#but this time the call quality was good and i think i behaved very professionally and said all the polite things like

[an-annyeoing-writer]

SCREAMS

[haggishlyhagging]

Several years ago, I taught an upper-level extension course in a suburban high school. The students were mostly high school teachers, required by their school district to earn periodic graduate credit as a condition of continuing employment. None of the students was very young: Most were in their forties and fifties. Women outnumbered men by about two to one. The women, who tended on the average to be somewhat better students than the men, displayed far less confidence in their ability to master the material. I found this surprising, since the female teachers, authorities in their own classrooms, did the same work as the male teachers, had comparable seniority, similar educational credentials, and, I assume, pay equity. The school in which both men and women taught had an excellent reputation. There is nothing unique about the classroom I am about to describe: I have observed in other classrooms what I observed there. I select this particular class as an example because male and female students were mature and well-matched professionally and because their relationships seemed to be free of the sexual tensions and courtship games that sometimes complicate the relationships of younger men and women.

Though women were in the majority, they were noticeably quieter in class discussion than the men. The men engaged freely in classroom exchanges and seemed quite confident—in view of the quality of some of their remarks, over-confident. Women who did enter discussion spoke what linguists call "women's language": Their speech was marked by hesitations and false starts; they tended to introduce their comments with self-denigrating expressions (“You may think that this is a stupid question, but . . . “); they often used a questioning intonation which in effect turned a simple declarative sentence into a request for help or for affirmation from without; they used "lag" questions which had the same effect (“Camus's theme in The Myth of Sisyphus is the absurdity of human existence, isn't it?”) and excessive qualifiers (“Isn't it true that sometimes, maybe . . . “). This style of speaking, whatever its substance, communicates to listeners the speaker's lack of confidence in what she is saying, and this in turn damages her credibility.

In addition to their style of speech, I was struck by the way many female students behaved as they handed me their papers. They would offer heartfelt apologies and copious expressions of regret for the poor quality of their work—work which turned out, most of the time, to be quite good. While apologizing, a student would often press the edges of her manuscript together so as to make it literally smaller, holding the paper uncertainly somewhere in the air as if unsure whether she wanted to relinquish it at all. Typically, she would deliver the apology with head bowed, chest hollowed, and shoulders hunched slightly forward. The male students would stride over to the desk and put down their papers without comment.

Now every female student did not behave in this way all of the time. Nor is this all that the women communicated. To the casual observer, the atmosphere in the classroom was both relaxed and stimulating: Both men and women took an evident interest in the material and managed a lively exchange of ideas. But, like an organ-point that sounded faintly but persistently all term, something else was detectable too: It became clear to me that many women students were ashamed of their written work and ashamed to express their ideas in a straightforward and open manner. Indeed, it would not be unusual for a student just to say, "I'm really ashamed of this paper," while handing it to me. I have no doubt that these utterances were accurate reports of feeling. At the same time, I suspect that they were rituals of self-shaming undertaken in order to bear more easily a shaming they anticipated from me: An ordeal is often easier to endure if we can choose its time and place. These apologies served also to underscore the students' desire to do well in the course, hence, to get into my good books and, by arousing pity in me for such evident emotional distress, to soften my judgment of their work. Behind a facade of friendliness and informality, two very different dramas of relationship to the teacher were being enacted: The men regarded me as a rival or as an upstart who needed to prove herself; the women, as potentially a very punitive figure who needed to be placated and manipulated.

-Sandra Lee Bartky, Femininity and Domination: Studies in the Phenomenology of Oppression

[reignsbaby]

This is for @diorianna

Hope you enjoy love!!!

(Also let’s pretend that Roman only has 3 kids in this)

Longing for Love

——Joe P.O.V.——

I never thought my life would include a messy divorce with children involved but here I am…and it’s so difficult. I’m fighting for my kids, my home, my life all of it. It all just keeps getting more stressful as days go on. My grey hairs are popping through more and more. I had to find someone to help me. I began to reasearch nanny’s and baby sitters. When my eyes fell upon Y/N I felt something jolt inside me. The smile, so perfect and beautiful, the doe eyes entrancing me further…but I stopped myself. I was a soon to be divorced dad of 5. No woman her age would want me like that. But she did seem pretty genuine and open to really any hours available. So I decided to shoot her an email

—— Y/n P.o.V. ——

I groaned as my phone dinged roughly five times. There’s no way it’s time for me to get up yet…who the hell is texting me this early? I thought as I rolled over in my bed, I picked my phone up off the nightstand before sitting up in bed. It was notifications from my nanny/babysitting app I have.

Joe Anoa’i: Hello my name is Joe

Joe Anoa’i : I’ve never contacted someone on here before so bare with me please 😅

Joe Anoa’i: I have 3 kids, 1 is a teen so I don’t really need help with her as much, she might need help with homework or something here and there but she’s mostly with her mom, but I do have twin boys who are 3 years old.

Joe Anoa’i: I’m unsure the hours, I am really struggling currently as I’m going through a very rough divorce on top of this

Joe Anoa’i: I’m also on the road a lot, when I have my kids, they come with me so I can assure I spend gas much quality time with them as possible.

I took a look at Joes profile and I immediately noticed how good looking he was. But I pushed that aside it was time to be professional.

Good Morning Joe! I appreciate your interest in my services! I am a part time student who full time works as a nanny/babysitter, I would like to tell you a little bit about myself as I find that important for potential clients. I am 24 years old and I have always loved children, I as of now prefer to watch others children since I want to get my degree! I go to school online so I have open availability! I have been babysitting for roughly 7 years, and I’ve nannied for families for 2 years! I have taken many classes and sat in seminars to ensure that I can be a positive role model for children as well as a safe person for them to rely on. My classes and certifications will be listed below:

• CPR And AED Certified (I also have a portable aed machine I keep with me at all times)

• Water Safety Certification

• infant care certification

• professional nanny certification

• Childhood nutrition

• Fitness education

• Foreign language (6 years of Spanish, 3 years of French, I speak Spanish and French fluently)

• Special Needs Care Classes

• Positive Discipline Training

I would definitely be interested in helping you out! I do require at least one in person meeting prior to discussing any services and creating a buisness contract. If meeting in person doesn’t work (with your busy work schedule) I am also willing to do a zoom call and talk to you over that! Thank you for your interest and I hope to hear from you soon!

Y/F/N Y/L/N

I sent the email and rolled over to go back to sleep. I couldn’t help but think about how handsome Joe was…I pushed it out of my mind and slowly fell back to sleep.

——Joe P.O.V.——

As I ran on the treadmill the ding of a notification interrupted my music. I looked down seeing it was a email from the nannying site. I opened it, reading Y/N’s message and smiling. She said she’d help! And she’s got so many qualifications…man she’s a well rounded individual.

—Time skip because it’s needed now—

——Y/n P.O.V.——

It was a hot day and the first thing the boys wanted to do was swim, I loved Joe’s twins and they were so well behaved. And Joelle was home too which made for nice conversation, she’s such a sweet girl I felt bad that she had to be as old as she was while her parents went through a divorce, my parents were divorced, and it sucked to be her age through all of it too. I walked upstairs, knocking on the door of the boys room. I opened it hearing then giggle. “You boys finish your assigned reading for the day?” I asked and they both nodded with big smiles on their faces. “Well good……I guess it’s pool time then!” I said excitedly and they screamed jumping up and down and making me shush them. “Boys your dad is still sleeping you have to keep it down…he had a long week.” I said and they looked up at me covering their mouths before giggling. “I’m awake.” I heard his deep raspy voice say from behind me, shivers ran up my spin as I slowly turned to look back. My eyes trailed from his thick muscular legs up to his naked torso and chest. My eyes finally connected with his deep chocolate doe eyes making my face flush. “Oh Mr.Anoa’i I didn’t realize you were up! Sorry boys I yelled at you for no reason then.” I said with a small laugh. “How many times I gotta tell ya call me Joe. It’s okay I’d rather you keep these rowdy boys of mine in line then let them wreak havoc like I know they can.” He said as he moved into the room, quickly swooping each boy up onto his shoulders. They giggled and squealed making me smile. “Daddy! Guess what! It’s pool day!” One twin squeaked out surrounded by laughs. “You gotta swim with us please daddy!” The other twin said making me smile. “They sure do drive a hard bargain huh?” He said turning and looking at me. “Yes they do.” I said with a smirk. “Well I guess I have no choice then. I’ll go get my suit on. You two get yours on.” He said setting them down and they nodded. “Last one down to the pool is a rotten egg!” He said before bolting from the room. I quickly grabbed the suits from their dresser handing them each one before exiting the room and closing the door. I needed to check on Joelle.

I knocked softly on her door, hearing her softly tell me to come in. I opened the door peaking my head in seeing her writing stuff down. “Hey Joelle, I just wanted to check in and see how you are doing.” I said with a soft smile closing the door behind me. She looked over sighing before I saw her lip wiggle. “Oh no I’m sorry hun I didn’t want to make you cry:” I said walking over and giving her a hug. She cried softly shaking her head: “I’m so stressed out!” She sobbed out and I rubbed her back letting her calm. “Let’s talk about what you are stressed about.” I said and she let out a shaky breath and nodded. “I’m trying to get a really good score on this anatomy test, I have all A’s but this class I have an A- and I want to get it up so bad. And then I have the varsity swim tryout tomorrow too…and with everything going on with my parents it’s hard to focus, I want to stay here but I know mom is coming tonight and that’s gonna be a huge deal if I even mention it. But I want quiet, and I love my brothers but they are kids and they are loud.” She said and I hummed nodding. “You got practice cards for the exam?” I asked and she nodded. “Okay, well I can help you study, and I can help you as best as I can with practicing for the swim tryout too. I think you need some fresh air for a reset though. Have you had anything to eat today yet?” I asked and she shook her head. “Okay, get your cards, and get your suite on, I’ll make you some lunch and we’ll sit by the pool and study.” I said and she smiled nodding. “You go ahead and get your suit on and I’ll go ahead and make you some food. Meet me down by the pool. I’ll help you out as much as I can.” I said and she smiled. She gave me a big hug. “Thank you for everything Y/n. I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t here.” She said and I smiled. “It makes me happy to help and it’s also my job. I don’t want you struggling through a bunch of stuff at once. You already have enough going on with your parents.” I said and she nodded. I stood giving her another hug before walking out. I walked down the stairs, taking stuff out to make sandwiches, I made Joelle, The boys, Joe and myself a sandwich, I then cut up some fruit and veggies and put them on a tray. Joelle walked down there stairs while I was cutting the boys sandwiches up. “I made you a sandwich hun. And I cut some fruits and veggies too. Let’s go outside.” I said and she nodded opening the door for me as I brought all the food out. “Boys I made you sandwiches come eat! Joe I made you one too.” I said and set them down on the table. The boys quickly got out running over to grab a sandwich. “Hey beautiful, how’s it going?” Joe asked getting out walking over to Joelle kissing her in the top of her head. “I’m a little stressed dad. Y/n’s helping me though.” She said smiling at me and I nodded. “If you need my help babygirl you know all you have to do is ask. Can I help with anything?” He asked as I ogled his body as he hopped out of the pool with ease. The water making his entire body glisten under the sun. “I might need your help with practicing for my swim team tryout tomorrow, and also I want to stay here overnight to get good rest, can you somehow try to convince mom to let me stay?” She asked and I could see him tense slightly. “Whatever you need babygirl I got you.” He said with a soft smile and she smiled back with a nod. Joelle sat down on one of the chairs organizing some school work. I walked over with her sandwich and sat down on the other chair. “Okay let’s get started.” I said and she nodded taking a bite out of her sandwich.

—————

We studied for a good portion of time and she was acing everything. “Okay how do you feel now?” I asked setting down her note cards. “Much more confident now onto the swim try out.” She said and I nodded. “Alright babygirl what do you need me to do?” Joe asked and she thought for a moment. “Well I need to stay under a certain time so can you time me?” She asked and he nodded. “Y/n can you give me a countdown? She asked and I nodded. We walked over to the far end of the pool and she got set up. “Alright. Ready, set, GO!” I said and she dived into the water effortlessly, swimming with all of her willpower to the other end. As soon as she touched the end she looked up at Joe. “18.5 seconds.” He said and she groaned. “What do you need to be at?” He asked her. “I need to be below 16 seconds.” She said and he nodded. “Okay well you aren’t that far off…let’s just focus and push, do you need me to talk to you while you swim?” He asked and she thought for a moment. “Yeah maybe.” She said hopping back out of the pool. She walked around to the end of the pool again getting ready. “Ready?” I asked and she nodded. “Ready. Set. GO!” I said and she dived in once again. “Come on! Push! You got this! Push! Faster! You are almost there!” Joe said as he cheered her on. She touched the wall looking over at him breathing heavily. “You were so close honey. 16.5 that time.” He said and she groaned. “Uhm would it helped if I raced you? Maybe when you are next to competition you push harder.” I said and she looked over at Joe and he shrugged. “I don’t think that it would hurt to try.” He said with a smile and I nodded. She came back over to the side I was on and we both got ready. “Ready. Set. GO!” Joe said as we both dove into the water. I swam as fast as I could and I could tell she was going to beat me. Which was good. I finally touched the wall and she quickly looked up and over at her father. “You got….13.8 SECONDS!” He said and I cheered clapping for her. “Yes!!! Thank you both for helping.” Joelle said with a big smile and I nodded.

——Joe P.O.V.——

As Joelle hopped out of the pool, I watched as Y/n slowly got out. I couldn’t help but watch the droplets of water cascade down her body. My mind thinking of all the things I’d love to do to her. But I was older than her, and divorced, messily divorced which she’s seem parts of. Which I’m sure isn’t a great look for me. But there’s also something so entrancing about watching her with my kids. She’s so nurturing and loving. And the kids seem to love her too. I was snapped out of my thoughts by Joelle. “I think mom’s here.” She said and I looked down at my watch. She was 2 hours early. I’m sure there’s some fucking reason for it. I walked into the house and over to the door. I opened it seeing my loving ex wife standing there. “You are early…what a lovely surprise.” I said with all the sarcasm I could muster. “It’s not like you have anything to hide. I already know you are probably sleeping with that skank you call a “nanny” you mad I interrupted you finally getting some?” She asked and I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

——Y/N P.O.V.——

I told the kids to go get their stuff ready upstairs as I walked into the house with their wet towels. I began walking to the laundry room before I heard the bickering. “Oh please Joe. I know you like that whore I’m sure you haven’t kept your hands off of her.” I heard his ex wife say. “Are you fucking crazy? You are here to pick the kids up that’s it. I’m not going to fucking argue with you. I don’t know why you care so much anyway. YOU asked for a divorce not me.” I heard Joe say and I bit my lip. Was she talking about it me? I wondered as I threw the towels in the washer throwing some soap in before starting it. “Because I don’t want my kids being watched by some slut who’s probably trying to fuck their father in front of them.” She said and my jaw dropped. She was talking about me. I slowly walked into the hallway not stepping out from behind the wall. “You are going to stop talking about Y/n like you even know her. And you need to stop projecting so much. Just because you cheated and then asked for a divorce and then the guy you cheated with broke up with you doesn’t mean that you have any right in how I’m living my life. And for your information Y/N and I have not slept together so let’s get that straight right now.” Joe said making me blush. “But you want to don’t you? You want to fuck someone younger. Manipulate her just like you did to me.” She said and my eyes went wide: “I’m seriously done having this conversation with you. You are just trying to embarrass me and yourself at this point.” Joe said and she laughed. Something in me decided to make me step out from behind the wall. Joes eyes made contact with mine and he sighed. “Y/n I’m sorry her behavior is unacceptable. I didn’t want you to hear any of that I apologize on her behalf.” He said and I smiled softly. “I don’t! I’m sure he’ll knock you up just like he did me. Don’t believe his fucking lies he’s an asshole.” She said looking over his shoulder. “It’s honestly disgusting to me that you’d talk about anyone in that manor in front of your own children.” I said and she scoffed. “Oh what like they don’t hear you two moaning all night anyway?” She said making me laugh. I walked up closer to the door and Joe watched me carefully. “Let’s get one thing very very clear. I’ve never slept with Joe. I’ve never slept with anyone who I work for. So the fact that you think you can step up here and talk about me as if you’ve known me for years is astronomical to me. You should be THANKFUL I’m here. Helping your children, making sure they are getting their school work done. I just helped Joelle prep for her anatomy exam she has tomorrow and her elite swim team tryout she also has tomorrow. And Joe has been right there doing what he can as their father to help too. But seeing that YOU stepped out, YOU made this more stressful for YOUR OWN KIDS! Not HIM! So don’t go around blaming everyone else for your mistakes. You don’t want to see anyone happy or succeed because you are miserable and that’s your own wrong doing. Not anyone else’s.” I spoke with confidence before walking away. She was speechless. I walked upstairs knocking on the loud door seeing them come out with their bags packed and ready. “Alright mommy’s downstairs, go ahead I’ll see ya boys in a few days!” I said with a smile ruffling their hair. I knocked on Joelle’s door before opening it. She was shoving things into her bag aggressively. “Are you alright Joelle?” I asked softly and she shook her head as I heard her sniffle.

I walked up and sat on her bed opening me arms and she looked up crying and falling into my arms. “I’m sorry you have to be in the middle of that hunny, It’s not fair to you.” I said rubbing her back. “No it’s not. But I know it’s not dad. It’s just her I don’t understand why she hates you, or dad, when she’s the one who made a mistake.” She said shaking her head and I shrugged. “Honey the last thing I want to do is make it seem like your mom is a bad person. I know she loves you and your brothers and I think that she’s just upset and hurt that she did loose your dad and she made that mistake. It’s hard…I’m sure. Especially with how long they were married. Even though she made a mistake, it still hurts loosing him I’m sure.” I said and she sighed. “I wish she was more like you. I wish she was you. I wish you were her. You know I heard her saying all those things about sleeping with my dad. I know you haven’t, but if you like him…I think it would be good for him to have you in his life. You keep him happy. I haven’t seen him like that since way before the divorce even. He’s so much more in tune us kids now too.” She said making me smile. “Well honey as much as I do have interest in your father I think he may believe I’m too young for him and that’s okay. It won’t make me care about you and your siblings any less.” I said and she nodded: “Just promise me you’ll stay in touch even if you find someone else to take care of.” She said and I smiled. “Oh hun, if it ever were to come to those terms of course I’ll stay in touch I want to see you succeed to your fullest potential. Now pack the rest of your stuff. You’ve gotta go.” I said and she nodded. I helped her pack the rest of her stuff into her bag and we walked out of her bedroom. We walked down stairs and she turned and hugged me, her mother glaring from the door. “Hey you are gonna do amazing tomorrow okay?” I said and she smiled nodded. She walked out the door, Joe closing it behind her. He sighed his head dropping as he looked down at the floor. “Joe I-.” Before I could finish he put a finger up. “Don’t. Don’t do what I know you are about to do.” He said and I blushed softly. “I was just gonna apologize.” I said and he shook his head turning around looking at me. “No. You don’t have to do that. You were in the right. I never should’ve let her continue disrespecting you. I apologize. She was so out of line.” He said and I shrugged. “I don’t care what she says about me. I care about what those kids hear. Joelle was up there in tears. That’s not okay to me.” I said and he nodded his eyes brimmed with tears. “I-I know. I just…I don’t even know what the fuck to do.” He said putting his head in his hands. “Would you like a hug?” I asked softly and he nodded walking over pulling me in for a big hug. He was like a giant compared to me but u tried my best to wrap my arms around him. He cried just like Joelle oddly enough. “I just never thought my life would come to this you know? I’ve been cheated on, went through a divorce and now she’s got this fucking vendetta out against me for god knows what, and my fucking children are being affected by it.” He said and I sighed. “You don’t deserve this.” I said and he shook his head. “I just want my kids to be happy. They are always happy when they come here and you’re here.” He said and I let him go finally sensing slight resistance. “Joe maybe it’s better if I find a different family to nanny for. I can’t live with subjecting the kids to this life if I’m what causes that.” I said and his face dropped. “Joe, maybe it would be best for me to nanny for a different family. I don’t want to cause the kids more stress and harm.” I said shaking my head and he pulled his head away looking at me fear writing like the front page cover of a newspaper. “Y-you can’t go. The kids love you, I love you, I-.” He stopped as it sunk in what he just said. “Y-you what?” I asked softly, looking up at him as tears brimmed my eyes. His hands slowly came up to caress my face before he pulled me in for a soft loving kiss.

I closed my eyes taking in the feeling of his soft sweet lips against mine. I relaxed against him as our lips moved in sync with each others. We pulled away for air and I finally opened my eyes looking up at him. His dark brown doe eyes bored into mine. “I said I love you. I fucking love you Y/N. And I know it’s probably wrong but fuck I can’t hide it anymore. You are so perfect.” He said rubbing my cheek softly making me smile. “I love you to Joe.” I said with a smile and his smile somehow grew wider. He kissed me again with more passion this time. His hand ran up to hair gripping it softly, his other arm snaking its way around my waist pulling me closer to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck softly moaning into his mouth. “Let me show you? Please?” He asked lowly and I nodded. His strong arms reached down to the back of my thighs hoisting me up onto his waist. He kissed my neck softly making my head lull back as he walked us up the stairs. “God I didn’t think you’d feel the same about me.” He said softly as we made our way to his room. He closed the door behind us, bringing us to the bed before sitting down. “I found you attractive the moment I saw you..” I whispered in his ear making him groan.

His hands traveled up my thighs, gripping my ass softly before continuing up to my waist. His hands slid under my shirt, pulling it up and over my head. His eyes traveled down my body. “God you are fucking gorgeous.” He whispered making me blush and cover my face. “What? There’s no way you aren’t used to compliments.” He said kissing down my neck slowly. “I don’t..g-get many.” I whispered out as he flipped me around laying me down softly in the bed. His soft lips trailed down my body his eyes closed with each kiss. His large hands caressed my thighs trailing down to my waistband. He delicately pulled my pants off, my underwear following right after. “Please take your clothes off.” I whimpered out and he smiled. “I got you baby.” He said lowly his lustful eyes gleamed in the setting sun. He pulled his shirt off with one hand. My eyes tracked down his gorgeous body. Loving the site. So fucking hot. His gorgeous tan skin, accompanied with his dark and prominent tattoos. I swore he was sculpted by a god. He pulled his pants down his v-lines peaking out of his boxers. My eyes traveled to his thick hard on prominent in his tight briefs. “Oh wow…I-I’ve never seen one so big before.” I said making him chuckle. “Can I touch you?” I asked softly looking up at him. “Of course you can baby.” He said lowly making me smile. I sat up crawling over to him. I kneeled as I leaned forward kissing his soft lips. His hands traveled down to my hips gripping them softly. I ran my hand down his chiseled upper body, wanting to memorize every ounce of muscle I could feel. Finally I met the fabric of his waistband. I slipped my fingers into his waist band reaching for his hard member. My hand just barely being able to wrap around it.

I slowly began to stroke him, his deep moans making the fire inside me blaze higher. He pulled away from the kiss pushing his forehead up against mine. “As much as I love you touching me. I’d prefer to also be pleasuring you.” He said and I smiled nodded. “How about you ride my face? Would you like that?” He’s asked and I nodded softly. Before I knew it he was laying down and I was being pulled up to his face. His muscular arms pulled my thighs down as he began to skillfully work his tongue against me. I moaned softly as my eyes rolled from pleasure. I quickly went to work taking his member out of his boxers, pushing them down his legs. I took in the sight of his thick cock, wondering how it was going to even fit. I had never seen someone so well endowed let alone had one inside of me that large. I gripped his member softly before slowly licking around the tip. His thighs twitched with anticipation as I began to lick and suck him. My tongue running along the veins feeling them throb. I moaned around him as he hit a pleasure filled spot. He slowed for a moment trailing his tongue around before triggering my moan again. He smiled against me as he focussed on that spot. I moaned around him my legs beginning to shake from pleasure. I sped up my motions bobbing my head around him adding my hand stroking him with what I couldn’t fit in my mouth. I was so fucking close. He pulled me up slightly making me whine as his mouth was now detached from me. “I want you to dum for me baby. I’m so close. I want you to cum in my face baby lemme taste you.” He growled out before going right back to work he quickly found my spot again making me moan around him even more. Before I knew it my eyes rolled back, my thighs squeezed his face and I basked in the feeling of pure pleasure, feeling what felt like jolts of lightning flow through my body. He slurped against me making me whimper. I continued to suck as I felt his cock twitch.

His warm essence filled my mouth as he groaned. “Fuck baby that was amazing.” He growled out making me hum. I finally sat up removing myself from on top of him. “Come lay down, let me take care of you.” He said and I laid down as he sat up. Somehow still hard he lined up with my entrance bending down and kissing me softly. I still involuntarily tensed making him pull back and look at me. “What’s wrong sweetheart?” He asked and my face flushed hotly. “I-I just haven’t done this in a while you are really big, I won’t lie and say I’m not nervous.” I said and he bent down against kissing me softly. “Honey, if you don’t want to do this we don’t have to.” He said softly and I shook my head. “No no I want to! I do! I’m just a little nervous that’s all.” I said and he nodded. He kissed down my jawline over to my ear. “I’ll be as gentle as you want me to be my love.” He said softly in my ear making me moan out. “You ready?” He asked and I nodded softly. He kissed along my neck slowly easing himself inside of me. I gasped loudly as he was finally in. “Too much?” He asked and I shook my head quickly. “No! Please don’t stop.” I moaned out gripping his biceps as he began to thrust into me. He felt so much bigger inside of me. I moaned loudly gripping onto his back. His slow deep thrusts gave me all I needed and more. “You like that baby? You like the way I fuck you?” He asked lowly in my ear making me moan louder. “Yes! Oh fuck I love it please don’t stop!” I screamed out making him growl. “God you feel like fucking magic you know that?” He panted out making me whine. He sat up pulling my legs over his shoulders making me gasp out. He sped up his thrusts the new angle making him feel like he was inside my stomach. I knew I was close already. But I wanted him to use that strength. “Harder baby! Fuck me harder please!” I moaned out as he growled. He picked began to slam into me the sound of skin slapping together filled the room. “You like it a little rough don’t you baby?” He said with a smirk making me whine with a nod. “Yesss I love it rough.” I moaned out making him groan. He brought his hand up my belly, then chest, resting it at my neck making me moan. His other hand reaching down and rubbing slow circles around my clit as he pounded into me. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum! Please! Please don’t stop!” I moaned out gripping his biceps digging my nails in. “Cum for me baby. Come all over me.” He moaned out and I my moans began to get higher as I felt myself start to shake. My toes curled, my eyes rolled back and the knot inside me tightened before releasing completely. Falling over the edge my body shaking softly. My body felt heavy as I still was reviving from my orgasm. I heard him growl before pulling out quickly, shooting his load all over my stomach. I breathed heavily my eyes closed from exhaustion. “You sit tight baby I’m gonna go get a washcloth and towel to clean up.” He said and I nodded holding my thumb up to him making him laugh.

——Next Day——

I was sleeping peacefully wrapped in Joe’s warm and cozy arms when all the sudden his phone started ringing. Joe jolted, quickly reaching for the smartphone on the nightstand. “Hello?” He said rubbing his eyes and sitting up softly. “Babygirl slow down. What’s wrong?” I heard him say and that quickly woke me up. It had to be Joelle. “We are on our way. Don’t worry about it.” He said getting out of bed. I hopped out of bed as well grabbing some leggings and a shirt. Slipping my pants on first, I looked over at Joe as he pulled some jeans on watching me change. His eyes traveled down to my naked chest as I slid my shirt on. “So what’s going on?” I asked and he snapped out of his trance. “Joelle is freaking out because she has that swim tryout and her mother is nowhere to be found but the twins aren’t at school she called the school and they said her mother picked them up.” He said and my jaw dropped. “So she left Joelle knowing that she has the varsity swim tryouts out?” I asked and he nodded. “She was torn up about it. We gotta go bring her.” He said and I nodded. I grabbed my purse jogging downstairs, I grabbed a cold purple Gatorade from the fridge, along with a beef stick and cheese stick. I’m sure she’s hungry and she needs some electrolytes to keep her focused. Joe came downstairs looking down at my hand smiling. “Bringin her a snack?” He asked and I nodded. “God I love you.” He said kissing my forehead as we walked out the door. “I love you too honey.” I said with a smile as we got into the car.

————

Once we got to the school Joelle quickly ran out and got in the car. “Thank you guys for coming.” She said softly and I handed her the snacks and drink k brought. “You’re the best Y/n.” She said ripping the packaging open and eating her snacks as we quickly made our way there. Once we were there we parked. “Alright babygirl good luck.” Joe said and she hugged him tight. “Could you guys come in and be there for me while I tryout?” She asked and Joe looked over at me. “You won’t feel like your friends think it’s lame your parents are there?” He asked and I smiled at the fact that he called us her parents. “No not at all I think it’ll help me actually.” She said and we shrugged. “Okay we are more than willing if you want us to hun!” I said and she smiled widely. We all got out of the car and walked in. We walked down to the pool and she walked over to the registration table and we walked over to the bleachers. Joelle got through registration and was givin a number to pin to her swimsuit. Joe smiled as he looked at her number. “96 god sign that was my number throughout college football.” He said making me smile. She was racing 3 others. As the line up, Joe reached over and grabbed my hand. I looked at him and he looked nervous as he was locked in on his babygirl. The shot went off and in they went. Joelle swam as hard as she could. Leading by a far amount but the time she touched the wall. “Yes that’s my girl.” I heard Joe whisper making me smile. “Alright. 96, incredible time. 13.3 seconds. Congrats you’ve made it to varsity.” The coach said and she quickly looked over at us with the biggest smile. I gave her a big smile back putting my thumb up making her smile. She got out of the pool going over and talking with the coach. She flagged us over and we walked over. “Nice to meet you both. You’ve got a very very talented girl on your hands, I think she can be something very very successful.” The coach said making me smile. “We are so proud of her. All her accomplishments this included. Thank you for noticing her potential.” Joe said and I nodded. “It’s hard to not notice it. Now you go home kid. I’ll see yah Monday bright and early for practice okay?” The coach said and Joelle nodded with a smile. She went to change coming out of the locker room a few minutes later. We walked outside and Joe turned and hugged Joelle tightly. “I’m so so proud of you.” He said and she smiled. “Sooo did you ask Y/n to be your girlfriend yet or were you just holding hands in the bleachers as a joke?” Joelle asked with a giggle. “It wasn’t a joke we are dating.” Joe said making me smile. “This is so sweet!” She said hugging me. I can’t believe that being a nanny turned into me meeting the love of my life!

✨THE END✨

[thedistantdusk]

Hello! Hope you're doing good! I'm a huuuuge fan of your works! You're really brilliant istg! Just wanted to ask if you're working on any Harry Potter fics currently.... I understand if you don't want to answer this. It's absolutely fine if you're on a break or something. Hope you are happy and having fun! Take care, lots of love!

Hello!

Thank you, that’s very kind.

It’s… interesting to me that this ask arrived in my inbox late last night (when this old lady was dead asleep! 😴) because this is a topic I’ve struggled with for some time. I suppose now is as good a time as any to discuss it.

After immersing myself in original content for over a year, I’ve come to the realization that I’m better suited to original publication.

I can already hear the follow-up question (“Why?”)… and yikes, I’m hesitant to answer, because my reasoning is the sort of thing that’s often misconstrued/taken personally on Tumblr.

Please know that what I’m about to say does not describe a single person or event, and it’s absolutely not intended as a personal attack. However, since I’ve been wrestling with this for some time (and since I get frequent asks about it), I’d like to think my feelings are valid enough to explain myself.

So! Here’s an explanation, in the form of a story.

A couple of weeks ago, I attended a writing conference and got the opportunity to chat with an author who’s been doing this gig for ages, with a number of professional accolades to her name. She also started out writing Harry Potter fanfic, so we got to talking about the transition from fic to OC. She no longer writes fic (and didn’t write canon pairings, so had no overlap with my experiences in that regard) but she offered a sage piece of wisdom that has stuck with me since.

I’m paraphrasing, but the gist of what she offered is that in most cases, when comparing big-name fanfic authors to big-name OC authors, the standard of content quality is almost exactly the same— but the accepted standard of professionalism couldn’t be more different.

And maybe this statement is obvious to you, but it really threw me for a loop! 😅 To clarify, she wasn’t saying that this statement is necessarily anyone’s fault, or that individual fic writers are to blame for the overall culture of some (not all!) fandoms. She also wasn’t saying that any author— or any person, in general— deserves disrespect.

She was simply commenting on the difference of what’s considered “part of the job” when comparing reader interactions between fanfic vs OC communities. She wasn’t even speaking about Harry Potter in particular, so if you’ve had a different experience, I believe you! This was her feedback, and hers alone 😄.

Unfortunately, though, it did ring extremely true for me. Imo, when “professional” authors (and yes, I hate using that term, because all authors are valid) engage in objectively outlandish/unkind behavior, they often face consequences— at least in the court of public opinion.

However, I simply can’t say the same is true for fandom. Imo, there are few other venues where folks who actually want readers/followers are publicly supported in behavior that, in my opinion, should receive a call-out instead of a round of applause.

Again, this is just my experience, and I’m not describing everyone. Many fanfic writers (including the ones I beta for 🥰) behave as true professionals. And if you’re reading this and completely disagree with me, that’s totally okay! Nothing I’m saying should be intended to take away from anything you’ve experienced. I’m simply describing my own personal feelings/the feelings of a peer with whom I discussed the transition from fandom to original culture.

So… will I write fic again? Given the circumstances I’ve described, this will be a challenge. I love organizing fic exchanges and festivals, working on the subreddit, and supporting the creation of new content. But after witnessing, first-hand, the way that OC authors engage with the public, my experiences in fandom culture feel unnecessarily toxic by comparison.

Which leads me to my point: After quite a bit of introspection, I’ve had to accept that there were many times over the past few years when I should’ve been kinder in my public handling of reader interactions/Tumblr asks.

I, myself, fell into the “fandom trap” of responding to innocent questions in a way that embarrasses me now. I take full responsibility, but I can’t change the past. The most I can do is apologize and offer a greater degree of kindness in the future.

So! I know that’s a long-winded explanation, but the transition to OC has really opened my eyes. I wholeheartedly support anyone who continues to write fic/produce for fandoms; this, again, is literally just my experience. I’ll always be around discord for a chat and conversation, but I’m not sure if writing fic is for me anymore.

In closing, it saddens me that this post (which is literally about kindness/professionalism) will probably inspire passive-aggressive reblogs and hashtags, but this will only be a prime example of why HP content creation may no longer be for me 😅.

In short, this indefinite break will probably continue, but I truly appreciate your support ❤️.

Take care!

[risingfire17-the-weeb-trash]

40 Day Anime Challenge Day 10- A character you despise with all your heart and soul: Almost everyone in Welcome to the NHK (2006)

I was excited to watch this. It had great reviews, and fans raved that it was a realistic and positive portrayal of people with mental health issues. As someone with these myself, of course I was excited.

But here are my thoughts after watching the anime: 

1) It is not a realistic portrayal of people with mental illness, because the characters are not given much characterization beyond the problematic behaviors of their disorders, no redeeming qualities, and very little character development that was rushed at the end.

2) It is not a positive portrayal of people with mental illness at all. Once again, they are almost entirely reduced to stereotypes, and they’re pretty terrible people. If this is the representation people like me, who has put in a lifetime of therapy and self-reflection to continue overcoming my issues and have healthy relationships, then I fear what those without mental illness would think of me based on what they see in these individuals.

So let’s get to why I despise the characters, yeah? (Spoilers ahead)

Tatsuhiro Sato, our protagonist. 

I don’t have a problem with the fact that he is a NEET. I have a problem with the fact that he never got professional help. I have a problem with the fact that he lied to his parents to keep getting their money, and cursed them when they finally cut him off. I have a problem with the way he treated his friends, yelling, name calling, throwing things, and then guilting them into letting him mooch off of them. I have a problem with his attraction to Misaki. First, because she is a teenager, and instead of staying away from her so he doesn’t act on this, he continues to spend time with her, has her pretend to be his girlfriend at one point, uses her as a cook and housekeeper, and ultimately confesses his love and starts dating her. The second reason is that until a rushed confession in the last episode that may not even be genuine because he said it to literally talk her off the ledge, he was only attracted to her physically and because she would do anything he wanted. He told her multiple times that she was a nuisance, a nag, had a terrible personality, etc. He belittled and bullied her through most of the series.

Misaki Nakahara, our wannabe hero. 

Clearly, she’s a struggling teen and needs help. What she does not need to do is berate and enable a grown man that she only latches on to because looking down on him helps her feel good about herself (which she admitted to halfway through the series and never worked at changing afterward) She coerces him to go along with her “treatment plan” rather than encouraging him to seek actual professional help. She nags at him, bursts into his home, and often pushes him farther out of his comfort zone than he can handle at the time. She enables his codependency when she starts cooking and cleaning for him, all the while scolding him for not doing it himself, so he learns that he is incompetent and should just let her do everything and accept her criticism when he does. I’ll give her a bit more of a pass than the other characters, because unlike the other characters behaving like children, she is literally a child. But she is still a toxic and manipulative person and her problematic behavior needs to be addressed by her guardians (and a licensed therapist)

Hitomi Kashiwa. 

This girl was the catalyst for Sato having a breakdown, always talking about conspiracies. When she comes back into his life, she asks him to join a group she is part of for a trip, not telling him that they are all there to commit suicide! She takes her vulnerable junior, who, despite all his flaws, is at least trying to get himself together, and exposes him to a group exacerbate his depression and he almost gets killed because of it. I haven’t read the manga, but I am told she tries to have an affair with Sato after she is married with a kid. (And the person she is married to, Akira Jogasaki, is so sweet and supportive, he’s the only character I like in this show, so it really hurts to see her betray him like that.)

Kauru Yamazaki, Sato’s best friend, giving otakus everywhere a bad name.

 This guy is supposed to be the “functional” one of the group, being the only one who has a job and is in school to pursue a meaningful career. That’s great and all, but he has a shit personality. His life revolves around perving on 2D women, and complaining that real women can never compare because of the imperfections that make them human, like having their own personalities, motives, and goals. He voices this in a way that is very misogynistic, painting women as manipulative. When he finally starts to fall for a human girl, he pursues her after being rejected, gets mad at her for interacting with other males, and has Sato videotape his confession to her without her knowledge for reference for their game. After moving home, he dates a girl who looks just like her, implying that he does not love this girl, but just sees her as a stand-in. And this is the guy Sato goes to for advice, ugh.

Finally, Megumi Kobayashi. 

After finding out about Sato’s issues, she lies to him and manipulates him into joining a toxic MLM scheme. Even when he tries to get out, she tricks him multiple times into buying her stuff. Look, I feel sorry for her circumstances, but that doesn’t excuse her behavior.

This show was painful to watch. (Even with Akira Jogasaki carrying the whole show on his back) I don’t know if the manga did any better and never will because I’m never touching this series again. I hate these people. Time to search for an anime that is actually a realistic and positive portrayal of people with mental illness.

[esterzach]

This is just me obsessing over an old show. Again. What else is new?

Omg, this is perfection. Parenting Made Easy, 3.10, The Good Wife Such a juicy bite! I love that show, especially the first 3 seasons. I don't know if this is about age thing... but coming back and seeing it now, from a different perspective - just pure pleasure. The writing of the relationships and the drama! With all the ups and downs in the mood! Damn, they were good! This is exactly the type of writing that resonates with me. I watched a couple of episodes of other things lately. Well... Nope. They all seemed as if they were made for children. Some are really iconic series, but they just seem... meh... There is a good line here and there, but overall they feel shallow. And I get it, somewhere from the 90s, but The Nanny was from the 90's and still works fantastic, way better than other famous sitcoms from the same period.

It's not the era. It's the quality. There isn't a moment to breathe here. When something is funny, it's hilarious! When something is dramatic, it hurts! I can't help but think what would have happened, what was the initial plan about Alicia and Kalinda if certain someone hadn't decided to act like an idiot. I will never forgive her for this. Professional behavior, my ass... Anyway!

I love these writers! No idea who they are, but they deserve their weight in gold!(Leonard Dick is the only familiar name, and that's just because he wrote for House. )

It's rare for a show to make me care about pretty much every character. Usually it's about 3 people. The rest seem like a blur in the background. Here they feel solid! Even the guest actors. Often especially the guest actors. I know many of them are talented actors, but I didn't the first time I watched them. They were just characters for me. Some I understood and loved, others still hate with passion. Kanning and Elsbeth Tassioni! Whoever came up with her is brilliant!

But anyway! My thoughts were about this episode. Alicia is worried about her daughter, it started in the previous episode. Some of the people she defends are psychopaths, and it takes a toll on her. Oddly enough, she was witness to some seriously disturbing shit and never even flinched. But in her defense, on one occasion she was drunk, and it was hilarious. Now her kid decides to disappear and go to... some shady dude who baptized her. Yup. Her daughter still is among my least favourite characters. Even her son is more understanding and bearable than her. I feel like they either messed up with this kid's character, or she was done this way on purpose. Maybe to create a rift between her and her mother later on. Still...

So she disappears and Alicia freaks out, not being able to find her for several hours. Understandably, in her head, she's seeing the worst. Only her son is calm and tells her exactly what ended up happening. The interesting part is what happens around her without her knowledge. The way people revolve around her, activate to help, their reactions, and how effective or useless they are. I can't stand Peter! But have to admit - when it's about their kids, he cares and behaves as a normal father. The moment Alicia calls him, he understands and quickly forgets how angry he is at her and how lousy their relationship is at this moment. This isn't about them - this is about their child, and understandably, he uses all his power and resources to start looking for their daughter.

Kanning, who is usually a snake, a brilliant cutthroat, and ready to use every opportunity, takes a second to realize how upset and scared she is and immediately steps in to offer help. Despite his behaviour in court, he admires her and cares about her in his own way. Granted, by the end, he is his usual self and does something shocking... or very predictable. I don't know if I admire him, hate him, or am jealous that I can't be that opportunistic and smart. Probably all of the above. But here, the most amazing reaction goes, yet again, to Kalinda. At this point, the relationship between her and Alicia is disastrous. After the blow-up between the two about 11 episodes ago, Alicia can't even be in her presence. At the beginning of the episode, she even angrily asks: "What are you doing here?", when Kalinda comes to help the intern. A small reminder that Kalinda is sleeping with the dogs at the moment.

But one of the best aspects of this relationship is that Kalinda is almost like a shadow to Alicia. A guard of sorts who follows her closely and is ready to jump. And it's even better that this is not just explicitly shown on this occasion, but it's always there throughout the series from the very beginning. From their first case. From the first courtroom appearance of Alicia. Kalinda is there to give support. An encouraging word. An intimidating presence to the others who are or can be a potential threat. She is a rock. In this case, she senses something is going on, understands the situation from a couple of words, and immediately goes into action! She speaks with Zack, goes to Grace's girlfriend before the police, asks the right questions, and finds Grace before everyone.

The way she dismisses Will on the way out is absolutely the icing on the cake. Will meets her and asks her if she has time, she brushes him off, without even a look with a short "no" and leaves. Mind you, she is at work, and that's not just her colleague, that's her boss! The person who hired her, who is one of the closest people to her, said directly to her "I've got your back!". Her priorities can not be more clear.

Her loyalty is amazing! Later on, she shows it time and time again. It's even sweeter when this is shown in contrast to how she uses people and doesn't give a fuck about them. She respects Diane, but she is just a boss. She likes and respects Will, but she won't hesitate to manipulate him to give her a raise. Later on, she shows the same loyalty to Cary, risking jail to save him. But for Alicia, she would do anything. Literally anything. Forget breaking the law, forget jail - she is willing to kill. Poor Will. This was a bad time for him. Misunderstood, dismissed, and left outside the action he even misinterpreted what he saw when he came to her apartment. It's not that he didn't want to help, but Alicia thought he was calling about work or about them, and at that moment, he was the one who was unfortunate to be the receiving end of her anger. The guilt that she put herself first for once and could have cost her everything, even though there was no connection with what happened, made her decide later on to end it.

It almost felt like Will doesn't have a place in that part of her life. He wouldn't be able to understand - that's her family, and it seems like Will is not the type of guy built for a family. He is a playboy, married to his job, immature, enjoying his money and freedom, and a love affair with a colleague is just the type of thing he would do for fun, with no depth, just because it's fun and dangerous. If depicted this way for the viewers, it would have made me not like him very much. The whole thing with Alicia would've been meaningless and annoying. He could easily be just a dumb macho or a prick, that would make me say 'Pff, f off... "

But... he is not. And that's also made skillfully from the writers. In the eyes of most people around, even Diane, who knows him really well, Will is having fun, albeit dangerous fun with a coworker. It's again Kalinda who sees how deep his feelings for Alicia run. Will is subtle. Well, most of the time. He keeps his distance and respects her wishes. He asks her what she wants and what she thinks. He meets Zack and actively tries to be nice, he is awkward, wondering how he should behave with her son, but he tries. Later he asks her if she wants him to meet her children. She refuses, saying that there is no need. But just asking for this... seems like something huge! At this point, they are just having a secret affair, not telling ANYONE, because she is married to Peter. If that was just sex, he wouldn't think at all about something like this. But he had already made up his mind in that voicemail long ago. It's just she doesn't know that. It's telling how their first meeting with Owen went. Alicia's brother is one of my favourite characters in the show. Owen, and later Marrisa seem to be the voice of the viewers. I have loved Owen from the very moment he first spoke! Sharp, funny, perceptive, and kind, a bit messed up in his relationships, but he genuinely loves his sister and her children. Owen hates Peter, and it feels like it's mutual, and that resentment didn't start with the scandal. But with Will, they click from the very moment they meet. And Owen constantly pushes Alicia to Will, convinced that this is what will make her happy. It's also interesting that every time he asks her if she is in love with Will and if this will hurt her, she says "no". It feels like the whole idea is that she sees the situation from the cynical point of view of an outsider or the society. Maybe the society is right, probably her affair is the same old cliche of a boss messing around with an employee. No matter how Will behaves or what he says, what would it take for her to even consider that it is something more? Did life so far teach her anything else? The constant lesson to her was: "You can't trust people, they will hurt you." Betrayal is the ongoing theme throughout the series. It's not about her being a victim. People are like that - they don't care, they are selfish and will betray you. Her mom doesn't seem to care, she just lives her life, her husband from 20 years, the person who you are supposed to trust the most in the whole wide world, who you shared everything with you, spit on your trust and exposed you to the world to become a mockery, left you to fight alone, and to look for excuses for mistakes that aren't yours at all. Every one of her friends abandoned her, new ones either don't stick or put themselves and their interests before you. Or worse - they hurt you for no reason whatsoever. Trusting someone with your heart starts to look laughable with time. If she opens herself to it she exposes the last thing that is left of her inner self, the most intimate part of her, and is betrayed again, will she survive? I guess she chooses to think that this is fun for two grown adults, and that's it. Even Diane thinks so. The moment she found out about it she was sure that this fling would mean a disaster for her job. Because it's the only thing she has to protect, the only thing important to her, the meaning of her life. She can not comprehend that this relationship can be something that can be more important than their jobs and that they can view it differently. She goes into a protective mood over her job. This looks like one of the most American traits of the show - that cynical view of people's feelings and the normal, human side of the relationship. Work is more important than anything, and it can be the sole meaning of one's life, nothing else.

That is another can of worms people would probably hate me for digging into around here. But it's yet another aspect of the writing in this show that I love. Don't get me wrong - I like Diane, but for the first seasons of the show, she comes across as the cold, calculated bitch, who is ready to walk on corpses just like everyone else around her. She has no sympathy for almost anyone, man or woman, and is led by her desire for success and money until she is faced with uncomfortable love and a devastating loss that slowly makes her rethink everything. Someone in the previous seasons mocks her that she likes to pretend that her company is a family, and the accuracy of the statement is perfect. Family doesn't cost you millions if you make a mistake, you don't get into it (Usually) by giving obscene amounts of money, and the family doesn't (again usually) betray you over a deal, a family is supposed to be above that, and based on... love? Trust? Security? Support? Respect? Family means protection.

Not for Diane. And lately, not for Alicia. Diane never had one, and Alicia was stripped of the notion she could rely on hers. Her mother is nowhere to be seen, her brother gone for years, her husband... well, left her broke, jobless, humiliated, and she had to give up her home, with only a vicious, hateful mother-in-law who couldn't wait for every opportunity to make her feel like shit.

When Diane finds out about Alicia and Will, she doesn't think that there could be something more there. She thinks Alicia may have developed feelings, but she'll get over them. But for Will, it doesn't even cross her mind that he could be genuine. And she has known him for years. Ironic, considering in this episode, he speaks about a commitment to Kalinda. It's not new, but saying it out loud is a huge step forward. That's the man who claimed he doesn't do feelings in a recent conversation with her.

People lie. Alicia lies to convince herself, Will lies so he doesn't look weak, and Kalinda lies to save her own life and the people she cares about. Peter just lies. Because... a habit? At the end of the episode, it looks like one relationship is over, another is reviewed through a different lens, and a third one is presented with the possibility of being repaired.

The title "Parenting Made Easy" seems to hit another level of double meaning. No sane person in the world would say that parenting is easy, especially in a city with a crime rate through the roof, for people who struggle with personal problems, and in professions where people would do anything to get what they want, riddled with criminals who are ready to kill. But on some level, it's comforting to know that even then, in certain situations, everyone would forget everything else and focus on what's important. It takes a village, even for the wealthy. Even if it is a bit crazy.

[twistedintern]

~A summary/analysis of Mozus Trein’s voice lines [from Unified Exams No.7]~

Once again, the following analysis would not possible were it not for the efforts of the one and only Ras and their terrific Mystery Shop Translations. Theirs is not short of a bonafide labor of love; I am eternally grateful for their kindness in allowing me to corroborate my own interpretation of game content with top-quality translations.

The voice lines under examination in this post can be found here.

DISCLAIMER: As with my previous writings on staff voice lines, please keep in mind that this post is speculative in nature and should not, under any circumstances, be heralded as canon.

Let’s not delay any longer, dear visitors!

(As an added bonus, I furthermore have in my drafts a critical treatment for your reading pleasure: that is, a “mini-study” detailing Professor Trein’s relationship with another canon character, featuring evidence gleaned from personal episodes.)

FACTS

- He lives alone - His adult daughters correspond with him through written letters - They are concerned for his well-being; they often ask after his health and urge him to call upon them if ever a need - His view of academia is certifiably a no-nonsense one. He insists the duty of students is singular in nature: learning should--no, must--take precedence - He is firmly against utilizing the Internet as a research tool and/or study aid. According to him, it is rife with false information that anyone can claim factual. Books and printed matter (which require review in most cases) are far more reliable in his eyes - Not only does he loathe yawning during his class, he finds the gesture rude in public settings in general - He asserts that each and every one of Night Raven College’s instructors care deeply for students’ success and behave in accordance to seeing pupils realize their potential. No matter how strict he and his colleagues may be, what they do is for students’ own good - He strives to keep up a presentable, professional image befitting a scholar: little else factors into his choice in attire. In the interest of tidiness, he always has a lint roller handy for the removal of cat fur - He demonstrates admirable dedication to maintaining an orderly home and domestic environment, such that he cleans his kitchen and bathroom daily. He attributes this habit of his to his late wife--he thinks it unkind toward her memory to live in squalor - He does not play favorites; he treats all students equally - He has on a prior occasion consulted Vargas on the topic of keeping physically fit in a manner befitting his age. True to form, Vargas suggested he take up Magift... Trein is reluctant to pursue the latter’s advice on account of the risk of injury - He provides us with another example of Sam’s product savvy: despite Trein’s misgivings, Lucius has loved each and every cat toy the former has recommended. (A curious thing indeed, as the same cannot be said for the toys he personally selects!)

Logical Assumptions

- When he mentions “living alone,” he means, “living alone with Lucius”. Lucius is an indoor cat, after all: it would be strange if he did not share his domicile with his beloved companion - As he speaks of (laments) time passing since his daughters were small, it’s quite likely many years have passed since they “left the nest”

Speculation

- His daughters demonstrate incredible devotion to their father as well as an interest in his affairs: this very pronounced attachment could be an immediate consequence of having lost their mother early in their lives. Taken a step further, it’s possible that upon entering adulthood they came to recognize his labors and sacrifice as a single parent--a tremendous feat of selflessness and love

[sondepoch]

Lighter (3/5)

Breaking the Collar

Nine months in the human trafficking circuit has destroyed every sense of normality you ever knew. For you, it's commonplace to be ordered on your knees for your owner, his clients, anyone else Childe deems necessary—and you've reached a point where you accept it this misery, just going along with the motions of life because there's nothing else to do.

Diluc and Kaeya change that.

They enter your life on a regular workday afternoon, stepping inside Childe's massive office under the pretense of sorting out a business deal, but a single hastily written message makes it clear that they're not here to hurt you: they're here to help you.

The only issue is that you have no idea how to escape Childe.

Fastened | Unlockable | Lighter | Breaking | Broken | Gone | ✔

MASTERLIST

There’s something demeaning about the outfit Childe has picked for you today. It’s nothing unlike what he had you wear when he last took you outside the apartment, when he brought you on a train to Xiangling’s restaurant, but the blouse and skirt he has you in today are looser than before, and skimpier, too. 

The thought confuses you until you realize that it’s because where you were previously dressed like a regular girl, in fairly modest clothes that were designed to shy away from attention, you’re now dressed like a slave once more: like a little sex toy that can only wear thin, loose clothes so her owner, alongside all her owner’s friends, can have easy access to the pretty tits and cunt beneath.

It should make you sick. 

Yet, as Childe slips his hand underneath your skirt to grip your thigh, the only thing that disgusts you is how easily you find yourself relaxing into his touch. 

“Angel,” Childe murmurs into your ear, voice hovering lowly under the quiet buzz of the van you both sit in. “Angel, I have a present for you.”

That catches your attention. You turn your head to your owner, eyebrows lifted in confusion, as Childe pulls a box from his pocket.

Immediately, you know what’s inside.

The first few gifts Childe gave you were all varied: the very first was, of course, the necklace he gave you in place of the ugly, metal collar all the other girls have to wear. The second was his jacket, too tattered for him to use anymore but literal paradise for someone like you, who had already grown used to spending every waking moment naked. Then, his presents began to come in the shape of services rather than material objects—the decision to allow you to sleep on a bed, the decision to let you eat better-quality meals, the decision to spare you from being sent to Scaramouche for a beating as punishment for a stupid blunder you once made—but after a certain period, Childe had granted you all the freedom he could give.

Then, his presents had to change.

He began gifting you jewels, all of them in different colors but always unfairly expensive, to make your collar sparkle.

You make no haste in opening the black, velvet box Childe gives you, eyes bright. You don’t think twice about how embarrassing it is that he’s conditioned you to associate these little gemstones (probably worth mere pennies to a man as wealthy as Childe) with happiness, but even you can’t keep the smile off your face as you snap open the box and see a blue twinkle staring back at you. 

“It’s a sapphire,” Childe explains, pulling the gemstone out by the short, silver chain it dangles from. “Since you told me that you like colorful stones.”

You remember saying that. It was true: being Childe’s favored toy meant that you were always by his side; it gave you no room for pastimes, and so you found that the most entertaining thing to do was toy with the shiny stones that dangled off your collar and angle them into the light to trace patterns into the ceiling. It’s an activity that works best with larger, colorful stones: the dainty diamonds Childe always used to gift you didn’t work half as well.

“Do you like it?” the man asks, staring down at you. “I thought you deserved a reward so behaving so well last time we went out. If you’re good this time as well, I’ll give you another one.”

I won’t be here for you to give me another one, you think. 

“I like it,” you say, ignoring how your heart instinctively speeds up with—is it fear? concern? hesitation?— when that thought runs through your mind. “Thank you, Sir.”

Childe grimaces.

“I mean, Ajax.”

Calling him by his name is still a hard habit to get into, but you find that the syllables roll off your tongue much smoother now. Alas, you shouldn’t need to worry about it too much longer. Not if today’s meeting with Diluc and Kaeya goes as planned.

“Here, lean forward so I can put it on you.”

The way you arch your neck forward is familiar. You and Childe have been in this position countless times before, him always being the one to fasten his gifts to your collar, and it shows in how quick Childe’s fingers are in attaching the short chain of the sapphire to your necklace. Within seconds, you feel the task’s completion as you lean your head back and smile at your owner, the weight around your neck marginally heavier than when you both stepped inside this van.

“It looks good,” Childe says, squeezing your thigh gently. “You look good.”

“Thank you,” you say like a good little slave. Then, you decide to go the extra mile. “Ajax.”

The man doesn’t respond to that, opting to glance out the window as his driver speeds down the highway that’ll doubtlessly bring you both to the office Diluc and Kaeya share, but you can see the edges of his lips curling upward. It’s rare, after all, for you to address him by name. No matter how much he loves it, your tongue still says “sir” on instinct, a little crack in the homey picture Childe is building with you in his mind.

It’s not like it matters, you think, stopping yourself from thinking too much about your owner before you can begin to feel bad. If all goes well, I won’t ever have to see him again.

The thought instinctively brings a smile to your face, but it falls just as fast.

If.

Looking back, the message Diluc and Kaeya gave you was cryptic. ‘WE CAN HELP YOU’ provides no accurate timeline to place your hopes in. The second message, ‘COME WITH TARTAGLIA NEXT WEEK AND WE CAN FREE YOU’ was of the same nature. Up til now, you’ve been vaguely interpreting their words to mean that they would free you immediately if you managed to go with Childe to this meeting. But the human trafficking world is so complicated, and you can’t help but think that things may be delayed even longer.

All you can do is hope for the best and pray that reality won’t disappoint.

“How much longer?” you ask your owner after the view outside the window has changed from a highway to a cityscape.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” Childe chuckles. “We should be there any time soon. Keep an eye out. Their office is in one of the big buildings.”

That doesn’t tell you much, given that nearly every building this van drives past is over fifteen stories high. 

You’re in the middle of scoffing at Childe’s poor description of the office when the car finally stops: and only then do you understand that when he said “one of the big buildings,” he meant the biggest fucking building in the entire city.

You’re gawking like a fool as Childe helps you out of the car, mentally overwhelmed at the sheer size of what has to be the tallest office in Snezhnaya. 

“It’s…” 

Big doesn’t begin to describe the grandeur of this place. It’s nothing you’d expect from two men who are working undercover to free people from human trafficking: it's got to be the most eye-catching thing you've ever seen, one hundred stories high or taller, with every inch of the exterior covered in wall-to-wall windows. It looks like an upscale version of Childe’s own office, and if you thought his building was lavish, then this is full-on opulent.

Your owner has to forcibly pull you forward to get you to move. 

You almost forget to tuck your precious jacket—the one you so foolishly forgot when you last went out in public, the one Childe insisted you bring this time in case you have another episode—underneath your arm because you’re so busy marveling at the exterior of the building, though you thankfully remember to do so right before the van door closes. 

“It’s nothing impressive,” Childe grumbles as he pulls you past the professional double doors. “Diluc and Kaeya are only renting the top ten floors here. They’re not even rich enough to purchase them.”

“Ten whole floors?” you ask, eyes round as you stare at the inside of the ground floor. Childe tugs you towards the elevator, and you’re just barely able to slow him down so you can stare at the marble floors, the expensive-looking paintings on the wall, the embodiment of wealth unlike anything you’ve ever seen. “Why do they need ten—”

“They’re sex traffickers, angel,” Childe tells you when the elevator doors shut. (You have to force yourself to refrain from marveling at how even this elevator seems posh and refined.) “They use the top floor for their own operations. The other nine are where they run their prostitution rings.”

Your face darkens at that. It must be the exact same as Childe’s office, where he has you and his other favored prostitutes up at the top with him, and all the girls he doesn’t want to show favoritism to are forced into the life they were meant to follow when they were brought into the human trafficking world: either as unpaid sex workers that are sold by the hour from Childe to other equally-awful clients or as human trafickees to be shipped to someone else if they prove to be too much trouble.

But then, you remember Diluc and Kaeya’s message.

‘WE CAN HELP YOU,’ they said.

There’s no way that they’re running a sex trafficking front up here. Childe must be wrong. It’s probably just a lie they told him to gain his trust so that they could best help you escape this life.

“They’re so arrogant,” Childe grumbles, crossing his arms. “I bet they chose this office just to piss me off. It’s bad business, too. They’re losing out on money by choosing such a fancy place. Not even the Snezhnayan sex work model will boost their profits.”

“What’s the Snezhnayan sex work model?”

“The system we use in the Fatui. It’s supposed to be the best, money-wise. You hand-train the elite girls as prostitutes so that the best ones become magnets for high-caliber clients. You sell off girls who don’t show promise early on. And then there’s a handful of average-quality, compliant girls you keep for the low-caliber clients that want a good fuck but can’t pay as much.” Childe folds his arms as he leans back against the elevator wall. “It's the most profitable method, even if it means that the girls you sell will always be low-quality.”

“Wouldn’t I be an elite girl?” you ask, staring at your owner. “You trained me, but I never had to work as a prostitute. And I only sometimes have to meet your clients, and—”

“You’re different,” Childe says, avoiding your eyes.

Immediately, you want to ask what he means by that. Unfortunately for you, the elevator doors open at that precise moment, and Childe leads you forward by the hand into an office that, now that you think about it, definitely was designed to upstage Childe’s own place of work.

“Come on, you can do it, baby.” A low coo from the left side of the room draws your attention, and your eyes widen in a mix of confusion, concern, and finally, horror. 

“Ignore Kaeya. Focus on my fingers. Relax your throat, doll, yes, just like that…”

Even Childe stiffens when he sees the three men splayed out on a couch: Diluc and Kaeya sandwiching a youthful-looking boy between them as Diluc shoves his hand down the boy’s throat and Kaeya strokes the boy’s small cock. 

For a moment, you don’t understand why the boy looks so wrecked, his braided hair dampened with sweat and his face covered in tears, but when your eyes watch as a trickle of sweat trails from the boy’s neck to his stomach, joining a copious amount of white fluid you can only imagine to be the result of countless orgasms, it’s clear that Kaeya’s overstimulating him. Add that to the way Diluc’s entire hand is slotted down the poor boy’s throat, and how the redhead is still stubbornly trying to get more inside, and it becomes clear that whatever this boy is feeling is far from pleasant.

The picture makes it irrevocably clear that this boy is to Diluc and Kaeya what you are to Childe. 

Instinctively, you imagine how you would feel if you were in such a position. Your worst memory under Childe, after all, is from the time when you were handed over to four men who fucked into your G-spot so vigorously that you cried at any sensation for hours. Your second worst memory is from the time when a client forced a massive dildo so big you couldn’t breathe down your throat and left you like that until Childe intervened. 

The idea of those two memories being combined into one makes you want to vomit. 

“Fucking hell,” Childe grunts once he’s past processing the image before him. “Get your toy out of here. Do you have to be so disgusting?”

“Oh, please,” Kaeya responds, not an ounce of hesitation in his voice. He doesn’t stop stroking the boy’s cock. “You had your little angel out during our last meeting. Let us have a little fun now, alright?”

“Hell no. Even I don’t dabble in…” Childe sneers when he sees how young the boy seems to be. “Children.”

Diluc laughs, a deep, rich sound that reverberates through the room. “He’s older than he looks. We’re not scummy enough to deal in children, either, Tartaglia.”

“You’re scummy enough to have to share,” Childe says, scoffing. “What, did you guys spend so much money paying for this building’s rent that you couldn’t afford more than one kid to suit both your needs? The two of you look pathetic, you know.”

“I wouldn’t call it pathetic,” Kaeya offers. “It’s more like we know exactly what we want. And if we both want the same thing, we’re not going to waste our time with…” The man’s single eye skirts over your figure with purpose. “Cheap replacements.”

“Really, now?” You can sense Childe getting offended for you. “You think your little toy is better trained than my angel?”

“I don’t think it, Tartaglia. I know it.” Kaeya grins. He gives the boy’s cock another few strokes, going at the same pace, the small, red-flushed thing twitching furiously in response. “Just watch.”

Kaeya abruptly pulls back from the boy, lifting his hand in the air for dramatic effect, and one, two, three seconds pass where nothing happens. The little organ he’d been stroking still quivers, either from overstimulation or from desire, but the boy suppresses his orgasm, and you can see the desperate, shallow breaths he tries to take from around Diluc’s hand.

Then, it happens.

“Cum, Venti.”

On command, the boy keens, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his hips spasm and jerk up into nothing. Venti’s cock looks abused, a thought demonstrated by how little cum actually shoots into the air and onto his stomach, the substance looking more watery than it looks healthy.

You grimace when you understand how far Venti must have been pushed to reach this point. 

The boy practically melts into Kaeya’s hold after the orgasm has left his body, boneless after something so intense, and the final shreds of resistance he’d been offering Diluc’s hand disappear as the redhead’s wrist edges deeper into his throat.

“Such a good boy, isn’t he?” Kaeya says, grinning as he strokes Venti’s hair, brushing the sweat-stained bangs from his forehead. “He’s ‘Luc’s favorite. We haven’t had any discipline issues from him in years. Same goes for the rest of our merchandise.”

Kaeya’s words are a shameless flex on Childe: a reminder that your owner’s girls are so often poorly-trained and that even you, the star of his trafficking business, are secretly planning on running away.

You don’t need to look up at your owner’s expression to see the raw annoyance plastered onto his face. 

“No discipline issues?” Childe grunts. “So if I bought him from you and ordered him to kill himself right now, he’d do it?”

There’s a beat of silence.

Whatever response Kaeya was expecting, that wasn’t it.

Finally, Diluc speaks up.

“Venti, much like your toy over there, isn’t for sale.” Diluc withdraws most of his hand from the boy’s mouth, leaving only the tips of his fingers in such that Venti cranes his neck forward to suckle at them. “But if you want him gone that much, it’s fine. He has to go to work now, anyway.”

You can feel your eyebrows shoot up at that. Kaeya watches your expression, and he laughs.

“Sorry, girlie. I know your master over there likes to exercise preferential treatment with his pets, but we don’t do that in Mondstadt.” Kaeya gently pushes Venti to his feet, holding his hand until the shake of the boy’s feet subsides. “All our toys have to work. Favoritism should only go so far in a world like this.”

With that, Kaeya pats Venti’s butt and sends the boy off, and you watch in a mix of awe and horror as he stumbles towards the elevator to “work.”

If it were real, you’d be mortified. 

Venti was overstimulated to tears, his legs wobbling the whole time as he stumbled past you, the apples of his fair cheeks flushed a feverish red. There was saliva dripping down his chin, cum still smeared on his stomach, and the reek of sweat and sex wafting off the entirety of his stumbling, nude form.

But you comfort yourself with the knowledge that it was all just an act. 

You close your eyes and hold your jacket closer to your body as the elevator releases a low ding, forcing yourself to remember the message Diluc and Kaeya left for you that filled your heart with so much hope. What happened with Venti just now looked bad, but you’re certain that it was all part of their master strategy to deceive Childe until you’re free from him.

(If there’s a sudden thump of a body hitting the ground and a low groan from behind the elevator doors as soon as they shut, you force yourself not to pay attention to it.)

“Fucking finally,” Childe mutters as soon as Venti is gone. He shuffles forward and flops down onto a couch, pulling you with him. “Listen, I don’t want to be here any more than you guys want me here. Let’s get this over with quickly, shall we?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kaeya mumbles, using a sanitized cloth to clean his hands before slipping his usual gloves back on. Next to him, Diluc does the same. “All we need to do is fix a transportation route for the merch, right?”

“Yeah,” Childe grunts. “I already have some ideas. I own a parent company that sells furniture. If we can legally frame our transactions under the branch of…”

You zone out as soon as they begin using human trafficking jargon you barely understand.

This meeting is much more civilized than the previous, if the whole incident with Venti can be forgotten. The jabs Diluc and Kaeya make towards Childe are much more subtle, popping up rarer, too, and Childe doesn’t openly taunt them with your body the way he did in the first meeting. 

It takes nearly an hour before your owner even remembers you, and even then, his touches remain somewhat innocent. He only ever ghosts his fingers against your thigh, oft going down to drum his fingers against your knee while he continues to work out the logistics of his business deal. The touches honestly end up keeping you on edge with how delicate they are, and it’s right when his fingers have finally flitted up to the innards of your thigh, right when you’re holding your breath, right when Diluc and Kaeya’s eyes are fixated on where his palm has crept beneath your skirt, that his phone rings.

Immediately, Childe’s hands are off you. 

“I have to take this,” he says, wrapping a protective arm over your shoulder as he beckons you to stand next to him. “In private.”

“Take the elevator down to the second floor if you want privacy,” Diluc offers. “It’s not being rented out, and there aren’t any cameras there.”

“Thanks,” your owner says, leading you towards the elevator. 

“Wait,” Kaeya calls, right as you’re about to step in behind Childe. You glance behind your shoulder to stare at him, and the devious expression on his face concerns you. 

Kaeya winks at you a second before Childe, too, turns to face him.

“Leave your girl here with us, will you? Give us a treat to nibble on to kill the time.”

Immediately, you think that Kaeya has said the wrong thing. Childe is a fiercely protective man, over you more than anything else. There’s no way he’d leave you in the hands of two men he barely even likes, and it’ll probably only cast suspicion in his mind to hear Kaeya ask for you so candidly.

You shut your eyes, instinctively preparing to hear Childe’s rejection.

Instead, his tone is light when he speaks, almost amused. “Finally seeing how high-quality she is, eh?” Your owner is smiling at Kaeya, not an ounce of irritation, anger, or protectiveness on his face. “Fine. This call will take a while anyway. Just make sure you don’t wreck her too much.”

With that, the redhead steps into the elevator and leaves you with nothing more than a featherlight kiss to the temple, and you’re standing there, dumbfounded, for a full ten seconds before you process what has happened.

Alone, you realize with a start. I'm finally alone with them. 

Immediately, you sprint forward, grabbing Kaeya’s hand in an attempt to tug him off the couch, not caring about how you dropped your jacket on the floor in your rush.

“Come on,” you say, eyes wide. “If—if you want to set me free, we have to go now while he’s busy!”

But Kaeya doesn’t move an inch off the couch, instead pulling you onto his lap with a strength you didn’t realize he had. 

“What are you—”

“Shh, baby. We have to put on a show in case Tartaglia comes back, yeah?” You feel Diluc shuffle behind you, and the redhead is quick to wrap his hands around your hips from behind. 

The slowness, the casualness, the feigned normalcy of their actions dumbfounds you.

“Why aren’t we leaving?” you whisper, hands going up to grip at the fabric of Kaeya’s suit. “You said you’d free me if I managed to come to this meeting, so—”

“Relax,” Diluc mumbles into your ear, gloved hands sliding beneath your blouse to grope at your breasts. “Freeing you isn’t something we can do at the drop of a hat. It’s not just about you being here.”

“Right,” Kaeya says, his fingers slowly undoing the zipper on your skirt. “We asked you to come to this meeting to first check if it would even be possible to free you. A test, if you will. We weren’t sure you’d pass it. But if Tartaglia is willing to give you enough freedom to wander around with him, we figure you should also have enough freedom to do what needs to be done for us to free you.”

“What?” you whisper, trying to force back the tears that are pooling in your eyes. This is everything you’d feared: that Diluc and Kaeya’s idea of freeing you would be more complicated than you’d realized and that the whole process would require more time. “What do you need me to do to be free?”

“Aw, don’t cry.” Kaeya tosses your skirt to the floor right before he goes up to wipe away the tears from your face. “It’s not hard. We just need you to get ahold of Tartaglia’s fake documents on you.”

“His...what?”

Confusion is ultimately what brings a halt to your tears, and you cock your head naively at Kaeya right as Diluc speaks up.

“Fake documents,” Diluc explains, beginning to rub the front of his pants against your naked arse. “Every human trafficker has a series of documents for their merchandise that they can use for transportation and claim purposes. We need to get yours from Tartaglia.”

“Why can’t you take me away without them?” you plead, still clinging to the hope that you might be able to go free today. “Why do I have to—”

“Because, depending on how smart Tartaglia is, he can use those documents to rightfully get you back, even if we set you free.”

“What?” you ask. “How?”

“Think. If he has you listed on those documents as a minor, then the State can only do so much to protect you. Especially if he has himself listed down as your guardian. Even if you try to speak out against him, the Snezhnayan police won’t care. They’ll send you straight back to him, and you can bet that whatever freedoms you have now will be forever lost to you the second time around.”

“B-but, if I can prove that I’m not the person in his fake documents—”

“You can’t prove that,” Kaeya interrupts. “If you’re lucky, Tartaglia’s fake documents would be low-quality. But if he was smart, which we both know he is, then his documents will be of a high-enough quality that people will believe them when they see them. And unless you happen to have your official documents on you, there’s nothing you can do to protect yourself except steal the papers from Childe before he can use them.”

The annoyed, almost bored inflection of Kaeya’s voice shakes you to the core. They rattle this information off so quickly, so intuitively, so earnestly that you have no choice but to believe them.

“Okay,” you whisper, voice shaky. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll get the documents you want.”

“Do you know where he keeps them?” Diluc asks.

“I think so. He has a locked briefcase that he always keeps in his office. I don’t know the combination to open it, but I should be—”

“Good,” Kaeya interrupts. “You seem like a smart girl. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Y-yeah,” you say, hesitant. The man’s words seemed like a compliment, but his tone felt much more derisive. “Um, is that all, or is there anything else I—”

“That’s all,” Diluc says. “Two weeks from now is when we’ll be ready to get you out of here. We’ll be staying in the hotel across from Tartaglia’s apartment. The two of us will be in rooms 213 and 214. Come find us at any time, and as long as you have the documents on you, we’ll be able to set you free.”

Your heart beats a little faster at that. 

“Really?” you whisper, almost not believing it. The goal you’ve been given is finally real: it’s tangible, so clear that you can already see yourself using something sharp to tear into Childe’s briefcase and retrieve your documents before you’ll finally be able to live a life you can be proud of.

Kaeya smiles when he sees the look on your face.

“Really,” he whispers, reaching a rough, gloved hand up to cup your cheek with infinite care. The kiss he coaxes you into is gentle, soft, and sweet. It’s everything he is, everything Childe isn’t. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning forward to wrap the man in a hug. You don’t care about the fact that Diluc has unbuttoned and pulled off your blouse now, leaving you effectively nude as you embrace Kaeya, but he doesn’t seem to mind either. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” the man whispers in response, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

The next minutes are marked by more peace than you’ve felt in months. Sandwiched between Diluc and Kaeya, you feel oddly safe. The roughness of their gloves stops bothering you, the silky brushes of their hair stop tickling you, and the closeness of their bodies, the warmth and the heat that radiates off them as naturally as light off the sun, only relaxes you in their arms.

When Kaeya begins playing with the jewels on your necklace, you don’t stop him.

“Tartaglia gave you this?” he asks, tugging gently at a diamond. 

“Yeah. They're all presents for being good.”

You can’t help the smile that blooms on your face as you say that: it’s like a reminder that you’re special, that you’re important, that even though you’re down in a world where your life isn’t even your own, you still have worth.

Behind you, Diluc’s fingers reach over your shoulder and begin lifting up individual stones to the light. “These are expensive,” he mutters, twisting a ruby among his leathered fingers. “More expensive than what someone would normally give to a slave.”

“I know,” you say. “It's because this is supposed to incentivize my good behavior, and—”

“No,” Diluc interrupts, voice soft. “It’s supposed to manipulate you.”

Your voice catches at that, and you glance at Kaeya for confirmation because you doubt it can be true. Not when Childe always seems so sweet when he gifts you these presents. Not when you've come to look forward to them as the one light in your life in this dark, dark world. But when the blue-haired man’s face twists into sympathy, your heart falls.

“B-but...I like…”

“You’re supposed to like it,” Diluc’s voice, rich and deep, rumbles out into your ear. ”But you need to understand that it’s not a necklace, doll. It’s a collar.”

“I know that,” you say, now wrapping your fingers around the chain protectively. “But I don’t—I don’t want—”

Kaeya kisses you, bringing two hands to your cheeks to cradle your face in his fingers.

“We’re not going to take it away from you, baby.”

He kisses you again.

“Relax.”

Those words soothe you in a way you can’t quite explain; the idea of losing your necklace, even being told that your necklace was a ploy to manipulate you (though you already knew that, to some extent), was unsettling. You much prefer the notion that it’s an innocuous gift: mainly because you’ve grown far too attached to it for it to represent human trafficking and all the pain you’ve had to endure thus far.

But, right when you’ve calmed yourself and forcibly stopped yourself from panicking, you feel a sharp tug on your neck.

“What did you—”

“Nothing,” Diluc says, holding two gemstones—two diamonds, one blue and one pink—in his palm. They still have their chain attached to them, but that's it: there's nothing connecting the diamonds to your necklace, the chains having been ripped off.  You feel your expression change as you see what he's done. “Just—”

“What did you do?!” you blurt, panic beginning to overtake your heart. “Childe—Ajax—he’s going to notice! I—I’ll get in trouble, and—”

“Shh,” Kaeya whispers, trying to calm you down with a kiss, but you pull back before his lips can touch you. “It’s not—”

“Put it back. Put it back!”

You've turned around and are about to hit Diluc when the man grips both your wrists, holding you with such a force that it freezes you. The look in his eyes is fierce, fiery, red eyes shining brighter than the rubies dangling off your neck—and for a single second, you can’t help but think that the man looks furious. 

Then, the expression is masked, and you’re both left calmer for it.

“Tartaglia won’t notice. Unless he makes a habit of regularly counting what’s on your neck, only you’ll be able to feel the difference.” Right. That makes sense. Childe likes to look at your necklace, but you doubt that he’ll actually know how many presents he’s gifted you. Not when he barely touches the thing, dexterous fingers always reaching out to feel your body instead. 

“And besides,” Diluc says, easing you back into your earlier position with your back resting against his chest. “It’s a promise. The two diamonds.”

“A promise?”

In front of you, Kaeya smiles in understanding.

“Right. It’s a promise, baby. We’ll give you these two diamonds back once we’ve freed you, and until then, they’re our weight to bear so that every time we look at them, we remember that we’re waiting for you so we can set you free.”

“It...is?” you ask, hesitant. You haven’t been in the outside world in a while; is this how people do promises now?

“Yes,” Diluc mumbles, kissing your ear as he strokes your hair. Every brush of his fingers against your head instinctively relaxes you, until you’re almost as calm as you were before he took two stones off your necklace. “Do you trust us to return them to you?”

It’s a disguised question.

What Diluc is really asking is this: Do you trust us?

“Yes,” you breathe. It’s the only right answer.

Then, the two men go silent. They focus on relaxing you once more, running their gloved fingers up and down the sides of your body, almost massaging your skin as you sit between them. 

Unfortunately for you, all you can think about is your necklace.

It’s the first time you’ve had it be lighter than before: Childe only ever adds to it; he never takes. Now, right when you’d grown used to the weight of the sapphire he attached this morning, you’ve got the odd situation of it being even lighter than it had been when you woke up.

You know that you should feel freer now: less chained down to Childe and to the Fatui.

But deep down inside, you miss the weight.

Minutes later, when you’re a little less emotionally overwhelmed and a little more relaxed as the two men gently run their arms around your body, another thought surfaces.

“A-also,” you say, hesitant. “Um, everything you said at the beginning of this meeting…”

“All lies,” Diluc says, pulling you closer against his broad chest after you slink too deep into Kaeya’s embrace. “Tartaglia had a negative impression of us coming in, so we had to play to that. Everything we said was just for show.”

Your shoulders sag in relief at that, but another thought continues to poke at your brain.

“And Venti?” you finally manage to ask, remembering how ruined the boy had looked as he stumbled away from the two men holding you.

“He’s a masochist,” Kaeya blurts. “We asked him beforehand if he’d be okay with participating. Not sure he realized how all-out we were going to go, but I’m certain that he enjoyed himself.”

That...makes sense! You’ve heard before about masochists, and looking back, everything Diluc and Kaeya did to the boy really did seem to be for the sake of his pleasure. You’ve heard countless times about overstimulation being something sexy, something desired, something liked by the select few who could bear it. Similarly, the way Diluc had his hand down Venti’s mouth...that’s the equivalent of Childe having you suck on his fingers during sex, right? 

You laugh a little when you realize that everything you’d been scared about had an explanation. You should have known better than to doubt Diluc and Kaeya, two people who are saving you from hell itself. If anything, you should be on your knees thanking them instead of raising questions over what they had to say to be able to help you out.

“I’m sorry for all the questions,” you confess, sheepish as Kaeya’s fingers begin toying with your breasts. “I’m just...really nervous. And a little scared.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Kaeya asks, a tinkling laugh spilling from his lips. “We were the same way when we first came out here to save people from human trafficking.”

“Really?” you ask, eyes round. “Do you guys do this for a living? How many people do you save?”

“Uh...whoever we can, really. We use our covers as human traffickers to identify targets that would be easiest for us to free. You seemed like one. Before you, we helped that boytoy from Zhongli. Before him was some Khaenri'ahi girl, and…”

Zhongli? You ask yourself, trying to figure out where you know that name from. It’s familiar, so familiar, and…

“Wait!” You blurt, sitting up straight and nearly knocking Diluc backward in the process. “You guys were responsible for freeing Xiao? The one who’s always by Zhongli’s side?”

You remember the short little man, beautiful in his own right, from when Childe had a business meeting with Zhongli. That was the first time you learned of Xiao, the last time being just last week when you heard Scaramouche say that the green-haired boy had somehow disappeared. 

Hope blooms in your heart as soon as you realize what that disappearance was: the successful removal of one more slave from the human trafficking network, something you're next in line for.

Diluc lets out a light laugh when he sees how your entire face has brightened up now that you have genuine proof that these two men are for real, that they’ve helped people escape in the past and that they’ll help you escape in the near future. 

“Wait, if you guys freed Xiao, then were you also the ones responsible for setting, uhm…”

Your brain blanks out as you try to remember the second person Scaramouche mentioned when speaking to Childe. What was her name? Amine? you think, but that sounds off. Umino? Lumina? You continue to guess names in your head, brain fixating on Childe’s interaction with the other Fatui executive until finally, you remember her name.

“Lumine!” you declare with pride. “Were you the ones who set her free, too?”

Kaeya stares at you with a shocked expression. His lips part and his face freezes, eyebrows lifted comically high on his forehead, and you turn around to glance at Diluc, but the redhead is in a similar state.

“You’re telling me,” Kaeya begins, “That Lumine...”

He can’t bring himself to finish, and so Diluc steps in to complete the question: “Lumine belonged to Tartaglia?”

You glance back and forth between the two men, unsure of why they seem to be regarding this news with such shock.

“I think so?” you say, now beginning to doubt yourself. “I’m not sure. But Scaramouche said something like that to him, so I—”

You’re cut off by a sharp cackle of laughter from Kaeya. You stare at him in shock, and then behind you, Diluc has begun chuckling, and then Kaeya’s laughing even louder, and within seconds, both men are laughing their heads off at something you barely understand. 

“Oh my gods!” Kaeya blurts between fits of almost-hysterical giggles. “You’re telling me that Tartaglia? Fucking Tartaglia? Was the one to lose Lumine?” He laughs some more, loud and merry and cheerful. "So I was right when I called you a—a—" Kaeya stutters in his laughter. "A cheap replacement?"

You stare at the blue-haired man in confusion, not understanding a word of what he's saying nor why he seems to find it so hilarious that Childe and Lumine are connected. You want to open your mouth to ask why, but you have to stop yourself because it's at this precise moment that your owner returns; and this is the picture that Childe sees when the elevator dings with the announcement of his arrival: you, completely nude and squashed between the two Mondstadt business partners, Kaeya in front of you, laughing his ass off as if you’ve told the joke of the century, and Diluc behind you, the most stoic man in the room losing his composure in an equally graceless manner.

“What the fuck…” your owner mutters at the sight, but seeing Childe only makes the two men around you laugh harder.

It takes a full minute for them to calm down, and in that minute, you rise from their couch and move back towards Childe like an obedient slave, only wearing your clothes when Childe nods at you that it’s okay for you to do so.

“So,” Childe deadpans once Diluc and Kaeya have finally stopped laughing, though Kaeya still releases a giggle every now and then. “Did my girl tell a funny joke or something? You guys sounded like a bunch of dying hyenas.”

“Something like that,” Kaeya says, smiling at Childe, but you sense something deadly in his eyes. 

“Alright, well…” Childe awkwardly tries to steer the conversation back to what they’d been discussing before. “I guess the final details will have to be ironed out once I actually use this company as a cover to ship the girls to you, but is there anything else we need to talk about? Transportation-wise, we seem solid.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kaeya drawls, a strange smile on his face. “But, real quick, I want to talk about prices one more time.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Childe grunts, annoyed. “We already agreed on five-hundred thousand mora per shipment. Don’t try to haggle with me again on this.”

“Ordinarily, you’d be right,” Diluc says, crossing his arms. “But we just learned some interesting information.”

Childe’s eye twitches in annoyance. “Right,” he blurts, leaning back. “What is it? Did you find out that I’m giving a better deal to someone else? Because that sucks, but that’s how this business works with new partners. I’m not going to—”

“It’s not that,” Diluc interrupts, lifting a hand. “It’s moreso that before, we thought we were purchasing merchandise from a valued, respected dealer.”

Diluc’s lips quirk into a cruel grin. 

“Not from the infamous idiot trafficker who lost Lumine.”

You can hear the ice settle over the room before you feel it, the abrupt, chilling silence suddenly making every second feel like an hour. You’re almost scared to move, scared to pull your eyes to your owner who, for the first time since you met him, looks like the child his codename was assigned for.

Childe doesn’t try to speak, but his every thought is displayed in his eyes alone, the cerulean blues giving insight to a hurricane of emotions wilder than the sea. In his eyes is fear, horror, despair, and pain, so much pain. 

Something about the look on his face makes your heart break.

Diluc and Kaeya don’t care.

“I think charging five hundred thousand mora is a tad much for a douche who almost brought the entire industry down. Hell, you should be paying us for even being willing to deal with you, but…” Kaeya glances at Diluc, a single blue eye flitting down to where Diluc extends three fingers against his knee. “We’ll settle for a drop in the price instead. Three-hundred thousand mora per shipment. That good with you, Tartaglia?”

You’re expecting your owner to bargain, to argue, to scoff, to do something other than stare into the distance with those bright blue eyes that now look more blank than anything else. 

When you hear Childe mutter a meek “Okay,” you nearly recoil in shock.

Even Kaeya is surprised. “R-really? Damn. Actually, I think we should go even lower, y’know? Every trafficker in the world was scared for their life because of you, so maybe drop the price some more as reparations for that? Whaddya say, two hundred thousand? Per shipment?”

You stare at your owner, silently begging him to do something. Even you can tell that he’s being taken advantage of now, and that awful look in his eyes is something that even you’re unfamiliar with.

“Okay.”

“Fu...okay then? But also, you were kind of a dick to us last time, so how about you make it one hundred thousand? Seems more fair to me.”

“O—”

You grab your owner’s hand before he can agree, and the touch seems to snap Childe out of the awful fog that had been wrapped around his head. The look in his eyes is only less marginally troubled when he abruptly stands up, gripping your hand in a silent plea for you to move with him.

“I’m going,” Childe announces. 

He begins walking away so fast that you just barely have time to grab your jacket before you’re at his heels.

The man completely ignores Diluc and Kaeya as he waits for the elevator to open with a rigid posture, seeming to feel uncomfortable or fearful or panicked or a mix of all three. Kaeya begins laughing behind you both, and you almost want to tell him to stop: tell him that yes, Childe is an awful human trafficker and yes, you hate him as well—but the poor man looks like he’s on the verge of having a panic attack, and you know first-hand how awful a feeling that is. 

You’re grateful when the elevator finally opens, more grateful when the doors close and you and Childe are finally in isolation together. 

Only then, in the silence of the box as it moves you both down to the ground floor, do you hear Childe’s shaky breathing. It’s jagged, uneven. Then, you take note of the way his hands are clenched into fists, palms enclosed so tight that his arms are shaking—and despite everything he’s done to you, you feel some semblance of pity for him.

“Ajax,” you mumble, hoping that the name will calm him. “Relax.”

A moment of silence.

“I am relaxed,” he responds, and when you glance over at him, he’s completely back to normal: breathing even and palms loose.

His eyes, though, are just as pained as when the two of you were sitting upstairs on that couch. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re the one who let it slip that Lumine and Childe were connected. Even if you don’t understand the scope of what you said, it's clear that it had an impact. “I didn’t—”

“It’s not your fault,” Childe says, not looking at you. “Don’t apologize.”

More silence. It feels heavy, unlike the usual, comfortable stretches of quiet that you and Childe like to bask in.

“What...were they talking about?” you ask quietly, still staring at your owner. “Diluc and Kaeya said that—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

A moment of silence.

It feels so heavy that it seems to crush you under its weight.

“Who is she? Lumine?”

More silence. 

This time, Childe is the one to break it. 

“The only girl I ever loved before you.”

That’s a lie, and you know it. If Childe loved you, he wouldn’t be bringing you around to meetings, dressing you like a cheap slave, and handing you off to other men to flex how ‘high-quality’ you are. If Childe loved you, you would be long gone from the human trafficking circuit because he would have set you free. If Childe loved you, he wouldn’t force you to stay by his side because he’s your abuser, your trafficker, the monster that haunts your life. 

Most importantly, if Childe loved you, he would have given you a proper answer to your question. Not some flimsy skirt-around that only furthers his attempts to manipulate you into loving him back.

Your eyebrows furrow the slightest as you feel the elevator hit the ground floor, brain still focused on everything Diluc and Kaeya said. Everything Childe didn’t want to talk about. Lumine.

Curiosity begs you to stick around and learn the truth.

Logic, reasoning, and the desire to lead a life of your own tell you that you’ll be long gone from Snezhnaya before that’ll ever happen. 

MASTERLIST

Fastened | Unlockable | Lighter | Breaking | Broken | Gone | ✔

Word count: 7.9k

Notes: eyyyy i'm alive! i promise i never forgot about this fic, it's just that after i missed the original due date, my mind was just like 'eh, it's already late, what's a few more days?' and that's the story of how this is two months late. thank you to all the kind commenters from the last chapter - to the people who checked in on me, ily; to the people who sent me those wholesome asks on tumblr, ily ily; and to the people who made guesses on what would happen in future chapters - guess what :D you acc helped me shape this :3 i originally meant for lumine to be a passing thing mentioned once and never again, but she'll end up being important for chapter 4 ^^ so thank you to everyone who'll still be here after i disappeared for so long. hope you liked this chapter (lmk your thoughts!) and i can't wait to see you all in the finale <3

Comment & Like

Next Update: 6/11

I do not own the rights to Genshin Impact or any of the characters within it.

[jay-works]

Hi, I saw your comment about rayon and how it can be made from the by products of other processes, which is extremely cool… I was wondering if you have any advice you’re willing to give on finding the more sustainable rayon?I’ve been concerned about using bamboo because I read that it uses some very toxic chemicals during production and some factories that produce it have polluted rivers and communities nearby.

I have eucalyptus yarn which is apparently produced in a safer manner (a closed loop system iirc?) and feels amazing, but I’d love to hear if you’ve got any other tips or recommendations please!

Hi! Aw, thanks for reaching out. I think this is the first time I've had anything I've written get this much traction!

I'm gonna preface by saying that my formal professional experience around textile science is one course, so there's likely people who can speak on this better than me, but I did some digging and got you some sources for yourself.

So rayon is a class of fabrics with a number of different 'makes', and every different name represents a different process. Sometimes that difference is just the base material used (lyocell is made of eucalyptus trees and modal is made of beech trees for example, but both use the same method of manufacturing, which I'll touch on). Sometimes the difference is the method of manufacturing. Tencel brand rayons (the two I mentioned above) have a different manufacturing process to viscose or acetate. So if you know what 'type' of rayon your material is, that'll inform most of your buying decision.

Rayons are made by dissolving plant material in chemical solvents, and then extruding that plant goo through another chemical bath that restabilizes the goo into yarn filaments that can be worked with.

This basic process is universal for all rayons, but within those steps are a lot of things that manufacturers can tweak to change how the process works, or to change how the end material behaves. Generally speaking, the faster a rayon is produced, the less expensive it will be- but it'll also be a lower quality product and the chemical byproducts are harsh/need disposal.

But textile scientists have been working on this issue for a while, and every new iteration of rayon runs better than earlier ones. Chemicals that can be recycled and reused are more expensive, and tweaking stages of the process to make better fabrics adds time to the process. Rayon can definitely be sustainable- it just hasn't been considered popular to make it that way until these last couple decades.

This might all seem extraneous info, but the complexity of it is why it's hard to definitively call an entire class of fabrics 'sustainable' or not. So here is my guide on sustainable rayon purchasing!

-if the garment or fabric bolt shares the brand name of the rayon it is, that's a good sign. You can google the name of it for specifics, but also, if they have a tag advertising the brand of rayon it is, they usually have a blurb on a tag about why the brand is special.

-Anything made under the TENCEL brand is the best stuff on the market re: sustainable practices. Modal and Lyocell are both under the Tencel name. Exactly what you said- these ones operate on a closed loop system where the chemicals and water are re-used for their respective purposes. They also use crops that are fast growing without as much need for water to process.

-Avoid the bargains unless you can verify the source of the rayon. If the base price is excitingly cheap (garment or fabric), the rayon is definitely gonna be low quality.

-Shop from like-minded, small businesses. Fabric shops that have a smaller curated selection are more likely to carry more expensive but higher quality products. If they have spent money on the good stuff, they almost always let you know in the product description.

-if you want rayon but can't get the good stuff, a rayon blended with other natural fibres is a decent compromise from a mitigated harm perspective.

-TO AVOID LIKE THE PLAGUE: Acetate, viscose, bemberg, 'vintage rayon'. The earliest makes of rayon are temperamental to water, heat, and friction (severly so- the earliest makes of rayon would dissolve in water!). They do not stand the test of time, and the older the method, the harsher its manufacturing process.

I'll say one last thing: although sustainable practices ask us to prioritize thrifting and reusing, remember to also consider the investment of your money. While it's ethical to thrift, it's not doing what it's supposed to if you're purchasing things that need frequent replacement. When it counts, buying one thing new that will stay with you for years will be more sustainable than buying x6 of it secondhand over the same span of time.

This got way longer than it needed to be, sorry! Too lazy to edit. Here's some sources:

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rayon

The sources in the wikipedia article are also an excellent place to dig further. Hope this helps!

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Interruptions

Summary: Ada’s twin sister takes a more active role in her brothers’ company. Yet that means she has frequent run-ins with Alfie Solomons who she is less than fond of.

Requested by @bangbap

            To be fair, Helen didn’t hate Alfie Solomons as much as she hated other people. There was a clear hierarchy of the men that her brother did business with. Alfie was somewhere around the middle. She found him arrogant, overbearing, and aloof with a bit of a god-complex mixed in. But she didn’t get to pick and choose who she worked with as a part of the Shelby Company Ltd.

            Helen didn’t feel like she owed her brothers anything but seeing as her twin, Ada, took no interest in the company, she felt as if she might as well help. She was very close with Polly and took comfort under her aunt’s wing, learning all she could.

            Still, there were days when she wished she had followed Ada’s route. Taking a salary and living nicely in London. One of those days was trekking all the way out to London, Camden Town more specifically.

            Her brothers were all too busy to bring paperwork to Alfie. While Arthur had some reservations about their younger sister going, the paperwork was important in upholding the fragile relationship between the Camden Jews and the Blinders. Besides, everything Helen learned was from either her brothers or Polly. She didn’t go down without a fight.

 ~~~~~~~~

            Ollie recognized the woman as she approached the bakery. “Morning, Miss Shelby.” He greeted politely although there was a hint of confusion on his face.

            “How are you, Ollie?” Helen took no issue with Alfie’s assistant. The young man seemed to do his best and had a personality very opposite of his boss.

            “I’m well…but we weren’t expecting you.” He admitted. There was nothing on Alfie’s agenda that had anything to do with the Shelbys.

            “Tommy confirmed with him over the phone that I would be coming out today.” She replied.

            “Right…I guess there was a mix-up.”

            “Well, this will only take a moment.” Helen smiled tightly and went to go through the double doors.

            Ollie looked a little panicked, following her close behind. “I should warn you not to trouble him. He’s in a mood.”

            “So am I. I’ve had to travel all the way to London to do my brothers’ dirty work. I’m not exactly in the best mood either.” She didn’t slow down, striding down the hall toward Alfie’s office.

            “It wouldn’t be wise-”

            “I’ve dealt with him before; I can handle it.” And that was that. There was no stopping her as she knocked on the door.

            “Fuck off!” Alfie’s angry voice came from the other side.

            “It’s Helen Shelby, I’ve got contracts that need signing.” She didn’t waver.   

            There was a pause before heavy footsteps crossed the office and the door flung open. “What part of fuck off do you not understand, love?” Alfie stood in the doorway with an intimidating stance.

            “What don’t you understand about these contracts need signing?” She retorted before slipping past him and making herself comfortable in his office. “You knew I was coming, oh hello Cyril, Tommy called you and confirmed. It’s not my fault, oh yes I see you Cyril that’s a good boy, that you can’t keep track of your appointments.”

            Alfie turned around bewildered that she had pushed her way in. The nerve of some people. “Love, I could shoot you right now, yeah, just on the account of you fucking trespassing into me office.”

            Helen dropped the stack of paper on his desk and sat down to pet Cyril. At least the dog was happy to see her. “Then you’d have more Shelbys trespassing, wouldn’t you?”

            Alfie grumbled obscenities under his breath. She’d called his bluff more than enough times. Both of them were highly aware that he would never bring her harm, but it was the only threat he had in his arsenal. No other threats worked on her. After a few months of their professional relationship, Alfie found that she was a mix of her brothers. That was the worst thing about her. She had the calm, stoic nature of Tommy but had the temper of Arthur when she so chose.       

            “You just have to sign a couple of papers and I’ll be gone.”

            “I may not sign them just on the fucking principle,” Alfie responded stubbornly.

            “Oh God, Alfie, please don’t act like a child.” Helen rolled her eyes.

            “I’m acting like a child? You’re the one who barged her way in here without a fucking care in the world.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll reschedule a day with your brother. Get out.”

            “I came all the way from Birmingham, I’m not leaving without a fucking signature.” She stood up to stare him down.

            “Well, you can think about your manners on your way back to that shithole.”

            She scoffed. “My manners?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Oh, for Christ-never mind. Fuck it.” She gathered the papers on the desk. “I’m not wasting my time with you. But you’re the one who will have to answer to Tommy.” She spat before storming out of the office.

            “Like I’m scared of your brother!” He yelled after her. The sound of her heels on the concrete floor faded away. There was no trace of her left. Alfie hated that he felt a pang of emptiness in her absence.

~~~~~~~~~~ 

            Tommy exchanged words with Alfie and a week later, Helen was sent back to Camden Town despite her protests.

            Ollie wasn’t at the door, so she let herself in. She passed the assistant on the way to Alfie’s office.

            “He’s expecting you.” He confirmed.

            “Oh, good. The man can finally remember something for once.” Helen replied sarcastically as she knocked on the door.

            “Come in.” At least it was a nicer reply than last time.

            Helen walked in. “Are you going to behave this time or am I going to have to go back empty-handed again?”

            Alfie leaned back in his desk chair, arms crossed, half-moon glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. “Depends.”

            “On what?”

            “On your attitude.”

            “You want me to grovel or something? May I remind you; you were the one who caused the fuss last time.”

            Alfie tutted his tongue and shook his head. “You’ve learned too much from your brothers.”

            “I’m not my brothers.” She decided to sit down instead of arguing on her feet. “They lack my charm.”

            He laughed and shook his head. “You Shelbys and your charm.” He leaned forward and lazily sorted through the paperwork she set down on his desk.

            “Oh, please just sign them. Don’t play around.”

            But each of his movements was deliberate. Slow and careful to increase their time together. Alfie couldn’t put his finger on why he liked Helen so much. After all, she had most of the Shelby qualities that drove him up the wall. Yet, he could tolerate her for hours. He enjoyed their banter and it didn’t hurt that he thought she was beautiful.

            Helen raised an eyebrow at him. “Well?”

            “Well, what?”

            “Do you need a pen? I’ve got one.”  She began to rummage through her purse.

            “Tell you what,” He tapped his knuckles against the desktop. “I’ll sign ‘em, but not here.”

            “Alf-”

            “Just hear me out, aye? There’s a place on Regent’s we can go to.”

            Helen paused and recollected herself. “I’m sorry. Alfie Solomons, are you asking me on a date?”

            He cleared his throat and shrugged. “S’pose it depends on if you want to call it that.”  

            “Well…” She subconsciously fixed her hair. “If my brothers found out they would kill you.”

            “They want to kill me for a lot of reasons, love. But I understand.”

            “Do you understand that our meeting at this place on Regent’s will be business?”

            Alfie narrowed his eyes. She had a small smirk on her lips. “Right…right, business. Business.” He nodded in affirmation. He understood.

            Helen couldn’t help but laugh softly. “All this time you’ve been giving me trouble.”

            “Well, you Shelbys are attracted to trouble. So, to keep you around…”

            “You stirred up trouble.” She never thought her second trip to Camden would result in such a way. And yet…it felt right. Maybe she’d been waiting all this time. Being a Shelby was thrilling in its own right. But sneaking around with Alfie Solomons? It felt like electricity coursing through her veins.

            “So?”

            “So, I’ll go to my sister’s home to get ready for our meeting. You can pick me up there.” She stood up and lingered by his desk.

            “Ada won’t tell your brothers?”

            “No, she won’t notice where I’ve gone.”

            Alfie nodded and stood up as well. “Erm, I’ll walk you out then.” He offered.

            But Helen stopped at the door and waited until he got close to her. Feeling that jolt of thrill, she kissed his cheek.

            He stopped in his tracks as if he’d completely frozen.

            She looked smugly at him. “That’s for making me come out here a second time, Solomons.” She murmured before going on her way.  

            “Fucking hell.” He grinned and watched her leave.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @biba3434 @kimmietea @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe @evelynshelby

PB Masterpost

[smol-nevi]

I don't generally make this kind of thing a habit, but I think if you happen to be on the Crystal RP Discord, aka @crystal-rp-ffxiv, you should probably be aware of this kind of behavior, so here goes.

If you're on Crystal RP and the admin team decides they don't like you, you're going to be living under a microscope while they wait for you to mess up, if not bait you, probably while making up conspiracies about you as well. As for how I know this, I was a moderator for about a week's duration and saw it first-hand.

Unapologetically lengthy post. Receipts in the link above, long version below the cut.

From the first time I looked in the mod chat I knew something was wrong. I read backwards in the channel, thinking I'd acclimate myself and see what kind of rules precedents had been set and that sort of thing. I mostly just found out that they had it out for a particular member (at the time using the name Jericho) for not much reason. They'd spent a troubling amount of time over the past few months watching him and another member like vultures, believing them to be the same person and waiting for them to make some kind of mistake that would justify banning both of them...despite keeping different schedules, having different personalities and typing habits, and visibly being two different people. The admin team had come to the conclusion that Jericho was a troll who wanted to make them look bad, and anything he said or did was scrutinized to a ridiculous degree for evidence that would corroborate their belief.

Except none of the things they believed at all were true: he'd had a minor argument via DM with the head admin Benjimir Thursby's wife, Tessariel Aerlinn, who had made an overly broad statement about anime and Asian culture. Jericho had told her that overgeneralization about 'Asian culture' is potentially racist, and she became extremely angry, saying that because she's Asian, she can't be racist against Asians. After that, it seemed that Jericho was considered fair game for whatever retaliatory actions the two of them could justify.

Even a cursory glance at actual racism in Asia pokes Tessariel's statement entirely full of holes, and having personally read the conversation I didn't see anything actually inaccurate in his statement even if she believed it didn't apply to her. I asked what he had done that would merit such a response, because it felt very disproportionate to anything I'd ever seen him do publicly, and that was what I was told. The exchange via DMs had been screencapped and kept in a channel for evidence, and while I didn't get a copy of it, I did read it, and I said that I thought it sounded awfully one-sided and punitive and would have been much better as an actual conversation. I also expressed that I was concerned how much of the channel had been solely devoted to what was basically a witch hunt, considering that some of the server members had over the course of the past couple of months commented that the admins' behavior towards Jericho seemed biased.

I basically got a pat on the head and told that my opinion was "valued" but wrong. This would happen a lot over the course of the week.

Shit continued to escalate. Their favorite punching bag, who was acutely aware of the grudge by now and probably trying to be nice and discuss something that he thought they could all talk about, brought up some articles that stated that LOTRO might be having a graphical overhaul. This actually ended in him being put into some kind of time-out mute, because "everyone knows those articles are debunked already" despite them still being hosted on reputable games news sites. Back-channel, the admin consensus was that he was in fact trying to bait Benjimir and Tessariel into somehow looking stupid in public, because [paraphrasing] 'he knows how important LOTRO is to them.'

Benjimir in fact went off publicly about how he knows the dev team and they sent him 'personalized swag' for 'being himself' and that everyone should just listen to him because he's right. Someone else made a reasonable request for sources on statements that Benjimir made about the LOTRO improvements not happening, and they immediately became the team's private #2 punching bag.

The whole time I reiterated that this was really uncomfortable and I had serious concerns about the way they were handling Jericho. And as always I received a pat on the head and was told to not worry about it, there were really good reasons for it, really. He was 'bringing down the quality of discourse' on the server somehow. Benjimir decided that the only way he would unmute Jericho is if Jericho talked directly to him, and that Jericho tried to talk to any of the more level-headed members of the team first was taken as obvious evidence that he wanted to evade rules and create problems. I asked when we planned to unmute him, and Tessariel immediately jumped to the conclusion that he had messaged me, which wasn't incorrect but the way she worded it felt highly accusatory and I was beginning to feel that I was also in trouble somehow for not agreeing with the rest of the team.

Things came to a head quickly when I woke up and looked at the mod chat and they were having an animated conversation that started with Benjimir asking if it was 'bad that he was laughing at Jericho' and most of the rest of the team talking about how he was stupid, uninformed, a troll, etc. for the sin of having some misgivings about cryptocurrency, of all the things. One of the mods self-described their behavior as bullying. I said that this was extremely unprofessional and that I thought they should keep conversation to actual moderation matters, and if they had a personal disagreement with a server member they should handle it in a personal venue, not via official server moderation channels.

I was, for the final time, patted on the head, and told that this was not something they would consider, because the moderation team 'needs to be able to vent for their mental health' (never mind that the job was not stressful except for the rest of the team committing worse behavior than the server members) and that maybe I was in fact too sensitive for the job. Benjimir heavily implied that I had become too close to Jericho and was being manipulated, managed to misgender me somehow despite my having used solely male or neutral pronouns the entire time I'd been on the server, and after relating a story in which a couple of years ago a well-liked moderator left after having the same complaints as I did (which he saw nothing at all troubling about), suggested that I should be demoted to babysitting the lore channel.

So I took some time to collect receipts, which are linked at the top of the post, and told him where to shove it.

Since that time, things have actually somehow gotten worse on Crystal RP. Benjimir posted an entire page screed vaguely talking about "rampant negativity" that stated anyone with questions should DM him.

Upon DMing him with questions, Jericho was banned, the only reason given being that he was a 'poor fit' for the server in some vague way. I was immediately banned afterwards for calling out this decision as being driven by a personal vendetta in the feedback channel and let him know afterwards via DMs in no uncertain terms that I had logged everything I needed and would be building my case (and that he is an asshole). Jericho was reinstated, though I'm not sure what the conditions of his return were as that was after my ban and I didn't ask since I didn't want to stress him out further. Benjimir also reprimanded someone for discussing asexuality, stating in a DM to them that the conversation was somehow ERP related. I called him out on this via DM as well. Tessariel was not much later caught posting my last DMs to Benjimir in an entirely unrelated server, though she didn't include the part after that where I brought up his aphobia (during Pride Month, in a server with a rainbow icon no less). Benjimir for some reason decided to suddenly start following my FC's Tumblr well after our falling-out.

And as of today (6/24), Crystal RP now has seven pages of draconian rules, because it wasn't micromanaged hard enough before or something. Notably, a lot of these rules describe behaviors that they wanted to punish Jericho for but couldn't at the time justify, or that they'd like to punish me for but have nothing they can do to me. Or they exist to justify their own behavior, as now seen in the very beginning of the channel:

"This approach also provides our volunteers with leeway to act in good faith without the burden befitting a professional occupation."

"So we afford them the means to speak openly, vent, lament, candidly and yes, sometimes crassly and raw about everything and one."

Not only did they behave unprofessionally and shit-talk before, they have now encoded in the rules that this is acceptable and even good moderator behavior, because they saw someone else do it so it's fine (a lot of this wording is very similar to what I was told when I protested it). So rather than address anything I ever said past or present, Benjimir is choosing to double down and giving himself and his team explicit permission to be shitty, right in the opening paragraphs where you'd have expected a mission statement or at least some sort of welcome.

Which is about all you need to know about that server and its owners, in my estimation. I'd considered not even posting to Tumblr about it, but given that it's only getting worse, I think it should be generally known that this is how you can expect to potentially be treated.

[quirklessthot]

request: smut with creepy stalker!momo? please 😭✋

warnings: 18+, stalking, non-con, yandere

➤ When you get the job offer to work at the Creati’s hero agency, you nearly pass out. It was a rigorous interview process and you managed to beat out hundreds of other applicants to become the personal assistant of Japan’s number eight hero

➤ I don’t see Momo as the “follow you around, break into your home” type of stalker. Why would she do all that dirty work when she has the funds and connections to keep track of your every move from the comfort of her home?

➤ She would have files with every bit of information she can find on you. Your birthday, birthplace, address, parents’ names, pets, favourite food, phobias...

➤ There’s nothing that Momo doesn’t know about you

➤ And that makes it so easy to befriend you. She already knows all of your likes and dislikes. She already knows you. It’s like you two are practically dating already! Especially since she was so generous to give you such a coveted position

➤ What, you thought you got the job because of your resume and references? Ha! You’re there because Momo wants you there

➤ You spend a lot of time together, and not just as boss and employee. You try your best to keep things professional – you don’t want to lose this job after all – but Momo is adamant on making your relationship more intimate than it’s supposed to be

➤ Months pass and Momo becomes more and more agitated. Why are you so unreceptive to her flirtations?

➤ Every compliment she gives, you shoot down with a polite rebuff. She tries to get physically close to you, but you insist on a distance of at least two feet between you. Even the gifts she tries to give you are turned down

➤ Apparently a diamond bracelet and a Chanel handbag for your two-month anniversary are ‘too extravagant’ for a lowly assistant

➤ But to Momo, nothing is too grand or expensive for her darling; she would give you the world on a silver platter if you asked for it

➤ At least you’re amicable to going out on dates with her. You call them ‘errands’ but she knows better, and soon, you will too

---

“Miss Yaoyorozu, there’s an urgent--”

“We’ve gone over this already,” Momo sighs from behind her desk. “I told you to call me Momo.”

You hesitate in the doorway of her office, clutching the files for her latest hero analysis close to your chest. “I don’t think that’s very appropriate, ma’am…”

“Oh! Or Yaomomo,” she continues, as if you hadn’t spoken. “My friends back in high school used to call me that.”

You’re powerless against the bright smile she sends your way and you give in, compromising on calling her by her first name when only no one else is around.

Momo would prefer you do it especially in front of others, but the relationship is still fairly new, and you do seem to be the shy type, so she lets it slide for now.

You continue you work, blissfully unaware of the looks of longing (tinged with possessiveness) that your boss sends you throughout the day. The following morning, as you’re heading out with Momo to get the busy day started, she instead has you drop her home to pick up something very important that she needs.

“A quick in and out, I promise!”

Which is why you’re so confused when she walks into her kitchen and turns the stove on under a stainless-steel kettle.

“Momo?”

She is elated that you call her by her first time without her having to prompt or correct you. She smiles and hums in acknowledgment as she goes around her kitchen to collect a platter of snacks and teabags big enough for a tea party.

You check your phone for the time. “I thought you said this wouldn’t take long. You have a meeting at eleven-thirty and a photoshoot with Hero Weekly magazine later this afternoon.” We don’t have time for this, you want to add but hold your tongue. Creati might be friendly to a concerning degree but she’s still your boss.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Momo laughs, pulling out two dainty teacups and setting them down on the counter where you’re seated. “We’ve got plenty of time for that.”

Right.

As Momo gets the tea together, you take the time to look around. “You have a lovely home, by the way.”

Lovely doesn’t begin to describe it. The enormous space is elegant and classy – much like its owner. Top hero rankings really do pay the bills. You imagine coming from money probably doesn’t hurt either.

“Thank you,” Momo says, handing you a delicate cup on a matching saucer. “I’m glad you like it.”

You nod in thanks and take a sip of the piping hot black liquid. It’s delicious and obviously high-quality. But you can’t help but notice the odd aftertaste - an almost bitter undercurrent that has you pausing for just a second. But not wanting to seem rude, you ignore it, silently finishing your cup while Momo slowly sips her own tea, looking on with a hidden smile.

It doesn’t take long for you to start feeling unusually drowsy. The room starts to spin as your vision blurs around the edges. You attempt to speak but your tongue feels like lead in your mouth, heavy and unwilling to from words so that anything that comes out is stilted and slurred.

“Oh dear, I think I made the dose too high,” you hear Momo mumble worriedly to herself.

You want to ask her what she means but it’s taking all of your energy just to stay awake. You allow her to sling a lifeless arm over her shoulders and drag you deeper into the house, into what you assume is her bedroom and onto what you assume is her bed.

“So beautiful…” she murmurs, using the back of her hand to gently stroke your cheek, nothing but adoration in her gaze. She leans down to place a gentle kiss to your lips and the unexpected action has you tensing up – as much as your body would allow, anyway.

Confusion mars her perfect features when you try to turn your head away and begin grumbling incoherently in protest.

“You’re not into…? But you had a girlfriend in your second year of college. You two only just recently broke up.”

Your brows furrow. How the hell does she know that…?

You attempt to voice that concern aloud but whatever was put in your tea has you fighting to stay conscious, until you finally succumb. The last thing you hear is Momo wishing you sweet dreams.

You come to sometime later, groggy and dazed, with a slight pain thumping at your temples. You groan and move to rub the sleep out of your eyes, but your hand is caught fast. Your eyes flick up from the padded cuff circling your wrist, up the gleaming metal chain to where it’s attached to the headboard; your other wrist is secured just as tightly.

Just as you start to panic, the door opens and in steps Momo. She’s out of her hero costume and in an oversized white sweater and black leggings.

“Miss Yaoyorozu!” you shout, nearly hysterical. “W-what’s going on? Why am I tied up?!”

Momo tuts, a small frown tugging at her lips. “Momo, dear,” she corrects gently.

Your boss’ behaviour has you baffled and a little apprehensive. Why is she acting as though having her personal assistant tied up in her bed is completely normal? Momo moves over to you, fluffing up the pillow your head is resting on, and asks if you’re comfortable.

You begin to tremble. “Miss Yao--”

A hand is on your jaw, squeezing tight enough to effectively shut you up.

“If you don’t stop calling me that I’m going to have to punish you.”

Momo leans over you, uncomfortably close as she keeps your face in a vice-like grip, perfectly manicured nails digging into the skin of your cheeks. Her tone is soft but strict, like a parent berating their child.

“Do you understand?”

Timidly, you nod your head.

Satisfied with your compliance, Momo lets go of your jaw to softly rub a thumb along the irritated skin. “I’m sorry, love. I hate being so rough with you. But we’ve got to nip those nasty little habits in the bud.”

“M-Momo?” You hate how shaky and small your voice is, but you continue when she hums in question. “What’s going on? I don’t… I don’t understand.”

She tilts her head to the side. “What’s not to understand?”

She can’t be serious can she? You swallow past the rising ball of panic in your throat. “I want to go home.”

“You’re already home, love,” she says with a chuckle. As if it’s the most well-known thing in the world and you’re being silly.

You immediately switch to another tactic. You’re going to have to play along if you want any chance of escape. “O-of course. Um, could you untie me? It’s a little uncomfortable,” you say, glancing up to where you’re tied to the headboard. You’ve never had any kind of combat training but maybe you can find a way to trick or overpower her once your hands are free. Going up against a Pro Hero is the last thing you want to do but you have to at least try.

Momo’s answer is swift and simple. “No.”

“No?” you repeat dumbly.

“You must really think I’m stupid,” she says with a laugh, high and bell-like.  “Oh, my silly little baby, do you really think you have a chance of fighting me? You’re not going anywhere, and you can’t escape. So you’d might as well get that thought out of your empty little head.”

The patronizing quality of her jab leaves you feeling utterly defeated and you sag in your bonds.

“Don’t pout, beautiful. I’ll make it all better,” she says, hand pressing into your stomach as she moves onto the bed to hover above you. She leans down and plants an unsuspecting kiss onto your lips. You try desperately to pull away, but your efforts go completely ignored as she deepens the kiss, running her tongue along the seam of your tightly closed lips.

The hand on your stomach slips upwards to cover one of your breasts. She gives it a squeeze, trapping your nipple between her fingers. The action has you squirming, and you let out an involuntary moan.

“Good girl,” Momo purrs against your lips.

“Get off,” you respond in protest. “Get off of me!”

“Behave,” she scolds, sliding her hands down your body until she has a strong grip on your hips. She plays with the hem of the large cotton t-shirt you’re wearing – definitely not the suit you put on this morning; she must have changed you while you were knocked out. With dread, you also realize that you’re not wearing any underwear.

Momo lifts up the only piece of clothing you have on and tucks in under your chin, allowing her eyes to freely roam the expanse of your naked body. “You’re perfect,” she breathes out, reverent. “I’ve wanted you the moment I laid eyes on you, you know.”

A finger glides up the curve of your breast to circle your nipple, stroking over the quickly hardening peak. Your teeth clamp down on your bottom lip, desperate to not let any noises slip out. But you can’t hold back the squeak when you feel her warm, wet mouth descend on your breast. You squirm at the way her tongue flicks over your nipple and her teeth

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, she slips a hand down to rest against your mound. Those graceful fingers slide down to pet against the lips of your cunt, slipping down even further to play with your hole.

She toys with you for a while, mouth firmly attached to your breast, sucking on your nipple until you can’t hold back your cries any longer. She slips a finger inside of you, the movement made easy by the copious amounts of slick. Another soon joins, slowly fucking you in a way that has your toes curling. The wet squelching sound is piercing in the otherwise quiet room; you ball your fists and shut your eyes tight, embarrassed by the way your traitorous body is responding.

You almost scream when Momo’s thumb begins to rub firms circles into your sensitive clit and within seconds you’re cumming all over her fingers. She doesn’t stop until you’re close to another orgasm.

“My sweet girl, you did so well,” she praises, slipping her fingers out of you.

You just lay there, panting and trying to come to terms with the fact that your boss just gave you one of the best orgasms of your life.

She holds up her fingers, the slim digits are covered in your slick. The embarrassment from witnessing how much you enjoyed that makes you want to crawl into a hole. But Momo shows no such reservations and pops them into her mouth, eyes closing and moaning as though she’s tasting the sweetest honey.

“If I had known you tasted this good I would have done this a long time ago,” Momo chuckles. “Good enough to eat.”

The hungry glint in her eyes has you quickly clamping your thighs together but it’s embarrassingly easy for her to pry them apart, holding you open and spread out in the most intimate of ways.

Despite the horror you’re feeling, you can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of Momo getting comfortable on her stomach and leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your mound. She starts with kitten licks against your folds that that have unwanted excitement pooling in your belly, before licking a broad stripe from your wet, twitching hole to your clit. Her lips close over the little nub, taking it into her to suckle and lave with attention. You moan and buck your hips up into her mouth, desperate to feel more of her tongue.

She lets go of your clit to close her mouth of you entirely, tongue wriggling inside, your walls immediately clench down on the slippery intrusion. You keen, back arching as your pussy releases a wave of slick, which Momo is more than happy to lap up, moaning hungrily. With the amount of noise she’s making, you’d think she’s the one being pleasured. She hums and sighs as she works you over, obvious in her enjoyment of eating you out.

Your body tenses and you throw your head back with a scream. You can’t stop yourself from cumming a second time – this one just as intense as the last.

Before you know it, Momo is undressed and shuffling until she’s kneeling directly over you. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what she wants to do.

“It’s only fair, right?” she asks, thighs straddling your head. She doesn’t give you time to respond before she’s lowering herself down onto your face. “Don’t disappoint me, ok?”

Her tone is sweet enough, but the threat is clear.

Without much of a choice, you stick your tongue out and begin lapping at her pussy. She’s already soaking wet, worked up from giving you pleasure. You use every trick you knew to get her off as quickly as possible. Luckily, it doesn’t take long.

“Oh, god! Yes!” she’s soon crying out, writhing on your tongue. “Please, baby. Please make me cum! Make me -ah!”

Momo grinds down harder and her pace picks up until she suddenly stops, hips giving short jerks as she whines and lets out a satisfied little sigh. She pulls away, shuffling down your body until she can lie down beside you to hug you close.

“You did wonderful, darling,” she praises, still slightly out of breath.

You say nothing but Momo is having none of that. She taps a finger against your slick-covered lips. “What do we say when someone compliments you, sweetie?”

You try to blink back tears. You’re really not getting out of here are you?

“Thank you,” you reply obediently.

[cocovikings23]

New Start - Chapter 1 (Modern Ivar x Reader)

I start writing a little fiction with a Modern Ivar. Thanks to @youbloodymadgenius for supporting me. Sorry for my bad English, it is not my mother tongue.

Chapter one : Engaged

Summary: The reader goes for a job interview at the Ragnar & Sons Corporation and finds herself face to face with Ivar during the interview. He is a very strict sector manager but facing his potential new recruit, he will behave differently than normal.

As usual, you arrived early for this umpteenth job interview. So there you were, in front of this big building, perhaps the biggest you've ever seen, remembering your previous failures of the last few weeks. It's true that you had had a series of interviews, none of which had resulted in a contract. Since you had left your home country and set off for a completely unknown city, you had a difficult start, you worked in a café as a waitress for the first few months and after you had had enough, you decided to go back to your original line of work: negotiation. There are a lot of companies recruiting at the moment, you thought it was now or never to try your luck. After a dozen or so interviews, some of which you'd like to erase from your memory, like the last one, where the guy openly made you understand that in order to get a job here you have to go through the "I'm lying down to succeed" box; of course you took your legs and left.

You enter this gigantic building through large transparent sliding doors, to reach the main lobby of the Ragnar & Sons Corporation, THE biggest trading company in the area and the name Lothbrok is on everyone's lips in the small town where you landed a few months ago. You easily reach the reception counter where you see the four switchboard operators dressed the same way: a black skirt suit with a white shirt ultra well ironed underneath it. Their hands are manicured, their contouring was so perfect that Kim Kardashian can go get dressed, their eyeliner line in the corner of the eye is also measured to the millimeter. You look at yourself in the long mirror behind the manicured quadruplets, as you so aptly called them, you look dull compared to them : Your hands are far from perfect since you cut your nails that very morning so that you wouldn't have a single inch that could get caught in your stockings, your make-up is very light and your hair, oh gods, you struggled for thirty minutes in the bathroom with your mane and finally opted for a professional style bun despite the fact that some of your hair is receding.

You get out of your mind when the Barbie asks, "Welcome to the Ragnar & Sons Corporation, can I help you? »

"Uh ... yes ... hello, I'm Miss Y/LN Y/N, I have a professional interview ... ",

She types on her computer for a few seconds, takes her phone, dials a number and says " She has arrived ", then hangs up to finally announce " Mr Lothbrok, is waiting for you, he is on the 15th floor, office number 01 ". You thank her with a touch of apprehension, the knot in your belly intensifies when the elevator doors open, you go inside, press the number 15 and you let yourself be carried further up in this big tower. You barely have time to do a mini self-meditation to calm yourself down that you have already arrived at your destination. You get out of the elevator, walk straight ahead, along a large silent corridor and finally arrive in front of a double door on which is written in the top right corner "01". There you are, you know nothing about your recruiter except that it is either Ragnar himself, but this is unlikely because he is very often travelling abroad, or one of his sons.

Like any good candidate you took a keen interest in the company in order to avoid trick questions during the interview, so you know that the boss is Ragnar Lothbrok and that he runs the company with his five sons: Björn, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd and Ivar. You were even more stressed for this interview when you put a face to these names, there are some pictures of the sons on the site: all of them were very attractive. But your attention was caught by Ivar, the youngest of the family, in one photo you noticed that he wears a brace on his right leg and that he holds himself up with a crutch, but what intimidated you the most was the look in his eyes: his eyes are the bluest in the family, an intense, authoritative look... You begged the gods that it be one of his brothers who welcomes you the next day.

You come back to you when you hear the voice of a man behind you asking if everything is all right. You turn back to him, your eyes immediately widen because you know him or at least you know who he is: a tall man, hair in a man's bun, green eyes, he was one of the Lothbrok sons, he is Hvitserk. Having no answer from you, he repeats his question: "Is everything all right, Miss? Has my brother made you miserable or not yet? "he says with an amused look.

You sputter : " yes... well no... well I mean, yes I'm fine and no I haven't seen anyone yet " you come to your senses " I'm Y/N, I'm here for the new job, I have to meet Mr Lothbrok ". Hvitserk continues with the same amused look, "So you have to talk to my little brother Ivar, he's the one who manages recruitment.   After his words, it's as if the ground is crumbling under your feet, your greatest fear, since the call to confirm your appointment, will materialize. You haven't had time to understand what's going on, because Hvitserk has already gone into his brother's office to announce your arrival: "I found your new victim at your door little brother, try to be nice this time, don't let her go away crying" he says, laughing. Hvitserk leaves the office and winked at you, he closes the doors, you wonder why the gods punished you in this way, you want to have this interview with Hvitserk after all.

You turn to Ivar, who is sitting behind a large wenge-colored desk, which is arranged in a very orderly, even structured way, each pen is the same size, all stored in a brown leather jar. Ivar, who taps on her Mac, frowns before giving up "You're early, we had an appointment at 9:30, it's 9:15". You swallow and he goes on " But since you're here we'll get rid of that now ". You bend your head and tell yourself that it was a waste of time, another failure, you even think of resuming your job as a waitress to provide for your needs while you find a job worthy of your skills when Ivar resumed the speech "You can settle down" by pointing to the chair in front of you. He didn't even bother to look at you, he's too busy with his screen. You settle down on the chair, which itself is made of brown leather and is quite comfortable, put your little purse on the floor next to you, put your sweaty hands on your knees and clear your throat. You have time to watch the executioner who would torture you for twenty minutes, asking you questions, each one more twisted than the other, for a job that you wouldn't get. He is dressed in a dark blue suit, very well adjusted to his size, gods that he is muscular, you can see his biceps through the jacket that fits perfectly. Under this suit, he wears a bright white shirt, slightly open with three buttons, you do not see his legs, they are hidden by the desk but you notice his crutch on the armrest of his beautiful luxury armchair. Faced with so much charm and charisma, you feel a knot in your chest.

Ivar is typing on his keyboard one last time before closing his computer, he looks up to start the interview when he stops in his tracks as he looks at you. "Then Miss," his eyes become even bluer, he freezes like a statue for a few moments before resuming, "Miss Y/L/N, we are going to start the interview," he has become different than when you entered his office, a kind of vulnerability has taken hold of him. Which doesn't help you any more because you are at the height of your stress. "Tell me a little bit about yourself, why do you want to work here?"

" I've only been in Kattegat for a few months, I worked as a waitress in a café in the center to acclimatize myself and I wanted to go back to my original skills in negotiation, business, " you answered.

"Hmm I see.." Ivar runs her fingers over her lower lip while continuing to stare at you like a hunter watching his prey, you feel your cheeks warm, the atmosphere in the room gets heavier and heavier... A long silence lingers when Ivar's cell phone begins to ring. He takes his eyes off you to look at the caller, makes a gesture with his finger to cut the call. He looks up at you again, to finally resume the conversation. "Well, Y/N, you know that we are the largest trading company in Kattegat and I, unlike my brothers, hate failure. I want to be certain of your skills and now you're not proving anything to me," you swallowed loudly, not knowing what to say.

Ivar continues, "For a person who wants to demonstrate her qualities as a trader you are very quiet..." he says with a sly smile. But what an asshole !, you think.

In order to put an end to this humiliation as soon as possible you start to take your bag on the ground to leave, you dare to speak up. "No disrespect Mr. Lothbrok, I think your behavior is totally inappropriate, I think it is more reasonable to end this interview now, thank you...".

"Please sit down Miss Y/L/N", Ivar cuts you off, you are surprised that your only decision is to obey this tyrant. He remains silent, spinning slightly from left to right in his authoritarian boss chair, smiles "Finally, the little waitress has character...". Ivar gets up, uses his crutch to walk up to you, sits on the edge of his desk right in front of you, his crotch in front of your eyes. Despite the fact that he's a complete asshole, he's still a very handsome and attractive man, the fact that he's getting closer to you doesn't leave you indifferent. He stooped down to your level to look you straight in the eyes, your faces are only a few centimeters away from each other. You can feel his warm breath caressing your cheeks, your mouth opens slightly by itself. You rub your legs together to try to hide the fact that some kind of excitement is building up in your lower abdomen. He bends his eyes to finally break this moment that has become erotically embarrassing. "As I was saying, failure is not a possibility, I may regret it but I will give you your chance, don't disappoint me otherwise... " he leans towards your ear to continue with a broad smile " I should punish you ". He gets up, taking up a neutral expression to get back behind his desk taking up his Mac to finish the emails that were in progress before your arrival.

"You're hired Y/N", he drops this information by waving you off his desk "You'll see Clara at the reception desk for your contract".

You get up, gently says to him " Thank you Iv... Mr Lothbrok, goodbye ". You don't see him because you already have your back to him but at the announcement of his first name, he has sparks in his eyes. You close the door behind you, you think that you had spent an eternity in this office when you were there for only 15 minutes.

Hvitserk walks past his brother's office and asks you about your interview: "I see you are still alive, my brother spared you! "he says jokingly, "and then what was the sentence he gave you?" he asks,  taking it a little more seriously,

"Ivar hired me" you say shyly, Hvitserk equal to himself took you in his arms "Congratulations, you are officially our colleague now, so no formalities between us, OK? "He puts an arm around your shoulder to guide you through the corridor. "Come with me, I'll give you a guided tour of the premises and introduce you to my other brothers". As you both walk away from Ivar's office, you look behind you, your body wants to come back to him while your mind is slowly getting used to the idea of this new life that is being offered to you.

@youbloodymadgenius @therealcalicali

[free--therapy]

Overcoming Guilt & Shame

It's important to note that by overcoming shame and guilt, it doesn't mean that we are letting ourselves get away with something that we truly know and believe to be wrong. The point of overcoming it is making sure that we take accountability, responsibility, and coming to terms with what made us feel this way in the first place. There are 5 steps we can take to help us overcome our shame and guilt: assessing the severity of our actions, weighing our personal accountability, atoning for any harm we caused, breaking the silence of our incurred shame, and finally self-forgiveness.

It's suggested that only 1 or 2 of these steps are necessary in helping us overcome guilt, however when it comes to dealing with shame, it's best to try all 5 steps:

1. Assessing the Severity of Our Actions

It doesn't matter how big or small the action is that we feel bad about, we can still feel guilty regardless. It could be as simple as ignoring your mother's phone call to answer your best friend's call, or calling in sick to work when you don't feel like going in, and so on. Our evaluation of how serious our actions or thoughts are depends on our values and rules that we create for ourselves. It'll always be subjective and what we may feel guilty about, another person won't feel guilty in the same situation. If we often feeling guilty or ashamed, it means that we are either living our lives in a way that ends up defying and violating our own values and principles, or we may be judging ourselves too seriously on things that aren't as serious as we may believe. How can we assess how serious our actions are? Consider the following:

Do other people think this is as serious as I do? How come?

Would there be anyone else consider it less serious? How come?

How serious would I consider this to be if my friend did it instead of myself?

How important will this situation seem in a month from now? 1 year? 5 years?

Would I consider it to be serious if someone did the same thing to me?

Was I aware of the consequences or meaning of my actions/thoughts? Based on that, are my current judgments applicable?

Did I cause any damage? If I did, can I still make things right? If yes, how long would it take to do so?

Is there a more worse action I could have taken and didn't?

2. Weighing Personal Accountability

Weighing how much of what we have done and our perception of the wrongdoing is up to us now to take care of. To do this, we must evaluate the situation we're feeling guilt or shame about by starting to consider everyone and every aspect involved in the situation, including ourselves. "Aspects" or factors can be something like alcohol being involved, owing someone money/debt, the time of day (late at night where people are tired), or knowing that the certain people involved in our situation may have experienced abuse in their life as well. Anything that may have relative responsibility to the situation. Create a list, whether on paper or in the mind, and assign values to how big of a responsibility they may have in the particular situation.

Example: Having an angry outburst at a spouse for complaining about not paying bills on time. People responsible for my angry outburst: - myself: 60% - looming debts: 20% - spouse: 12% - 11pm at night: 8%

Compiling a list like this won't entirely help to eliminate guilt however, because there are situations where we should still feel guilty for doing something wrong. That guilt will help us to make amendments and atone for what we have done, but we can manage it in a way where it becomes something productive as opposed to it being another thing we turn on ourselves as a way to self-sabotage (shame). Making these sorts of lists will help us to realize that not everything is entirely our fault in situations where we feel guilty, which can help us feel a lot less guilty at the end of the day.

3. Atoning for Harm We Caused

When we're feeling guilt as a result for causing harm to others, it's important that we make sure we make amends for what we have done. Doing so can have a very important impact in healing ourselves and the relationship(s) we may have ruined. Atoning for our actions involves recognizing what we did and having the courage to face the person we hurt, asking for their forgiveness, and figuring out what we can do to make things right.

Here are some questions we can consider when trying to figure out how we can atone for what we have done:

Who did I hurt?

What did I do that was hurtful?

This is why it was wrong (the values I violated):

This is what I can do to make amends:

This is what I can tell the person I hurt: I recognize that when I (behavior/action) ____________, this hurt you. It was wrong because ___________. I'm sorry that I did that to you. What I want to do is _______ to show you how truly sorry I am. I hope that you can forgive me with time.

We have to remember that even though we may ask for forgiveness, the other person is under no obligation to grant us it and we have to be okay with that. The whole point of asking for forgiveness and trying to make amends is to help us feel better about the guilt that we have, especially when we're truly sorry.

4. Breaking the Silence of Incurred Shame/Guilt

Because shame has to do with having to keep things secretive, it helps for us to talk to someone we trust about what happened. We usually keep these things secret because we believe that if anyone ever finds out, we'll be criticized, condemned, or rejected for it. By telling someone, we may be surprised to find acceptance and this response ends up forcing ourselves to reassess the meaning of the secret that we hold onto. But how do we find someone we can trust when we have trust issues? We have to find someone that we believe we can share our secret in confidence, whether it be a friend, a coworker, or a mental health professional. Holding onto the shame will only increase the impact it has on us. More likely than not, a lot of people are more understanding that we have been led to believe. A lot of people have likely had similar experiences as us and know how to handle it, or they know people who may have been through things and have their an understanding of what we're going through. We all assume we're alone in our suffering and shame, but more likely than not, we are more alike in experiences, and even if we don't have the same experiences as other, we are eager to listen and learn, and offer advice. Not everyone is going to react the way we think.

5. Self-Forgiveness

Part of being a human is making mistakes. Perfection is merely just a concept that will never be attainable, but so many stress over to achieve. All of us at some point in our lives have done things that we told ourselves that we would never do, or violate the morals and values we hold. This is something that we all do and sometimes we may consider ourselves as "bad" people because of them, but violations don't necessarily mean that. Sometimes our actions may have been linked to a certain situation or time in our lives and can change as we progress in life.

When we come to realize this and how we are all susceptible to being imperfect, it's a lot easier to forgive others, including ourselves. Self-forgiveness will help us to alleviate a lot of our shame and guilt. It can lead us to a change in our perspective and interpretation of the mistake we made. We learn to become a lot more compassionate kind towards ourselves as we begin to understand that we may have made said mistakes during a time where we didn't care how we behaved, as opposed to believing we are "bad" people.

Self-forgiveness, just like forgiving someone else, doesn't mean that we are approving, forgetting, or even denying the pain that we have caused to other people. It involves recognizing that we are imperfect, we make mistakes, and that we can accept our shortcomings and the consequences of our actions. We have to be okay with acknowledging and recognizing that we have both good and negative qualities, and that we also have strengths and weaknesses.

Here's how we can begin to work towards self-forgiveness:

What do I need to forgive myself for?

What impact did my actions have on myself on others?

How will it continue to affect me and others?

How do I imagine my life will be better if I can forgive myself?

Forgiveness begins with understanding. What life experiences have I had that might have contributed to what I did?

What would I think about someone else who did the same thing?

What are some positive aspects about myself that I usually ignore when I'm feeling guilty or ashamed?

In a compassionate and kind voice, how can I forgive myself for what I've done?

What are some qualities that I have that can help me to move forward?

Adapted from Mind Over Mood by Dennis Greenberger, Ph.d & Christine Padesky, Ph.d.

[whentherewerebicycles]

some thoughts that might seem unrelated but aren’t, i promise:

— in that atomic habits book I read a couple weeks back the author talks about using a specific, action-oriented question repeated throughout the day to help you build or break habits (like “what would a physically fit person do?” or “what would a sober person do?”).   

— the aging books i was reading last month noted that people who score high in conscientiousness (on the Big Five personality traits) tend to age most successfully ie enjoy the longest stretch of active years. to quote this article, conscientiousness is “a fundamental personality trait—one of the Big Five—that reflects the tendency to be responsible, organized, hard-working, goal-directed, and to adhere to norms and rules...Conscientiousness comprises self-control, industriousness, responsibility, and reliability. A conscientious person is good at self-regulation and impulse control. This trait influences whether you will set and keep long-range goals, deliberate over choices, behave cautiously or impulsively, and take obligations to others seriously.” I tend to score very high in openness but very, very low in conscientiousness. more on this in a bit...  

— my sister and i were talking recently about different kinds of intelligence, and also about core values. one of hers is efficiency, a word that i have all kinds of negative associations with lol but that she explained in ways i found really intriguing. for her efficiency isn’t about, like, Maximizing Productivity for Capitalism but is about methodically searching for the most effective, least confusing or redundant, most easily-communicable-to-others way to solve complex problems. when she encounters a system that has all kinds of weird bottlenecks or inefficient, time-consuming ways of completing a task (esp if the rationale for those methods is just “well.. that’s how we’ve always done it”), she starts immediately examining the larger structures and workflows around those bottlenecks to see if the established ways of doing things can be rerouted or simplified, and then she constructs new protocols or tools for people to use instead of the old inefficient way of working. efficiency will never be a core value of mine, in part because i think my humanities-oriented brain accords more value than her STEM/medicine-oriented brain does to wandering, daydreaming, slowed-down thinking, doubling-back or retracing one’s steps, and other “inefficient” modes of thinking that slow down the process but can lead you in unexpected directions or spark unanticipated epiphanies that illuminate the larger structures differently. i think we both share a keen interest in systems-level thinking and in examining whether established ways of doing things are the most effective ways of doing things, but we prioritize different modes of thinking and problem-solving in figuring out how to alter or redesign those larger systems (which is probably a result of temperament differences + our field-specific training).

THAT SAID, i have been thinking a lot about how one area of my own intelligence i would like to sharpen/hone in both my professional and personal life is like... a mode of intelligence that is linked to rigor, a more methodical approach to problem-solving, and the ability to construct & more methodically test detailed mental schemas. not quite sure how to articulate that but i feel like my thinking has gotten a little fuzzier than i want it to. and I think maybe this sensed fuzziness in thinking is linked to some of my ongoing feelings of restless discontent re: work. I also just in general want to be more conscientious in how I approach and solve problems, or in how I tackle big and small projects.

— this is more tangentially connected but: i feel like one thing i’ve noticed this year is that a lot of the people i admire professionally are really good at seeking out & taking on lots and lots of additional challenges or commitments, and they can do this in part because they tend to be very conscientious people, ie people who have big-picture vision but are also very detail-oriented and good at managing their time effectively & doing things efficiently so they can take on multiple projects without feeling overwhelmed. i feel like my own low-conscientiousness means that i can’t take full advantage of my high-openness—often i want to take on new projects or challenges but i worry that i’ll overextend myself or that the project will become more time-consuming than i anticipate. i think is linked to a different sort of fuzziness, ie a lack of clarity about how long things take or how much time i have — all combined with a deeply ingrained sense of myself as someone with executive dysfunction issues (poor time management, poor planning skills, poor organizational abilities, etc.). i think of myself as a very inefficient and extraordinarily disorganized person, whether this is 100% accurate or not, and that can sometimes lead to me taking myself out of the running for opportunities or limiting the number of projects i take on out of a fear that i won’t be disciplined enough to see them through.

— another thing my sister and i were talking about recently is how within large families, siblings tend to get assigned a “role” or a personality within the family dynamic very early on, and then they get sort of locked into that over time. everyone in the family expects them to always behave in that way, and there’s often a lot of unconscious resistance to letting your family members change or grow or develop in ways that contradict the clearly defined family role that’s been assigned to them, or the family “story” that everyone else in the family tells about them. you can get locked into both positive and negative roles—or like, often the positive role has a negative flipside. we were talking about how within our family, i’ve been “assigned” to be the “deep thinker” ie the introspective one who spends my life writing and thinking and daydreaming, whereas my sister has been assigned the role of being most like my father, ie very methodical, analytical, unemotional, and action-oriented (and therefore not introspective or inward-looking). and we were talking about how both of these have a negative flipside: my sister feels like she doesn’t get to be a “deep thinker,” or an introspective, emotionally intelligent person; whereas i feel like in my family’s story for me i am forever in “lalaland,” as my mom always says—head in the clouds, an ineffectual dreamer, the absentminded professor who has lots of big thoughts and feelings but is incapable of bringing any of my fantastical ideas to fruition because i have very little practical knowledge or stick-to-itiveness.  

— as i’ve said many times before, i feel like i can’t solve the big-picture issues with my job right now, since so many of them are linked to shitty pandemic realities. but i was thinking that maybe one way to begin laying the groundwork for this final year in my job might be to work on strengthening my conscientiousness at the micro-level, ie in small everyday habits and interactions. my hope is that maybe by practicing conscientiousness in lots of small, low-stakes situations, i can start strengthening those muscles and building trust in myself as “the kind of person who does ____” (which i feel like is necessary for me to begin challenging the family story i’ve internalized what i am like). i mean, there is a lot of truth to that family story! but i bet that those aspects of my personality are nowhere near as inflexible or as like, divinely preordained as i have often assumed they are. like, i bet that through practice & through building better habits i can actually become significantly more conscientiousness (reliable, responsible, hardworking, efficient, good at follow-through, self-disciplined, etc) than i am now. and while efficiency may never be as central a value for me as it is for my sister, i think there is probably a way for me to see efficiency and conscientiousness as linked to my own core values, if only because those qualities or traits will allow me to better enact/embody my core values. so i think i can see it not as working against the grain of my personality, but as working to build out less-developed parts of my personality to strengthen the parts of my character that i value most.

— anyway this is all to say that for the last week i’ve been asking myself aloud “what would a conscientious person do?” multiple times a day, really any time i find myself at a small crossroads where i have to make a small decision. do i pick up that piece of cardboard and put it in the recycling bin now or leave it till later? (what would a conscientious person do?) do i return that call from the plumber now or put it off until later? (what would a conscientious person do?) do i take two minutes to pay that $4 toll bill now or put it on the giant stack of “tasks i will definitely deal with when i’m in the mood to deal with them,” where it will inevitably become a $25 and then $50 bill because i forgot about it and now have to pay late fees? (what would a conscientious person do?) do i comment on that student’s draft now when i’d rather be on the couch scrolling through social media? (i could probably do it tomorrow, when i have another block of free time, but what would a conscientious person do?) i have no idea if it will work in the long term!! but it’s been an intriguing experiment so far, mostly because i think it is teaching me that many of the tasks i build up in my head as incredibly time-consuming are actually quite quick, and once you finish them you also free up all the mental energy you were putting into procrastinating on them, and are better able to move onto the next thing. i also feel like it is teaching me that uhh maybe a conscientious person is not like, a completely different species of human being, but just a person who has different habits or patterns of response to daily choices than i do. that feels important too: if we are what we repeatedly or habitually do, then changing what i habitually do can probably change the kind of person i am!   i’m finding that there’s something very useful about the simplicity of the question, too. deliberately posing the question to myself interrupts my habitual, unconscious response (which is always some version of “i don’t have the energy to deal with that / don’t want to expend that energy right now -- i’ll put it off till later”) -- it requires me to stop and focus my attention on the present situation instead of sliding right past it without thinking about it. and there’s also something quite satisfying about framing it as a choice or a decision: i get to choose what to do, ie i get to exercise agency, and exercising agency makes your brain feel happy (we like to feel in control! we like making choices!). so throughout the day i get to experience lots of little bursts of whatever gets released in the brain when you make a decision and immediately follow through with it, and i think/hope that this kind of positive reinforcement is helping to strengthen those circuits and lay down the groundwork for new patterns of habitual response. 

those are some thoughts this morning!! now i am going to allow myself a few minutes of sloth lol and then i’ll get up and exercise.

[vtforpedro]

LONG POST, medical update. ptsd, suicide TW: I’m really tired. I feel like I’ve been saying that for a year but I am exhausted. mind, body and soul exhausted my head got better after I lost the water weight my chemo pill was packing on (I was 15lbs lighter than the three weeks previously. so it was pretty bad lol) but now it’s getting bad again. it never gets to the point of relief, but it gets manageable and now it’s becoming unmanageable again. it’s not water weight but it might be cause I’ve put on a couple pounds over the holidays (just barely a couple pounds, I’m eating much lighter in general) anyway I don’t see the point of being scared to name what it is my neurosurgeon and I believe this is anymore. my psychiatrist thinks it makes sense, my pcp, even the ER doctor I saw on dec. 2nd lol but I am 99.9% sure this is what I have and it does makes sense but every fucking time I think about it for a while it makes me so angry. so so so angry y’all. I wish I could sit every single medical professional I interacted with over the last year or so who didn’t believe me and tell them it’s all been real, they failed me to such a degree I have ptsd and anger problems that I’m going to need therapy for, and tell them to learn how to be better providers. blegh so I saw my neurosurgeon (one of the best in the country) for the first time in april. his thoughts? anxiety with muscle tension in my back and neck that led to tension in my head. as in the muscles around my bones, not inside of my skull. didn’t listen to me or believe me, thought all my crazy symptoms were just anxiety and possibly the chiari malformation but there’s no treatment for that beyond surgery and mine is so mild no one wants to go that route (me most of all lmao) I put off seeing him again because I saw different neurologists and my PCP over the months who basically all said the same thing. like my PCP believed me and gave me referrals to the neuros, but one told me to ‘stop worrying about this and just enjoy life’ and the other sat with me for an hour, the first half of which she was all on board the ‘anxiety is fucking with you, none of this is real’ train until I had to tell her to LISTEN TO MY SYMPTOMS firmly enough that she did. she went the opposite way then and said yeah ok something ‘mechanical’ is happening, you need to go back to a neurosurgeon. turned out she loves the neurosurgeon I saw in april (worship the ground he walks on, were her words) but told me maybe I still needed a second opinion. she did also mention that I’ve been living with this for so long that I’m ‘married to it now’ which still implies I’m making it worse than it actually is but :) whatever, she couldn’t think of what it could be decided to just go back to that neurosurgeon and tell him the physical therapy he prescribed in april I had to stop because it made things worse. his PA tried to prescribe me more PT on the phone before I firmly told her I needed to SPEAK with him face to face because my quality of life is gone, because I get close to killing myself weekly because of how bad this is and nothing has improved since april. only gotten worse. so I had my appt with him in late October I think? I explained all of my symptoms (again) and told him how nothing has changed, things have gotten worse, when I do x y z I have an episode, etc etc. he said he still doesn’t think it’s the chiari but he said it *might* be IIH idiopathic intracranial hypertension first time I’ve ever heard of it and even though it was over 11 months into this, it might just save my life now that I have idiopathic = we don’t fucking know why this happens, intracranial = HAPPENING IN MY SKULL AND BRAIN, hypertension = technically high blood pressure, but for here just high pressure cause my BP is good it is rare, it is unknown why people get it and why others don’t, it is most common in women of child bearing age who are obese. the thought is that the weight on the body causes the brain to very slightly inflate, decreasing spinal fluid flow and increasing pressure in the brain, sometimes CAUSING a chiari malformation to appear, which can cause other symptoms on top of IIH it used to be called pseudotumor cerebri because IIH makes the brain behave like it has a tumor while no tumor is actually present (which means normal MRI/CT scans and the main reason everyone told me I was faking it) I gained 80lbs in less than two years due to severe depression and ptsd. I’ve been at the same weight for almost two years now and was at that weight in Feb 2019 before things started happening in Dec 2019. sometimes it does just come on one day. it can be chronic, it can randomly go into remission and come back, and they have no idea why it even happens. it’s rare enough that no neurologist I saw could even think of it. rare enough that one of the best neurosurgeons in the country didn’t think of it until he decided he believed me lol he leans even more heavily into this because I gained weight so quickly (one of the hallmarks of getting IIH) and I had not a single symptom like it before the weight gain I don’t trust anything or anyone right now and I am extremely pessimistic and have no hope. but the one thing that’s given me a little hope, that’s made me believe this is what I have, is the fucking wikipedia page on IIH. it lists one specific symptom that I’ve seen nowhere else (and is EXTREMELY specific lmao) that I have and that everyone thought I was crazy explaining. beyond destroying your quality of life, the one thing IIH can do is cause permanent blindness. I’ve had a fuck ton of problems with my vision since this all started happening. one of the worst is that if I’m in the middle of an episode and I look up or to the left, it makes it h u r t and makes the episode worse. which is on the wikipedia page! which explains why I couldn’t fucking do EMDR therapy which involves rapid eye movement from side to side :) :) :) even my therapist was thinking this was all in my head and I was just letting my anxiety tell me EMDR would send my head into an episode instead of it actually happening lmaaaao god I am so angry y’all my mom and my uncle The Doctor wanted to commit me in March/April. I had an entire ER nurses station mock me for ten minutes for coming in repeatedly and having bizarre symptoms that, because they were unexplained, they thought I was faking. they belittled me when talking to me. one put the tv remote (no tv in the room) instead of the call button in my hand when I was too out of it to notice. the ER doctor that day told me I was making up a story, none of this was real, and to continue seeing my psychiatrist. I went home that day, told my mom I was fine for her to go back to work (she was angry with me and wanted me to go to a psychiatric hospital), took a shower and planned on swallowing a bottle of pills. I was in agony, utter agony, every single day multiple times a day I thought I was going to die, and it was being made clear to me that no one, not even my mom, believed me. I told my best friend and she talked me out of it, but I came very close and I will forever be heartbroken and angry beyond belief about this (my mom came around not long after this after seeing that this wasn’t going away and has thoroughly apologized for wanting to commit me. she has been helping me every single day since this started even tho she thought it was anxiety. I’m angry but I don’t hold it against her, not after the incredible sacrifices she’s made for me for a year) so yeah. every bizarre symptom, every agonizing thing I go through, the weird discomfort, pain and burning, vision problems, etc etc, all explained by IIH. the very specific ‘looking in a certain direction makes it worse’ has been there since day one. it’s because pressure has increased on the nerve behind my eyes so looking in a certain way aggravates the affected nerve further gaining all that water weight and having my head get so so so severe, enough to send me to the ER again, made me also think this was a real possibility and the ER doc agreed that the fluid retention was making pressure in my brain even more severe and it did ease quite a lot once that was all gone, another reason I believe this is IIH if you read up on IIH or read stories by people with it, it is life altering, debilitating, and agonizing to live with. most people will also have the same story of doctors not believing them and saying it was anxiety before getting this diagnosis the good thing? there’s a cure and while some people may need additional help later on, it works for most people. and it is, very simply, losing weight. 10-20% of body weight (some places say relief can start at just 3%) seems to completely cure it for most people because the brain is no longer inflated and because of that, any chiari malformation (cerebral tonsils sitting in the spinal cord opening) will actually go away, because it makes room in the skull for the tonsils to go back to their normal place I have some trouble knowing that I am partially at fault for gaining weight like I did, but my mom keeps telling me it’s so rare and how could I have possibly known and it was after severe trauma so. trying to deal with that too lol but yeah! weight loss journey. my chemo pill, if you read my last update, completely fucked me up for a while (including the fuckin weight gain despite a low calorie, low fat diet since like nov 1st) so it’s made it hard to lose weight. but now that I’m off of that pill, I’m down 7lbs and I will continue to lose. I have never been more motivated in my life to lose weight lmao and I’ve successfully done it before! I can’t exercise but my neurosurgeon said as the weight comes off and my symptoms start getting better, I will probably be able to incorporate more movement in my life. I can’t even walk around my apt for too long right now cause it builds pressure in my brain. it fucking sucks because this is something they don’t understand, it’s really only diagnosed if everything else has been ruled out (and with a lumbar puncture, but I am too fucking traumatized to have that done. but if I showed high pressure with no reason for it, it would be an ‘official’ IIH diagnosis). but I’m choosing not to do the LP because if I start to have my symptoms relieved as I lose weight, it’s pretty obvious that’s what this has been from the start my brain thinks it has a brain tumor and is going absolutely batshit insane and no matter how much I tried to get people to believe me, it took 11 months to get there. I will carry this with me for the rest of my life and once covid eases, I’m finding a good trauma therapist and working through this if my symptoms DON’T ease, we’ll talk brain surgery. but I think this is what I have and I think I’ll be okay when I lose enough weight (and I’ll feel better all around lol) anyway I’ve had an extremely bad couple of months and I wanted to get this off my chest, sorry it’s so long. if you can please, please, please cross your fingers for me and wish me luck that this is what it is and that over the next handful of months I lose the weight and get my life back, I will appreciate it more than I can say I’m going to thank all of you ahead of time because I lack spoons to reply right now and I also want to thank you all for your support over this last year and never doubting me. for always offering me words of encouragement and for being angry on my behalf. thank you thank you thank you I love you all <3