#and i should get reimbursed for at least part of it

[anakinfromaccounting]

oh yeah i’m getting top surgery at the end of maaaaaarch🎉🎉

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITAH for telling my wife no?

My wife (35f) and I (38m) have been married for 12 years, dated for 3 before that. We have 3 kids (10m, 7f, and 5f). We both work full time in separate fields, she does some chemistry thing that I don't understand and I am a manager at a computer repair store my friend runs, and also a short story writer when its slow. She is definitely the breadwinner bill payer between the two of us, but I bring in the fun money for our family and would be completely listless if I didn't at least work part time. We also fully own our home because of her job.

Also, my parents watch the kids for us during the week when we are working. It's been this way since our son was born, and they've been doing it less since they are all in school. But it's free childcare, they refuse to accept money unless it's reimbursing for buying food.

Ok, now that all of that backstory is set, here's where the problem begins.

A couple of months ago my wife started pepper into conversations about a possible promotion coming up that would get her out of the lab and into a more "manage the lab team" position, with less dangerous hours for more pay. Ever since the first time she mentioned it I've been hyping her up and telling her she's a shoo in for the promotion, especially since she's been working there since her masters internship and now she has a PhD.

Last night she told me she was getting word today if she got it! After she left for work this morning I called my boss up and told him I couldn't come in today, and then told my parents the kids were saying with me. We spent the day cleaning the house, drawing congratulations cards, and making a congratulations banner. We also made a couple cards that say sorry and we love you for if she didn't get it. I was working on making her favorite dinner (lobster rolls with lobster bisque, because she's a fancy lady) when she got home earlier than normal. Everyone was surprised, because noone is usually home at this time and yet here everyone was. She got tears in her eyes seeing everything we were still working on, got down and hugged our two youngest, and said she got the promotion! Cheering all around! And that's when she dropped the bomb, saying we need to get a realtor in a state three away from us so we can relocate within the next two months.

I was stunned, and just said no, we arent moving for this promotion. In all of her talks she never mentioned that the promotion wasn't for the same location she's been at. All of our family is here, her parents and mine, all of our friends are here, my job is here. She insisted that she's mentioned relocating before but I swear she never did. That set of a completely new argument about never listening to her and only hearing what I want to hear, and how this will make it so I can stay home with the kids and not even need a fun money job. During this I noticed she was typing on her phone, and when I asked why she was multitasking an argument she said she was texting my parents to get the kids so they don't have to see this.

When my parents got here they congratulated her on the promotion and asked how long until we move.

She told my parents the promotion included relocation.

I'm typing this on the couch in the basement, because I can't face her right now. My parents knowing means she probably did say we would need to move if she got it. I don't want to move, I like my job, and our house. I like being near my parents. I know this would practically set us for life but I don't want to. I know I'm being selfish, and I know I must not be listening when she talks, but I still don't think she should accept the promotion. I still think no.

What are these acronyms?

[2-dsimp]

(period is talking im sorry) dear god. the way i need an absolutely filthy marathon with danny for like a week or two.... is danny cool w degrading his darling? does he fuck with a mean mating press? started crying thinking of danny with a darling dressed as if they were straight outta nekopara...

If Danny the boss has a million fans, then I'm one of them.

If Danny the boss has one fan, then I'm THAT ONE.

If Danny the boss has no fans, that means I'm dead.

(i think im now 🫙 anon. if thats cool)

---☆ • ♧ • ♤ • ♧ • ☆ ---

Cw: NSFW MDNI FEM! Reader Dubcon, degradation, slight pet play, objectification, creampies, cosplay, overstimulation

---☆ • ♧ • ♤ • ♧ • ☆ ---

“What the fuck… Did you spill soda on my goddamned limited edition figurine? On purpose?”

You jumped, at the words he seethed under his breath. You were wearing a cat maid outfit determined to seduce your shut in otaku. Which wasn’t all that hard to be honest, but you craved getting dicked down in the most degrading way possible.

Danny was always the sweetest, worshipping your body as if it were the holy grail. Loving on every part of you, it was endearing but at times you craved for his cruelty. Whenever he got that cold icy smolder in his sunken eyes, it always made you shiver from how sexy he looked when pissed off.

“Since you want to desecrate my prized figurine…How bout I take my time in getting payment from your body. Maid-chan? Since I doubt you’ve got the money to reimburse me.”

He hissed in a gravelly tone, snatching you up by the wrist to send you scrambling to grip the edges of his desk for support. The Hitman Boss’s expression was heated as he hunched over you. tired red-blue eyes trained on your every facial expression.

While he one handedly flipped up your skirt, a slender finger snapping at the waist band of your panties. Before digging his fingers greedily in the meat of your ass.

And soon enough your funishment began.

“Oi maid bitch-chan. I didn’t give you permission to stop wiping my figurine down, now did I?”

The Otaku drawled out, having you bent over his PC monitor making you put that be maid cosplay to use. By shakily wiping up the soda spillage with a rag while he humped your ass.

“Keep going until it’s spotless. You can at least do that much besides just being a sweet fuckhole for my stress relief yeah?.”

He had a firm grip on your tail which ensured the rocky slapping of his balls against your folds. As he grinded his pelvis viciously against your mound. To make every pump of his cock scrap crudely within your squelching cunt.

“Cmon don’t get quiet on me now! Meow for me, you’re a neko maid right? So you better act the damn part, you dumb whore”

Your hand eye coordination became extremely faulty from the tremors of the impact he left on your body. You pathetically mewed trying your best to live up to expectation but it came out as a garbled mess. And the Otaku wasn’t too happy about it as he trailed a hand down to your chest to squeeze those breasts like a stress ball.

“Fuuuck. You’ve got me so pissed off you know that? Do you think I wanna call you a useless slut every time your cute ass. Can’t focus on anything other than cumming on my dick?”

“You know how I love to praise you baby so why do you gotta make me the bad guy?”

After Danny creampied your pussy till it was dripping globs upon the wooden flooring underneath the desk. It was only then he had forgiven you for your transgressions. After you finally managed to undo the damage you’d done with the cleaning supplies he had prepared at the ready.

The Otaku did feel a little guilty about wrecking you, so he made sure to give you his anime themed snacks and sat you on his lap to stream some episodes of Windbreaker. He didn’t clean you up of course, he was still peeved. So he figured that you could carry his seed inside you. As a reminder to you, should you ever did that shit again.

.

.

。

A/n: if you wanna be degraded the best way would be to piss Danny off since it’d be awkward from the start if he’s of clear conscious. You’re his goddess after all and he’d want nothing more than to worship you like the wonder you are.

[blushweddinggowns]

“I am sorry,” Eddie said for probably the millionth time, cringing at the glare Chrissy was sending his way. She wasn’t nuclear pissed but she was pissed, “Don’t look at me like that! You know I’d just be miserable if I went.”

Chrissy sighed, but she didn’t sound very surprised, “I just can’t believe after all that talk, you’re ditching me again.” 

Eddie shrugged, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. But his mind was already made up,  “I’ll owe you twice. But for now I’m staying right here.”

“Yeah, yeah. Cute boy trumps over me, I get it, ” Chrissy joked as she peered over at Steve, “Y’know, you could come with us. It’s only for a few months. And uh, you could bring a friend. Or two.”

It was actually kind of impressive, how fast Steve was able to move to cover Robin’s mouth. The yes was written all over her face, but Steve was ready to be the voice of reason, “Unfortunately, no. Nancy has the BAR exam in a few weeks and Robin has already been enlisted to help her through it.”

“Shame,” Chrissy sighed, laughing when Robin shook Steve’s hand away from her with a glare. But the lack of response made it clear she had no counterpoint. Chrissy went on, her eyes going back to Steve, “But that didn’t explain why you couldn’t go.”

Eddie watched, a little nervous about what he would say. Because while yes, it would be fun to drag Steve around the world on tour with his best friend, Eddie was kind of hoping to keep him to himself awhile longer. 

Steve blushed at the invitation, “That’s uh, quite the offer but-”

“But you should pay him if he goes,” Robin said bluntly, nodding Eddie’s way, “Especially if he quits his job for you. Honestly, I think you should reimburse him for the sick days he had to take because of your lying ass-”

Steve slapped her on the arm, his face on fire, “Robin!”

Chrissy just laughed as she watched them, “See? Stuff like this is exactly why I like you!”

Robin flushed at the compliment, but shrugged , “What? I’m just adding some realism to the whirlwind romance in case he fucks you over again.”

Huh. That was kind of a good point. Eddie hadn’t even thought of that. He didn’t know how it looked to literally add his boyfriend on to the payroll but…

“We could do a trust fund kind of thing?” Eddie offered instead, “That might be easier. No strings attached.”

“Irrevocable?” Robin asked, ignoring Steve trying and failing to shut her up again. 

“That would be the no strings attached part, yes.”

“Ooh, I like that-”

“He’s not going to pay me to be his boyfriend!” Steve interrupted with a huff, looking between them like they were the ones being unreasonable, “You can’t be serious about this.”

Eddie frowned, “Baby, it wouldn’t be paying you to be my boyfriend. You would get it if you dumped me or not. It would be more like…”

“A thank you for being his boyfriend!” Robin finished for him, “Honestly Steve, it’s the least he can do.”

Eddie nodded with her, “It really is.”

Steve stared at him, eyes wide, “Holy shit, you are literally insane. You are a crazy person.”

“Get used to that,” Chrissy sighed as she picked up her bag, “Now I gotta go. Hug me.”

Eddie did just that, sweeping her up into a big hug, one that took her clear off the ground. She laughed as he squeezed her, giving Eddie a quick kiss on the cheek goodbye. She did the same to Steve, though both of them politely looked away when she took things a little further with Robin. Even Eddie was a little surprised. He knew Chirssy could move fast but this seemed a little too… loving. Even for her. 

“I’ll call you when I get back. Just text me when Nancy gets off work,” She said quietly after she stepped back from her, a light flush to her cheeks, “I hope I can see you both again. It was fun.”

“I-yeah. Definitely,” Robin stuttered out, “Will do that. Yes.”

They all waved goodbye, watching her disappear into the airport before turning back for the car. 

“So,” Robin said as she got back into the backseat, “Trust fund. How do we make that happen?”

Steve groaned, covering his eyes with his hand, “Please stop trying to make me into an escort, Robin.”

“Oh my god, has love made you stupid?” Robin asked as she rolled her eyes, “He’s a millionaire who fucked you over. Why shouldn’t you get any money?”

“Babe, for the love of god shut the fuck up. He’s right here.”

“I don’t mind,” Eddie chimed in as he started the engine, “Besides, I think she’s right. It is the least I can do. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable-

“That isn’t the insane part!” Steve interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath, “Both of you… just stop talking.”

Eddie sighed but listened, glancing in the rearview for Robin’s reaction. She didn’t look pleased either, but when she caught his eye she perked up.

Text me about it, Robin mouthed at him through the mirror.

I will, Eddie mouthed back, snapping his mouth back closed when Steve glanced at him. 

Eddie didn’t think much of it after that. He dropped Robin and Steve off, texted her about the idea on and off throughout the day, checked in on Chrissy when she made it home, then picked Steve up from work. He made him dinner, listened as he talked about his shift, and then pulled him into his lap for some bad reality television. 

It was an incredibly normal night, one that Eddie still couldn’t believe he got to keep. But fuck, was he grateful. 

“Hey, baby?” Steve said around a half-hour in, his voice sleepy and adorable. 

Eddie couldn’t help but kiss his forehead, smiling down at him, “Yeah?”

“Can I see your phone?” Steve sweetly asked.

“Sure,” Eddie said, handing it right off to him. He had nothing to hide, not anymore. He was even back to the convenience of having one phone, his stupid extra donated to charity the day after he got Steve back. Besides, it made sense for Steve to have the code anyway, it was his birthday after all. He didn’t even think about it as Steve unlocked it.

He probably should have thought about it. 

“I fucking knew it,” Steve groaned before shoving the phone right back into his face, “What’s this?”

Eddie blinked at him, biting his lip as he was confronted with a pretty indepth trust plan with Robin. Eddie shrugged at him, guilty as charged when he answered, “You just told us to stop talking then. You never said we couldn’t bring it up later.”

from the next chapter of this fic

[nonotnolan]

An Excellent Choice

Dedicated to my valentine, the lovely @mergeman​

-----------------------------------------------

“You still sure you want to do this?” Brad texted.  Finn had already spent most of the bus ride on his phone, so he’d already finished reading the message by the time his text notification had finished chiming.  “It’s okay if you get cold feet.  I won’t be offended. ;) I promise!”

Finn couldn’t help but roll his eyes.  “sounds like ur the one w cold feet” he shot back.  “i already told u were doin this”  Granted, he would have been lying if he’d said that he had no fear... but Finn had worked through all of that hesitation when he purchased the bus ticket.  He’d spent far too much time and money on this offer only to back out now.

Brad was offering $150,000 to a like-minded young soul who was willing to merge with him.  The man was pushing 60, and was hoping to absorb enough youth to try life over again.  For his part, Finn was sick of scraping by from paycheck to paycheck, and if that meant giving up 20 years of his life, well... at least he was being reimbursed for it.  Five years of his current job’s wages was no joke, and the funds would go a long way towards buying a reliable car, and maybe even a down payment on a house.

And anyway, it wasn’t like he was going to disappear.  Rather than opting for the type of merge that put two men into one body, this would be one of the more experimental versions where two people combine all of their traits, and each person becomes the average value.  Finn stepped off the bus and started looking around the agreed-upon meeting place to see if the other man was here.

“Guess I’ll tell my bank not to stop that money transfer.  I really didn’t think you were going to show up, but here you are.”  He watched as an older gentleman strolled up to him, looking very out of place in dark navy sweats.  More impressive was the raven black hair, which looked very out of place given his wrinkled skin and frail figure.  “What, you’ve never seen a man desperately cling to youth with hair dye before?” he asked, clearly used to the stares.  “We can’t all have vibrant hair color, Finley.”

“I’m used to your kind trying to over-compensate with fancy cars,” Finn admitted, unable to pull his eyes away from the older man’s thick beard.  “And my name is Finn.  Respect my name, and I’ll respect yours.  Bradford.”

Brad threw his head back in raucous laughter.  “Oh yes, you are an excellent choice.  Come here!”  Brad pulled him in close, and started to kiss him full on the lips.  It took Finn a few moments to realize that the odd sensation in his mouth was Brad’s tongue, and a few more moments to realize that the kiss was how Brad was planning to perform the merge.  His height was one of the first things to go-- he no longer needed to bend down to maintain contact-- and his skin felt a bit stiff as it tightened with age.  But it was the beard that really felt odd.

Brad’s facial hair crept onto Finn’s chin and worked its way up his sideburns like some sort of crawling ooze, while a smaller tendril grew up toward his nose to form a mustache.  The sudden itch of new hair under his nose was a bit much, and Finn briefly opened his eyes.  The man in front of him was clearly a few decades younger, which could only mean he was now a few decades older.

“Just a bit more,” Brad said, panting for breath.  “We need to even out our hair color, and I think our weight is still a bit uneven.  Once we’re done we can stop by the courthouse and file all the paperwork.”  Finn nodded in understanding, and leaned back in for another kiss.

-----------------------------------------------

“Is it normal for hair dye to completely vanish when a merge has finished?” Brad asked, as they sat in front of a mirror in the lobby of the County Recorder Clerk.  “Our hair should be a combination of the two inputs, but it’s like your red hair and my former brown hair mixed together, rather than the deep black I was dyeing it to be once it started to go gray.”

Finn just shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t know why you’re asking me.  You were my first merge.  I didn’t even really register that this was a technology that existed until you reached out to me.  I’m just glad we just look like twins and not, like... cloned copies of each other.”

“I’m just glad I got to keep my piercings,” Brad said as he absent-mindedly traced the heavy stud with his finger.  “Sorry if you didn’t want to deal with jewelry.  Yours look small enough that it would probably heal shut in a few weeks.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” Finn admitted, still getting used to the idea that the man with the thick beard was his new reflection and his new body.  “Do you think they would let us change our names when we register with the state?  I really don’t feel like a Finley anymore.”

“I hope so,” Brad replied, following up with another deep laugh.  “I was planning to change my name to Bradley.  It won’t change my nickname but, it just feels right somehow.  Like our names merged when our bodies did.”

Finn smiled.  “I think you’re right.  Finnegan sounds pretentious and borderline obnoxious, but... I also think that it’s my name, now.”

Brad responded by slinging an arm around his shoulder, giving Finn a supportive squeeze.  “I think it’s an excellent choice.”

[bluemoonperegrine]

A WIP snippet and additional silliness

Chapter 3 of "A Friend Indeed" is sloooowly coming together.

I've sent my collaborator Kat (@onbearfeet) the various ways slightly addled Jack is making a fool of himself, which inspired additional silliness. We figured we'd share.

Here's part of the start of the chapter.

[Jack's not 100% with it yet. His mind is wandering as he gazes at Elsa, who's trying to tell him important information.]

Watching Ted lope through the breached wall filled Jack with joy. If her wide smile was any indication, Elsa felt similarly. She’d laughed as well, a delightful—

“RUSSELL!”

Jack startled, spilling some of the pink, vaguely fruit-flavored nutrition drink from the glass in his hand onto borrowed sweatpants. Better those, he supposed, than the fine leather of the chair Elsa had insisted he take or the computer keyboard on the desk in front of him.

“Bloody hell,” Elsa sighed.

Jack gave her a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, Elsa. You’ve been more than generous, and…” He looked for somewhere safe to set the wet glass and came up empty. “I’ll go. I can reimburse you for the clothes.” 

Although Elsa hadn’t said it, the gray Nike sweatshirt and sweatpants she’d thrust at him a half hour earlier were hers. The soft cotton carried her scent despite having recently been laundered and pressed. The legs and arms were a little too short, but overall the sweats were comfortable. Jack couldn’t be happier.

Elsa fixed an unamused look on him. “Are you daft? That—”

BAM!

None of the pink fluid escaped the glass this time. The sound of the creature hurling itself at the manor was familiar already.

“That,” Elsa said, “is why you’re staying here at least until dawn. And honestly…” She pursed her crimson lips as her dark eyes flicked over him. 

He was a mess, Jack knew. He had been before he’d spilled the artificially flavored liquid Elsa had ordered him to drink on her sweats.

They’d agreed that he needed to get into clean clothes and eat before Elsa would explain why something was trying to break into the manor. By the time Jack had washed up in a powder room more elegant than most luxury hotels, the attacker had gone quiet.

“…you need at least a full day’s rest,” Elsa informed him. “I’m surprised you made it up the stairs! I should have made you take the lift.”

Her concern warmed Jack’s heart. “You could have carried me.”

Elsa blinked, and Jack felt his eyes widen as his words caught up with him. Where had that come from? It must be the silver talking. 

“I could have,” Elsa said with a hint of a smirk.

Jack nodded.

--------------------------------

Then Kat and I started goofing on it.

Kat: Jack you dingus 🤦‍♀️

Me: I want Elsa to carry Jack over a threshold. 😂

Bridal style or sack of potatoes?

yes bridal style initially 😂

Jack, internally, after she switches to a rescue carry: don't compliment her ass don't mention her ass don't THINK about her ass--

🤣 🤣 🤣 If he's addled he'd compliment her ass

He'll do it the second he's even slightly distracted

He wouldn't say this but it's funny to think about. "Dat ass!" Elsa: *drops him on his head*

Elsa: You're getting the room with the bat wallpaper because it's closest to the stairs.

Jack: Has anyone told you you have a spectacular ass?

Elsa: *drops him on his head, but on a bed*

Elsa: They have. You're the first of them who wasn't slapped.

Jack: Thank you kindly.

*stabbed

Yes, that's better

[britcision]

So this week in “the universe makes a concerted effort to give me more panic attacks”:

- my sewing machine has broken for the second time this month. Last time it fixed itself. This time it will not. Tried replacing the plug in just in case it wasn’t the whole machine - no good

- went hunting for mother’s sewing machine, which needs an extra huge transformer to be plugged in in this country without burning down the house

- found mother’s machine. No transformer. Pooled the family brain trust. The transformer may have been thrown out (mother’s machine also despises me and was why I never picked up sewing again for a decade)

- partner’s mother’s sewing machine is 3 hours drive away each way, and they do not currently have anywhere we can stay over while retrieving it (this machine also HATES me and will not sew for more than 2 inches without jumping)

- we have at least 3 costumes to finish by mid May, all of which are at least 6 different garments - and another 2 by mid June

- my disabled ass has finished two costumes in May before, both much smaller and I nearly died

- just found out I need to entirely redo the lining on one of them from scratch because one of my panels was too small but I trimmed the goddamn seams early to try and french seam the fraying fuck

- for some ungodly reason the embroidery thread I was using to try and make a lil doll face is bleeding black dye across the fabric that will not wash out

- just found out I’m not getting anymore billable hours at work, possibly until mid April

- my insurance company has now decided to stop covering half my meds up front, correctly deducing that it’s gonna be way harder for me to submit receipts for reimbursement because their online portal is a hellscape. Unrelated to sewing crisis, just not helping

Fortunately I do not stand alone against said universe and between us partner and I were able to sneak in on a huge sale today and afford an actual new sewing machine, which can be repaired by the shop we bought it from if it also dies

(If we’d waited another 2 days no chance we could not have afforded it, woulda had to get a dinky baby machine and hope it was as powered by dark gods as the last one or go thrifting

One friend who went to sewing school has told me multiple times my previous machine should not exist (sewed 8 layers of insulated padding on tension setting 2) - the model is completely discontinued and I couldn’t even find refurbished

Another friend has now acquired 3 thrift/given machines, none of which actually work and are all missing parts

This was somehow literally the best week this could have happened if it had to happen at all)

So yeah hyperventilating still happened but I am learning new tricks to stop that and didn’t get a full blown panic attack, we remain triumphant

And we made pancake cookies

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 5

Masterlist

Series masterlist

Part 4 🍂 Part 6

Pairing: Syverson x ofc

Series summary: Life with Sy, what more can you wish for? The most amazing husband and father to a whole litter of cute little kids... Sometimes you wonder "how did you get here?"

Chapter warnings: Mostly fluff, some frustrations (we're still remodeling, folks), but we're getting there.

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: @keanureevesisbae congrats on 43k! You are doing so great ❤️ I am proud, girrrrrl ❤️

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn

“Matthei- I’ll spell it for you.” As you did, you picked at the already raw skin around your fingernails nervously. It had been almost ten weeks, and the furniture you’d had shipped was supposed to have arrived weeks ago. Instead, as was evident from the absence of, well, furniture, it hadn’t arrived. In its place, you had received the very unwelcome phone call that the shipping container ‘had been misplaced’, and that you should keep in touch with such and such company to see if they could get it back for you. In other words: ‘We lost your shit, please see to it that you somehow find it.’ Now, you were on the phone with a new company every other day, for at least an hour, being jerked around like a fool, and no one was giving you any information. You were seconds away from throwing your phone through the kitchen when Sy knocked. He was here so often now that you’d just given him a key.

“Lara?” He whispered, but you raised your hand at him to shut him up. He mouthed the words ‘what’s going on?’ at you, which landed him another dismissive gesture.

“Fine, I’ll hold,” you said when the lady on the phone asked you to. You put the phone on speaker and slammed it down on the table before making a break for the coffee machine. “Coffee, Sy?”

“Always,” he answered. You could hear the grin in his voice. “Sugar, are you alright?” As you waited for the coffee to brew, you brought Sy up to speed on the whole Furniture Fiasco.  

“Long story short,” you finally said after ranting about the situation for fifteen minutes, “all my stuff ended up in Kazbukmenistan or wherever.” The whole time, you were still on hold. Sy asked for some details, and you gestured at the folder that was open on the table. He took a quick look through it.

“Hand me the phone,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but you weren’t inclined to indulge him.

“Sy, you don’t have to…”

“Hand me the phone,” he repeated, only this time, it really wasn’t a question. As much as you hated it when men tried to boss you around, something in his voice shut your Girlboss-attitude right up. The woman you’d been on the phone with finally returned.

“Miss, I have some bad news,” she said. Sy raised a finger at you to keep you quiet.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, she’s not here right now, what’s the bad news?” It was that voice again. The phone-lady was clearly taken aback by the sudden change on the other side of the line.

“The container that the furniture is in, can’t be found in the system,” she said in her phone-lady voice. You hated the phone-lady voice. All you’d been hearing over the past six weeks was phone-lady voices. And one man who had had the audacity to tell you ‘I’m sorry, little missy.’ You had kindly told him to fuck all the way off.

“Ma’am, I’m very sorry, but that won’t do.” Apparently, that voice had an even more stern variant, and apart from making you want to immediately do everything he told you to, it also turned you on big time. “I understand you’re just doing your job, but somewhere down the line, someone didn’t. Now I’m gonna need to know who that was and what they did or didn’t do that they shouldn’t or should have done, so we can get this mess sorted.” It took him twenty minutes to get someone on the phone who actually seemed to know what was going on, and another ten to get them to promise to give you an answer by the end of the week, or else a reimbursement for the shipping cost, and the cost of your things.

“Thirty minutes,” you said, “it took you thirty minutes to do what I’ve been trying to do for six weeks.” You just couldn’t believe it. Tears burned behind your eyes as you vowed to yourself to scrap the words ‘I don’t need a man’ from your vocabulary forever.

“I’m just a little more comfortable barking orders, that’s all,” he said as he gently laid a hand on your shoulder. The kindness in his voice, his eyes and his gesture broke you. You were exhausted from the move, the remodeling, your classes, dealing with the phone-ladies and their stupid voices, and from sleeping on a horrible air mattress. Tears flowed freely and you cursed yourself for your stupid behavior.

“C’mere, Sugar,” Sy said softly as he pulled you into a hug, “you look dog-tired, you know that?” You knew you felt it, so you weren’t surprised you looked the part, but it still mad you feel embarrassed. A tired look wasn’t a good look, and something inside you wanted to look good for him. Or, you know, not for him, but just when you were around him. Okay, fine, for him. He let you cry for a while, and you had to fight to not lose yourself in the warmth and strength of his embrace. Eventually, you were so fed up with yourself and the way you were acting that you managed to force yourself to stop crying and broke away from his hug. You felt two strong hands on the sides of your face, and thumbs wiping the tears off your cheeks.

“You know what works wonders for all that frustration?” Either that sounded strangely sexual, or you were imagining things. “Tearin’ up some carpet. C’mon.” He actually managed to make you laugh. It wasn’t completely genuine, but it was a start.

Sy handled the first corner of the first room carefully, because neither of you had any idea what was underneath the carpet.

“Shit,” you heard him say from where you were standing. That didn’t sound good, did it? “Sugar, I’ll still buy this house from ya.”

“What is it?” The way he was talking to you right now sure kindled your curiosity. As it turns out, some ‘degenerate’ – Sy’s exact words - had dared to carpet over some beautiful hardwood floors. You checked the other rooms first, before tearing the rest of the room up, because curiosity had really gotten the better of both of you. It wasn’t necessarily surprising that you found the same floorboards in the other rooms, but it was still exciting. One room had some seriously ugly vinyl underneath the carpet. Strange. You urged Sy to check underneath that, too, even though he wasn’t initially planning on it.

“My bad, baby,” he chuckled, “you were right.” When he said the word ‘baby’, your heart rate somehow slowed down and sped up at the same time. Over the past few weeks, you had barely gotten used to ‘sugar’, and now this? It took a lot more than you cared to admit to calm yourself back down.

Now that you knew what you were dealing with, it was time to deal with some of that aggression. You found out quickly that taking out your aggression on a carpet was easier said than done. The material was stiff, and heavy, and so thick that even your small-people rage wasn’t enough to give you the strength to cut through it. But you had Sy, who was in all aspects much better equipped to handle this stupid carpet. That didn’t mean you didn’t almost kick him out – twice – because he made you mad when he couldn’t stop laughing at the way you struggled.

“Next time, Syverson, I’m telling myself to leave, and you can do this by yourself!” You yelled after the second time while you wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Who the hell did he think he was?

“Sorry, Sugar, wouldn’t want ya to go,” he said with a wide smile on his face. “I could use a drink, though, I’m runnin’ a li’l hot here.” For some reason – to torture you, to show off… you had no idea – he decided to prove his point by cleaning the sweat of his face, except he didn’t have the common decency to use his hands. No, of course not. Sy just had to use the bottom of his t-shirt. And now you were left standing there with nothing else to do but look at Sy’s abs. Okay there were other places to look, and you could have just turned around and made a break for the kitchen, but your brain made those abs a priority, because dear God were they amazing… Strong, defined, a very non-disgusting amount of hairy, sweaty and… God you hated how Jules was always right.

“Fuck, I’m dead,” you said as you slumped down into a chair at the kitchen table. You had found it at the side of the road and begged Julie to take it to your house. It shouldn’t have been here for as long as it had. You should have been in possession of your furniture by now. Every joint in your body popped when you moved, every muscle protested. Even picking up your phone to order a pizza felt like a trip up mount Everest. Sy handed you a cold coke from your fridge and grabbed himself a beer. You laughed at the ease with which he did it. Sy truly had a habit of making himself at home. Strangely, it made you feel more at home, too. He was really great to have around - especially when he wasn’t offering to help you with something – and you missed him when he was gone. You ordered the pizza and hung up the phone, sinking down into the chair even further, letting your head hang back.

“Ow,” you groaned when something in your body made a very concerning noise.

“You need to get yourself a decent bed, Sugar,” Sy said. His voice was serious; he was really concerned. “Now.”

“What if –“ you started, but you got no chance to finish your sentence.

“If they find your stuff,” Sy said while clearly trying to keep his voice friendly, “you’ll have an extra bed for a guest room. You have plenty of space for plenty of beds. You only have one back.” He was right, and you knew it, but you couldn’t let yourself go down without a fight.

“Sy-“ Again; no chance to finish. He stood up from his chair and walked around the table to stand behind you. Hands landed on your shoulders, strong fingers pinched your muscles, making you wince.

“That don't sound too good, Sugar,” he said, “so you can get a new bed by the end of this week, or I’m buying you one.”

“What, you want me in bed so much you’d buy me one to make it happen?” The words were out before you realized it. Fuck! You were the one who fucked it up by saying he was a friend, right? Sy was over you by now, you were sure of it. Why were you flirting with him? Badly, too, but that was just the only way you knew how. His fingers tightened on your shoulders until it started to hurt a little. “Sugar, you have no goddamn idea,” he said hoarsely before walking to the door to collect your pizza.

[salvadorbonaparte]

About the courier thing. I looked at the Lufthansa website would you recommend it if someone had never flown before? Like I'd need to get a passport for this, only traveled by car/ ship so far.

About picking the deliveries up and delivering them, if I live in town A and the company is in City B do I have to go there to pick it up? Will it be at the airport? Bc the website made it look like you get the message that they need you, then you basically that instant jump in your car drive to the company drive to the airport and jump into the plane, land jump into a taxi and go to the place you need to be.

My concerns are that I'll only get reimbursed for things like the taxi bc they need me to have an international CreditCard... Could you describe how tight these times are? Like what happens if I don't have the time to catch the booked flight bc they booked it too tightly for it to be realistic?

When I land in other countries, what exactly is common place there? Will I be expected and picked up or will I have to find a taxi to the company myself?

If there isnt an instant flight back, do they pay/book or only reimburse you for finding a hotel/ hostel? What happens if you miss your flight back?

You can probably tell lol but I'd be interested but I'm pretty anxious about all the stuff they don't specify on their website. Like I'm not willing to risk having to pay for a flight back home from the US because there was a traffic jam and I missed my booked flight

Also, talking about safety lol, would you recommend this to a woman? The people that left glowing reviews about how great the job is only had masculine names afaik.

And do they give you the info you need for the countries you travel to? Like if I, as a woman, would travel to a country that requires me to wear something to hide my hair would they tell me that? Or would uncultured little ol' me have to frantically google what kinda clothes I would be able to wear? And what kinda attire would they expect at the companies you're supposed to deliver to? Like if I look like shit after a 10 hour flight and deliver a contract or a designer dress they aren't gonna kill me right?

Also the website said to always have a light bag ready which is fair but if I show up with a small case that I wouldn't be able to take with me to my seat are they gonna say I'm taking too much time while I wait for my baggage?

Hello! Thank you for reaching out. I am going to try and answer these questions to the best of my ability, but I've only flown two missions and both were the same company and destination, so I am not an expert on this.

You'd definitely have to get a passport. I don't know if I'd recommend it because I don't know you personally. I flew for the first time when I was two and flew alone for the first time when I was five. I lived abroad for a while and had to fly back and forth between semesters. I know my local airport like the back of my hand and feel pretty comfortable flying. OBC missions can be really stressful, and never having flown before could add to that stress. On the other hand, maybe you thrive under that stress. Maybe it can be an adventure.

The pickup location can differ afaik. I had to pick up the cargo both times at a company close to the airport but I've also heard of cases where the cargo is in a different city and you're supposed to pick it up or where it is picked up at the airport. Same for the drop off. Both of my missions were airplane parts so my drop off was outside the airport. I heard that occassionally you'd have to take a taxi to some company but they would tell you about the drop off location or at least whom to contact once you land. International airports always have taxis outside and usually public transport so you should be fine as long as you have an address. You have to be flexible. The timing is also different. I once had to cancel a request because they wanted me to be in Hamburg within an hour (the high-speed train alone takes longer than an hour). Yesterday I got the message in the early afternoon and the flight was in the evening so I had time to prepare. You don't have to answer requests if you don't have time or think you can't manage the pickup time. They usually message everyone on their list who lives in a certain radius and then whoever answers first and can do it gets the mission. If you're on a mission and something goes horribly wrong, I guess you have to contact the company and sort it out together with them. I have no idea how that works because that never happened to me luckily. I only accept missions that I think are realistic and I guess if I were to miss a plane or connection they'd have to rebook me since I am the one with the cargo and finding someone else that late in the process would be even more expensive? I don't know what happens if you miss your flight back and I assume it depends on if it is your fault or something unforseen.

About the money thing I think it depends on the company again. I flew with Wings Onboard the last two times and they book your flight and hotel so you only need to cover things like transport, roaming, excess baggage if it comes up. Having a visa card or similar is really important for this and also having a little money on it for emergencies. For example, I paid 80 Euro for taxis plus 130 for excess baggage this time that I will get reimbursed. Last time I only paid like 2 Euro for a parking ticket and that was it. You need to be prepared for emergencies but you should get everything but food reimbursed.

About the gender thing, I am seen as a woman and I am pretty short and I did not accept a mission last time because I felt uncomfortable flying to that country at night. In general, it can be dangerous as a woman everywhere so take the normal safety precautions and listen to your intuition if something seems dangerous. Other than safety, being a short female-perceived person has its upsides because my cargo was 30kg and men helped me carry it lol.

I received no cultural insights like that but I also flew to my neighbouring country so I don't know if they would tell you. I'd google just in case. What they will tell you however, at least Wings does, is if there is any visa or customs regulations you need to be aware of, which I think is even more vital. About clothes in general, since it is pretty spontaneous missions no one minded so far that I was wearing jeans and t shirts. Most of them never had to deal with OBCs so they are mostly just curious. You're not technically employed by them, you're just delivering something, and they care a lot more about the cargo than you.

I always have a little backpack packed, which is more practical than a case, because it can fit under your seat or in the overhead compartment. The important part is that it is small enough to be counted as hand luggage for most major airlines. If you have cargo that counts as hand luggage you can take it with you and maybe fit it in the bag. If the cargo is large enough for checked baggage you still have your essential things with you and can grab them quickly without having to wait for them too. The company will book your flight for you and will opt for the cheapest option, which is usually economy with either only hand luggage or hand luggage and one piece of checked luggage. As long as you have your phone, charger, money, passport, perhaps a pyjama and toothbrush and empty water bottle you should be fine.

In general, it can be stressful and you have to be flexible and spontaneous when things go wrong, but the past two missions I noticed that a courier is already so much cheaper and faster for them that small delays don't matter. I hurried so much to check out my cargo and go to the drop off point and when I called them they were like "both our cars are busy right now, it will take maybe 15 minutes" and then took over 30 minutes to arrive. As long as you make the flight and the cargo is safe they don't care if you took five minutes longer to find the exit or went to the bathroom. Five minutes longer still beats the time or money they'd have to put into other logistics solutions.

You can DM me for more questions and I can even send you some (censored) mission briefings if you want to know how much information you get. I hope this was helpful!

[whatisthisidefk]

INSURANCE PSA

I don't have a long reach here, but I'm putting this out into the world in hopes that someone who needs it will see it.

I work as a legal proofreader, which means I read all kinds of legal documents and look for errors. A big part of my job involves reading reports of California wildfire claims, especially how the insurance companies and law firms involved award damages to people. Lots of people have lost important or expensive items, but have been deemed ineligible for reimbursement because of one thing:

They have no proof that they ever owned those items.

The difference between receiving even a little money to replace your treasured items (your destroyed car, coin collection, video game systems, etc.) or getting nothing is having some kind of pre-fire proof that the item existed in the first place. 90% of claims that get reimbursed have either receipts for purchase or photos of the items submitted with the claim paperwork. Especially in the case of the wildfires, where many people are affected and there are a lot of claims to be paid, having that proof will go a lot further than just your word.

Even if you don't have insurance on your living space (though please get renter's insurance at very least!), you should still take photos of your possessions. Focus on your computers, antiques, collectibles, and vehicles, but like, in my case, I have several very expensive spinning wheels and weaving looms, all of which would be very hard to replace on my own. I have a couple of designer handbags, and lots of valuable books. I took pics of everything and put them onto an SD card that lives in a small fire safe, just in case. If, god forbid, I ever need to make a claim because of a fire or a flood or a tornado, I will have proof that these things were in my possession.

Money won't replace the memories or bring back what was lost, but you don't want to miss out on the opportunity to gain back some of your beloved or expensive belongings after a disaster. Keeping some track of them will make the process easier to bear AND will give you an advantage when it comes down to the insurance companies and law firms making a decision in your favor.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Spoon Deficit

This is going to be one of those points where I’m just not okay with this disability bullshit.

I mean, I cope, for the most part. I like to think I cope. Sure, I complain a bit, but I do shit. I get on with my life. But there are some times when the spoons I need for “Eh, I’m pretty much used to it” just aren’t there anymore, and I just wind up with, “Why me?” running around in my head. It’s self-pitying bullshit and I hate it, but it feels like a pretty valid question. Even if I know the answer is “There is no ‘why’; shit just happens”.

Hell, especially when I know the answer is “There is no ‘why’; shit just happens”.

I’m tired of needing a cane. I’m tired of having a pinched nerve that would have just been an annoyance a few years ago fucking cripple me for three days, because my pain response is always set to “I hurt” and anything that is actually hurting me is ten times worse as a result. I’m tired of having to carefully budget spoons for shit I actually need to do, and all too often having to cancel things I really want to do because all the spoons had to go to things I wouldn’t have given a second thought to a few years ago.

I think most of all is that I’m tired of dealing with this shit alone. Don’t get me wrong; I love having my space. I love my flat despite its many problems that should have been fixed years ago - I can hardly complain about my stepfather’s procrastination when at least I have a roof over my head that I’m not going to lose to economic bullshit, and for which I don’t have to work a full-time job or argue with the benefits people. (Because seriously - the benefits agencies here will refuse benefits to people who are undergoing radical chemotherapy, so I don’t think they’re going to have a lot of sympathy for fibromyalgia.) Just ... I have to clean. I have to dust, run the vacuum, scrub the bathroom, wipe down the kitchen surfaces, take out the trash and recycling. I have to cook, and do the dishes by hand. I have to manage the laundry. I have to go out for the things I accidentally forgot to pick up in the big online grocery order (or the things that it’s not prudent to pick up until nearer the time of cooking, because storage space), or things that weren’t available when they were packing my shopping, or for things I can’t order online. All of this takes so many more spoons than it used to, and leaves me with very little to actually just ... do other things.

But ... I mean, there’s no one else. I mean, my parentals could help with some of it, but I refuse to ask them to come over and clean up my mess, no one touches my laundry but me, and I’m not sending them out to the shops on my behalf because I don’t carry cash to reimburse them and they’re aware enough of the economic nightmare this country has become that they’d start fussing over my financial situation. (Which is essentially fine, by the way; I just don’t have it in me to have that conversation.)

This is my way of saying, “I have to go out for mallet meds and some other groceries and I haven’t recovered the spoons I spent during this fairly hellish week and my right arm’s still having twinges and the pollen is turning my sinuses into fibreglass and pain and I am not coping today and am tired of suffering”. Clearly I am in spoon deficit right now. I just wish there was an easier way of recharging them and still doing all the things I’m supposed to do.

[korrasera]

svb & capitalist psychology

This single tweet is a good example of the psychology of capitalism, in which you can see a blind spot that capitalist true believers always seem to have.

They are always seeking to protect the capital, not the people and not our collective society. How does Bill Ackman's tweet demonstrate that? I'm glad you asked.

He thinks that this isn't a bailout because the company and the executives will take losses. This positions the depositors as innocents caught up in the failure of the bank. As though the depositors were just common folk who had their savings account there, surely you don't hold Joe Average responsible when the bank they're using fails, right?

The depositors are not Joe Average, they are companies with assets measuring in the hundreds of thousands of dollars at a minimum. Many had millions in assets in SVB and Circle had $3.3 billion banked:

The depositors are capitalists, meaning that they are investing capital in order to create profit. And while capitalists may describe it as a healthy competition, in reality capitalism is effectively a card game in which everyone is cheating.

When capitalists want to experiment with new strategies to make Even More Money Than Ever Before, they're gambling on an extremely large scale. It's a simple kind of bet, too.

On one side, their risk. Their idea might fail and they might lose everything. This is why you see capitalists learn how to save their money in overseas banks or report income in different countries, all to lower the amount of taxes they have to pay. This reduces how much risk they face.

On the other side, their profit potential. Their idea might hit it big and they might get even more goddamn wealthy. In other words, they profit. And just like you see them dodging taxes to mitigate risk, capitalists work to do everything they can to make that potential payout as high as possible. Things like charging customers additional fees, exploiting low cost labor markets (up to and very much including slavery), and literally killing, stealing, and lying whenever they need to.

The depositors were part of the same card game, just like the investors and the executives. Their money being invested in the bank was in turn being invested in other capitalist ventures. The interest rate the bank was repaying these companies was their cut of the profit from that process, just as surely as any direct sale of goods or services.

Like, I don't know if people really clearly understand how interconnected our world is, how our financial systems create a complex web of relationships. The capitalist mechanism functionally *is* capitalism, a web of profit generating mechanisms that specifically require and demand the exploitation of people.

The depositors are not innocents, they are accessories before the fact.

What protects Joe Average is that the FDIC ensures every savings account in the US for up to $250,000, so Joe Average won't lose his life savings, which would ruin a lot of working class and middle class people in the US.

The companies that are exposed and that want to be helped by the government are asking us, the collective us, to reimburse them when their company couldn't compete successfully and went under. And we don't even get anything out of it, it's not like this gives us a cut of the profits that they could make in the future, they just want the money for free because losing what they have sucked.

Since I'm long-winded and not great at making a point, here's the really simple version:

Capitalists see companies, capital, the entire structure of the system itself like they see their neighbor. Like a person. To them, they see a company as an individual who should be protected, and not as a part of the machine that grinds everyone down. They cannot see it systemically, they see it from an individualist perspective. At least, I think the vast majority of them do.

[quinnharperwrites]

Isles of Blirrosia: Chapter 4

Note: Ehehe. AP classes are starting to AP (ifykyk). I don't really have much of an excuse other than writers block. Here's the part of Chapter 4 I'm happy with though. IDK if the rest of it will be done next Sunday, or the Sunday after :/.

Taglist: @anonymousfoz, @kaiarchives, @awleeofficial, @immortaladrien

Let me know if you would like to be added!

< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

Saffron could faintly hear the rustling leaves from the trees outside. How peaceful. The wind didn’t usually start blowing on this side until the evening. 

She snuggled her head into her pillow. If only she could stay like this forever, or even for just one day. In the background, she could hear the familiar sounds of screeching tires and the city hustle-bustle. She cracked one eye open to look at the window. The sky was getting darker, but she could still see the light of the sun. It should be set in a few hours.

Wait…what?!

She jolted up from her bed and immediately leaned over to her bedside table for her phone, only to discover its absence.

“Oh, no. Where is it, where is it?”

After groggily groping around the bed and floor for an embarrassing amount of time, she found it under her bed (she didn’t even want to think about how it got there) and checked the time.

5:54. 5:54? Already?!

A wave of guilt washed Saffron over from head to toe. There was no point in showing up to the lecture now. She had missed her emotional control class. She always did her best to make that class because she felt bad for Professor Harley; no one showed up to his class on Mondays because most of them had a conflicting class specific to their aptitude—the rest usually didn’t show up. Aura manipulation is a pretty rare aptitude, so there wasn’t a teacher to instruct her. Her parents managed to find a private tutor a couple of years back who had an aptitude that enhanced his knowledge, so he was able to help her. She sees him about once or twice a week now, as opposed to every day like she did while growing up.

This day was like a roller coaster, but at least Saffron could see that the end was soon.

Saffron clambered back onto her bed and opened the news app. She didn’t want to go to the library and work on the project, but at least she could do this to pass the time. She clicked the ‘Hero Society’ tab, and after scrolling through a few headlines, she was starting to wish that she hadn’t.

Sensation Defeats an Amateur Villain at the Rosia Central City Bank! 

Ace of Spades Releases his Custom Deck of Cards!

Water Jelly Surprises a Third-Grade Class on a Field Trip!

Saffron Solis Nearly DESTROYS a Mango Nectar Billboard! 

Ginger Solis Spotted With Flowers! Has she Finally Rebounded from her Break-up?

Saffron checked the last two authors, and she wasn’t surprised by the names. Amelia Roberts of the Morning Star Chronicles and Larry McCarten of the Rosia Daily Express. Two rival reporters from two of the most successful news companies in all of Blirrosia.

Ms. Roberts was known for her extreme curiosity, but the way she satisfied it was pretty nosy. She seemed to have it out for Saffron, and everyone involved knew why. 

When Saffron was in middle school, she caught Amelia staking out in a car outside the school like a weirdo, probably to get some pictures, judging by the size of her camera. Don’t ask her why, but Saffron decided it would be a good idea to listen to Lai when she said to mimic the auras of a handful of her classmates and creepily surround Ms. Roberts’ car. She had been looking down at something on her phone, but Saffron knew the moment she saw the auras from her scream. After that, the prank went horribly. Ms. Roberts had jumped up and hit her head on the roof of her car before passing out. At first, Saffron was worried that it was from the impact, but she later found out it was from the shock. Saffron’s parents had to reimburse her and were surprisingly able to convince her not to sue; Saffron had been suspended for a week for using her powers without permission. 

After the altercation, Saffron’s name was perpetually on the news. First, it was about the incident. But after Ms. Roberts returned to her job, she would watch like a hawk for any time Saffron screwed up, then blow it out of proportion. Saffron had no clue how she still had her job, but by now, she’s learned to deal with it.

Larry McCarten on the other hand? He was a real piece of work. Despite the denials, he was a prominent member of the Anti-Hero Movement. Saffron thought that it couldn’t get much worse than Amelia Roberts, but for the past two or three years, Mr. McCarten proved her wrong. If Ms. Roberts was nosy, Larry McCarten was downright invasive. He was close to crossing the line to stalker behavior. He was constantly writing about scandals—most of them untrue. But Saffron hated him for personal reasons.

She was about to skim through the article written about her when she received a call. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw her best friend's caller ID pop up on her screen.

“Hey! How was your class?”

“I didn’t go.”

“Wha–? But you never miss class. We need to attend as many as we can so we can be the best! What happened?”

She let out a shaky breath. “Lai, you won’t even believe what happened today.”

< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

[jynersq]

i’m going to start. fucking. SCREAMING.

so, my university has a summer program which invites undergraduates from underrepresented and underserved communities in STEM fields to come and work in a lab for 8-10 weeks. they get paired with a lab where they’ll have an advisor and a “big sibling” grad student mentor.

they get a biweekly stipend as part of their experience here, to allow them to pay for food and fun and to replace the loss of income from another summer job.

anyway. we are now a few weeks into the program. the students were supposed to be paid at the very start of the program 2.5 wks ago, to offset food and travel costs and to tide them over until the dining halls opened for the summer session. as of yesterday, they should have received 2 payments (and reimbursement for travel costs, though that often takes longer).

as of this morning, my mentee had received no payments. zero. zip. nada. fortunately, they had family and savings to rely on, but i cannot emphasize enough how much this program is specifically targeted at underrepresented minorities, which of course includes all kinds of situations which may make having savings or other safety difficult to impossible.

afaik, my mentee and the rest of their cohort have all been paid both stipend amounts as of late afternoon TODAY, as in, they were paid FINALLY today after SOME OF THE STUDENTS (and my own advisor who emailed instead of allowing me to send out an extremely feral email myself, which. understandable) but in my opinion it is too little too fucking late. they deserve back pay AT LEAST. but it’s just so fucking emblematic of the problem STEM has with understanding the difference between recruiting and keeping minorities in STEM, particularly in academia.

you can probably guess the demographic of the program heads, but i’ll tell you anyway: they’re a handful of white male tenured faculty between the ages of 50-80, mostly PhDs or MD/PhDs making well over 100k a year. some of them, 200k. i want to tear my hair out because this is the problem. this is the cause of the problems academia is having with life science students (i am specifying because this is my field - not that it isn’t a problem in other disciplines!) especially women and people of color fleeing en masse as soon as they graduate. or leaving before they graduate because this system is not built to consider anyone but the stereotypical white, wealthy, able-bodied person, especially males.

when i die i want academics to lower me into my grave so they can let me down one final time. i am - we are - SO FUCKING OVER the blatant disregard and disrespect. anyway i will be tearing several people a creative range of new assholes in the IMMINENT future.

[servegothess]

Serving Gothess 101

Welcome to Gothess’ GGA Blog~ This is LESSON #1 in the Serving Gothess 101 course. you should be here for exploring reality 3.0 and what it takes to truly serve Gothess. Each lesson is an opportunity to reflect on your current habits, gain deeper insight on what I expect and how to fulfill those expectations safely. Participating in the Zdrones or Zforce, does not equate to being owned or collared. There is a hierarchy on Planet Z and it's important that you know the order and understand why they're in place. 1. O/our safety, state of mind and needs will ALWAYS take top priority. 2. My desires & wants. 3. your desires and wants. *Level 1 and 3 will be explained and touched on in their respective blog posts, links will be updated in this blog when available.

꩜ Why Prioritizing My Wants & Desires Matters ꩜ There is a significant difference between serving Me during sessions/scenes and serving Me in My Queendom. This space is dedicated to My peace, relaxation and divinity. This is sacred and should be met with respect and willingness. I come first here, I get what I want, how I prefer it and when I desire it. I guide and look after My goondrones. I expect My servants to want the responsibility of this privilege and I will not pull teeth or force you to want to meet My expectations. I expect obedience, versatility of service style (reactive, proactive and anticipatory) and honest communication. If you aren't interested in learning or willing to show up prepared for this, then this is respectfully not a level for you. I provide the utmost care, intentional guidance and commitment to being the best Dominant I can, I expect the energy to be matched or surpassed. ꩜ Daily Ways to Please Gothess ꩜ If this excites or intrigues you, utilize this next section to begin forming habits based to strengthen your GNWO service skills. The G.O.O.N.S acronym will help keep yourself aligned with your duties. ꩜ Gratitude: Find at least two things to be grateful for everyday. One related to submission and one related to general life. If you can, document it in a journal or send it in a daily message to Gothess. If you struggle to find things, repeat this mantra to yourself everyday until you can come up with gratitude easier: goons look for the daily good. ꩜ Offerings: Contributing to My lifestyle, wealth, relaxation, amusement or advancement is required daily/weekly (depending on negotiation). Send tributes, gifts, thank you tips on LF, goonCommands, $weet talk, use Zerabytes or reimburse/fund an expense. After presenting Me with an offering be sure to thank Me via DMs or wishlist notes only. No messages in CA or KoFi notes. Always consult your budget and responsibilities, before indulging. Links: https://servegothess.com ( tributes/tithes, reimbursements; no notes) $galacticgothess ( tributes/tithes, reimbursements; no notes) https://www.wishtender.com/servegothess (gifts, $weet talks, goonCommand$ and reload Zerabytes; notes fine here) https://www.loyalfans.com/galacticgothess ( thank you tips; notes fine here) ꩜ Obedience / GNWO Obligations: Check My server or posts for tasks that need to be fulfilled. If you are assigned special tasks, they must be done first. Remember running through this list is a perfect way to continue to grow your obedience and devotion to being the best for Gothess. If you're given a task and you don't complete it or fail to communicate an issue, that is direct disobedience. Disobedience has it's consequences and punishments, it is always better to communicate, than avoid/ignore out of fear of disappointing Me or safe-wording. ꩜ Needs & Growth: Make time for self care, mental health and your needs/other responsibilities. A huge part of being the best for Gothess, is being the best to yourself. Committing to healthy habits and goals is a beautiful act of service to Me. I am the perfect motivation and Motivator, I want to see you thriving under My control. Be sure to also communicate needs for extra aftercare/praise/check-ins during reflections or in conversation with Me as well. ꩜ Special time for gooning and worship time: It’s safe to say goons won’t need much convincing for this part. Especially, with the mind bending content I make ;) What better reward than edging and reprogramming for your Gothess. It pleases Me when My goons learn the mantras I create or create their own and share it with Me. Worship is another perfect way to please a Goddess like Me, I love to read poetry, worship letters, goon reflections and sweet messages from My devoted goons. Printing or displaying a picture/gif/video of Me to worship or goon to, is a great way to add ritual and meaning to your time. I have plenty of ideas and tasks for how to enrich this aspect of service. DM or request a block on My calendar for a 1 on 1 conversations.

After reading this, report to Gothess for your Lesson #1 quiz and your GGA Report Card. My DMs are always open for questions and conversation about each lesson. I'm excited to shape you into My obedient dronetoy. If you haven't watch the first lesson clip, you may do so here~ Lesson #1 clip