. “I could listen to you talk about this all day, Satori.”

Tendou’s not sure if it’s the kiss that you press on his lips that intoxicates him or if it’s the fact that you smell like his shampoo, but for a moment, he feels himself wondering if it’d be okay to let you in onto his hobbies, his likes, his dislikes, and everything that he tries so hard to keep from you in fear of driving you away. Just for a second, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, it’d be fine for him to open up.

iii. “You cried just now like a sobbing child. Even if the future becomes invisible, I will protect you.”

An angel. That’s what Tendou thinks you are when you let him rest his head on your chest and wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him even closer into your comforting warmth. He’s calmed by the gentle rise and fall of your breathing and the soft beating of your heart. The way your fingers rake through his hair, the way your humming fills the emptiness, you’re his safe haven, his sanctuary. His new paradise. He likes how you just seem to know what’s wrong, because he hates to complain, especially to you. He would much rather prefer making you laugh with a funny joke or story, but for now, he lets you play with his hair and caress his back.

You’re humming the song that he often sings for you when you’re feeling down. While you’re not exactly the perfect vocalist, straining at some high parts, you wonder if it helps Tendou at all, even if minimally. He cries quietly, and you wonder if it’s because he’s spent years being sad alone. The thought pains your heart, so instead, you take his palm and place it against your lips, quietly whispering praise. Things about him being more than enough and things that you wonder if he’d laugh at, you pour your sincerity into it all. You know he’ll tell you when he’s ready, so you find a way to pass the time.

“Let’s take a bath, Satori,” you mumble into his hair, waiting to see if he’s willing to get off of you. His movement is slow, reluctant, but you do feel him nodding, getting off of you with his head hung low. He doesn’t mean to be so down, so annoying, and he doesn’t hold it against you if you get irritated. But you don’t, and he feels like he’s the luckiest man in the world. “I’ll wash your hair for you. Come on.”

He holds your hand all the way to the bathroom, refusing to lose contact from the warmth of your skin. Even when the two of you are getting undressed, he’s quickly back to leaning into you in the tub. It’s a little bit difficult since his limbs are so long and lanky, but with a bit of curling up on Tendou’s part, you make enough space for yourself. He practically sinks into your fingers rubbing through his scalp, and you see his shoulders begin to lose their tension. You hum, satisfied, and work the soap around his body, helping him wash up. The smile that spreads across your face when he starts humming back is wide. You feel a little bit dumb, but you’re just so relieved that Tendou’s energy is finally back. The giggles that spill from your lips as he splashes about practically pour out from your pretty lips that Tendou wants to kiss so, so badly, but he decides to wait for a more comfortable position.

He hates to admit it, but he loves the feeling of being pampered. Granted, he was always more of a giver, but he supposes that being on the receiving side of things isn’t as bad as he initially thought, especially when you take the towel to rub against his hair and sit him down on the couch with hairdryer in hand.

“My hair is gonna get all puffy if you use that,” is the first complete sentence that leaves his mouth after returning home that night. He lacks his usual energy, but you don’t blame him. Rather, his soft chuckle sends your own spirits flying. “I’ll look ridiculous.”

“Really?” you muse, plugging in the device despite his protests. “I think you’ll be cute, all fluffy and stuff.”

“Why don’t you get a pet or something instead then?”

“Wouldn’t you get jealous if I paid too much attention to a cat over you?”

He pretends to think hard, then nods his head rapidly. You giggle again, maneuvering the hairdryer around his head. The machine is a little loud, but you can hear Tendou back to his usual humming, moving his body around ever so slightly just to make your task a lot harder than it was supposed to be. You watch as he swings left and then right with a certain mischievousness about him, twiddling with his fingers and then casually flipping on the television to his favorite channel. You’re not sure if he actually likes the show that’s being broadcasted or just the BGM, as he never really watched it and would much rather prefer to listen to the audio only while doing something else.

“Babe, can this be our song,” he jokes before going back to sing the opening lyrics to the children’s show.

“Satori, I don’t even know this show,” you reply, trying to sound exasperated as possible. He knows you’re pretending though and raises a curious brow. Then, he breaks into a grin. “I don’t have a good feeling about this-“

“What do you want to watch then?” His question is abrupt, but his eyes glint impishly. You’d be nervous if you weren’t overjoyed at his newly regained energy. “You sound like you want to do something else.”

“You’ll catch a cold,” you try to scold, but he pays no head, grabbing the hairdryer out of your hand and shutting it off. He tugs at the chord gently, unplugging it all together, and reaches for your waist. He places you securely on your lap. You can only stammer short retorts that are muffled by the energetic kisses he places all over your face. He relishes in every giggle and every squeal that escapes your mouth. Even the ways your eyes crinkle when you’re smiling makes his heart go insane. Suddenly, he stops to rest his forehead against yours. Your gaze almost absorbs him completely, but he doesn’t have qualms about that part.

“What’s wrong, Satori?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

He takes a deep breath. “Do you…mind if I vent a little?”

“You know you never have to ask for permission about that, right?” You kiss him on each of his eyes, each a little bit puffy, and then on his cheek. “I’m all ears.”

iv. “So keep trying to break free to that blue, blue sky.”

It’s always a fun, albeit loud, time when Tendou invites his old Shiratorizawa friends over for his reunion parties. You don’t mind at all, of course, considering that you were the one who encouraged this gathering in the first place. To be honest, you’re a little bit curious about how he acts around his closest friends that he talks so much about. You even wonder if a man like Ushijima Wakatoshi, the one you only see on TV or in interviews, is actually as funny as Tendou makes him out to be. In other words, you expect your home to be loud, but what you didn’t expect was that it’d be loud over you.

“Guys, Y/N’s super-duper gorgeous, right?” he asks for what seemed like the thousandth time that night. He’s set on making Ushijima give in to the fact that you’re the most beautiful person in the entire universe, but you wonder how many times you have to witness the professional’s utter silence at the question before Tendou would give up. “Toshi, you should just give it up already and say it!”

“I haven’t seen every single person in this universe, so I can’t answer,” his friend answers, brushing him off. Shirabu snorts from Ushijima’s side.

“Boo,” Tendou whines, kissing your face. From the corner of your eye, you catching Goshiki gagging. “Can’t you be a little bit more excited over the love of my life?”

“We are excited.” Semi chuckles, whacking Tendou a few times on the back to which the red-head responds with feigned pain. “But we know you’ll start sulking if we go overboard with the compliments.”

“I do not sulk that easily!” Tendou huffs, chest puffed out, and slaps Semi back. He only laughs. “I can’t believe I’m being bullied by a guy with no sense of style at all!”

“I asked you about this jacket before I bought it, and you told me it was fine!”

“You shouldn’t have asked him at all.” Shirabu smirks from across the table, arms crossed. “I bet this smart ass thought it was Y/N texting him instead of you, Semi.”

“You didn’t have to do him like that,” Kawanishi mumbles from beside the former setter. Still, that doesn’t wipe away the smirks they’re both wearing, and Tendou can only chuckle sheepishly.

“Well, what am I supposed to when Y/N looks good in anything?” Tendou sighs. His exasperation and added theatrical flair make you giggle even though you’re slightly embarrassed that he’s showing off to everyone from his old team. “Semi Semi, if it was Y/N wearing that jacket, it’d look great. You? Not so much.”

“That’s the most roundabout way of insulting me.” Shirabu and Kawanishi snicker quietly, earning a glare from Semi that goes ignored. “I suddenly remember why all the underclassmen thought you were such a hassle, Tendou.”

You turn to him in fascination. It wasn’t a surprise to you that he liked to tease and poke fun of other people, but you never thought that he was a bully. You initially had imagined Tendou to be a well-respected senior based on his reputation as a middle-blocker. Never in a million years did you think that it was the exact opposite.

“Goshiki, is that true?” you turn to ask, and the younger man nods emphatically. He’s agreeing with Semi so much that his nods make his hair fly all over the place, earning a loud laugh from Tendou.

“Y/N, Tendou was the absolute worst,” Goshiki answers, setting down his drink so forcefully that it almost spills. “He’d always ignore us when we did something good, but then he’d compliment us for absolutely nothing. It messed me up so much that instead of expecting him to cheer for landing a really good serve, I waited for praise for turning off the lights or something. Tendou was awful.”

“That was probably you being dumb, but I do agree that Tendou was never quiet during practice.” Shirabu grimaces, but you’re not sure if it’s because he just remembered something particularly annoying or if it’s because he’s agreeing with Goshiki. “I never want to go back.”

“I remember one time, he thought it’d be funny to salt the water,” Kawanishi mutters and the entire table breaks into a loud groan. “Yeah, I think I have to agree with you guys. Tendou was a handful.”

From beside you, you hear Tendou tsking and catching him wagging a disapproving finger. “Guys, you can’t insult Y/N like that! I’m gonna beat you guys up if you keep going on.”

“Dude, we get it.” Semi punches him once on the arm and then another time for good measure. “You’re married. You’ve told us a million times.”

“There’s that and the fact that we were, you know, at the wedding,” Shirabu sighs.

“Congratulations.” Ushijima’s comment is a little out of place, especially since the ceremony was already a month ago, and he had been one of the first people that Tendou told, but you only smile and thank him again. “It was an honor to be the best man.”

“Toshi, you don’t have to be so formal, you know?” Tendou grins, resting his chin on his hand. From underneath the table, you feel his other hand reach for yours, running his digits over the silver band sitting on your ring finger. “But really, I’m just reminding you guys that Y/N and I are married. I wouldn’t be surprised if you forgot since you’re all always so busy.”

“Oh, what would I give to forget you?” Shirabu sighs, earning another chuckle from Kawanishi and even Semi.

You laugh at the playful banter between Tendou and his friends. You squeeze his hand gently, and even while he’s participating in a heated debate with Semi over the gray-haired man’s best album, your husband makes sure to return your squeeze. In full truth, Tendou’s still aware of every little thing that you do. It’s one of the many things that have stayed the same over the years. He still sings, and he still likes to mess up your hair, but most importantly, he makes it a point to keep remembering everything about you. Tendou’s aware that something in him has changed, so he reasons that maybe you had your little changes too. And he’d remember all of them.

“Hey, spill the tea, Y/N,” Semi jokes. “Doesn’t Tendou make for a terrible husband?”

“Yeah right,” Tendou scoffs. His grin doesn’t falter and only widens when you shake your head at Semi. “That’s absolutely correct! I’m the best husband ever."

[genuflectx]

Just wanna rant about my job a bit, will probably delete this later. But I think I may quit my job within the next month or so u_u’

Originally when I joined this job last year it was under originations- I helped people apply and get approved for loans, or offered general tech support when they needed help with the process online. I felt like I was helping these nice old people, they were rarely mean (save for the occasional grouchy old man after he gets rejected), and the work load was decent. Not too heavy, not too boring. 

Then the pandemic hit. My entire team, which had been hired only a few months before, were rushed in for “accelerated training” on the credit card support department. I believe it was just like 4 weeks of training for a tooootally different workflow. We worked in the servicing department for what, maybe a month? Then they furloughed a ton of people and managers and moved us AGAIN, this time to collections. So calling to collect debts on our credit card product. When I joined this company it was under the understanding I did NOT want to do collections because it makes me sad and feel shitty. But they promised us we would be transferred back to originations after a bit, so whatever.

Slowly things have gone downhill since. Just tiny things adding up. They implemented a internet speed minimum requirement, which is understandable working from home, but we lost another good chunk of people who got fired for that, some who I’d made friends with. Hell, I got THREATENED with firing due to this, forcing us to run an Ethernet cable through 2 stories of our house. And I was PISSED because I was the only one on the team making a 100% average on QA scores. Then a few people quit, leaving only 3 people from my original originations team. They hired a new manager to oversee work force management (WFM) and quality assurance (QA) around this point and I’m CONVINCED it got worse because of her changes...

They changed our outbound dialing system to a cheaper one, promising all these improvements, and who woulda guessed... the quality of work life barely improved with this piece of crap tech but hey, it cut costs. Next they dismantled the debt management company department (DMC) and trained us in it so we’re technically trained for and work in two departments. On top of the promise that in the far future that they will cross-train us with the loan department too, a totally different product. We also have to do the emails for our department as well.

Then things got bad. Non stop calls for a months. Likely related to the unfortunate weather disasters in our outsourced locations. The outbound dialer, which is an autodialer that WFM loads up with late people to auto-call, starting filling up with impossible amounts of people to call for our agent count. We started going from 5000 to call every few hours to 10,000. And it doesn’t matter if we don’t clear the queue, they will load more in at certain times of the day. So we’d get 10,000 at 1pm, we’d get it down to 3,000 by 5pm, and they’d just load it back up to 10,000 again. 

Then they added on the mandatory overtime. Everyone in our department either has to do a half shift extra on either saturday or sunday- with mine being on saturday. Another person quit (down to 2 from my original team). We’re understaffed as hell and they tell us that they’re FINALLY training a new class. And know what? They ONLY enacted the OT and got a new class because their service levels were down. Service levels are a mandatory legal level of how many agents per how many customers we have, they get in legal trouble when it drops too far for too long. They didn’t give a shit about our stress until their damn legal agreement dropped and then forced the OT on us. Wow. We feel so appreciated. 

And THEN the OT was supposed to go until Feb 14th- today. THEY EXTENDED IT ANOTHER WEEK. 

And and and a few days after they told us it was extended these dudes LAY OFF 3 managers, including our team’s manager, who I REALLY liked, and stuck us into the team of a manager who is notorious for giving out incorrect policy info! Why! >:( 

Some other small things they’ve done that have added up slowly: They sent me a “nice” alluminum mug for my high QA score. Stuck it in the washer once and the pretty gold lettering on the front melted. It also leaks. They do these “thank you” videos some time where the upper management (never faces you recognize save for 2 or 3). BUT they made us watch this 10 minute long “thank you” Christmas video BETWEEN CALLS instead of scheduling time for us to do it like usual. Due to the short staffing, they changed how our weekly meetings with our manager/team go. Instead of having the whole team go into a meeting with her twice per week, they made her split this into 3 smaller meetings once per week, so that 2 or 3 team members meet with her at a time (more people on the floor to take calls). It spread her thin- before they laid her off of course. After they enacted the OT a week or so into it one of the upper management people sent us all an email telling us we basically weren’t doing good enough because our collections numbers weren’t high enough.. KNOWING we’re under staffed, she still emailed that. Come on.

So ya know what? My fiance and friends have encouraged me to just move on. This company isn’t what it was when I started a year ago, and idk if it’s legit just due to covid or if this WFM/QA overseer that they hired near the end of 2020 is fully to blame. I hate hearing customers tell me day in day out about their family dying, about being homeless/evicted. I hate old ladies screaming at me because they can’t comprehend that WE ARE IN A PANDEMIC and the MAIL WILL BE LATE, so their damn paper checks need to be mailed out at least 2-3 weeks in advanced- OR THEY COULD JUST CALL AND PAY LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE. Tired of people insulting me and calling me names because THEY’RE late and THEY missed a payment and they can’t accept responsibility- because they think screaming at someone making a few bucks over min wage will do anyone any good or make their shitty credit score any better.

All this mandatory OT and my nice manager being fired has put a lot of stress on me, if the other crap wasn’t enough. We’re really financially stable in this household even if I did quit, even if I’d feel guilty af. And it could be months before I found another job as safe and well-paying as this one, but at least my mental health would recover.

So I have about a day of sick time and 80 hours of PTO. My plan is to hopefully schedule out all 80 hours, or at least 85% of my PTO if I can, then when I come back to put in a 1 week notice. By then the new agents will be in full swing. I can get the money from the PTO I earned at this shit collections job and then try and move on to bigger and better things. And in the mean time while looking, I can work on art/writing and I can also possibly get a new car with all the money we’ve saved up. My mama and granny might end up disapproving and judge me but 2020 was such a shit year and I’m tired of this. I feel like this job is taking advantage of us and legit just doesn’t give a crap about their employees.

Okay! Well that’s outta my system! Bleck

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER PRE-GAME 9/30/2020: 30 MILES FROM NOWHERE/CONFESSIONAL (2019)

Spoiler alert. Or whatever. It’s not going to matter, you don’t care.

So, I've been away for a minute. Just about any reason to be away from Tumblr is probably a good reason, but I have an especially good one. I'm finally working on a "real" writing project, which demands, and deserves, all of my attention. My social media abstinence isn't just a matter of time management, though. Once I had a long term obligation on my plate, I became very aware of how the short term satisfaction I get from posting mindless rants was eating away at the fuel I have available for sustained efforts. When I wind myself up with a 500-1000 word blog post, it generates a lot of electricity, but I blow it all as soon as I experience the catharsis of posting it, and I'm further pacified by ego-stroking likes and reblogs. Not to sound like a sanctimonious luddite--I mean, I'm still here, after all!--but it turns out that the staying focused on the long haul has been surprisingly revivifying. In fact, I haven't been talking about my big fancy project for the same reason; I don't want to lose any of the juice I've been storing up by wasting it on the shallow pleasure of describing it. Also such things should probably be somewhat confidential until they're approaching the publishing stage, but I digress! There is an actual reason I'm saying all this, that has more to do with this blog.

(Don’t get all excited, I’m not doing EVIL ED right now, I just need a relatable image.)

As I got deeper into my experience of "real" film writing, I started to reflect on the meaning of my personal writing. Like, the point of it. I tend to write in a sweaty, compulsive, sadomasochistic haze, in which I'm sometimes hyperbolically generous, and sometimes--perhaps more often, unfortunately--as nasty as humanly possible. Sometimes the movies deserve it, when they're lazy, pretentious, or otherwise demonstrate an open contempt for the audience aka ME. Often, though, I'm just creating an opportunity to vent my generalized rage and frustration. That can be very entertaining for myself and (hopefully) my teensy-but-devoted readership, but lately I've asked myself whether there isn't some negative tradeoff for all this amusement. In this phase of my life, it's reasonable to assume I'll make more and more friends and acquaintances who create things I don't always care for, but I don't necessarily think they deserve to be abused for it. As much as I have a right to say whatever I want, technically, I'd be embarrassed if I were caught just jacking myself off by making fun of their work in public. And more to the point, I don't necessarily want to contribute to the growing atmosphere in which people feel more afraid to try and fail, because the public so commonly misidentifies sarcasm and mean-spiritedness as intelligence and superiority, and that form of petty darkness spreads across the internet a lot faster than a movie can reach a wider audience. After all, I'm in the process of potentially turning myself into one of those well-meaning failures right now. I could stand to be a little more deliberate about how I speak, and about what, in general.

My father is an art critic, and once in an extra petulant moment, teenage-me asked him in an accusative tone what he thought the point of his profession was. He replied calmly that he wouldn't publish any comment that he didn't think the artist could make use of somehow. I don't know if he always stuck to that policy, but the thought sure stuck with me.

So anyway, over the last few months I've been giving myself a bit of an attitude adjustment, through a combination of personal reflection, and hard work on something meaningful/not for the internet. I've been feeling all proud of myself and shit, but today reminded me that any path to enlightenment is always marked by setbacks, doubt, and temptation. For today, in complete innocence (or at least a melange of innocence and ignorance, as I very much invite this type of problem), I managed to watch TWO (2) movies about an academic film-cum-psychology project, focused on a gang of college buddies who inevitably reveal what bad people they are under the unique conditions of the project, and then the project turns out to be run NOT by its presumed-dead originator, but by the originator's even-crazier lover. It's amazing how particular something can be, and still be utterly obvious and cliche. In my defense, I really tried to turn the second movie off, because it was...just instantly terrible, but the seed of suspicion had taken root--is this randomly selected movie ACTUALLY EXACTLY THE SAME AS THE PREVIOUS MOVIE?--and I just had to find out if this could be true. I suffered, deliberately, for another hour and a half, to confirm my awful hunch. I don't know how I would have felt if I had turned out to be wrong (better? worse?), but I don't have to worry about that now. Now I just have to worry about my overpowering impulse to be as ugly as possible about what I have personally subjected myself to.

(The completely deceptive poster for our not at all witchy or eerie opening feature.) 

In need of a passable time-waster this afternoon, I put on 30 MILES FROM NOWHERE. Released in March of 2019, Caitlin Koller's claustrophobic black comedy feels oddly like a product of 2020. A group of estranged, middle-aged college pals of the BIG CHILL ilk--which one of the characters calls out, out loud, just so ya know--come together for a fallen comrade's funeral, only to find themselves trapped in his widow's increasingly creepy cabin in the woods. Said comrade was driven to suicide by the failure of a psychological experiment he conducted that plunged its subject into madness, and if you don't realize right away that the obnoxious and unstable cast are the new subjects of their not-quite-dead friend's renewed project, then you're firing a lot slower than 24 frames per second. The dialog is often decent, aiding a handful of funny, natural performances...but it's hard to forget that you're just waiting for the conspicuously crazy widow to reveal that the "unexplained events" in and around the cabin are part of a controlled attempt to get the guests to devolve into their worst selves, which isn't such a difficult task considering the undesirable state they all arrive in.

It just made me ask myself, what was the point of this? Why do people make movies that are entirely predicated on the shock of the twist, knowing that if the twist isn't so shocking--or is baldly obvious from the start--then the whole experience just falls apart? Why not hedge your bets with a little more depth, or purpose, or style, or really anything more reliable than a smug attempt to prove that your script is smarter than your audience? Even if you do manage to pull off this dubious accomplishment, it reduces your movie to something like the experience of having somebody jump out of a closet and scream in your ear to "get" you. I've always felt concerned that if somebody ever tries to "get" me like that, I might just automatically punch them in the face. But anyway, whatever shred of good will this movie could have accrued with its plucky performances is blown away by the final insult, when the cops arrive to clean up the inevitable bloody mess. The responding officers are hilariously unimpressed and unsurprised by the byzantine scheme that has resulted in a shocking act of violence, because the cabin's "guest book", which our heroes all filled out, was actually the signatory page of a complicated waiver form granting full permission to the hosts to, like, do whatever the hell they want to everybody. Presumably this shit just goes on all the time, leading the local law to shrug off anything that happens to or because of the dumbassed lab rats who frequent the cabin? I dunno. I mean, what can I say? ACAB, I guess!

At the time, I managed to resist the urge to take to the internet and decry the crimes of this lame-o party joke. I really don't like the sensation that a movie is just trying to trick me into thinking something that isn't true. But, this isn't, like, an affront to cinema. People make annoying, below average movies all the time, and maybe you kinda have to, if you eventually want to make better movies. I imagine myself in the shoes of the people who actually put some elbow grease into this production, having to wade through the rantings of internet ghouls like myself while they're trying to see how their efforts are paying off. Making a movie is probably a lot harder than I think it is.

But that's part of the point I'm heading toward. I'm always amazed by people's willingness to pour huge amounts of energy and capital into something to which there is ultimately very little point. I mean, I have bad, unoriginal, boring ideas every single day of my life. But I almost never DO any of them. I have a hard enough time convincing myself to just get out of bed in the morning, let alone devote blood, sweat, and money to deliver unto the world material evidence of my personal mediocrity. I can't imagine thinking it would be worth it, for myself or the unfortunate people who are subjected to my project, to actually execute on my bad ideas. I'm being judgmental, but honestly, I don't even know if my attitude makes me better or worse than someone who accomplishes the task of completing and selling a movie that's mainly a waste of time. Movies are so complicated, and realizing them requires the consensus of so many people, that it's sort of incredible that there are people capable of making one that doesn't have a powerfully compelling motivation behind it. People who are able to do such a thing obviously have something that I don't, and it isn't just "consideration for the audience."

So, I could probably stand to be more forgiving--or just, less eager to absolutely flay someone alive on my dumb little blog because they so opened themselves up to my arsenal of elaborate insults. But like...not all the time. Sometimes, a movie really fucking asks for it, and in revealing itself to me, it has effectively signed a waiver giving me patent freedom to do whatever I want to it. CONFESSIONAL is the latest movie to give me such a gift. After the final credit rolled in 30 MILES FROM NOWHERE, I looked for a little palate cleanser. As little as I like movies that put their single egg in the motheaten basket of a "shocking twist", I also have a problem with what I identify as canned theater. Not that I think all movies have to be lavish productions, but I think they should try to do something that is natively cinematic. It's very rare that I'm impressed by anything that is literally all talk. So, I went in search of some more familiar form of trash to help me recallibrate, and trash is definitely what I got.

(Me crying over my own bad decisions.)

To be fair, I kind of should have known that I was in for a challenging experience. The 2019 found footage thriller CONFESSIONAL is more or less based on the "confessional" part of sleazy reality TV shows, isolating each cast member in a soundproof stall so they can spill the rotten contents of their guts. Unfortunately, I spotted a review suggesting that the movie succeeded, against all odds, at remaining visually dynamic despite the unchanging scenery, and I was intrigued. The reviewer was correct, impressively; the monotony of the coffin-like environment with its dark foam walls was the least of my concerns. Other problems superseded that threat, immediately. The plot concerns a group of college pals who come together to remember a recently deceased friend--a filmmaker who expired mysteriously while completing a psychology-tinged project in which she recorded all of her friends' most shameful personal secrets. Now, somebody else has taken over the project...someone who "has never been identified", according to an early title card in this movie-within-a-movie (EVEN THOUGH THIS PERSON WILL BE EXPLICITLY IDENTIFIED AT THE END OF THE MOVIE SO LIKE WHY), but who seems likely to be the decedent's ex-lover...who continues to expose their subjects' most shameful secrets on film. I mean, what the fuck? Did I somehow manage to pick a second movie with almost the exact same plot??? I couldn't believe it. I didn't know if I could take it. My prospects only got worse when the cast showed up and started talking. I tried to turn the movie off. I backed out and walked away from it, twice. But I couldn't leave it alone. I had to know if it was really the same movie.

CONFESSIONAL concerns characters who are contemporaneously in college, which actually goes a long way to making everything worse. Each of these walking cliches is connected in some way to Amelia, a film student whose mysterious death has created a campus scandal, leaving shattered hearts and lives in its wake. The living have each received a blackmail-flavored invitation to speak about the deceased in a tiny "confessional booth" somewhere on campus, where, predictably, they find themselves locked in until they confess whatever they know about Amelia, and their classmates. I don't know why practically every single movie about young people has to be so miserable, but this is one of those. I assume that it has something to do with the fact that youth is simultaneously so desired and so ignored. People in their teens and early 20s are so sexually coveted, yet so easily dismissed as individuals, that we wind up with all this media that panders to them relentlessly (or at least, panders to the legions of ticket-buying perverts who enjoy watching them prance around), without almost any consideration of how they actually think and act, and look. Movies like FAT GIRL and  WELCOME TO THE DOLL HOUSE may be accused of their own form of pandering, a venal form of voyeuristic schadenfreude, but at least they reflect something of the awkwardness, isolation, and incompleteness of adolescence; something more than the dissociated, pornographic fantasies of adults who have long since forgotten what it was like to be powerless and ignored, or desired by people who don't even like you.

Not that CONFESSIONAL is supposed to be a work of grim realism, but it is most definitely rooted in a fantasy about college life that makes its contrived, message-y plot a lot harder to take. With almost the sole exception of "the nerdy one", every single character looks like a Bratz doll, oozing an exaggerated indecency that belies the movie's pretentious insistence on addressing the sex & gender Issues of the Day. What you get is a really good example of what happens when millennial characters are modeled, not on any actual millennials, but on other forms of marketing that are aimed at millennials, which are themselves just based on other preexisting youth-targeted commercials, et al ad nauseam. Even setting aside the deliriously slutty wardrobe choices, makeup appears to have been laid on with a trowel, coating each actor in a thick creamy layer of spackle that only makes any scars, pits, or other evidence of individuality look utterly bizarre. Accordingly, everybody preens, pouts, and generally behaves as if they're about to take off their clothes, which might be a huge relief given the profusion of chafing, cheapo mesh and straps they're laboring under.

So, ok, not every movie can have a great costume department, but the dialog here is a perfect match for the disastrous aesthetic decisions. Actually, this is the real reason I almost walked out on CONFESSIONAL. If I may ramble briefly, without substantiating any of my broad-ranging claims: Sometime in the late 90s/early 00s, horror cinema seemed to suffer a degenerative slide away from genuine thrills and chills, and into a version of the genre that is best characterized as the Slutty Halloween Costume approach. Any sense of existential dread, revulsion, or bodily vulnerability was widely replaced by a cutesy, Hot Topic-y preference for fast fashion and sex appeal, in which bloodshed more facilitated an informal wet teeshirt contest than any real fear induction. Horror's new mall goth look came with an equally shallow, boring verbal affectation: a sullen, sleazy, tooth-sucking sarcasm, that ushered in a new era in which, instead of making fun of the scummy coked-out dialog in porno movies, we now expect everybody to just talk like that, because it's hot. There's probably a line to be drawn between this unfortunate development, and the boneheaded real-world trend of identifying "sarcasm" as an important personal selling point on dating sites, but I won't try to prove that here. For now, I will just say that as soon as I heard the CONFESSIONAL characters start to speak, with their sneering, insinuating tones, with the vocal fry, with the head wagging, the jutting jaws, the smoldering gazes, the juvenile dragging-out of horny grownup words like de-bauch-er-y...I almost lost my nerve. Listening to these little creeps hissing and spitting for 84 minutes is a lot like being hit on by some barfly who continues to bludgeon you with his hot breath and corny lines without ever noticing that you've thrown up into your pint.

Uh, anyway. So what actually happens in the movie. Why would anyone ever allow someone to record video of them revealing the ugliest, most embarrassing parts of themselves? Especially a kid, for whom popularity and reputation are often a matter of life or death--literally and specifically, in the case of this story. The flimsy reason is that the late filmmaker, Amelia, was the most awesomest girl ever. Everybody loved her, because she was so sweet, and so smart, and so cool, and so nice, and so deep, and so original, and so talented, and so sexy, and just like, the bestest most perfectest girl in the whole wide world. N.B. "The greatest of all time" is, perhaps counter-intuitively, a really bad quality that makes for really shitty, boring characters. For better or worse, Amelia is rarely on screen (and when she is, she's no Laura Palmer, frankly), so it's up to the viewer to just sort of imagine a type of person who could make you act against your best interests on account of you just like them so much. After all, so many of the characters were obsessed with her in some way, that it's like they're here to help you clap your hands and believe in this seductive, compelling part of the movie, that just isn't actually there on the screen. The anonymous antihero behind the confessional booth scheme slowly extracts from each character the selfish, destructive behavior that in some way contributed to the tragic loss of the most amazing person of all time--and part of the result is, if not a very interesting excuse for Amelia's death, then a story so wacky that I really wish they had centered the movie on it, instead of on the tawdry soap opera we're locked into. Even if that imaginary movie had been really bad, and it probably would have been, at it would at least have been entertaining.

Part of what leads up to the death of Amelia is the existence of a secret school fight club, led by a stereotypically sleazy gender studies major, named Major, who is out to prove men's inherent superiority. The club is called CFB, or Cock Fights Back, which is somehow a garbled pun relating to cock fights, and Trump's famous line of "locker room talk": "grab'em by the pussy" > "pussy grabs back" > "cock fights back". CFB is different from your ordinary fight club in that the fights are always between girls and boys, and the boys are always blindfolded, in order to prove that a fully-abled female is no match for even a handicapped male. To complicate things, a new designer amphetamine is gaining popularity on campus, called "odds-on", meaning that it makes you the odds-on favorite in your CFB fight. As awkward as that is, it also seems that men are never the guaranteed winners of these fights, which makes you wonder why Major insists on continuing to host them. As much as I would have preferred to watch a stupid movie about this stupid idea, I'm stuck instead with a movie in which Major is such an aggressive MRA because he's secretly gay, and he thinks that hating women is a great way to hide that...as if that isn't what we all openly suspect about aggro MRAs. Secret gayness is a big part of this movie, involving multiple characters, although it amounts to very little other than the perpetuation of some stale, harmful cliches about how unfulfilled homosexual urges lead to suicide, sexual abuse, and murder. CONFESSIONAL is just as reliant on this grim vision of gay life, as it is on its weirdly obtuse discussion of drug addiction, for the suffocating sense of self-importance that it uses to try to elevate itself above its porn-y trappings. None of the movie's hot button issues are given any real thought, but are only dragged through the mud to create the illusion that there's a point to all this, thus relieving the film of any sense of innocence that could have made its condescending sleaziness forgivable.

Admittedly, I can't really remember all the details of the film's tortured intrigue anymore, even though I basically just saw it. A lot of its meandering revelations just left me thinking, "Why did I need to know that? Why should I care?" I do know that about half way through this ordeal, I became really anxious about whether it would turn out that CONFESSIONAL did NOT have exactly the same plot as 30 MILES FROM NOWHERE after all, and I put myself through all this for nothing. But no, I was right to begin with. The wonderful Amelia's ethically dubious film project has been picked up by the unhinged lesbian character who loved her so much she wanted to become her, and killing Amelia and usurping her confessional project was apparently the best way of doing that. I guess exposing all the dark, violent secrets of all these tangentially involved characters was just an added bonus, or whatever. Ultimately, this ugly, ignorant PSA about something-or-other only deals itself further damage by relying so heavily on the potential of its clumsy twist to blow your mind, which it does not at all.

So that was it, that's how I burned a whole afternoon allowing my mind to implode-not-explode under the ponderous force of TWO (2) movies about exactly the same exhausted cliche that is still being peddled by certain pretentious assholes as fresh and exciting, and beyond the capacity of the audience to anticipate. There's probably a whole slew of other movies that employ this overly familiar "surprise", but I don't have it in me to dig them out of my long-suffering brain. Feel free to contribute in the comments. For now, I must prepare myself for the ordeal of Blogtober, during which I will *hopefully* choose my screening selections and words more thoughtfully than I have in previous years, when this blog was motivated by just as much abject misanthropy as these movies, which do nothing but willfully insult the audience's intelligence. Maybe today's detour into degradation will help me go forth toward more additive experiences, having purged several lungfuls of meaningless venom from my system, and this season will bring with it more interesting, provocative posts than the last. Or maybe not! In any case, I promise to keep trying my hardest to make it funny.

PS I actually love both FAT GIRL and WELCOME TO THE DOLLHOUSE. I’m “just saying”. 

[strawberrymarshmallowstories]

Ice Queen (Gods&Goddesses AU) - Kim Seokjin

What the-

Your nose tickled with a familiar scent before you saw it - the bouquet of blue roses as waves of the ocean, the tips fading to depths not many witnessed in a lifetime. But instead of appreciation or surprise, a curse slipped from your lips.

You ran a scan on your psychic shields.

Negative - no irregularities over the past 12 hours.

It would’ve been scary hadn’t it happened before. The main house scan from security office came back a moment later - also negative. As always, you logged it for further investigation.

One day they were bound to make a mistake.

But when? And how?

Teleporting left a detectable trace. It could be masked, but not eliminated. You ran another scan on the bouquet itself - the flowers came back as pure, energetically untouched.

Human handiwork?

A tilt of your head, eyes narrowing at the inanimate intruder. Impossible. To bypass security, to bypass your rock-solid shields without a trace.

But despite all that, somehow still, at least once a year you woke to a bouquet of blue roses at your bedside. Blueberry-blues to arctic ice, from matte navy's to robin-egg blues. Unimaginable colours, hadn't you seen it with your own eyes.

A quick twinge along the familial line and your sister's energy greeted you before her long-limbed frame. As she danced through the doors, her long white dress flowed around her with a life on its own.

But her joy was short-lived.

'Again?' A whisper, her steps slowing to a reluctant gait. As the morning rays touched the flowers, tiny bursts of light erupted on the blossoms. As if small fireworks had sparked to life between the delicate petals.

You’d never heard of such talent for manipulation. With big eyes specialists deemed it impossible, all while clutching to the rose as drops of deep red stained their skin. But thorns mattered little with magic petals between their fingers, nose in the blossom as if its scent was a drug.

That they hadn't turned this into a fortune was a hint of their power. And wealth.

Ania leaned closer. 'It's kind of romantic though. Absurd, yes, but romantic.'

With a scoff you pulled a robe over your gown, soft yellow over black silk. An unexpected gift from your sister because you needed some sunshine in your life.

As a reply you’d almost iced over her aquarium.

'Cowards.’ You jutted with your chin as she pulled you into a hug. ‘It’s more creepy than what-not. How many years has it been?’

'Immortal’s infatuation lasts way longer. But hey sis, it’s not worthy enough to ruin your day.' A squeeze. ‘Happy birthday.'

Your arms wrapped around her on its own. With days being counted and her excitedly packing her bags, you wanted to laugh and cry the same. Accepting a position at the Union should've been a happy occasion.

But she'd chosen Alta on the other side of the world.

'I really don’t want to go in today. Can't I just burn the whole building down?'

She only laughed, having been there for many of your late-night rants. About Ancients and their Seconds who had no proper concept of time, about their minor territorial issues blown into elephants - the bare thought gave you a headache.

But you’d accepted it as a part of your job. You’d long realised Ancients didn’t see time as everyone else - they had centuries long behind them, a pebble in the ocean compared to yours. You’d once asked your mother how Ancients would ever respect you with their age against yours. She’d only laughed and told you to grow thicker skin.

Your sisters’ wink jolted you back to reality, mischief streak a spark in her eyes. 'You want me to do it? Oh please tell me yes!'

Different from yours, your sister had fire flowing in her veins, one that made her locks flow as lazy flames licking dry wood. It had placed its claim just after her first decade - early but not unforeseen. But what made her unique apart from her winning smile and olive-kissed skin, was the mark on her shoulder. Worn with pride, a medallion of a true claim.

Not many could take pride in it.

You, on the other hand, had been born from the other side of the spectrum. Ice queen, as per the hushed whispers. Ironic, as the roses always held an imprint of icy hues, as if a reminder of who you were.

'Would you like to come along?' You asked with a hopeful tinge. Ania had been there for your many risky escapades which had your mother breathing out fire, and her silence had earned your unwavering trust. Because even between family members trust wasn’t a given.

It had to be earned.

But today she only shook her head. 'Don't take it the wrong way but the Union you sure scares the hell out of me.' A theatrical shudder. ‘As if possessed, you know?’

You shrugged but couldn't hide a smile. 'What can I say, it’s a gift.'

‘Sis-,’ she said, her tone alert. ‘You may want to get dressed.'

Warning and uncertainty in one.

'Jin just, ported in?' A question of wonder, as if she herself doubted the pathed words. ‘Are you expecting him?’

'Not that I know of.' You scanned over your mental calendar. 'But let him in, he’s not the type to leave.'

Ania finished telepathing with a frown, seating herself in an armchair under the squared windows.

Every god had its own essence, something to warn the people ahead - a feeling of the sorts, that made weaklings scatter and called strong ones to attention. Energy reacted to his every footstep. It gathered around him, drawing nearer to the silent power humming through his veins.

He’s beautiful. Ania pathed with a nervous glance.

A fact. He was, even for an immortal. A muse for artists of many species since - whenever he was born. With his energy as a prided cloak he had nothing to prove - even his role as Lindiana’s Second a status to envy for.

He greeted Ania first with a kiss on the back of her hand that barely touched.

Before his gaze fell on you.

'Happy birthday to my favourite princess.' He mocked a bow, dark hair tickling his forehead, silken as if asking to be touched. But it was his eyes that had you pinned - deep earthy browns, whispers of warm summer nights and honey on the tip of your tongue. Tempting in a way he must’ve known.

And intended.

'Appreciated, not many call me a princess these days.' You leaned against the bedpost, arms crossed. ‘But I'd prefer not to see your face first thing in the morning, Jin. So why are you here again?'

He only smiled as he took in the surroundings, the space filled with the most luxurious of fabrics in the richest colours - ones you’d selected personally and had travelled lands to acquire. Ones heaven against your fingertips, of softness only cashmere could grasp the edge of.

How unlike you, and he must’ve known.

You shifted in your spot. The games he played, you didn't know how to win.

'Actually I've been demoted to a pickup guy.' A glance at Ania. ‘Summons.'

‘What is this about?' You forced your shoulders to straighten. Even when you felt nothing without your usual suit of straight-cut trousers and a blazer tailored to fit every curve.

'Incident on Ancient lands, your mother asked me to get you,' he said just as the buzzing datapad stole your attention.

Rebel activity in Alexei’s territory. Summons have been sent out, documents forwarded. Seokjin will pick you up. - Mother

'I’ve always wondered why my mother likes you so much,' you asked as much as sighed. 'What do we have so far?'

'It’s the charm,' Jin dragged out as you headed to the closet room, his voice loud enough to carry through the divider wall. 'But for the incident, lots of fire, no casualties.'

Nothing that’d normally require immediate summons. But your mother had a reason for everything.

'By the way.' His eyes skimmed over the formal suit as you walked out, twirling a blue rose between his fingers. 'Nice flowers.'

You cast him a narrow-eyed look.

'A special occasion? Or perhaps a message?'

He handed a rose to Ania who graced him with one of her sweetest smiles, her cheeks flushing to the skin of a ripe peach. With the dimples sharp as if encarved into her skin, even Jin held her gaze as if to breathe in her beauty and joy.

'That's none of your concern.' You threw a knowing glance at Ania. You'd seen those eyes work on its prey. She had yet to learn that Jin was never anyone's prey.

He was a hunter.

'However, Jin.' You refrained from rolling your eyes, focusing on perfecting your low bun. 'You're a pretty good teleporter--'

‘--one of the best, as a matter of fact.''

An obnoxious irritating man.

‘Is it possible to teleport something without appearing with it?'

A tilt of his head.

'An interesting question.' He ported another blue rose into his hand as he set his steps towards you. 'This information doesn't come cheap. What do you need it for?'

No other god would flinch at the proximity, and neither would you. Even when goosebumps ran down your spine and down to your fingertips. So you held his gaze as he stood before you, although your instincts demanded you run.

Your breath hitched at the gentlest brush against your neck. He’d tucked a rose behind your ear. 'And here I thought you didn’t like me.’

'Alright, that’s enough.' You shoved at his chest. Away, you had to get away. 'I don’t know how these flowers got here overnight. My security office detected no movement, neither did my scans find any breaches.'

Jin rubbed the spot on his chest. ‘I'm sure your shields are of steel. Then either a human or a family member.'

Human, perhaps. But a family member - not an option you'd ever consider. You glanced away. Stark contours stared back from the mirror, with a glint in your own eyes you’d never seen. But that didn’t faze you, not when silver flicks played in your hair.

Only a bare hint. As on the roses, until hit by sunlight and the chaos ensued.

With the look you threw at Jin, anyone would’ve been quivering in their boots. But Jin was an insufferable man not fazed by much. 'And no, nothing out of the ordinary.'

Jin ported a feet closer, making you jolt when his chest almost touched yours.

'You need a list who's been here for the past three days and why. Teleports can be set up and traces can be covered - the best can do it 48 hours beforehand with an inanimate object.'

A sharp inhale and you took a step back, one out of instinct. 'Stop doing that, you're setting off my shields.'

An excuse. A pathetic excuse that went on deaf ears as his hand came up to your ear once more, a brief touch before brushing aside the rebellious glittery strand. ‘It suits you well though.’

You swatted his hand away.

'You think it's previously set up?' Ania voiced, a grin on her lips at the unfolding theatrical play.

'Who knows, we all love a little secrecy around here, and you go around in pretty high circles. I think someone’s trying to impress you.' Jin sauntered across the floor, taking a seat on your bed as if that was the most natural thing to do. Back in the playful element - one surprisingly more comfortable. And predictable. ‘And some immortals like their lovers cold and stiff.’

You heard Ania gasp.

It would’ve been an insult had it not been Jin. But today your eyes lingered - on his suited up frame against the backdrop of your messy sheets.

You bit into your inner lip, body stiffening at the tightness in your belly. He was pushing your limits, he always did. This was your home field, a place where you were supposed to be your strongest. But still he smashed through every shield, every facade that kept you safe.

'I told you to stop,’ you muttered under your breath, hands balling into fists. Clutching for control under a veil of anger.

Silly silly girl.

He smiled. 'I don't think they'll make a move. Perhaps a message. What did they call it back in the day--’ he trailed off, a low hum at the back of his throat. ‘Desire for the unattainable?'

You shoulders tensed.

He’d spoken the same words as the old flower vendor many years ago. In an antiques store in the middle of a human town, he’d spoken of meanings humans placed on flowers. A human folklore passed down through generations.

But if Jin knew of it...

Ania's laugh pulled you out of your thoughts, the sound bubbling through her whole being. 'I'm sorry sis but it makes sense. You, uh--’ A quick glance at Jin. ‘Shoot down anyone who dares to approach.'

'I could care less,' you hissed back. It hadn’t been a choice, but a necessity. Because if you slipped once, someone could die.

And everyone would find out you were flawed.

'And you.' You pointed at Jin, lowering your outermost shields to initiate a psychic link, just enough for a teleport. He accepted it without hesitation and held out his arm.

You never had that freedom. Every single touch and mental contact had to be calculated and prepared for. A single wrong move and you could betray yourself.

And once you tucked away your darkest memories, you accepted his arm and the room turned into a whirlwind of colours.

~

 'Oh great, you're here - here’s the files,' you heard as soon as the energy materialised into familiar grey walled conference room. Your fingers clutched at thin air, digging into your palms, close to drawing blood. All to silence the past.

It always happened. The nightmarish demons had first found you when you had been no more than a babe. It was then when your mother had learned of your wide broadcasting affinity, when your scream for help blasted through every single pair of ears in the household.

You’d asked her many times about that night, but she always chose silence. Although her eyes spoke of sadness, of a little guilt and of secrets she’d one day take to her infinite sleep.

Luckily no one questioned your fears. To anyone, teleporting came with careful consideration due to risks imposed - it was a sign of great trust.

But in this case, you had to trust your mother’s judgement.

Because you knew, no one wished to be on the receiver end of your mother's wrath. You'd seen it, seen the power she held and the mercy she did not have.

Yes, she was your mother, but she was also a warrior queen.

'Wasn't that Jin?' Madeli piped as you sat down, her hands sorting paperwork to be reviewed. 'I thought you hated his guts.'

You scoffed. ‘My mother seems to like him. And I think she likes it when we don’t agree.'

'I wish he'd pick me up in the mornings, how romantic would that be.'

'Depends what you consider romantic,' you retorted. The room had started filling out, most entering in silent discussion. You nodded at everyone who glanced up, a couple of silent-mouthed greetings. ‘But you hate commuting and he loves women, sounds like a fair deal.'

Madeli lowered her voice. 'Did he ever do something to you?'

You shrugged and skimmed over the first report.

'It's about him not leaving me alone.' You handed her a signed document that disappeared into one of her many organisers. Once you wondered how she carried it all, and then recalled a queue of others that stayed behind for a kind word in exchange.

Maybe they had more commonalities than you’d thought.

A dreamy murmur under her breath. But your attention had already been stolen, by the friction in the air that had grown to a point where you could no longer ignore it. Too much energy in one space.

This time many territories had come as a pair when only one presence was required. The rumours had spread.

An Ancient had been struck.

Madeli finished with the attendance list and stepped down from the podium. After a nod at the closest guard, you started with the ancient incantations that came as second nature. Pages and pages of words that now slipped off your tongue, but once had taken a year to remember.

Fed by each Ancient’s contribution, the barriers could hold in anything. As a Mediator, at times like these you got a slight taste of their power.

A heavy mass, too heavy for frail shoulders. One could only be born to hold such power, and you were not one of them.

With a tight-lipped smile of control, you raised the outer barriers. As a barriers master, it was your job to keep it intact, to stop the energy from the world.

You cleared your throat, eyes browsing the crowd just as the microphone light flashed green.

The energy of the room focused on you. It was massive, possibly destructive even when constrained. The energy peak was also why Ancients rarely met in one place, and if they did - only under supervision.

Although civilised to a certain extent, one offensive remark and chaos would ensue.

That’s where you stepped in.

'This will be short. Alexei is still forwarding us the reports.' A quick inhale. 'It is true, his territory has been struck. And by someone with ancient control and strength, or something close enough.'

Quiet gasps and low murmurs around the room.

That should've been impossible, a pact of peace confining Ancients not to strike unless formally challenged or attacked. It had taken a century, endless hours of work and negotiations until everyone’s energy prints decorated the Terra Agreement.

If someone overstepped it, the Terra Union had the right to strike back as one.

'It's not one of us, as far as we know. The energy pattern doesn’t match our database, so we’re currently leaning towards a group channeling.'

Glances around the room - some of suspicion, some of surprise. Channeling was an ancient art lost in time. One not practiced or taught due to its inefficiency - it drained the participants of energy and could render them useless for days. No god would willingly leave themselves this vulnerable.

'I need access to energy reports for the past week, of any imbalances in each territory. We believe they yield fire as a general element but we cannot set it as a limit.'

You knew that didn't say much, earth elements only a basic affinity and could be trained. But this one had been nothing but simple, this energy had expanded until the verge of bursting.

Add fire into that mix, and you got what humans would call a bomb.

This required a long buildup, of months at least.

'Alexei is feeding information back to us as we speak, including ash samples. We will also get Yoongi's team dispatched shortly.'

'The one with the human? Is the human trustworthy with this?' A female voice jeered from the back. Lindinia, a goddess from a neighbouring territory to Alexei's, the one to steal your sister away.

Her eyes narrowed even further at your delay, making the resemblance with her cat uncanny.

'The human's a she, and she worked as much on the Lux medication as anyone else in that team.'

Silence. It had only been a remark, one you could've ignored but didn't. Everyone in that room knew of the specialised research team, one of the best in the immortal world with queues up to decades. And many of them had orders in for research costing billions.

Even with a human on it.

'However, while you're already standing, would you please share the incidents from your today's report?'

While gods kept to their own territories and upheld the value of family ties, there was a reason your family was in the middle of it all.

Aethra family were Mediators, ones who'd brought the lands together through a psychic network. And for that, they'd earned their respect from Ancients. They had even gone further to form the Terra Union, to work on justice with fairness extended to humans, gods and Ancients, and even creatures rarely seen in your realms.

But in the middle of it all, even the Union couldn't escape mundane politics.

And so your own special broadcasting ability had been skillfully buried under barrier-mastering and shield specialisation that gave you this job. But apart all the ranks you'd earned, your mother still considered you a weapon she'd protect, until the reveal was absolutely necessary.

Which hopefully never came to be.

Because that meant war.

Because what you could do wasn’t supposed to be possible - to blast out a message to any living being, or the whole globe if you so wished. Terra psychic network worked through signal transmitters, family members with broadcasting affinity, where they lent their abilities to connect others directly.

But you didn’t need signal transmitters for pathing, you didn't even need to link into the familial Terra network.

You somehow bypassed them all, exempt from any regulations. That meant you couldn't be tracked and left no evidence.

A weapon.

When Lindinia spoke, the calamity of her voice shushed the whole room. 'An energy bubble burst yesterday, exactly 24 hours before the incident. The centre was in the middle of an uninhabited forest. Sadly, no witnesses-'

'Not this again!’ A loud voice rumbled through the space. ‘I will not risk with the rogues getting to my territory! I'm out!'

In these moments you understood what your cousin Karter, another Terra network transmitter, meant with the impression of a burly bear. Still as handsome as any god, Rangeet held stark masculine beauty only the bravest would invite to their bed.

‘You can't.’ You said, stating what should’ve been obvious. ‘Your comms links will break and we need your link as much as you need ours. Karter can’t hold up your network on his own.'

His eyes blazed, fists clenched.

'But it's your choice Rangeet. You can go back to using phones, handy little devices that humans like. You can even give me a call sometimes, let me know how you're doing.'

You watched his eyebrows turn into a frown, his Second tapping on his arm. Phones could be too easily hacked, its signal picked up midway and destroyed without ever reaching its recipient. It was too easy, a child’s play.

Whereas Aethra transmitters could forward a message and no one would even know its contents. Once a link was initiated, it formed a secured bubble around the parties, formed from both energy fields and invisible on the psychic plane.

'Once we get our hands on those ash samples, shall we attempt a location teleport?’ Jin’s voice sounded and your eyes met his, a glint of amusement lingering on his lips. ‘Surprise them a bit? I'm sure Markir would love a slight exercise, that old man is turning grumpy.’

‘That’s right, let’s get the trackers on the energy lines,’ Lindinia cooed, her eyes flashing with her own power. ‘That would set a great example.’

‘No,' you interrupted. ‘They haven’t killed anyone yet. We’re sticking to the agreement. Trackers have already been sent out to scope the possible areas and so we wait. And prepare.’

‘Are the lines enough for an energetic photo?’ Jin asked and you glanced over at him again - while a reasonable question, you shook your head.

‘Not enough to attempt a teleport. I will not risk losing any more trackers on this.’ What you left unsaid was clear to anyone. Attempting a teleport on an incomplete energetic photo could be fatal.

You’d seen photos once, the torn limbs and the still beating heart halfway spiked through. Sickening. You took a breath to focus.

‘Let’s continue.’

~

'That was tough, Rangeet was so close to ripping out Jin's throat,' Madeli giggled as you both headed out, two pairs of heels clicking on tiled floors.

'I wish he had,' you muttered as you nodded at Lindinia. The goddess with feline grace in a hushed discussion sent back the faintest of smiles. Jin only nodded in acknowledgement, as per the etiquette. Nothing more, nothing less.

'I really have no idea what's up with him,’ you continued once you passed them. ‘He just… really irritates me.'

‘Well, my darling,’ Madeli started, her arm linking over your shoulder. ‘If you haven’t noticed, we’re all a little weird around here.’

Yeah, you'd definitely noticed.

‘But tell me,’ she hushed. ‘A little bird sang of a secret admirer.’

Damn it Ania, you sent another twingle along your familial line. You got back airy bubbles, showing her glee and joy. In hindsight, the rom-com loving secretary and your sister’s fiery soul had been a bad introduction.

‘Who knows, it’s been going on for years,’ you confided as you glanced into the mirror. The glittery strand still remained, but no one had mentioned it. They probably thought you’d lost it. ‘Please also schedule a meeting with Yoongi for later this week. But be careful, he’s in a foul mood.’

‘Of course.’ A snap of her fingers and her organised beeped. ‘What will you do about the stalker guy though?’

You touched the scanner pad and the doors slid open before you. Almost as large as your living quarters, your office space welcomed you with its delicate design and minimalistic interior - a perfect balance of cool ice you represented. Beautiful work, done by another cousin who’d pursued an alternative career path.

‘It’s beyond me.’ You plopped your bag on your desk and headed over to the windows. The view of the city was breathtaking in any weather, the streets bustling with immortals with a human or two thrown into the mix.

The room echoed as Madeli dropped a folder on your desk. ‘Anyway, Alexei just sent through additional energy reads, I’ve passed these on but there’ll be a copy on your datapad. No updates from other teams.’

‘Thank you.’ You glanced over your shoulder. ‘And listen, is it just me or something's not right?’

On your birthday, of all times. When you wanted nothing else but to relax, bask in the sunlight and laugh at silly things that didn't matter.

But a hunch was a hunch.

You didn't ignore hunches.

‘You want to fly over there? A plane would take 2 days and you can't leave for that long. Would you like me to schedule a teleport?’ Madeli checked her organiser. ‘The earliest is tomorrow morning, 7am?’

You shook your head while horrified somersaults ransacked your stomach. One teleport too many in one day.

The nightmares always waited, at the dimensional space you'd vowed to stay away from as a child. That's the only vow you'd ever broken.

‘Today.’ Your heart sunk. ‘Can you contact Jin please?’

Madeli’s raised eyebrows asked questions you didn’t have answers for. 'But he's not an official Terra teleporter.'

‘It’ll be fine.’ You assured, yourself more than her. ‘Sadly he finds me too amusing alive.’

A reluctant tilt of her head, nails clicking against the datapad. A quick affirmative nod a second later.

‘He said he’s free in about an hour, and that.. he’d love to spend some quality time with you?’ A quirked eyebrow. 'Are you certain?'

You slipped out of your heels, rubbing at your calves. ‘Positive, and thank you, I'll get some work done, so let me know what needs immediate attention.’

A shrug as a grin formed on her lips. ‘That's what I do best. And you must keep me posted on your date.’

You would've thrown something at her, but papers did not quite fly well.

 ~

[realchemistry]

Avengers: Endgame Review

Spoilers inside.

So I was up early to work. Then went to see the movie. Then rushed through a very late lunch and went to work to another school. I’m home now. I’ve had time in all the betweens (bus time, basically) to think the movie through, and here’s the mess that’s come of that:

First of all, the audience were al F - A - N - S so everything that happened got a proper response, so yay for that.

Steve, oh, my Steve. I fucking knew it was gonna go that way. The moment they had him talk about Peggy as the love of his life, and then about how many gizmos they had and how they were just enough to go and return, and whatever. I was sure they’re gonna have Steve not come back at some point. And then, turns out, they had to put the stones back where they belonged. Fantastic.

And Bucky knew too. Of fucking course he did. 

“Gonna miss you, buddy.”

“It’s gonna be ok, Buck.”

FUCK ME.

Can we talk about how unfair the whole of it was? Cause, like, hurrah! There’s a gay character who’s played by a Russo interacting with Steve. And Steve used the good ol’ Bucky trick to get Past!Steve to stop. And Stucky hugged and had a First Avenger callback. 

Guess what, Marvel? That ain’t enough to fill whatever LGBTQ+ quota you think you’re filling. And I insist: You had a witch fall for a cyborg, but two men we actually know and care about being in love is not at all possible in your universe?

FUCK YOU. Seriously. I’m mad.

I’m mad cause of course they didn’t make Stucky happen. I knew that, they just weren’t going to, not ever, the fuckers.

But they’re also making me feel mad about what Steve got, which in their eyes is a happy ending. And I don’t wanna be mad that Steve got a happy ending, but I am mad that it was all very heteronormative, and there was never going to be any other way. I’m not sure I’m making sense, but like, also, Steve kissed Peggy’s nephew, which ewww. And like, how was Peggy the love of his life? How long did he actually spend with her? Explain. And was it a Peggy from another world or how did that even work? And how did Steve get old? Was that supposed to happen with the serum?

And why in the fucking hell would he choose to live his life without Bucky?

Can someone explain that to me. How come Bucky is the most important thing and then, once it’s not a plot requirement anymore, he becomes an afterthought. Honestly, this was a fucked up thing to do. Like, no, I’m sorry, I can’t celebrate Steve “getting a life” when he left his Bucky behind. The one he fought for in all the other fucking movies we’ve seen them in. That you fucking created, Marvel. FUCK YOU.

Let’s move on, or I’ll never end my rant:

I loved the exploration of the past with the present day characters. Steve’s was obviously the one that stood out the most. The moment he set foot on that elevator, I swear, I was fucking giggling, and the way he bypassed those fuckers... and his beautiful, lil’ ass.

His lil’ worthy ass, and we all fucking knew it.

“On your left.” HELL YES.

There’s gonna be a Marvel series with Bucky and Falcon... This Falcon? Won’t he be Cap? IDGI.

Will Bucky visit old!Steve? How will Buck move on? I--yeah, no, back to the other things:

When the screen read “Five years later” we all freaked the fuck out. It was awesome.

Nat. How the fuck, who do they think, I mean, they just keep killing women, cause there’s so many of them, and all are as important, since they’ve always had them front and center in this universe...

That was just awful.

A guy behind me was sobbing at Tony’s death, and I thought it was funny cause he couldn’t keep it in, and kept trying to not be so noisy anyway. I felt a bit evil, tho I was also tearing up, but mostly cause of Morgan and Pep, since Tony... well, I never liked Tony much.

Is Gamora from the past in the present? Will she be back, since Quill was looking for her?

Loved the small bit where Marvel ladies got to shine. Small because, Marvel being Marvel, went all Girl!Power for a second and then got tired of it and went back to a men’s world.

Even though Carol is clearly the most powerful in all the ‘verse and her being knocked out was ridiculous as fuck.

“It was him or a tree?” I LOLED. Give me Nebula forever. Also, her sorta friendship with Rhodey, yes!

Like Val said, I don’t think I like this weird Bruce Banner/Hulk situation. And I thought he didn’t get to mourn Tony properly.

Fat Thor... I feel like there were so many wrong things with it, but Thor was amazing regardless cause Chris is fucking fantastic. I loved his moments with Frigga, I was so sad about her death (and I still think the soundtrack had to do with it a lot), so it was good to have her back. 

“Eat some salad.” LOL

I loved Scott so much. He was great and hilarious and lovely.

I think the more Marvel tries to get me to care about Clint, the less I do. I don’t even know, I think it’s that awful press junket a few years back that ruined Renner for me, and I just don’t give a single flying fuck about Clint. But I do love Laura cause of ER, so I was glad to see her.

All in all, I did enjoy the movie, and I was completely unspoiled, once more, so I knew nothing, not a single thing, and I loved some of it, liked a lot of it, and hated some of it too.

Music, cinematography, most of the script was on point as per usual.

It had an ending feel to it, for sure, and I don’t know how I’ll feel about what’s to come when there’s no Steve, at least not our Steve, to look forward to.

I’m legit forgetting everything, my head is a mess -- I swear I felt traumatized for real after it was over -- so I’ll keep adding whatever comes to mind, but this is it for now.

Oh, and the “What about Bucky?” chants feel more appropriate than ever.

[starboybellamy]

i need to rant

so my boss just came to me and was like “don’t murder me okay” which immediately puts me on ready alert one because oh fuck. so she tells me in as little as one month’s time, we (meaning me and my team) are going from one process per week (which is already a 14 hour day AT LEAST) to two processes per week, one on MONDAY, which will require us to work on saturday and sunday as well as a 14 hour day on monday, a 12 hour day on tuesday, and do it all again for our normal thursday process. 

ON TOP OF ALL OF THAT, i am in charge of writing all of our documents (i know you guys probably don’t know what the cGMP world is like so bare with me) which is a full time job for other teams AS WELL AS being in charge of our inventory, which one other person does for her FULL TIME 40 hours per week JOB. HER FULL TIME JOB IS INVENTORY MANAGEMENT FOR HER TEAM. SHE DOES NO PROCESSING, NO DOCUMENT AUTHORSHIP, NOT A DAMN FUCKING THING ELSE AND I AM EXPECTED TO NOT ONLY MANAGE OUR INVENTORY, BUT WRITE ALL OF OUR DOCUMENTS AND PROCESS TWICE PER WEEK FOR 14 HOURS/DAY. AND THEY REFUSE TO GIVE ME A RAISE AND/OR PROMOTION.

not to mention two of our team members are practically part time because they take classes so they’re gone for hours at a time, the last person we hired quit, and they haven’t filled her position yet. it takes a full year to be fully trained on our process and i want to pull my hair out and quit all at once

but i can’t fucking quit because i need to do things like PAY FUCKING BILLS AND THE BENEFITS HERE (OTHER THAN THE SHIT FUCKING PAY) ARE RIDICULOUSLY GOOD AND I NEED TO HAVE HEALTH INSURANCE FOR THE MEDS THAT THIS PLACE MAKES ME FUCKING NEED.

I’M GOING TO COMBUST.

[toasttz]

How to make games: RPGs

Hey! You like RPGs, right? If you don't I have to wonder how the hell you found FAN, given our two most-active subboards being vidya and tabletop RPGs, but, whatever! Let's, for the sake of argument, assume you like RPGs. If you don't, fuck off, Greg! ... I don't know anyone named Greg, I just wanted to see if I could screw with people named Greg. Anyways, RPGs, like the houses in Harry Potter, come in four distinct flavors: traditionalist, gonzo/comedy, h-game, and "Inspired by EarthBound/The Mother Trilogy". And much akin to Harry Potter, only two of these houses actually fucking matter and the other two are just hangers-on of different genres and ages. If you're going to waste the player's time by making your H-game an RPG, you are going about it entirely wrong. Please stop dumping this unabashed garbage-fire of a subgenre on Steam, the market is beyond saturation point and requires arm floaties to compensate. And for those of you who played/know of EarthBound and want to make a "spiritual successor"... just stop. Please for the love of God, stop. There never really was a demand for this kind of thing and EarthBound was not a commercial success, so just stop if you have any humanity left in you. I don't think I can stomach anymore fucking quirkiness after the last installment - anymore stuffed down my gullet and I'm gonna shit out a My Hero Academia OC next time my bowels move. So, in truth, you have two flavors of RPG: the traditionalist and the comedian routes and both can be equally terrible. Traditionalist RPGs range from the swords-n-sorcery setting found in Ultima, Dragon Quest, and good Final Fantasy installments to the sci-fi, cyberpunk, steampunk, and emo shit found in bad Final Fantasy installments - it's a wide gauntlet. The only prereq is that you take your own storytelling relatively seriously, with some level of gravity involved in the overall major story beats. Since traditionalist RPGs are made by people with crippling insecurities about change, and the game will largely succeed or fail on the quality of its characters, I'll go ahead and make your cast for you. I'll avoid giving them names so you can customize them: I mean, some people like their fantasy heroes to be named something like "Bulk McUlraeoth Sword Arm of Jupiter" and some people like their fantasy protags to be named "Jim". Who am I to judge your self-insert fanfiction? Sword McHero Man - The guy with short brown or black hair and a generic face done by a B-list manga-ka and, depending on if you want to make him a chillaxed everyman or an edgy edgelord, you can add or subtract belts, zippers, pouches, and black clothing items according to need. He'll almost always use a generic one-handed sword and have fairly short hair. If your game strongly favors an element system, he'll be either fire or light-affinity, but not have any actual strong convictions beyond the fact that he hates 'bad guys' and probably gets his head dunked in toilets by at least 3 NPCs in the starting town. Anything else about him is ultimately superfluous and interchangeable with the next Sword McHero Man over. Childhood McBestfriend - Oftentimes a female foil to the above, but not required by law to be so. Sometimes this doubles as Sword McHero Man's Suave Cool McLancer. They will usually fill a supplementary combat role in the party, either the thief or the healbot as the story requires. If they are the love interest, they are required to be Worst Waifu(TM) by law and be replaced as soon as a competent party member fills out the roster. Typically wind or water elemented in nature, they'll either help calm the hero-man down if he is the hotblooded sort, or cheer him up if he's currently got his head dunked in a toilet. Suave Cool McLancer - Either a rival or thematic foil of the hero and maybe a rival for Childhood McBestfriend's affections, depending on story necessity. He will be a more specialized unit, either the rogue, the heavy-armor knight, or the attack mage. If male, this character will be Best Hasbando and be incredibly pretty or horrifically scarred and/or disfigured with no potential in-betweens. If female, uncommon but not unheard-of, she'll be the team's big sis figure and likely the most powerful, physically speaking. Potential for Best Waifu(TM) is high, but can also potentially double as Back McStabberton. Back McStabberton - The dark, angsty, clearly-untrustworthy one who the player will see their betrayal coming from a mile off, but will completely blindside the naive heroes. Usually they'll have stats inconsistent with the party (being either over or under-powered depending on context) and clash with their bright, anime-esque color scheme by wearing blacks or dark purples. Either a thief or attack mage of some flavor. Almost universally a male or a "devilish handsome rogue" if they get redeemed at some point. If female, they will always be DOUBLE AGENTS acting with the hero's own good in mind and will promptly be forgiven. Usually dies before the game is out. Grandpa McTeacherperson - Some plot-pivotal character who exists to either give the party a special tool, weapon, or ability they wouldn't have gotten otherwise, or elsewise transfer their own talents to the party in some fashion. Virtually irrelevant as characters since these exist exclusively as jaded props to die off to make the villains' actions more personal. Please stop using this archetype or at least TRY to subvert it into something interesting, you talentless lazy fucks. Sexy McFaceTurn - Invariably one of the bad guy's hot ladies will see a boyish charm in the hero, even if the hero is supposed to be projected upon and therefore would actually have the social skills of a duck - or worse, me. What? I did that joke already? Fuck you, this joke's still more inspired than the Tales games RPGs. Anyways, upon getting wet for the hero, she will abandon her post and all its luxuries and join the party, clad in tight, black leather and probably using either knives or whips and will be your prereq dark-affinity character. She will be the sex appeal your game sells on, so be sure to slap her on all your promo materials even though she doesn't join until the mid-late game. Male versions of this idea die. I can't explain it - it's some straight-up Mr. Poofers dark magic, they just die. Annoying McMascot - Your game needs something bizarre to round the party out with. A talking dog is common. A fantasy creature with bright neon colors is also acceptable. Just make sure that players hate it with every fiber of their being. If the design alone isn't enough, give it an annoying speech habit - like a verbal tic or a lisp - and have it talk a lot and repeat the obvious a lot. It is by law that this must be implemented. However, unlike any of the above, this, coupled with the hero, cannot be killed off. And that should more or less do ya, unless you're the type who wanted to pour dozens upon dozens of dudes into your game. In which case, congrats, you understand that doing the absolute base minimum to be called a "game" isn't the bar you should be shooting for and therefore are already on your way to being better than Squeenix. Next, you need to get to codin'! So go on Steam and buy the latest RPG Maker software when it goes on sale. You won't need to wait long, between the Summer and Winter sales. Once you have that, you already have built-in art, music, and character makers. Fuck it - creativity is hard, so let the software tend to that itself. Make some characters and name some locations, jot up a map with some landmarks and treasure, then make a bad guy. Bad guy making is easy, they all wear black or dark reds and purples and tend to always call themselves "The [Whatever] Empire". You don't even need to be arsed to make a motivation for their evil schemes. Have you seen how much Fire Emblem Fates raked in just on the goodwill left over from Awakening? I'm surprised JRPGs aren't made by fucking algorithm these days! Anyways, that just about does it for the traditional RPG. Comedy RPGs aren't quite as bound to the above and are, in fact, encouraged to break the mold. If you need some ideas to get the creative juices flowin', there's a game you can try out, you might have heard about it since I haven't stopped fellating the damn thing since I did the LP back in 2013: Hourai High. Your plot doesn't need to make sense and is better off if any causality is merely coincidental. Your characters shouldn't really be trying to 'save the world', per se, but should do so by side-effect of their selfishness and/or incompetence. Your team should have robots, aliens, fucking CheetahMen, I don't fucking know, but take everything I said above this paragraph and throw it into a shredder, make it confetti, and wail on established convention! Sweet fucking mother - BE CREATIVE. I'm gonna temporarily break facade here for just a second and say this: you know how you bitched about Final Fantasy 15? How it's a fucking boyband music video with a fucking car commercial crammed in it?! How you hated the hallway simulator of FF13? How no one bought Bravely Second? How Dragon Quest keeps getting away with remaking the same fucking game?! Here's your chance. Flaunt on the establishment. Fuck what is "popular". Make something new. Don't try to be Shigesato Itoi. Do your own thing. Break the conditioning. Get out there and make a fucking game. Make it so when people say "RPG Maker Title" on Steam, they aren't saying it like it's a four-letter word. Put some God-damn soul into it, people! And now, off the soap box. Bonus points if you add a dating sim. Just saying. Rune Factory 5 just got announced. Now, get to work. Congrats. You now know how to be the most fucking boring milquetoast thing on the planet and how to avoid that ass-cancer and do something that actually expresses your individuality and possible talent. This is the one time I'm allowing these rants to be somewhat uplifting. You're welcome.

[blog-childmindermummy-blog]

Starting out as a Childminder

Childminding is not as easy as it may seem thinking about it. I decided to become a childminder after having my second baby, because i wanted to go back to work and after becomming a mum it is very difficult to find a job to fit around your schedule. 

below i have listed the pros and cons of becomming a childminder. 

Pros:

Can work the times and days you want 

Can charge what you like 

Can spend more time with your own children 

Cons: 

You have to stick to ratios and include your own children

You have to consider child care on sick days and won’t be paid for them

Your home will not feel your own 

It's exhausting

Like any other job there will be good days and bad days. Some days you will love your job and some days you will be stressed and cannot wait for theday to end. Childminding is very unappreciated in some aspects and we don’t always get the thanks that we deserve. You need to be organised, prepared, and patient. And remember that your not on your own. there are always people to talk to when you need to ask questions or have a rant. 

To set up your business there are a lot of steps to take and it is a vey timely process ranging from 1-2 years. 

Childminders care for children on a domestic premesis this would usually beyour own home. 

You need your qualification. You can take a course specifically in childminding or take a level 3 course (1 year) which is the one i took. Keep your options open, if you take the level 3 you can use this to go into a nursery if you was to change your mind. 

You need to apply to go on thechild care register, which there are two of: 

The Early Years Register is compulsory for you if you are planning on caring for young children (until the child has reached the end of the reception year in school)

The Childcare Register has 2 parts:

The Compulsory part of the Childcare Register is for you if you are planning on caring for children aged 5-7 years.

The Voluntary part of the Childcare Register is for childminders caring only for children over 8 years.

You don't have to apply with Ofsted if you are only looking after children over the age of 8, look after children less than 2 hours a day, are the child's parent/guardian, care for children in their own home, babysitting between 6pm and 2am, only tutoring.

i applied for both, because i offered holiday care i could look after children of school age as well. 

If you live in a rented property:

If you live in rented accomodation you need to check with the terms of your rental/leasehold agreement to see if you are allowed to operate a childminding business from home. You will certainly need your landlords/leaseholders written permission.

There may be a clause in the agreement that states you can't operate a business from the house, but the landlord/leasholder can change this clause if they choose to. Sometimes a proffessional conversation explaining the registration requirements, risk assessing etc. alongside what insurances are in place can help a landlord/leaseholder to see that there isn’t an huge increased risk to allowing a person to childmind from the property. It is recommended that you discuss this directly with the landlord/leaseholder and not their agent.

If there is a mortgage on the property, there may be a clause that says a business can’t be run from the property, but childminding businesses are often looked at slightly differently to any other business and may excluded from this.

There is tenants insurance for fixtures and fittings that a childminder can purchase to help reassure a landlord/leasholder their property is covered by insurance and allay any fears about extra damage to the property.

If you are allowed to childmind from the property, expect to provide any extra safety equipment needed such as fire blanket, stair gates etc. yourself and make good any fixing holes etc. before you move out.

If the landlord/leaseholder still insists you can't childmind from their property, there is nothing else you can do as it is their choice whether they allow childminding or not.

Once you have done all of the above you will then need to: 

Do a child protection course (you can do this online, some councils like you to have this done face to face aswel. But i went by what Ofsted advised and only done mine online) Refresher every 6 months.

Do a safeguarding course (online) Refresher every 3-6 months.  

Food safety and Hygene Level 1 course (online) 

Female Genital Mutilation Course (online) Refresher every 6 months. 

Some of these courses cost (£20-£40) it’s worth looking around for the best price and that you get a certificate once completed. 

be registered on the Early Years Register and/or the Childcare Register. (£35) for under 5′s. And (£104) for 5-7 years. 

hold an up to date paediatric first aid certificate. To renew every 3 years (around £90)

Be on Disclosure and Barring Service (DBS) checked. Find out more information (£52.10, anyone over 16 who lives or works with you needs a DBS). Update service is not a requirement anymore but costs £13 per year if you choose to do this (handy if you want to go into a nursery). This could take a few months to complete.

You also need your documents checked by a professional or if the post office check them this costs around £10.50.

You will need to show the professional your ID documents, like a:

passport

driving licence

utility bills

bank statement

Get your Health deceleration booklet filled in by your doctor (£35) Do this asap, this could take a few weeks to get done. Download the form here:  https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/become-a-childcare-provider-health-declaration Email and post to Ofsted. Always keep a copy as they tend to lose it.  enquiries@ofsted.gov.uk 

complete a childcare course (£250-£400)

Pacey Membership (£59.50)

have appropriate insurance cover, including Public Liability Insurance. (£28.90) with Pacey, but haeto be a member. 

ICO registration (must have for data protection) (£40)

Deliver the Early Years Foundation Stage for children on the Early Years Register. Keep upto date with the Early Years Foundation Stage 

Let your local council know. give them a call find out who deals with childminders in your area. 

Have your policies and procedures in place. Do not necesarrily need them printed but kept on a computer when needed. I use Twinkl for this as they have them all. Always double check them to make sure they are up to date and have allthe relevant information. 

Ofsted will come out to you to do an audit, make sure you have everything you need and test your knowledge. This could take 2-5 hours nd will mark you Met or Not Met. All inspectors are different and have there own way of doing things. 

Some of the things they are hot on are: 

Female Genital Mutilation (FMG) 

Safeguarding Procedures, what to look out for and what to do. 

DBS certificate 

First Aid certificate 

Course Certificate 

Home insurance (business) 

Car Insurance (business)

Utility bills (last 3 months, showing address)

Observations 

3 planned activities covering all areas (Ofsted will tell you the age ranges you are required to cover) - Good actiivities that cover all areas are, Playdough, sensory baskets, sand and water play. 

Know the EYFS from the back of your hand. 

Doing a SEF is not a requirement anymore, but always worth having so you are prepared and can go back on your notes if you need to. 

Childminder First Aid box

Fire blanket / Extiguisher 

Accident and Incidents, Medical procedures 

Procedure for Lost child on outings (Emergency cards, alert staff etc)  

Keeping parents upto date with day to day routines and activities (Diaries, newsletters, meetings) 

Keep alcohol and harmful substances locked away

Make sure garden is child safe 

Fire alarm risk assessments 

Diversity in childcare (books, dolls, posters, toys etc) 

Toys, arts and crafts, books, outdoor equipement

How do you plan on children keeping physically active (3 hours a day) park, garden, outings etc. 

Keeping doors and gates locked 

drop of and collection precedure 

Consider Sleeping areas 

Data Protection ( where will you store your data and files) 

Register self employed with HM Revenue 

You cannot start childminding until you have recieved your certificate from Ofsted. 

Apply for childcare grant through the government. You could be entitled to £500 (Not looking after SEN children) - £1000 (SEN children) include this is finances as a wage. 

The start up costs of Childminding can be between £1500 - £2000. 

[gay-kurapika]

I just went on a whole rant in my mind about the HOA fee because it hit today and I saw the email reminder and got mad. Okay, so how the fuck is the transaction fee $9.99? To pay with a debit card? Online? When it costs that much to pay over the phone too, and they’ve never given me an address to send the check to? That’s fucking ridiculous, it does not cost that much in labor to process a payment, and they’re getting that from 12 buildings with 6 condos each. And then let’s fucking talk about what I’m supposedly paying for with their required $170 oh excuse me now it’s $200 plus a $9.99 processing fee since they did an “assessment” to raise it to while I was at work and sent the letter warning me there would be an assessment postmarked the day after they did it and this assessment didn’t even check anything in my house since no one was there to let them in so they looked at the door and said I have to pay $30 more per month. Here’s what I’m supposedly paying for: garbage, sewer, water, and wifi. I could do all of that cheaper than $200 per month. Okay they say they’re also doing “hallway maintenance and upkeep of the clubhouse” so cleaning right? Well I know for a fact my downstairs neighbor has been the only one cleaning the hallways since I moved here, and that my fucking roommate cleans the “clubhouse” that is broken and run down and a piece of shit I don’t want to pay for and don’t use. They’re supposed to shovel the sidewalks and put down salt on the ice in the winter, well guess what? Someone in building four shoveled all winter and he wasn’t getting paid, and I take a cup down to spread salt in the parking lot every day. They did put a bucket of salt down in the hallway at least, thanks for your two second effort. They’re also supposed to be filling the one fucking dog poop bag dispenser on the entire 12 building complex and it hasn’t had anything in it for a year and a half so that’s a joke. You buy your own or you’re an asshole who lets your dog shit wherever. What the fuck am I paying for? They do nothing. They tried to sue me for $10,000 for a water leak caused by someone else in the building and only stopped because I wouldn’t stop arguing with them over email and phone because I fucking knew it wasn’t me who caused it. HOA’s are a scam!

[automatismoateo]

In response to a question in a recent thread where someone asked me to go in-depth, here's a description of my experience in Education and teaching Science in Arkansas and why I finally quit. via /r/atheism

Submitted July 11, 2021 at 11:22PM by paxinfernum (Via reddit https://ift.tt/3ALPxPr) In response to a question in a recent thread where someone asked me to go in-depth, here's a description of my experience in Education and teaching Science in Arkansas and why I finally quit.

The only thing that matters

Here's something you need to understand first. In most rural districts, pretty much any idiot can get hired to a position and stay there as long as they don't piss off parents too much. The people hiring you don't really understand what you teach, and the parents don't understand or care what quality teaching is, but they care if you say something that offends their backward sensibilities. What that effectively means is that your ability to teach and stay on has more to do with being in sync with the community, who are usually racist and batshit paranoid. If you aren't in sync with that, you either have to keep your head down, or you will eventually get harassed into leaving due to vague complaints.

Abusive parenting is normal here

Okay. So starting with my student teaching. The woman I worked under was a total fucking psychopath. She bragged in the teachers' lounge about how she disciplined her daughter and people don't discipline their kids like that now. By discipline, I mean she told a story about how she chased her daughter down a hallway, dragged her by the hair of her head, and spanked her until she was raw. This was part of a story where she was bragging about how well behaved her daughter was due to her parenting.

If you're wondering if anyone pushed back against this, the answer is that they didn't. They were nodding their heads in affirmation. That's the problem with rural schools in a nutshell. The community hires from the community, and the community is backward as shit and filled with people who were raised in abusive conservative fundie homes. The parents, by the way, loved that teacher because she wasn't one of those soft "liberal" teachers. Parents, more than anyone else, wanted us to hit their kids and were always disappointed when they didn't get spanked. Child abuse is a way of life down here.

Teachers who are fearful of knowledge

Okay, so this woman was a science teacher. That's what I trained to teach. Science. I did so because I wasn't just one of those "science is awesome" Sagan-heads. I genuinely cared about teaching science as more than just fun facts, but as a methodology for uncovering the truth. I naively went into the field thinking that's what most science teachers would be like. I kind of hoped that I'd at least find a community of like-minded individuals in this ignorant state.

Over my entire teaching career, I literally never met another science teacher like me who was pro-science and pro-skepticism. They were overwhelmingly either just dumb and teaching rotely, or they were conspiratorial and fearful of science. This is exactly what an Arkansas school board wants out of a science teacher. They know they have to teach science, but they are afraid of science and see it as the most dangerous subject to teach in their little fundagelical minds. So they hire people who are afraid of science.

That crazy woman I trained under? She ranted about drones being used to spy on us. She told the kids GMOs were dangerous, and she told them homeopathic medicines were something she'd researched to help her friend with cancer. She wasn't unique in that regard. Every other science teacher I met in Arkansas was terrified of GMOs and had some conspiracy they wanted to rant about. One teacher's bugaboo was allergies and how he thought more people were getting allergies because of chemicals being put in the water. He brushed it off when I said it was probably due to more sensitive testing. Another teacher told their students the most horrendous and completely inaccurate facts about nuclear energy.

They're not sending us their best people

The point is these people weren't the best and brightest. Often, they weren't even adequate. One guy I worked with became a science teacher because he needed something to teach alongside coaching. He was dumb as a box of rocks and just barely passed his praxis exams after three tries. I know most people weren't going to ace these tests like I did, but the cutoff for a passing score in Arkansas is hilariously low. Yet, when he finally passed, it was only by a single point, and he recounted it to me like it was only by the grace of god.

Another teacher, a math teacher who was probably the worst speller I'd ever met, got certified in Texas, which has a lower standard for math, and he transferred his certification to Arkansas. So he only was able to teach math in Arkansas on a technicality. The way it works is that you only have to be recertified if you let your certification lapse. All that's required to recertify is doing 30 hours of PD per year, and then, every couple of years, you have to do the recertification process. But this idiot was too stupid to do that, and he let his certification expire. So then, he was teaching math without a license because he couldn't pass the Arkansas tests. (You're allowed to teach for so long as long as you're pursuing certification.)

Propaganda and Indoctrination

Half of the teachers I met might as well have been missionaries. It's illegal to push your religion or politics on students, but fuck if anyone will actually enforce that. Actually, let me step back there. Fuck if anyone will actually enforce that unless you're liberal or non-Christian. The state is an unofficial conservative theocracy so if the teacher wants to rant about gays or Jesus, there's very little chance any parent will even bother to complain. (Even liberals around here know they're outnumbered and won't win.) Even if the parent complains to the Principal, they'll only "have a word" with the teacher in question, most likely to have a chummy conversation where they eye roll about the parent and discuss ways they can continue to evangelize more subtly.

Even if the Principal is the type who takes this seriously, the teacher will only get a vague note in their file because no school board around here is going to fire a teacher for proselytizing children. They don't want the school to get burned down by an angry mob of Fox News zombies. Even if it makes it to the state ethics board, I've seen the state ethics board literally do nothing about a counselor who ignored a suicidal student, a teacher who was caught drunk driving, a superintendent who was manipulating the system to siphon more money into the school, and so many other things. The only thing the ethics board actually takes a license away for is cheating on standardized testing (got to keep our corporate donors happy) and actually fucking a student. Even if you bring a teacher up on proselytizing, they'll get a warning and be back in the classroom the next day.

So if you're a kid in a rural school, get ready for your teacher to unsubtly tell you about how Jesus is such an important part of their life or straight-up rant about the Democrats. When I was a student in Arkansas schools, I had teachers tell me: 1) All gay people should be thrown in prison 2) HIV-positive patients should be shipped to an island or burned (it was the 90s) 3) the Jews brought the holocaust on to themselves by rejecting Jesus 4) the teacher was boycotting Levis jeans because they supported gay people. That's just a sampling of shit I heard as a kid in Arkansas from freaking teachers.

While working as a teacher, I knew of teachers who latched onto kids with poor home lives and invited them over to their homes so they could do "prayer studies" with them. The kids went because they were kind to them and offered food. In case you're wondering, they got away with this because it was a husband and wife, so parents allowed it. (I'm just going to say that I'm actually quite certain this was entirely above board sex-wise. I knew the individuals, and while I despised what they were doing, I knew they were entirely sincere.)

Another teacher, a Trump supporter, went into a rant about how they needed to give all the teachers guns to fight off school shooters (because restricting guns in any way was tOtAlItArIaNiSm.) I nodded along because I was smart enough to know disagreeing publicly will get you shunned or harassed. All I could think in my head was "Dude, if they ever give you nutters guns, that's the day I quit. There will be 10 dead kids within a week." On that topic, one teacher I know of grabbed a student by the throat because they were pissed at them, and they didn't lose their job.

The history teacher, the one who wanted us to all have guns was teaching that the Civil War was about tariffs. You heard it here first, ladies and gentlemen. Hundreds of thousands of people went to war over tariffs that were at their lowest point in decades. It had nothing to do with the people they owned and shackled up like a Saw movie. The Civics teacher pushed Trump election conspiracies.

Another teacher, who had a family member who had a terminal illness and was literally only getting their medical treatment paid through Obamacare would go off on rants about Obama and transgender students.

Harassment

At one point, I was harassed by the campus cop. He found out I was in support of BLM, and literally screamed at me. Later, he transitioned to simply refusing to acknowledge my existence. Like, if I said anything to him, he would pretend he couldn't hear me. The dude was fucking insane and filled with hate. I'm pretty sure his domestic situation with his wife was abusive due to things he said. He was so angry and radicalized that it was never the students I worried would be a mass shooter. It was him. I was literally afraid he would come in one day and shoot the place up. He wasn't an oddity though. Every one of our resource officers was racist and unethical. One was running a vaping ring with students. Another took special joy in cracking down on Latino students.

Eventually, I started getting harassment from students though, and that's what led to me leaving. There are two things that led to increasing harassment. First, I had one conservative student who hated me and surmised that I must be a Clinton supporter. I never said that, but because I was one of the few teachers who didn't violate the rules about discussing religion or politics, they guess that I was a liberal atheist. So they started working to get me fired.

The second thing is that the Arkansas standards changed so that teaching evolution became part of my classroom standards. Just so you know, most schools in Arkansas don't actually teach evolution, even though they're supposed to. The way it works is teachers put it last on their things to teach, and oopsie, I just ran out of time at the end of the year. Some teachers know evolution is real, but they don't teach it because the backlash is too much to take. Others don't teach it because they're fundagelicals themselves, so they go along with the informal conspiracy to not teach evolution. I say informal conspiracy because it's not like they all get together in a back room and decide this. It's just the culture and incentives are all there to not teach it.

I actually taught evolution, and while I had always dealt with some degree of negativity, looking back, I have to say that was the point where I started getting a lot more. I can't emphasize enough how brainwashed these kids were. I'm not saying all of them because there were absolutely kids who believed in evolution, but they were in a minority and knew to keep their mouths shut. But it's sort of staggering to try to teach the history of the Earth and have a kid repeatedly try to prove to you that there was a global flood.

How harassment actually works in the real world

This is the thing I want people to understand. Harassment in the real world isn't usually as obvious as in a movie. No one drives by your house and throws a brick through your window. No one calls you up and leaves threatening messages. No one will ever fire you for being liberal or an atheist. Because these people are dumb as fuck, but they're also very clever at being shitty people. They know they can't walk up and say to the school board, "Fire so and so because they're teaching evolution." They know that's illegal technically.

So they just start making up vague complaints. Principals, even ones who were supportive like my last Principal, are reactive. If a parent comes to them to complain about a teacher, they're going to assume the teacher did something wrong and needs to be talked to. So the girl who found out I was a Hillary Clinton supporter suddenly decided I "made her uncomfortable" and "looked her weird." The great thing about these types of innuendos and character assaults is that you don't have to provide any real facts. It's all about how you just don't like that person. Remember that teachers are one of the few professions where you can actually be fired simply because the community doesn't like you.

So that fell flat because, like I said, my Principal was actually decent and understood how flimsy that was. So then, that girls boyfriend made a complaint about how I'd yelled at him in front of all the students. Unfortunately for him, this supposed incident happened while we were in a part of the school with cameras so it was obviously bullshit. However, parents calling in upset is still a big deal so I was told that I should try to be nicer to him in the future and win the parents over.

The point is that it's basically death by a thousand cuts from little gripes and exaggerated concerns. Another student flat-out lied and said I cussed them out in class. I know that some of this was actually instigated by a staff member who didn't like me. So they encourage students to complain about me. At one point, I know they actually set up a kid's parents to lodge a complaint against me. I know this because the language of the complaint was obviously written by them, and when I was having the parent conference, they actually stayed behind work (something they never did) and didn't leave our adjoining rooms until it was over. They apparently wanted to listen in and see how it went. This conservative teacher at various times: told me the wrong place for a meeting, got kids to say they would show up for an after school event and then not show up, convinced an entire group of students to quit a club I was sponsoring, spread rumors about me to parents.

I'm done

The final straw was covid. I tried to stick it out, but the day a kid told me he wasn't going to wear a mask because "Biden isn't the real President" was the point where I decided I was done. This came from teachers too. The biology teacher wore a mask below their nose. The staff refused to stop having potlucks throughout the entire pandemic. Some people can't be saved.

edit: I forgot to mention the English teacher I met while I was doing my student-teacher training. She was forcing her class to write essays on how Obama wasn't a real US Citizen. All throughout my teacher program, I'd been told over and over that you could get fired for talking politics in the classroom, and this bitch was literally forcing kids to write essays about how Obama was a secret Muslim. And nothing was done about it. She could get away with it because Arkansas is so white and racist. To put it into context, the county she was teaching in was 94% white and voted for Trump by 78% in 2020.