#and isolating and short staffed their jobs are.

[dykedvonte]

love seeing your takes on mouthwashing and how sane they are. everything's so black or white. I like how you acknowledge curlys abuse under jimmy (which I honestly didn't quite notice when I first watched a playthrough. should rewatch w this in mind) and how that very much doesn't "forgive" his inaction towards Anya and Her abuse under jimmy. I think what happens to him despite all his issues (bc he clearly wasn't OK 😊✌🏼) is very much karmic. I really did hurt huh

I hate the take that what happened to him is karmic as becoming disabled and being tortured is like not in any way an equal consequence for not taking more action against Jimmy. It is a consequence as is the whole game for everyone but it’s one that is very much established as being undeserved and extreme as everyone else’s but Jimmy’s fate.

Thank you for liking my takes but I also try to point out that this exact sort of framing of the events and what happened to Curly is bad especially if you are gonna factor in his own abuse into the equation of his inaction/ineffective acts. It’s like “saying yeah he deserved the abuse he was already going through to escalate because he didn’t do enough” which is like not a message the game tries to deliver at all. It’s like the game shows that abusers escalate

Karma and punishment are not concepts that I think should be directly tied to Curly’s fate especially since during the game and even in discussion he takes on too many consequences of someone else’s actions. Like this framing is the direct thing I describe taking the discussion away from Jimmy, P.E and the factors that created the environment in the first place.

[pomeloandtv]

Part of her wanted to cry. An older part of her, a once more dominant part of her, now shackled and bound, locked away in a safe, too small to be comfortable in, buried in the moors in an unmarked spot. Not gone. Not dead, yet. Still there. But with no influence. The faintest of whispers intertwined with the wind blowing in from the sea. Easy to ignore. She could only perceive it if she consciously turned her ear toward it and chose to perceive it. So she didn't cry. And she had no trouble in not crying.

She pressed send. Done. Well, at least she had told them, that was something. At least they wouldn't be surprised when she didn't clock in tomorrow. But no notice period. She was just walking out. After over 4 years. The sad thing, said the voice on the wind, one of the sad things, was that a year ago, maybe more than a year ago, her old boss would never have accepted her quitting without a fight. He'd want to keep her.

But no one was going to contact her now to get her to change her mind. At best, or worst, depending which part of her was doing the accounting, maybe they would contact her because they might be short-staffed tomorrow, maybe. But not because they believed she had a future at the company.

Her new boss didn't even realise who she was. What she had done. How much she knew. He just thought she was a legacy hire forced on him, someone that he should maybe think twice about disciplining without checking upstairs to make sure no one would get upset.

When had it started?

Three years ago, opening up to her new boyfriend? No, four years ago? Discovering that one aspect of her new role in the company? The aspect that did things to her?

No, earlier. Much earlier. Forever, even. Maybe this was the path she was always destined to walk, just requiring the right set of circumstances to divert her from the road she had originally planned. An aspect of her that once discovered could not be suppressed, and would only grow stronger.

She had gone to all girls schools, so it was only in college that she had started spending more regular time around men, and she discovered the strange sensation of being ignored "because" she was a girl, of being taken less seriously, of having things explained to her that she didn't need explaining, of being talked down to by a supposed peer.

Probably she was already like that before college, but with such infrequent time spent with men, she hadn't had the opportunity to observe the emergence of that pattern in her behaviour. So, in college she figured it out; "Oh, this does that to me? No! Why?"

Not every man treated her that way of course. She hadn't counted, but probably the great majority didn't. What she knew for sure was that some did. And she avoided those men, not out of worry for the extremely worrying way she reacted to that kind of treatment, but because she believed any woman should avoid men who treated women that way. So she learned this about herself back then, but learning it hadn't been important, hadn't required action, because avoiding the people responsible was already her behaviour.

When she dated, it was men who never had anything less than 100% respect for her. Because that was what she deserved anyway, not out of fear of exploring that sensation.

Majoring in the traditionally male-dominated domain of Computer Science might have been thought of as a threat multiplier, but it was still a university, one known in the popular culture as a particularly liberal one, and a large university, with enough people that she could avoid the people she wished to avoid without isolating herself.

Then her masters, then a job, designing the new product around the identified gap in the market, meeting with potential customers, triangulating their needs, contributing to the build, all the time trying to remind the other engineers specifically what it was that the product should do, who it was for, keeping them focused on the purpose of the product. What features customers wanted, what performance, and what was superfluous.

And then the product was ready and she had presented it to potential customers, helping them set up the trial version, troubleshooting the various local network issues, showing them how it worked, what they needed to do, writing the tutorials, the example templates. Some tasks that could have been handed off to someone more junior, but she had wanted to do it. Ensuring satisfaction. It was a rewarding part of the job.

And the product had been a success and the customer base was growing and the company needed to streamline customer service processes. She had submitted a proposal to her boss about what those processes should look like, and it had been accepted and she had directed its construction.

And then she had her pick of what roles she wanted with the new product, but she wanted to stay working with the customers, so she requested to remain with the customer support department she had helped build. So she could always have the full picture of how customers were using the product, what they needed from it, what was missing, and so she could influence future development, even if she was reducing her code contribution. Plus it was a work from home job, no more commuting!

Naturally, given her expertise with the product, she was in the top tier of customer support, Level 3, the person who was called when both the Level 1 and Level 2 agents couldn't succeed. Or the person that the biggest, most important clients had direct access too.

One of the many systems she had put in place was customer service agent key performance indicators, the KPIs. These were automatically generated and sent once a month to each agent, telling them how they performed in the last month, and how their performance compared to the mean of all other agents at their Level. At year end, there was another mail summarizing yearly performance. There were now too much agents at each of the three levels for people to be able to reverse engineer how other individual agents were doing from the mean values. They only had access to their own data, and how they were doing compared to everyone else.

And if the her from back then had known what this was going to do to her, she would have dismantled that system or quit or requested reassignment.

She would open her KPI mail at the start of the month and her mean of all KPIs, a single number summarizing everything was ... between good and very good? And usually closer to good. Never closer to very good. And nowhere near excellent. She was above the mean of all other agents, true, but not significantly above, not a standard deviation. Surely she should be top? Or at least one of the top, just hovering around very good? No? Why?

No one else had her experience with the product, had worked directly on the code base, knew exactly what they were digging around in. No one else had been at the company longer. No one else had seen more issues and could resolve those issues quicker. No one else could diagnose original issues as quickly and as accurately. She was the agent every other agent came to when they couldn't resolve something. This was her team. Everyone knew it, even the boss, who treated her as a first officer.

Something was wrong.

There were now too much customers that they would know her by name, or that she would know their representatives by name. Every interaction was a new interaction with a new person. No established relationships. She had declined to be a main point of contact for one of the big customers which would have allowed a relationship to develop. But it would require less time for other clients, less time surveying the overall landscape that the product existed in, which she wished to be master of. And also it would involve travel or commuting to the client office, if they demanded it.

So, most of her interactions with customers were anonymous, without the benefit of an established relationship. Could that be hurting her numbers? Well, maybe, but those agents with big clients and established relationships dealt with less issues, so some of their KPIs would be hurt by that. So, maybe that wasn't it? But what could it be?

And then one day while working on some improvements to the KPI system, she had seen the numbers for the other agents. She hadn't planned to do it, or she hadn't planned to do it for that reason. That is, she had accessed the database for a particular and legitimate reason related to the work she was doing. Not that particular, illegitimate reason. And some numbers caught her eye and she understood.

There were a dozen male agents at Level 3. She was one of only three female agents. On the screen, the numbers for the other two female agents had stood out. Hard not to miss. They were two of the worst performing agents, in purely KPI terms. But that's not right? They are good! Maybe not the best, but absolutely not the worst! They're both better than ... she scanned the screen ... him? How is he that much higher?

She knew some people expected less of women, or would not trust her expertise. Surely, that couldn't be it? Is the effect that pronounced? In this job where the very best thing to happen to a customer would be to have their email or call assigned to her, ensuring the speediest resolution? And she thought about previous times where customers had seemed unhappy or untrusting of her and re-evaluating those occasions now, ... was that it?

She felt funny. She went for lunch. She occupied her mind with other thoughts that day. But she would have to return to "the" thought at some point, at the latest, at the start of next month.

She experimented. The next few times she noticed a customer seem to be impatient or to be curt or to not be paying attention to what she was saying, she suggested if they would like her to "promote" their issue to a more "experienced" agent. A lie, there was nowhere to promote their issue to, she was the most experienced agent. But they always accepted and seemed relieved. And in these cases she always asked one of the male agents, always a different man, of different levels of competence, to take the issue. And she always told that man exactly what she believed the problem to be, but something else has come up, can you take this off my hands please? And later she would ask him how it went, and he would say, yes, easy, you were completely right about the problem, the customer was happy. Happy I could help.

And each time the experiment concluded, she felt funny. No, I don't like this.

And she told her boss what she had learned, that sometimes customers rejected help from female agents, and he said he knew, it was a recognised problem, one he hadn't been surprised to see here. But it was OK. He accounted for the effect in staff evaluations. He wasn't judging her just by the numbers. He wasn't judging any of the female staff just by the numbers. There were some things that the numbers hid.

And he showed her other patterns in her numbers that she hadn't noticed before, hadn't had the management theory to recognise, how when you went beyond the summary KPI number, you could see the particular KPIs she was most underperforming on were the ones which would be harmed if the customer wasn't giving the agent a fair chance. It was a recognised signal of sexism or racism or homophobia or transphobia. Not enough evidence that you could say any one customer was guilty of these things, because maybe that customer was having a bad day and that was going to be how they treated everyone that day, but enough evidence that you could say that within a society these effects existed.

And for the first time she had really felt it in her bones how sometimes she would have to work harder than a man just because she was a woman, not because she was incapable, but because others so firmly believed her to be incapable, that they would not give her the opportunity to disprove them. She felt funny again.

In college, these feelings never festered in her. She'd just avoid the person involved. But now, how could she avoid it? Quit her job? She loved her job! This job was the perfect job for her. She was uniquely experienced, qualified and talented for it. No, she would not go.

And the next month, the email came again. She opened it, and looked at her figures, lower than they should have been. She stared at them for a few minutes. No longer questioning why they were down there. Just thinking about the fact that they were down there. She closed her laptop and went outside for a walk. She came back, worked for an hour, then looked at the email again. She went to bed. For half an hour.

And the next month she did it again. And the next month she experimented with the vibrator she never used. And the next month she stayed at her desk touching herself as she looked at the email, and reread the email chain she had had with a particularly impatient customer. But it wasn't enough anymore, so she got the vibrator and used it at her desk, legs up on the table in front of her, either side of the screen, various work paraphernalia moved out of the way to give her space. Later a cup with pens got knocked over.

And the next month she touched herself as she compiled all of the monthly emails she had received so far into a local, lightweight timeseries database, and she built a dashboard with her various KPIs, and the team mean KPIs and with time-series graphs, and yes, the change hadn't been observable before, but she appeared to have been trending down.

Why? Was there an explanation. The effect of societal sexism should be a constant. Was there a reason her numbers might go down? She thought about it some more. When she first started working as an agent, some of the customers had still been known to her by name, or at least she was known to the customers staff by name. Now, none of her customer interactions were backed up by her reputation. She had become more anonymous, and the effect of a latent sexism that a man might have for a woman, a sexism that he might not even be aware of, had become more dominant. So she assumed.

**********************************************************

And while this had all been going on, she had been dating but suddenly she was wondering if her standards were too high, or too low, or just miscalibrated? She'd had boyfriends during this time and it had been good and fine, and with the right man, sex could be deeply spiritually satisfying, but maybe no longer as physically or mentally satisfying as she now suspected might be possible for her.

And now she was having dinner with this one man and she had been about to explain a theory she had about the movie, an idea she had developed while watching it with him. But he had cut her off to explain his theory. And she listened to his theory, and well, yeah, she had figured that out instantly, hadn't it been obvious? Sure the characters in the film hadn't said it, but the film makers hadn't been subtle. Her point had been more interesting, deep, raised questions to be explored further. And she got interrupted, for that? And it turned out it wasn't even his thought? He'd heard it on the radio, on the breakfast show?

Usually that would be the end of it. She wouldn't be seeing this guy again. Time to bring this evening home. But she wanted to explore these sensations more, and no-doubt the subject was willing.

What were you going to say, he asked. Huh, she said? You had something to say about the movie, a theory, he said. Oh, nothing, she said, smiling, as if shyly, can you tell me that again? I'm not sure I understood it. And he repeated, emphasizing the important yet obvious points. And she had smiled for him as he spoke, and played with her hair, and as he had finished she had leaned forward and said, oh my god, I hadn't thought of that, and she had smiled her best smile for him, and transitioned that into the biting part of her bottom lift, and then looking away, as if embarrassed, and then slightly looking back up at him, to see if he was looking at her, and of course he was, and then laughing bashfully for him. And she pulled her chair closer to the table and leaned closer to him and asked him questions and smiled as he answered and and and and

And that night had been fun, but he hadn't worked out because if she was going to occasionally pretend to be less for her own sexual gratification, then she should at least be doing it with a man who was capable of being more.

And so other men came and went, and there was this new guy, who was interesting and generous and made her laugh, and who gave every reasonable outward appearance one could expect to give of having nothing less than the absolute respect for women that every single woman deserved, and in particular this woman sitting in front of him. But there was something else? Something in his eyes. Something occasionally betrayed? Different. Dangerous? Not quantitative. Not even qualitative. She had no words for it, only concepts without language, and even then, not a fully formed concept, an outline of something, vague shadows that vanished when she directed her mind's eye to them.

And sex with him had been great, sometimes fulfilling her spiritual needs, as other boyfriends had, and certainly it covered more of the territory of her expanded physical and mental needs.

So she told him how she liked it sometimes. When he did those things. Sometimes. When they acted those ways. Some of the time. And he had told her that he had already suspected that about her, and had taken her that direction, and she hadn't pushed back yet, and so he had planned on going further with her, and she said nothing, but lay back and stretched and sighed. Can we still go slowly, she asked, and he smiled and they kissed and they enjoyed the afternoon sun coming through the windows onto their bodies, and she knew he wanted to do this for her.

And then a few months later the 1st of the new month had been a Saturday. She had woken first and as he was still asleep and she didn't want to wake him, she made herself a coffee and settled in with her phone. And she saw the mail and she wanted to read it, but he was there, and he might learn about that, how bad she was, and maybe it was too soon to tell him everything.

But she wanted to open it and he was still sleeping deeply, neither the coffee machine nor the smell of coffee had woken him. She studied the mail. Something was very different. Her KPIs were unchanged. But the mean KPI of the team had risen. A lot. She was now officially below the mean now, by about as much as she had previously been above it.

Assuming symmetric distribution, and ignoring latent societal sexism, more than 50% of the team were outperforming her, some substantially. Even though she was the one they all turned to when they couldn't solve a problem.

And now she realised what had happened. How had it not occurred to her weeks ago that this was coming? One of the two other women in the team had left five weeks ago, and her replacement was a man and of course the team mean rose significantly when one of the two lowest outliers was removed. So it was just her and one other woman now artificially deflating the rest of the team's performance.

She started thinking. What would happen now if the other woman left? The team mean would rise again, and it would just be her, an anchor around their necks, holding everyone else back.

She couldn't help herself. She started to touch herself. She was quiet, and didn't move, but after 10 minutes she sensed his arm moving under the covers, and then touching her arm, and then her hand at the end of it between her legs. She wondered if the smell had woken him.

And the sex had been incredible, but he had held back, denying her release. She'd been very, very wet for him many times before, but she had cum twice last night so she shouldn't be as wet as this. He wanted to know what was different, and batted her hand away every time she went to touch herself, even slapping her once, not too hard, but enough to surprise her. And she shouldn't tell him, but she wanted to tell him, it would be so hot, but she shouldn't, but she did. Not everything, just the main bullet points, quickly, now please, I'm ready. And he had understood and laughed powerfully at her as he held himself above her. He gave her her legs to hold so she couldn't touch herself, and he went to work, demanding she beg more, and that she tell him how much of a freak she was. And oh that look in his eyes, this was it. And the orgasm he gave her had been the greatest of her life.

In the months to come her KPI mails became an event. She could only open it in his presence. She would update the database, and her dashboard, and they would look at the trends, he inspected her wetness. Sometimes he instructed her to use toys, but she couldn't cum, just make herself wetter. He demanded to know what her hopes were. Did she want the number to go up? Or down? Or stay the same. Even though she'd told him before many times, she always fought it, but by the end of evening he'd have her screaming, and panting and crying that the thought of her number going down, relative to the team, did things to her that she couldn't resist. She wanted it.

Then she wasn't allowed to open the mails, she had to send them to him, and she transferred the database and the dashboard to his computer, and he would update them, and then he would drip feed the information to her, driving her insane with heat, begging to know whether strange men took her more or less seriously than before.

And two months later, is he being more cruel than usual? Denying her release? No. The number went up. That had happened before, but now he is punishing her. She wailed and said it is just statistical fluctuation, it is not significant, sometimes it goes up, you've seen it go up before, and he slapped her and this time it stung, but she had smiled and knew that he had seen it. Where did you learn that, he said. What, she gasped. What do you think those words mean? Statistical fluctuation? And she said, she didn't know. She heard it somewhere but didn't understand it. It seemed appropriate, but she didn't really know what it meant, she was sorry. It wouldn't happen again.

But it would happen again. Statistical fluctuations are like that. Either way, the sex was great; either the humiliation of being a victim of sexism when the number went down, or his play-punishment if the number went up. But now she really wanted the number to go down, not because she feared the number going up but because it would be hotter.

Their roles in the bedroom had long begun bleeding into their relationship roles. Sometimes they were equals, sometimes they were not. And sometimes she would have chosen for him to act that way because its fun, and sometimes she would have preferred he did not because it wasn't the mood she was in. Either way, it wouldn't matter, because he knew how her body would betray her and later as she stroked his back, she would thank him and tell him how good he was, no matter that an hour earlier she had been resisting this path.

The shock she felt the first time he corrected her in public. She had said nothing. And when they had a moment alone she said she felt cold and she wanted to go home, she didn't want to be here anymore. And she realised it was now their home he was taking her back to, and oh god she'd moved in with him, with "this".

They said nothing to each other in the taxi but when they arrived home he forced her over the arm of the couch and removed her skirt, and the part of her mind that felt cold didn't want to, but her body was hot so she let him thrust away and tire himself out so he would sleep and she could plan what she would do now. And he was taking his time, as he did when he was really enjoying himself, and if he was going to take this long, she may as well slip her hand under her self and up between her legs, and he slapped it away, and now it had been another minute and she had planned on being silent for whatever remained of the evening but she had to ask him if he would make her cum, and she knew she would beg and say anything he told her to say, and that she would love it, and if it was going to be easier and funner to just do that, then she may as well just do that, and she felt so weak thinking that but there was nothing else to think. She reached for the discarded skirt and covered her head with it so she didn't have to see the world and have it see her as she accepted a new low.

The next day they don't talk about it, she doesn't want to talk about it, but throughout the morning her gaze and her touch linger on him just that bit longer than is already usual, and his smile, that knowing smirk, all morning long. She brought him coffee as he read his phone, and sat herself on his lap and didn't say anything but just held him.

A few weeks later he is talking to the waiter, and the waiter says something to which she makes a further inquiry, and with a hand motion and a look, he quiets her and he continues talking, and oh god, she was smiling and averting her eyes, why am I like this. I should fight it, a part of her thought. But a different part of her laughed and said ok, good, fight, you'll just make what's to come even better.

And now - how much time has passed? - she is talking to his friends and he quiets her and starts talking for her and she smiles for him and lets herself listen to him, he's so smart, and so am I but it is fun to pretend not to be, let others believe I am not.

And by now they have talked about all these things they feel, and she has consented for more, and he suggests she go light blond, if she enjoys being mistaken for less than she is, certainly some people will be more likely to treat her a certain way if they have certain expectations about hair colour. And she does it and she loves it. And she hopes some people do think less of her for it, though she would never do that to someone else. And it looks so good, and the style he pointed at on a woman in a magazine was gorgeous on her, and she wondered if she should get it styled more often, go to the hairdresser more regularly than just her usual four to six month visits for a cut.

She thinks about what she enjoys about sex now versus earlier, and whereas before it was between two equals, now their differences are not only emphasized, but exaggerated, and the exaggeration makes sex better.

Was there more they could exaggerate? What about physical exaggeration. She finds herself wondering if he would enjoy her with bigger boobs. She imagines they are at a restaurant with another couple and he is speaking for her so there is no need for her to say anything with her words, but she can speak with her presentation, with her back straight, shoulders back, tight dress, (revealing maybe?), perfect make-up and hair. And at home he would grab her and pull her down and tear off her clothes and stare at her chest that way he does ... Would he like that?

The idea had been in her head for a few weeks and the fantasys were getting more insistent. She asked him what he thought of her getting breast implants. He loved it. And she wanted to ask for his opinions, any specific ideas, what would he like, even though she knew that was the worst thing anyone should do. What if they broke up? But it would be so hot to let a man decide. At the very least, find out if he had opinions? That couldn't hurt? That wasn't the same as letting him decide.

And now it was done, and people looked at her more. She wonders if, when people, when they see my blonde hair and big boobs, do they have lower expectations of me? Why didn't I do this earlier? Because it had never been something she had ever wanted before, the idea had repulsed her until two months ago.

And one day she is talking to him in the kitchen as they prepare dinner, chatting about this and that, and he is saying nothing, is he paying attention even? And she looks at him and he is looking at her chest and she instantly she is making that face, the one she always makes when he is treating her this way, the one he has shown her so often in the mirror. He reaches over and gives one breast a playful slap and she yelps at the sudden sensitive contact, and he laughs and pulls of her top and bra and directs her to continue chopping.

She thinks of the KPI mails. The customers never see her blonde hair or chest. Her contact with them is either by e-mail or voice-call. Video-call is used for the big customers, the established relationships. But she doesn't do that work. So, only e-mail and voice-call. How can I fall farther? She could work less hard? But that wouldn't be the same. She wants to work as hard as she does, that is, more than anyone else, and be punished for it just because she is a woman. If she stops trying, then a fall in her numbers would be deserved. It wouldn't be the same as an undeserved fall.

Voice calls? Nothing she can do there, that she can think of. Maybe she could project a certain type of voice. But no, that would be extra effort, effort taken from actually doing a good job, effort taken away from focusing solely on customer's problem. Her act of sabotage, her attempt to appeal to men's prejudice, should be something that she cannot help but be.

What are the things that customers see of her, that provoke their prejudice. Her name, in emails, on voice-calls, a woman's name. An appended MSc, her rank, "Senior Level 3 Support Agent". It would all have to go. No qualifications. No rank. Not even a reduced job title.

She didn't tell her fiancee. She wanted it to be a surprise. And when he opened his present the next month, he was so proud of her, and she felt so loved. And she cooed happily as he kissed and caressed her form, bound over her work desk.

And he asked did something change, and she explained what she did, and he said, oh, we could go further. He opened her email, and turned the laptop in her direction. she turned her head to face it on the desk beside her, and she directed him to where the footer settings were.

He looked at her name. How often do I call you Fionnuala? Never, she said. What do I call you? Fifi, she said. No! We can't do that. And he played with her exposed holes, and unbound her right arm and moved the laptop closer to her so she could reach. She backspaced Fionnuala, one letter at a time, breathing heavily, enjoying each reward he gave her. She wrote "Fifi". And he stopped rewarding her and said, but when I call you that it's spelled capital f, e, e, hyphen, capital f, e, e. So she back-spaced again, and now she was Fee-Fee Connell.

All these changes were not actually allowed by the company, but she had written some of the structures that wrapped the objects in the systems, she knew how she could get her usual name and title to appear for people in her company, and her new name and title for people outside the company. It wasn't fool-proof, a customer might forward a mail that she was chained in to one of her colleagues, and maybe they would see. But maybe not for a while.

And her KPIs fell again. The name change happened too quickly after the removal of title and credentials to fully be able to quantify what effect each change had had. She said she wished she knew what the different effects were, and he looked her in the eye and told her how unhappy it made him when she made herself unhappy with smart people thoughts. And she laughed for him, and played up to her role.

And now they were married and she had taken his name and what only recently had been "Fionnuala Connell, MSc, Senior Level 3 Support Agent" was now "Fee-Fee Cheeky" thanks to her husband's Scottish roots.

In the end the changes to her name and title caused her to fall well over a standard deviation and a half below the mean. Most of the Level 3 agents had been there long enough now, that - though she was still the most experienced and knowledgeable - they didn't need to turn to her for help as often as before. Whatever theoretical lead she might originally have had on them in a perfect world would have been diminished by now. She wasn't the only person capable of diagnosing original problems anymore.

She wondered for the first time if she was expendable. Certainly the amount of customers who asked her if they could speak to someone more senior, who rejected her help, had increased. Her boss would want to talk to her at some point. Too much of her assigned customers were getting bumped to other agents. Was she becoming a bottleneck preventing efficient throughput?

And now her nose job, her husband's supreme control of her will meaning he just asked her, would you offer to get a nose job for me? He actually just asked it? How dare he! Why? What's wrong with my nose? Nothing, he said instantly, its a perfectly-shaped and proportioned nose, not looking up at her, his eyes as fascinated as ever with her breasts. This morning he was examining the different ripples and waves of dense water he could summon by moving or touching or hitting her breasts in different ways. But, he said, I think it would be a wonderful act of devotion if you offered to have a nose job for me, just because maybe I would like it.

And he didn't say anything about it again, but the idea was in her mind now and she didn't want a nose job, but now she couldn't think about anything else. Would he prefer a different nose on her face? Would she do it, just because he asked? She certainly hadn't refused to do it yet. Did she want to refuse? What did she want more? To encourage him, or to refuse. She didn't know. She thought about it differently. What would disappoint her more? If she encouraged him or if she refused. That was an easier question to answer.

A few weeks later and she came to him and asked him was there a kind of nose he wanted? Not committing to anything, she said, she was just curious. And he had said, no nose in particular. I just want you to give me the option. And she had asked, but what would you want? And he shut down the conversation: you said you weren't committing to anything so there is nothing to discuss.

A week later she told him how much she wanted him to be happy with her, to understand how strong her devotion was to him. If you wanted to get me a new nose, you could. And they had kissed and he had said, that is so sweet, you don't have to offer me that. And they kissed again and she told him, but "if you wanted to", you could. Anything you want. Is there anything you'd prefer? And he had said, that's a generous offer, a beautiful act of commitment. But, he continued, I've never actually thought about it before, whether I'd like you to have a different nose. She wanted to gasp at the brazenness of this statement, after all that had come before in the last few weeks, but she could see he had more to say and waited. Let me think about it for a few weeks, he said. And maybe we keep your already-perfect nose, or maybe I can think of a better nose for you.

And she had waited, and she fantasized about what he might choose, if he might choose anything. Oh, I hope he does pick something, just so I can show him that I would do it for him. And suddenly she was thinking a lot about what kind of nose she wanted, no, that he wanted.

How! How does he do this to me, she asked herself as she examined her newly healed and petite nose, slightly upturned, with cleaner lines, and a sharper, paired down ridge. She turned this way and that, admiring herself, trying to stop herself from smiling, so she could examine it's form against an expressionless face. This wasn't a nose that looked like it had been grown, this was manufactured.

Her boss called her in, actually into the office to talk, and well, her wardrobe had changed since last she worked in the office. She didn't recognise anyone. They didn't recognise her. They looked at her though. And she enjoyed them looking. She had displayed some midriff in the office before, but never cleavage. Still her outfit looked expensive, and the cleavage was part of the look, and it wasn't like cleavage wasn't allowed in the office, so she hadn't crossed a line. She enjoyed herself pretending not to notice the guys looking at her as her heels clicked by. She made sure they saw her keycard dangling from the lanyard wrapped around her finger. That's right, she thought, that's not one of the visitor keycards. I work here, and you're hoping you see me again.

Her boss said it wasn't her fault, it was just necessary to have a talk, because it was standard procedure in the case of such a decline, but he knew that her success rate among clients who did accept her help was still among the best. Everything was fine. But! It would be great if we could figure out why so much clients ask for someone else. By cycling so much clients from you to someone else, we are reducing productivity.

**********************************************************

And now it was the evening, and she was with her husband and his friends at their traditional meeting at their favourite bar, in their usual snug. And there was a new friend there that day, who sat beside her, and he asked how her day was and she had mentioned she had actually been in the office that day, even though she never was. And the new friend knew her company and presumed she was reasonably knowledgeable in the domains that that company was known to excel in, and so he started a conversation about those topics, and she had listened attentively, smiling for him to continue, like her husband liked her to do when one of his friends was talking, but when it was her turn to say something, she just said, I don't really know anything about that, and laughed apologetically, like her husband also liked her to do. I'm just customer service.

But surely even customer service has some knowledge ...? the new friend left the question hanging for her to catch. I'm just entry level support, she explained. We have a script and checklists but I don't really understand it, she lied, talking about the decision tree procedures that she herself had designed and implemented for the first level agents. I just ask questions and put the answers into the computer and then the computer tells me what to say to the people. Sometimes I make mistakes though, she pouted. It's hard.

And she saw now that he understood, and he changed the subject for her, asking was she planning any holidays, and now here was a subject that her husband believed would be appropriate for her, and so she yapped about this place and that place, and she didn't know which would be better, so she asked his opinion, touching his leg as she did so. And she played with her hair as she listened to his answer, and she saw her husband's approval out of the corner of her eye and she felt warm and mushy.

And later that friend was talking to the friend on the other side of him and they were talking to each other and not for the table, but she thought they were talking about her, and did the friend she already know say, "yeah, dumb as rocks", oh she hoped so!

And as always, when the friends were getting past her to go to the bar or the toilet, they'd touch her shoulder, and the friend she did know sitting on her other side would touch her thigh as he talked to her and she would smile for him and touch his leg or arm back as she talked to him, and she played with her hair for all of them as she listened. And when she got up to go to the bathroom, if she passed one of them, they would always touch her as they walked by, brushing her waist or hip, or if walking in the same direction through the crowded bar, they would guide her with a hand on her waist or at the tops of her hips.

All his friends called her Fee-Fee now. Her husband had only occasionally called her Fee-Fee around them in the early days of their relationship, but slowly he called her Fionnuala less around them, and then not at all, and they followed his lead. His family also called her Fee-Fee. It had been sudden with them. Up to a point they had always called her Fionnuala. Then one time they visited and everyone called her Fee-Fee. No one asked if she minded or what she preferred. She wondered what he had said to them. That she preferred to be called Fee-Fee, but was too embarrassed to correct them after so many years of being called Fionnuala? And maybe he insisted, put his foot down, do not ask her about this, she is mortified.

And now she was still working as diligently as ever but her KPIs had held steady for a while, and then disaster. Two new female coworkers. For so long there had only been two women in the team. Now there were four. Her KPIs remained the same, but societal sexism ensured that the team mean fell, reducing her gap to it. Just a standard deviation under now. Could she do anything else? Work less hard? No. Not an option. She craved unearned punishment.

What else could she do. Her husband suggested she get longer nails. She wanted to do that. Her nails were already longer and more often manicured than she used to keep them, because she knew he preferred it. And now he suggested she go longer, but she couldn't. Her nails were about as long as they could be before it would start affecting her typing and productivity. No. She must work as hard as ever.

But where does it all end? What is her goal here? To work forever, forever craving that more and more men misjudge her abilities? But to work this diligently forever? That had once been her plan. Now it didn't sound as good. It would be nice to work less, or to work less hard, or to not work at all. And then she could do other things. Like have longer nails, she smiled to herself at the thought. To have longer nails for her husband and to not worry about anything.

She decided. She would escalate her career-sabotaging project, bring it to some forced conclusion. Force her boss to take action against her. Get fired or even demoted. She needed something she could change. Some aspect of her that the customers would reject. Ideally something she couldn't undo, even if she wanted to. Permanently condemn herself to endure the hot, dismissing opinions of men.

There. That was it. This was the change she could make that would do it. This option had occurred to her before, but it was just too extreme. And now that she thought about it more she realised how hot it would be and how much she wanted it.

The doctor suggested that there were non-surgical alternatives. She said she wanted to explore those too, but she absolutely did want the surgery anyway. She would explore the alternatives after, if she wanted more.

The doctor objected. Non-surgical alternatives must be investigated first. No, she wanted the surgery first. That was that. She didn't tell the doctor, but the non-surgical alternatives would require effort, effort that would distract her from trying to do good work for the customers. But she didn't say that to him. Just that she wanted the surgery.

But the surgery is irreversible, the doctor objected. And she loved the idea of it being irreversible. If it was irreversible, she couldn't change her mind later, and she was stuck. And how men, all people even, perceived her would permanently be altered. She could never escape. Warmth spread up her body thinking about it. But she didn't say any of that to the doctor. Just that she wanted the surgery. You aren't close to the type of candidate that this surgery is for, the doctor insisted. She knew, but she didn't care. She wanted the surgery.

The doctor refused to work with her. She found a new doctor. The surgery went well, the doctor was happy. Her husband was proud. She nodded and smiled to both of them, at the doctor, then her husband, who squeezed her hand. They had to wait two days before she would be healed enough to see roughly what the results were, and another month to see how the changes settled.

Two days later they came back. She tried for the first time in the doctor's office, first drinking a big gulp of water and clearing her over-dry throat. Just the clearing of her throat had sounded different. She looked at her husband, both their eyes wide. The doctor had her reperform all the tests he had done before the surgery, evaluating where her metrics were now. The doctor explained what it would mean. Still too early to know for sure though. She would come back next month and redo the tests. That would confirm it.

She remembered saying something in the car on the way home. Her husband looked over at her, smiling, then laughing, a hand reaching to her thigh, gently squeezing. She had laughed too with her new laugh, and he had reached over and held her chin as if she was the cutest thing, and she had squirmed in her seat for him.

He fucked her when they got home. She wasn't allowed to cum. No loud noises for her for now. Doctors orders. So no cumming for you during recovery. But I can cum silently, she had squeaked. He ignored her. She thought about saying it again. She didn't.

Later she had been in the kitchen and he had been in the sitting room watching television and she had asked out if he wanted anything before she came back. No response. She went out to him and asked again. Didn't you hear me? No he hadn't, genuinely surprised. He hadn't heard anything. Do it again, he said, smiling at the realisation. She went back and called again and she looked through the door and he shook his head. He muted the video and she went back and tried again, and this time he heard her but only just.

This of course was what she had wanted. The doctor had scarred her larynx, but only the part responsible for the deepest tones, permanently removing those tones from her voice. Formerly in the average range for a woman her age, her pitch had been raised by an octave and a half. She sounded ridiculous, and she knew it.

But the rise in pitch hadn't been the only effect. The volume of the voice is a sum of all the tones. Removing some tones reduces the volume, and the deeper tones tend to be louder. She wasn't just higher pitched, she was quieter too. The doctor had told her that she had lost 5 decibels. She didn't really understand exactly what a decibel was, or what it measured, or on what scale it did that measuring, but she planned to edge at some point while she read more.

And she sat quietly beside her husband as they watched a film, and she would have to go back to work in two days and she was feeling so horny and she wanted to cum but she wasn't allowed, but she breathed deeply and gripped her husbands hand, and he rolled her over and admired the wet patch she had massaged into the sheets with her bare bottom, and he helped himself to her, and she whimpered in her new voice at the pleasure and at the torment of not being allowed to take herself to conclusion, or even just to moan loudly.

Walking down a busy, noisy street with her husband, she had said something, but found that he hadn't heard her at first. He looked at her, realising now. It was still too soon to start putting her larynx under strain. I'd prefer if you didn't raise your voice to be heard, he said. She nodded, and they continued on. What she had to say wasn't too important. He didn't need to hear it now. If it was in anyway important, something he must eventually hear, then she would certainly remember to tell him later.

And now her first day at work again. Only one week til month end, so any changes may not be detectable in the next KPI mail. Her first customer immediately got impatient with her, and eventually asked if there was anyone else he could talk too, of course, I'm so sorry, I'll find someone who can help you, she said in her new peeping whine. She groaned to herself at the experience, or she attempted a groan. She wasn't sure if groan was an acceptable term for the noise she had just made. Of course, sometimes customer interactions went that way anyway. No way to tell if her new voice was the cause. More data needed. She passed the call to a co-worker and e-mailed the solution for that customer to that co-worker.

The next months KPI mail arrived. Her numbers were down, but not significant. But it had only been a week with her new voice. That week had certainly felt less productive than before, but she wanted to see the result of a whole month. She wanted to see the big drop, all at once.

Outside of work, her life was immediately different. She had irrevocably altered her interactions with people. When speaking to strangers for the first time, there was always a moment when she would see her voice register in their face. Sometimes they hid it well, but it was always there. As if to say, what? You sound like that?

And as for men, specifically? They had always smiled at her. Before she started wearing more makeup, but more after. Before her then-boyfriend's modifications to her wardrobe, but more after. Before the boob job and the blonde hair, but more after. And now she opened her mouth to speak and she would see their smile would alter, adopting a "oh you dear sweet thing" character, had it not already had that character. What it did to her, that reaction! How it made her feel!

Her husband had that reaction. More often than had previously been the case, he wouldn't answer a question, or respond to her, but would just pull her in and keep her warm and kiss her and let her go, maybe giving a boob or ass cheek a squeeze. But then not say anything, just carry on doing what he had been doing. Ignoring her more. Not ignoring her needs, never, not once. Just ignoring her words. Don't worry he said on one occasion. If it's important I'll take care of it, always. And as he held her, looking at her with the deepest condescending affection she could imagine, she believed him, and knew he would take care of it, and maybe it wasn't so necessary to say things that he was probably already ahead of her on. Or at least, it was fun to pretend that he was probably already ahead of her on.

One of her husband's friends was in the neighbourhood during the work day, as they usually always managed somehow to be, and came over. This was the first time since the surgery. Obviously her husband had told them she was available again. Before letting him in, she ensured the door to her office was closed. They weren't to know she had a smart person job. And he had told her she sounded sexy as fuck and she had felt reassured and he had asked to hear her speak more and she had indulged him and had enjoyed his attention and petting.

And then he had hugged her just that bit too tight, too possessively, like all his friends did, so they could feel her large breasts press against them, and he had kissed her, and she took him to the couch and first sat him down and then knelt down herself, and she told him she wasn't fully healed yet, so he couldn't take charge this time, she would have to lead. And he asked, but her husband had said it was ok now? And she smiled and assured him it was ok for him to come over now, but he just can't be rough with her this time, even though it probably wouldn't be a problem, and she does really enjoy that, but just in case, not this time.

She was blabbering, talking quickly, she wondered if she was less intelligible with this voice at this speed. He laughed at her and she laughed back. "Fee-Fee Squeaky" he said, and she tried not to laugh too loud because she wasn't supposed to yet, but she did laugh, and she started undoing his belt.

He took out his phone, and started filming her, and telling her what a good job she was doing, and once he was done, he lifted her head and part of him leaked out of her now unfilled mouth, and she smiled for him and the camera and he asked asked her what was her name and she had said for the camera "Fee-Fee Squeaky" in her impossible voice.

Later she watched the video that he had shared on the group chat, captioned "Wait for it. Sound on." She was so horny. It had been weeks since her last orgasm. She wouldn't choose this, but she could see a rhythm in how one might live like this. Surrendering oneself to the permanent feeling, living life in a misty daze, always thinking about sex, about pleasing others, but never thinking about her own release because that wasn't an option. What a nightmare. Fortunately there would always be some limits she could not break. But she would be returning to the doctor soon, and she would be allowed to raise her voice, and her husband would let her orgasm.

They returned to the doctor. He was delighted with her healing. The surgery had maybe removed more, just a little bit more, than the target, but not problematically so. They performed all the tests again and the doctor smiled warmly at her all the time, especially when she said something. And her husband asked the doctor all the questions she had told him that she wanted to ask, and the doctor answered her husband and she sat and listened, and she wondered if she had to listen. Could she stop paying attention. Surely if it was something she needed to know, then they would get her attention.

And then it was something she needed to know. The doctor gave her the name and number of a voice coach. Her husband took the card from the table in front of her. Oh right. She hadn't wanted to think about this. As you age, the doctor explained, the larynx ages too. The tones that degrade first are the highest tones. For most people this isn't a problem. But for her, with her already unnaturally quiet voice, the loss of more tones might see further degradation in volume. With daily exercises, performed correctly, she could prevent this degradation.

The doctor and her husband took turns talking to her, her husband repeating pretty much what the doctor had said, but in simpler language that she enjoyed, but didn't need. And she thought more about what they were telling her and she thought that's hot too. I've given myself a disability. On purpose. Made myself less capable. I can never undo this. I wouldn't undo this.

In front of the doctor, she asked her husband, will you come with me to the place where I learn the exercises, so you can see what I should do and then you can make sure I do them properly? He held her hand, squeezing, of course.

I sound so good, she said to herself in the mirror. She had finished today's exercises. Her husband hadn't been with her this time, but he said he would check how she was doing again later this week, just to make she wasn't losing form. She smiled for herself. Her delicate nose and pink lips seeming to match her high and soft voice. So girly, she thought. "So girly", she said, her voice impossibly soft.

So she could raise her voice now. Her larynx was healed. They went to a restaurant to celebrate, the music loud and the atmosphere thick with bodies and loud voices. He talked to her across the small table. She talked back. He leaned forward to hear. She leaned forward to help him hear, but also to give him a better view of her cleavage. He held her hand on the table and smiled at her, and she smiled back and they kissed, and he laughed and she laughed too, her new incredibly high pitched laugh. She drew looks from the people beside them, and raised eyebrows, but it hadn't carried much further than that in the din.

Another time, like a previous time, walking down another loud street. She says something but he doesn't hear. He looked at her, realising. Before she can repeat herself, louder, I'd prefer if you didn't raise your voice to be heard, he said, unless necessary. She nodded, and they continued on. What she had to say wasn't too important. Just a remark. He didn't need to hear it now, maybe ever. If it was in anyway important, something he must hear at some point, then she would certainly remember to tell him some other time.

A delicious asymmetry had been introduced to their home life. If she called out to him in another room, and there was any noise, music, television, whatever, he couldn't hear her. She had to go find him and ask or say whatever she wanted to ask or say. But if he called out to her in another room, and there was any noise, music, television, whatever, then she could always hear his deeper more powerful voice. And she could try and reply, but he wouldn't hear her, so she would have to come to his call.

If one of them wanted to say something to the other in a different room, it was always her who had to go, he could stay put. And she told him how hot she found it, and he had laughed as he fingered her and promised her he wouldn't abuse it, well, not too much anyway. And she had gripped the table edge and he was taking his time with her, making her more desperate, and she begged him to abuse it, as much as he wanted.

But there was more, because when she had done the various tests in the doctor's office, he had tried them too, just for fun, and now they knew that the decibel level of her shouting voice was barely louder than his normal voice. It was rare she raised her voice at him, but it did happen. And the first time that it happened after her recovery from the surgery, it was necessary for him to only slightly raise his voice above a normal speaking tone to drown her out. She was shocked at how weak and small it made her feel. And she knew he could see what effect it was having on her, and although the warmth spreading from below hadn't imprisoned her yet, she knew it would, and that this argument was going to end the way he liked it, on his terms, with her begging to be less, and with her thanking him afterwards and meaning every word of it.

And now the next months KPIs. A full month of her new voice. She knows its going to be bad. It felt very bad. More people than ever before refused her assistance. She hadn't told her husband how it had been. He wanted to go in blind. But I know what's coming.

He opens the mail. He double takes. Has she ever seen him do that? It must be bad. It is. Two and a half standard deviations below the mean. A huge drop. She must be the worst in the team now, and by some distance. She tells her husband she can check, access the KPI database. It's not allowed, maybe illegal, but nobody would know, she could do it, see how bad she actually is. He unties her and she sits on his lap and works, and she is in. There it is. Confirmed. She is the worst employee.

She curls up against him. She didn't know how she expected to feel. Happy, horny, sad, angry? She feels empty. Her stomach isn't there. Just a hole. Why did I do it, she asks him. Why did I waste so much time working. I could have quit years ago. And he strokes her hair, and tells her he wouldn't have changed the journey for anything. And she smiles and they kiss.

I don't know what's next, she says. I've never not known that.

**********************************************************

And that was six months ago. After three months her boss offered to reassign her. Back to working on the codebase, away from customers. It had been a while, but she still had the qualifications and the experience. No, she didn't want to leave customer service. Her boss told her that in that case he could only fire her or demote her to Level 2. She asked her husband what he wanted. Take the demotion, with reduced hours, so you have more time to yourself. But now a problem. Her manager came back and told her that the Level 2 manager didn't want her, didn't want to introduce a bottleneck into his team. She requested Level 1, with 25 hours a week.

And now she was Level 1, asking the customers the questions in the script that she had wrote. Always saying the thing that the computer told her to say, even though she had written the decision tree that the computer was following. The decision tree always either solved the problem without special contribution from herself, or directed her to pass the customer up to Level 2. Anyone could have done this job.

Often she guessed correctly what the problem was before finishing the questionnaire for the customer. She wanted to tell the customer but couldn't. The Level 1 agents were under much more surveillance. They weren't being paid to think creatively. Random calls were reviewed by the middle managers. If she started going off-script, she would be caught. It wouldn't matter if she actually solved customers problems faster.

And as she had always done her Level 3 as diligently as it was supposed to be performed, now she did her Level 1 job as diligently as it was supposed to be performed. It was easy. Boring. She found herself going into automatic pilot as she read the checklist. No longer thinking about what the customer was telling her, just passing it on to the computer and waiting for the computer to tell her what to say.

She wasn't being paid to think. So she didn't think. One day, as she painted her now-longer finger nails at her desk, between entering customer answers as well-practised, one-fingered sets of key strokes, she imagined what it would be like to lose all knowledge of the product. All expertise. Just have it cut out of her brain. It sounded hot. One of the most knowledgeable people in the company not just pretending to uncomprehendingly repeat a procedure with each customer, but changed to actually uncomprehendingly repeat a procedure with each customer.

She wanted to touch herself, but she still needed a free finger to type in the keyboard, and the nails of her other hand were still drying. And besides, she was sitting and she still hadn't even mastered masturbating while lying down with these nails. And besides again, her husband only occasionally allowed her to practise. So instead she pouted to herself at the various mirrors her husband had had installed around the room. They were expertly arranged using the odd angles of the room to allow her to see herself from various angles during her five hour day. Mmmm, her new lips looked good when they pouted like this, even if they were still bruised. Her husband loved them. All his friends had loved them when he had invited them over yesterday to see her latest change.

And her KPIs were still bad, measured as compared to the rest of the Level 1 agents, though she always expertly followed the checklist. Unless the customers didn't allow her to finish. And speaking of, the customers at this level were so much ruder, and said things to her, or behaved in ways that no one ever had at Level 3. She imagined the other Level 1 agents didn't enjoy it, but it was nice in that strange way, to have strange men - and even strange women - judging her incompetent, and to have their prejudice leak out in all manner of creative ways that targeted her, little her, just trying to her best. One time a customer even demanded that they be allowed to speak to an adult.

But now she was walking out. Her brain finally broken. If she was unable to convince people that she was capable of meeting their expectations, then maybe she should just do stuff where she would meet their expectations. Her husband agreed and promised a new career. What had he planned? He wouldn't say. But he promised her it would be easy, enjoyable, and with low hours. Further, her safety and security and happiness was his highest priority and would never be compromised. And she thought about it and she realised that was more than enough for her to be happy. She hoped she would make him proud.

But not yet, he said. First time off, a few months to acclimatise to being you, maybe a whole year, just to be sure we can kill off any remnants of the old you. And she wondered aloud what she would like to do with her time off, and he hushed her with his finger on her bee-stung lips and told her that for the next few months she is not to worry about deciding things. That's his responsibility. But she can help him make good decisions. When she likes something, anything, even a feeling, she should tell him. When she doesn't like something, she should tell him. That's her responsibility, to help him make good decisions for her. Otherwise she need not say much.

And they kissed as she sat on her lap, and they smiled at each other, and he removed her top and bra and kissed more as he played with her breasts and she thought about his instructions, and she said, I love when you play with my breasts. What else, he said. I love that you love to play with my breasts. What else, he said. And she felt his hard cock in his lap, and she said I love that I make you hard. And he had paused and asked, but you make a lot of other men hard too. Don't you like that? And she made a show of thinking about it for him, pressing a finger dumbly to her lip like she knew he liked, uhhhh, yeah, I love that too. But I love it best when I make you hard. Well, he said, that's good to know, and I promise I will make any changes to you that I can think of that will get me harder more often. Yay, she said, then holding him tight and giving him a deliberately long and wet kiss.

Later she woke up in the middle of the night and realised she didn't have to do anything tomorrow and she wondered what that would be and she wondered if thinking about what to do was too close to a decision, and she thought about how she would like to try following his instructions, so she would just get up tomorrow and do the things she usually might do on a day off, and if she thinks of things that she loves or hates, she will definitely tell her husband, and if she gets bored and doesn't enjoy that, she will tell him she doesn't enjoy that, and maybe he will find something for her to not be bored with.

In the morning she turned off his alarm clock and woke him up a different way instead. And after she was done she hugged him and told her how much she loved sucking his cock. And he grunted, still recovering, and stroked her back and hair as she lay on top of him. And then he asked, and what else do you love or hate. And she thought, and she said, I love that no one takes me seriously when they hear my voice. What else, he said. I hate that only some people I meet in a day will hear my voice and so most people don't have the chance to not take me that seriously.

And he rolled her off him and said he was taking a shower, and he said she could use the new underwear at a low setting, the pair she was supposed to use now instead of touching herself. She asked, can I cum? He leaned over her and slapped her, not too hard, but it stung. That was a direct request to do something, he said. That isn't allowed. You can say what you like and dislike only. I will decide what you will do. There will be a punishment, and it will last a week, and it will be cumulative. If you do that again, there will be a second week, and a third and so on. I will tell you what the punishment is when I finish my shower, for now think on what it might be, and don't cum. I want you wet today.

[mod2amaryllis]

I'm waiting for this migraine to die so I'm gonna tell you guys about Marshall, the dog who made me quit. read on if you wanna learn about extended quarantine and why this job sucks sometimes and other times is the most rewarding thing on the planet, often for the same reasons lmao.

in 2021, the weight of covid was kinda crashing down. i heard this was the case for a lot of health workers. we switched into emergency mode throughout 2020 and powered through, then the rest of the world decided to try and "get back to normal" a year later, giving no regard to the people who'd been working like a speeding train with the brakes off all that time. i was losing it!!! add a few more hay bales to my back when we hired a new doc who was the most demanding dude I'd ever met (still is, but we've come to some understanding lol) and who decided to run me as ragged as possible the first day he was left to his own devices.

that was the day Marshall came in.

i didn't talk about this back then because the outcome of the case was uncertain and the details so specific, but here's the run down knowing that 2 years later, Marshall is living his best life. when he was a baby, too young to have received a rabies vaccine, his owners found a rabies positive bat in the house. the state vet will always recommend euthanasia in these situations, OR, if you can somehow find and afford the option, a 6 month quarantine. this was such a tragic situation the owners were willing to try to save him. my clinic happens to have a decent isolation ward that's rarely in use; we use it for infectious patients like parvo puppies, uri's that have to be hospitalized, etc. so my boss agreed to take him for those 6 months. but the owners' caveat was that if he wasn't mentally adjusting to isolation after a couple weeks, they would euthanize so as not to put him through it and leave him with lifelong behavior issues.

that day, when animal control brought Marshall in the middle of an insane rush, we were short staffed and already at the end of our ropes with this new doc. i was the only qualified person who could talk to the officer. i was the only person who could take him back to isolation. the act of putting a 12 week old puppy in a 4 x 4 run where i knew he would either spend 6 months untouched, or never see the outside again, broke me. last straw.

i was a mess, for the rest of that day and the rest of that weekend having to go in and take care of him, when it was too early for him to adjust so i was sure he wouldn't make it. I'd come home sobbing. eventually jose was just like, "this isn't worth it any more," and i sent in a two weeks notice. i'd come close to doing so many times in the previous 6 years but never pulled the trigger. it took a total meltdown. my managers responded with regret, but understanding.

i wish i could've just felt free and done with it but for those two weeks i was just uncertain. this job is so complicated. the benefits for my pets are enormous; it's my main social network; it's income; I'm good at it and it gives me purpose. it's just also hell on earth! with no pressure from anyone else one way or the other, by the end of two weeks I'd decided to instead try going part time. that's where I'm at 2 years later so guess it worked lol.

but! there was still Marshall. shortly after we took him, we also happened to get a call for the same situation on 2 cats, and decided to take them as well. 3 animals on a 6 month quarantine. very new and daunting for all of us.

that first weekend was hard, but slowly, Marshall figured things out. it was the least ideal situation imaginable and i was at rock bottom and so was he, but i had this moment of like.....ok. if he wants to make this work, I'm gonna do as right by him as possible. and of course all us techs were helping him (one of my road dog coworkers always opened so i referred to her as his "morning mom") but i in particular took a special interest in training and enrichment. it became a passion. i was working less, but i volunteered extra weekends so i could see him more.

he was so young he hadn't even done much basic command training, and the fact that i couldn't touch him at all was a challenge. i started with a clicker to signal I'd rolled a treat into his run, since i couldn't give it to him directly. over those months we went through the basics: sit, down, paw, touch, using a back scratcher for a hand. part of the worry was him getting enough exercise; we noticed that when he'd get agitated, he'd jump on the bars non stop. i was like hmm that might be our only option, so i made "up" a command. i'd basically run burpies for exercise, up-sit-down-sit-up. he was a fast learner, very attentive. seeing him keep his wits about him like that was straight up thrilling. he even "potty trained" himself, barking like crazy whenever he'd go to the bathroom so we'd know right away he needed the run cleaned.

in the ward, there are 2 runs and 3 kennels. i trained Marshall to go back and forth between runs so we could clean. we'd have his food waiting for him in the next run over so he could eat while we'd clean; at the midday switch, he'd have a doggie popsicle. he was such a smart dog i knew toys and treats alone weren't cutting it for enrichment, and i couldn't constantly train him when i still had to be doing the rest of my job.

i started having everyone save every single box and paper-packaging that came in. i'd unfold some boxes for "bedding," so he'd at least have something between him and the concrete (he'd chew and eat any blanket we tried giving him). the rest, i turned into puzzles. i put treats inside and closed them up. put big boxes on their side in his run so he could go in and out. crumpled up paper-packaging with treats mixed in for him to dig through. every day i'd turn one run into a box-toy paradise, let him in, clean the other, and by the time i was checking back in on him he was snoozing in a pile of destruction. success. when other techs wouldn't go to the same lengths, i'd stay late pre-making his boxes and telling people to just throw them in dammit. i also queued several ambient sound playlists, birdsong cityscapes etc, to play on the weekend days when he was alone for long periods.

the months went by like this. i learned more about training, enrichment, and most specifically quarantine than i ever had outside of my experiences with my own puppies. we fell into a routine. we straight up loved each other, he was part of my life. he'd been this horrible trigger and pretty much doubled my workload, but he got to live.

then there were the cats! they were a little easier than Marsh just because they were already adults so didn't have all this energy to wrangle. for them, daily cleaning of course, taking turns going into the 1 empty kennel where i'd have treats, catnip, and other "new" smells waiting for them. for enrichment i focused on reconfiguration. every 2-3 days i'd rearrange things in their kennels, with the big pieces being a litter box, a bed, and an upright sturdy box (so they could either be in it or on top of it, giving them one upper level). it was habitat tetris. we'd play with strings and use the back scratcher for pets. then about every week, i'd switch their kennels to slightly change their view AND traded beds to mingle scents. they were from the same household and we were worried there'd be difficulty re-bonding after not being in direct contact for so long. they also did very well by the end of 6 months aside from gaining a lot of weight (oops). i learned just as much from them, and would love to help anyone else who might struggle with needing to quarantine pets.

i've seen people posting for help about similar situations and just wanna scream from the rooftops: the beginning is very daunting and hopeless, but animals aren't like us!!!!!! they do the best with what they got!!!!! if you work hard and keep them clean and develop a routine it'll all work out!!!!! Marshall walked out of there at 6 months a normal happy puppy in desperate need of a haircut.

it's interesting because i've never interacted much with his owners. i don't think they know i'm the one who kept him from losing his mind in there, even though everyone else at the clinic does, and i'm weirdly ok with that. the other day he came in cuz the dummy ate a bunch of meds he wasn't supposed to; the doc brought him to the back and instantly, Marshall rushed right for me. he still remembers me in a good way. there's still love. it's like...one of the few patient relationships i've had that feels truly deeply personal. in retrospect i think he had a bigger hand in healing my relationship with this career and animals in general than i realized at the time.

so thanks for making me quit Marshall. i feel a lot better now.

(i don't have any pics of him from that time (tragic ssd card accident) but he was an overgrown doodle puppy so he looked like this.)

[atlanticcanada]

Long-term absenteeism continues to plague the ranks of the Halifax Regional Police

A newly declassified report presented to the Board of Police Commissioners Thursday presented some numbers and recommendations on how things can be improved.

"We started raising cautionary flags back in 2020 and 2019," said Sgt. Dean Steinburg, president of the Halifax Regional Police Association.

Short and long-term absenteeism among the ranks of Halifax regional police has reached crisis levels says the union.

Long-term absences have increased 259 per cent from 2011 until 2022 and is the equivalent of 55 officers off duty.

“And that's just an average,” said Steinburg. “There's some days were down more than that but rarely that were down less, certainly in the last three to five years type of thing."

These statistics were revealed in a report, shared at the Halifax Board of Police Commissioners meeting Thursday, which examined issues like long-term absences, understaffing and increased mental health claims.

"The absenteeism, the mental health challenges, the trauma has never really been put into a context that is helpful to understand like this, it’s valuable for the board of commissioners to look at,” said Becky Kent, chair of the Halifax Board of Police Commissioners.

Short terms absences continue to climb as well over the past decade, but the report was unable to isolate data to determine whether Halifax police was adequately staffed or understaffed.

The union says if everyone on the short and long-term absenteeism list were back to work, they would be considered adequately staffed but the absenteeism has a ripple effect.

“When we are short these members, through no fault of their own, they’re injured workers but that just means everybody else is doing that much more,” said Steinburg.

Extra duty hours have more than doubled in 2021-22, where Halifax police paid out $585,201 in extra duty costs while in 2022-2, costs increased to $1,253, 340.

But it's unclear if it's adding more stress, as officers volunteer for extra duty.

Chief Dan Kinsella has requested a psychologist be hired on staff, to work with the police and get immediate help in place to prevent longer-term issues.

Kent and the police union are in favour but the police board voted against the recommendation but ultimately council has the last say during the budget approval process.

"Accessing supports like a psychologists and occupational nurses quickly can prevent it from becoming a much bigger issue," said Kent.

The report also made recommendations that were broken down into short, medium, and long-term recommendations, which included tracking of more staffing data. 

To focusing on more preventative mental health strategies to intervening sooner and providing better support for those injured on the job.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/DdHoZja

[offshore-recruitment-services]

The Growing Need in Australian Healthcare for General Practitioners

Although the quality and accessibility of Australia’s healthcare system are well known, there are several obstacles that affect its efficacy. The increasing need for general practitioners (GPs) is one of the most urgent problems. Medical staffing companies in Australia face both possibilities and challenges as a result of this increase in demand. In order to satisfy the demands of healthcare practitioners and guarantee the best possible patient care, it is essential to comprehend these dynamics.

Australia’s Current Healthcare System The healthcare system in Australia provides comprehensive services to its residents through a combined public-private paradigm. Access to necessary medical treatments is provided by the public system, which is financed by Medicare, while individuals who choose for private health insurance have more possibilities in the private sector. Although this system guarantees a high standard of treatment, it also puts a great deal of strain on medical professionals, especially general practitioners (GPs), who are often the initial point of contact for patients.

GP demand in Australia A number of variables impact Australia’s need for general practitioners: Population Growth and Ageing: According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics, there were over 26 million people living in Australia as of 2023, with a sizable percentage of them being over 65.Because older persons often need more frequent and complex medical attention, the need for primary care services is increased by this ageing population.

Management of Chronic Illnesses: In Australia, the majority of fatalities are caused by chronic illnesses including diabetes and heart disease. According to the Australian Institute of Health and Welfare’s self-reported and measured data, more over one in four (29%) Australian individuals had either CKD, diabetes, or CVD. One percent (182,000) fulfilled all three requirements, and seven percent (1.2 million) had at least two. Demand is further increased by the significant reliance on GPs for the management of these illnesses.

Mental Health Services: In order to diagnose and treat mental health conditions, general practitioners are essential. The need for GP services in mental health has increased due to rising awareness and diagnostic rates. Rural and Remote Areas: Nearly 60% of Australians living in rural areas lack access to specialists in their area, while 20% of people living in remote locations lack GP services nearby, according to the Australian Institute of Health and Welfare.

Let’s examine how recruitment agencies are affected by the growing demand for GPs.

Current Australian General Practitioner Staffing Trends

Australia’s GP hiring practices are changing to accommodate the rising demand in a number of significant ways:

Tenens Locum: Temporary physician placements, or locum tenens, are becoming more and more common. This concept gives GPs flexibility and addresses short-term staffing shortages by allowing them to work in various places for brief periods of time. In rural and isolated locations, locum tenens occupations — like locum RMO (Resident Medical Officer) jobs in Australia — are very beneficial.

Telemedicine: Especially during the COVID-19 epidemic, the use of telemedicine services has increased access to general practitioner care. In 2023, 25% of all GP consultations were telehealth consultations, which relieved some of the strain on in-person services.

Incentives for Rural Practice: The government provides monetary incentives and increased Medicare rebates to general practitioners who agree to practice in underprivileged areas in order to alleviate regional disparities. The goal of these actions is to balance the distribution of medical professionals.

The Needs and Prospects of Australian Healthcare

In the future, it is anticipated that Australia’s need for general practitioners would only increase. A number of changes and demands require the healthcare system to change:

Increased GP Training: A research released by the Australian Medical Association (AMA) states that by 2031–2022, Australia will have a shortfall of around 10,600 general practitioners (GPs), since the number of GPs available cannot keep up with the rising demand from the community. The demand for medical services rose by 58% in the ten years leading up to 2019 — enough to cover the workload of 10,200 full-time general practitioners. Only the equivalent of 4,200 full-time general practitioners were recruited to the workforce in the five years leading up to 2021.

Integration of Telehealth: Telehealth’s role is anticipated to grow, offering more complete treatment options and relieving pressure on conventional medical institutions.

Improved Recruitment Techniques: In order to draw in and keep GPs, recruitment firms will need to use creative techniques. This entails providing work-life balance programs, career development opportunities, and competitive pay.

Principal Difficulties Despite these initiatives, Australia continues to face a number of GP recruitment issues:

Ageing Workforce: A National Library of Medicine article from The National Centre for Biotechnology Information claims that the workforce of general practitioners has gotten considerably older. It was predicted that 43% of general practitioners and 56% of specialists will have retired between 2000 and 2025, respectively.

Recruiting New GPs: It is necessary to increase the appeal of general practice among recent medical graduates. This entails raising pay, offering chances for job advancement, and putting in place strong support networks. Balancing Urban and Rural Supply: Reducing the gap between urban and rural GP distribution is still a major obstacle. Ensuring fair access to healthcare requires effective policies and incentives.

How Recruiting Agencies Can Benefit from IMS People Possible

We at IMS People Possible are committed to tackling these issues with customised solutions since we recognise how difficult healthcare hiring can be. In order to guarantee that healthcare facilities have access to qualified general practitioners when needed, we offer expert offshore recruitment services for both permanent and locum tenens roles. We source competent individuals from all around the world by utilising our vast worldwide network, guaranteeing a consistent supply of healthcare experts to suit Australa’s expanding demands.

In conclusion

here are opportunities as well as challenges associated with the growing need for general practitioners in Australian healthcare. Healthcare institutions should make sure they are prepared to satisfy patient needs by comprehending these dynamics and implementing strategic recruitment initiatives. In order to help close the gap and guarantee a strong and efficient healthcare system, IMS People Possible, your healthcare staffing partner, is dedicated to assisting these initiatives through our expert offshore recruitment services.

[hareofhrair]

I think there’s a handful of reasons, most of which go back to op’s “changing times” point.

First of all, as an autistic person who watches sitcoms and who, maybe more relevantly, moved around constantly growing up, I’ve always longed to be a “usual” somewhere. It’s such an unambiguous expression of social inclusion. Someone saying “can I get you the usual?” Might as well be saying “hey, you’re a part of my community. I’ve made space in my memory for you. I recognize your personhood and find your presence in my life to be, at worst, neutral. To me, you belong here.” Now I’ve thought about it too much and I think if anyone ever smiled at me and offered me the usual I might burst into tears, which would probably be a bit awkward, lmao. I might be a very lonely person.

But not uniquely lonely, which brings me to my first real point. I’ve heard people talking about a “male loneliness epidemic” but frankly theres a loneliness epidemic period. I blame capitalism, as per usual, which is highly incentivized to encourage isolation.

From segregated marketing strategies that seek to divide market segments from each other as firmly as possible, to short sighted self destructive policies such as lean staffing intended to create the appearance of exponential growth.

Anti union sentiment both subtle (such as discouraging employees from socializing with each other during work hours) to the markedly less so (ie commission, gig, and contract type policies that encourage workers to see each other as the competition), resulting in a worker-hostile job market where hours are long and frequently unreliable, and vacation days are few to nonexistent. Down to the simple fact that close knit communities share things, while communities that are more atomized all have to buy their own products. Not to mention how much easier it is to sell people junk you promise will fill the hole in their lives and make everyone love them when they’re critically deprived of the integral, physical human need for connection.

Well socialized people aren’t good for capitalism. Strong communities capable of unified action are downright bad for capitalism. So it’s been doing its best to convince us that paranoid isolation is both the natural human condition and also a patriotic symbol of American Individualism since the 50’s.

(This is not to ignore the element of the propaganda which was pitting said American Individualism as righteous opposition to Eeevil Russian Capitalism, meaning the government was pushing it for their own reasons and the advertisers then gleefully harnessed that nationalism for their own purposes and so on and so forth)

Another point against capitalism— the ubiquity, ease, and undercut prices of franchise restaurants have been doing their best to drive friendly local places where everybody knows your name fucking extinct for a very long time. Your local deli can’t compete with a multinational corporation who can afford to take a loss on every burger they sell because their entire supply chain is a kaleidoscope of human atrocity. The ones that hang on generally do so by being twice as scummy and exploitative as McDonald’s. High employee turnover means no one working there has been around long enough to notice who’s a regular and who isn’t, and shit pay for garbage hours gives them precious little incentive to care. If you *do* manage to be recognized as a regular these days, something exceptional has to have occurred, and it’s decidedly unlikely to last.

Throw the pandemic on top of that, and the isolation ramps up from “Alaskan lighthouse keeper who comes into town for jerky and the latest issue of Playboy once a month” to “marooned castaway on an island approximately the size of a walk in closet who has spent the last six months assigning individual names, backstories, and complex political beliefs to all of his remaining teeth.”

But it’s not just capitalism’s fault. There are other factors (which yes lead back to capitalism the minute you look too hard but shh).

A degree of this assumption is coming from a heightened sense of social anxiety from autistic people themselves, who tend to have both a neurochemical inclination and a very rational conditioned assumption that they are doing something wrong and weird literally always, thus everyone that’s ever seen them finds them creepy and/or annoying, and therefore any acknowledgment of their existence must be either subtle mockery or white knuckled faux politeness concealing barely restrained contempt. RSD is a bitch even when it’s not being consistently reinforced by people’s actual objective reactions to your clinical Weird and Off Putting Disorder.

But I don’t think it’s entirely autistic people in that bucket. This is more conjecture than even the rest of this post, but I feel like technology and culture have come together in a particularly toxic combination in the last two decades. Take the leering big brother of omnipresent social media, add the effortless availability of instantaneous world wide streaming video, and toss in the pendulum on the “moral conservatism vs liberal permissiveness” clock swinging back towards Calvinist hysteria right on schedule, and you’ve got essentially the precise cocktail you’d cook up in a lab if you wanted to induce intense social anxiety in as many people as possible. People who are scared that being a regular at their favorite restaurant makes them a freak aren’t autistic, they just have the completely rational fear that at literally any moment a stranger with a few million followers could record their mildest social faux pas and upload it to tik tok with a funny caption and a viral pop song, and literally ruin their lives.

So, to sum up. After decades of capitalism systematically isolating people, the pandemic happens and now half the population has gained a new and intimate understanding of the term “depersonalization,” and a whole generation of young people have grown up with little to no actual framework for what is normal social behavior. Sitcom style friendly local restaurants are an endangered species, because high turnover franchise places are economically dominant and no one working minimum wage at a job they got last week and probably won’t have in three months is trying to keep track of regulars. And during the time when they are most desperate for social inclusion and a sense of belonging, everyone is cripplingly aware that they are constantly being watched and judged by people who would jump at the chance to trade a stranger’s dignity and privacy for the chance to go viral. So, autistic or not, they over analyze and criticize themselves for every potentially “cringey” action, and then make a sarcastic relatable post about it, knowing the other debilitatingly insecure autistic folks will get it, and not anticipating that a bunch of non autistics who are also gripped by paralyzing social anxiety— due to the very real threat of someone finding that one video they uploaded eight years ago of them singing ABBA into a hair brush with their grandparent’s wall of confederate memorabilia in the background— would see it and think “oh shit! I do that! Does that mean I’m autistic?? Oh god have the baristas been laughing at me for ordering the same coffee this whole time? Ahg I’m so boring and stupid! What if one of them posts about it?? I’m going to end up on fucking kiwifarms because I’m too stupid and autistic to change up my coffee order!!!”

Here's an example of some of that shifting frame I'm talking about, as we truly enter the 21st, and leave behind the 20th Century. This is actually a really normal interaction that you see in 20th century media. Most people my age and older understand it as completely normal and it is not seen as autistic.

I have had to reassure any number of people that asking for the same beverage two visits in a row, and or being a regular at a specific restaurant, is not weird.

Maybe it is weird now. I don't know.

But it would not have been considered weird at ANY point during the majority of my lifetime. You will see this kind of an interaction in a majority of 20th century sitcoms. Probably even later ones. But I suspect that the people the most worried about this, are not in the media consumption silo that would show this. Sitcoms will show this, but lots of the most socially anxious people do not watch sitcoms. (I've noticed this for ages.)

"The Usual" is actually NOT an inconvenience to shopkeepers.

[unogeeks234]

SAP HR Position Table

Understanding the SAP HR Position Table: Your Key to Organizational Data

In the intricate world of SAP Human Resources (HR), the Position table is pivotal in structuring and managing your organizational hierarchy. Think of it as your company’s blueprint, holding information about job roles, reporting lines, vacancies, and more. Mastering this table is crucial for HR administrators and anyone who needs to analyze workforce data in SAP.

What is a Position?

In SAP HR terms, a “position” doesn’t just refer to a job title. It’s a distinct element within your organizational structure, encompassing:

Job Description: The core duties, responsibilities, and requirements.

Organizational Unit: The department or team where the position resides.

Superior Position: The position to which this one reports.

Vacancy Status: Is the position filled or open?

The Core Table: HRP1001

The primary table where position data is stored is HRP1001. Let’s break down some essential fields within this table:

OBJID (Object ID): A unique identifier for each position.

SHORT (Short Description): A concise description of the position.

OTYPE (Object Type): Always ‘S’ for positions.

BEGDA (Start Date): The date the position became valid.

ENDDA (End Date): The date the position became obsolete (if applicable).

PLANS (Position Number): A numerical identifier.

HRLNK (Superior Position): Links the position to its direct superior in the hierarchy.

Exploring Relationships

The position table doesn’t exist in isolation. It has relationships with other vital tables:

HRP1000 (Objects): Provides additional attributes about positions.

PA0001 (Personnel Actions): Tracks changes to positions over time (e.g., holder, reporting changes)

HRP1008 (Fields): Contains critical information like the position’s personnel area or cost center.

Practical Applications

Why should you care about the position table? Here are some essential use cases:

Reporting: Generate reports on headcount, vacancies, cost center distribution, etc.

Organizational Design: Analyze reporting lines and make structural changes.

Staffing: Link open positions to recruitment processes.

Authorizations: Use position data to control system access based on roles.

Tips for Working with the Table

Use Transactions: PP01 (Object Maintenance) and PO13 (Organizational Structure) provide a user-friendly interface for working with positions.

Understand Relationships: To get comprehensive data, you’ll often need to query multiple related tables.

Learn ABAP: Basic programming knowledge will be a tremendous asset if you need custom reports or modifications.

The position table is the backbone of your SAP HR organizational structure. By understanding its structure, relationships, and applications, you’ll be able to manage and analyze your workforce data effectively.

You can find more information about  SAP HR in this  SAP HR Link

 

Conclusion:

Unogeeks is the No.1 IT Training Institute for SAP HR Training. Anyone Disagree? Please drop in a comment

You can check out our other latest blogs on  SAP  HR here – SAP HR Blogs

You can check out our Best In Class SAP HR Details here – SAP HR Training

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[bobbie-robron]

Classic ED schedule - week 36 (2023)

Charity ingratiates herself to Tom by planning a lavish party to get the villagers on his side. Pollards wants in on the profits from Steph’s shenanigans. Zoe gets a letter/photos from an ex-girlfriend and after having dinner with Ashley and Laurel, realizes how isolated and lonely she’s now. Tom offers Charity the spare room for the night after she has a physical altercation with Cain. Chas gets her job back when the Woolie is short staffed. Chas becomes Charity’s confidante about her plans to snare Tom. Zoe asks Scott to be Christopher’s godfather and share a kiss. The joys of being awful parents draws Chas and Carl together. Danny and Syd get a third roomie - Chas. Zoe wants companionship with Scott. Robert tells Jack he’s considering moving to Leeds. Finally, Robert and Katie come clean to Andy they are in love and later Andy pulls a shotgun on them. Zoe goes away to Brussels with Jean. Andy outs Katie and Robert’s affair at the pub.

UK START TIME FOR THE WEEK is 1:40PM

03-Sep: 26-Apr-2004** (3723), 27-Apr-2004 (3724)

04-Sep: 28-Apr-2004 (3725), 29-Apr-2004 (3726)

05-Sep: 30-Apr-2004 (3727), 02-May-2004** (3728)

06-Sep: 03-May-2004** (3729), 04-May-2004** Robert/Katie come clean to Andy (3730)

07-Sep: 05-May-2004** (3731), 06-May-2004** Andy outs Robert/Katie in the pub (3732)

**Robert appears in the episode

NEXT WEEK: Andy talks of killing Robert. Charity has two Kings interested in her. Sadie King debuts arriving in a helicopter. Tom’s party takes place. Daz is back at Andy’s. Carlos Diaz returns briefly. Andy shoots Jack!

Snippets:

02-May-2004:

04-May-2004:

05-May-2004:

06-May-2004:

[melbourneeternity]

Respite Care - An Option for Family Caregivers

Caregiving for a loved one takes an emotional, physical and mental toll on primary caregivers. Respite care is an option for family caregivers that can help them avoid burnout and take a well-deserved break.

Respite care can be provided at home, in adult day care programs and residential or nursing facilities. It can range from just a few hours a week to several weeks at a time.

Taking Care of Yourself

Caregiving is one of the most difficult jobs out there, and it’s important to recharge your batteries. Whether that means taking a day off to relax, having a spa treatment or simply going for a walk — it all counts as self-care and can help you feel better when you return to your regular caregiving duties.

Many family caregivers find that they’ve lost touch with their friends, and respite care can offer an opportunity to reestablish connections and enjoy social activities. Some senior living communities have a community calendar with monthly events, and some adult day services and short-term nursing homes also host local gatherings.

Ask around to find out what options are available in your area, and if you’re comfortable, involve your loved one in the interview process for the people who might be coming into their home or staying with them at a facility. Dependent care flexible spending accounts and Medicare Advantage plans may cover respite care, so do your research to get the details.

Taking Care of Your Loved One

In-home respite care provides a chance for caregivers to take a break. It can be provided by volunteers or by paid carers who offer help with activities of daily living and household chores, including meal preparation and shopping. It also can involve supervised visits with friends or family members.

Group respite care is available at adult day care centers, senior community centers, or other facilities that provide supervision and socialization for people who need it. Caregivers can visit several programs before choosing one, and make sure that the ones they select are licensed, reputable, well-staffed, and safe.

Many seniors who need respite care feel isolated at home and enjoy being in a different environment. They may be thrilled to have someone to talk with, share activities, and provide them with a change of scenery. A few days or even a week with a trusted provider can give them the energy and confidence to continue caring for themselves.

Taking Care of Other Responsibilities

Respite care can be a formal arrangement between caregiver and respite care provider or it can happen on an informal basis, as when a family member, friend, church group, or other community organization provides a few hours or days of assistance to help a primary caregiver get some rest. In-home respite care can take many forms and is often a more affordable option than long-term home care or assisted living.

During respite care, clients receive the following services:

Some types of home-based respite care may also provide other supplemental benefits for the client, such as transportation to medical appointments, meal preparation or shopping, light housekeeping or laundry, and general companionship. These supplemental services can make respite care more accessible to individuals with limited incomes and those without health insurance. Some supplemental respite care services are even available through employer-based dependent care flexible spending accounts or Medicare Advantage plans.

Taking Care of Your Health

Respite care can take a variety of forms. It may be as simple as a daily phone call with a friend while your loved one is supervised, or it could involve a professional caregiver coming into your home to take over your responsibilities for a week. It can also take place at an adult day care program or residential facility, such as a nursing home.

It’s important to research the options in your area and consider your loved one’s specific needs. If possible, include your loved one in the interview process with potential caregivers and ask them questions about their experience.

Some respite care Victoria services can even help with household tasks and transportation. If your loved one has medical needs that require professional nursing skills, be sure to look for a respite care provider who has those qualifications. This will ensure your loved one is receiving the best possible care while you’re gone. You can learn more about respite care by contacting your local Area Agency on Aging or visiting their website.

[sovereignsaside]

The World As I Hope It Could Be

From The Weekly Firebrand (Thrane) Special Edition, 15 Rhaan, 999 YK

SILVER CELEBRATION ROCKS KHORVAIRE

The world is collectively breathing a sigh of relief and a shout of triumph due to the recent revelations by the Church of the Silver Flame. Since the initial declaration of the “Flaw in the Flame”, the history of the “Luminaries”, and the harrowing tales of the “Last Luminary” and the “Living Luminary” saving our world, over a hundred such heroes have been identified.

A source verified to work for the Brelish royal family was willing to speak to this reporter on the condition of anonymity. “King Boranel has not publicly aligned Breland with the Silver Flame…yet. He is privately speaking with high ranking members and has promised a very public show of support if in fact the rumors are proven true that one of his ancestors was in fact a Luminary. My impression? They think he’s not being serious. They are mistaken.”

A spokesman for Queen Aurala ir’Wynam released a statement yesterday. “Aundair typically holds its faith in learning over religion, though our people are free to believe whatever foolishness they would like. However, these recent stories do come with receipts, showing that much of our nation owes a debt to the Silver Flame and its Luminaries, far beyond the simple Tax Exempt status we provide them now. For the time being, a door has been opened between our people.”

Vedim ir’Omik, Karnathian Minister of the Dead, has promised to bone up on Luminary history. “There has always been power in death, this is the only true fact of life. We are perhaps not as different as the so-called ‘Purified’ have implied. We respect the Luminaries’ willingness to go to any lengths for power, and out of professional curiosity are impressed that they can achieve so much strength by the death of so few.”

New Cyrian Prince Oargev ir’Wynarn had a much brighter view of events. “Faith has been in short supply for our people since the Mourning. Of the precious few of us who remain, isolation makes it difficult to believe in anything. Suddenly the stories, myths, and local legends we grew up loving, the very culture we assumed would be impossible to maintain without our home intact, now makes us feel like we are a part of this world again. The Purified and unpurified alike now feel a kinship for each other and for the rest of the world. Walking the streets, I’ve seen smiles on the faces of my people, and children at play for the first time in years. I thank the Keeper, the High Cardinal, and the Luminaires for sharing their stories and giving my people hope, and faith. Faith in themselves as much as in something bigger.” 

Statements of praise, celebration, and personal victories from Thranish officials have been too numerous to list here. Perhaps wisely, we’ll simply say they’ve been absolutely thrilled.

PARADE BREAKS OUT IN FLAMEKEEP

A contingent of paladins leading the Living Luminary Shenron Lheri through the city to be received by Keeper Jaela were joined by well wishers in a display that quickly turned into a city-wide party. Musicians, dancers, and children wearing Luminary costumes joined in the journey, giving a warm welcome to the beloved monk, leading to a slow moving and joyous parade that lasted for 7 hours. Near the end of the journey, the lead paladin, Brother Fali’ik, was honored by a small child with a puppet in his likeness, shouting “You’re Brother Fali’ik! You’re my hero! I heard that we’re all safe now because the love and trust you put in the Lheri siblings allowed them to save us!” Brother Fali’ik somewhat nervously responded “I…was just doing my job. THAT IS ALL.” and retreated inside, while the Living Luminary hugged the child, laughing.

All Church services for the month in FlameKeep have been crowded to over-capacity, leading to an altered schedule of extra events.

CHURCH OFFICIALS UNDER STAFFED

While the Luminaries have become the talk of the world, it’s hard to not hear the swell of praise for Jeeker Jaela, though slightly more difficult to hear her voice directly.  Church officials are overwhelmed by the show of support, attendance at Church functions, and even donations. At a recent brief interview, the Keeper commented “I thank everyone for their enthusiasm and regret that I can’t be in more places at once. That said, I encourage everyone to remember that the best way to honor these heroes is to step up and help the world yourself. We *ARE* hiring, pretty much everywhere, for pretty much everything. I think it’s - Gerald? Where's the stack of job postings?” This reporter was shorter than the stack of papers.

An unprecedented international inquiry into the history of the Luminaries initiated by the Church is underway by multiple nations intelligence agencies, being spearheaded by Abrexis Wren in a joint effort with the Brelish King’s Wands. We spoke with Lia Bakker, the highest ranking Wand Seer tasked to the effort, for a status update.  “The Church has been extremely helpful in our efforts to learn more about these heroes. Through generous sharing of relics, historical documents, and access to facilities, we have been able to connect quite a few Luminaries to the Forge and the Church, as promised. We’ve even successfully been able to speak to the spirits of some, and in all cases so far what we’ve been told has been true. Great adventures by brave heroes, who in the end volunteered to make a noble sacrifice for our world by stepping into the Flame to fight the Shadow. It’s astonishing and humbling.”

Cardinal Krozen has praised these efforts, while promising that the Church would make sure to expand its usual outreach programs. “The Luminaries are and have been our true protectors, without whom we would not be here today. They are the best of us, and prove that there is nothing we can not accomplish together. But we need more like them to truly help those in need around the world. All it takes is will, and time.” When asked about the truth to rumors of a 7th forge being considered deep in the Eldeen Reaches, Krozen smiled and repeated “All it takes is will, and time.”

Story by August O'Shaunessey

[plistaffing]

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[callmebliss]

It's Wednesday my dude

I wasn't sure, I had to ask SALM. It feels like I've been dealing with this longer than I have.

Last night I was asleep by 10, and the prescription cough medicine knocked me the hell out because I didn't wake up until 2, and I drank some water and took two nighttime mucinex cold & flu and conked back out. I think I woke up once more to cough and roll and jump ship from one dreamscape to the next, but when I did finally awaken in the daylight I thought, "Hm, feels like it's after 10," and grabbed my phone.

12:57 is definitely after 10, that is a fact.

I responded to a text from my supervisor instructing me to call the HR lady, which I did, and she was confused; apparently Bosslady didn't realize I'd already spoken with her yesterday. She was very sweet, and asked if anybody was taking care of me. I laughed and if that laugh was a little bitter she said nothing of it as I pointed out that I have Covid, as does SALM and his daughter, AND we have the two lad!Spawn who DON'T yet have it (praise be to videogames, YouTube, and Discord for keeping them naturally isolated), and who takes care of everybody? Who keeps it all nailed down? So yeah, someone's taking care of me - the same someone taking care of everyone else.

FWIW the Spawn are all pretty good at self-caretaking at this point, so it doesn't take much except to attempt to enforce bedtimes and to rigorously enforce maskwearing outside of their rooms. And SALM is a grownup, not a large child, and responds well to "I am handling This Thing so I need you to make the decision on That Thing without me right now."

After hanging up with HR Lady (who is so sweet she asked if she could bring us food or anything even though she's like 6 towns away and I thanked and refused because I am making due with Instacart but also cannot WAIT to be well again to not have to use it anymore because it is EXPRENSIVE), I made an espresso to deal with the caffeine headache, and stuck a Hot Pocket in the microwave. While it whirred, I drank my cough medicine and marvelled at how it says the dosage is 7.5 ml but there's no half mark between the 7 and the 8 on the spoon, but there IS a 1 1/2tsp hash mark on the other side opposite where the 7.5ml would be. And then I took my first dose of prednisone (a.k.a. steroid) for the inflammation, which goes in stepping-down doses of 6 tablets, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. So today was 6.

I've had to take prednisone before. It makes me get angry and it makes me go speedyfast. I feel like I've been up for hours. It is almost 2pm.

I need to get on Instacart and figure out foods to order for the next few days. It needs to be easy stuff, foods the Spawn can make without me and things that require no prep so I'm not standing over things breathing on it. All I can think of right now are frozen pizza and microwave soups.

Friday is my birthday. I want to order a goddamn cake, but not today.

Bosslady sent me a tiktok, which I watched, and it was a guy from the Boston area i bed talking very very fast about how everyone he knows has covid and he has it for the second time and why doesn't everyone with covid get together for the holiday and have a covid covid christmas and all I can think is does this guy REALLY have covid because he has a LOT of energy right now and then I look back at this sentence and wonder if maybe he, too, is on prednisone. He was weirdly energetic, anyhow, and I didn't enjoy it because I can't decide if Bosslady was trying to make me laugh or if she was being passive-aggressive because she's dealing with short-staffing anyway and now I'm not there and I am her workhorse/powerhouse.

Maybe both? Doesn't matter. I have sick time and my job right now is to not get anybody else sick.

I want to write and have no ideas.

Good mornthing.

[elphiej]

Be My Light - Chapter 4:   The Mad Leader

*Genre: Mafia, angst, eventual smut, slow burn

*Warnings: References to violence, minor assault, 

Author’s note: First off, I’d like to send a special Thank You to someone who was a huge inspiration to me and to this story. This is the chapter that really started it all and I was inspired by @bangtan-sonyeonddaeng  ‘s mafia reaction series. She is a fantastic person and was one of the first people I showed this Be My Light to when I was too scared to post it. She is a beautiful soul and wonderful writer. Thank you for the push. 

Another Big thanks to my editor for sticking with me all this time and into the future. And, of course, to all the people who are reading, commenting, and reblogging this. I can’t tell you all how much is means to me. Thank you all and I hope you enjoy this next installment of Be My Light. (P.S. I have a thing for RM in a long trench coat.)

Tag list:  @lolalalooo @bangtan-sonyeonddaeng, @barbikatherine , @mrsfortune1306 , @lovesick-heart0 , @iamnamjoonsbxtch , @deathkat657 , @deeepvibes , @sugamonster22 , @weiinihao, @hemmofluke , @rainbow-zebra-unicorns , @joyfullyobsessed , @elvencantation , 

                                   Chapter 4: The Mad Leader

              You stared at the cell phone clutched in your hand, your mind spinning with so many questions. Who were those people? Why did talking to this ‘RM’ make you feel like something bad was coming? With that deep, serious tone, were they just as dangerous as the man with the cane? And what kind of normal person calls themselves ‘RM’? Agust was already on the edge of interesting and odd as it was. Scanning over the still lit screen, you wondered what other names were in the contact list. Other than ‘God of Destruction’, the last few calls you could see without going through the device belonged to ‘Mochi’, ‘My Favorite’, and ‘Worldwide Pain in my Ass’. Based on those names, you couldn’t begin to imagine who was gonna match those names.

               It was safe to assume that this RM guy was concerned about the man in the suit trying to finish the job. The hospital had a good security team but you thought it best to talk to Doctor- Henry- to see if more could be done. Your hand paused as it went to put the cell phone back with Agust’s things; if RM or any of the odd named voices tried to contact you for an update, they would most likely call that, instead of trying to navigate the hospital switch board. Figuring it was the best option, you placed the phone safely in your scrub’s pocket as you moved to the bedside for one last check on the patient. Agust hadn’t moved again since right before the phone call and was still as could be. The monitors were all reading normally. There was a blood transfusion line in his arm to help replace what he had lost, along with another IV pushing fluids and medication. You adjusted his arm to make it more comfortable for him once he woke up.

               “I’ll be back to check on you as soon as I can,” you said as you fixed his blankets. “Please, try not to do anything until I get back.”

               You slipped out of the room and pulled the door shut behind you. There was an anxious feeling that crept back into your gut, the same one you felt when you had first heard the gun shots ring out from the silence of the construction site. Your mind had so many thoughts and scenarios running through it that you felt overwhelmed. Things like, ‘what if the man with the cane and rough voice came here? Would he shoot his way through the floors until he found Agust? Were you really as safe as you hoped?’ The hospital had been under a few threats but nothing had ever come from those except words. It would be best to stay as cautious as possible. You had too many friends and patients to not take your feelings seriously.

               As you made your way towards your station, you were surprised to see that Henry was already there leaning over the desk with the phone pressed up against his ear. He pulled a pad of paper from the other side of the desk and started scribbling something down as he nodded and spoke in a low tone to whomever was on the other end. That saves me from having to page him, you mused. Henry did a double take towards you when he noticed you out of the corner of his eye. He beaconed you over with an urgent wave of his hand. The calm yet awkward demeanor from earlier had been replaced with a more serious one. Once you were within an arm’s reach of him, he reassured whomever he was talking to that ‘everything will be taken care of’ and hung up.

               “Good,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I need you to help me.”

               “Henry, about that John Doe patient. I was able to talk to someone close to him. I think we may need to alert the security team about- “

               “I’ve already talked to them. The hospital is going on alert for any suspicious activity entering the hospital. And we are actually moving the patient to one of the private units upstairs. I just got off the phone with the director and we’ve got everything worked out for you so you’ll be safe,” he said over his shoulder as he started walking down the hall.

               “Wait, what does that mean? What do you mean by worked everything out?” You took extra long steps to keep up with his brisk pace.

               “The same person who demanded higher security for that patient requested that you be kept with him as his private staff until otherwise. Which means you’ll be in the secure ward with him in case anything happens. It’s gonna be for the best. You were the first one with him and it’s gonna be more comfortable if he doesn’t have to get acclimated to someone else after all this. Don’t worry, we’ve got it worked out with Jax already.”

               Henry led you back into Agust’s room and made fast work of disconnecting him from the machines that surrounded him. He pulled the IV bags down and placed them on the bed by the still form. Meanwhile, you were frozen at the end of the bed, feeling dizzy from how fast he seemed to expect you to understand what was happening. This wasn’t the first gang related case you had been assigned to since starting at Mercy, nor was it the first gunshot case; why did this sudden change to the routine make you feel ever more nervous? Never had you moved a patient into a secure wing designed from more severe or quarantined patients before just because someone had requested it. Henry called your name to shake you from your thoughts and motioned you to move to the side of the bed as he unlocked the wheels of the gurney and pushed the bed from the wall. As you helped guide it from the room, you couldn’t help but feel the tension grow.

               “So, I am just supposed to stay locked up in some room like a prisoner? And be someone’s private nurse? What about the rest of my patients here? I can’t just leave Amber to tend to them all alone. We are short staffed as it is,” you mentioned as you navigated everyone into the elevator at the end of the hall.

               Henry hit a button and the elevator started to move. He leaned close to look you in the face, his eyes filled with seriousness. “Listen, Y/N, I know this is strange but you just have to trust me. I don’t know all the details but someone particularly important has to be involved to make the director so quick to comply with whatever they asked. But no matter what, your safety is my priority, maybe a bit more than my patients. I’m sure the director thinks that too. Whoever it is must just want to make sure this guy has the best care possible. And when he gets here, he’ll probably want to hear from you what happened. And if whatever gang did this does try anything, I don’t want you to worry because no one is going to get to him or you. Only the director, you, and I will have access to this room or know where he is. Apparently, the man the director talked to said he would have a way to get a hold of you and prove his identity to gain access. I know how you are, Y/N, you are a great person. That’s why you’re so good at what you do. But don’t think that you are inconveniencing anyone; Jax has already rearranged everything and made some calls. I really need you to think about yourself now. And what is best is for you is to do what I am asking and not over think this right now.”

               Henry was being so sincere that you couldn’t find the voice to make any arguments. You gave him a weak nod and tried to take what he said to heart. As Amber had pointed out before, one of your qualities was that you put others well before yourself. Hence, why you were in this predicament. As the doors opened onto the new floor, you promised him that you would try.

               The door opened onto a floor where the more severe, long term patients were kept. This floor could, also, be used for quarantining or the more delicate of patients. At the moment, you knew it had only a few occupants: a coma patient, a patient suffering from extreme burns, and someone from the psych ward that needed more focused attention. To enter this ward, you needed a key card, making this more isolated than your full and frantic floor. Henry commented there was no record that Agust had been moved in any of the files. And if anyone tried to look him up, it would be like he never existed. The person who had called to make all this happen had said he’d contact you and that he and his colleagues were to say they were here to perform community service if asked by anyone else. Apparently, they deemed it as security protection. Henry had you swipe your ID to gain access to the floor and you made your way down the silent hall to the vacant room Henry had staked out for you to stay in. The room was bigger than the one you were used to on your floor. There was a small couch across from where the bed was to go, a private bath off near the entrance, and even a TV in the corner. There was, also, a small recliner near where the head of the gurney was to rest. You imagined you’d be there most of the time. Henry helped you set everything back up in the room and did a quick check on the patient after he was secured in his new residence.

               “Hopefully, he’s gonna wake up a bit soon. He’s reacting well to what I’m doing,” Henry commented as he checked Agust’s pupils constrict as he shined his pen light in them. He gave some instructions about his IV and transfusion processes. He gave you a quick run down of the floor in case you needed anything. “Until he wakes up, I guess feel free to do whatever in here. It can be like a mini vacation. You know, if you ignore all the weird stuff happening. You can watch some TV or order some food. The mysterious man said to spare no expense when it came to our patient or you. I promise by Friday this will be all over and we can go out and talk about nicer things. Okay?”

               Before you could stop yourself, you felt your cheeks get hot and you turned your eyes to the floor. This was not the best place for this, but you knew Henry did it to only ease the anxiety you were feeling. He was almost too perfect. Henry promised to check in once he had finished his rounds as he left from the room and pulled the door shut behind him. You heard the security lock click into place, knowing it would only open from the inside or if you had an ID card. You allowed yourself to drop into the recliner, allowing everything to wash over you. Paranoia was thick in the air as you tried to make sense of everything. Henry was right; whoever these people were they must just want to talk to you and this was easier than scouting the halls. But the thought did very little to chase the nervousness away. Your hands started to rub together out of tension, squeezing your fingers, cracking your knuckles one by one with your thumbs. You took a few deep breaths as you tried to force yourself out of the impending panic. Your eyes looked over at the bed. You tried to remind yourself that you needed to keep it together and be strong for him. Then your eyes landed on his hand. You remembered when you were hiding behind the counter when the man with the cane was getting closer and closer. And when Agust had reached over and squeezed your hand. In that moment, he gave you reassurance with such a small gesture, not thinking of himself. You remembered how genuine it felt. It’d be nice if you could do that now, you thought with a weak smile.

               Instead, you settled for forcing yourself to think of something else. You read through his charts, tapped through some news on your phone, and tried to people watch out the window behind the couch. The afternoon sun had started making its way towards the horizon; how quickly the day had ended up flying by. You had decided against turning on the television for now, thinking how awkward it would be for him to wake up to you watching some trash TV show. You tried walking around the room to get a sense of where you’d be staying for the foreseeable future. But all of that only killed twenty minutes and you were still stir-crazy. There wasn’t much you could do for Agust at the moment, except allow him to rest without you trying to hold his hand or anything else.

               Suddenly, there was a buzzing in your pocket; it was Agust’s phone. You were a bit ashamed at how quickly you reached for it. There was a new text message. It was from a new named contact: Sunshine. The preview of the message said, ‘To Miss Nurse’, making your assumption that the people on the other end would have expected you to keep the phone on you correct. And since it was addressed to you, you didn’t feel too bad about opening the phone again. You swiped open the text and tried not to scroll anywhere higher into their previous chats.

-          Sunshine: To Miss Nurse. if you see this, please take good care of our Hyung. And if he gives you any trouble, tell him I said to behave. RM should be almost there. He tends to speed.  

               There were a couple silly emojis next to it that made you smile. Surely, they can’t be bad people if this is how they communicate. They must be close friends. Though, you still wondered how they had gotten the director to do all this. Maybe there was someone else doing all of this? You shook your head and typed a quick message back, so not to have them worry.

-          I’ll take good care of him. That’s my job.

You really hoped Agust didn’t mind you messing with his phone. Though, you figured it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission in this scenario. There was no response which made you think that it was all he needed at the time. Gazing at the clock on the phone, you had wasted thirty minutes in the room so far. You thought of your backpack in the locker room a few floors down and some of your things at your stations that you could pass the time with. Since Agust was secure here, you thought it may be a good idea to gather some things to help you waste time until this RM shows up. It was unlikely that Agust was going to wake up yet, and you could be fast so he wouldn’t be alone for long. You slipped the phone back into your pocket and rose from the chair, heading for the door. You cast one more look at the still figure in the bed before dimming the lights and pulled the door shut behind you.

               You set off at a brisk pace for the elevator and took it down a few levels to where the staff locker room was kept. You raced in, pulled your bag from your locker, and left before anyone noticed you. You were sure since the director had put the whole hospital on alert that everyone was making rounds to keep eyes everywhere. You hoped grabbing your stuff from your station was just as easy; you weren’t sure about how to explain why you had suddenly deserted your station. Amber wasn’t there but you could hear her and Jax talking loudly from a back room. You wanted to talk to your best friend, to help ease some nerves and have her tell you exactly what you needed to hear. But you didn’t want to wait around or take her away from her new workload. You pulled open the drawer where you kept some personal items, incase of slower work days, and shoved them into your bag. You froze when your fingers hit against something that you knew, instantly, should not be in your bag. Peering into the opening, your eyes locked onto a metallic, black, studded object that you had seen earlier that morning.  

              The gun Agust had placed in your hand.

             How did that get in there? You didn’t remember grabbing it unless it had happened in the chaos of the EMTs and police rushing to assess the situation. Well, if you weren’t already anxious, this just made it worse. Let’s just add this to the ever-growing list of stupid things I’ve done today, you berated yourself. You brought a potentially loaded gun into a hospital. You needed to get back up to the room and get this out of your possession. Maybe when this RM got there, he could take it from you. You pulled the bag shut and slugged it over your shoulder, trying hard not to think about it.

            You moved away from the desk and down the hall towards the elevator. But as you stepped into the silent hall with all the doors closed, one was not closed as it had been when you left; the room where Agust had been. And there was someone looking inside. There was a man, tall and stocky, and dressed in a simple navy uniform. He wasn’t a part of the hospital staff and you didn’t think he was there to clean the room with the lights still off. Trying to stay as unnoticed as you could, you took longer strides towards the end. As you passed behind him, you peered beyond him into the pitch blackness of the room to just make out another figure lurking there. He wasn’t dressed in the same way as the man in the door. He was in darker colors that you couldn’t make out and wore what looked like a fedora on his head. What caught your attention as you passed, was the small peek of icy, blue hairs that were just visible on the side. A deep grumble that sounded from the room made your breath catch in your throat, and made you stop in your tracks. It sounded so familiar to the sadistic voice from this morning. The man with the cane had gotten into the hospital?! How, they upped security measures, hadn’t they? Maybe it was your imagination playing with you with all the stress. Not wanting to stick around to figure out if you were right, you tried to get away before they had noticed you.

            But, sadly, you weren’t that lucky.

           “Excuse me, nurse. Perhaps you can help me.”

           You felt your whole body stiffen as the voice was all to clearly the one that had stalked you from beyond the counter. The voice that dripped with crazed malice and venom as he called out for Agust, that had taunted and tried to lure him out. The voice that you were sure would haunt your dreams. It was the man with the cane, though he didn’t have it now. As you turned, he looked nothing like the half-crazed man yelling and destroying things around him. He looked almost normal, save for the fake smile he had plastered across his lips. He was no longer dressed in the light blue suit and fur coat you had caught a glimpse behind the counter, but in a simple dark blazer and trousers. The man who lingered in the doorway had come to stand next to him as they walked up to you, dressed in a police uniform. His uniform cap was pulled low to obscure his face, though you could see bruising and swelling through the shadows. Both of them gave a slight bow to you.

           “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Inspector Taop, this is officer Chen. We are here following up on a patient that was supposed to be brought here. I’ve been looking everywhere, but no one has an answer for me whether he is here or not. And I haven’t seen a single worker on this floor.”

           He had never seen you at the scene so you knew he didn’t recognize you, or could see that you didn’t believe anything that was coming out of his mouth. That would help you, you decided. You took a deep breath and tried to hide the fear and nervousness. Just act normal. Try to stall until someone comes around.

           “Sorry, officer, we’re a bit understaffed as it is. What can I help you with?”

           “I’m looking for a patient that was brought here. Gunshot victim, a young man, brought in this morning?”

           “Can you be a bit more specific? We are a hospital. Do you know how many young men we have come in here with some kind of bullet wound? I had six this month.”

           You saw the smile slip and irritation rise in those cold eyes. He cleared his throat, trying to hold on to his polite composure. “This one would have come in this morning. There was a shooting downtown. He would have had multiple gunshot wounds. One nurse said he was brought in by ambulance this morning, but then another said that they found no record of him. And the last person I talked to sent me here. Please, this is very important.”

           “Can I see your badge, sir?” He looked completely off guard by the question. You, also, seemed confused. It had just jumped out of your mouth before you realized it. But it seemed like the right thing to ask. You continued, “There’s been a threat made to the hospital, you see, and I need to make sure that everything is in order. I would get in trouble if I gave such information about any patient to an imposter.”

           You could see the wheels in his head turning. But you didn’t expect him to nod his head, understandingly, and reach into his pocket to hand you a leather, bifold wallet. Was this psycho really a police officer? How could someone so vile be in law enforcement? You thought back to what little memories of your father that you had lingering in the back of your mind and couldn’t begin to imagine him doing anything like what this man had done, no matter how bad of a criminal they were. Before you could think, your body seemed to act on it’s own again and opened the wallet and your eyes started to dance across the metal shield. You weren’t entirely sure what you were looking for at first. Until your eyes caught it and something clicked in your mind. It was a fake, but an exceptionally good fake. Anyone else would have just taken it at face value but something in your mind flashed and screamed that this was a fake like the smile still on the ‘inspector’s’ face. In the reaches of your memory, you remembered running your fingers over your father’s badge, memorizing every detail. And you still did that when you were stressed out; you still had his badge and it was currently in the front pocket of your bag. And you seemed to recall your father teaching you how to identify a real badge from others.

           A sudden anger took hold of you that seemed to spur on some brave part of you. You closed the wallet and handed it back to him, keeping your face neutral to hide that you were even more sure of his act. Maybe it was the dishonor to officers like your father, or that he was trying to get to the boy you had risked a lot to save. And your hard work was not going to waste. “I’m sorry officer. But like I said, we have a few patients that could fit your description. None on this floor at all. And if the other nurses said they have no record of him, I’m not sure what I can do for you. Besides that, if we did have a patient come in with multiple gunshot wounds, I imagine that they’d need extensive surgery and wouldn’t be conscious to answer any questions you could have. And with no guardian to act in their place until they are awake to consent to a line of questioning about a traumatic experience, I can’t let you go any further. You should know that, Officer.”

           The smile was wiped from the man’s face. The uniformed man’s eyes got wide at your declaration and they shifted towards his leader in panic. Taop, or whatever his real name was, straightened up and took a step towards you. He towered over you and the energy radiating from him would have intimidated you into submission. Just like with your ex. But you needed to protect Agust. In any case, all you needed to do was scream and someone would be alerted. There wasn’t much this asshole could accomplish without being found out. But he continued to advance until he backed you up against the wall. Even still, you never broke eye contact with him.

           “I don’t think you understand the situation of this, little girl,” he said, rage tittering on the edge of his voice. “There are some really dangerous people and it would be a shame if you got caught in the crossfires. It’s in your best interest to answer my questions and tell me what I need to know.”

           “Then bring a warrant,” you challenged.

           His hand collided with the wall next to your head, making you jump. His face was so close to yours now, and there was the crazed man you remembered from this morning. Your heart was in your ears. He, suddenly, took a deep inhale then another before tilting his head to the side. “What a brave little girl. Tell me, where were you this morning? Something tells me you may be exactly who I need to talk to.”

           “Hey, back off her!”

           Both you and the man turned to look down the hall towards the elevator towards the source of the deep voice that had interrupted the line of questioning. The doors of the elevator were opened and from them stepped a young man with platinum white hair. His eyes were haunting and strong, like a dragon woken from his peace. He was exceptionally tall, taking long strides towards the scene. You couldn’t help but let your eyes take in the man who was coming to your rescue. Dressed in a dark trouser and a white buttoned up shirt gave him a classic handsomeness, and a long black coat with a hood drawn up that accentuated his height. As he approached, he slid the hood down and swiped his hand up to push the stray white hairs from his face. If you weren’t terrified, you would have appreciated how handsome he was. You glanced back at the man caging you; his body tensed as the newcomer walked up but his face never showed.

           He let out a sigh and a small smile reappeared, but it was not the same he had tried to charm you with. It was one of arrogance.  “Ah, Mr. Kim,” the inspector said, not moving from his position, “how nice of you to drop in.”

          “You’ve got some nerve,” the handsome newcomer said, his tone low and smooth. 

          “What for? Being too formal? Do you not like me using your surname? I’m not sure which name you prefer now; you change names so often, it’s hard to keep up after all this time.”

          “You’re one to talk. What name are you going by now, officer? Here to investigate a fraud? Or are you here to put yourself into more trouble?”

          “Such a negative attitude. Officer Chen and I are here on official business,” the detective flashed his badge at the so named Mr. Kim. “And this nice young lady was willing to help me out with some information. Isn’t that right, Little Girl?”

          “It sure doesn’t look that way coming from the elevator. I think you need to take a step back,” Mr. Kim ordered with a strong but suggestive tone that made you question what kind of power someone as young looking as him could possess.

          The fake detective made no sign that he was planning on heeding the newcomer’s words to move from your personal space. His eyes shifted from Mr. Kim back to you. His stare bore into you sharper than claws and made your breath catch. You weren’t sure if he was trying to scare you into agreeing with him or just threaten you. But Mr. Kim was having none of that; he gave the older man’s shoulder a hard shove and wedged himself in the space between you to keep you away from the other man. Mr. Kim reached a hand behind him and placed it on your arm, to keep you secure behind him and to give you some reassurance that he was not going to hurt you. You couldn’t help yourself, as you fisted your hands into the back of his coat and peered around his massive frame.

          “You always have to play savior, don’t you Rapmon?” The way he had said the name made it seem like he was trying to strike a nerve in Mr. Kim. But the other man gave no sign that he was bothered. “You make it seem like I was doing something unseemly to her. You and your broken boy scouts always turn things difficult. Speaking of, where are the others? Maybe they could answer some questions for me. There’s one in particular I’m interested in seeing. I’m checking up on a victim from a shooting downtown. Just making sure he’s doing alright.”

          “You’re really committed to this bit, aren’t you Choi? Oh, sorry- what name are you going by today? It’s so hard to keep track, isn’t that what you said?” Mr. Kim tilted his head to the side, eyes twinkling with a mischievous shine.

          “What a nuisance you are. I’m just trying to get information to make sure things go well. Though come to think of it, your boys may not know much. Word was that the victim was all alone. Left all by themselves, bleeding and hurt in such a dangerous situation. What kind of friends would let someone knowingly go into that situation alone? Now, I’d really like to finish my conversation with the little lady, Rapmon.” When Choi, as you figured his name actually was, took a step towards you, Mr. Kim moved the both of you to keep you behind him and further away from the other. “Well, since you seem hellbent on keeping me from doing something so simple, I could always ask you. Though to be honest, your being here may have answered my questions.”

          “My being here answers nothing,” Mr. Kim challenged. “Unlike you, I am here to do good for the community. And it’s a good thing I came by when I did. You’re already on thin ice after all the trouble you’ve caused. Imagine what would happen if you caused any problems while on Hallowed Ground. If you were to hurt anyone staying or working here, you would have more than my family looking for you. The rest of the Families would be looking to teach you a lesson. Imagine what most of them will think when they hear about the deceit you pulled this morning. After what I witnessed, you can be sure I’ll have eyes monitoring this place. You will not go against the Accords.”

          “Don’t you lecture me about the Accords, you psycho. I’ve been around just as long as they have and lived them. I taught them to you.”

          “And yet, you only follow them when they suit you. Just like your leader and his before him. But things are different now. They are gone, and your hold is slipping. I have enough pull now to ensure Accords are followed. And if you want to make a further spectacle of yourself, I’ll gladly show you I’m not that kid anymore that you ordered around. You saw what my boys can do when pushed. Try me.”

          Choi started to laugh, eyes shining in disbelief at the younger bossing him around. As you peered around Mr. Kim’s frame, you saw him go to say something to officer Chen, but couldn’t form the word. He raised his hand towards the white-haired man, but let it drop with a growl. Whatever look was set upon the elder made him rethink his next move. He settled for raising his hands in a surrender and jerking his head towards his companion to tell him they were leaving. It surprised you that he was giving up so easily after how he had acted towards you. You weren’t sure what Mr. Kim meant by accords and families, but it was more than obvious that it meant something to them. Glancing up at your protector, his face remained locked in the same stern and serious mask he had when he had appeared. His eyes, perfectly lined and accentuated with makeup that only made him more intriguing, followed the pair as they turned down the hall.

          But before they could get too far, Choi stopped. He turned enough to gaze at the two of you over his shoulder, the dark and manic gleam from that morning flashing like a warning sign. He chuckled before his teasing and taunting voice that had called out to Agust filled the hall like glass shattering. “Look at how far our little maniac has come. Really living up to the title of Mad Leader, aren’t you? He thinks he’s so big and strong that he can just order me around and act like a knight in shining armor to the weak. The Mad Leader’s trying so hard to put up a front, to hide who he is, to hide the other side of the looking glass. But lest he forget, I know things he wouldn’t want others to know. And I seem to recall,” Choi turned fully around and took a full stride back towards Mr. Kim, “you had an issue with places like this. You don’t enjoy being here. Are you falling down the rabbit hole? You even have an Alice this time it would seem. So tell me, Mad Leader, are the walls closing in on you yet? Are you feeling anxious?”

          You could feel Mr. Kim tense up at the name ‘Mad Leader’ each time Choi said it. He took a deep breath, trying to ground himself. He gave you a polite push away from him before fixing Choi with a glare that made officer Chen startle. You could almost feel the air change as he stepped up to be nose to nose with the thug.

          “Since you can’t seem to remember my name, asshole, let me spell it out for you. It’s RM, R to the M. And I’m a motherfucking monster. Keep pushing me. I dare you. You hurt one of my boys. You better pray that he makes it out of all this ok. Or you’ll see just how ‘mad’ I can get.”

          Chen seemed to realize that something bad was building as he took hold of his superior and pulled him away from RM, newly identified. Choi kept the taunting smile spread across his lips as he allowed Chen to lead him away. Before he got too far, he looked over at you and gave a nod, “We’ll be in touch, Little Girl.” And then he disappeared from the floor, leaving you in the presence of RM. You can’t say you had expected this person to belong to the voice on the other end of the phone, but it would seem like that was the theme of the day. The tall man took a few deep breaths and ran his hand through his white hair before turning back to you. The serious mask he had worn had slipped away and was more approachable. He straightened his clothes before returning to your side.

          “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said, “But he shouldn’t be back. He talks a good game but he knows when he’s out done. Did he hurt you?”

          You shook your head. “I can’t believe he got in. The hospital is on lock down.”

          “Well, he’s been around a while. He has his ways. Now that he’s gone, I was hoping you could help me. I’m looking for a nurse called Y/N.” You locked eyes with him and gave him a nod of affirmation. He gave you a smile, showing off a pair of dimples in his cheeks that made him much more innocent and sweeter than the man who had gone nose to nose with the monstrous thug. “That’s a coincidence. Nice to meet you. Can you show me where to go?”

          “Prove that you’re who you say you are,” you said, taking a step away from him. Despite that you were sure he was the one you had talked to, it seemed like nothing was safe. He looked at you for a moment, before coming to a conclusion. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone before letting his finger glide across the screen. A moment later, Agust phone sounded off in your pocket. He glanced over at you with a bemused look as you pulled the phone out and saw the screen lit up with a notification.

-          God of Destruction: It’s me.

          “Sorry,” you said, feeling embarrassed by your sudden suspicion, “but after that guy flashed a fake police badge at me, I just wanted to be sure. Thank you for coming and for helping me. Are you Agust’s brother or a friend?”

          RM’s eyes narrowed when he heard you say Agust and gave you a strange look. His eyes seemed to dance about you, as if he was trying to figure something out. But as quickly as it appeared, the look disappeared and he smiled again. “We usually call him Suga. Only people who don’t like him call him Agust. I don’t think he’d want you calling him that. Can we go see him now? We’ve been worried about him.” You nodded and motioned him to follow you back to the elevator. As you waited for the doors to reopen, he leaned over and whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Hyung you had his phone.”

          “What? Does he have some embarrassing things on here,” you joked.

          “Maybe,” came the reply and heard RM chuckle as he allowed you to step into the elevator.

          You hit the button for the floor that they moved Agu- Suga to, the doors slid shut, and the lift jolted to a start. As the sound of the mechanisms filled the space, you caught a glimpse of the tall man flinch. It seemed odd, seeing as he had just faced off against the most frightening person you had ever seen. The taunting words he had said to RM before leaving came to mind, about not liking it in a hospital. It wasn’t uncommon for people to have bad experiences related to hospitals, so you tried to brush it off. Once you had made it to the secure floor, you led him down the hall. You explained that the floor was only accessible to a few people and how they had followed the directions as specified to the director. The entire time, RM listened very intently, eyes never leaving you. He was the picture of professionalism and sincerity. You swiped the two of you into the ward, and he held the door open for you as you led him down the hall to the room. As you neared the room, you wondered if you were going to survive the present of two very handsome men. Hopefully, the rest of his friends that you heard over the phone were somewhat average.

          As you both entered the room, RM came to a stop in the threshold of the door, his eyes staring at the bed. You could see the worry and panic that you had heard over the phone slip across his face. You reached out and touched his arm. He looked at you with an almost innocent gaze, like he was questioning if it was alright to get closer. You gave him a nod and he was beside his friend in a flash. He looked as if he was debating to reach out to Suga, as if he were made of glass, but settled for taking hold of his hand. RM let out a breath and looked relieved to have finally seen his friend. From your place at the edge of the room, you could see how much one meant to the other and all worries about them being as bad as Choi disappeared.

          “Is he going to be ok? What did they do to him,” RM asked, never taking his eyes off his companion.

          “Dr. Na took good care of him,” you said, reaching for the file at the end of the bed. “He was shot twice, once in the shoulder and on his left side. The gunshot wound on his side appeared to be at close range and the bullet went through. Thankfully, there wasn’t much damage done. The bullet was lodged in his shoulder, but Dr. Na was able to remove it and mend up some of the damage. We’ll know more when he wakes up, but he should have full range of motion after some rest. He, also, has some bruised ribs and a slight concussion. Along with bruising and defensive wounds pretty much everywhere. He, also, lost a lot of blood. He’s in the middle of a transfusion now. But he is responding well to everything and we believe he should be waking up soon. With enough care, patience, and support, he should make a full recovery in no time. Which is amazing; when I found him, I was worried with how much blood he had lost that he may have had a harder road to recovery.”

          RM flicked his eyes over to you. “You found him?”

          “They must not have told you. I was on my way to work when I heard the gunshots. I was the first to find him and get him to safety.”

          RM looked like he wanted to ask more questions, when a soft groan came from the bed and drew the attention. Suga took in a deep breath and his body shifted as if fighting to wake and identify the voices. After a tense moment, his body relaxed and his eyes opened slightly. From the edge of the bed, you could see the glazed and shiny effects of the medication still trying to hold him in the state of unconsciousness, and realized he may not fully be aware of what is happening. But you were sure the presence of RM had drawn him out enough to give them a sign that he was okay. RM called out to his hyung softly, drawing Suga’s attention as he gazed about the room.

          “Hyung, hey, can you hear me?”

          Suga’s eyes fully landed on RM. It seemed as if he was fighting his way to recognition before he gave a small, drugged smile back. “Joon,” his voice sounded exhausted and stained.

          RM laughed. “Yeah, Hyung, it’s me. You’re gonna be okay. You’re safe.”

          “Joonie, I think I’m dead. I saw an angel.”

          The whitehaired man reached out and ran his fingers, gently, through his friend’s hair. “No, Hyung, you’re only tired. That bastard messed you up but you’re gonna be alright now. Why don’t you go back to sleep? The boys and I will be here when you wake up.”

          “Oh,” Suga said, almost sounding disappointed as the drugs started to drag him back to oblivion, “too bad. It was a pretty angel. Prettier than Jiminie and Hyungie combined. But don’t tell them I said that.” And just as fast as he woke, Suga went silent and still again.

[keepingthehopealive]

I'm so beyond burnt out. I am thankful that I still love nursing in that I love working with my patients and their families, but I am so burnt out. Working in healthcare right now is a disaster. We are dealing with upwards of 80-100 calls a day, 90% being COVID exposure or sick calls. I am often getting yelled at and having long conversations with people who either don't understand (valid) or don't want to hear the isolation/quarantine guidelines. We are extremely limited with appts, having to prioritize sick visits and still are turning people away, to urgent cares where there are up to 9 hour waits. There are basically no tests available at the free testing sites, or those waits are hours an hours long . We are short staffed to begin with, providers are all going on vacations and to make things even worse, my boss tested positive for COVID this week so she is out. So that puts me basically as the manager for now and it's brutal. Out manager is trying to push my boss to come back after 5 days with the new guidelines but she is pregnant and sick and cannot work from home so we are on our own for the next week. This is brutal. I'm managing calls as well as setting up 30 ish patients a day, doing COVID vaccines and COVID tests, and then anything else the provider needs (running other tests, paperwork and clerical needs etc etc etc). I am on the verge of tears almost all day, not sleeping and barely eating. This on top of my not stable mental health for the last many months. Self care feels impossible right now. I'm working overtime everyday and have to work a half day today despite the holiday. Oh and I woke up with a headache so gonna test myself today as that was my boss's first symptom.

This interview can't come soon enough. I know the hospital will likely be worse in some ways, but it's still my dream job and I think a change could help. I still love nursing and am trying to remind myself of that and just focus on one moment at a time. This is so hard though.

[gingus-doon]

pov u just shot your childhood hero, wdyd

i.e. i ramble about keiji post-shooting; his occupation, what he does, how he copes, how he feels, etc. etc.

just putting this little thing here because the post got quite long and i couldn't split it up because it's all somewhat related. it started out as a rant / informal ramble but then it got serious lololol

—

one thing i don't understand is why people hc keiji as still having a job with the police post-shooting? like that just doesn't make sense to me– not only based on his character but like... why would you wanna make him a cop with all the talk of how much the police suck lately? personally i'm a brown bitch so i couldn't be down with thirsting over a cop lol. it's just kinda confusing sjdhd

i've seen the hc of him as a private investigator, though, which i like! it's a very neat way to let him flex his detective skills without being part of a corrupt organization and without forsaking his own personal beliefs and feelings about the police, because i don't think those would change anywhere near easily and i just kinda can't see him going back into the police force because of that.

i have often wondered what keiji would do after the death game, and what he was doing before the death game or after the shooting, because i think he'd definitely quit after the shooting, with all the grief and trauma surrounding the job and his newfound cynicism.

i don't think he'd be doing private investigation before the game, or more specifically, before his character develops into something reminiscent of his old self– as he is at the start of the game, he just doesn't have that faith in protection, so i can't imagine him being an investigator at that point. HOWEVER, in a post death game OR non-death game au where keiji has started to pull himself up from that tar (most likely with the help of others lol) i think that's definitely a plausible option for him and i like it a lot :]

as for other options, though... i really don't know! this is more of a stupid idea but i considered him working in a convenience store like shin lol. i had a whoooole au about him, kai, and shin working in the same convenience store just because they can't hold down any other jobs / don't know what else to do for work. shin is able to actually hold down the job because the last manager was mysteriously taken out of commission (i don't know lol) and they were ridiculously short-staffed already so shin ended up being the "most qualified" for the now vacant position. keiji's had a string of odd jobs since the police and this is just the next one. he's hoping to find something with a better wage but this'll do for now, it's even in walking distance from his apartment. and kai, kai's trying to exercise more independence from the chidouins' after becoming his own person! so he gets what i think would be his first job (well, his first official job, anyway... being an assassin and the chidouins' personal maid were more unofficial gigs lol.) ahh that was a lotta rambling about my dumb little au but i just think it'd be neat, they're three of my favourite characters so having them just vibe with each other at work and become friends sounds nice 2 me :] also Coincidentally i ship literally every combination of those three characters so that may have played a part in my casting decisions lmfao

oh wow that was a really long and uncalled for synopsis but this is just a rambly post so it can't really be uncalled for because this post doesn't have any particular point lol (A/N after writing this— IT HAS A POINT NOW, DISREGARD PAST ME)

SO ANYWAY ! i was just considering what keiji would do right after the shooting. honestly i have noooo idea, it's the beginning of a long road of him burying his trauma in a desperate attempt to avoid facing the pain it brings, and it marks a profound loss of innocence which makes his heart begin to grow cold. it's just hard to see the beginning of the process when where he started and where he ended up are very different places.

obviously, he'd quit his job. i wonder if the hallucinations would start right away? him being naïve in the beginning, i'm sure he'd acknowledge them– cry out apologies and plead for forgiveness until his throat is hoarse. the rule of hallucinations in yttd seems to be that if you acknowledge them, they'll burn themselves into your brain and you'll never be rid of them– implying that keiji has done so, as it's likely been years since the shooting and he's still suffering from the visions despite seeming to ignore them now.

ahh, i'm getting in my feelings about keiji now 😭😭 when i started this, i wanted to be held by him, but now i just wanna hug him like damnnnn

but back to what he'd do after the shooting– this scenario is self indulgent, but wouldn't it be nice if he took some time off and just stayed at his mom's place for a while? help her with chores while she's at work, try to regain a sense of normalcy in his childhood home...

i don't think he'd be able to do this right after the shooting. keiji had shame, once upon a time– the guilt would rack him like nothing else. i can imagine him spending a lot of late nights with alcohol, just wishing it was a dream. his resentment towards megumi slowly building as he feels he's being left in the dark as to why, why he isn't allowed to atone, why she's being so cold towards him about the shooting when he's suffering so heavily from the effects of it.

he wouldn't want to be around his dear mom as a murderer, and as a resentful alcoholic who's coping very poorly with his circumstances.

also (tangent incoming), i kind of wonder about keiji and alcohol a lot. in his fondness events with mishima, he says the following—

the "haven't drank that much in years" part makes me wonder– for how long? did he start to restrain himself before the shooting or after? i would say it's most likely after, considering the "feels like it'll swallow me up" comment he made soon after. and, how he talked about binge drinking when he was still a newbie. perhaps it was fine for him to do so, before the shooting— he'd just get wasted and flirt, have a good time. but after, it morphed into an inefficient coping mechanism which he fell far within the depths of to try and control the worst of his grief and self hatred. after that, heavy drinking couldn't just be for fun anymore.

i assume in the "before it got this way" comment, the "way" he's referring to is how he doesn't drink much anymore? or, he could be talking about the depression drinking, but i think the prior makes more sense.

even though i think, given keiji's example of drinking with megumi, that he could have gotten blackout drunk a couple of times purely for fun pre-shooting, i think here he's referring to the painful side of his relationship with alcohol here, the part that took place when he was trying to cope with his trauma. i think he brings up the story of drinking with megumi immediately after, then, to avoid talking about that part of his past. though he doesn't show it much, i think he's deeply ashamed of himself. not only of what he's done, but how he's handled it afterwards.

on a lighter note, though, it's quite funny to think of Lawful Good young keiji shinogi getting drunk off his ass and flirting with every woman he comes across willing to flirt back. like, what's up with that??? he seems like such a serious dork in the flashbacks, but doing well in his police job, he just... lets loose?? no no, honestly i think he hadn't drank much before going out with megumi and he took her insistence on him drinking a little too far, and with his inexperience with alcohol and the successive lack of self restraint that comes with each new drink, you get casanova shinogi, lmao.

BACK TO THE SERIOUS STUFF THOUGH !! i really like the idea of him going to his mom to help him pull himself back together. i think they'd have a solid relationship, fight me! he seems to adore his mom as a child with a good single parent usually does. i'm sure he appreciates her immensely for all the care and love she managed to give him when he was a kid while also working her ass off to support them financially. this very respect for her is what i think would drive him to isolate himself from her after the shooting– as i said above, he's a murderer now. a disappointing human being in general, and an even worse son. to let down his mother who worked so hard to raise him right... how could he? as his condition worsens and his heart grows colder, i'm sure that feeling would fester inside of him. he'd try to ignore it, as he does with everything else, but it's already wrapped its tendrils around his soul. that particular guilt isn't leaving him any time soon.

now that i'm thinking about it, also, i don't think it's likely that he'd quit his job right right away. it'd be more of a slow descent over the span of a few weeks. immediately after the shooting, he may stop showing up to work for a while. he just can't put on that uniform when it's practically caked in the blood of someone he held in such high esteem for so long. eventually, though, he gets a hold on himself– just a bit. he doesn't want to be cooped up in his apartment with his thoughts anymore, and he doesn't want to lose his job. what else would he do?

so, he takes it easy on the first few days back. megumi tries to make it easy for him. paperwork, whatever job he could do that's not on the field. he clings to her like a wounded puppy, hoping that she'll explain why she's covering it up when he doesn't want her to, what he's supposed to do with these feelings around the incident. he's drowning, and she's made herself a big sister figure to him– she's supposed to help him. but, she shrugs him off when he brings it up. she's so harsh about it compared to how she usually speaks to him. perhaps because of her own guilt around the incident, perhaps it's the family's response and how keiji is now, how panicked and sleep deprived the poor kid has looked since that day.

so he continues to spiral with nothing to hold on to. grasps at alcohol in a futile attempt to stop falling, because it's all he can think to fall back on. he's a wreck at work– he's barely living, much less working. but megumi tries her best to keep him from getting fired. she'll get him coffee and breakfast and try to say something encouraging. "hey. hang in there, shinogi." with a touch on the shoulder. but in spite of her efforts, of course, it hits a breaking point. everyone in the job thinks keiji's too damaged to continue, saying he either needs to see a shrink or get the hell out of the way and let everyone else do their job.

and keiji just stops coming into work one day.

the downward spiral ensues.

[atlanticcanada]

'Everything is just on fast-forward' How Halifax became a Canadian tech hub

In early 2021 Simon Cusack sold his house out west and moved to the East Coast with his wife, son and one of Canada's most promising tech startups.

The co-founder of Rafflebox, which runs online raffles and fundraisers, came in search of the ocean, a better work-life balance and Halifax's booming technology community.

"We were very attracted to the startup scene here," said Cusack, who quit his job with Dell Technologies early in the pandemic to focus on Rafflebox full time as chief operations officers. "The support for startups is incredible. Doors started opening for us as soon as we arrived."

Nova Scotia -- once known for its traditional resource industries, aging population and westward migration of workers -- is changing.

Today, the province is home to hundreds of fledgling tech startups and companies, an ambitious training plan and a growing population.

Experts say Halifax's growing tech ecosystem is at the epicentre of the digital shift turning the province into one of the Canada's hottest tech hubs.

They say a growing network of startups, mentorship organizations, venture capital, training programs and government support is encouraging digital innovation, creating jobs and buoying the economy.

"A strong support network is key to innovation," said Ellen Farrell, a management professor in the Sobey School of Business at Saint Mary's University in Halifax. "Isolation is a real problem for startups."

It didn't happen overnight.

Halifax's tech workforce has steadily grown by 24 per cent in the last five years, according to global brokerage house CBRE.

It ranked the city seventh on a list of 25 emerging tech markets in Canada and the U.S., just after Albany, N.Y., and ahead of Providence, R.I., CBRE's 2021 Scoring Tech Talent report said.

Across the province there are now more than 26,000 people working in Nova Scotia's $2.5-billion tech sector, according to the industry association Digital Nova Scotia.

The burgeoning tech community has helped attract big players.

Toronto-based digital entertainment company Wattpad announced plans in late 2019 to open a second headquarters in Halifax.

The company, which is in line to receive payroll rebates from the province, now has 30 employees in the Halifax area and has plans to increase that to 100 people within five years.

"The talent in Halifax is amazing across multiple disciplines," said Allen Lau, co-Founder and CEO of Wattpad. "The talent pool is also very deep, it's not just recent graduates."

But the problem is ensuring there are enough workers to meet future demand.

Take Halifax-based Redspace. The software company, a full-service digital studio specializing in video solutions, saw demand soar during the pandemic.

"Two years of the entire globe stuck at home binge-watching video accelerated the transformation of the industry we've been serving," said Mike Johnston, president and CEO of Redspace.

"Demand has never been more ... strong," he said. "We have been growing and recruiting at a mad pace."

The company has hired 105 people so far this year, bringing the total workforce to about 300. But it's still short 30 to 50 people.

"We are constantly short-staffed," Johnston said. "The salaries have gone up pretty dramatically ... everything is just on fast-forward."

Wayne Sumarah, the CEO of Digital Nova Scotia, said the pace of growth is expected to remain elevated.

"We don't see it slowing down," he said. "Our industry's largest challenge currently is labour."

The solution appears to be twofold: Expanding both the population at large and the tech workforce in particular.

The first is well underway. The province announced last week that Nova Scotia's population hit a milestone of a million people following record growth during the pandemic.

Much of the growth was due to interprovincial migration, with many new residents hailing from Ontario and Alberta -- a reversal of a decades-long trend of people moving away for work.

"After years of a declining population, the world is learning how special Nova Scotia is," Premier Tim Houston said in a statement. "We have momentum and are growing."

To boost the province's tech workforce, the Nova Scotia government stepped up with a solution last spring. It announced $16.8 million in funding to bolster computer science programs at four Nova Scotia universities.

Dalhousie University -- which received $13.3 million -- launched a campaign called Here We Code last month.

The Halifax school said it would double its computer science faculty and researchers and expand its computer science enrolment to more than 2,500 students as part of the campaign.

"Nova Scotia's tech community has been growing for years but COVID has been like jamming the foot down on the accelerator," said Andrew Rau-Chaplin, dean of the computer science faculty at Dalhousie University.

"It's not going to stop," he said. "People are giddy with the opportunities."

The issue is meeting the increasing demand for talent to ensure the tech sector can continue to expand here.

"Every single one of our undergraduate co-op students and 100 per cent of our graduate students with internships as part of their program are placed," Rau-Chaplin said.

"My sense is if we had twice as many students they would all be placed as well."

Rafflebox co-founder Cusack said the skilled workforce emerging from Dalhousie and other post-secondary institutions in Nova Scotia was one of the driving factors to relocate operations to Halifax.

"We really wanted to open up our office here," Cusack said, noting that 13 of the startup's 20 employees are now based in Nova Scotia. "We're hiring another six here in January."

This report by The Canadian Press was first published Dec. 19, 2021.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/3EhDsSI