#I feel like I’m bargaining mental health for time and money

[yearning-butch]

Just venting in the tags, I’ve got nowhere else to

[hacash]

ted lasso 3x02 thoughts

Listen, I think we can all agree that this episode could pretty much be titled ‘Trent Crimm: Return of the Crimm’. I’m not even a big tedpendent girl but this was definitely their time.

I loved seeing Trent back at Richmond! It’s going to be great having more of James Lance on the show: one thing I did think was that Trent had definitely lost a little bit of his customary swagger – he’s back at Richmond but he’s no longer dominating the press room, he’s very much now in the jock-dominated locker room where the Roy storyline made it clear that he no longer has that commanding power that he did in the world of journalism (James Lance’s headcanon that Trent got into sports journalism because his dad wanted him to be into football – Trent is both of that world and not of it - lives in my head rent-free), and the entire arc of this episode was a really interesting way of easing Trent into this scene.

Being a non-sports, non-celebrity, non-rich person, the one gripe I often have with Ted Lasso is it very much takes the rich celebrity jock-ish status of the team as given – of course the himbos are justified in being paid ludicrous sums of money, of course it’s funny and not unsettling that Jamie thinks of non-celebrities as ‘muggles’. So having Trent, who’ll be the first locker-room-regular to come from a more academic, working-a-regular-non-sports-job-background, will be an interesting dynamic switch.

Roy’s entire arc with Trent just stabbed me in the heart. I always knew there had to be more to the ‘you’re a colossal prick and you always have been’ line and now I feel so freaking vindicated. And whoever pointed out that Roy refused to carry on the cycle of condemning teenage players back in s2 as a pundit…argh.

AND HE CARRIED THAT REVIEW AROUND WITH HIM FOR TWENTY-ODD YEARS. (Apparently the British comedian Eric Morecambe did a similar thing: carrying an old bad review of his first television appearance with him for the rest of his life despite reaching unparalleled success in his heyday. *sniffles*)

The one thing that was slightly jarring about Trent’s return was it felt like everyone (except for Roy) was surprisingly chill about him being at Richmond, considering that he was the journalist who broke the story about Ted’s mental health problems (Keeley even mentions gunning for Trent in the S2 finale). Of course, Ted being Ted we can assume he did a lot of sticking up for Trent at the time, but this only turns us back again to the big, painful, heart-stomping elephant in the room…how much does the rest of the Richmond crew know about the leak? And if it does ever slip out, how exactly is that going to go down?

On that note, I was under the impression that we only had to suffer more of Rupert if we also got more delicious Nate angst and arcs into the bargain. The fact that this week we had Rupert’s gross manipulations and no Nate is just a slap in the face.

(Anthony Head remains so wonderfully evil though.)

Zava! I’ve been hypothesising about him since leaked pictures of the first West Ham match hit Twitter, and I’m really interested in seeing where he goes…though, I’ll be real, right now he strikes me as just a prick. And not even a dumb, amusing prick like s1 Jamie (who I knew I was going to have a grudging soft spot for back when he piped up about the snacks being shit), but just…a prick. We’ll see though. I’m also really looking forward to seeing Jamie’s reaction to Zava: if he doesn’t like sharing the spotlight with another ace, or if it’s seeing the primadonna beneath the glamour and not wanting Zava to hurt his team.

And speaking of Zava’s hire…Rebecca’s takedown of him was magnificent, and her ability to be dragged into dodgy business decisions just to one-up Rupert are being played for laughs right now…but let’s be real, this show always plays things for laughs before turning the tables on you. Which basically means: this is going to hurt like a motherfucker.

Also REBECCA WAS THE OTHER WOMAN?!?!? God, that adds so many layers to Sassy telling her she’d hurt people while with Rupert. I cannot wait to find out more about that, it’s already hurting my heart.

DANI SCORING A GOAL WITH HIS FACE. Also his puppy dog excitement about Zava, which I’m sure won’t come back to bite him in the arse later.

I love how Higgins is basically the Richmond equivalent of Varys – he has his contacts everywhere, and no secrets are secret from him.

Keeley and Barbara! Honestly, I’m quite here for where this is going – Barbara’s attitude in this ep unkind and, let’s be honest, pretty classist when it came to Shazza(? Keeley’s model friend?), but also you do need someone to be boring and sensible and check the numbers when it comes to running a business. I’m hoping they keep working together well.

And that moment when Keeley watched Roy come back to Chelsea *lip wobble*

Actually, that entire Chelsea return moment…

AND the knowledge that Roy left Chelsea and Keeley because he couldn’t bear to be left… That revelation hurt. Not even Ted batting his eyes cartoon-anime-style could take the sting out of that kick to the chest.

Jamie continuing to go from strength to strength by trying to comfort Roy (unsuccessfully) in this episode, in his own unique fashion. ‘Old people are jumpy because of the war’ was incredible.

Not nearly enough himbos in this episode, I’m sorry to say, but the scene where they react to Zava, Trent, and Roy breaking up with Keeley was a thing of absolute beauty. And Beard’s shriek at the news was both hilarious and justifiable.

I’m also fascinated by the choice to have the himbos identify the best tactic to fight back at the Chelsea match, rather than Ted – it’s the second time in so many episodes when someone else has stepped up to do something which would traditionally be Ted’s role, and I’m wondering if there’s a pattern here. (And if there is, how Ted – who’s clearly uncertain about his place at Richmond – will interpret that.)

God, I almost nearly forgot that this was the episode where we found out that Isaac is a student of kinesics (Renaissance man!) and apparently regularly checks out Roy’s arse. Here we were all thinking Colin would be confirmed queer this season…is McAdoo about to sneak in from under our noses?

Also the post-gym scenes made this the episode where I realised the Greyhounds are definitely sporting a somewhat more...athletic look this season. I may have to put together some s1 v s3 comparison pics to be sure about this. Stay tuned.

[juno-verse]

Wow, surprisingly I'm posting here rather than on AO3. I figured one-shots will go here and long fics will stay there. This idea popped into my head and I thoroughly enjoy soulmate AUs.

Really just a short fluff one-shot.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None, maybe one curse word. Injuries/Gun shot

Summary: Every pain (physically or mentally) your soulmate feels, you feel it as well. Your soulmate's pain seemed to never cease and it made you want to help them. You're a doctor here :D

It was late at night and you just got home from your night shift at the hospital. Your hands were numb after hours of surgery. You opted to work for a public hospital because you wanted to help those who need it more. While most doctors seek to work for private and high-end hospitals, you chose otherwise. Despite being sought after by many hospitals, you figured you would dedicate yourself to those who could hardly afford healthcare.

And well, also the fact that your soulmate seemed to never stop hurting – physically and emotionally. Physically, when your soulmate hurt it would range from a small ache to a seething pain on the spot where they injured themselves – it depended on the severity of the injury. But you will always know the gist of it.

You found that your soulmate was always hurt. Sometimes, it was your arms aching for no reason – you figured maybe they liked working out. Or your thighs burning like you used them for hours despite being sat all day – again you thought your soulmate was just a health junkie. Emotionally, you feel whenever your soulmate is in distress. Your soulmate never relaxed their mind – you felt it every time their head raced or when their head was aching.

You had always thought maybe your soulmate was an athlete. Not until when you felt a stabbing pain to your thigh. It was different than the aches before, this felt as if you were actually stabbed. Perhaps, your soulmate was into some deep shit and you never knew what.

So, you dedicated yourself to being a doctor. To help others, and maybe in the future to help your soulmate.

Personally, you never gave your soulmate that much trouble. Maybe that one time you had a sprain from PE class. Or the times you were memorizing and studying for recitation or for finals. You were 100% sure your soulmate was able to read your mind with how much you memorized the names of the different body parts and formulas.

Now, you were a full fledged doctor renowned in her field.

To your surprise, a knock resounded from your door this late at night. Thinking nothing of it, you approached it and opened the door.

“You should be careful opening your door to people, Doctor Y/L/N.” A bald man with an eyepatch showed up on your doorstep. “Uh, who are you?" You gulped and avoided his gaze in fear.

The man avoided your question. Rather, he berated you. “You graduated at the top of your class, interned for then instantly offered a job for one of the state’s private and high-class hospitals, and you have an eidetic memory that could remember events from years ago. Not only this, it was said to be that you have steady and accurate hands when operating. Yet you chose to work for a low-paying hospital, why?” The man made himself welcome in your small apartment and you were too scared to stop him.

“E-Excuse me?” You stuttered, utterly confused as to who this man was and how he knew all of this.

“Nick Fury, director of S.H.I.E.L.D.” He spoke and turned to face you. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Fury, sir. Now, how the hell do you know who I am and what do you want from me?” You whispered and gripped your door knob, ready to run out of your apartment.

You knew of S.H.I.E.L.D, who wouldn't? They were responsible for grouping together a bunch of heroes called the Avengers. Who knew this trespassing man was responsible for it?

“Before I tell you, you must answer my prior question.” The director asked and you raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

“I believe there are lots of doctors who are already in the big leagues, making money out of their profession and the oath they took – adding an insane amount of money for a simple check-up. I work for those “low paying” hospitals because who else will help the smaller people if not those who remember why they became doctors in the first place?” You answered then the S.H.I.E.L.D director hummed in agreement.

“I am here to hire you as the head doctor for S.H.I.E.L.D.” He simply answered and you could hardly contain the shock in your face. “If you expect me to leave my job just to work with superheroes, then maybe you need to do a little more digging. I will not leave my job.” You retorted and he grumbled.

“Then work for S.H.I.E.L.D discreetly while doing your other job. You will not always be confined in the headquarters but it is expected that you work with us more.” Director Fury spoke clearly and you thought about it.

After working out the details and more bargains, you agreed that you would work for them if it was needed. When there was no diagnosis and they needed a second opinion, or when doctors were afraid to do impossible and life threatening operations.

With a shake of each other's hand,

“Deal.”

----

That was three months ago and actually, you had yet to meet all of the Avengers. You had met Bruce because he was a scientist and a doctor. You often bonded with him and discussed theories with each other when given the time.

You had met Steve because he was apparently the captain and he had wanted to see the new addition to the agency - the head doctor that didn't work fully with them. He had yet to know your full reason, of course.

Hearing you were a woman, Tony introduced himself to you. However, you were only interested in the works of his suit. You reserved yourself for one person and one person alone. Seeing as he was inevitably shot down, he entertained your questions.

As of now, you were in S.H.I.E.L.D’s headquarters. You were done with your shift at the hospital so you wanted to catch up with your work here. If not operations, you were here as a scientist used as a soundboard for ideas and clarification. Beyond the human body, you exerted the effort to use your eidetic memory for the good of science.

Right before you looked through a microscope, a sharp pain spread throughout your stomach knocking the air out of your lungs. You clutched at it and you cursed your soulmate for a while before worrying about them. What sort of trouble is this person up to again?

“Doctor Y/N! Since you're here, you're needed at the operating room.” One of the agents interrupted you and you nodded while still clutching at your stomach.

Before you entered the room, you were quickly dressed into your scrubs and your hands washed thoroughly. “What’s the situation?” You asked as you stepped into the room.

“A gun wound to the stomach.”

---

Natasha was in agony - she’s been shot at before but that doesn't mean it will hurt less. Honestly, at this point, she feels guilty that she's been hurting her soulmate all this time. While the pain is somehow dulled for her soulmate, it will still hurt.

She’s been lied down on an operating table with her clothes cut open. Anesthesia was administered to her system and her eyes started to droop. Before her eyes truly closed, she felt a pinch on her arm.

And when Natasha came to be, her body was heavy and she felt groggy. She was dressed in some clean clothes and she could feel the bandage on her stomach.

Sitting up with a groan, a woman in a white coat - possibly her doctor - interrupted her by gesturing that she stay laying down. Natasha stilled and took the chance to look at the woman taking care of her. How couldn't she notice the gorgeous woman sitting by her side?

“I finally found you, you stupid troublemaker.” The doctor whispered with a small smile on her face. “Do I know you?” Natasha croaked with her weak voice.

Rather than answering, the woman pinched her own arm. Natasha jumped at the brief pain on her arm then looked at the woman opposite her with disbelief on her own face.

“Nice to meet you, soulmate. I truly wished it were under better circumstances but you need to stop getting yourself hurt first.” The woman cheekily smiled before extending her hand.

“Dr. Y/N, at your service.” Y/N brightly spoke and Natasha could feel even more guilt. How ironic, with her always getting hurt she just had to have a doctor for a soulmate.

“Natasha Romanoff. Thank you for helping me.” Natasha shook her hand and it felt warm. It made the assassin hesitant to let go. “Of course. And with Black Widow as my soulmate, I’m sure it won't be the last.” Y/N spoke then slowly let Natasha’s hand free - as if she was hesitant too.

The assassin chuckled and Y/N found it to be enticing. “What can I do to make it up to you?” Natasha asked and smirked.

“A date would be nice. But for now, I have somewhere to be. I’ll let you rest, Natasha.” Y/N replied and Natasha felt that her name sounded good from her mouth. “How will I find you again?” Natasha asked and it elicited a giggle from the doctor.

“I work here, silly. For three months now actually.” Y/N shrugged before adding,

“And I’m sure it won't be long before I’m needed here again, troublemaker.” The doctor winked before making her leave.

Natasha could hardly remember that she was shot just hours ago with how giddy she was feeling. The assassin always thought she was never worthy of a soulmate with all the blood on her hands. But when out of nowhere she felt a sudden pain on her foot that one time, she feared the worst for her soulmate but always looked forward to meeting you someday.

And here you were, already scolding her for getting hurt all the time.

[queenofsquids]

Trigger warning: mental health, money

I have a confession. I was awake at 2:30am night before last due to kids & migraine, when I saw a sales thread for a Unoa Zero go up for $600. Usually, Zeros are more than $1,000. I assumed I would never buy one cause of that price. So when I saw that post I didn't even think, I bought her.

Basically I've really overspent in the past two months (this whole year, really). I've spent a lot of time mulling it over the past two days. Because I've been so fiscally responsible almost my entire life, why have I been going nuts now? I think the slow slide started with my first pregnancy (non sleeping baby for YEARS), and was horribly ramped up due to crushing health issues with second pregnancy and then the pandemic/quarantine.

I have understood a long time that catastrophic events can trigger hoarding tendencies, I just never applied that to myself. I kinda gloss over my own problems and don't consider them that bad (like most people I reckon).

Anyway if you follow me and wonder why I buy so much stuff. I don't think my rate of acquisition is healthy and hopefully it's not permanent. I'm working on it.

Things I've tried:

Zoloft (feels great but doesn't slow spending)

Disconnecting credit card from Paypal (I just justified using other methods and eventually reconnecting)

Staying off internet (wow this is not a realistic goal for me at all, I can't do it, I feel so lonely)

No-spend months with public accountability (this had success during, but then often afterward my spending went UP as if to compensate)

My particular spending triggers are almost exclusively hobby items. Usually tied to perceived scarcity, rarity, time limits, or a really good deal/bargain price. Also items in bad shape that I know I would enjoy as a project (this is usually tied into bargain price).

I'm open to suggestions to manage it, and not just on this post but in future too. Kindness works best for me. Um also accountability for the rest of this month and Feb, I'd like to try no-spend. Thanks for being here.

[rayshippouuchiha]

Hey Ray, it's the exam anxiety anon again. How angry do you think my parents'd be if I told them that even though I had a year and a half I couldn't bring myself to study seriously until 2-3months before the exam? 🙃 Like, I was caught in this spiral where I set study goals for myself, got distracted&failed at them, felt awful so I lied about it, promised myself to do better bc I SHOULD be able to do this on my own, rinse and repeat ad-infinitum until the actual exam date loomed near🙃

If I fail the exam I'll force myself to come clean, I think I might need actual psychiatric help if I ever wanna try anything like this again. I feel like such a burden though, not working, not specializing, just consuming my parents' money... I don't wanna give up on a residency in the US because the prep already cost us so much, but if I fail this test I don't think I have the strength to put myself through that again... maybe I should just stick to doing it in my country... what do you think?

~~~

Oh darling I'm sorry you're having these kinds of problems.

Now, honestly, it's hard for me to give you any kind of true judgment/opinion because I obviously don't know your parents or your relationship with them. And while I always encourage people to reach out to their support systems, I would only ever encourage you to be open and honest with your parents if it's safe for you to do so.

But I also think that there's a good chance your parents will understand if you reach out to them for support and help. The fact that you're attempting to bargain with yourself over seeking psychiatric help is, in my opinion, a red flag that pass or fail you should look into the topic regardless. And there's no shame in that. Reach out to your student resources center, see what's available. Google hotlines to call or text in your area, reach out to friends and family. There's never any shame in reaching for help and you shouldn't look at it as a backhanded way of punishing yourself on the chance you fail at a task.

That being said I do think that, pass or fail, this one exam doesn't determine your worth. Full stop. It's a test, yeah maybe even an important one, but your worth doesn't hinge on it no matter what anyone says or how you might feel because of anxiety. And while I think you're far stronger than you give yourself credit for I do believe that your mental health is more important.

I honestly think that if you take some time to breathe and calm down you're going to do a lot better on the test than you think you will. I'd be willing to be that you've absorbed a lot more information from the course itself than you think you have. So study, study hard even, but don't tank your mental health in the process because that's not going to help.

Also, no matter how the test ends up turning out, don't make your next decisions regarding your education and path off the cuff. Take time, think it out, don't let yourself make a split second decision based on high emotion that you might regret later.

And, as always, I'm here for you if you need me!

[johannas-motivational-insults]

Morgan’s arc in 4x03 was really hard for me to watch. Not because she was being a jerk (though she obviously was), but because I’ve been there and it’s painful.

Morgan is grieving. She’s mourning the loss of a lifelong dream, something she has devoted years of her life to, and she’s currently in the bargaining phase. She’s putting up a fight to find any way to hold onto some scraps of that dream, to stay involved in the surgical department and have that level of impact on her patient’s care. Beyond that, her medical condition has alienated her from her peer group and support system in this time of personal crisis. She desperately needs to feel relevant and still feel like part of the group, even though (and precisely because) she’s not.

This is a story about someone coping with what is essentially an acquired disability. It may not affect her activities of daily living (yet) but it affected her ability to work, and this was particularly damaging to her because her work was her only source of validation. As I’ve said before, Morgan’s deepest need is to matter. And she gets that validation through her work, by helping people and saving lives. She may have been cast as a villain of sorts, but she’s got a hero complex. Now, working in internal medicine, she just doesn’t have that level of impact anymore. And now she can’t help feeling like a failure, like maybe her mom was right and this wasn’t a worthwhile thing to do with her life, like maybe she really is the underachiever after all despite all her hard work.

I’m going to be honest, I damn near cried in that final scene with Claire, when Morgan told her patient to thank his surgeon because she’d done all the important stuff. She wasn’t just humbled, her pain was palpable. I’ve been through a similar situation where I was extremely invested in something (both in terms of work put in and thirst for validation) and I too was forced to change roles after fighting it as long as I could, also because of a medical condition/acquired disability. And being in that different role was just so painful, because I couldn’t have the impact I wanted and no matter how much I wanted to I just didn’t feel like part of the group anymore.

I ended up leaving that situation behind because it was too painful and it was better for my mental health to invest my energies elsewhere, but Morgan is going to stay. She has to, she’s invested too much time and money into medicine and it’s really all she has. And that means we’re going to have another interesting grief storyline playing out over the course of a season. Morgan’s having an identity crisis before our eyes, folks.

With all this in mind, let’s give Morgan a bit of a break. If you need precedent for that, Claire got to be super messy while mourning her mother last year. She was, quite frankly, a jerk (which I actually loved, it was refreshing given how much emotional labor she was always being forced to do because she’s so nice all the time). In fact, that mean streak continued into her mourning Neil during the covid episodes, when she accused Morgan of being happy about elective surgeries being cancelled because now no one’s a surgeon anymore, not just her. Which, for the reasons I outlined above, was a really horrible thing to say. Morgan shrugged it off because she can take it as well as she gives it (and lbr, she has more respect for people who aren’t afraid of her, Carly proved that last season), but you could still see it stung.

That’s not to say Claire is the worse person or anything, obviously she’s a kinder and generally more considerate person than Morgan. Morgan’s a bitch, that’s her calling card and she’s proud of it. We’ve seen her show compassion and concern and go out of her way to help people lots of times (that’s why she’s in this mess, if you recall), but she doesn’t do it in a ‘nice’ way. My point is, Claire was allowed the space to be messy when she was grieving, and we should allow Morgan that space too. Not being ‘nice’ shouldn’t disqualify a person from getting to grieve in the way they need to, especially a woman (because tbh men are allowed to be hurt and angry however they want). Like obviously hold her responsible if she hurts people along the way, but let her be angry and hopeless and desperate in whatever way it comes out. She needs it.

This hurts to watch and will continue to hurt. But it is so cathartic and I’m soaking up every second of it. I haven’t seen such a compelling story about grief over an acquired disability since Raven’s arc in the early seasons of The 100.

Morgan, I know a lot of people aren’t on your side, but I am. I see you, I get you. Keep your chin up, girl, it will get better.

[silver-kitsuneneko]

How to Deal with Cyberbullying as an Adult

I’m writing this because sadly, I hadn’t seen any posts or guides to help people with being bullied online, which is a shame because it’s a very important thing to know, especially when it’s no longer in the realm of teenagers but when adults are being cyberbullied. This guide is for those who are eighteen and over. Cyberbullying has become a growing problem over the years and with the whole cancel culture movement it’s gotten even worst. People are going after creators who did something someone didn’t like twenty years ago, someone was accused of something without proper evidence and of course that can’t fly and more often than not, someone disagreeing with someone over a show/media/fandom etc. and will of course make that person’s life a living hell just because. As someone was on the receiving end of cyberbullying for three years, I think I can give some insight on what to do and not do as a final chapter of this horrible incident and I can finally move on.

 Rule One: DO NOT RETALIATE. I know this is HARD like very hard but it’ll only make things worse. Seriously, don’t take this as an “I’m not going to back down!” or “How dare they?! I’m going to give them a piece of my mind!” moment, just Ignore, delete and BLOCK. Seriously, if not, you’re going to get a lot more than you bargained for:

 So yeah, just IGNORE.

 Rule Two: DeviantART is NEVER going to help you. Many of you use DA as your place to post art, especially teenagers. If you think DA is going to magically help you by banning them because let’s face it, DA is good for banning and suspending accounts but they really don’t care about the personal safety of their users. They don’t care if someone steals art, they don’t care if someone is harassing you, they don’t care if you’re being threatened. Their only “solution” is to block the person, knowing that people make multiple accounts just to harass a user. But as long as they get their money from their core users, they don’t care. However, this doesn’t mean that all sites are like this: Tumblr, Wattpad, FF.net, and a few others have excellent and better ways to deal with Cyberbullies and harassment, though with the user being anon things can be tricky.

 Rule three: Document everything! And I do mean everything! every single message geared towards you, anything that you know for a fact is suppose to be about you, anything that harassment and does not make you feel safe, DOCUMENT IT. Make sure you get the time and date stamp and make sure you get the website they posted it on. If you don’t know how to screen shot via desktop, there’s a Snipping tool that will do the dirty work for you better! Here are some examples on what I did. Please note that the following is very disturbing.

  As you can see, these edgelord postings are in fact a death threat and needed to be reported. I’m glad I got it and sent it through proper channels. Which brings me to my next point.

 Rule Four: Local law enforcement cannot help you, especially if your cyberbully is in another country. You can’t contact their police equivalent either because it’s a cybercrime not a “domestic” crime. They can’t do anything to help you.

 Rule Five: Contact the FBI cyber unit. Yes, there’s a FBI unit for cybercrimes. Harassment, death threats, cyberstalking, and cyberbullying are crimes. Get as much information as you can on your harasser. This could mean usernames, locations, and if you can, names. My cyberstalker posted her real name and location because she was an artist so things like her name, location, and email were posted everywhere and it was just easy to get what I needed to file a report. Don’t be ashamed and don’t be scared to do so. The form is simple and you can use that evidence you collected to show that you are indeed being harassed. The website can be found here: https://www.ic3.gov/default.aspx

 Rule Six: Don’t post your plight to your fans, on your page, or anything like that. As much as you want to vent to your Readers and Fans online, don’t. This will give your cyberbully exactly what they want, a reaction out of you. Also, many of your fans may take it upon themselves to defend you, which is honorable and an awesome thing but at the same time it’ll give them a “Reason” to send their own personal hate army after your or in my cyberbully’s case, even after I apologized, still sent her batshit crazy friends after me for days at a time. If that’s the case then shut down your page temporarily. I know it seems like you’re running but damage control at this point is the best thing you can do especially since they’re making new accounts faster than you can block and delete. If you do what to vent to your readers, use a secret language or something like that to keep everything hushed and secret so only you and your fans would know or set things to private.

 Rule Seven: Don’t post anything too personal about yourself. To many, their page or accounts are their safe places. No I don’t mean this is a SJW, special snowflake, PC culture thing but your personal spot where you can share your thoughts and feelings and post your creations. Sometimes you forget that someone with ill intentions may be using your page to get cannon fodder for later or something of that nature. My bully decided to use my relationship with my parents as a way to bash me and things of that nature and found a post several years before the fact where I told a Reader/ Fan that I didn’t like my name and went by my initials (K.C.) that I realized that she was stalking my page. She even made a journal stating that I was going after her husband, the reason why she didn’t have a job, and that if she killed herself it was my fault because I “drove her to it”. The link to that is here.

https://www.deviantart.com/justwaitforit/journal/The-Cyberbully-Incident-by-Artist-Holly-Rorke-817668170

As you can see, most of it is a very unhinged rambling of someone who really need some help. This is why you should NEVER engage a cyberbully. You don’t know if they’re right in the head or not. 

 Rule Eight: take all the time you need to take care of your mental health. When you’re being harassed at the level I was, it’s weighs on your self-worth, self esteem, mental health, and even your physical health. I felt alone in this fight, I felt like no one was listening to me, and I felt like she was never going to stop. Thanks to @pizzapupperroni, @ mischief-soul-lover, and @incubeebirb, I slowly got through it. In fact, PizzaPupper got me on One Piece as an attempt to do something new and it really helped me. I can’t thank her enough for that. Do things that’ll take your mind off of things, play your favorite video game series, take a break from your page for a little while, engage in a new hobby, block and made sure your bully cannot contact you again if you can. Meditate, take a hot bath/ shower, and just take a few days to yourself before going back to business as usual. Remember your mental health and self worth is more important than your page. Your followers will understand.

Rule Nine: If all else fails, start over. I know this is VERY hard for those who’ve been on platforms for five plus years and built you following or things like that but if the harassment continues, you may have to switch platforms and start over. This is usually a last resort. Usually by the cyber crime report happens, everything is okay again. But sometimes that may not be the case. Think of this as a last resort if this person is really bothering to the point that you can’t take it.

Whew, I was finally able to get all of this off my chest. Hopefully my experience with this cyberbully incident will help many of you approach it better with more and better resources than I did. No one deserves this type of torture and that’s exactly what it is, torture. It’s something that will weigh on your body mind until you feel like there’s nothing left for you to do and it overall makes you feel just unsafe and shitty. Please be safe out there, use you best judgment and learn to not engage. 

[yadds]

Tony Reappears, Pt 5 - Tony gains a new confidant in the form of one Peter Parker, Pepper tries to understand.

Part 1 - what would happen if Tony appeared out of nowhere to be found by Peter, who’s still haunted by Beck’s reality bending? Part 2 - Tony is in bad shape and Peter helps, Strange snarks, and Pepper gives him the kick in the pants he needs. Part 3 - Tony has come back with more than he bargained for. Part 4: Tony is Iron Man. Plus, Tony gets to go home.

____________________________________________________________________

It was a Wednesday night and Tony was trying desperately to find a distraction. 

He’d hit a block in his control design and was spiraling, down, down into the depths of his bitterness and guilt. He couldn’t focus on anything, head jerking up periodically as he drifted in and out of consciousness while sitting at his work table. He also couldn’t stand the thought of actually trying to sleep in this mindset. 

He flung his schematic holos away, growling in frustration as he dropped his head into his hands. His eyes cut to the side to check the time. 12:15 AM. Too late to call and pester reasonable people. He sighed. 

But wait. Maybe not too late for a college student. 

“Fri, call-“ he cut himself off. No. What if Peter has a big exam in the morning and had just gotten to sleep? Or what if he was out actually enjoying his life? It’s not like he was just sitting around his dorm waiting for Tony to call. 

“Who would you like me to call, boss?” Friday asked. 

“Never mind, sweetheart. I just saw the time,” he fibbed, ”I don’t think anyone is up for a call from me right now.”

“Peter is currently taking a break from patrolling,” Friday dutifully reported. Talk about an intuitive AI. 

Tony arched a brow. “Is he now? And how do you know that?”

“Karen told me,” she replied. Right, they were basically connected at the metaphorical hip now. 

He mulled this information over for a minute before he bit the bullet. “Okay, old girl. Call him up,” he called, leaning back in his chair and steepling his hands over his chest. 

He was weirdly nervous as he listened to the phone ring. 

His heart was racing by the time Peter answered with a breathless, “Hello?”

Tony’s mouth opened but nothing came out, suddenly speechless. What was he even supposed to say? I was feeling mopey so I called someone half my age to cheer me up? What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter questioned as the silence drug on. “Shit, did I hang up on you? Damn it, Karen, I thought we’d fixed that! Ughhhhh why am I this way? Well we’d better call him back before-”

Tony chuckled, nerves evaporating as his chest filled with amused affection. “No need, kid, I’m here.”

“Oh, great! Except for the fact that you definitely just heard me rambling like an idiot. Am I talking fast? I feel like I’m talking really fast.”

“Definitely fast. You good? I thought you were patrolling - you’re not doing that high are you? Don’t make me lecture you about stupid choices,” he warned teasingly. 

“No, of course not! I’ve just been slinging around a lot, which gets my blood pumping and gets me kinda hyped up, you know?” 

Tony nodded. “Ah, to be young and enjoy life just for the hell of it,” he said sagely. 

“Don’t you get that feeling too? I mean, come on, you can fly!” Peter asked, huffing as Tony heard him sit down heavily. 

“I guess I used to,” Tony said thoughtfully. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done it just for kicks, though.”

“Well you should!” Peter insisted. 

Tony was quiet for a moment as he thought about it, remembering the thrill of flight the first time in his Mark II. But the idea of getting back in the suit made his chest sieze. He drew in a sharp breath before gathering himself enough to respond quietly, “I don’t know if I can.”

Peter hummed. “Yeah, I get that,” he said softly. “It took me a while, too. I always had flashbacks of...well, you know. And panic attacks. But it got better,” he offered. 

Tony felt that knot in his chest loosen just slightly. It didn’t make it all better, but it did help, knowing someone else understood what he was going through and could validate it. He appreciated how Peter was so casual about it - he obviously took it seriously but it was also something totally normal and okay. But he’d known for years that Peter is much stronger than he is, and not just physically. 

“Maybe,” Tony replied hesitantly, not quite as optimistic about his own mental health improvement capability. He’d been in some pretty tough spots before and come back, but this was the first time he’d died.  But so had Peter and half the rest of the world, so apparently that wasn’t even particularly noteworthy.

“So, anything exciting tonight, Spiderling?” Tony asked.

Peter graciously allowed the subject change, rambling happily about stopping a mugger, walking a girl to her car who was leaving work late, playing catch with a couple kids in the park.  It was amazingly relaxing, listening to Peter recounting his night, voice animated in a way that indicated wild gesticulation on the other end of the line.

It made his throat a little thick, remembering how fucking wholesome this kid was.  This was the first time he’d gotten to hear this again since...before Titan, almost ten years ago.  He was suddenly grateful to himself for making it possible to reverse the snap, in a way he hadn’t been able to truly appreciate until this very moment.  

He realized Peter had paused, the quiet stretching before he questioned softly, “Mr. Stark?  You okay?”

Tony cleared his throat.  “Yeah, ‘course.  Keep telling me about the- the, uh, search for the best slice of pizza in Manhattan; I’m dying to know, here.”

After another hesitation, Peter continued, detailing all the places he’d visited in the past few weeks. 

Tony leaned back, closed his eyes, and smiled. 

.

A week later found Tony standing in front of one of his suits that had made it back to the lab, kept all this time, he assumed, for sentimental reasons. 

He reached out but recoiled before he could make contact, breath catching. 

Shaking his head to clear it, he turned quickly and went back to his work table. 

.

They had a schedule now. Tony spent the weekends at the cabin with the girls and occasionally picked up Morgan in the evenings after school for a few hours. 

He’d finished his control protocols (now named FEMA because he was his own natural disaster), which used subdermal chips to monitor his vitals and would deploy nanites from the wristbands he now wore to restrain him in the instance of nighttime adrenaline spikes - an unfortunately common occurrence, as he was plagued by nightmares. The restraints didn’t particularly help with the nightmare situation, but they were a necessity. 

He’d start out in bed with Pepper, but when she fell asleep, he felt the panic settle gradually over him until his chest felt concave with the pressure of it, breath coming shorter and shorter. So he’d roll out of bed and go down to the crude lab he had out there, usually tinkering with cars and blasting music loud enough that he’d hopefully drown out that inner voice whispering soft, hateful self-incriminations.

He’d quickly discovered that alcohol no longer had any effect on him. He also discovered, in a fit of desperation, that neither did drugs. So his faithful old friends had deserted him when he needed them the most. 

So he was trying so-called “healthy coping mechanisms” now, like hard work and spending time with loved ones. Which was great, but Tony’s issues were gargantuan and he was an addict at heart; he craved any release like a starving man craved food (which he was actually quite familiar with, so he knew it was apt). He knew this, knew he came on way too strong, too needy, and was just...too much. In his attempts to not smother his people, he found himself becoming withdrawn and distant, tormented by the certainty that he’d drive them away with his clingy dependence. 

Tony was terrified Pepper would remember just how inadequate he’d always been, how much his love for her, his money, his intelligence never overcame his inability to give her what she needed.  He knew she still talked to Tom, and he’d never ask her to completely cut him out of her life, but it didn’t help his insecurities.  He would see Pepper’s jaw clench or her eyes dart away and he’d find a way to quickly shut up and make himself scarce.

Happy would check his watch and Tony would suddenly recall an important task running in the lab he needed to check on. 

Morgan, his sweet angel, would gladly hang off him until the end of time, but he knew she needed to get back to having a normal life. Well, as normal as life gets when you have a family of billionaires and superheroes. 

And he also didn’t want her to see behind the curtain, to see what a weak man her father really was. 

Rhodey came by when he could, but he was kept busy with his duties in DC and a new wife. Tony had done enough to damage Rhodey’s career and relationships in the past. He didn’t need to add his newest level of instability onto his friend like that. 

And Peter. He never seemed annoyed by Tony’s random check-ins but also didn’t have a problem telling him when he was busy, which actually did more to allay Tony’s worries about being a nuisance than anything. Tony never found any indications from Peter that he should pull back. But he did anyway. Because, well, Peter was a goddamn blessing to the world. And if Tony could, he’d bottle him up and keep him all for himself. 

So, anyway, “healthy” was...probably still not an accurate term for his coping mechanisms, shoddy as they were. But at least he wasn’t poisoning his body into an early grave. Again. Ha-fucking-ha. 

.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter questioned one night. 

“Yeah, kid?” Tony replied easily, distracted by the circuit board he was soldering while they talked. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked. 

Tony’s brows snapped down and he automatically looked up at the screen in front of him despite the fact that this was an audio call, which was frustrating since he’d really like to see Peter’s face to see if he could tell what had brought on this madness. 

“What?” He wracked his brain, trying to figure out what the hell he’d done now that made Peter feel like he’d done something wrong. He hissed as the soldering iron pressed heavily into his finger. He finally set the tool down and looked down to see the circuit board he’d been working on was ruined now. Not surprising. 

“What?” he said again. “Of course not. I mean not as far as I know. What the hell are you talking about?”

Peter’s heavy sigh echoed through the lab. “I dunno, just thought maybe I’d pissed you off or done something to annoy you,” he said, too casually.  Tony could perfectly imagine the shrug and eye aversion that would go with that statement.

“What?” Tony intoned again.  He knew he sounded like a broken record but seriously, what?  “Not at all, kid.  I mean, not more than normal.  Which was a joke, sorry, I can’t help myself.  In all seriousness though, I’m not upset at you.  Why would you even think that?”

“Okay, sorry, it’s nothing.  Anyway-” Peter said quickly, trying to change the subject.

“No, no, no,” Tony interrupted.  “Nuh uh.  Circle back around here.  I’m not letting this one go.  I need to know what I’m doing that’s making you feel like that so that I can fix it.”

“No!  You’re not doing anything wrong, Mr. Stark,” Peter insisted.

“Well, obviously I am.  Just tell me what’s going on, kid,” Tony coaxed.

After a brief hesitation, Peter took a deep breath before responding.  “You’ve just been kind of...distant, I guess.  I felt like we’d been getting along so well when I was visiting and we were talking on the phone more and it was like we were...friends, you know?  And it just seemed like lately you haven’t been as engaged and you’ve been calling less.  But I know you’re super busy and you’ve got a lot going on and more important people to hang out with, so I’m sorry, I’m just being overly sensitive.”

Tony’s elbows fell down onto the table in front of him, hands cradling his head.  Of fucking course.  His idea to help spare the kid had just ended up hurting him.  And how was he supposed to explain this without sounding as fucked up as he actually was?

“Mr. Stark?” Peter pressed softly.

“Yeah kid, still here.  Just...give me just a minute, okay?” he replied wearily.

Tony listened to Peter’s soft breaths, the rustling of the wind, the NYC traffic far in the background over the line.  

“Pete, I - fuck, I don’t know really know what to say,” he said, unable to come up with one of his usual lines.  “Just know that it is definitely not your fault.  I’m not tired of you or upset at you or any other bullshit you’re coming up with in that head of yours.  And I don’t know what ‘more important’ people you think I’m hanging out with, but that’s definitely not the case either.  I mean, hell, I think only maybe ten people are even aware I’m alive.  But regardless, even if I had every single person on the planet at my disposal, you would still be one of the most important people to me.  So don’t sell yourself so short.”

He heard Peter’s breath hitch slightly before he cleared his throat.  “Oh.  Well, okay.  And, uh, same.  Just so you know.”

Tony’s lips twitched in a tired smile.  Despite the awkwardness of it, he knew Peter was ridiculous sincere about it.  “And hey, you can always call me, too - stop making me do all the work.”

“Okay,” Peter said.  “I just don’t want to bother you.  Between trying to get your family back together and figure out your new body, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, so I don’t want to be a nuisance.”

“Never,” Tony replied immediately.  “Nah, kid, you’re not a nuisance.  I like hearing from you.  And honestly, you’re probably my best source for figuring out the physical craziness and I’m not utilizing you near enough for that.”

Peter hummed.  “Okay, well just promise to let me know if you’re busy or if I’m getting to be too much.”

“Same,” Tony responded, echoing Peter’s earlier statement.

As Peter huffed a laugh, Tony felt confident enough that had been handled as much as it needed to be and launched into an explanation of his current project.  

Thank God, because the moment of touchy-feely honesty was surely going to start making his skin crawl. 

.

It became a thing: Tony calling when he was stressed and couldn’t sleep, Peter calling frustrated about classes, and everything in between.  Peter realized that Tony was basically under house arrest so he’d send him pictures of random things he saw on the street - a cute dog, a weird sign, his lunch for the day, a crazy outfit someone was wearing.

More and more often, Pepper would come downstairs looking for Tony when he left their bed on the weekends to find him lounging in the lab, laughing as he talked to Peter in the middle of the night.

At first, he’d see her come in and nod and she’d smile back, relieved to see him happy and connecting with someone else.

Tonight, she was not smiling.  Tony noticed her jaw clenched and eyes shuttered when he glanced at her and he frowned.

“Hey, Pete, I’m gonna have to cut this short, okay?  We’ll talk later,” Tony cut in.

“Oh,” Peter said dumbly.  “Uh, yeah, sure, no problem.  Good night Mr. Stark!”

“Night, kid,” Tony replied before promptly hanging up.

“What’s wrong, Pep?” Tony asked, turning and giving her his full attention.  

She stood in front of him, arms crossed and fingers tapping agitatedly on her opposite elbow as she battled with whether to say what she really wanted.  Tony was quiet as he waited for her to decide.

“I’m trying to be understanding, Tony,” Pepper finally said.  “I am.  But are you ever going to be able to sleep in the same bed as me or is this going to be how it is for the rest of our lives?”

“Honestly?  I have no idea.  As long as I feel like you or Morgan are in danger then the answer is no.”

“Isn’t that what the FEMA protocol is for?” she asked.

“Yes, but it’s one thing to have it work in a test situation and another thing completely to trust it with your life.  And I don’t.  Do you think I don’t want to be able to sleep next to you?” Tony said, frustrated.

“Some days I feel like I really don’t know.  You seem perfectly content to come down here and talk to Peter every night,” she said.

“Is that a problem?” Tony asked, brows furrowed.  “Me talking to Peter?”

“No.  Yes.  I don’t know,” Pepper said, sighing, hand coming up to cover her face.  “I just feel like you’re able to talk to him in a way we haven’t been able to manage and I’m...jealous,” she admitted.  “And yes, I know how incredibly childish and stupid this sounds.”

“Hey,” Tony said softly, standing up and coming to grab her by the elbows and pull her close.  “No, it’s not stupid at all.  I get it.  Mine and Peter’s relationship is easier than ours, and it’s not fair.  But it’s because we have a simpler relationship - we’re not trying to juggle a romantic relationship, a parenting relationship, and a potential working relationship in addition to our friendship.”

“But it’s not just that,” Pepper said, looking up at him.  “You talk to him in a way you don’t talk to me.  And I never see you laugh like that with me - it’s like you’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Tony dropped his gaze, pulling back slightly.  “I guess I also don’t feel like I have as much to lose with Peter.”

“Because he doesn’t mean as much to you or because you think he’s a sure thing and I’m not?” Pepper asked bluntly.

He pulled back another step, sighing as he ran his hand through his hair.  “I wouldn’t say Peter necessarily means less to me. Of course he doesn’t mean more than you, he’s just important to me in a different way - like how you and Morgan and Happy are all important to me in different ways.”

“And?”

Tony didn’t want to answer the second part of that question.  But Pepper was staring expectently at him, no out in sight.  “What do you want me to say, Pepper?” he asked wearily.

“I want you to tell me why you always act like you’ve got one foot out the door.”

Tony grit his teeth before replying.  “Because I know I’m gonna fuck this up and I still don’t really know where I stand with you.  So instead of bumbling my way through it, it just seems...I don’t know, safer, I guess, to just be ready for it all to explode in my face so I’m prepared for the inevitable end.”

“You’re being a coward,” Pepper said harshly, eyes filmy and lower lip trembling.  

Tony recoiled, eyes hurt and wary, but didn’t deny it. “You’re right,” he admitted softly. “But can you honestly tell me that you’re not waiting for the same thing, Pep?”

She immediately started shaking her head. “No, of course I’m not! I…” but she trailed off. 

“I see it,” Tony cut in before she could gather herself.  “I see how you’re always waiting for me to disappoint, bracing yourself for how to deal with it and make this work. I’ve always admired your problem-solving abilities, honey, but this shouldn’t have to be something that you grit your teeth and push through just to get it done. I don’t want to be another chore.”

Pepper shut her eyes tight, brow scrunched in pain briefly before she opened them again. She sniffled quietly, a tear tracking slowly down her left cheek as the rest of her face remained stoic.

As the silence drew out, she sighed, shoulders slumping. “Maybe that’s true. And I’m sorry for making you feel that way.”

Tony shrugged in response, scuffing his foot across the floor. 

“But I still want to work on this, on us,” she said. 

“Me too, honey,” Tony murmured, stepping back into her space. 

Pepper smiled tremulously, reaching out and twining her fingers behind his neck. “So come to bed,” she coaxed. 

Tony stiffened, shaking his head. But as he opened his mouth, she put her finger to his lips, smile turning coy. “Beds aren’t just for sleeping, Tony.”

Eyes widening, Tony blinked helplessly for several seconds before gathering her in his arms and bolting for the main house, Pepper screeching in laughter on the way.

.

It was wonderful. 

The closeness, the intimacy, was everything he’d craved, miles of warm, smooth skin against his own. He trembled violently, overwhelmed, skin soaking up the contact it had been deprived of for so, so long.

It was beautiful. 

His hands glided over every inch of her, worshiping her body until she’d pulled him back up impatiently. He sank into her, warmth that permeated through him, down to his bones. 

It was earth-shattering. 

As she came apart beneath him and he reached his peak, he felt his blood surge, hands flying to the headboard to brace himself. Groaning deeply, his hips jolted forward and the headboard exploded in his grip. 

It was terrible. 

Chest heaving, he looked down and froze, seeing her wide eyes staring up at him, splintered shards of wood in her hair. He scrambled backwards, all that glorious warmth turned to ice in his veins. Despite her rushed assurances, he stumbled out of the room. 

It was never happening again.

____________________________________________________________________

So I ended up having to split up this update.  Because I seem to have a major problem with not having an ending that’s depressing.  

I’ve got a pretty good chunk of the next part written (look forward to Peter visiting Tony but everything still being frustratingly sweet and platonic, and a brief return mention of badass/scary!Peter) so hopefully the delay between updates will be shorter buuuuut no guarantees.  Kids, y’all, they are a major time and energy suck - but they’re worth it because I love them :)

taglist: @marvelobsessedrat, @dim-ships-johnlock, @starkerstories @t1of3 @consciencecoward @peachbabytarte

[lolita-tips]

Where have I been?

I originally wrote this up as a script intended for a youtube video explaining where I’ve been and why I haven’t been keeping up with things very well but I haven’t been able to bring myself to get in front of a camera. I thought I would at least make it into a post to sort of give you all an idea of what’s going on. I’ll put it all under a read-more though since it turned out pretty long.

Hi, I’m Averie. I’m 26 years old and I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about my life lately. I’ve been running Lolita Tips for eight years now but in the last year or so I’ve been a bit removed from it, definitely more than I’d like to be and I sort of feel guilty about it. I keep trying to tell myself that I shouldn’t feel bad, but it’s important to me and there are a lot of people I feel like I’m letting down by not posting more regularly. I guess I just want to talk a bit about where I’ve been and what I’ve been going through. 

Last year I officially moved out of my parents’ place and into my boyfriend’s house. Really it was his parents’ house and for the first few months we actually lived here with them which was a bit of a nightmare for a while, but as of April we’ve officially taken on the mortgage and they moved to Florida. When I moved in I started my first ever full-time job and it has really tested me. It’s nowhere near what I’d like to be doing with my life but as they say, it puts food on the table. I’m a claims adjuster for an auto insurance company which means my job consists of sitting in a cubical making phone calls all day and paying people to fix their cars after accidents. This job has really been putting me under a lot of stress. First of all, I’ve always had pretty bad anxiety when it comes to making phone calls, and after over a year at this job, that still hasn’t changed. Having to spend most of my day doing something that makes me so anxious leaves me really drained by the end of it. Add to it the facts that a lot of the people I have to talk to are in a bad mood, often times I’m calling to give them bad news (“You’re at fault for this accident”, “Your car is a total loss,” etc.), and I’m handling over 100 claims at any given time. So most of the time all I want to do when I get home is lay on the couch and do nothing. I wish I was in a position right now to quit this job but I’ve searched up and down for something else and there’s just nothing close to me that would make any sort of financial sense.

When I do have days where I feel like I can actually get something done, a lot of my time is spent working on the house. As I said before, we bought this house from my boyfriend’s parents and it was pretty dated. I’m someone who likes old things, I collect antiques and often dress in vintage styles, but dingy carpet from the 80s and floral wallpaper that’s probably even older aren’t exactly our taste. So we’ve been taking on a lot of home improvement projects and a lot of the time we sort of feel like we’ve bitten off more than we can chew, particularly when it comes to our budget and stamina. As artsy as I may be, I’ve learned that I hate painting walls so even though we started in December, our living room is only about a third of the way painted. I’m also learning that one of the biggest struggles of being a homeowner is just keeping up with the mess, especially with a dog and two cats, all of whom shed like crazy. And it would be easier if we could do all of this together, but my boyfriend and I have such different work schedules that it’s rare for us to have a same day off to work together. It also just seems like this house has one problem after another. A few months ago we had a leak and had to replace the roof. Now our basement is flooding and we have to tear out the walls of what is supposed to become our craft room. It’s hard to make the house beautiful when you keep having to spend all your resources making it functional.

Everything that has been going on in my life has left me feeling very overwhelmed. It may not seem like a lot from the outside, but when your head is constantly full of “Paint this, sweep this, scrub this, shit I forgot to send that check, how many boxes do I still have to unpack? Is this ours or his parents? Did I schedule an appraiser to look at that car? Holy shit the garden is overgrown where did all these weeds come from I swear we just pulled them out a week ago!” It’s daunting. And it has really had a negative impact on my mental health. I thought my life was going to be grand when I moved out of my parents’ house! I was going to be close to a big city, living with the person I love, and finally feeling like a real adult. But this really is more than I bargained for. It feels like all I really did was trade in the stress and anxiety of a long-distance relationship for the stress of a terrible job and a house that still doesn’t feel like my own. People keep telling me things like “That’s life!” and “Welcome to adulthood!” but I know adulthood isn’t all suffering! I know plenty of adults who have jobs they love and free time to  do stuff that makes them happy, but I feel like I’m stuck in an endless cycle of five-day work weeks, evenings where I’m too depressed and tired to leave the couch, and weekends where I try to cram in as many chores as possible. And thinking about it makes me more depressed! I studied theatre in college, I wanted to be a playwright, I STILL want to be a playwright. I also want to own an antique store, make and sell clothes, travel the country working renaissance faires, any number of things would make me happy; but it feels like any time I have some time to work toward one of my dreams there’s always something more important. 

A few months ago I went to a convention in Pittsburgh. It was the first time I’ve worn Lolita in a long time and it was exciting because there were going to be some big Lolita guests. I told myself I was going to face my fears. I was going to introduce myself to members of my new local Lolita community for the first time since moving here, but I came to the con by myself and the longer it went on, the more alone I felt. I thought it would be great going to all the panels I wanted to see and not basing my schedule on anyone else, but seeing everyone with their friends having a good time brought all these ugly thoughts into my head. I thought, “I’ll never be able to have close Lolita friends like that”, “I’ll never be able to make a living doing the things I love like these designers and Youtubers”, “What kind of Lolita blogger am I if I can’t even go up to other lolitas and introduce myself?” At one point after a panel I went to the bathroom and I heard a group of lolitas whos voices and names I recognized come in. All at once my brain was flooded with “Not good enough”s. I’m not pretty enough, my coord isn’t cute enough, I can’t possibly go out there and interact with these queens. So I locked myself in the stall and waited until everyone left while I cried quietly.

A few hours later there was another lolita panel that was a lot of fun and I had a good laugh and actually sort of felt like I was part of something for a moment. But after that was the J-fashion social. I spent all day trying to convince myself to be brave and not let my anxiety get the better of me, but that was a battle that I quickly lost. I went out onto one of the balconies of the convention center, pacing back and forth while I tried to gather my courage, but the “not good enough”s just came flooding back and I cried harder than I had cried in a long time. The meetup came and went in a panel room behind me as I stared into the night sky of the city that didn’t know I existed. No friends to comfort me, boyfriend at another convention working a booth, and family hours away. I felt completely and utterly alone. But that night I told myself that I was going to make a change. Something, anything, to make my life better.

I know that I can’t cure my depression, or my anxiety. I know that there’s something wrong with my brain and that I’m always going to have bad days and good days, but I also know that I at least owe it to myself to try and turn things around. I may be depressed, but I’d rather be depressed and do things that I love than allow things to continue on the way they have been. After all, I’m the most important person in my life. Nobody will ever be more fundamental to my own happiness than myself.  

I can’t exactly say that I have a plan, but I can say that I’ve been trying. I’ve actually spent a lot of time lately rediscovering things that once brought me joy that I fell out of for one reason or another. For example, I’ve recently started listening to My Chemical Romance again. I remember listening to them as a moody teen who just wanted to seem dark and edgy but going back and listening to the same songs as an adult hits me in a different way. They’re so full of emotion and passion and words that my mind likes to cling to like “I am not afraid to keep on living.” I also recently started watching the Vlog Brothers again. Their channel and pretty much everything they were part of were huge influences on me in high school and early in college so I was really happy to see that they’re still doing stuff. They always help me to remember that even though the world may be a big dumpster fire right now, there are still good people doing good things and there are still a lot of things worth living for. I’ve been working a lot on bettering my life in a lot of ways; I’ve been trying to embrace the Konmari method while working on our house and I’ve been watching a lot of youtube channels about being better with money and spending a lot of time watching ASMR to just try and relax. 

I still have a long way to go, and I know I’m still going to struggle, but I’m thankful to those of you who have stuck with me and will continue to be with me on this journey. Whenever I get on tumblr and see that I still get messages in my inbox it helps me to remember that I am not entirely alone. I know this was sort of a lot, I’m not someone who normally pours my heart out like this, to be honest talking about my mental health makes me worry that I’ll come off as whiney and it makes me pretty nervous, but I felt that I owed it to all of you to explain what’s been going on and I felt that I owed it to myself to get it all out there. Thanks to all of you who have stuck with me through it all. I hope to start making changes in my life get back to making this blog something worth sticking around for.

[saundraswriting]

Need Some TLC Chapter 4: New Door

SUMMARY: Steve is a man with a door. Bucky is a man who is frustrated. You are oblivious. Time together opens you eyes to what having these two super-soldiers in your life means.

WARNINGS: 

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The documentary was just about over by the time Steve sent a warning text to Bucky. Less than five minutes later, Steve came through the not-door.

"Hey, jerk. I found a nice heavy door. I also got bigger and longer screws to better fasten her door to the frame. It has a matching deadbolt too. I got three keys; one for you and me and one to hide somewhere. I made two copies of ours; one for her and one to hide. Can you help me with this door?" Steve propped up the door against the wall and emptied his bags on the counter.

"Thanks, Steve. You had the same idea I did. I want us and her to always be able to access each other's places. I do feel bad for breaking down her door. Y/N was very agreeable to everything. Except having F.R.I.D.A.Y. installed. She said she wasn't that important. As such she came up with the idea to come to our place if she gets this bad again. F.R.I.D.A.Y. can put up the safety wall until we or someone gets here." Bucky gently extracted himself from your grip and walked towards Steve.

"Buck, I told you, I'll do anything for the person who makes you smile again. To tell you the truth, I did a quick search on her. She's all clean, and all alone. The only child of only children, who live states away." Steve said. He had all the packages open and was getting everything set up. "No, I won't give you details. If you want to know more, talk to her yourself. We work just as weird hours, start small. Get to know her, even a friend will do you some good. Now, come on. I want to get this done before she wakes back up."

Bucky grabbed a screwdriver ad began removing the hinges and things. Steve put the hinges on the door. Half an hour later you had a perfectly functional and well fastened brand-new door shut and locked in place and deadbolt secured.

"Captain Rogers? Sargent Barnes? You're still here?" You furrowed you brows and pursed your lips. You must of woken up when the door shut.

" Of course. We told you that we'd replace your door. we just finished a few minutes ago. We discussed swapping keys. We printed them for you. We added your to each of our keychains and then we will hide them somewhere for emergencies. We won't abandon you. We promised." Bucky said.

"Sorry, Y/N. You made me cookies, that means you are one of mine. I don't let mine suffer or let them down or go back on my word.  Sorry, sweetheart, you're stuck with us." Steve explained while testing your door and locks again.

"Oh, dear. To be considered a friend of the White Wolf and Captain America? What's a gal to do? Hey, do you think if I give Mr. Odinson and Ms. Romanoff cookies they'd consider me a friend? I could always do with more bragging rights." You teased. You threw a wink and laughed at the men's stunned and betrayed faces. "Kidding! I'm kidding! Sort of. I would love to met them, but I only share my baked goods with the neighbors. So you sweet tooth is safe."

"whew! Good. I was worried. They're our nighttime snack. and bargaining chip. What little bit we bring to the compound, get us many things." Steve said. His tone was light but his eyes were serious.

"And out of others." Bucky added.

"Well, I am glad you like them. And give you sway over others, because it is nice to know that The Star-Spangled Man with a Plan will resort to bribery if needed. If you ever have enough self-control, my cookies freeze well too." you said. "Anyhow, are you guys done fixing my door? Cause I'd really like a door." You got off the couch and rubbed your eyes hard enough to see neurons flashing.

"Yes, it is finished and done. the locks work fine with all three keys so we are good to go. Honestly though? You could do with some more sleep." Steve said.

"I know. but I can't. I have to sleep tonight or it will be terrible. I will be terrible. I have to clean up and do laundry. It would have been nice to get a few more hours this morning, but..." You trailed off with a shrug. "Being awake is fine too. I have to look at what I will need for food-stuffs. I don't know when I will be off again.'

"Is that really a good idea? Shouldn't sleep be more important? especially over cleaning." Bucky asked. He and Steve were in the kitchen cleaning up from lunch and the impromptu home repair. you came up next to them and pulled out scent spray refills and cleaning wipes and spray.

" I need to stay awake to get sleep tonight. I need to recharge for the next few days. I work 16 hour days the next four days. If I don't clean now, it won't get done. My apartment won't be clean, my food will spoil and laundry will pile up. Which ends up adding to my stress levels. I need to have my scrubs clean and sheets washed. I need things to be clean now so I can neglect it later." You said. You were very busy, yes; but not too busy to let filth turn to squalor.

"You have a point, several actually.  But Y/N, four 16 hour days? Isn't that biting off more than you can chew?" Steve asked. He had packed up the stuff for the door and began trying the dishes that Bucky was washing.

"Probably. But no one wants to pick up General Care shifts. Our patients turn over is high and very drastically. Anyone over 18 can technically be on my floor as long as they don't need a specific unit like cardio, neuro or burn or children or psych. But even then, if they overflow and need a bed and I have one, can't turn them away. I am also desperate for money. I like to have extra for anything. I like having all my bills paid and in all honesty? My mental health is not great so I sometimes work a lot to work through my depressive episodes." You said. you pretended to focus on a stain on you coffee table to avoid the worried looks you knew the two super-soldiers were giving you.

"Y/N,, we gave you a key to our personal apartment today. Only three people have one and you are looking at two of them. You help us everyday. We will be there for you too." Buck said from the sink. You still couldn't look at him but you could hear the promise in his voice.

" I know. But before you I was alone and after you I will be alone. I always will and do appreciate the two of you. Never ever forget that, no matter what. I just know how things work in real life. I know that I haven't seen my family in 5 years because I didn't want to go into business with my dad or be a lawyer like my mom. I know that  no matter how hard you try, people lose contact, you drift apart due to life." You shifted away from the very clean coffee table and moved around to change the automatic scent sprays. "How about I clean my place up and when I am done we look at getting pizza and watching Disney or a documentary?" You're attempt at a subject change was not subtle but the men got the hint. Bucky narrowed his eyes and his jaw ticked. You knew this conversation was not over. You smiled softly to ease his tension.

"Very well, Y/N. Mark my words, you are one of mine and one of Steve's. There is no 'after us. Bucky said, firm and steady. "Now, can we help you clean?" Bucky lightened his tone to alleviate the awkwardness.

"No, Sargent Barnes, and Captain Rogers, that is incredibly outside your duties. I cannot allow you to help clean my apartment. You made me lunch and fixed my door, that you broke down saving me. I can handle my own tiding up." You waved your hands in a shoo-ing motion and shook you head.

"Y/N. Let me speak plainly. You are missing something here." Steve said, he could see Bucky getting frustrated with you obliviousness. "You are family. You take care of us when we have bad nights and are home. You bake for us when you can to cheer us up. You help acclimate us to the here and  now, you don't mind when we get confused even if we should know it. You let us tell you stories of our childhoods. You are there for us through the rough spots. You make time for us no matter what. We want to be there for you too. We want to be you family as much as you are ours." Steve said. He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, jaw clenched and eyes laser focused on you.

"We care for you immensely. We worry about you and want to help. We know that working odd hours affects everything else. You may think that you are alone but you are not. We have your back even if you don't think we do. There is no such thing as outside our duties, no request too big or too small." Steve continued. He seemed sad that this needed explained.

You paused in the midst of your cleaning to really look at the two men out of time in you living room.

Steve stood with his hands on his hips. He looked at you with concern etched in the lines of his face, lines that you don't remember being there before. Bucky was twisting his fingers avoiding you gaze. His jaw was clenched, like he was swallowing his words.

These two amazing men had only each other. The team, yeah but they had no one who let them relax. No matter where they went, they were always Captain America and  The Winter Soldier. They are worry-ers. they worried about you and had before you said hello the first time and would if you had denied them your friendship. Captain Rogers and Sargent Barnes had lost their friends and family and even though the team and work helped fill that void the non-avenger aspects needed nurturing just as well.

If you were being honest with yourself, you need to nurture. A partial reason for being a nurse, you wanted to comfort people, help them heal. You also needed people in your life to help you remember that work and sleep and food weren't everything.

Captain? Sargent? I am honored that you consider me family. I consider you family as well. I am glad the two of you have my back cause I forget to watch it." You confess to the super-soldiers.  You firmly met their gazes, squared you shoulders and lifted you chin. You exuded confidence and sincerity.

"Thank you, for being family and trusting us." Steve grinned, eyes and teeth twinkling with boyish charm.

"As long as you don't break another door of mine, we'll be fine. Now, I do need to clean up, so either settle or scat." you flapped you hands at them toward the door.

"We'll scat. We will be seeing you later." Steve came over to you and pulled you into a hug. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and squeezed tight. You returned the hug with everything in you. he pulled away, lingering.

"You give great hugs., Or it has been too long since I had one." You teased.

"Ha-ha, I happen to know that I give amazing hugs. Also I may have added all the Avengers to you phone while you slept and gave them your number. Also I labeled me, Sam Wilson and Bucky as you In Case of Emergency contacts." Steve smiled sheepishly and quickly darted through the door to avoid retaliation.

"Steven, have you no boundaries?" You yelled at his back with a laugh.

"I didn't know he did that. Sorry." Bucky apologized from the kitchen.

"I don't mind. Just strange. I'll have to update my med kit here and my car and at work." You shrug with eyes bright.

"No one has really cared this much but that maybe stories for another time. Good night, Sargent Barnes. Tell Captain Rogers the same." You walked up and pulled him close for a quick hug. A fast squeeze around his shoulder helped release the last of the tension.

"Good night, Y/N. See you later." Bucky then headed out the way Steve did throwing one last smile at you before pulling the door shut and locking it with his key. 

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************************’******************************************************************* Okay, reformatting is done for this series. I have one more that I am Needing to post and then I can move on to posting more chapters. Gosh, how do people do this day in and day out? This is so much work, which means you should show your content creators more love. :)

[transcriptroopers]

Why wouldn’t the military give u money to go to college if you join? That’s basically the selling point of recruiters at my school right now. It’s a very rural, middle class town. Even if u had good grades and were able to get into good colleges, no way would anyone be able to pay for it... unless you join the military, who promises to take up all expenses for college tuition.

Unfortunately, your story is the same as so many others, including my own. Based on your recruiter’s main selling point being free college, I’m willing to bet your town isn’t actually middle class, but working poor. The recruiters in your town know they’re facing hundreds of kids with no money and no options, which gives them a distinct bargaining tool. The shrinkage of the middle class is blurry subject now that anywhere between 50% and to 70% of Americans are living paycheck-to-paycheck, in a system where a modest emergency (

So for reference there are two types of G.I. Bills: the Montgomery G.I. Bill and the Post 9/11 G.I. Bill. The differences between them are technical and tedious, but the bottom line is that the 9/11 one is newer (installed 2009 I believe) and gives more stipends for books and housing and such. So while you only get $20,000 in total for tuition, you could be receiving up to $2,000 more per month for housing and cost of living. Assuming you use up the G.I. bill in three years, that’s $72,000. Until recently, the Montgomery G.I. Bill expired after 10 years of leaving service and the Post 9/11 expired after 15 years. This made the G.I. Bill a “use it or lose it” benefit that could be rendered useless if you took too long. It’s easy to say you’ll use it right away as soon as you get out, but a 2015 poll by the Washington Post reported that half of veterans polled didn’t use their educational benefits. 50% of veterans appeared to just ... not take a free $92,000. Why?

The military really does break you in ways that are hard to describe. They aren’t offering you “free” college; they’re asking for a transaction. They want your body in exchange for an IOU. That sounds dramatic until you’ve actually been in the military and been broken down into an object the government owns. They make service sound fun and adventurous but don’t tell you we have significantly higher rates of murder, suicide, sexual assault, substance abuse, domestic abuse, and an absolute legion of mental and physical ailments, many of which don’t fully hit us until after we’ve left service, i.e. when the trauma-inducing environment is left, meaning... when you plan on going to college.

The articles that describe these symptoms act as if it’s because of the turmoils of war-torn heroes returning from the front lines; to quote this article, “These men and women stepped up and sacrificed to protect our country and population,” but that’s horse shit. The fact is that veterans develop life-long illness just from being in the military. Even those who never see combat, never see deployment and don’t complete their full service. 

This isn’t about “the war” damaging our veterans, it’s about the military itself being traumatic to its personnel. Kids in their twenties with chronic knee pain and slip discs. Eating, sleeping, and addiction disorders. Exposure to toxic waste, burn pits, and radiation. Rocketing rates of opioid abuse. I can’t stress enough that even if you pick the most boring, safest job in the military and barely even touch a weapon, you’re going to endure completely needless mistreatment and substantial risk to your health. 

Meaning, even if you only put in four years, you might not be physically or mentally able to start cashing in on your G.I. Bill. You can’t take classes part-time, not if you want all of your benefits. At least one of your classes must be in a physical classroom, unless you want your benefits cut. All of your classes must be pre-approved by the VA as being relevant to the major you declare upon activating your G.I. Bill, otherwise you will be responsible for the tuition. Should the VA be late to pay the tuition for your school, you are responsible for the amount and late fees. If you fail a class, you must pay the tuition cost yourself, and if you owe the school money, you can’t receive your benefits. 

To be quite honest, G.I. Bill fuckery is what started our slow decline to near  homelessness: my husband got a D in a class, which is a fail, so he had to pay for the class himself. We were in a tight financial spot, so we couldn’t pay back what he owed. Because we couldn’t pay for the class he failed, he couldn’t take more classes, so he couldn’t get more benefits, so we couldn’t afford to pay back what he owed, etc. I developed agoraphobia after leaving service and took the hit to my benefits to take only online classes. Unfortunately, there was some paperwork mistake at the VA with my G.I. Bill, and I was asked to come in to address it. Being agoraphobic and with my husband working full time, I delayed far too long until I got a letter saying that I was financially responsible for the online classes. When I couldn’t pay for them, I couldn’t take classes, thus I couldn’t get benefits, etc.

The “Forever GI Bill” signed in 2017 eliminated the time restrictions, which did seem to address some issues. They acknowledge that for whatever reason, veterans may not go to college right after leaving service, which saves a lot of benefits from simply expiring. But unsurprisingly, the VA has been struggling to implement the changes. Innumerable veterans report their payments being less than usual or worse: being late, or not arriving at all. There are government agencies that exist just to write emergency checks to veterans whose benefits are not working. The VA’s inefficiency has been a joke for decades and the last few years we’ve seen wave after wave of VA corruption and disorganization being brought to light for the first time. So even if you do successfully enroll in college after service, there’s no guarantee that your promised payments will be there.---

To succinctly answer your question, it’s hard to predict when you might suddenly lose access to the education benefits you sacrificed so much to get. But most of all, I think, you should not consider college to be something you should feel compelled to get at all costs. The finality of saying something like “a poor kid who couldn’t go to college otherwise” as if a life ends because of it... even highly qualified people with four year degrees struggle to find jobs. The idea that college is salvation from poverty is a lie that corporations, including the military, use to exploit children fresh out of school. 

And even if it were the salvation they say it is, it’s still not worth joining any branch of the U.S. Military. Not only because of how poorly you will be treated, but because your participation in an organization committing war crimes and human rights violations is not justifiable. I realize I’m a hypocrite for having this point of view as I too was a penniless kid who joined for money and college, but no individual’s upward mobility is worth serving what is rightfully a terrorist organization. 

- Kingsley

[blindedbythedarkness]

Josh,

We need to talk. I’ve been avoiding the topic of what led up to your death ever since it happened, but having worked through those events in counselling I think I might be ready. This is going to hurt, but I need to say it. We need to talk about this. So let me just take a deep breath.

I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t blame myself for your death, since I am not to blame for your suicidal thoughts. However, I will forever regret the opportunities I missed to help you when I saw you for the last time. I will live with the guilt of that for the rest of my life and I want to apologize for now and always. I feel like the best way for me to do this is to start from the beginning; for me to tell you what I remember.

The last day I saw you was a Sunday, the day before you took your own life. It was also the last day of the pride event in our city. It was the middle of exam season and I was feeling exhausted and close to burning out. But, since pride before had always felt great and so freeing, I wasn’t going to wait another whole year to go. I also knew it would be your first pride, having only come out to yourself and others once you got to uni. So, as I sat outside the pub we were supposed to meet at and you sent me a message saying you didn’t feel like coming, my heart sank. I convinced you to change your mind, but that should have been my first clue. I thought you’d feel better once you got there and you’d been so excited the last time we saw you. I remember you showed us the rainbow balls you’d got for your new scaffold piercing. I don’t regret making you join us, I just regret how disappointing it was.

I remember sitting in the shopping centre food court as you arrived and jokingly slammed your tray down at the table. 

“What’s the point in calling it a bargain bucket if they don’t give you a bucket. The bucket it the best bit!”

We laughed a little, but I never thought it was such a memorable joke that it would stick in my mind even now.

When we got to the pride celebration, we soon discovered it was shit. I absolutely admit that. The parade was long gone; half the stalls were closed; the on-stage act was dull and the place was half empty. The only large group was composed of the so-called Baby Gays(TM), which, though harmless can be a little intimidating with their loud shrieks, laughter and energy. The atmosphere was a million miles away from every other pride celebration I’ve known. I promise you that, Josh. If I’d known it would be such a flop I would’ve suggested we do something else. I’m so sorry that was the only pride you ever got to experience. I’m sorry if it made you think that’s all there was or that there was nothing to be proud of. 

I was so disappointed that I actively made the decision not to take my usual Group Selfie. I don’t think this is an event I want to remember, I thought to myself. Hindsight is a wonderful thing I guess; we could have had one last photo with you. One more preserved memory.

You soon told me you were “going for a sit down for a bit”, which was understandable. I could tell you weren’t feeling great. I asked if you wanted us to join you, but you didn’t. I should have followed you anyway. I shouldn’t have let you be alone, Josh. I dread to think what thoughts were going through your head. Not long after, I wanted to sit down too but when we couldn’t see you we sat on a wall elsewhere. My own depression was having a bad day and I was having a flare of my physical illnesses too, so I was in a lot of pain. I don’t mean to try and sound like I’m competing with the pain you felt, Josh. I’m just trying to explain why it all happened like it did.

“I think I’m gonna go home,” you messaged me, “I’m not really feeling it.”

I couldn’t blame you one bit. I wasn’t either. 

“If you’re sure.” I said.

I didn’t know where you were sat, but I saw you emerge from a grassy embankment. You walked across in front of us, maybe 3 metres from where we were sat on the wall. We shouted your name and waved but you didn’t spot us.

“Oh well.” I thought. I didn’t get up to hug you goodbye. I didn’t feel like moving and I simply expected we would have another chance. I’m so fucking sorry, Josh. I doubt one more embrace would have saved your life, but maybe you’d have died feeling a little more loved. My last memory of you is of you standing at the edge of where pride was being held, at the top of the road, looking back at the sea of people. You were looking for us. I knew it then that you were looking for us. I should have got the fuck up and ran after you. You didn’t walk away fast. It would have taken two fucking minutes for me to run to you. I didn’t. I never said goodbye. I cannot tell you how sorry I am, Josh. I will regret that decision for the rest of my life. 

That was the last time I ever saw you.

I wish I’d known.

A and I went home soon after that. It was only after we’d got home that you messaged me. You were still stuck in the city centre thanks to the buses, or at least that’s what you told me. I offered you a lift home. You said it was okay, that it was out of my way and would be an hour round trip. I conceded and instead told you to message me when you were home safe. Ironic, I suppose, when the biggest danger to you was yourself.

You messaged later messaged me that you were home safe. 

“Okie!” I replied. 

That was the last time we ever spoke.

That wasn’t the end of the warning signs though. Later that night B messaged me, asking if I was busy. She was hundreds of miles away attending a funeral for her grandma, but she was worried about you. She wanted someone to go over. I was feeling pretty dreadful that evening. My pain was bad, my depression was worse and I was conscious that I needed a good night’s sleep so I could get on with my mountain of revision the next morning. I knew I was in no state to be driving, especially not down the motorway for half an hour in the dark. I also barely had the money for an Uber.

I asked B why she was so worried and she told me you’d said that you wanted to die. That should have been my hundredth fucking clue. I’m so sorry. I know it’s no excuse, but the reason that statement didn’t shake me to my core like it should’ve is because it’s a statement I’ve heard from so many people on so many occasions. I’m sure you did too. Half this generation wants to die. I didn’t know this time it was imminent. I’m so sorry, Josh. I knew you were home alone and depressed. I’m so fucking sorry.

B then told me that A had already gone round, so it was all okay. 

“Okay,” I told her, “But if you think for a second he’s in any danger let me know. I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

“No, I think it’s okay.” She said.

That was the end of that.

I really would have been there in a heartbeat, Josh. I would have paid for an Uber 100 times over if I thought you were in danger. I loved you. I still do. You were an incredible friend and I would have sat up with you all night to make sure you were okay. My bank balance and my revision and my pain management were never more important to me than your mental health. Than your life. I just didn’t know that was the decision I was making. I’m sorry.

That, Josh, is the story of the most regrettable day of my life. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been back there. Sat in the memory. Trapped on that wall. Watching you look back and never seeing us. You probably only glanced back for a second, but in my mind it plays in slow motion. I know that I may never have been able to save your life, but to know there is a scenario in which I could have lived without some of these regrets hurts like hell. None of us can live like it’s the last day of our lives, nor the last day of our friend’s lives. But I’ve certainly learnt that I can do a few things different. Now, I promise I always say goodbye properly; I will always take people seriously when they say they want to die and I will always take photos, no matter how I am feeling. 

Nothing I ever do will make up for the mistakes I made that day, though. I know you would never hold them against me, but that isn’t the point. The point is I’m sorry, Josh. I’m sorry I failed you so many times the last time you saw me. I would give almost anything to do that day again. I wouldn’t let you down again. I’m so fucking sorry.

Forgive me, Josh, I only ever meant to love you.

C

[sridisha]

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[calleo-bricriu]

This hasn't been the first time this sort of thing has come up.

Now and again, I get messages asking if I will either curse/hex/jinx someone for someone else or bind someone to something or someone.

The answer to that is always going to be no, along with, "And don't trust anyone who agrees to do something like that for you or to a complete stranger, especially if they're charging you money for it."

Casting any sort of negative or damaging magic on other people is generally not considered acceptable behaviour. The people I use it on or who use it on me are people I know intimately well and there is fully informed consent there.

It's not something I would be willing to use on strangers; most of it requires line of sight anyway.

I'm also not entirely convinced that anyone who asks for that sort of thing truly knows what they're asking or asking for. The fact is that that type of magic can still be incredibly damaging and cause long term effects, even to the point of death being used as an escape from those effects.

While most things can be removed, the damage they leave behind is often permanent or, at the very least, long lasting; even if it's a short duration, the effects suffered while under the spell(s) can and readily do leave psychological scarring.

As for binding rituals and spells, many of them are permanent which is perfectly all right if that's what the people involve wanted and intended but permanent is permanent. If you decide later that you no longer want to be bound to that person, you're out of luck unless you'd choose to die rather than remain bound to them.

Even there, some binding runs deeper and you're stuck, dead or alive, whether you want to be or not.

Spells, curse or otherwise, that revolve around the central theme of mind control are generally spells one studies but does not use on other people for the same reasons. Even if there aren't physical effects once it's removed or wears off, the majority of people find being controlled on that level to be extraordinarily scarring to the point that causes them lifelong mental health issues.

This typically happens because the people using aren't fully aware of how to control it or use it safely and end up consenting to something they're not equipped to handle due to that lack of experience or knowledge.

The thing with loss of control is that what most people are after is an illusion of loss of control, not actual loss of control; actual loss of control, especially over one's thoughts or actions, is intensely distressing for the vast majority of people, and often leaves lasting psychological and emotional damage, even if it was done under what at least one party considered informed consent. In those cases, it's on the person doing the casting to figure out whether or not the person consenting is able to consent and, in the cases of spells like this, being able to consent entails a great deal more than just thinking it'd be fun to play with.

Even for people who are experienced, handing over complete mental and physical control to someone else is a frightening and intense ordeal; I've done it numerous times with one of my partners and there still always is a flash of fear that runs across your mind even with knowing what it entails. There has to be complete trust that the other person will release their control and that you'll be able to effectively convey that you've had enough in a way they'll understand isn't part of the scene, as it were.

They and you also both need to fully understand what's 'play fighting' in terms of trying to wrench control back and what is actually a panicked attempt to break control; they look and feel extremely similar. If they can't read you well enough to do that, having that control forcibly (and at that point it is by force, even if it’s unintentional force) maintained enters into more dangerous territory in terms of the target’s mental health.

Should someone you don't know be the cause of it, you may or may not even be able to express that; it would depend on what they allow and if they enjoy keeping you an unwilling puppet, you will absolutely tell people that you've given consent, that you're happy, that you enjoy it, that nothing is wrong, etc...you will say or do exactly what they want you to say or do and will have no control or say in the matter, and that is something that is far more distressing than just playing at it for a couple of hours in the bedroom, so to speak. It will permanently and irreparably damage your mind.

It's why you don't use those sorts of things, cast those sorts of things, or agree to cast those sorts of things on strangers, and you ought to be extremely wary of people who advertise being willing to bind, curse, hex, jinx, or otherwise use magic designed to inflict pain or distress on someone in general and especially for money.

You're likely to get more than you bargained for and may or may not have an easy way to get out of it, especially if whoever you convinced (or paid) to do it decides that they don't want to; that is a very high possibility, that sort of magic produces an almost addictive high in those who cast it regularly and, for some, ending it may also end the rush they're getting from it.

If they refuse, your avenues of recourse are slim to none unless you can find someone to confront or kill them (the latter being--not recommended, as murder is typically illegal and not considered self defence in that sort of case).

Magic in general isn't something to be played around with lightly by those with little to no experience or skill; having someone with experience or skill use it on you is just as dangerous and you'll find very few people would be willing to put themselves into that position because if you change your mind on permanent or you find the effects are much more unpleasant than you'd imagined, there may be little that can be done to reverse it, remove it, or make you forget it.

Even seemingly benign magic can be absolutely vicious if misused, either purposely or accidentally. If you don't know what it is, if you're not experienced in handling it, either walk away from it or spend a few years studying it yourself but don't approach strangers to do it for you.

You don't know their skill level, you don't know their mind, you don't know their personality, you don't know their intentions, you don't know anything about them; at best, they'd do nothing at all or would be ineffectual and you'd be out some money.

Even if it's someone  ineffectual, even benign magic can go off the rails if it's handled by someone who doesn't know what the hell they're doing with it.

At worst, you've met someone deceptive and horrible who will ruin your entire life and possibly the lives of everyone around you or everyone you come into contact with--and you're out some money, but that'll likely be the least of your worries at that point.

If you're looking to cause physical pain for--recreational purposes for yourself, there are much safer, non-magical means to produce similar effects that are less likely to leave long term physical or psychological damage (though, as with anything, they could if misused) as they tend to be much easier to use.

If you're looking to cause damage, physical or otherwise, to someone else because you're upset with them about something I'd suggest not doing that unless you can be certain whatever you're using or whatever entity you're calling on to lend you a hand will be on your side in the matter. Magic itself frequently has a mind of its own and if you don't know how to handle it you may get a lot more than you'd bargained for.

If it's an entity you're calling on and that entity decides the problem is you? Good luck, you're going to need it.

[wellesleyunderground]

Chatting union organizing with Hailey Huget ‘10, Georgetown Alliance of Graduate Employees (GAGE)

Hailey Huget ’10 is a PhD Candidate in Philosophy at Georgetown University who, for the past several years, has been working to organize a labor union of her peers. In November 2018, 84% of graduate employees at Georgetown voted in favor of unionizing (with 555 voting ‘yes’ and 108 ‘no’). Now their union, Georgetown Alliance of Graduate Employees (GAGE), is bargaining their first contract with Georgetown. 

Photo: the day we won our election. This is the group that delivered our letter declaring our 'intent to bargain' a first contract to the President of Georgetown.

Interview questions by Hoi-Fei Mok ‘10 (@alifeofgreen), WU Managing Editor

WU: Thanks for joining us, Hailey! Congratulations on winning the recognition for your union at Georgetown University. Let’s start at the beginning, why is it important for people to unionize?

HH: There are so many reasons it is important to unionize, but the most important boils down to principle: you deserve a voice in your working conditions. Bosses wield an enormous and disproportionate amount of power over their employees, so forming a union is one way to tip the balance of power back toward workers. Doing so can have all kinds of great benefits for employees, like higher pay, better benefits, access to neutral grievance and reporting procedures to address harassment and discrimination, among many others.  

WU: You mentioned that when the Georgetown Alliance of Graduate Employees (GAGE) first started a few years ago that you never imagined winning union election a in this political climate against unions. How were you able to build pressure for a win? What conditions at Georgetown were you looking to change?

HH: The close to 1,000 graduate student-employees that GAGE now represents have a huge range of conditions that they are looking to change, but some of the highest-priority issues (based on a recent survey of GAGE members) include higher pay; more comprehensive healthcare, including dental, mental health, and vision care; and better protections against harassment and discrimination. These priorities weren’t really a surprise to me, insofar as they align with issues that grads brought up in the many conversations we had with them about unionizing. For example, I would have guessed that pay improvements would be among the top issues to emerge from the survey that we did, as by some estimates, we don’t get paid a living wage for the cost of living in DC. I also wasn’t surprised about mental healthcare being a priority either, as graduate students are disproportionately likely to struggle with mental-health issues and the resources we have to address this at Georgetown are inadequate.  

We built pressure for a win by, primarily, building our base of support among graduate employees and by putting their needs first in our messaging. One tactic that was really effective was the ‘one-on-one conversation,’ which is just as it sounds—just sitting down with another grad to ask them questions and figure out what they’d like to change, if anything, about their experience at Georgetown. In doing this, it’s crucial not to assume that you already know what they care about or ‘fish’ for specific issues; you have to listen, letting them do most of the talking. Once you’ve listened to someone and figured out what their authentic issues and concerns are—maybe they struggle to pay their rent, maybe they were sexually harassed, maybe they were unable to take disability or medical leave without losing their health insurance, etc.—you as the organizer can help them connect the dots to show how forming a union would help them address their specific issues. This tactic helped us build a strong base of support going into our election, where 84% of grads who cast votes voted in favor of unionization.

WU: What role does the National Labor Relations Board play in union creation? Did they pose a challenge to your organizing and if so, what was your strategy for circumventing them?

HH: The NLRB is the federal agency that is supposed to enforce your rights under the National Labor Relations Act (NLRA); they typically oversee union elections, for example. They also issue interpretations of the NLRA where there are contested issues or where the law is underdetermined. This is important for understanding our campaign at Georgetown because in 2016, the NLRB issued a ruling that held that graduate & undergraduate employees at private universities are workers and thus have rights to unionize. (More specifically, the ruling held that you can be a student of a private university and an employee of a private university at the same time; that having a ‘student’ role doesn’t preclude you also having an ‘employee’ role.)

Unfortunately, the NLRB is staffed by political appointees, so the 2016 ruling that declared us ‘workers’ with rights to unionize happened because Obama’s appointees sat on the board. Now, Trump’s appointees sit on the board. Because they are anti-labor, there is a strong possibility that they would, if given the opportunity, reverse the 2016 ruling that gave grad workers the right to form unions at private universities.

This is why we were so keen on circumventing the NLRB in forming our union. We did that by pressuring Georgetown to agree to a private election agreement, where our election would occur outside of the auspices of the NLRB. The reason we advocated for a private election is that if we went the NLRB route, Georgetown could legally challenge the outcome of the election on the grounds that they don't think we are workers. This could result in not only the results of our election being overturned, but in Georgetown being the school that challenged the 2016 NRLB decision and took away union rights for grads all over the country. Our private election blocked that possibility and guaranteed that Georgetown would not only respect the outcome of the election but that the 2016 ruling would be protected.

WU: When GAGE first approached the Georgetown president with the request to unionize graduate students, there was pushback from the university. What was that experience like to negotiate with them?

HH: Georgetown’s first reaction in response to learning of our union campaign was pretty extreme: they declared that graduate employees didn’t count as employees at all, because the work we perform for Georgetown is primarily for our educational benefit. All graduate employees knew this was total BS, as did many other members of the Georgetown community who signed our petitions, attended our rallies, wrote letters of support, etc. After all, many grads at Georgetown—like me—teach undergraduate courses as the sole instructor of record. In other words, I perform the same job that tenured faculty do. Undergrads also pay the same amount in tuition for a class taught by a graduate instructor as they do for a class taught by a tenured faculty member. So it’s bizarre to claim that graduate employees’ work isn’t ‘work’ solely on the grounds that we are also students working toward graduate degrees.

One reason there was sustained pressure on the Georgetown administration from the broader community was because Georgetown prides itself on being a pro-labor university. Their pro-labor stance is rooted in Georgetown’s Jesuit affiliation and specific Catholic teachings emphasizing the dignity of labor. Grads, and many other members of our community, felt the administration’s response to our campaign was hypocritical. We were able to use that sentiment to put pressure on the university. Eventually enough important people and constituencies within the university came around to supporting us that the Georgetown administration caved and agreed to let us vote on whether or not we wanted to unionize—and, even better, to respect the outcome of that vote. This meant that, if we won the election, they agreed to recognize our union and sit down to bargain a contract for graduate employees. (And now that we have won, they are making good on that commitment and have been meeting with our Bargaining Team to negotiate a contract.)

WU: Was there a catalyst moment that caused a change in the university to allow the union vote after the initial refusal of support?

HH: I’d say rather than one moment that caused them to shift their opinion, it was more of a sustained pressure campaign that spanned several months. After Georgetown initially came out strongly against even our right to vote for or against union representation, we began a pressure campaign that sought to shame Georgetown for hypocritically abandoning its Jesuit values. Once it became clear to higher-ups at Georgetown that we had community support on our side, that we were prepared to drag their pro-labor ‘brand’ through the mud in the media, and that we were planning to picket outside of venues where they were hoping to raise money from alumni, they started gradually backing down and softening their position.

WU: Union membership in the US finally saw an increase in 2017, after a long decline (as illustrated in a comic by the Nib). Young people under 35 are particularly joining unions more than other age groups. What do you think has contributed to that? Do you see other academic institutions following suit after Georgetown?

HH: The question of why young people are joining unions more than other groups is a great question—and I’m sure it has a long historical and sociological answer that I’m not equipped to give. My vague sense, however, is that it is related to the reasons why ever-increasing numbers of young people are adopting more and more left-wing political views, including critiques of capitalism. The economic system that saddles many of us with enormous student loan debt and then requires us to compete with huge numbers of other candidates for low-paying, precarious, or unfulfilling jobs is clearly making us miserable and also making us feel like we have no control over how our lives go. There is also a sense, I think, in which young people feel alienated and isolated from one another, as economic pressure forces us more and more to see our peers as competitors for scarce jobs. One way to fight this lack of control is to reclaim power in your workplace and ensure that you have a voice in your working conditions. Unions are also a great way to break out of feeling alienated from your peers and help you start to conceptualize your well-being as fundamentally bound up with the welfare of others.  

I hope that other graduate employees follow us in organizing unions at their institutions, just as we followed in the footsteps of some pioneering campaigns that came before us (such as Yale, Columbia, NYU, University of Michigan, etc). I hope that, in particular, graduate employees at Catholic and Jesuit universities will be able to point to our campaign to pressure their own institutions to honor religious commitments to the dignity of labor.

WU: Do you have any advice for workers out there looking to unionize?

HH: There are differences in job sectors, employment contexts, etc. that make it the case that the strategies and tactics that we employed to win at Georgetown won’t necessarily succeed everywhere. But there is one general thing that I can say. It is a good default position to expect your bosses—no matter how friendly or beneficent they are or have been in the past---to react badly to your unionizing efforts. If they don’t resort to breaking the law, they will almost certainly do other things to disingenuously smear your efforts. They may say manipulative things like, ‘we are a family,’ ‘my door is always open for addressing concerns,’ or even, ‘you’re too privileged for a union.’ All of these are well-worn talking points that bosses use to try to make you lose confidence in your conviction that you need a union. It’s important to be able to recognize these as boilerplate anti-union propaganda and also to prepare prospective union members for hearing this kind of pushback.

[kingofthewilderwest]

Heyo, Haddock! I'm a linguistics student, fluent in French, and I'm studying German. I'm looking into freelance translating as a job, but so far it's pretty overwhelming - do you have any suggestions or tips on how to get a jump on that? How do you find work as a freelance linguist?

Hey there, linguist! That’s really cool, and I wish you the best as you start exploring freelance translation as possible work.

Admittedly I’ve never done translation as a job. I briefly considered it once, but never applied to any jobs there. I subsist 100% off linguistics commission work, but it’s all in theoretical linguistics, mainly along the semantics-pragmatics interface (just finished a fun project related to phonology-morphology shenanigans though). I implement theoretical linguistics knowledge by annotating large corpora of data (usually a database of many sentences) with pertinent linguistics information. At times I help modify an annotation system to be better, too. I then send my annotated data to another team, where they do computational work to develop language-related technology: for instance, using semantic information to improve a computer’s algorithm for returning relevant search results, or helping an AI interact better with humans in back-and-forth conversation. There’s limitations to how much I can explain because of nondisclosure contractual agreements. However, I can say I like to joke with my friends that, when the sentient robot revolution happens, you technically could pin part of the blame on me. I don’t do any computation stuff teaching computers to be smart, but I do feed theoretical information to a computational team.

So…. all that said! I’m happy to talk about things I’ve learned to make my freelance life sustainable. Hopefully that can help you find a groove for your own freelance journey! However, I’ve seen that translation jobs tend to run differently than what I do. You will certainly have different experiences than I do, because the translation world has is own quirks and system. But maybe some of this is applicable, and I wish you the absolute best with sorting out stuff that feels overwhelming now.

What makes my freelancing work work is that I’m re-employed by the same people and companies consistently. I’ve been doing annotation linguistics work on several projects for my alma mater university since 2012. In the public sector, there’s one company in particular I have consistent interactions with. For that one, hiring directors have my resume on file in the company’s database of possible contractors. Those hiring directors and project managers who’ve worked with me in the past tend to come back and email me with new opportunities later. What started as me tossing out a bunch of resumes and applications has turned around; now I’m at the point that I almost never look for a new contract, but get emails asking me if I’m available for a new gig. Free new job offer in the inbox! There have been times I’ve had to turn some down, too! Two to three contracts going on at the same time is more than enough volume to handle, and any more than that is ridiculous and unsustainable. I tend to prioritize the longest-running projects, while picking up a few smaller tasks from new project managers to build connections for future networking purposes.

Actually, one of the main companies I work contracts with, Appen, also hires translators for basically EVERY language internationally - so you could check them out if you’d like! You could be qualified to do some gigs with them! Once you submit an application for one job, your information is on store for the company to use for future gigs. However, an idle resume probably isn’t going to do much over time. I recommend re-submitting your application for new jobs - it shows volition, availability, and helps your name get pulled to their attention. I’ll admit that my first few applications didn’t catch any fish; it wasn’t until I name-dropped (one of the university professors I worked for) that I ended up receiving responses from the hiring managers and project leads.

If you do end up doing contract work in a system like Appen’s, I encourage you to be very careful. With freelance linguistics or translations, there’s many gigs that underpay workers or have paying practices that might not secure semi-stable income. You and I don’t live in the same country, so this isn’t going to be the same, but there’s healthcare and tax stuff I have to keep an eye on, too. Honestly, one of the reasons I decided not to pursue the possibility of remote work translating… was that many available translation jobs offered in my area… made me raise my eyebrows. Some sketchy stuff is out there. Sure. Some was GREAT work. Full-time salaried position working as a civilian in a military base? Those looked like solid gigs. Other common translation work is remote translating through a translation-oriented company, where you’d have consistent work and could be a freelancer, not in short-term projects like I get, but being an ongoing member translator. But some translation companies I saw lots of negative reviews for regarding payment practices and how they treated employees as replaceable; seems like you had to be a project manager overseeing translation quality to have a good gig (I did have one old linguistics classmate get that position). I also always was nervous about the idea that some translation companies seemed to pay you per word for what documents you translated (what if you only got short messages that month? maybe workflow is steady(?), but that sounded nerve-wracking to me on the outsider’s perspective - same type of scary as people in sales being paid based on how much they sell). The work I do is paid per hour - not salaried - but at least “per hour” can be more stable and flexible with what you do. 

So yeah. I don’t know if this makes your job searching more or less overwhelming, but be careful. Sometimes job-wise in life we have to start with “anything,” but “anything” won’t get good money or mental rest, and there’s times to say “no” to “anything”. There is fair work too, though.

Note that some of my comments on the translation field maaaay be inaccurate, given as it’s been a while since I’ve looked at that, and some of my observations will be based upon where I live versus you. I don’t want to feed unintentionally bad information, so everything I say on the field should be taken with a good grain of salt.

I haven’t had problems with my work, in part because I’ve figured out the payment bargain game. Every time a new gig asks what I’d like to be paid, I increase the price amount slightly. They usually agree. I feel like, as far as hourly contract work is concerned, I’m not being paid jack shit or being taken advantage of so much, and I am more than happy to spend my work week in my pajamas at home listening to metal music in the background, choosing my hours - even if it’s freaking 2 AM. Salaried positions pay more of course, and would be “fairer” considering my education level, but I’m still well over minimum wage. I’ll take it. Once I get mental health issues worked out (they’re capping my ability to work the number of hours a week I need), I’ll be making decent yearly income. There’s the constant terror of not getting new gigs, though, which comes with companies making me only a part-time contractor… but in your translation, that shouldn’t be any issue. There’s going to be freelance translation you can do within one translation company and chill there as long as you like. You won’t have to keep reapplying to new gigs if you settle in with some translation company.

One thing I suspect you might have to do, though, especially to get decent gigs, is get translation certification. I haven’t looked into it, though I remember seeing the word floated around. Maybe you know this already though. XD You would have looked more into the field than me!

I’m wishing you the very best with starting a freelance translation journey, and you rock for being a linguist. I wish I could have been more helpful! I’d be interested to hear any experiences you have or end up having, if you ever want to share! Languages for the win!