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dontcare77ghj · 4 years

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Bedside Manner

Natasha x reader x Wanda x Pepper

Tony had renovated an entire floor of the Tower into a medical wing out of necessity. He'd employed an array of doctors to be on standby because he had to. Made sure there were enough medical treatments for enhanced and non-enhanced individuals alike.

Tony did all this because the Avengers were a bunch of clumsy fools.

Those were Tony's words whenever someone asked him to describe the team.

Natasha would usually cut in and add that he was apart of that statement, which would generally cause a small argument between the two.

You and Pepper would fondly roll your eyes at the two before Pepper would change the topic.

If you wanted to be honest, the four of you spent too much time in the medical wing for your liking.

For Natasha and Wanda, it was an occupational hazard. The two were Avengers. They defended the Earth against aliens, and assholes too injuries were a part of the job.

You had also been put into the medical wing a handful of times. Not because you were an Avenger, no, you were a civilian, but because you were just a klutz in general. Something your partners found very endearing to your embarrassment.

Pepper was the only one in your relationship that didn't find herself in a hospital bed every other weekend. The woman could be hopping a marathon in ten-inch heels and not so much as falter.

Waking up in the medical wing, in a bed or by someone's bedside, became a regular occurrence in your relationship, much to Pepper's horror.

"Knock, knock." You rapped on Pepper's door. "I had an appointment with my favorite CEO." You smirked, leaning in the doorway.

"Sweetheart, I didn't know you were coming." Pepper smiled, looking up from her work.

"I wanted to surprise you." You said, entering and closing the door behind you. "I also come bearing gifts." You added, holding up a greasy paper bag.

"Do I smell fries?" Pepper asked, taking it out of your hands. "Oh, have I ever told you how much I love you?" Pepper groaned before kissing your cheek.

"Once or twice." You smirked, taking a seat across from her. "I thought I should feed you before you waste away."

"Good call." Pepper nodded. "I might have to work through dinner, thought I was going to have to skip lunch too." She said, munching on the given fries.

You sat with Pepper talking about your days as she ate and continued filling out paperwork.

"Miss Potts, Miss L/N, Dr. Banner has asked me to alert you that Miss Maximoff has been admitted to the infirmary floor."

"Ow!" Wanda whined, pulling her wrist into her chest.

"Yep. That's a sprained wrist, alright." Bruce said, moving to pick up a roll of bandages. "A pretty nasty sprain too."

After FRIDAY alerted you to your needed presence, you and Pepper had raced up to the infirmary to see Natasha waiting by Wanda's bedside.

"How did you sprain your wrist?" Pepper sighed. "Nat left you alone for ten minutes.

"A lot of things can happen in ten minutes." Wanda protested.

"Not wrong," Natasha smirked, squeezing your thigh.

"Nat!" You gasped, pushing her hand off your thigh. "Jesus!" You exclaimed, cheeks turning red as Natasha cackled.

"Can the two of you behave for five minutes?" Pepper sighed. "We're in the infirmary, and Bruce is right there."

"I didn't even do anything." You protested.

"Wanda, how did you sprain your wrist?" Pepper asked again.

"I was practicing using my powers," Wanda mumbled as Bruce wrapped her wrist. "I lost concentration, and a bookend hit my wrist." She admitted. "Please don't laugh."

"No-one's laughing." You assured her. "Sometimes, things just happen, and you get hurt."

"Y/N would know that the best," Natasha commented, receiving Pepper's elbow to the ribs. "Ow."

"Everyone has clumsy moments." You said. "It doesn't mean we're going to think any less of you if you accidentally injure yourself."

"Like the time Y/N walked into a door," Natasha smirked.

"Okay, you know what, Romanoff?"

"Relax, we still love you despite how clumsy you are," Natasha said, throwing her arm around your shoulders. "Trust me, Wand, it doesn't matter how clumsy you are, you'll never be worse than Y/N."

"How badly is she hurt?" Pepper asked as she rushed into the waiting bay.

"We don't know yet. Cho is still checking her over." You said as you and Wanda stood.

"What happened? Are the two of you okay?" Pepper questioned, pulling the two of you into embraces.

"We're fine," Wanda assured her. "Nat pushed Steve out of the way and got hit. We had to force him to go to the debrief instead of waiting with us."

"God. I hate the three of you. You're going to make me go grey before I hit my prime." She sighed, sinking in a chair.

"You love us." You reminded her, taking a seat beside her.

"I do. I won't deny that." Pepper said, taking one of yours and Wanda's hands and squeezing them tightly.

A door snapped open, causing the three of you to turn quickly. Cho came out, standing in the doorway as you all jumped to your feet.

"How is she?" Wanda asked outright.

"Natasha's okay. She has some bruised ribs and, judging from the bump on her head, we're assuming a concussion as well, but we think she'll be just fine." Cho told you, holding the door open.

"Assume?" You asked. "What do you mean, you assume she has a concussion?"

"Natasha hasn't woken up yet." Cho sighed, leading the three of you to Natasha's bedside.

Natasha was plugged into several IV's and to a heart rate monitor. She looked so peaceful resting in the white bed, but it did nothing to quell your anxieties.

"But that doesn't mean anything bad." Cho quickly added as Pepper and Wanda sat beside the sleeping redhead. "All my scans indicate there to be no brain trauma or any similar issues. The worst injury is a possible concussion. I'll give the three of you some space." She said before leaving.

"I'm gonna kill her if she ever does anything like that again." You sighed, sitting beside Wanda.

"Get in line," Pepper said, pulling out her phone. "I'm ordering her favorite chocolates."

"The Russian or German ones?" Wanda asked.

"Would it be overdoing it if I got both?"

"Get both. You get hungry after a concussion, trust me." You said.

"Fair point." Pepper nodded.

"I'll order us some dinner," Wanda said, pulling out her own phone. "We could be waiting for a while."

Natasha woke up two hours later. Her concussion was apparent from the second she woke up, but she did appreciate the company and the chocolates.

You hated days like today. All three of your partners were out and busy while you were at home with nothing to do.

Natasha and Wanda had left at the crack of dawn, so you hadn't seen them since the night before, and Pepper had left at seven before breakfast.

It was only noon, and the day was dragging, so you decided to busy yourself with tedious household chores.

Laundry was next up on your list. The four of you usually sent all your clothing out for laundering, but you needed something to do.

You had just overloaded a tall basket and were making your way down the stairs when it happened. A shirt fell out from the basket at the wrong time, and you stepped on it.

The basket flew from your hands as you slipped down the long flight of stairs. You were out before you hit the bottom of the staircase.

Non-reader POV

"One of us needs to inform Steve the war ended. He doesn't need to be drill Sargent anymore." Wanda muttered, drying off her hair.

"I get where he's coming from, we do need to be a team, but I agree with you," Natasha said, packing up her duffle.

Steve had demanded everyone arrive at the compound at dawn for training exercises. He'd spent the next seven hours forcing everyone into team, partner, and solo training simulations until everyone was feeling the hurt.

"I can't wait to go back to bed." Wanda sighed. "Maybe we can coerce Y/N to join us."

"That does sound nice." Natasha smiled. Natasha was pulling her hair into a ponytail when her phone rang shrilly. "Go for Romanoff."

"Agent Romanoff." Cho greeted. "I'm required to inform you that Y/N is in an infirmary bed. Again."

"What happened?" Natasha asked, gaining Wanda's attention.

"Y/N had a fall and has broken her leg," Cho informed Natasha. "It's a minor fracture, the bone didn't pierce the skin, but she will be in a cast for at least six weeks. And I'd like to keep her here overnight."

"Have you called Pepper yet?"

"No, I haven't been able to reach Miss Potts. My call went to voicemail."

"Wanda and I will be right there," Natasha said before hanging up. "Y/N broke her leg. Call Pepper let her know it's a code pink."

Reader POV

"Hi there, got yourself into a bit of a mess have we, sweetheart?" Wanda asked as she entered with Natasha on her heels.

"Please save the mocking until my next dose of pain blockers." You begged, leaning against your pillow.

"No-one is going to mock you," Wanda said as she and Natasha took seats beside you.

"Yet. No-one is going to mock you yet." Natasha smirked. "Because if it were anyone else, this is kinda funny."

"I hate this." You groaned. "Cho said I can't even go home tonight. Last time I ever try to do the laundry."

"It was a sweet thought, dorogoy," Natasha said, taking your hand. "But from now on, let's just send laundry out."

"Jesus Christ, I'm going to kill one of you these days," Pepper said as she rushed in. "Are you okay?" She asked, pulling you into a hug.

"I'm fine, Pep. A little bruised, a little broken, but I'm fine." You assured her.

"We can all see your leg, Y/N," Wanda said, tapping on the cast. "Cho says you're gonna be in it for six-eight weeks."

"Which means bed rest," Natasha told you.

"Lots and lots of bed rest." Pepper agreed.

"When she wakes up, she'll need to be on bed rest for at least a week," Cho explained, leading you, Natasha and Wanda forward. "That means no strenuous activity in the slightest. I don't even want her reaching for her tablet."

"No work. Got it." Wanda nodded.

"She can try walking a few steps every day to avoid pneumonia. No baths for two weeks, showers are okay, but she has to pat the area dry. Now, full recovery after a surgery like this is about four weeks, but Pepper's a fighter, so it could be three."

"Is there anything else we should know?" You asked as you all entered Pepper's room.

"I think I've covered all the bases. When Pepper wakes up, make sure she drinks some water, and then FRIDAY will call me down to check her over." Cho told you before leaving you all alone with Pepper.

"God, she talks about us giving her grey hairs, I think I just lost a decade off my life span." Natasha sighed, collapsing heavily onto a chair.

"I'm waiting for my heart attack to kick in." You agreed, sitting on the arm of Natasha's chair.

Earlier that day, Pepper's appendix had burst. The four of you had been having breakfast when it exploded, and Pepper collapsed to the ground in pain.

Natasha had called Bruce and Cho while you and Wanda set about trying to help Pepper. Before you could actually process what was happening around you, Pepper had been whisked away to the med bay, and the three of you were in the waiting bay.

"She's going to feel like shit when she wakes up," Wanda commented, putting another pillow behind the woman's head.

"That is an understatement." Natasha snorted. "Thank God Cho's got her hooked up to the good stuff."

You, Wanda, and Natasha sat in Pepper's room, quietly talking, for three hours before Pepper began waking up.

"Hi, hon." You smiled, taking one of her hands. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” She groaned, turning her head towards you. “Have I ever mentioned how much I hate being in the medical bay?”

“Don’t think you have, sweetheart.” Wanda smiled.

“Well I hate it.” Pepper said firmly. “No more, we’re all banned from being in here from now on.”

“You’re really out of it, aren’t you, kisa?” Natasha asked, pushing hair off her face.

“I love you though. I love all of you.” Pepper added, as though she hadn’t heard Natasha. “Even if you all give me grey hairs.”

“We love you too, Pep.” You told her, pressing a kiss to her hairline. “Despite you just giving us a heart attack.”

The four of you spent more time in the med bay than any of you wanted, it was almost a second home, but there was one good thing that came out of your time in the infirmary. The four of you all got to work on your bedside manner.

Taglist

@rvgrsbrns @smilexcaptainx @hopingforbarnes @starlingelliot @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @jelly-fishy-babie @skeletoresinthebasement @agent-barnes40 @reann-loves-sebstan @skadikh @summergeezburr @buckybarton03 @sunshinepower17 @bindythedemon @natasharomanoffismywife @keenmarvellover @alissaginger @storiesbystarlight @buckybarnesplumwhore

Natasha Romanoff Taglist

@natasha-danvers @5aftermidnight @ohfuckno

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@imnotasuperhero

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goose-books · 4 years

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darklingverse & magic

as promised! a look at the magical system in my speculative fiction loose-retelling-of-king-lear WIP, which you can find out more about here and here! this is a terribly, terribly long post, so i’m sticking most of it under a cut, but i can guarantee there are at least a few fun diagrams in there. (all character images used are from this picrew by cinnasmores!)

shoutout to waya @harehearts for helping me work out some of the kinks in this by asking incredibly helpful questions... waya i will untag you if you want i just wanted to appreciate your contribution. also going to tag @suits-of-woe because you mentioned wanting to see this!

Jasper’s dad talks about it like oil. Petroleum has to be refined before you can put it in your car. Unrefined, it’ll just as soon kill you as anything else. The natural clock ticks. A mage hits twelve, or thirteen, or fourteen. And then it’s roaring under their skin, like an electric volt, like a fever, burning in them, fighting tooth and nail to get out.

It always gets out. You pick the route. Or you don’t.

The first thing Vee ever learned was duplication. Small objects only. Jasper was crawling through stacks of post-it notes for weeks. It was like an illness: Vee would get too itchy, his magic nipping at his neck, and he’d clench his fists and then they’d have another goddamn stack of stickies. “He has to get it out somehow,” Dad had admonished Jasper, when he’d complained. “Otherwise it’ll hurt him. I do it, too. The difference is I’m useful.” And he had demonstrated by snapping his fingers and cleaning all the house’s dishes at once.

Jasper is loath to give his father props for anything. But he was, on that particular occasion, right. Within a year Vee could flick his hands and shut windows, heat leftovers, unlock doors, send laundry skittering across the floor into the hamper.

It makes sense; Vee’s an infuriatingly quick study, magically and academically. And he inherited their dad’s style of magic. Easygoing. Quiet. Unobtrusive. Less explosive, more creative. Nowadays the worst that happens when he gets hot under the collar is that he spawns another houseplant and Jasper has to brush the leaves off the kitchen table.

Because Vee followed Dad’s instructions. He annotated all of his textbooks. He mastered it early, by seventeen, because of-fucking-course he did, but he was already in control by fifteen. Everyone learns to control their magic eventually.

Most people do eventually.

— darkling, segment iv: control

okay so let’s get into this!!!

isn’t darkling a modern king lear retelling? what do you mean, “the magic system?”

great question! darkling is, in fact, a modern king lear retelling (well, very loosely; it’s my city now and i reserve the right to do what i want). it takes place entirely in and around a city called dovermorry, an extremely isolated place secluded in the mountains, surrounded by wilderness for hundreds of miles, and only reachable via a single train through the mountains. dovermorry is loosely in the american northwest, sort of, i guess. by which i mean that’s kind of where i’m picturing it, but also it’s incredibly vague and honestly i don’t really know. dovermorry is, like, you know… [gesturing] it’s around. [kicking any kind of definable map under the rug]

the plot is set in the modern day with modern technology. the magic that exists is woven into daily life alongside said modern technology, which is the primary reason i’m calling darkling speculative fiction. most people in darklingverse aren’t actually heavily affected by magic (for reasons i’ll get into but which basically boil down to “they don’t have much”); however, dovermorry as a city is mostly known for being The Place Where Mages Go. most of the families in the city have been there for a long time; they’re old money families with powerful magic who use their inheritances to study increasingly esoteric forms of magic that aren’t very helpful in praxis. this is because dovermorry is home to the large and powerful Mage’s Guild, which is in charge of setting the laws around what kind of magic can be practiced in the city and by who. if you want to study magic at a scholarly level, you’d better pay your dues to the guild, otherwise you’re gonna get the boot.

every large city has a guild, but dovermorry’s in specific is Really Big and, unusually, has more political power than the actual mayor / government of the city. partially because leovald stayer, the guild’s president, is just… ughghhebwfbefbdsbfbdsfsd. That Way. in dovermorry if you’re not getting the boot you’re licking it

“wait, slow down. what is a mage anyway?”

well, technically, anyone! everyone in darklingverse has at least a little bit of natural magic (though it might be very little) that develops during puberty/adolescence! so by its literal definition, A Person Who Does Magic, everyone is a mage. that said, in colloquial terms, the word mage has taken on a connotation that basically means… exactly the kind of people who live in dovermorry. like i just said: scholarly, probably rich, probably a little elitist. so your average working-class person is TECHNICALLY a mage, but if you asked they’d say something like, “oh, mages are those hoity-toity folks who join guilds and stuff, WE’RE just regular folks over here.”

“you keep saying magic. what are you talking about. magic is a word that means so many things”

don’t worry, in darkling it just means [gestures vaguely]. re: everyone has magic, it develops in puberty, and there aren’t really specifications - it isn’t like some folks get fire magic and others get shapeshifting magic or etc. it’s more like everyone has a certain amount of raw energy inside them that can be drawn out and funneled into different tasks/spells. some ground rules:

1. you can’t change the amount of magic you have. your magic develops naturally, and maybe you get a lot of raw energy, or maybe you only get a little, but that’s what you’re stuck with and no amount of practicing is gonna give you more.

2. that said, magic is hard to control when it first develops - and practicing WILL help you get better at controlling it. so while you’ll always have the same base amount, you’ll get faster and more efficient about concentrating it into tasks.

3. re: amount of raw energy: that shit isn’t limitless. whether you have a lot or a little, it will eventually run out and you’ll have to wait for your juice to recharge. like a battery. you are a battery. how long this recharge period takes depends on how much magic you have, how fast you used it all up (if you push your limits to do something Really Big, you’re gonna be wiped), and also just how you’re doing physically in general? if you use up all of your magic in one go and you haven’t slept in a while, you might want to, like, sit down. drink a juice box. take a nap

4. while magic isn’t limitless, you can’t just NOT use it, either. when you aren’t using your magic, that raw magical energy builds up in you. and builds up. and builds up. and it does not particularly want to be in you. it wants to be out in the world, actually, and by god your fragile human meatsack is not going to stop it. so if you don’t choose a task to funnel your magical energy into (eg, i use my built-up energy to send my socks scuttling across the floor of their own accord to get into the laundry basket), that energy will eventually decide to just come out on its own. more on this later.

5. like i said, the mage’s guild of any particular city sets the rules, but there’s generally one core rule and that’s “don’t do necromancy.” like, obviously you’re not allowed to kill someone magically, but you’re also not allowed to kill someone NONMAGICALLY, so that’s kind of a given? but necromancy is something only a few very powerful mages can do and it is a BIG no-no. don’t fuck around with death, man. people don’t come back right, but also, just, like, let them rest, all right? let the dead rest.

[image description: the “society if X” meme, showing a futuristic “ideal” society full of green landscapes, smooth silver buildings, and flying cars. the text on the top reads “society if no one did necromancy.” the text on the bottom reads “this post made by the official mage’s guild don’t do necromancy you freaks bottom text.” in the corner you can see the imgflip.com watermark that i could have erased were i less lazy.]

“so what CAN you do with magic?”

the average joe? not much. again, there aren’t specific categories of magic; there aren’t any ATLA-style bending divisions. if you and i have the same raw amount of energy, there’s no reason we can’t both learn the same spells.

that said, the average person doesn’t have a lot of magic! it is much less dramatic than i’ve made it sound. there are not big magical firefights happening marvel-movie-style on every city street. if you want to talk to your friend, you use your iphone, not some kind of distance-speaking spell (which would be hard to maintain anyway and oh my god the phone lines are right there). the average person, on a daily basis, will use their small amounts of magic to heat their coffee up, or to wipe up a mess or spill, or to clean their floor re: the socks i mentioned earlier. (while writing this post, i had to begrudgingly admit that the socks were not going to scuttle anywhere, and i was forced to pick them up with my hands, manually. tragic, i know.)

again. dovermorry is the exception to this rule. most of the people in dovermorry have a little too much money and a little too much magic and not nearly enough chill. but dovermorry has also been festering like a petri dish alone up in the mountains for decades so what can you do.

“hold on, are you telling me that people in darklingverse didn’t immediately start wielding innate magic quantities as a tool of classism? sounds fake”

regretfully i cannot retcon classism out of darklingverse as it is relevant to the plot. this is because the plot is “Incredible: This Rich White Guy Has Never Been Told No And Doesn’t Know How To Handle It Without Crytyping!”

[image description: a picrew of leovald stayer, a pale-skinned man with short blond hair and an angry-looking frown, plus tears that i drew onto him with the paint tool in paint.net. beside his head is red crytyping text reading “ii’mm sso; so..rryy i didn’t[ mme a nit wwhy . are yu,,o suiiicdee .bai,,it,ing MMe gr;;acen im yuour da[d,,,”]

the general implicit belief across the country, but especially in highly stratified cities like dovermorry, is that upper-class people from distinguished noble families are just naturally born with more magic, and lower-class people are born with progressively less as we trip down the social ladder. is this kind of true, demographically? yeah but everyone’s got their cause-and-effect turned around. class doesn’t dictate natural magic so much as natural magic dictates class. the people on top like to be on top. and having jacked-up magic is a nice way to stay on top. so rip to the rich kids born with piddly little amounts of raw magic, because your family probably is not going to help you get places. and rip to everyone else born with piddly little amounts of magic, too, because unless you’re REALLY good at something nonmagical, you probably are not going to Strike It Big because those in power are gonna keep you down. and if you DO make it to the top you’ll be viewed as an exception that proves the rule.

there is some magic that is genuinely naturally harder to work with. the upper classes are personally really invested in making sure that kind of magic is painted as rough and lower-class. this is because it is threatening to them! and they do not want to be threatened. unless, of course, it’s them with the hard-to-handle magic. and then they’re fine with it.

“but didn’t you say everyone’s magic is basically the same?”

everyone’s magic can be wielded to do basically the same things. you can’t control how much flows through you. you CAN control where/how it gets out. and everyone’s pathways for how to let it out are basically the same (see the examples i mentioned above!). but some magic is a lot easier to control than other magic.

you can’t just not use magic, because if you don’t use it, it will use itself. it will Do Shit On Its Own. and that’s where this gets sticky.

so let’s get into that.

active vs. passive magic

now with fun diagrams!

[image description: a rainbow spectrum stretching from blue to red. the leftmost end (blue) is labeled “’passive’ magic” and “way down here you can mostly do fun party tricks.” the rightmost end (red) is labeled “’active’ magic” and “way down here you’re officially a ‘witch’ lol.”]

when i say active vs. passive magic, i should specify that this is not a strict binary! i’m about to use the terms in a sort of binary way to simplify this post down, but magic exists on a spectrum.* generally the less raw magic energy you have, the more “passive” your magic will be, but that’s not a hard and fast rule! characters vee and rory, for example, both have comparatively passive magic; however, rory’s is smaller and generally good for party tricks, illusions, and sleight of hand, while vee has more magic that he finds is really good for things like Growing Plants Really Fast and Making The Plants Do What You Want.

*i know this looks like some kind of metaphor for gender but i swear it’s not. you can trans your gender no matter WHAT your magic looks like i promise <3

i mentioned that if it builds up for too long unused, magic will Do Shit On Its Own. with passive magic, the Shit It Does is, like, accidentally growing a plant where plants shouldn’t grow, or changing your hair color when you aren’t looking. slow seeping magic that just kind of oozes out of you until you notice, “wait, shit, my hair didn’t used to be blue.” with active magic, if you don’t control it, it will Break Shit and it will not be nice about it.

active magic is - if we simplify both the magic binary and human genetics until they’re really really blurry - the dominant trait. if you made a middle school biology punnet square, active magic would be the dominant allele and passive the recessive allele. (i haven’t taken a bio class in two years no one get my ass for this analogy.) the child’s magic will take after whichever parent has more active magic. so, to illustrate that, let’s look at a normal family with a normal non-scandalous family tree. by which of course i mean the greenwoods. [canned laugh track playing in the studio]

here are ara, griffin, and medea (parents) charted by how active their magic is:

[image description: the same spectrum, now featuring three picrews of characters. ara, a dark-skinned woman with wavy black hair, freckles, and glasses, is placed leftmost, closest to the blue/passive end. griffin, a dark-skinned man with short black hair and glasses, is placed near the middle of the spectrum, slightly to the left. medea, a pale-skinned woman with spiky white hair, freckles, and gold hoop earrings, is placed rightmost, at the very edge of the red/active end.]

...and here’s how that went for them, progeny-wise:

[image description: a little family tree. ara and griffin’s child, vee, a dark-skinned person with wavy black hair, a worried look, and band-aids on his face, is labeled “quiet unobtrusive plant-based magic” in green text. medea and griffin’s child, jasper, a lighter-skinned person with spiky brown hair and freckles, is labeled “once accidentally shattered 50 champagne glasses at his dad’s birthday party” in red text.]

(yes, i know i said there aren’t any ATLA-esque magical divisions; that’s still true; vee just happens to get on really, really well with plants. much like jasper gets on really really well with entropy and causing problems on purpose.)

so the thing about “active” magic is that it’s usually more powerful, but if it’s too powerful it gets incredibly destructive. like i said earlier - if you’re part of the upper class, it shakes out fine; otherwise not so much. your choices with this kind of dangerous magic are to either fight it and keep it tamped down, or to lean completely into it and embrace your massive amounts of dangerous power. if you are rich, you can do that second thing! that’s what leovald stayer does, and he’s the president of the mage’s guild! good for him! [i say, through gritted teeth.] but if you aren’t rich, you had better try to keep that shit on lockdown, unless you want to be branded a reckless uncultured social deviant and - in most cases - a witch.

mages vs. witches

everyone with magic is a mage. only a few mages are witches. it’s like squares and rectangles, you know? you can hear gracen talk about that here in nice prose (plus baby cressida!), but the bottom line is that “witch” is shorthand for “woman* who has magic so powerful it’s unsafe, who uses it to break shit and be reckless,” and anyone with the “wrong” type of magic who doesn’t have a trust fund to back them up is getting tarred with that brush. they’re nothing like those elegant learned mages casting down benevolent laws from their ivory towers, you see.

*this isn’t a gender specific thing but usually women are the ones who get called witches because Women Should Know How To Control Themselves But Men Are Just Like That. god we love misogyny <3

tl;dr: misogyny and classism real. if you have hard-to-control magic that breaks shit then you’re destined to be a pariah UNLESS of course you’re rich and powerful and then it’s COOL that if you got too out-of-control you could collapse a building or cause a monumental storm or something. you know. cool.

[image description: the same magic spectrum. medea is still there, placed exactly where she was before. leovald’s face is also there, right above hers; in terms of magic, they are equally placed on the spectrum. leovald is labeled “runs the whole city” and medea is labeled “lives in a cave in the woods,” both in white text. there are three thinking emojis at the very top of the image.]

funny how these things work out.

in conclusion

in conclusion, if you’ve read all of this, you’re braver than the marines and have my undying love. if you’re down here for a tl;dr: magic is a natural force everyone is born with; some magic is comparatively harder to control; classism & other social structures affect the way a person’s magic is viewed (there are a lot of double standards); i really enjoy making little oc diagrams.

if you have questions, comments, etc, about this post or darkling in general, my ask box is always open! thank you for reading! [blowing you a kiss]

#i dream of hitting leovald stayer with rocks <3 #anyway this is terribly long but i had a friend scan through it and they said it was comprehensive and helpful so!#oh also i hope the image descriptions work i should start doing those... if anyone has concrit on that come shout into my inbox #this post could also be called 'reasons why jasper acts like a neurotic prey animal all the time'#though i did try not to delve into specific characters unless i was using them as examples. this here crash course doesn't need 2 get longer #max.txt #darkling tag #leovald stayer #ara greenwood #griffin greenwood #medea the witch #vee greenwood #jasper greenwood

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chibinightowl · 6 years

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Bakery AU, Part IV

This is also on my Ao3 now as Sweet Treats, but that’s still a chapter behind.

Part I, Part II, Part III

~*~*~

Jason doesn’t call on Saturday. Tim isn’t surprised, not with the news headline he saw the night before about Scarecrow on the loose. He does what any normal Gothamite does and goes about his business. Most of the time, the spooks only come out to play at night, so it doesn’t bother him any. Tim can’t help but wonder if the Bats had a chance to celebrate Damian’s birthday in the midst of all the chaos; he feels kind of bad for the kid.

He doesn’t hear from Jason on Sunday either. When he gets home, Tim collapses on his sofa and checks his phone again for any updates. There hasn’t been any news about collateral damage or deaths, so he can only assume everyone is okay.

Is this what it’s like for all those who care about one of Gotham’s heroes? Not just in a general sense but a literal one? He knows who they are under those masks and now he has a personal connection to them. The danger they all face on a nightly basis hits home. If something were to happen to Jason, the only way Tim will find out is via the news. He’s not anybody to the Waynes.

He’s barely somebody to Jason.

It’s a sobering thought, one that sticks with Tim through the night. By morning, he’s cranky from lack of sleep and attacks his coffee with gusto. There’s still nothing from Jason and Tim doesn’t want to risk sending him a text for fear of accidently waking him up from some well-deserved sleep. He goes about his normal Monday routine and does laundry, grocery shopping, and house cleaning. Not that there’s much to clean as he spends more time at the bakery than he does here, but whatever. He even changes his bedsheets, telling himself firmly it’s because they need to be washed and not because he’s expecting company in the near future.

Whenever that will be.

As Tim eats dinner, a news alert pops up on his phone to inform him that the Scarecrow is back in custody. A knot of tension he didn’t even realize was there relaxes. There’s no news about who was involved in his arrest, but he wants to believe that no one has been injured. It’s not like he can call and ask.

Worrying is exhausting so Tim decides to try and get some sleep. As he lays down, his phone chimes. Picking it up, a flood of relief washes through him.

It’s Jason.

Hey. I’m so sorry about not getting back to you sooner. It’s been a shitstorm of drama around here the last few days.

Tim appreciates a text from someone who uses full sentences. He appreciates even more the fact that Jason is letting him know in a backdoor kind of way that he’s okay.

It happens. Everything okay?

Yeah. Finally. Damian liked his cake.

Good, I’m glad.

There didn’t seem to be much more to say, so Tim set his phone down. He’s on the cusp of entering dreamland when it chimes softly again.

When can I see you again?

The message flashes on the screen but Tim is already asleep.

~*~*~

The next morning, Tim is up early and at the bakery to accept his weekly supply order. These are all his standard ingredients, but he’s got extra chocolate and cocoa powder in this one, plus peppermint extract as he’ll be starting his Christmas cupcakes this week. He’s also got a couple bottles of bourbon and rum to experiment with because he wants to try an eggnog cupcake this year.

Everything has been put away when there’s a loud knock on his front door. Tim glances at his watch. It’s way too early to be open. He pokes his head out of the kitchen to see who’s there.

It’s another deliveryman.

Tim crosses the room and unlocks the door. “Good morning.”

“Mornin’!” the man replies cheerily. “You Tim Drake?”

“Yes, unless I’m getting a bill for something,” he jokes.

The deliveryman laughs. “It doesn’t look like it,” he replies. “I just need a signature.”

Tim signs for the package and brings it inside, pausing long enough to lock the door again behind him.

What is this? He eyes the label carefully (this is Gotham after all and the Scarecrow had been loose this last weekend even though it’s usually the Joker’s MO to send random packages). The return address is somewhere in Bristol. Not exactly a zip code known for trouble.

Opening the box, Tim gapes. It’s a fruit basket of sorts. Specifically, a box full of some beautiful Bosc pears. The gears spin as he tries to figure out what to do with them. He did get that rum after all…

He almost misses the note that falls out. Picking it up, Tim starts laughing.

I know, I know. A fruit basket is lame, but Alfie said a chef like you would appreciate this more than flowers. Please, don’t be mad at me.

Tim takes the pears back to the kitchen and pulls out his phone. Only then does he see the message he missed last night. It all makes sense now. He sends a message to Jason.

I didn’t see your last message until just now. I’m rarely awake past nine since I’m at the bakery by five most mornings. The pears are gorgeous, thank you! You really didn’t have to.

It is too early to expect a response, but he figures Jason deserves to wake up to one after he apparently dropped the ball last night.

He doesn’t receive a reply until after Stephanie arrives a few hours later and has laughed herself silly over the box.

You never answered my question.

Tim bites his lip as he’s really not sure how to respond.

Steph flicks his ear. “You’re thinking too hard about this. It’s sex. You want it with him and he wants it with you. Just go for it.”

“Yeah, but…”

The door chime rings out as a customer enters the shop. “Dammit,” Stephanie swears since she’s on counter duty at the moment. “Hold that thought so I can knock it out of your head.”

While his friend takes care of the customers out front, Tim ponders what she’d said. It is just sex. He’s overanalyzing it. A fruit box means nothing, other than the fact Jason thinks he screwed up. And they’re really nice pears…

Stephanie wordlessly enters the kitchen and closes the door firmly behind her, her eyes a little wild.

“What?” Tim asks, setting down a pear.

“Tim, you’ve got some clients. Some rather VIP clients.”

He doesn’t miss the emphasis. “Who?”

She sucks in a deep breath. “I don’t know who the guy in the wheelchair is, but I know what Bruce Wayne looks like.”

Tim grips the edge of the steel prep table tightly. Bruce Wayne. Holy hell, Batman is in his shop. His inner fanboy doesn’t know whether to scream for joy or hide in terror. “Fuck.”

Steph nods, her eyes still wide. “The man in the wheelchair asked for you by name. He’s got a British accent and seems to be the one in charge.”

“And Mr. Wayne?”

“Gaping at the display case.”

Tim remembers Brucie Wayne from the few society parties he attended before his parents died. He always wondered why such man hid behind such a vapid persona, but it eventually occurred to him that it’s really the perfect disguise. Who in their right minds would associate the airheaded Bruce Wayne with the cunning detective Batman?

“Right.” Tim draws a deep breath, steeling himself. “Okay, I can do this.”

“Think it’s more business?” Stephanie asks while Tim takes the time to wash his hands. He’s not about to meet Batman with frosting stained fingers like he had Redwing.

“I can’t think of any reason why it wouldn’t be. Unless Jason has been talking about…you know.”

Steph snorts and tries to hide it behind her hand, which only makes her do it again. “Yeah, I doubt it. Not exactly a conversation someone has with their family. Hey, you know this amazing cake I got? I blew the baker!”

Tim doubles over at the sink laughing. “Shhh! They’ll hear you!”

No, he really doesn’t want Batman to know his son got in his pants. Or that he has plans to fuck him silly sometime soon. Shit, who is he kidding? This is Batman. He probably already knows. Tim can feel the heat on the back of his neck and can only hope it’s not on his face.

Steeling himself, he takes a deep breath and walks out front, Steph’s giggles trailing after him.

The man in the wheelchair with the massive cast on one foot is Alfred Pennyworth. Tim remembers meeting him few times as a child. He’d sneak him lemon tarts after his mother said no more sweets. Bruce isn’t in sight, but when Tim comes around the counter, he spots him kneeling in front of his display case, eyes wide and incredibly vapid, the Brucie act on in full force.

Good lord, the man deserves an Oscar.

“Hello,” Tim says politely. “I’m Tim. My assistant said you wanted to speak with me?”

“I do indeed,” Alfred replies and holds out his hand. “It’s been a number of years since we’ve last spoken, Mr. Drake, but I’m –”

“Alfred Pennyworth, master of the lemon tarts,” Tim grins as he shakes the old man’s hand. “I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

“I always remember wide eyed little boys who wax poetic over my food rather than filling their cheeks and running off.” There’s a twinkle in Alfred’s eyes. “When Master Jason informed me of who he’d hired to make Master Damian’s birthday cake, I knew we were in good hands.”

Tim is floored. The old man’s words give him the impression that he’s had more than just the spiced chai cake he’d made for them. “Thank you,” he manages to get out. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“It was really good!” Bruce chimes in as he stands up fully. He towers over Tim and reaches out to shake his hand too, albeit with more enthusiasm than is really necessary. Tim tries not to stare or crumble to the floor because he’s shaking hands with Batman. His inner fanboy is screaming right now, deciding on equal parts terror and joy. “But that’s not why we’re here. Tell him, Alfie.”

Alfred’s expression sours slightly. “As you can see, Mr. Drake, I am laid up at the moment and my charges are insisting I take it easy for the duration of the holidays. While I am able to delegate much of my work in the kitchen to Master Jason and ensure everyone is fed properly, he is no pastry chef. It is that skillset I have need of.”

Tim narrows his eyes slightly. He’s not sure where this is going. “Are you looking to hire me for something, Mr. Pennyworth?”

“I am. In about two and half weeks, Master Bruce hosts the Wayne Foundation’s annual Winter Charity Gala at Wayne Manor. Normally, I, along with some assistance from Master Jason, prepare all the holiday treats for the children who come up from various shelters in the city. Due to my accident, I am unable to perform my duties.” Alfred’s gimlet eye is watching Tim intently. “After the success of Master Damian’s cake, I decided I would very much like to hire you for this event. I know it is short notice…”

Tim doesn’t hear much of what is said after that, such is his shock over what is being asked of him. He wants to say yes so badly, but he’s got his responsibilities here and orders are piling up for the holidays and...

“Mr. Drake?”

“Sorry, got lost in my head there for a second.” Tim shakes himself out of it. “Just trying to figure out the logistics of it. This is my busiest time of year and after next week, I won’t take a day off until after the New Year.”

“You’ll be well paid, if that’s a concern,” Bruce states. “What’s your price?”

Tim forces the brief scowl he let slip off his face and tries to go for something more neutral. “It’s not about the money, Mr. Wayne. It’s about the time. How large is this event?”

“About 250 children are brought to Wayne Manor,” Alfred replies. “Along with a parent or chaperone. Guests are made up of donors. A typical event is about 600 to 700 people.”

It’s hard not to gape. “And you do this every year on your own?”

“Many of the treats I serve freeze well, so I can make them in batches over the course of a few weeks. The rest is catered.”

Tim asks a few more questions, trying to gain a better understanding of what exactly he would be doing. Most caterers have months to prepare for something like this and here he is expected to pull several rabbits out of his hat in the space of a few weeks.

In the end, he knows he only has one answer to this business proposition. “Yes,” he tells Alfred. “I’ll do it.”

“Excellent, Mr. Drake. I look forward to working with you.” Alfred beams as he shakes Tim’s hand, sealing the deal.

“And I look forward to more cupcakes!” Bruce replies all too brightly. “I think I’d like a half dozen now. I picked one out for each of us!” He turns his attention back to the display case and starts pointing at different ones and rattling off the reasons why he thinks each cupcake is perfect for each of his children, plus himself and Alfred.

When they leave, Tim is utterly exhausted and a little taken aback by just how thorough the Brucie Wayne act is. It’s been well over a decade since he’s seen it and never once was it ever directly focused on him. He retreats to the kitchen and stomps into his tiny office where he collapses in his chair. Blindly, he reaches out and grabs his stress ball.

“Well?” Stephanie asks, trailing after him. “What did they want?”

“We’re catering the annual Wayne Foundation Winter Charity Gala at Wayne Manor in three weeks. About 700 people.”

“Son of a bitch. Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Well, crapnuggets.” Tim knows without even opening his eyes that his friend and assistant is stewing over things, just like he did. “We’re going to have to close the shop that week just to get everything prepped in time. Maybe I can take out the truck in the evening…”

“We’ll have full use of the industrial kitchen at Wayne Manor starting two days before. I have to send an ingredient list to Mr. Pennyworth by the end of the week to ensure everything we need is there.”

“Will Jason be there too?” There’s a teasing lilt to Steph’s voice that has Tim finally cracking open an eye.

“I have no idea. I don’t see why he would be. We’re just hired help.”

Steph laugh tells him exactly what she thinks about that. “Perhaps to the rest of them, but those industrial kitchens have walk-in coolers, right? I can just see Jason wandering in and dragging you into one for a private chat.”

Tim throws his stress ball at her.

~*~*~

Stephanie leaves to get an early lunch for them and Tim promptly closes the shop. He has too much to think about and interruptions from an occasional customer won’t help.

He starts going through his calendar and relaxes a little. There are not as many special cake orders as he originally thought. They’re almost all Yule logs too and are slated for pick up on Christmas Eve. Everything else is cupcakes, including one massive order of a hundred that’s for a large holiday party the week after the charity event.

Still, in the weeks leading up to Christmas, he knows he’ll be bombarded with random orders for a dozen or more of his holiday cupcakes, particularly if he introduces the eggnog one, which he started the test batter for already. If anything, having some booze around the bakery will help calm his nerves.

Or leave him drunk, which is a bad idea, lightweight that he is.

He picks up his notepad and starts sketching out designs and possible holiday-themed flavor profiles, ones geared for both kids and adults. The easiest thing to do is modify existing recipes, but he wants to make the decorations extra special to show off his skills. This may be a last minute change of plans for the Waynes, but if he manages to impress them (especially Alfred), he could get other jobs from them later on.

Perhaps a spun sugar cage over the top of the eggnog cupcake would look nice. The dark gold of the caramelized sugar would contrast nicely against the nutmeg and cinnamon flecked whipped cream frosting…

His phone rings. Idly, Tim swipes at the screen to answer it, not even looking to see who it is. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Jason’s deep voice greets him. “I thought it might be easier to call instead of wait for you to check your phone again.”

“Sorry. It’s been one of those mornings where I’m being constantly interrupted,” Tim replies somewhat sourly. “Do you know what your dad just did?”

Jason groans, frustration evident even through the phone. “That does not sound good.”

“I should say it was him and Mr. Pennyworth. They were here in the shop a little bit ago.”

“Oh, shit. Alfie did it, didn’t he? He sorta mentioned offhand about making you a job offer, but I didn’t think he’d go through with it.”

Tim leans back in his office chair. “Yep, he did. I’m now the official pastry chef for the upcoming charity gala at your house.”

“Son of a bitch.” Jason swears some more and then asks a very important question. “Am I being relegated to business again?”

A sharp laugh escapes Tim before he can stop it. “Maybe? I’m going to be very busy these next few weeks.”

Jason chuckles, an absolutely wonderful sound even over the phone. “All jokes aside, are you going to have enough time for everything?”

“I’m figuring that out right now. Making lists and deadlines for myself.”

“Can I help at all?” There’s a hopeful lilt to Jason’s voice.

“What?” Tim asks, blinking wildly.

“Help. I’m not exactly clueless in the kitchen. I help Alfie all the time. I may not be a trained chef like you, but I can follow a recipe and listen to instructions.”

It’s tempting. Very tempting. Even if he can just direct Jason on how to make some of his basic batters and get things in the oven, it would free up Steph to work on normal orders and give him the time to get fancy. “How fast can you get a food handler’s card?”

“I already have one. Still current too.”

“You’re hired. I pay dick compared to what you’re probably used to though.”

“You pay in dick? I accept.”

“Jason!”

#chibinightowl writes #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #JayTim #Bakery!AU

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myheadabovewater · 3 years

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I wish i had a better way to deal with the way i react to being treated badly. I wish i could just say, "fuck it, fuck them, idc", but it all gets to me. Like today, i wake up, i text him to bring up my meds (ive explained before that he hides my meds so he has to get them for me. So i have to ASK for my medications), he never answers, and i kind of fall back asleep on and off for an hour and a half. I text him again. Hes finally up i guess and answers he will be there soon. Half hour later i text again, and he brings it to me.

On friday our kid got 100 on his math test. We have been promising him a tv for his room, and he decided that would be his reward. I had been asking him for help with putting the plastic mattress protector on because it slips right off every night. Hes put me off about a week. So yesterday he says they will both help me clean Os room today (its a big mess cause ive been sick a couple weeks and ofc they dont clean it), so ok, when he gives me my meds i ask did him or her get anything fone in Os room yet. He ofc says no, hthey have been waiting for me. That makes no sense. Why? Its not a big room. 3 people arent gonna fit cleaning. They could have stripped the bed, or gathered laundry, or picked up trash, or even cleaned off and dusted the dresser the tv is going on.

I mean i knew they werent going to help at all. So after my monster, i went and started cleaning. I guess he heard me and came up. He put a shopping bag in the hallway, looked behind the dresser, i guess at the outlet, and left. I asked him to take some laundry with him. I already had it all in 2 baskets in the hallway. He did not. She didnt come up until he brought the tv up. They were messing around with the remote and tv so i left, and made myself some rice to eat, and asked them to take the laundry down when they were done. They went down right after. They actually took the laundry, but they still had not helped clean at all. So i went back in and kept straightening up. Then he goes out to get O from the bus so she comes up to record him coming in the room and seeing the tv. She literally sits on the bed on her phone as i clean around her, struggling to pick things up from the floor. Does not help clean up or even offer.

So he gets home, comes in, and is thrilled. So thats awesome. But im still pissed how the day went. I knew they were never gonna actually help so why am i even stressed?

On another note, ive got an ashwaganda supplement that also has zinc and D which is cool cause i have a D deficiency coming on Thursday, and i am hoping this will help with a few issues.

#dv journal #dv #narcissist #psychopath #surviving narcissism #mental health #mental illness #gaslighting #abuser tw #tw gaslighting #trigger warning

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spidergvven · 7 years

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tips for dealing with depression and suicidal ideation

given todays news i thought some people might need this, all of it is based of my personal experience w depression and mental illness so here goes:

things that are easy for everyone else will be insurmountable obstacles for you, people will definitely make you feel bad for this whether they intend to or not, look in a mirror and say “fuck them!” say it again, yell it as loud as you can, FUCK THEM!

you probably haven’t showered in a week and thats ok, baby wipes and dry shampoo are your friend

feeling grimy and gross will make you more depressed though, if you can get up and brush your teeth and splash water on your face you will feel better if only because you accomplished something (if you feel like brushing your teeth isn’t an accomplishment go back to tip one, it is and you are doing great!)

take care of what you can when you can, remind yourself to not feel bad for not doing what you cant today

your room/apartment/house is probably a mess, thats ok. don’t try to clean up everything at once, you will not be able to do it and you will get more depressed when you don’t succeed. clean up one (1) thing and i truly do mean one, put a dirty item of clothing where your dirty laundry goes (not a pile on the floor, get a hamper/basket/cardboard box anything that will help your brain file it as organized instead of clutter) put one cup from your room in the dishwasher. the magic of this is once you do one thing you start to feel a sense of accomplishment and the bigger tasks don’t seem as scary, before you know it all the dishes are clean or you’ve done all the laundry.

reward yourself for doing the hard stuff, even if thats just getting through another day. you do not have to suffer a certain amount before you deserve nice things that make you feel good.

get some vitamins. depression destroys whatever healthy eating habits you may have had and honestly no one is getting enough vitamins these days anyways. vitamin b and d deficiency can contribute to fatigue, chronic pain and depression. 15 minutes in the sun gets you your daily dose of vitamin d, so get a sun lamp or just sit outside once a day, you don’t have to do anything, except maybe drink some water since its july. vitamin b supplements are pretty cheap, they taste like candy and give you an immediate energy boost. a multivitamin w iron will help your body get the nutrients it needs and give you more energy as well. no vitamins wont cure mental illnesses but when your body feels physically like crap along with your mind it makes everything that much worse.

exercise if you can. the catch 22 of depression is that everything that will make you feel better is almost impossible to do when you’re depressed. the reason exercise is always recommended though is because it does help release those happy little chemicals in your brain as well as helps you form a routine. which means anything that gets your heart rate up and that you can commit to doing on a regular/semi regular schedule counts as exercise. dont think you have to become a gym rat or someone who loves running to get this benefit. anything you can do to get your body moving is a good thing.

square breathing and mindfulness will reduce tension in your body and mind (it should be noted that if you are prone to dissociation traditional mindfulness can make that worse but you can also practice a modified mindfulness while doing a task to keep you present and in your body) for square breathing- sit up straight or lie on your back and breathe in through your nose to the count of four, hold for a count of four, breathe out through your mouth to a count of four, then hold for a count of four and repeat. if you cant do a four count three or two is also fine, the idea is simply that you are breathing in and out and holding for the same count. breathe as deeply as you can from your diaphragm, since so many of us spend so much time hunched over devices and computers you may need to use a back roller or a particularly firm pool noodle to open up your chest cavity and breathe properly. (this will also help your body not feel like crap because so many people have alignment issues without even realizing it, straightened out your spine and and tailbone can affect your brain patterns so much it’s almost unbelievable) its laughable when you’re supper depressed and people try to ask you “well have you tried meditation/yoga” but yoga breathing techniques and practicing being present and feeling your body and the sensations you are experiencing is actually helpful. theres a reason yoga is such a culturally important practice that has existed for centuries and its only now that western medicine is starting to recognize the science of treatments that have long been dismissed as homeopathic folk remedies. most of my physical therapy exercises now include yoga breathing and square breathing to retrain my body’s neuromuscular patterns and they always leave me feeling better emotionally too. how you breathe really does affect your brain waves.

being present in your body is hard but it helps, turn on a fan and lie in front of it, concentrating on how the air feels on your skin, the sound of the fan that you hear, your hair moving in the breeze, reconnect with your senses and surroundings. also you get the added benefit if lying in front of a fan when its hot as hell which is always nice.

dont feel bad for wanting to hurt yourself because it will only make you want to hurt yourself more

snap a rubber band against your skin or hold ice in your hand to simulate the feelings and relief of self harm without doing permanent damage buy cheap dishes from goodwill and smash them all to relieve the impulse to destroy without hurting yourself (dont do this if youll be tempted by the sharp edges of of the broken dishes) write everything you hate about yourself, your life, and the world down, then destroy it, rip it up or burn it and breathe. imagine letting it all go. you wont let it all go but it might feel a little lighter and thats good too.

make a list of reasons to stay alive, like not some philosophical big deep reasons for living, just shit you want to do. really love marvel and cant wait to see the movies they’re releasing next? thats a reason to live. cant go to the premiere of infinity war if you’re dead.

despite what some might say feeling suicidal absolutely can be triggered by other peoples actions. this doesnt mean other people are responsible for your mental health but you don’t deserve to be treated badly because your depressed and if you’re in an abusive environment you dont deserve how you’re being treated at all, you deserve to live happily and safely.

if none of these tips work for you it’s not your fault. you’re not broken. this is what ive found helps me but treatment and recovery look different for everyone and you’re not a failure bc a list of tips didn’t cure your depression. you are trying and thats what counts. please keep trying, try someone else’s tips, try therapy, try some shit that you just made up because it hurts no one and helps you even if it feels silly. just keep trying because you are worth it.

#depression #suicide #self care

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imoverit · 4 years

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I just don’t know. I know I say that a lot but I just really don’t. Like I’m a very highly intelligent person and I’m very good at solving problems. Making something after more efficient. Like I can go into a business and within a month or 2 just totally change that place. Like from products from intake of like a grocery store to the customers cars I can make it so an employee won’t have to handle it more than he needs too. Move this there. Change this try that and before you know it your pumping out a million guitars a year when before me was 50-100k.

And I HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE!!!!! I’ve gone over every scenario 1000 times each and then even started mixing scenarios together then adding new thoughts and Scientific physocology shit to it then adding reality shit to it then adding physically AND YES AND (as in more than 1,) practically IMPOSSIBLE FUCKING BULLSHIT to the mix and then before you know it I just wanna fucking blow my head off. Seriously. Honestly It’s too fucking much at times. But I’m not going too don’t worry. Ive injected myself several in fact dozens of times with a cocktail of drugs so powerful that DR Kovorkian coulda helped 7-8 people maybe more. I’d have to inject a whole morphine 200 just to get outta bed I’m the morning and I wasn’t even high yet. I had to mix large quantities. Half gram or more of dope at a time mixed with some pills to get high! Thank god I HONESTLY don’t miss that. I do however miss her. YOU. And I just don’t know what the hell is up. My woman the woman who she was before I met her would have no problem telling me what’s up with the last 3mths In person. She wouldn’t. Even if she fucking wanted my ass deader than a shit and she was fuCali nag pissed or even if she was hurt emotionally by something I did or said (before the blow up. That don’t count cuz she didn’t tell me the TRUTH!!! My WOMAN would sit me down tell me the TRUTH and then kick my fucking ass and kill me but SHE WOULD HAVE NO PROBLEM TELLING ME THE TRUTH...... IN PERSON. So some things up. I hear It her voice. It sounds painful whatever it is. And before I blew up when we was “good” and we’re still single but she writes the legit I love you msg and ONE DAY AT A TIME. Then over next couple weeks. I get honest love yous and miss yous and even when we talked on the phone that was my woman. If she was happy sad angry whatever that was my woman. Then even may 4th I think. Super flower moon day I heard it in her voice. The IM IN LOVE WITH YOU BUT I HAVE TO PUSH YOU AWAY self sabotage of a meaningful relationship cuz what I’m better off. Cuz it’s all minor stupid spiraled outta control bullshit and now resentments are forming. The kind that NEVER GO AWAY. And I don’t want that. But she won’t talk to me. At all. It’s out of character for MY WOMAN!! Like even if she wasn’t in love with me and I knew her I would be able to tell somethings up from her tone last night.

It was just pain full to hear. Like she still has something aching to get out and be said. I just don’t know if it’s good for me or bad for me. I feel it’s bad. I feel that she has marked me for life as one of her abusers. Somethings wrong that she won’t fucking tell me. Cuz that’s not my woman. That’s not the woman who I sat next to for 7 years. Yeah babe 7 years. Yeah babe I’m calling you babe cuz that will always be your name to me!! And I just feel like she feels ashamed and emabareassed for her actions when she is having a PTSD moment and most of the time she blacks out and don’t remember half the stuff that was said. And that scares me. So angry that you black out. I would never hurt her. NEVER EVER EVER WOULD I DO ANYTHING EVEN ROTELY CLOSE TO WHAT THEM MONSTERS HAVE DONE TO YOU!!!! Mean words yes I am fucking guilty. A phone or laundry basket thrown in your direction with no intent to harm you physically, yes I’m f ifking guiltynof that too I’m guilty. But I would never ever do anything worse than what’s already been done. (Fist hole In a cheap closet door, guilty) but I’d never and I KNOW YOU HONESTLY KNOW THAT. I SAVED YOU BABY. I WAS THERE FOR YOU WHEN YOU NEEDED ME THE MOST!!! Actions. Forget about other girls who I never was anything more than basic non sexual friends with. I said something nice about her hair. Well if I remember correctly that’s as during the time I me Patrick left but you BABE didn’t tell me before I walked out door that you were on the ledge of a bridge deciding if you wanted to jump or not. Which I’m so glad you didn’t but if you would of told me that day of 356 bridge NONE OF THIS WOULDA HAPPENED. Neither would of dec 28th and for that. I think you feel guilty and ashamed prolly disgusting(cuz I do for my actions so that’s why I said you prolly feel) scared and embarrassed for yourself and yur actions cuz that’s how I feel about myself. I’m mostly ashamed and embarrassed of myself but I feel angry the most and that’s why I can’t talk wirhour getting passionate”. Angry at myself. I’m not even made at you. I’m angry at myself. And then in turn get angry at you for something stupid and then it blows up into big time madness all cuz I’m ashamed of myself and I’m angry with myself. If I hadn’t snuck around and used drugs with chad. Which was only drugs never anything sexual with anybody!!!!! And you know what I feel the same way. I’m ashamed of myself. To the point I wanna die. I’m embarrassed and angry and I feel so disgusting and gross since you couldn’t even let me hold you when you cut your wrist. I tried to get you but you didn’t want me too touch you. So no didn’t. I’m so sorry baby. I shoulda took the chance of you calling cops on me for assault or something. But at same time I respect you so you said don’t touch I didn’t touch. When you tell me to not touch you for a year even after we got thru her not working correctly after surgery. Remember what I said. I’ll try everyday 100 times a day for years if needed until you can cum all over him or my face.

And I just know we don’t end like this. We don’t end like this. Your the most amazing woman I ever met. Beautiful. Your not beautiful. Beautiful don’t even come fucking close to describing who/what you are!!!! Brave. Strong super sexy wardawg who despite EVERTHING (everything you’ve said/done, I’ve said/done) despite EVERYTHING baby you STILL drive me wild like the first time we met each other. Your real true beauty makes my dick hard just thinking about you. Right now. He 😘🤪👃👅🖖👐(full body erotic message hands) your the strongest most courageous woman I’ve EVER MET like you didn’t even go I my o much detail about shit everytime you’d open up you got more beautiful. Then when you started telling me bout yur monster cousins you got more beautiful and you didn’t even go into detail of the events (like you actually should do to help HEAL. It works trust me KERR FAMILY. I carried a lot of shit after that. Loading a whole family that died together in a forerunner crash into the coroners van. 4 people. Mom. 3 kids 16-6 or 7 years old. And our relationship now. The current state were in right now just ripped my family away and I’m in need of my best friend my lover back!!! I really am. I just miss you so much. I’ll cry for an hour straight. Seriously. Sometimes 2 and then stop try to do something but WVERYTHING REMINDS ME OF YOU. I watched a video on donutboperator of a kid who was yelling at the cop to just kill him bro please. And I freaking cried like a baby all night. Ended up texting you and then you called and I got to hear your voice but then I hurt even more cuz you didn’t even sound like you. That wasn’t you. It just wasn’t you. Even if you hate me and actually never wanted to see me again m, you would sound like you. And you just didn’t. Remember on the phone. I got the text too to prove it. “Yur voice was different. Everything was different”. In a good way. She got tingly from what you said!! Yeah I bd isn’t hear that in you. Like even when we were together and we were Mia communicating and someone called or you had to deal with a person. You sounded like BABE. Even when we weee fighting on the phone BOTH getting mean and ignorant to each other. You still sounded like you. But last night. You didn’t. Even from the very first words of, what do you want?? It just didn’t sound like Ashley. If I was blind and you walked into the room and talked I wouldn’t of known who it was. Just please talk to me baby!!! We should be spending this beautiful summer watching stars here at dads or kennerdale. Yes kennerdale. I was waiting for better weather to go star gazing there with you and hold you tight then feb 2nd came and I thought for sure you was gonna come see me. At least once. And I won’t lie. You hurt me feelings with the whole weed issue april 22nd. Like you text before we even talked. Look at menu your only one who’s appreciate it then we started talking and I thought it was going good. If you were only talking to me my babe was back then somewhere around your script issue something noticeably changed. You began getting short with me. You wouldn’t text for a few days and I can almost pin point the exact like 2 week span. So please baby. If youve heard any thing that I’ve said here. And if you truly deep down inside feel any bit of the same way I do. Just please come talk to me. I’d like it to be without you having a BF so I can hug you. I just want a hug. I wasn’t able to that night or since or even before and I just my my woman back. Your world didn’t end the day I moved out!!! It just began. Use this lil vacation to get yourself right. Don’t worry about a relationship. And if yo u need the services of a man that’s what I’m here for. If we’re working on ourselves and each other with that promise to each other like I mentioned last year. Your strong independent woman who don’t need a man. So I don’t see why you jumped straight into a relationship while you still have/had at time may 4th, feelings for me. Cuz that wasn’t how somebody who don’t love a person no more, breaks up width.

You don’t basically tell me please don’t blow up and end it bad I’m case I wake up I’m a year well 2 to be “specific” and realize that it was ALWAYS me. The fact that you even said that was a red flag. Shoulda been a red flag to yurself that you were self sabatoging our relationship. I don’t care if you slept with 50 guys the last 3-4 mths. I bd not want details unless there is no chance of us getting back together EVER and then I need to know when you started talking to mike is it? Cuz if it was after our phone call March 24th then he’s a POS I know you talked about our relationship and I have a feeling he said one of those predator lines. He don’t deserve you. You are beautiful. But what you didn’t tell him is that you didn’t want me telling you you were beautiful cuz you thought I only said it cuz I was on drugs which wasn’t the case. It intensified the true feelings. And I just feel something like that happened and then that one day round April 13th is give or take a week something happened. Maybe a one night stand. Kool no problem but then guilt and shame and embarrassment comes into play and then you text me like you was trying to tell me something and then it don’t matter anyways. My life was over day you moved out shit down and then you ignored me so you didn’t have to tell me. I feel 2 ways bout it. Either it was one night stand and you felt emabareassed bout it which you shouldn’t. Your human or he did take advantage of a woman who’s a month out of a 7 year rocky relationship but r the he reason it was rocky is because both people were fighting for what they love/loved. Me/you as of now. And we just don’t end like this babe. We don’t. Are you ok with us ending like this??? I mean how we ever gonna be able to even try to become friends again if one of us has a significant other. It’s like mike and (I don’t have nobody but you so we’ll say Suzie) Mike and suzie gonna be ok with us going to hang out or going to concert or what?? Double dating??? I just can’t see ya ever talking to each other again unless we’re in a committed relationship to each other. I just don’t know. I need to jamb. I’m really missing you hard core right now. I feel like you actually did die cuz I’m never gonna see you again

Remember how I always say somethings in the woods here. I feel like a raptor or some shot is stalking so Last night I was jambin in drive way and I bent down BYU turn the mids up a lil but and when I bent back up there was a coyote running towards me from the flower bed closest to driveway I yelled AAHHHH and went to swing my guitar like a bat and it like turned in mid full sprint slid its nails across blacktop I could hear them sliding trying to grip traction and then he took off towards the Lane sign. I fucking had prolly a #50-60 pound coyote almost attack me. I just heard them down on the bank just behind the light line.

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