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melanchoire · 5 months ago

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g!p jealous ceo giselle please?

cw: anal, blowjob, breeding, creampie, degradation, deep throat, hair pulling, handjob, humiliation, spanking.

ceo giselle would be the ceo who gives the worst headaches because she knows how to get under your skin

you can’t complain about your job as a personal assistant and secretary because it’s a good job, the pay is good and you need the job. over time you obviously got used to her, but she is still the same undisciplined ceo with a shitty attitude and passive aggressive comments that she was on the day of your first interview

typing, preparing and collating reports was one of the most exhausting tasks you could have, you would always much rather answer calls and respond to messages than deal with all the paperwork full of words that mean absolutely nothing 😮‍💨 when you go to giselle’s office and leave the papers on the table, she gives you that demeaning look and a mocking grin that you despise so much. she always looks for even the smallest mistake and focuses on the small details to minimize your work

“the word you used here is informal. change it.”

“you forgot to put a full stop here.”

“i don’t like the font you used on this document. please write the report again. i want it tomorrow at the same time as today.”

but you have to keep a good attitude and behavior!! so keep a smile if you don’t want to be fired 😄 nodding at her command and walking out of the office, crumpling the paper into a ball and throwing it in the trash as soon as you leave her office

she also treats you like her slave 💀 your job as a secretary also requires you to take on receptionist duties in addition to your administrative responsibilities. for example, greeting clients arriving for conferences or meetings and being the person who helps visitors settle in, bringing refreshments, taking notes during client meetings, etc. in addition to scheduling meetings and conferences, your job was also to take responsibility for organizing and leading meetings. yes, giselle often forces you to participate in her conferences

but giselle treats you like you’re a maid, snapping her fingers followed by a “get me and the men a cup of coffee. you know how i like it: hot and not much sugar. be quick.” and you don’t know if it's her attitude that puts you in a worse mood or the way the businessmen are looking at you

but here we go again, keep a smile if you don’t want to be fired

but today was different. you felt like men were making fun of you because they looked at you with funny expressions when you talked, interrupting you to ask stupid questions or comments that were slowly making you angry. they even gave you glances from head to toe without worrying about being discreet, this being the only thing that seemed to bother giselle

“we’re thirsty. go get us some fresh water. room temperature.” another snap of her fingers, but giselle’s tone is more demanding and that makes you feel… turned on?? you never liked her orders, or well, you didn’t like to admit that you liked listening to them, but that’s a secret 🤫🤐

men collectively directing their gazes at your body as you leave the meeting room 💀 giselle getting so pissed off that her tongue hits the inside of her cheek to keep from telling everyone to fuck off, but her anger is so big that she ends the meeting immediately and throws all the men out of the room

ohhh and giselle is pissed as hell and you notice it when you get back to the conference room she grabs you by the arm and practically throws you against the table

“giselle, what the fuck is your problem?”

“what the fuck is your problem? acting like a slut in front of all those men, seriously? do you have any idea how that could affect my company’s image? you’re a whore, (y/n)…”

and of course you get upset by her accusations!! giselle always tries to be on your ass all the time, and you try very hard to remain professional, but she exhausts your patience and you dare to respond

you dare to answer. answer to giselle

“why don’t you go fuck yourself, giselle? i’m sick of your smug, shitty attitude.”

so giselle gets upset because you dare to talk to her in a bad way and decides to shut you up by making you give her a blowjob? WELL YES—

as she forces you to your knees you give her a dirty look, trying to stand up but she grabs your hair in a ponytail and gives it a hard tug SHE ALSO SLAP YOU WITH HER THICK COCK?!?! giselle just loves to see the death stare you give her…

giselle smiles in amusement as she sees your pathetic attempts to free yourself from her grip, placing your hands on her thighs and trying to push her away, but giselle places both hands on either side of her head and pushes you down onto her cock, moaning as she thrusts into your mouth and uses you like a fleshlight 🥴

looking down to meet your tear filled eyes looking up at her, the obscene noise of you choking on her length and the feeling and her head hitting the back of your throat and your nose tickling against her pelvis with every thrust 🤤 but she doesn’t cum in your mouth, instead she pulls out a few seconds before cumming, jerking off her cock and shooting thick ropes of warm and sticky cum onto your face 💕 mainly by dirtying the lenses of your glasses because since she saw you using them when you were in front of the computer or reading documents, something in her brain changed completely 😊

then she pushes you onto the table without bothering to remove any papers or documents from it, placing one hand on the back of your head to push your face into the hard wood and using the other to push your skirt up to your waist, drooling at the sight of your perfect ass and soaked panties 😵‍💫 giselle doesn’t waste any time and squeezes your asscheeks and then gives one of your cheeks a hard smack that leaves the print of her palm in a bright red tone, it’s something gigi has wanted to do for a long time and has always been resisting, so today she is going to take advantage of the opportunity!!

fucking your ass because she says your pussy doesn’t deserve her cock :( making you beg and whimper at how much your pussy was leaking and clenching around nothing

“you can go and ask one of them to fuck you, you know? i bet you even fuck my employees when i’m not looking, don’t you?”

and even when she is destroying your ass she doesn’t stop being rude to you 😔 pulling your tie just enough so that it tightens around your neck and takes away your breath for a moment, grabbing your tits from behind and squeezing them over your shirt, groping your ass and digging her fingers into your skin…

cumming inside you and pulling out of your ass with a filthy “pop”, forcing you to open your own cheeks to admire in detail how her creamy essence slowly oozes from your hole and maybe forcing you to push it inside you again using two fingers 🥴

collapsing without air on the large table in the meetings room, only for giselle to adjust her suit and tell you “tomorrow there will be a job interview to recruit new office workers, try to look presentable. oh, and later i will send you the paperwork i need you to fill out, it’s due on monday.”

but you wouldn’t complain about hard work if it means getting a good fucking from your boss later

#aeri uchinaga #aeri uchinaga x fem reader #aeri uchinaga x reader #aeri uchinaga smut #uchinaga aeri #uchinaga aeri x fem reader #uchinaga aeri x reader #uchinaga aeri smut #giselle #giselle x fem reader #giselle x reader #g!p giselle #aespa #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #aespa smut #g!p aespa

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thewitchandtheassassin · 2 months ago

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The Psychology of Love and Serial Killers Part Two (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Summary: Dr. Maximoff wants to understand you--and understands some things about herself in return.

Words: 2075

Warnings: Language, mentions of death, vague allusions to child abuse, violence, murder

A/N: Part two of our lovely psychologist we all love and adore and god, I love this story so much already.

Taglist: @seventeen-x @milflovers4

-X-

The next time you had the pleasure of seeing Dr. Maximoff was a few days later. You thought it might be Monday? Maybe Tuesday? Time was a blur behind those walls and you had grown tired of counting the days.

But it wasn’t in the way you had expected.

When Agent Rumlow had come to collect you from your cell, it hadn’t been to escort you further into the maximum security facility again—shoving you in Interview Room A—but instead, he tossed you a pair of flip flops before dragging you outside by your cuffs. Tossing you into a van, he glared at you silently as two other agents joined you—Agent Ward and Agent Barton, if you remembered correctly—like he was waiting for you to flinch. To give him a reason to put a bullet in your skull and call it justice.

The ride was long and quiet, the agents in the van keeping watch for a single twitch. Like they expected you to lash out and murder them in cold blood…

Clearly your message was lost on them.

Eventually, the van doors creaked open, and cool morning air rushed in, mixing the sharp scent of rusted metal and early spring rain. It had poured last night and now the world looked freshly washed—clean—even among the shattered glass and faded graffiti of the abandoned church on Monroe Street.

Agent Ward and Barton flanked you, both tense despite the restraints on your wrists. Wanda stood a few steps ahead of you, staring at the decrepit house of worship like it was a puzzle piece for an image only you and her seemed to understand.

“This one,” she said quietly, barely turning her head toward you, “was left kneeling in front of the altar, wasn’t he?”

She had no file in her hand, no notepad to document your response. She must’ve looked over this crime scene half a dozen times in the photos, studying the case notes like they were biblical. It was clear, whatever was happening here, wasn’t meant for her analysis. She wanted to feel the moment for what it was—a peek into your mind.

The agents exchanged wary glances, hands still lingering near their weapons, but Wanda ignored them, her attention solely on you.

She finally turned, eyes sweeping over you thoughtfully. “I want you to show me. All of it. Walk me through what happened here. What you saw. What you felt. What he felt.”

You looked at her for a moment, lifting your hands with a chuckle. “Does that require these to stay on? I promise I’ll be good, doctor,” you purred, flexing your fingers pointedly.

Wanda smirked, tugging at your cuffs slightly as she looked you over thoughtfully. “They believe you’re less dangerous in those… but you’re not. You could kill a man in seconds with or without these, couldn’t you?”

“Yes,” you admitted with a shrug. As if this were a normal admittance to make in front of armed agents who were already itching to put a bullet between your eyes.

Agent Barton’s hand twitched around his gun but Wanda waved him off, gesturing at your cuffs, “Take them off her.”

Stunned, Barton’s head tilted in confusion. “Dr. Maximoff, that’s—”

“She won’t hurt me,” Wanda said with certainty, studying you. “Take them off and give us some space.”

Agent Barton hesitated for a moment before he warily reached out and grabbed your cuffs, popping them open. He didn’t speak as you rubbed the raw skin left visible to the naked eye—or the way Wanda reached out to grasp your arm as she led you into the church. Her grip wasn’t harsh—wasn’t as if she was expecting you to make a run for it. No, there was something almost… gentle about her touch.

It was the first real kindness you’d been presented with since your capture.

“Did you ever look into the “victims”, Dr. Maximoff, or did you decide my actions were damnable without due diligence like your colleagues?” you asked curiously, following her inside. “When I asked Agent Romanoff, she told me this wasn’t about them—it was about my actions.”

You smirked, tilting your head as you wandered towards the sanctuary.

“But isn’t it about them too? Why I chose them and not some random asshole on the street?”

Stepping into the grand—albeit crumbling—cathedral of the old church, you peered around at the old blood smears on the faded carpet and the tapestry hanging above the baptismal.

“So your victims weren’t random,” Wanda hummed, as though she’d suspected as much but you’d confirmed it for her. “Interesting.”

You glanced over your shoulder at her. “You don’t seem surprised, doctor.”

“I’m not,” she admitted with a breathy noise that almost could’ve been considered a laugh, though it was evident she was attempting to remain somewhat professional. “I read about what was done to Father Lundy. Left at his pulpit for morning mass to find him—but his wounds were clean. Very little blood, almost no rage. Just a simple execution. Why is that?”

“His congregation—the ones who protected him, called him a good man—needed to see what the fruits of their labor brought.”

Wanda paused, watching you thoughtfully as you strolled over to the pulpit, dragging your fingers languidly over the wood. “Protected him? From what?”

“Consequences, doctor,” you smirked, arching a brow. “Ooh, you really haven’t done much research yet. That’s truly a shame. It’s amazing what you’d find out about those men. All their nasty little secrets that somehow just…” you spread your fingers like an explosion, a pop escaping your mouth. “Disappeared.”

Stepping closer, Wanda stared at the stains of crimson that had long turned dark on the floor. “All of your victims were all trusted men. Beloved. Men who were supposed to protect the innocent. And yet you left them like offerings. Parks, churches, one outside of the library…”

Her brows furrowed in consideration, like she needed to believe you weren't killing for the thrill of it all—but for a deeper reason. For something far more righteous. Or maybe profane.

She hadn’t decided yet.

“They didn’t die for nothing, did they?”

You snapped your fingers with a grin. “Bingo, doctor. Now you’re catching on. Every single one of them did unforgivable things. And I… simply corrected what the system didn’t. I just… unmasked them for the world to see the truth. No one is exempt from consequences.”

Pressing her tongue against the back of her teeth for a moment, Wanda studied you. “Did you enjoy it? Killing them?”

Tapping your finger against your chin almost mockingly, you chuckled. “That, my dear doctor, is a loaded question. Do I enjoy the act of murder? No. Was it satisfying to see them on their knees, begging for mercy? Confessing their sins? You have no idea.”

Wanda’s eyes darkened fractionally. Like your words had anchored deep into her chest, even if she refused to acknowledge it. That your conviction left something within her soul…

Shifting.

“Show me how you did it,” she instructed, voice wavering just slightly. “Walk me through it. Every action. Every word. I want the picture of what happened here. Of what he looked like when he realized you weren’t here to confess your own sins.”

Exhaling softly, you strolled around the room like you were stepping back in time, dragging your fingers along the pews languidly. “He was my third. I’d heard rumors—whispers about what he’d done to the people in his congregation—so I planned. Watched. Joined the Sunday morning crowd a few times just to watch him.”

You sneered in disgust.

“And what I saw were dozens of people covering up his indiscretions. So I came back one evening, joined him for confession. But when I started asking about the rumors, well… turns out Father Lundy didn’t appreciate my questions.”

Wandering back to the pulpit, you stared up at the cracked stain glass window on the back wall.

“People often run when they’re confronted with what they’ve done if they’re guilty. And he certainly tried to run.”

You remembered the way his feet pounded against the carpeted floor as he’d run, the way he begged for your mercy—

“I’m not the one you should be asking for forgiveness,” you’d muttered, standing behind him as he kneeled in front of the pulpit, a knife pressed between his shoulders. “You hurt all of those innocent lives and yet you stood at your podium and spoke of sins and righteousness.”

The blade slipped a little farther into his skin—just enough to sting—as you leaned down and whispered, “Wasn’t one of your sermons about ‘actions having consequences’? Well, sir… I’m your consequence.”

You stood tall. “Beg Him for forgiveness… confess to your crimes. There’s no one here to save you now… and there’s no one to lie to.”

And he had.

Confessed to every vile, impure thing he’d done. Every act he and his congregation had covered up while sniveling like a pathetic child. It had been cathartic—but not enough. It wasn’t enough until his blood was spilt across the floor and left slumped in front of his pulpit, hands clasped in a long-silenced prayer.

“And they were all like him?” Wanda asked curiously, running her hand along the wooden top where notes once rested. “Monsters in plain sight?”

You hummed in affirmation. “Mhm. I always found it amusing they closed the church after they found his body. I wondered how many of them expected they’d be next.”

“Agent Barton and Romanoff believe you’re a narcissist—killing for your own pleasure because it gives you a thrill—but that’s not the case, is it?” Wanda stepped closer, hand almost grazing your back as she really looked at you. “When’s the last time you slept through the night, (Y/N)? When was the last time you slept without seeing their faces behind your eyes?”

Smiling bitterly, you glanced at Wanda and shrugged. “Years, I suppose. That’s the thing about this, Dr. Maximoff… if one becomes a monster to fight other monsters, are they truly evil? If one monster kills five… ten… twenty… aren’t there technically less monsters in the world? I lose sleep to do what must be done because no one else will. I give their victims the justice no one else did. I dragged their monsters into the light so they’d be able to stop worrying about the creatures in the closet.”

In that moment, she hated that she understood you. Understood the rage of watching horrid people do despicable things without fear of judgment because they knew the world would never stop them. Hated that some piece of her wanted to let you continue what you’d started—wanted to know what their blood felt like in her own hands.

She’d seen it in Sokovia, long ago, when the leaders of their country watched their country burn and did nothing to stop it. That her parents died for a war they never wanted to be a part of.

Swallowing, Wanda forced words she didn’t quite believe from her mouth, the usual script playing in her head even as she mentally watched the papers begin to catch fire, “It’s not your place to decide what’s a death sentence. You don’t get to become judge, jury and executioner, even—”

“Even when the courts won’t? Doctor, every single man I killed got away with his crimes because someone was easily bribed or too stupid to see a repeated pattern but I’m the one who’s wrong for stopping them? They break the rules and they’re still considered heroes. I do it and I become a monster. Hardly seems fair.”

You stepped away from Wanda, your expression twisting into something emotionless and cold. Whatever connection that had been forming severed in an instant and fuck, did Wanda feel the band snap like a slap to the face.

“I believe we’re done here, doctor. I’d like to go back to my cell now.”

She opened her mouth, but you turned away, heading for the front door of the church. Frustrated and thoroughly done with your walk down memory lane. The first time someone seemed to understand and yet—

She didn’t… not now, anyways.

But she would. You’d make sure she did. One way or another. Because the darkness that lingered in your bones had long settled in hers…

She just hadn’t acknowledged it.

Yet.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagine #reader insert #reader imagine #mcu imagine #marvel imagine #scarlet witch

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ellana-lavellan-official · 9 months ago

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Weekes on Solavellan after Veilguard

I'll be documenting everything they say on bluesky/interviews that may add more context to what we see in a game.

Disclaimer: Personally I'm happy with the ending, but the execution leaves to be desired. Still Weekes replies helped me look at last exchange between Solas and Lavellan in a better light, so hopefully others will find what they look for too.

Question: Does he want to reunite? Is it a choice he makes himself? Lavellan is open and proactive during conversation, but he almost seems resigned. “There is no fate but our love” does he realise he can say no?

Weekes: My intention was that after almost destroying the world, he does not feel he deserves love until he fixes what he did wrong (just like he couldn't move forward until he fixed the wrongs he did in Mythal's service). That's why the Inquisitor has to reach out to him.

Question: Was the nature of that solas/Mythal was more queerplatonic than romantic? And if Solas had to choose between Mythal and Lavellan, with whom might he consider sharing his life or save in the face of great danger?

Weekes: Mythal is Solas's past. Horrible mistakes made with good intentions. Lavellan is the hopeful future Solas doesn't think he deserves until he fixes the world he broke.

Question: Can you share any insights on what was going through Solas's mind after Mythal freed him and before he goes into the Fade with Lavellan?

Weekes: That one I think I need to let sit until it's been a bit longer.

Question: One more question, if you can answer! Was solas under a geas for Mythal?

Weekes: It's a possible reading, but there are plenty of people who made terrible decisions for a charismatic person and then felt like they didn't have a way to go forward. It's a story about regret, and regret requires choices.

#solas #solavellan #dragon age veilguard #veilguard spoilers

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wheelscomedyandmore · 2 months ago

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Red Skelton once casually revealed in an interview with People magazine that he had altered his birth year in official documents. He didn’t go into detail—just a quiet admission, without drama. But behind that small confession lay a story far more poignant than most ever knew.

Many believed Red was born in 1910, though most records later confirmed 1913 as the true year. The discrepancy wasn’t a publicity stunt, nor a vanity-driven attempt to seem older or younger. It was survival.

Red grew up in Vincennes, Indiana, in a family weighed down by hardship. His father had died before he was born, leaving his mother to raise four sons alone. Money was scarce, and hope was often even scarcer. As a child, Red saw the exhaustion in his mother’s eyes and the weight she carried. He wanted to help—but help required work, and work required age.

So he added years to his age, just enough to pass for someone old enough to sell newspapers, sweep floors, and take on whatever small job he could find. He’d walk the streets in worn-out shoes, selling papers for pennies, handing most of what he earned to his mother without hesitation. It wasn’t a grand gesture. It was just what love looked like in their world.

That quiet lie about his age was never meant to fool the world. It was a child’s way of saying, “I’ll carry this burden too.” And in many ways, that small act of sacrifice foreshadowed the man he would become—one who gave generously, carried his pain with grace, and always tried to make others smile, even when life had given him every reason to weep.

#vincennes #clown #redskelton #Indiana #vintage #comedy #skeleton #funny #hollywood #CBS #clowns #vintagestyle #class #reel #comedyshow

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sweetsaladpainterranch · 7 months ago

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Challenges in Raising a 6 Month Old Demon

Daddy Duty (your p.o.v.)

...

It was 7:30 am in the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel and you were preparing to leave to accompany Charlie and Vaggie. to the Vee Tower in order to conduct a new interview with Katie Killjoy for the furtherment of the redemption project. However, this means that you must leave your husband alone with your fawn in the hotel for the entirety of the day for the first time since she was born. To say that you sensed some amount of trepidation from the buck was an understatement, but you knew he’d rather kiss Angel before he’d admit to any weakness. (Plus the spider demon promised to assist if needed.)

“Darling, you’ve absolutely nothing to worry about.”, he promised you again with a tense smile while you placed the latest report of redemption numbers and notices from Heaven into a travel case, “But are you quite sure that you are required for this venture with our fearless leader?”

You sighed and finished gathering your paperwork, “Alastor, you know how Charlie is with logistics documents. She doodles across all of them and no one can figure out what in the hot sauce is on them. Not even her!” You grimaced when you remembered the last meeting at the Heavenly Embassy when the princess passed out her crayon version of the documents to the awaiting angels. However, none could read them and she broke out in another duet with Emily. So, you, with an administrative background, took the role as logistics coordinator for the hotel and forbade her from touching any more paperwork.

“It’s just one afternoon, love.”, as you walked toward the entry doors and to the waiting car, “There are spare diapers and clothes in the nursery for Evangeline, but she shouldn’t wake until 9. I have every confidence in your abilities.”

You leaned in and whispered low in his ear, "Do NOT let me down, Alastor."

You didn't miss the strained grunt of static that echoed within his throat as you placed a tender kiss goodbye on your mate's blushing cheek.

...

They're fine. They're fine. They're probably fine... You chanted to yourself throughout the entirety of the interview. It went exactly as you thought it would.

Katie says something cutting to undermine the hotel

Charlie slowly loses her confidence and temper

Vaggie encourages Charlie (which leads to an upbeat, determined song about friendship)

By the 2nd chorus, you stood by the camera with raised cue cards, with the redemption numbers that you had prepared in case things got off track, and made eye contact with Vaggie to return to the matter at hand. She took a deep breath to calm herself and began to rein her girlfriend in with a gentle hand to the shoulder. The princess instantly relaxed and shot the small moth a grateful look full of love before continuing to list off the successes of her project on your cue card.

You knew that look well and sighed with relief that things would be fine (in spite of Tom Trench somehow spontaneously combusting and collapsing onto the floor).

But your mind continued to wonder back to Alastor and your daughter. She must have woke up by now and he must've gone to tend to her, but what if she didn't want to feed? What if you didn't leave the correct formula or what if they try to burn down the kitchen again and destroy the entire hotel??

You cringe as you remember the last sparing duel between the two deer demons (over who got the last cookie from Rosie's) that lead to an entire floor of guests being trapped in the shadow realm for a week...😑... The idiots loved each other fiercely as father and daughter ought to but they were far too much alike. Always ending up locking horns (or antlers) in, what you can only assume to be, a futile attempt at familial communication.

Your mind flooded itself with possible worse case scenarios involving the entire city falling prey to shadow nonsense.

No... they'll be fine. He knows how important this interview is and I've only been away for the afternoon. How much trouble could they possibly get into?

Fortunately you grounded yourself in Alastor's promise when you caught Charlie finishing up the interview with the video from Sir. Pentious in Heaven attesting to his new life. Emily had asked that he work with her on behalf of the Hell Embassy to properly integrate newly redeemed souls. You handed the disk to the tech director and smiled when the princess cocked her eyebrow at Killjoy in victory as the video proved her capabilities.

The loveable snake angel had just made his stuttered introduction when the large screen surged to show the city center. Katie shot up to cut off Vaggie and Charlie's protest with a middle finger in their faces, "We now interrupt this holy shit-fest with breaking news from the heart of our lovely city."

Everyone looked at the screen in confusion and, then, continued with a sneer, "It seems that our dear Princess's own hotel manager is currently tearing a war path through the city while holding a the famed pornstar, Angel Dust, hostage along with his daughter, Evangeline!" She noticed how your aura darkened considerably at the mention of your child and snickered the rest of her broadcast. "I guess the Radio Demon is teaching his spawn to torture the unsuspecting guests of Hazbin Hotel from a young age after all!" She casted a side eye to the dumbfounded Charlie, "Seems like such a good idea to check in, dear viewers...", sarcasm and venom dripped from her mouth.

Vaggie cursed in Spanish and rose from her seat with a spear as you could only stare in sheer disbelief (and raising anger) at what you were seeing.

Sure enough, it was indeed an airal shot of a large, black and red blur waving around tentacles through buildings as another, much smaller but still giant, blur hopped in-between the appendages with a flailing Angel Dust caught in one puggy hand.

You were gonna kill them!

...

Hey everyone, this is not my best work but I just needed to write something fun. I think I'm goin crazy with these babies in my house 😂😂

-SSPR

(Sorry, I didn't have time to edit it 😅)

#hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #charlie morningstar #alastor x you

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ngage2003 · 5 months ago

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Jay has an obsession with movies and camera work. It began when he first began to fathom that—rather than simply fall out of the sky—a movies are made by people, from the sets to the clothing to the music, its all a human touch, coalescing together like a dish's complex flavor palette.

I think some of his first few times on the computer were spent trying to read about films, finding forums where people discussed and debated them, pooling together their collective knowledge in a tight knit tapestry of strings on the screen. Never has he had enough access to enough answers though, he has always wanted more, to know more, to understand a film in its totality. He went occasionally I think to the library with Alex, and there he tried to find any books he could on film, buying any magazines he saw interviewing directors, stuffing his room tight with information he read and reread a thousand times.

I think some of Jay's earliest times spent holding a camera were recording shitty home videos, trying to figure out the right mix of artsy and direct, to mimick those what inspired him.

I think he'd show them to Alex most often, who would ruthlessly tear them apart, something that impossibly only prompted Jay to do better, to try again to wow him. To give up felt impossible.

Capturing moments, documenting, cinematography and its complexities and how it captures life—all these things always fascinated Jay. They're what he and Alex bonded over, though Jay was such a different kind of zealot from him.

I think Alex kind of enjoyed it. He loved watching Jay's face light up at the prospect of an exclusive interview or DVD special features. Alex never had a ton of money on him, and he often would be kind of cheap with others, but getting Jay gifts was a different matter sometimes, especially when it required Alex's online expertise to hunt something down.

Normally he would charge for that, but for Jay it was free. He always found excuses for why he owed Jay though, why any thousands of reasons it would be a payback. What were friends for if not that?

#jay merrick #jaylex #kindaaaa #marble hornets #ng.txt #ng.mh

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terrence-silver · 1 year ago

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would you write something about reader who has baby fever but isn’t dating Terry, she works very closely with him, and he starts picking up how much she wants to have a baby

Fringe Benefits

Terry Silver x Reader

—

Each of his future employees got this questionnaire.

It was standard procedure, they said.

Basic inquiries, you supposed. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing you haven’t encountered before. Qualifications. Education level. Past recommendations. Experience level. Why you wanted to work here in particular. Why you considered yourself a reliable member of a team — specifically his team. Your devotion. Devotion, you thought. What did that even mean exactly? Your marital status. Family. Children. Whether you planned any. What you brought to Cobra Kai. To Cobra Kai’s table, that is. What you could offer. The memory of circling each response on the interview application still lingered in your mind like a hazy fog, more so when you sat opposite of him, separated by a black, sleek work desk, immaculately organized and entirely minimalist to a pristine level; something both disorienting and weirdly comforting about the basic aesthetic layout of the dojo gym grounds and the offices adjoined to it, all blue and red neons, creating a vaguely purple sense of womb-like dimness — Terry Silver’s eyes carefully assessing your application paper right before his gaze shot back up at you, speaking with immaculate distinction, yet with ease, like he wasn’t in a hurry whatsoever. You were merely after the job of a junior intern — a starting position; someone who handles basic paperwork, greets people at the registry, makes themselves useful wherever and however is required of them, still, everything felt like you were aiming after the most important position in the world. Perhaps due to the fact there was nobody here and the place felt liminal. Intense. Like you were given every bit of attention contained in the universe by a single person.

-"Most employers —"-

He begins.

-"They’d consider the responses you circled a professional shortcoming."-

He points his nose at the document next to his tidily clasped hands. You gulp.

-"Reason enough not to give you a job. Hire someone else instead."-

He explains maintaining near unblinking eye contact and part of you, that anxious bit coiling around in your belly was convinced this was a lost cause; he was about to gently tell you you’re not getting the job but that he nonetheless wishes you all the luck elsewhere. The deep sinking of your stomach interrupted only by the sudden tenderness in his features overcast by a crimson shadow of a halogen ceiling pipe above head; not an expression of pity, but one of possibility. His brows shoot up. This wasn’t standard procedure anymore, to your knowledge. The actual owner of a company conducting interviews so personally. One on one. Usually, it was a manager's manager. A secretary. Someone almost random in the hierarchy of things, giving off the basic impression that these job openings were merely formal and that the empty spots were long since filled and that everyone who came along to these interviews was going to be rejected anyway and they didn’t really care who does the rejecting so long the impression is given they’re actively searching for new staff. But, this guy? His personal investment in this almost daunted you. Was this some sort of marketing trick for his newly opening dojos? To make him seem relatable? Approachable? Humble enough to do this himself?

-"But, me? Cobra Kai?"-

Terry Silver’s stare flickers with delight.

-"I actually see it as a perk!"-

He smiles with a weird innocence, momentarily distracting you from the fact you still had no clue what part of your application elicited such a positive surprise in him. You supposed you just had to go ahead and ask. Something about him instilled a sense of amicable disposition in you.

-"What do you mean, sir?"-

Before the question even passes over the threshold of your mouth, his index finger extends forward, landing precisely on the circled answer about whether or not you plan on getting pregnant any time soon. Your eyes meet. -"Kids."- He’s suddenly serious, chewing that word like it was a morsel intended to be juiced. -”You want them.”- He adds flatly and you weren’t certain if it was an accusation, praise, a mere statement or something he wanted you to further explain yourself on. His finger holds your circled answer hostage, refusing to move from the paper’s surface. Holding it there so long you had ample time to notice the sapphire pinkie ring finger on his hand. -"Says it right here."- He further assesses and once again, it was so hard to read him. His meaning. If he was pleased by this or not. You choose the best policy to appease him regardless of his mood; by being centrist and entirely politically correct. Trying to say everything and nothing. You really needed this job. You didn’t want to flunk it just because your circled an application answer that implied that maybe, perhaps, just maybe, you’d have kids. -"Well, one day, yes. Sure. Not right now, but I’m leaving my options open for anything. Everything."- You shrug, going for honesty of the most inoffensive kind. He actually flashes you a smile full of teeth. His whole face smiling with him in a net of wrinkles. It hits you then that in spite of his age, he was quite handsome. In fact, his age enhanced him. Made him seem warm. Paternal. Well lived. -"Good."- He coos at you, content. -"Because we’re all about devotion here. Dedication. Working with young people. Investing in the future."- There it was. That slightly baffling word again. Devotion. You say nothing. Choosing to listen instead. Avoid weakening your chances here. The fringe benefits were quite stellar from what you’ve discovered. Amazing healthcare, for one. -"And someone who sees a major plus in having kids of their own? That’s exactly the type of people we need. Means they’re built from the right kind of stuff."- A flash of determination overtakes his features and for a moment, you see him grit his teeth. -"I see."- You fill the gap between dialogues with a filler line and he chuckles, somewhat amused, catching you doing it. This place. Disorienting in spite of the AC unit nowhere to be seen, yet you could feel the cool air blowing in from somewhere from within this state-of-the-art, hypermodern setting where every utility seemed tactically hidden.

-"Don’t you wanna know what kind of stuff the right kind is?"-

You catch a hint of teasing in his tone and you find yourself slightly embarrassed, nodding wordlessly.

Felt like a child examined in class.

-"The type who’s prepared to dedicate their life to something greater than themselves. A belief. A creed. A legacy."-

He enlightens you.

You could guess what the dojo’s philosophy more or less was in vague terms — it was a dojo, after all and the man in front of you was a triple black belt Sensei in his own right and a Vietnam war vet from what you’ve heard, but you weren’t here to lay down life and limb to larp The Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon with anyone. You just wanted to do paperwork for a decent salary with your employer imbued with the knowledge, that hey, he might have to organize paid maternity leave for you and find a replacement for you in case that ever actually happens. Figuratively, of course. You maintain a serious composure, feeling something you weren’t supposed to feel; scared. Curious. Interested. The fervor with which he spoke? You cross your legs underneath the table and you could swear, for the briefest of moments, Terry Silver’s eyelids flutter down, towards your seat, catching you do it. -"I’m not that impassioned, Mr. Silver. I’m sorry. I just don’t mind the idea of having children one day, in the near or distant future, when all the puzzle pieces fall into their place, if all the puzzle pieces fall into their place, and I’m willing to be transparent enough about it within the context of a work place environment so no surprises happen, is all. I’m not raising the next Spartan army, though. Hope that isn’t a disappointing answer."- You find yourself shrugging once more, this time on instinct, keeping calm, wondering why on earth you were justifying yourself so badly anyway. Sure, you did a basic Google search on this place. And on him. Terry Silver didn’t have any children of his own in the first place. No marriages under his belt either. You almost expected bigwigs like him to have several of each. You weren’t judging, you just felt it was peculiar. He was more than good looking too. So, why was this such a huge topic, anyway? Was this even allowed? He kept the questions about your qualifications to a minimal and then — he laughs, apparently delighted by your response.

-"Oh, not at all!"-

He shakes his head, blue eyes practically shimmering.

This felt like one of those weird dreams people tended to have; the type that were almost entirely inexplicable.

-"Cobra Kai isn’t going to let you go or terminate your contract or penalize you if anything unexpected happens. Not my policy. We take care of our own."-

The tension in your back drops hearing that, almost as if a certain weight was lifted from them.

For a man, Terry Silver was as understanding about maternity as a woman would be.

And then he cocks his head to the side.

-"Wouldn’t be very fair play and Spartan if we didn’t, would it?"-

Clearly, your comment entertained him enough for him to repeat it back to you, producing a new piece of document from a drawer and setting it down in front of you alongside a sleek, perfectly jet black pen. Everything here was black. His suit. His desk. His walls. His floors. His ceilings. You weren’t certain if there were any windows. Difficult to tell. Amidst all that neon lit darkness, the pristine white paper stands out, almost burning. A white block of ice. Matching his pale face and gray hair, briefly resembling a clay death mask. -"Just one last form to fill. Right here. Some final questions and you’re as good as set. Monday sound good?"- His finger points once again, down the dotted line, spilling out information so fast that it took you a second to register the fact he was effectively letting you know you got the job while you were too busy looking at what his finger was showing you on yet another questionnaire, your eyes falling on the first of many inquires. One in particular catching your notice, causing your breath to hitch.

- DO YOU TAKE BIRTH CONTROL?

—

You weren’t certain how you ended up in Terry Silver’s bed.3

All you knew is that you wanted to.

It was so easy.

Too easy.

It began with a deep yearning; observing a class for students between ages 3-5 five taking their first steps in Kata on the studio’s mat and Terry doing circles around the dojo, assessing their stances, their movements, how they held their tiny arms, their tiny bodies, the enthusiasm in their eyes. His voice was in your ear once he did a full spin throughout the length of his own domain, encompassing everything like a satellite, keen eyes missing nothing, finding himself next to you and your place at the counter, checking filled application forms and the schedule of classes, while fists punched through the air in unison. Exactly thirty two young students working like perfectly tuned clock work. Funny how kids that small could achieve such discipline. Your heart almost ached. -"Natural, raw talent. Gotta start when they’re young."- He chuckles from next to you, observing his handiwork from a relative distance, giving his small acolytes time to spread out. -"Don’t you just get emotional watching them train?"- His eyes dazzle your way, accompanied by a smile and something within your twists as you nod wordlessly, keeping your attention on your folders and files, suppressing the voice inside of you.

Yeah, wish I had my own, it says.

The months that ensue get harder. It was always the opposite for everyone else, you supposed. The more time they spend at a place of employment, the more the novelty wore off and things tended to settle into their place, but you? You grow restless, leaving the toilet having recovered from an unbidden fit of tears during your lunch break, possibly the second such concealed outburst within just one work week alone, finding no particular reason as to why it happened. Why it kept happening. Nobody was unkind to you here. Quite the contrary. Everyone was like a newfound friend or family, but maybe that’s what made things so difficult; the fact that when you went home every evening, you’d find yourself all alone with nobody to care for. You didn’t even have time to tend to a pet. A cat. A dog. And this wouldn’t be the only occasion he’s cornered you on the topic either. Terry Silver had this uncanny ability to decipher you as upset regardless how craftily you sought to hide it and continue with your work. -"I know what bothers you and I can help."- He corners you in the empty foyer. One thing you learned about him with certainty that he had this habit of invading people's personal spaces. Invading your personal space. Standing too close. The most baffling thing, though --- how much you didn't mind, even as you kept your head bent, gaze averted. You didn't want him to see how obvious it was that you cried even though were certain he guessed.

In spite of that, you fail to recoil once his hand lands on your stomach.

He's done this before. You've let him.

-"Fill the gap right there."-

He whispers and it sends a shiver down your spine.

He came with a proposition a few weeks ago and suddenly, all those peculiar inquires on the job interview questionnaire started to make an awful lot of sense. Too much, in fact. He wasn't just being nosy and scoping out whether or not you'd get impromptu pregnant and leave your own spot vacant for God knows how long. No. It was infinitely more than that. He told you that if you had an itch, he was lending himself available to scratch it. You still haven't given him a yes or no answer on the topic, though and by the looks of it, the devil has come to collect his dues. -"I’m sorry, Mr. Silver, I —"- You stutter, going for avoidance, trying to wiggle out from the closeness of his proximity, but his arm comes up leaning against the wall, cutting your way off. Already, in your mind, you could see tangled limbs, a spine bending forward and his fingers travelling up your back. Instead, you get a voice. His. You inhale sharply once his thumb came up, caressing the outline of your cheek, the slightest remnant of moisture dabbed again by his lingering touch. You weren't sure how to label your relationship with him. Terry had yet another uncanny gift. The ability to make himself disconcertingly close to someone with little to no effort. You've been fucking the man for three months now and god knows why. Why you craved it. Why it felt right. Confusing, but right. Letting your boss hit it raw? What do you even call that? Stupidity? Desire? Falling in love? Being manipulated? -"Ambition requires it’s sacrifices, doesn’t it? Even small, day-to-day ambitions. The ambitions of a Junior Intern. The sacrifice being family. The fact that I can tell there’s no place you’d rather be right now than at home with someone."- His touch touches your earlobe and you close your eyes.

You haven't been doing good lately.

He caught on.

Thing was, you weren't a girl anymore.

You were still young but you were entering that stage in life were every year mattered more and more. Your contract with Cobra Kai alone was one for two years and you imagined it expiring and you once again having nothing. Going home and finding your apartment empty. Would you have time to build something for yourself? Build anything at all? Instead, Terry Silver's arms were right there. Warm. Inviting. So hard to resist. Bearing the promise of everything you that seemed so close, yet so far out of reach.

-"You want me."-

He coos tenderly. You resist, shaking your head, refusing to open your eyes.

-"No."-

-"You want me."-

He repeats himself with more vigor. More conviction.

No. No. No!

-"This is crazy! I don’t wanna get knocked up at work by my boss who’s twenty years my senior!"-

Instinctively, your hands come up feebly, attempting to serve as a shield between your own body and his, only to get caught and trapped by his grip, fingers grabbing wrists, pulling you closer to him. His smile is shark-like. Sharp. -"Thirty."- He corrects with ease, seeming proud of himself. -"Thirty years your senior."- You didn't know what to say to that. Somehow, it made things worse. The guts inside of your belly tighten with ache. You feel it vibrate between your legs. It was hormones. All hormones, you tell yourself. Hormones had the habit of being senseless and dumb like that. Terry Silver was the one giving you your salary, he was old enough to be your grandfather and he was offering to get you pregnant. For your sake, as he claimed. For his own too. You wanted the same things, he explained. So, why not complete each other's long-standing yearnings? Wasn't that what loyalty was all about? What better foundation for an alliance? A relationship, he asked? Suddenly, he lifts his arm, freeing you. -"And why not? You can leave any time. You still haven't."- His eyes flare up with the light of challenge. You were being taunted and tested and you realized as much, finding your body growing stiff, legs refusing to move. So, why didn't you leave? This was technically sexual harassment at the workplace. Yet, you reveled in it. Consented to it. His offer was tantalizing, the way a cup of fresh spring water was to the someone dying of thirst. Your lips part. The thought of having someone completely your own. Cradling them in your arms. Was that so bad? Instead of your belly, the palm of his hand travels lower, cupping you between your legs. -"It would make you happy and you know it."- He murmurs and you didn't have the strength to fight it. You let him continue. He squeezes you ever so lightly, until you felt an internal pressure tickle you from the inside. The type that craved to be filled. -"And I told you the very first day you walked into my office. In Cobra Kai, we’re all about devotion. Taking care of of our own."- He reminds and you lean your head back, allowing yourself to enjoy the sensation, feeling the back of your neck comfortably hit the wall.

-"I didn’t think you’d be so literal!"-

You mutter, breathlessly, letting him do his special magic.

Rubbing you through the material of your trousers.

His cock in his other free hand, pulled out of the thick, black material of his Gi.

-"I’m always literal."-

He clarifies.

You knew as much now.

Knew well enough to take him seriously.

More seriously than anyone before.

You wanted him. Wanted him to knock you up. Crude, but truthful.

-"Let me help you."- He groans, unzipping your trousers, only to spread your legs, slither his hands behind you and grab you by your ass, lifting you up against the wall, fingers digging into tender flesh with bruising ardor. You moan and yelp. Maybe it was you being touch starved, starved for love, in need of sex, missing companionship, but the fact you were about to impale yourself on his cock in the middle of the corridor seemed of little consequence. It was a Friday evening. Past working hours. -"Let me fix everything. All you have to do is be willing to receive it. Receive me."- Terry speaks against your open mouth and you mumble into his, already seeing the future unfold. Feeling it on his breath. The warmth of his tongue. -"I'm willing."- You babble, eyes half-lidded, fumbling with the elastic lace trim of your undergarment, lowering it, giving him entry, feeling yourself wet. -"What was that?"- He teases, tone beaming seriousness, asking you repeat yourself. You do. Anything. You'd do anything. Funny how quickly a person could go from being level-headed and logical to throwing all caution to the wind, you thought. -"I'm willing to receive it."- You almost plead. He pulls back. Momentarily, the warm haze he emanated was lost and you find craving it. Craving it back like nothing you've ever craved before. You could see it so clearly now. His hand tracing the outline of your swollen belly, smiling down at you and unwittingly, your mouth moves with a will of its own. -"Sir."- Terry instructs, unblinking, his cock stroking itself against the lips of your cunt. -"Sir."- You eagerly mimic his words, ready to devour the very air you shared, the distance between you nonexistent. -"You know how some schmucks out there claim they know the exact moment of conception?"- Terry chuckles in between wet kisses, his tip finding it's way between your Labia guided by his hand. You're sloppy, loose and ready for him. -"Well, I always thought that's a load of crap."- He adds, grunting once he nestles himself inside of you, driving you further up the wall, your legs flying up, on either side of his shoulders, held by one free arm. It was astounding how he could expertly hold his balance and your own too and not falter.

He picks up his pace and for once, you smile.

Never in a million years would you think Cobra Kai's workplace contractual fringe benefits would involve this.

-"I just plan to fuck you until I see some tangible results."-

He seethes and now there was a plan you could agree with.

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #old man terry #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #tw; breeding kink #tw; baby fever

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cheri-translates · 1 month ago

Text

[CN] Official Guidebook (Vol. 2): Interview with Gavin

Interviewer: Our interview officially begins now. The questions are related to Officer Gavin's personal life and emotions. Do you need some time to get ready?

Gavin: No need, let's start.

Interviewer: As the Commander of the Special Task Force, Officer Gavin has been producing stellar results. It seems that any problems you encounter will be resolved smoothly. Everyone is very curious about whether there things you aren't good at or things that you find difficult at work.

Gavin: Yes. I'm not good with dealing with work related to documentation. Whether I'm dealing with someone else's report or my own reports, my standard is to be clear, factual and to the point. But certain documents have a minimum word requirement. Very often, even after I have described the situation, I still fall far behind the word requirement.

She once gave me feedback that my performance reports were too brief and missed out on many key points that could have been elaborated on. Before her suggestion, it's true that I never thought about how those portions could be elaborated on. I just found them troublesome.

But after some time of training, even though my documentation skills are still far from being adept, I am now able to meet the word requirement as long as I put in the effort. I also spend far less time doing so. In the worst case, I can always ask her for help.

Interviewer: I never expected Officer Gavin to have such an unexpected side. Everyone knows that STF missions are always accompanied by danger. When a mission ends successfully, how do you reward yourself?

Gavin: I'd reward myself with a bowl of beef noodles. If I'm going to Lynn's Kitchen, the boss would give me extra side dishes.

I'd also turn my phone off and have a good sleep.

It doesn't sound like a reward, but I wouldn't do anything special aside from those things. After all, to everyone at the STF, being able to complete a mission successfully is already the greatest reward. A successful mission means that I can return to her side safely, and that is what's most important.

On the other hand, she often prepares many "special surprises" whenever I'm done with a mission.

Because of this, I feel a greater sense of anticipation whenever I'm done with missions. The first thing I do when I'm done with work is to rush back to her side.

Interviewer: Hypothetically speaking, if you had a personal matter to deal with or had to keep an important person company and needed a long break, what would Officer Gavin submit in his request for leave?

Gavin: "I have things to do."

After all, the person who would approve the leave application is myself. I'm the only one who needs to know the reason.

But most of the time, I'd tell a few people in charge about what I have to do, so that it'd be easier for them to find me if any special situations crop up.

Interviewer: It looks like Officer Gavin does not relax even when he's on leave. I've heard from members of the STF that eating is the only time they can take a break. In terms of diet, does Officer Gavin have any strong likes or dislikes?

Gavin: ...I don't like bittergourd. The first time I ate bittergourd, I didn't know that such a vegetable could exist on this earth.

I had a bad impression of it as a child, so I still can't accept its flavour even now.

I don't like lotus seeds, endives, and other vegetables that are bitter. Since I rarely cook them, it's easy to avoid them. I also don't hard chunks of carrot in stew.

Even though I find them difficult to eat, I'll eat what I'm supposed to. After all, being picky isn't a good habit.

Interviewer: I heard that you raise a potted cactus called Thorny. In the process of taking care of Thorny, are there any interesting stories worth sharing?

Gavin: Hmm... I think Thorny is a cactus with a lot of things on its mind.

Thorny is more lively on sunny days than rainy days. I think it really enjoys sunbathing. When it's comfortable in the sun, the spikes on its body would become shiny. But don't ever touch it. It can be quite painful.

Recently, I found out that if I water it too early or too late, it will be a little unhappy. Is it true that cactuses can also "wake up on the wrong side of the bed"?

Sorry, I was rambling a little. In short, Thorny is a very special existence to me, and I will take good care of it.

Interviewer: I originally thought that Officer Gavin only focused on fighting criminals every day and didn't expect you to have such an interesting life. What do you often do after work?

Gavin: As a member of the STF, there isn't a clear concept of going to work and leaving work. Even when it's after work, my phone would be on standby, awaiting orders. The moment a special situation arises, I will immediately put everything else on hold.

At other times, I would fly up to the night sky for a "stroll", watch the sunrise, go for a spin or play basketball. These things make me feel relaxed.

In the past, I would go for spin around the city multiple times. Aside from relaxation, it also helped me to familiarise myself with the various streets in the city, which was helpful when carrying out missions.

But now, my first stop when going for a spin is wherever she is. I'd sometimes send her to work, sometimes pick her up from work, and sometimes just want to see her for a while. My work day doesn't end at a regular time. To save time, I'd often fly straight to her home or office and knock on the window. This used to give her a scare. But she seems to have gradually gotten used to it.

She knows that I just wanted to see her earlier.

Interviewer: Sure enough, the most important people have a subtle influence on our lives. We found a snippet of a treasured video. Let's watch it together.

Note: The video referred to is from the 3rd Anniversary Interview:

Q: How did the two of you meet? Gavin: She came to the head office because of work, and we investigated a case together. But our story actually started much earlier.

Q: What kind of a person is she? Gavin: Mm… She's kind, gentle, very responsible, and very courageous. The sort of… courage which can give me a fright. Without realising it, her hard work and actions motivate the people around her, making this world even better. That’s something incredible. Oh yes, she has great taste. Recently, my house has become much warmer, and it’s all thanks to her. She also remembers some of the habits I don’t even notice. Now that I think about it, being with her is what’s considered “living.” Before, it could only be considered “existing”. I'm not exaggerating. I’ve changed a lot because of her. Before, no matter how difficult of a time I was in, I’d feel as though I could press on for a little longer as long as I thought of her. Because she’s still waiting for me to come home. But now, that’s not all. When I have no choice but to choose danger, I’ll tell myself to be even more cautious, more careful, and resolve it even more perfectly. Because I know that if I were to get injured, she’d be angry, and will cry. So I need to take greater care of myself, and return to her side in perfect condition. Mm… she looks especially pretty when she smiles. Cough… Actually, I don’t really know what to say for this question. She isn’t someone who can be described clearly with a few simple sentences. But she’s very good.

Interviewer: Looking back at that interview, do you still think the same way as before?

Gavin: The same. The current me is still changing because of her.

Interviewer: She is someone whom you cherish greatly - can I describe her that way? When the both of you go on dates, do you make any special preparations?

Gavin: Not really. I'd just confirm the time that we set off, the condition of the route, information of surrounding shops, the temperature and the intensity of the ultraviolet rays on that day and other things. If we are visiting another city or a faraway place, I'd find some shops where we can rest our feet and new places that she might be interested in. Of course, sometimes we would just take a casual stroll in the city.

If I had to say something... perhaps there are some "special preparations" when I return from a mission. For example, doing a meticulous check on myself to see if there are any injuries. Sometimes, I don't notice trivial scratches because I'm too used to them. But her eyes are very sharp when it comes to this. If she discovers them, her expression would be a little... I don't know how best to describe it. Hide them? No. If I do find a wound, I'd first tend to it properly before preparing a reason for it when she asks.

This should count as a "special preparation", right? By the way, please don't tell her about this.

Interviewer: Even though she isn't anywhere nearby, she can still make Officer Gavin this nervous. It looks that Officer Gavin really cares about her! When the two of you are together, when does she make your heart accelerate most?

Gavin: When she looks at me, when she smiles, when she eats delicious food, when she tilts her head to study recipes, when she's serious at work... My heart always stirs at her every action.

My heart accelerates the most when... hmm... (the interviewee sinks into deep contemplation).

(A rather long time passes.)

It should be whenever I return to Loveland City after a mission and see her for the first time. Sometimes, it's when I just push open the door to the house. Sometimes, it's when I fly to her office window. sometimes, it's at the entrance of the STF... When she sees me, her eyes would instantly light up and she would run to me with a smile.

In that moment, I always hear the sound of my heart racing.

Although I've experienced it many times, the moment my sense of longing is perfected, my heart always beats very quickly.

Interviewer: That's incredibly romantic. Do you think that you're a jealous person?

Gavin: Yes. I think it's pretty obvious.

Although when I know that I'm jealous and know that the things I do can be quite childish and have told myself that it isn't a big deal, my actions are a different thing. I can't help it. When it comes to her, I'm petty. Even if people say that I'm the pettiest person in the world, I don't care.

Interviewer: That's an unexpected answer. If she ever asks you a question that has an embarrassing answer, what would you do?

Gavin: ...I guess I would still respond.

Most of the questions that have an "embarrassing answer" that come to my mind are related to emotions hidden in my heart.

I... have never been good at expressing such things, and prefer to take action. But I would try my best to summarise my emotions. I believe that in the end, I would be able to overcome the feeling of embarrassment. Whether it's good or bad, I want to show her everything I have.

That's the frankness and openness that I had promised to her.

Interviewer: What has she ever said to you that left you at a loss?

Gavin: ...I've always been at a loss when it comes to her.

After all, no matter what she does, my only option has always been to give in.

But if she insists on working while sick, or if she doesn't have proper meals, I wouldn't compromise.

Interviewer: I believe that such a person must have left a deep impression on you. After being with her for such a long time, how do you think you have changed?

Gavin: The most obvious change is that life has become much more regular (laughs). People around me have said that she has made me "glossy and shiny".

Personally, I feel that I've become better at taking care of myself, cherishing myself, and letting loose.

I've begun to hope that I'd return to her side safely after every mission, and I don't force myself to shoulder everything. After all, if I don't do certain things well, she would remember these things in secret and find a way to "deal" with me.

For example, if I get seriously injured, she would revoke my "eating spicy food privileges" to prevent my wounds from getting inflamed... Of course, she would also cook nutritious meals for me.

Also, there are more things to worry about now, and I also understand what fear is.

I think these are very good changes. There may be more of such changes in the future.

Interviewer: After being with her, have you done things that you've never done before?

Gavin: Many. She has made my life richer and more interesting.

Performing in plays, getting serious about cooking, being a model, taking wedding photographs...

None of these things had crossed my mind before. Experiences that I thought would never happen in my life have now become irreplaceable memories. This feeling is very magical and I'm very happy.

I hope that I can also bring her a lot of new experiences and make her feel that each day with me is a happy one.

Interviewer: Since you've done many things that you haven't done before, are there any things that you want to do with her but do not dare to?

Gavin: There were many things back in high school, but they've more or less been fulfilled now. Thinking back on it feels a little miraculous. As for now... of course there are. But I can't tell you about them.

There were many in high school, but now they have basically been realised. Turn around. Look, it's a little magical now... of course there are also. But I can't tell you.

Interviewer: In exchange, please tell us a little secret that she doesn't know.

Gavin: Hmm...

When I was shaving a few days ago, I accidentally bumped into a lipstick that she often uses. It fell on the ground and a corner chipped off.

But I bought her an identical one and put it back in secret. She shouldn't be able to tell... right?

There's an obvious difference between a used and new lipstick? Of course I know that. Which is why I wore it down a little with tissue...

It's still noticeable?!

...

Mm...

...

Do you think I shouldn't have done that?

Interviewer: It would be best for Officer Gavin to consider the lipstick problem by himself! If there is a challenge called "How long can you not think about her", how long do you think your record would be?

Gavin: This challenge wouldn't work for me.

A challenge means is that there is a competition arising from a set goal, and participants would need to have certain qualities to be evenly matched.

I don't have an option of "not thinking about her", so I feel that this record would not exist.

Interviewer: After hearing your answer, I believe your daily life with her must be very sweet. What do you think of creating little surprises in your life together?

Gavin: At first, I didn't care much about "surprises", so I did whatever that came to mind, whether it's visiting her or other things. There was a time when I reflected on whether these overly direct actions would bother her, so I would subconsciously consider what she wanted a little more. I couldn't help it. When I'm with her, I'm not like myself sometimes.

After being together for a long time and understanding each other better, we became more at ease. I found out that she actually liked some of the ways I behaved in the past. During those times, her eyes would be bright when she looks at me, and very pretty. So from time to time, I'd do some things to her that are... how should I put it... "out of character", and some things I'd want to do when I feel greedy.

She likes it, and so do I.

Maybe this is the so-called sense of surprise.

Interviewer: Well, I won't hold Officer Gavin back from work. I'll use the final question to wrap up this interview! If you were to use a phrase to describe your feelings towards each other, what would it be?

Gavin: "The only one."

The only one whose heart stirs. The only one who decides destiny. The only starting point and ending point.

If there is someone on earth who could make me give everything to her without hesitation, it would be her.

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butdaddyilovehim-hs · 2 years ago

Text

The Divorce: Part I

Y/N takes on her first high profile case as an assistant at a law firm. Her first client? Harry Styles.

Word Count: ~ 3k

Warnings: none… yet 😋

Y/N wouldn’t say she was particularly brave. Or outspoken. She didn’t like speaking much at all really, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t good at her job. She just happened to be a bit shy. Sometimes she wondered why it was exactly that she wanted to become a lawyer, a job that required more talking than most others. But here she was, assisting at one of the largest law firms in England. Now she didn’t actually do much legal work; she tended to fetch coffee and organise documents but if she ever dared to speak up, people would quickly realise she was much more intelligent than what she was given credit for.

“Y/N! We have a possible case, a big one. I want you as my right hand woman for this ok? Let’s get you out of your shell a bit eh?” Mr Collins strode up to Y/N’s desk, startling her slightly.

Robert Collins was a joy of a boss and Y/N was grateful for every second she worked with him. He knew she was timid and he didn’t push past her limits. But he was encouraging and sometimes Y/N wished he wouldn’t be as nice to her so that she could prepare herself for the real world outside her little bubble where people were ruthless and unforgiving. Robert also had an extremely pregnant wife at home who was ready to pop at any moment which somewhat accounted for his rather happy in office personality.

“Who’s the client? Do I know them?” She asked, standing and rounding her desk to where Robert stood.

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t. It’s Harry Styles.”

Y/N’s jaw nearly dropped to the ground, but she kept quiet as Robert briefly explained the situation. It wasn’t anything they weren’t used to - high profile divorce, with two people unable to come to a decision on what to split between them.

“We’ll need to draft up a plan this afternoon, we’re meeting him tomorrow. He’s doing interviews himself which is unheard of. He’s looking for the best representation he can find which is understandable - the man has assets. Every law firm in the country wants this case. If we get it, it’ll skyrocket our reputation. Do as much research as you can, I’ll send through a file on everything I have. I need this to be airtight Y/N. He’s one of the most important clients we could ever have and he also has reputation for being a bit of an asshole so we… you need to prepare for that. Don’t screw this up.”

“Of course Mr Collins I’ll get right on it.”

Y/N worked for hours, making a solid plan and editing it until she was finally happy with it. She left the office for the night, long after everyone else, arriving home as the sun started to set. After a quick shower and muesli bar (Y/N knew it wasn’t the most filling of meals but she was tired and frankly could not be bothered) she jumped into bed.

Just as she was closing her eyes, her phone buzzed twice.

Robert Collins: Y/N, Linda is in Labour!

Robert Collins : You’re going to need to take the meeting alone tomorrow. You need to do everything you can to secure this deal. Do whatever it takes. We need this case. We need him. If there’s an emergency call me but otherwise I’ll be at the hospital. Will keep you updated.

Y/N’s heart dropped to her stomach. Take a meeting ALONE? With HARRY STYLES. Oh he had to be fucking kidding. With a groan she flopped back into bed and covered her face with a pillow. This was a nightmare.

“I don’t care who it is, I want the best and I want them now. Do you understand? I’m sure I don’t need to remind you what a sensitive matter this is.”

“Yes of course Mr Styles, right away sir.”

Harry slammed the phone back into it’s receiver, before slumping back into his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. If you had told him in his 20s that he would be CEO of the largest company in the world before he turned 30, he would have smirked, tossed back his whiskey and said that sounded about right. Harry was sure in himself and in his abilities. He was brilliant at his job, however, he had learned that being brilliant at his job didn’t come with being a pushover. As a result, he was ruthless, harsh and didn’t have a reputation for being the nicest boss. Everyone was terrified of him and he liked it that way. Harry enjoyed control. He relished it.

But, if you had told Harry in his 20s that he would be getting a divorce at 35, he would have laughed in your face, in slight disbelief before protesting that he and his wife were as happy as ever, content and in love. He would have said all of that before he walked in on her fucking her pilates instructor in their bed.

Sofia Styles had dissolved into cries and pleas as Harry calmly ordered the both of them to get out, before resorting to screaming abuse at him when it seemed her begging was falling on deaf ears. She wailed about how he didn’t make time for her, how all they did was argue and how she had needs that Harry wasn’t taking care of. Which was… true. Harry had grown tired of their rather vanilla sex life over a year ago, but Sofia had never been interested in changing up their routine.

Before he had fallen in love with Sofia, Harry was a dominant. He took pleasure in taking control, having women submit themselves to him and writhe beneath him. It was safe, it was consensual, it was fun. God he didn’t remember the last time he had had fun. That side of him had quieted when Sofia had walked into his life. But that wasn’t the point. None of it mattered now.

“Mr Styles? Is everything alright?” His assistant poked her head through the door, shutting it behind her softly as she took in his frazzled state. Harry had hired Nancy a few years ago and despite being in her early 60s, she was the most competent assistant he’d ever had. She was also there for motherly advice whenever he needed it. Nancy knew how difficult it was for Harry to have his mother living so far away, so she made an effort to make sure he was eating well and sleeping enough.

“I’m fine. It’s just hitting me all at once. I’m tired.”

“It will pass Harry. I know you, you’ll be alright. Mr Horan called to ask how you were… you also have a few meetings this afternoon. The legal department also wanted me to let you know that they’ve found candidates. I think they were… frightened to call you back, so they called me.” Nancy said, a wry smile on her lips.

Harry gave her a weak smile in return, resting his head in his hands.

“Tell Niall I’ll call him later and that I’m ok. Cancel the rest of my meetings for today if you don’t mind and tell legal I want to meet them all as soon as possible. Tomorrow if they’re able.” Harry scanned his email for the list of candidates pausing as he read one of the names.

“I’d like to see the representative from Collins law firm tomorrow too. I’ve heard he’s quite good."

“They’ve already set up a meeting but actually it’s a “her”.” Nancy corrected.

“Huh?” Harry looked up, confusion evident in his features.

“Meet her. The interview is with his assistant, Mr Collins is caught in a family emergency. Y/N Williams, I believe. She’s Robert’s right hand woman and they specialise in this kind of thing, so you’re in good hands.”

Harry raised a brow.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Don’t scare her away Harry. I know how you can be.” She chided and Harry scoffed.

“That’ll be all thank you Nancy.”

With a roll of her eyes, the older woman shuffled out of the office, closing the door behind her.

Harry rubbed his eyes in irritation, resting his head in his palms. It was going to be a long day.

“Your client is WHO?!?”

“Harry Styles, you heard me the first time Lauren, and keep your voice down! I’m not supposed to say anything, it’s all very private and quiet because of who they are. And he isn’t my client yet.” Y/N exclaimed to her best friend.

Lauren had a tendency to get overexcited about things but Y/N had to admit she had butterflies in her stomach about this too. Harry Styles was without a doubt one of the most attractive men she had ever seen and the fact that she was meeting him today had her wrecked with nerves. She was curious as to what had made his marriage fall apart, at least she assumed that’s what she was hired for, given her specialty. Maybe he was bad in bed, but she doubted it. Maybe he cheated on her? Did she cheat on him? Maybe-

“Y/N! I’ve been calling your name for like 5 minutes what could you possibly be daydreaming about? Mr Styles?” Lauren laughed at the stunned look at Y/N’s face as she came back to earth.

“I wasn’t daydreaming about him! I was just thinking… I wonder what he’s like.”

“Well you’re not going to find out if we keep talking, you’re going to be late babe, go!”

So, after a few words of encouragement, Y/N made her way to the meeting, breathing heavily as she pulled into the carpark.

Styles Incorporated was one of the largest buildings in the city. It had 68 floors, high ceilings and windows that were always shining. Y/N made her way inside, slightly taken aback by the atmosphere. There were hundreds of workers but it was so quiet, almost as though they didn’t dare make a sound. Y/N grimaced at the sound of her heels clicking on the tiles, walking towards reception.

“Hello, I’m Y/N Williams, I’m here for an interview with Mr Styles.” Y/N said politely, almost in a whisper due to how quiet the building was.

The woman at the desk peered at her from behind her glasses.

“He’s expecting you. 68th floor. Glass office, you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you. Anything I should know before I go in?” Y/N meant it as a joke, simply because she was nervous, but the woman nodded.

“Don’t speak unless spoken to, don’t ask any personal questions, and address him as Mr Styles at all times.”

Y/N blinked in shock, before nodding and walking quickly to the elevator. Her stomach turned as the elevator rose, and she took deep breaths to calm herself down. The woman at the desk in front of the larger office gave her a warm smile as she arrived, telling her to head on through.

Y/N swallowed at the sight of the man behind the desk, plastering a shaky smile on her face and entering through the door. His eyes remained glued to his laptop as she stood timidly in front of him for a few moments before clearing her throat.

“It’s lovely to meet you Mr Styles I’m-“

“Late.” He remarked, eyes still on the screen.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re late, Miss Williams. You’re also not who I was expecting.” He looked up at her for the first time and Y/N was taken aback slightly by his features. He looked as though he had been chiseled from stone, all hard lines and piercing green eyes and cheekbones that could cut glass.

“I don’t mean to be rude but I believe I’m right on time.” Y/N checked her watch, noting that it was 10am exactly.

“Around here, if you aren’t early, you’re late. I’m a busy man Miss Williams, if I’m not punctual everything falls apart. Do you understand?”

Y/N exhaled softly, observing the rather irritated man in front of her, gathering her thoughts.

“Of course Mr Styles, I apologise. I don’t want to take up too much of your time, I’m sure this is an issue that you’re eager to move quickly through.” Y/N mentally high fived herself as her voice only shook slightly, even if she had basically rehearsed what she was going to say like a script about 10 times on the way over.

“Take a seat Miss Williams. You look like you’re about to run at any minute and unfortunately for you, I have time.”

Y/N swallowed before nodding meekly and taking a seat on the other side of his desk.

“So I thought I would start with why you should hire-“

“Do I frighten you Miss Williams? You look rather frightened.” He cut her off, a small smirk on his face.

Y/N froze. She didn’t know how to respond to that.

“I’m sorry Mr Styles but I don’t think that’s very relevant to what we need to be-“

“I think it’s relevant. I want to know whether I frighten you or whether you just find me so attractive that you can’t possibly look me in the eye. Maybe it’s both. I tend to have that effect.” He stood, leaning slightly over his desk, towering over her.

“Mr Styles that isn’t very appropriate. It also seems like a bit of a personal question and I’d like to keep this professional.“

“It might not be appropriate Miss Williams, but I am curious. You intrigue me. And as for professional well… I’m certainly not one to talk about what happens inside my office.” He smirked again and Y/N genuinely thought she was about to combust. The betrayal that she felt from the wetness between her legs was also overwhelming to the point where she couldn’t take it anymore. What he was offering she was unsure but Y/N had a job and Robert trusted her to do well.

“Ok well let’s talk. How about we start with the reason you and Mrs Styles feel the need for divorce, so I can properly convince you why our firm is what you need.” Y/N could hardly believe she was rejecting whatever was going on and she also couldn’t believe her voice still worked after all of that.

It was like a switch. One minute he was flirty and suggestive and wildly inappropriate and the next he was dropping back into his chair, the smirk disappearing from his face and instead replaced by a flicker of annoyance and then… sadness? He recovered from his emotive slip quickly and his original stony features were back. It’s a shame, Y/N thought. He’s rather beautiful when he smiles.

“She cheated on me.” He said bluntly.

It took everything in Y/N not to react. But it was almost as though he could tell she was trying to control herself.

“You can laugh. I would. CEO Harry Styles. Has the world at his fingertips and can’t love anyone enough for them to stay.” He laughed bitterly and Y/N almost wished she could give him a hug.

“That’s… not what I was thinking.”

“No? You feel sorry for me then? It’s usually one of the two. It’s alright Miss Williams, when you get to where I am in the world you soon realise that everyone leaves sooner or later.” Mr Styles raised his eyebrows, seeming slightly taken aback by his own admittance. Y/N couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming need to reassure him that he would be alright. It seemed behind his arrogance and cocky persona, he was just lonely.

He cleared his throat, his emotionless mask returning as he checked his watch before looking up at the ceiling and rolling his eyes.

“You have… about a minute of my time remaining before I have other things to be doing. I’ve seen five other candidates today and they were all spectacularly mediocre. So, convince me.”

Y/N hushed the little voice inside that wanted to scream about how he had done most of the talking. Instead, she took a deep breath and explained their plan, just as she had rehearsed in the mirror that morning. She said most of it with her eyes cast downward and when she was finished she raised her gaze slowly, noting the small smirk on his face.

“Ok. You’re hired.” Mr Styles stood abruptly, ignoring the look of shock that flittered across Y/N’s face. Hired? Just like that?”

“Oh really? Well thank you Mr Styles, I’m sure Mr Collins will be in touch.” Y/N gathered her things, slightly relieved to be escaping from the confines of his office.

“Hired on one condition. We win and you go out to lunch with me.” It wasn’t a request. More of a statement.

Y/N’s cheeks flamed as she struggled to compose herself.

“Mr Styles I really don’t think that’s appr-“

“I don’t really care what-“

“Would you stop cutting me off?! For goodness sake let me speak!” Y/N huffed and rolled her eyes, stopping short at the look on his face.

“Oh my goodness Mr Styles I am so sorry, I didn’t mean it. Sometimes my mouth starts working before my brain.” Y/N was aware she was rambling but she couldn’t help it. She’d blown the deal, she must have.

His signature smirk reappeared and Y/N’s shoulder’s relaxed slightly.

“Don’t apologise Miss Williams. I was riling you up. I like a woman who knows what she wants. Do we have a deal?”

Y/N hesitated before thinking back to Robert’s text. Do whatever it takes.

“Ok. I’ll… go to lunch with you if we win.”

“Wonderful. When we win you mean. Now I hate to cut this short darling but I really do have places to be. I’m sure I’ll see you soon, tell Robert to give me a call ok?”

With that, he ushered her out the door, closing it behind her. Y/N stood, frozen for a moment before making her way slowly to the elevator.

What was that?

Harry chuckled to himself as he watched her through the glass walls of his office, talking to herself quietly as she waited for the elevator, cheeks flaming. He got a kick out of making her so nervous, it did great things for his ego. He wasn’t lying, she did intrigue him and if he could convince her, she seemed like the perfect distraction to get his mind off things and a distraction was exactly what he needed right now.

Read Part II here

A/N: So this is part one!! What do you guys think so far? It’s certainly going to get exciting in the next chapter! Thank you for reading xo Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

@lukesaprince @intimacywithceline @styleslover-1994

#harry styles #hslot #love on tour #harry styles ceo #harry styles series #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #harry x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles y/n #harry #harry styles writing

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covid-safer-hotties · 8 months ago

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Also preserved in our archive

By Betsy Ladyzhets

Since early in the pandemic, people with Long COVID have faced challenges in applying for disability benefits, including from their employers, insurance providers, and the U.S. Social Security Administration. Applications often take a long time and are denied even for people who clearly have debilitating symptoms, leading to years-long, arduous appeals processes. The same has been true decades prior to 2020 for people with other infection-associated chronic diseases.

To learn more about the disability insurance system, Betsy Ladyzhets spoke to Barbara Comerford, a long-time disability lawyer based in New Jersey who specializes in these cases. Comerford has represented people with myalgic encephalomyelitis (ME, also known as chronic fatigue syndrome or CFS), for more than 30 years, including high-profile cases like that of journalist Brian Vastag.

Comerford discussed how the process works, her advice for putting together applications and appeals, how Long COVID has impacted her practice, and more. This interview has been lightly edited and condensed for clarity.

Comerford’s tips for disability benefit applications:

Comerford recommends that people applying for benefits extensively document their symptoms. Medical tests such as neuropsychiatric testing and cardiopulmonary exercise testing are her recommended method for documentation, though she acknowledges that these tests can be expensive. Comerford suggests that applicants should be careful to find lawyers and medical providers who have experience with these cases and won’t dismiss their symptoms. During the appeals process, Comerford recommends requesting a company’s administrative record and combing through it for any evidence that they abused judgement, cherry-picked evidence, or made other errors in assessing the case. Make sure to follow deadlines for filing appeals, as cases are closed if documents are not submitted on time.

Barbara Comerford: Should we focus on disability insurance, or do you want to focus on social security disability, or both?

Betsy Ladyzhets: Both, because people [with Long COVID] are applying for both.

BC: Right. And often, people think they should only apply for one, [but they should apply for both.]

Most of the disability plans that people have are often through their employer. Those plans are known as ERISA plans, that refers to Employee Retirement Income Security Act. It was created in the 1970s… Congress created this regulatory scheme, and then immediately created a zillion loopholes that corporations can drive a truck through. Later, ERISA covered all employee benefits in general.

Insurance companies wound up selling policies to corporations saying, “You can get the best people if you offer incentives.” And what’s a better incentive than, if someone gets sick, they can collect a substantial percentage of their salary until full retirement age? These are the sorts of perks that… People think, “If something happens to me, I’ll be protected.” The promise of these policies is that they will give people, usually, between 50% and 80% of their pre-disability income if they satisfy the requirements. Well, that’s a big if.

I’ve been doing this for 38 years. And I can tell you that 38 years ago, these [disability claims] were not problem cases. I used to do them for free for my litigation clients… But over the years, and really starting after 2001 with September 11, all hell broke loose. They [insurance companies] began to get very aggressive. Every time there is an economic downfall, whatever it is, they get extremely aggressive. So you can imagine, with the onset of the pandemic, they knew what was coming.

I did, for many years, advocacy for ME/CFS cases. I represented thousands of people… A lot of my colleagues say, “Long COVID social security cases are almost impossible,” because they don’t know what to do with them. My office hasn’t found that to be the case. I think the difference is, you have to document these cases with as much objective documentation of symptoms that people have… Get neuropsych testing, cardiopulmonary exercise testing, and other tests.

I started doing webinars and seminars [about disability benefit applications] in 2020, because I knew this was coming. At that point, they weren’t calling it Long COVID, they were just saying, some people with COVID weren’t getting better. But I knew it was going to turn into another ME/CFS disaster.

BL: How have you found the rise of Long COVID has impacted your practice? Do you find you’re more in demand now?

BC: We’ve always had a high volume of cases. Quite a few of them were ME/CFS cases. We did a case, Vastag v. Prudential, in 2018. Brian Vastag, who was a science writer for The Washington Post, was my client, and I could not get over how aggressively Prudential was just dismissing him because it was an ME/CFS case.

And the same is happening with Long COVID. We do cases all over the country on Long COVID and ME/CFS. It’s my livelihood, so it’s important for me, but it also makes me a little crazy that people get treated the way they do and that they have to hire people like me.

One of the things that people get upset about is that they have to spend money to medically document their symptoms. And worse than that… I see these Long COVID clinics, with doctors who are completely ignorant on Long COVID, who surreptitiously write notes in the chart that they think it’s a psychiatric case. I don’t know how familiar you are with this.

BL: Unfortunately, I’m very familiar.

BC: It’s awful. Not only is it really hard on my clients… It triggers them to read things that might not be what they said or might not be pleasant. And the number of times that I have seen that and it has sabotaged cases! I have to reconstruct the cases and have the clients contact the clinic [and get them to make corrections].

Mental/nervous limitations exist in all of these [insurance] policies… They can limit someone’s payments to two years if the case is a psychiatric case or mental/nervous limitation with a DSM diagnosis.

BL: I wanted to ask also — there’s been a lot of research on Long COVID at this point, and there was a report this summer from the National Academies specifically in response to a request from the Social Security Administration about Long COVID as a disability, in which they found that this disease can result in inability to work, poor quality of life, all that stuff. Have you seen that report, or other research, like the growing body of research on these diseases, have an impact?

BC: I was asked to comment on that [report]. Part of the problem with Social Security’s initiatives in this regard is that every social security case goes through what they call “sequential evaluation process.” You have to go through five steps to determine whether or not someone’s disabled. And among those steps is [matching people to a “medical listing of impairments,” but the list doesn’t include major symptoms for ME/CFS and similar diseases].

Years ago, there was a ME/CFS ruling called 99-2p. It offered guidelines [for ME/CFS cases that don’t fit the typical Social Security process]. After that, I was asked to present to the national association of Social Security judges, there were 500 judges in the audience. And I asked, “By show of hands, how many of you are familiar with 99-2p?” Two hands went up.

Despite the guidelines, in practice, [the judges aren’t familiar with these diseases]. Until there is a time when we can come up with a firm diagnostic criteria for Long COVID, and we can say, “This is what you have to document for this illness.” … And it can’t just be a positive COVID test, because many people got sick before testing was prevalent or they got sick after people stopped documenting that they were positive.

The other problem for Long COVID cases is it’s not like cancer or a broken leg or herniated disc or something that people are accustomed to. Those people are not told they’re crazy. Those people are not told they’re imagining it. Those people are not told, “Well, we just don’t buy it.” This is what happens with [Long COVID] and ME/CFS. The psych component that they try to pigeonhole these cases into is really a master stroke by the insurance industry that spends billions of dollars trying to persuade people that anyone who files for these benefits is a crook or fraud.

BL: It’s infuriating, especially when you see how deeply people’s quality of life is impacted by these diseases.

BC: Yes, every part of their life is impacted.

BL: I see what you’re saying about needing diagnostic criteria. In this time where we don’t have that yet, what would you want to see the Social Security Administration or other government agencies do to make it easier for all these people who are applying for benefits with Long COVID and ME/CFS?

BC: They should [reevaluate] the sequential evaluation process, which has been there forever, and look at medically determinable impairment in the context of Long COVID and ME/CFS. These diseases can be documented by things like neuropsych testing.

I’ll quickly go through the five-step sequential evaluation process. The first step is, “Is the person engaged in substantial gainful activity?” That is something you can do predictably, something that will last at least 12 months, and something that leads to gainful work, where you get paid and you can report for a job either part-time or full-time. In Long COVID cases… you have to document that this person is not engaged in substantial gainful activity because they don’t know tomorrow if they’re going to be able to get up and get out of bed and take shower, never mind report for work.

If you satisfy step one, they go to step two. There, they ask, “Do you have the ability, in light of your disability, to perform basic work-related activity?” Sitting, standing, reaching, pushing, pulling, reading, concentrating, things of that nature. And, “Does the disability negatively impact your ability to do these things?” [You need medical evidence, which can come from] a physician’s evaluation from a Long COVID clinic, for example.

If you have that, you go to step three, which is where that horrible “medically determinable impairment” crap comes in. There isn’t {a specific listing} yet for Long COVID, although they’re talking about it. Frankly, we’re still waiting for them to do one for ME/CFS, so I’m not holding my breath. That’s the only step in the process where, if they don’t satisfy it, you can still move on to the next step.

The fourth step is, “Is this person capable of performing the work that they performed for the last five years?” Until June of this year, it was the last 15 years… So we go through each job they had, all their symptoms and limitations and why they can’t do [the job anymore]. If we document successfully that they can’t perform their past relevant work for the last five years as a result of their disability, we can then go to step five.

Step five, the burden shifts to the Social Security Administration. Social Security has to document that, in light of a person’s age, education, and work experience, that there is no work in the national economy that they could perform. [To do this], Social Security has a big graph called the “medical vocational guidelines.” And essentially, the younger you are, the more skills you have, the more education you have, and the more skills that are transferable, generally you are found not disabled. But the graph is not supposed to be used for cases that involve what we call non-exertional and exertional complaints together. Pain, fatigue, things of that nature are all part of the non-exertional limitation.

That is how we lift ME/CFS and Long COVID cases out of that graph. Despite the fact that many of our clients are very young, many of them are highly educated, many of them have developed skills that are not only transferable, but are also in high demand in the national economy — [we say that] because they can’t predictably perform sustained work of any kind, the grid should not be used to find them not disabled. But with all of this, every one of these cases, medical documentation of limitations is crucial. I can’t emphasize that enough.

BL: I know a lot of people in Long COVID community, they’ve already sent in their applications, and then it gets denied, and then they have to appeal. What is that process like, and how would you suggest people go about finding someone like you?

BC: It’s really important to do some research. You want to know if the doctor or attorney you’re dealing with has experience in these cases… I do [webinars and one-on-one education] for lawyers all the time, because I’d rather them hear what has to be done, and understand what happens if they don’t do it.

If I’m giving people advice on appeals… If it’s coming from a United States employer, you’re going to be governed by ERISA. That’s important because people might file a claim without knowing the exact company policy. Despite the fact that federal regulations require employers to give that information to employees, when someone gets sick and files a [short-term] disability claim, they are immediately cut off from the employee benefits portal [that has all the exact policy information]. So then I’ve got to write a letter to the employers, and fight to get that information.

You can’t even get discovery in these cases… Sometimes they will award benefits, and then six months in they’ll say, “We no longer believe you’re disabled.” Under ERISA, [employers and insurance companies] get all the advantages.

BL: It seems like people should know, if you’re filing against an employer, to save that policy information before you lose access to it.

BC: When you get the notice of a denial, you can request a complete copy of the administrative record. You are entitled to see everything that the insurance company had on the case, and under federal regulations, they have 30 days to produce it.

And then you have 180 days to appeal that [denial]. People say that’s a long time. It’s really not. Because you’ve got to go through thousands of pages of documents. You’ve got to document where they abuse their discretion. It’s not enough to have medical evidence… [The standard you have to push back on is that] the insurance company or the employer has a “reason” to deny the claim.

The lawyer’s job or the claimant’s job is to show all the examples they found in the administrative record that show [mistakes or poor judgement on the part of the insurance company or employer]… Sometimes, you will see reports of experts that they’ve retained to review the case, and the expert will say, “I think it’s a payable claim.” And then the next thing you find is them looking for another doctor who’s a little more receptive to their suggestions. If we see they’ve ignored the opinion of one of their experts, that’s an example of abuse of discretion and arbitrary, capricious conduct. Cherry picking the evidence is another thing you often see in these cases.

BL: So it’s not just sending your own medical records, you have to show that the company has messed up.

BC: The insurance company or the employer, whoever is paying, you have to show that they abused their discretion.

BL: Is there anything else, any other advice or resources you would give people?

BC: This is really important. If it’s an ERISA case and they do not get that appeal in within 180 days, they’re foreclosed from pursuing it any further… [It’s a big mistake] if you blow those time deadlines.

All articles by The Sick Times are available for other outlets to republish free of charge. We request that you credit us and link back to our website.

#mask up #public health #wear a mask #pandemic #wear a respirator #covid #covid 19 #still coviding #coronavirus #sars cov 2 #long covid #covid is not over

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mariacallous · 4 days ago

Text

Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem rejected criticism of her agency’s flood response in Texas as “fake news” during a Sunday appearance on NBC’s “Meet the Press.”

Noem pushed back against a New York Times report that found thousands of calls to the Federal Emergency Management Agency disaster assistance line went unanswered in the days following the flood, in part because the Department of Homeland Security had allowed call center contracts to lapse.

“It’s discouraging that during this time, when we have such a loss of life and so many people’s lives have been turned upside down, that people are playing politics,” she told host Kristen Welker, calling the investigation “false reporting.”

Documents reviewed by the Times showed that nearly two-thirds of calls to FEMA’s disaster assistance line went unanswered on July 6 and 7. Still, Noem insisted the story needed to be “validified,” appearing to create a hybrid with the words “validated” and “verified.”

She also dismissed accounts from FEMA whistleblowers as “anonymous attacks” aimed at politicizing the situation.

The Times report noted that it took until five days after the July 4 floods to reinstate call center contracts, in part due to a new internal policy requiring Noem to personally sign off on all DHS contracts over $100,000.

In an email to the Times, a spokesperson for the Department of Homeland Security blamed FEMA’s responsiveness issue on an unexpected spike in demand.

“When a natural disaster strikes, phone calls surge, and wait times can subsequently increase,” they wrote. “Despite this expected influx, FEMA’s disaster call center responded to every caller swiftly and efficiently, ensuring no one was left without assistance.”

Elsewhere in the interview, Noem tried to reframe former President Donald Trump’s calls to dismantle FEMA, claiming he isn’t looking to eliminate the agency but simply wants to see it “remade.”

“I think the president recognizes that FEMA should not exist in the way that it always has,” she said. “It needs to be redeployed in a new way, and that’s what we did during this response.”

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freckles-things · 2 years ago

Text

Signs of the Past

Summary: A new case at a high school, a young girl with an uncanny resemblance to one Aaron Hotchner and a revelation that shakes up both of their lives.

Requested by: @duruxoxo (I hope it’s what you had in mind. I’m sorry that it took me so long!)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader; BAU Team x reader (platonic)

Warnings: Jack and Hailey don’t exist in this one, case typical violence, mention of death/killing

----

Agent Aaron Hotchner, the stoic leader of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, sat at his desk, pouring over case files. The team was investigating a series of disturbing incidents revolving around the disappearance of high school students as well as staff. Reports indicated that women and girls who worked at or went to the same school were targeted, and the disappearance of the third girl had finally triggered their involvement. So, the team had gathered around the conference room, exchanging theories and discussing possible suspects and motives. JJ was currently pinning the pictures of the three missing girls and women to the whiteboard, while Spencer wrote some of the keywords they’d gathered for each underneath them. Rossi was looking at the folder containing information about possible suspects while Prentiss went through a list of former and current teaching staff. Derek was going through the list and pictures of the entire student body, trying to suss out if one of them could be responsible and who could possibly be the next victim.

„Hey Bossman, found a picture of your mini-me. You sure that you don’t have a kid? The resemblance is kinda uncanny, she’s got the Hotchner-Stare“, he suddenly spoke up, gaze fixed on one of the pictures of a young girl.

Hotch furrowed his brow at the ridiculous statement but accepted the picture, obviously taken from a yearbook, nonetheless. The rest of the team curiously gathered around him to catch a glimpse. He had to admit that the girl had a certain familiarity about her. He couldn’t quite place it, but he could see what Derek meant. If he didn’t know better, if he were a stranger looking at the picture, he might have come to the same conclusion. As it was, he pushed the photo back towards Morgan with a slight shake of his head.

„Concentrate. We want to get the UNSUB before there’s a fourth victim.“

Derek just shrugged and continued his search through the list while the rest of the team went back to their respective tasks as well.

„He’s right though, the resemblance is uncanny“, Rossi commented absentmindedly. Hotch just cleared his throat and pointedly looked at the folder laying in front of Dave.

In the end, the search through the mountain of documents didn’t bring any new knowledge, nor did it give them a lead. There was just one single thing that stood out to them, and that was the school itself as the connection between all of the victims. With nothing else to investigate, the team decided to make their way to the school to gather information first hand and to speak to the students and the staff.

It was a slow process. The number of kids they had to talk with was ridiculously high, and the teaching staff wasn’t very forthcoming either. The team had only gotten two unused classrooms for the interviews, so the pace they were going at was infuriatingly slow to all of them. They all knew how crucial the timing was, that a single hour could make a difference between life and death. Quite literally, in this case. Hotch could see the frustration on his teams face as the teaching staff didn’t give them the required information under the pretence of data security. He could see how Derek physically restrained himself from yelling, how Emily was close to losing her patience or how Spencer’s gaze flickered to the clock above the door every other minute, the nervous tapping against his leg getting more pronounced as time went on.

"We're done with interviews," Hotch announced suddenly to the startled looks of his team as well as the deputy headmistress they were currently in the middle of questioning.

"This obviously leads us nowhere. The staff won't cooperate, the number of students is simply too high. We're wasting time. Time the victims don't have."

He could see Rossi nodding approvingly and hear JJ's relieved sigh.

"We're going to divide ourselves. Emily and Derek, JJ and Rossi. Reid, you're with me. We're going to attend classes. Go in, spend a few minutes in the back of the room, and see if you can spot anything suspicious or noteworthy. If someone catches your eye, either question them immediately or write down their names for later. We're going to meet up here at lunch and see what we've got then."

The team nodded, and the pairs hastily left the stuffy classroom, coordinating which team would visit which classes as they went. It took Hotch five interrupted lessons until his eye caught something noteworthy. It was the girl Derek had pointed out over her resemblance to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Spencer watching her, too. He watched how she leaned towards the boy sitting beside her, the way her eyebrows furrowed the exact same way his own did when he questioned something. Her face mostly serious, except for a slight quirk of her lips. Hotch shook his head and forced himself to survey the rest of the class. He didn't notice anything suspicious and, after a few minutes, exchanged a small nod with Reid, both moving to leave the room again.

"The resemblance was already uncanny in the picture that Derek had earlier. But seeing her mannerisms, she really is the female version of you. Biologically speaking, that is almost impossible considering she's not related to you. The likelihood of such a close resemblance in appearance and behaviour of two people worldwide is roughly 1%." Spencer immediately launched into a fascinated rant about genetics and statistics, but Hotch didn't really pay attention. His mind still preoccupied by the girl, Y/N, herself.

☆☆☆☆

It took them almost until noon before they’d checked in on all classes, made a list of everything that had been noteworthy or suspicious, and discussed it all. Going by the similarities of the victims, they were able to make out three students who might be the perpetrators' next targets. After another hour of discussion and theorising within the team, they were nearly a hundred per cent sure that Charlotte Jones was the most likely target of them. Emily was tasked to keep an eye on her and to get some more information, while Spencer and Derek started to interview the list of students and teachers, who had appeared to be suspicious. Rossi and JJ were tasked with taking another look around the school, while Hotch would wait for the information gathered by Prentiss. It only took her around 20 minutes before he received a list of names consisting of friends and acquaintances that were worth questioning.

He tasked one of the teaching stuff with collecting the required people while settling in the second classroom. The first six friends of Charlotte had no insights to offer, and while it wasn’t their fault, Hotch felt like banging his head on the table. Taking a deep breath, he called out for the next person to enter the room.

The door opened, and a girl took a few steps into the room. Hotch immediately realised it was Y/N. Her eyes met his, and her mouth opened slightly in astonishment and surprise. It was barely noticeable, and Hotch would have missed it if he didn't have the same habit.

"Please take a seat," he said gently while motioning towards the chair opposite of him. Her expression turned neutral again as she moved closer and did as asked.

"If you'd please state your full name for the protocol."

"Y/N Bennett," she softly answered. "Why am I being questioned?"

Hotch leaned back into his chair, ignoring the feeling of recognition at her last name for now, and gifted her with a rare smile to reassure her.

"I'm Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. I work with the Behavioural Analysis Unit at the FBI. We're here because in the past two weeks, three girls and women have gone missing. Two of which were later found dead. We've been informed by some of the students that you are good friends with Charlotte Jones?"

Y/N's eyebrows furrowed again, her brown eyes meeting his without hesitation.

"Charlotte and I have known each other for years. We went to Little League together and have been friends ever since. But what does she have to do with this? She's one of the kindest people I know. She'd never hurt anyone."

"We think that she is the perpetrators next target. We already spoke with her and one of my colleagues is currently with her to make sure that she is safe", her shoulders, which had tensed at his explanation, relaxed a little with the knowledge that her friend was taken care of. "Did you, by any chance, know any of the first three victims?", he asked while presenting her with three pictures.

She leaned forward, giving the photographs a closer look before pointing at the first and last one. "Mrs. Williams worked in the school library in the afternoons, I didn't know her very well, though. And Amy had just transferred schools after her parents had to move states because of work." When she leaned back into her own chair, eerily mirroring Hotch's own pose, she narrowed her eyes again.

"They're dead?", she asked softly. The question took him aback, having expected the news to have reached the student body.

"You didn't know?" Her eyes drifted to the pictures again, shoulders slightly hunching in on herself, sadness now predominant in her face.

"No", she whispered. "Mrs. Davis, the headmistress, informed us at the last student meeting that Mrs. Williams was taking time off because of a family emergency and that Amy had had the opportunity to participate in an international sports competition. No one knew."

"I am sorry", Hotch gently said while his brain was working through all possible scenarios as to why the headmistress might have lied to staff and students - it would explain why no one was able to give them any information though. "If I'd know that you hadn't been aware, I wouldn't have sprung it onto you like that."

The corner of her lips quirked slightly as she assured him that it was alright.

"We were looking for a connection between all of the victims, and it seems you just might have pointed us in the right direction."

He gratefully dismissed her and called for the team to join him in the room, waiting until they'd all settled down.

"Did your mini-me have something interesting for us?", Derek smirked at him.

"She did. Apparently, Mrs. Davis never told anyone about the deaths of the victims. She made up excuses like family emergencies or sports competitions as the reason why people were missing." He could see the second his team understood the implications of what he'd said.

"She had a connection to all three victims as well as our suspected next targets," JJ muttered.

"And she's in the perfect position to hide what's going on. I'm sure she told the staff not to give out the information we required. And no one would question the reasons for the victims' absences when they are explained by the headmistress herself." Emily continued slowly.

☆☆☆☆☆

As the team left the room, determination and purpose filling their movements, Hotch called Rossi to stay back for a second.

"Will you be able to handle the arrest without me?", Hotch asked quietly.

Dave mustered him for a moment, his gaze piercing before his face split into a mischievous grin: "I guess you have some private matter to discuss with the mother of our lovely Y/N?"

Hotch blanched at his words, which just made Dave laugh at his reaction.

"We're not blind, Aaron. The resemblance is uncanny, too uncanny. And it's not just her looks. It's the way she carries herself and interacts with others. She's literally a female version of you. And you've been preoccupied ever since you spoke with her for the interview. I guess you recognised her last name?"

He just nodded and sighed: "Yes. Chloe and I had been a couple for nearly four years when we both received job offers at the opposite ends of the country. LA and Washington don't mix too well, but neither of us wanted to decline. We found that we both wanted different things in life and decided to split up on friendly terms. She never told me she was pregnant, and I'd like to believe that she would have since we stayed in contact for some time. I just - I want to know if she's mine."

Dave nodded, his warm hand squeezing his shoulder reassuringly while meeting his eyes.

"I think you already know the answer. Go and talk to her. We can handle Mrs. Davis. We'll meet you here afterwards, alright?"

☆☆☆☆☆

He felt a bit like an asshole when he once again tasked one of the teaching staff to please collect one of the students. He paced up and down the classroom while he waited, nervously wringing his hands. He had no idea how to approach this matter. He never expected this to happen. How the hell was he going to explain this situation? When he turned around again, he stopped dead in his tracks. At the other end of the room stood Y/N.

Hotch couldn't tear his gaze away from her. His heart swelled with a mixture of joy and sorrow, realizing the years he had missed with his daughter while simultaneously being so grateful to get a chance to experience a connection he never thought he would. He felt an overwhelming need to bridge the gap between them, to make up for lost time, but he knew that he couldn’t just spring this onto her. Chloe hadn’t been very forthcoming in their conversation, she’d just confirmed that Y/N was indeed his and that after their breakup, when she hadn’t yet known that she was pregnant, she didn’t want to tie him down with a child. She didn’t react to his own argument that he’d had a right to know that he had a child, nor did she answer him when he asked what she’d told Y/N about her father. Their talk had barely lasted five minutes, on the front porch of the little house Chloe and Y/N lived in since she’d refused him entrance as soon as she’d recognised him.

Now, being back at the school, standing in the stuffy classroom again, for once in his life, he didn’t know how to approach the subject. Rossi, with his usually perceptive ways, had instantly recognised his facial expression as he’d come back, ushering the rest of the team out to get a late lunch after their successful arrest of Mrs. Davis. Y/N had arrived just as his colleagues left, now standing opposite him with her arms crossed over her chest and unrelentingly staring at him across the room.

Before he had a chance to say anything, she took a step towards him, her face set into a stony, neutral expression: “So, are you going to tell me why you just left mom and me to fend for ourselves?”

For the first time in a long time, Hotch wasn’t sure how to respond or react. He opened his mouth just to close it again.

“You didn’t think I wouldn’t notice, did you? I’m not that stupid. We look almost exactly the same. How big is the likelihood of that? And when I called mom earlier, she confirmed it. So, have you got anything to say or not?” She gave him approximately three seconds to respond before she turned around and moved back towards the door.

Seeing her reach for the door handle spurred his brain back into gear, realising that this most likely was his only chance to make this right and that Chloe apparently hadn’t talked about him very favourably.

“Y/N, wait, please. Let me explain”, his voice came out gentle and quieter than he had intended it to. It made her pause, though, which he counted as a slight win. She turned back towards him, shoulders tense and face still carefully neutral.

“Alright. I don’t really feel like it, but you’ve got 5 minutes, Agent Hotchner.”

He couldn’t completely hide his wince at her choice of address but nodded in acceptance. Hotch took a moment to collect his thoughts, trying to decide how to start his explanation.

“You did notice correctly. And I know that you’re probably less than inclined to believe me right now, but I can assure you that it was as much of a surprise for me as it was for you”, he decided to ignore her unbelieving snort in favour of continuing with his explanation. “Your mother and I were a couple around 17 years ago. We had been together for almost four years, getting to know each other at school and then going on to study at the same university. We’d both graduated at the same time and had plans to move in together when we both received promising job offers. Chloe had a chance at getting her dream job in LA while I had a very promising offer in Washington. We sat down together to talk about it and found that neither of us was willing to decline their offer and that our general ideas for the future differed quite a lot. So, in the end, we decided that we should split up on amicable terms rather than wait until our relationship fell apart. I didn’t know your mother was pregnant and, when I spoke to her earlier, she told me that she hadn’t known either at the time.”

He kept his voice purposefully soft, paying attention to not letting the frustration at her mother bleed through.

“That’s not what I’ve heard”, was the only thing she said. He couldn’t make out any emotion on her face, which frustrated him to no end. He distantly wondered if his colleagues ever felt the same towards him. He felt helpless. He could do no more than try and explain the situation. He was aware that it sounded unlikely and ridiculous, especially if she’s been told something else entirely her entire life. Yet he wanted to be part of her life so badly. He’d already missed so many years. She was 16 years old, after all, nearly a grown woman already. And he felt slightly sick when he thought about all the things, all the first times in her life he had unwittingly missed. Yet, without really knowing her, he felt undeniably proud of the person she’d become. Throughout the day, from what the team was able to observe, she was quite intelligent, polite, kind, and gladly helped other’s out or stood up for them when they couldn’t do it themselves.

Maybe it was something about the expression on his face, but her stance softened just the tiniest bit. A sigh escaped her lips.

“I don’t know if you’re telling the truth. I don’t know a lot of things right now. To be honest, I feel way out of my depth. I never thought I’d find out who my father was. I think I need some time to sort through all of this”, he noticed that she also kept her tone of voice carefully neutral.

Hotch nodded in understanding. It would have been naive and foolish to think that she’d instantly accept everything she’d just learned today. Not only had she found out that two people she knew had been killed by a person, who was supposed to keep her and the rest of the students and staff safe, and that one of her closest friend had nearly turned out to be the next victim. She also, surprisingly and without any warning, had come face to face with a father she’d never expected to meet as well as having to sort through two entirely different stories of what had happened. The very foundation of her life had been shaken up within a day. A place where she should have felt safe no longer did. Her understanding of her family and origin suddenly changed.

“I understand”, Hotch acknowledged gently. “I didn’t expect anything else. I wrote down my private number on one of my business cards. If you feel like you’ve worked through everything and want to stay in contact, you can call at any time.”

She slowly took the card he held out and carefully tucked it into her pocket, which Hotch counted as a positive sign. He hesitated for a second, not sure if he should say any more, but came to the conclusion that it couldn’t get much worse.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions for your mother and for me as well. And I’m also sure that you might not want to hear this, but I wish I’d found out sooner that I have a daughter. I would have loved to be a part of your life before now. But I plan on being a part of your life for as long as you’ll have me. I will not force you to. If you decide that you never want to see me again, I will accept it. I don’t want to make your life any more difficult than it already is. But if you want me in your life, I’ll be there.”

Her brown eyes bored into his for a long moment before she simply nodded and left the room. Hotch continued to stand in the stuffy, bare classroom for quite some time. He knew that he couldn’t do much. He didn’t have the right to force himself into her life if she didn’t want him there. He would respect her decision. Even if it might break his heart. Because even if he’d only known her for barely a day, his heart was so full of his daughter, a daughter he didn’t knew he had, that he felt like it might burst any second.

☆☆☆☆

It was about a week later that Hotch was surprised by a knock on his front door on his day off. He had expected a lot of people on the other side of the door - maybe a salesperson or someone collecting for charity, some religious group, or a boy scout trying to sell cookies. He hadn’t however expected to come face to face with a very nervous looking Y/N. For a second, they just stared at each other before he suddenly found himself stumbling back a few steps as her smaller body barrelled into his, her arms wrapping around his waist.

Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her back, hugging her close to his body. He felt how her shoulders shook underneath his hands and heard her sobs that were muffled against his shoulder. One of his hands came up to cup the back of her head, whispering soft words of comfort against her hair while his chin came to rest against her temple. He carefully moved them into the house and towards the living room, settling them down on the sofa. The hand on her back rubbed comforting circles into her skin, gently trying to calm her down enough to understand what was going on.

„Hush, sweetheart. Can you take a deep breath in with me? Very good. And now slowly breathe out alongside me. Just like that. And again…. You’re doing good, Y/N. I’m here. It’s going to be alright.“

With every deep breath and every muttered reassurance, she calmed down a little more until her breathing was almost back to normal. He continued to hug her close to his body, not wanting to be the first one to let go when she so obviously needed the support. It took her a few minutes before she slowly moved away from him, a bashful, almost embarrassed expression on her face.

He felt a deep-seated need to make her feel better, so he unthinkingly handed her his handkerchief. Y/N took it with a small quirk of her lips, cleaning her face and blowing her nose.

„You know that no one under 50 uses those, right?“, it was a very obvious attempt at lightening up the mood, but he gladly played along.

„People have found more creative ways to call me old, you know?“

She chuckled weakly, carefully placing the handkerchief on the coffee table before turning towards him again.

„I am sorry for just appearing here without calling first. It was just- I-“, she nervously picked at her clothes.

„I don’t mind, Y/N. You’re welcome here at any time. However you found out where I live…“

„I might have tried at the BAU first where your colleague helped me out. The Italian one. Agent Rossi, I think? He was really nice, gave me some of his Cannoli“, she smiles sheepishly.

„Definitely Agent Rossi“, he confirmed with a smile. „Though he usually doesn’t share his baked goods with anyone. He’s very protective over them.“

He mustered her for a moment before he sat up and leaned towards her.

„I am glad to see you. And as I said, you are welcome here any time. I won’t lie and say that I expected it, though. I expected you to call at some point. What happened?“

„The perceptivenesse comes with the job at the BAU, huh?“, she tried to deflect his question.

„I’d rather think that most people would come to the same conclusion if someone turns up at their doorstep crying“, he gently said, reaching our to squeeze her hand.

Y/N sighed softly and nodded in acknowledgement.

„I guess I owe you an explanation, huh?“

„You don’t owe me anything, Y/N. But I think you might feel better if you tell me what’s been going on.“

„Alright. I talked to Mom about everything, and at first, she stayed with the story she’s always told me. You know, that one day you just left us and that was it. But I thought about what you said to me, and she never elaborated on anything, and that felt a little weird. So, I sat her down and told her I wanted to know the truth. And-“, she stopped herself to take a deep breath, Hotch gently squeezing her hand in reassurance. „She finally told me that what you’d said was true. That you’d split, and she just never told you and I- I was just so angry at her for taking that experience away from me. For lying to me every time I’d asked, especially when I was still little and having a dad was all I’ve ever wanted. And she just shrugged like it was no big deal. And she didn’t even have a reason because it’s not like you treated her terribly or you separated on bad terms. And I couldn’t look at her anymore, and I may have Googled the BAU and just left, and then your colleague found me, and now I’m here.“

The last part of her explanation was said without her taking a single breath, and he could watch how her eyes glazed over with tears again and her lips pressed together in an effort to hold her emotions back. Hotch could only imagine how she felt with the entire situation. God knew he had been overwhelmed by it himself, and he was the adult who should know how to deal with it. But seeing her sitting there, trying to hide her emotions, broke him a little. So he did the only thing he could think of and pulled her back into his arms.

He could understand what she meant, just the tiniest bit. In never telling him that he had a daughter, Chloe had taken the experience of seeing his child grow up from him. He couldn’t watch her become the person she was today, couldn’t help her on the way, or give her little nudges in the right direction. He never held his little girl after a nightmare or celebrated a win at Little League with her, nor had he been able to teach her how to ride a bike or drive a car or make pancakes the way his grandmother had made them. Y/N, however, had been missing a part of her family history. A part of her understanding of where she was coming from. And from what she’d said, she apparently didn’t have anyone else filling in as a father figure in her life.

„It’s going to be alright, Y/N. I know that we both can’t get back the years that we’ve missed. But we can use all the time that we have left to get to know each other and build a relationship“, he gently carded his hand through her hair. „I’m 100% in as long as you want me in your life. And you are more than welcome to stay here with me for a while if you don’t want to face your Mom for a while. But I should call her and tell her you're safe so she doesn’t worry and knows where you are. And, as much as you might dread it right now, at one point, we should all sit down together and talk through the situation at hand.“

And that’s what he did. As soon as she’d felt a bit better, he’d called Chloe and let her know that Y/N was with him. She’d put up no resistance when he’d told her that she’d be staying with him for a few days to work through everything and that they should meet up to talk everything through.

He and Y/N spent the next few days getting to know each other. He leaned that she was planning on studying psychology and wanted to become a therapist, that she loved reading love poems but absolutely hated romance novels, loved strawberries but was allergic to them, that all her plants died all the time and that she loved crows. Hotch shared his grandmother’s pancake receipt with her, told her about his time before the BAU and why he decided to change jobs, talked a little about his team and what they did, shared his love for 80's music with her as well as his love for really badly written crime novels, where one knew from the beginning who the perpetrator was, and his very well hidden sweet tooth.

As days turned into weeks and months, the team welcomed the young girl with open arms as well. Even though she moved back to her mom’s house after they’d all talked, because she wanted to finish school there, she spent a lot of her weekends and free time either at Hotch’s or the BAU. With her interest in psychology, their work was fascinating to her. She quickly formed a unique bond with the team as well. Rossi, the fun uncle, who shared his food with her but no one else (though Y/N regularly sneaked Hotch some of Rossi’s baked goods after she learned of his fondness for sweet things). Emily turned into a bad-ass big sister who taught her some neat self-defense tricks and was eternally greatfull for Y/N’s help when it came to technology. Garcia and JJ, who regularly took her out for film nights or/and shopping sprees. Derek turned into a protective big brother, who had helped her and Hotch to modify her room at Hotch’s into her dream room with his skills as a carpenter. Spencer and her were often seen deep in discussion about some intellectual or psychological matter or bickering over a TV show. The prank war between them, that had started because they both had a different opinion on who the best Doctor was, was still regularly talked about by everyone in the BAU.

They all formed a special bond, one built on shared experiences, laughter, and understanding. Hotch and Y/N made every effort to make up for the lost years with shared love, support, and guidance.

The BAU became a second family to Y/N, offering a support system she had never known (and was more than practical when it came to her chosen career path). Within them, she found solace and strength. Hotch and Y/N both revelled in the small moments they shared, cherishing their newfound father-daughter relationship and having found a place in each other’s lives.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #cm #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #bau x reader #bau team x reader

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9w1ft · 1 year ago

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sometimes i catch myself thinking about how in recent years more people broadcast that being a gaylor is “just about thinking taylor is fruity. it doesn’t mean you think her relationships with men are fake” and how this sort of wording works to push the idea that the act of faking a relationship is inherently bad, instead of the issue being that society and its institutions have historically stigmatized queer relationships, requiring many public figures to maintain public personas for their own safety and success.

sure, lowering the hurdle for accepting taylor’s queerness so that a broader range of fans can feel comfortable thinking about taylor’s work in this way has some amount of value. but i find myself thinking about what’s getting lost in the process.

it’s almost like this next generation is denying the history of the queer experience, in a way. this history of bearding has been documented contemporarily in so many ways. memoirs, documentaries, tv specials, interviews… it’s also a fairly common media trope? but somehow talking about bearding to swifties or as gaylors is… peddling in conspiracy theories? like.. no! with bearding you’re just interpreting taylor’s art through several intersecting perspectives, and putting it in a historical context.

like.. why can’t it just be that taylor has dated women privately and involved men publicly in order to play the fame game? and these men don’t have to be one of two polarized things. that sometimes they can just.. be a part of her journey? afford her some peace of mind? idk? why can’t this sort of lane exist as an entry point to gaylorism? the whole energy around it always feels like self sabotage and it bums me out 😆

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marimayscarlett · 7 months ago

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I seem to be haunted a bit by bad luck on here - prepared an answer for an ask yesterday, but instead of posting it, Tumblr swallowed the ask and it's nowhere to be found. Since I always type my answers in a Word document, I still have it and answer it in a proper post. The ask was signed with "RZK obsessor", so if that's you, here's your answer to your ask 🔎 which was something along the lines of:

Anon: Can you confirm the existence of RZK?

Hi 👋

Now ☝ Getting to the bottom of this kind of fundamental question does require a bit of a planned approach and care. So, at the start of the research process, one should ask which approach and research path to take when tackling this question: the philosophical route, the one of scientific research, or perhaps one's own wealth of experience? I’d say, let’s just go with all three.

Philosophical thoughts on the existence of our beloved Richard

From a philosophical standpoint, one must first ask - are we dealing with Richard as a tangible, real entity, or is this a collection of idealized versions of fundamental concepts? Wishful and idealistic projections designed to show just how diverse a single individual can be? Included in this are the epitome of confident presence on stage:

the audaciously good looks in every kind of stage outfit, be it leather, dramatic coats, feathers or questionable sleeves (wet or not):

and the efortless serving of rock star attitude, no matter how tight the clothing:

as well as exuding the most cozy vibes in rather eyebrow-raise-inducing attire:

Richard embodies so many concepts in one person that it’s hard to believe such traits can coexist in a single individual - perhaps Richard is Schrödinger's guitarist? Simultaneously existing and not existing, until you see him live and promptly lose all sense of composure...

2. Scientific research and evaluation of existing data on the topic of the existence of Richard

Like any good scientist, one must disclose the sources used and where one has gained knowledge and insights in order to report on their research in a credible manner.

To get to the bottom of the question of Richard’s existence, I have spent nearly the last 10 years meticulously studying every music video and their corresponding making ofs to the point where I can recite every line by heart (even the ones that make me want to sink into the ground out of secondhand embarrassment - "so ein Gesäuge", I’m looking at you). I went to the cinema three times to analyze Richard's presence on the big screen, absorbed recordings of live performances to examine and cross-reference his alluring movements on stage, and created a seven-page long table in Word to organize his interviews by date and topic, tracking his statements and quotes - I mean, quotes like the following have to be proof that this man exist, who else could express things like that so calmly, right?:

Every fur frog tastes different. Pure question of taste. There is no judgment in the text. We’re not saying it stinks.

I believe the music itself must be the king, but I want to be the queen.

The result of this research so far: Things are looking pretty good that Richard actually exists! But I understand what you mean - sometimes it’s hard to believe that this person truly walks, no, struts among us on this earth.

That’s why I had no choice this year but to take my research to the active side of things. Which brings us to:

3. The fan experience as a way to proof his existence once and for all - with my own two eyes

Even though we have countless recordings at concerts of him, from the 90's:

to the 2000s:

all the way into the 2010's:

to today:

it’s still hard to truly grasp that he exists in flesh and blood. Even I sometimes catch myself looking at pictures of him and thinking, “Wow… he actually exists! He’s real!”, fascinated anew every single time.

This year, as part of my research, I was fortunate enough to practice my research in the Feuerzone three times, and I must say: the moment Richard stepped onto the stage, I was often left speechless. He has an incredibly majestic presence, very focused and fully immersed in his role as the serious rock star - with moments of warmth (towards his band mates) and small glimpses into his thoughts (the annoyed look he gave in Dresden when he forgot his pyro arm for DRSG was so expressive; he rolled his eyes so hard, he surely could see into his brain). I was utterly captivated and thoroughly enjoyed watching him play and use iconic gestures (like during Du hast 👆☝✋👉), and to witness his presence and mannerism live on stage really was a highlight for me. Here's some of my research footage (grainy and shaky, and please be aware of me screaming, but all in the name of science):

After this intense period of dedicated research, I can confidently say: You don't confirm Richard's existence - you witness and experience it 😌

#rammstein #richard kruspe #ask #well. somehow #idk tumblr and i are currently not the best of friends #first rude anons now deleting asks. oh well #research & rammsplaining #interviews & quotes #thirsting corner

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rangersveppir · 3 months ago

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A history of Ranger Capture Stylers (from the view of the various models)

Howdy! This is a post I have been meaning to make for a while, this is essentially a list of every (publicly known) Capture Styler, not all of these will have photos but I have done by best none the less. Now first as many people know Hastings was originally going to call the device we know as a Styler "The Capture Loopy-Looper" and this is where some weird naming nonsense comes into play. So the first ever "Styler" was the Proto-Styler.

Proto-Styler.

Or as it is labeled the S.T.Y.L.E.R. (Spin-Tuned Yoked Link for Emotional Regulation), this was the first ever styler, its a bulky machine about the old style Poke-Center healers they used in Kalos, or for a less specific example about the size of two Metagross staked ontop one another. This big ol' boy had a small screen and a keyboard used to direct the Capture Disc. The capture disk for this original was about a foot across and weighed about 10 lbs. The machine itself required a constant power supply to run and was basically stationary so it wasn't very useful. Not to mention you had to do the calculations for how far the disc had to move yourself before typing in those numbers in on the keypad. It gets its mention here for being the first device to do basically what the modern Styler does today. Now onto the weird naming, so the Ranger Union and Hastings himself refer to this device as either a "Proto-styler" "The Prototype Styler" or "The Looper" however Hastings' documentation and patents call it the acronym I listed at the start of this section. From what I was able to find by looking through old interviews with Hastings it looks like the "The Capture Loopy-Looper" name was played around with because he feared the S.T.Y.L.E.R. acronym would be too weird for most people to understand and it wasn't until he noticed that his assistants were calling the new portable model they were working on a "Styler" to avoid saying the long official name did he decide to change it to the "Capture Styler" we know today.

Styler MK. 1

This is the first version of the Capture Styler and the first one I ever used, when I joined the rangers these guys were in their prime so its what I am most comfortable with even if that is kind of crazy. So the MK. 1 has a hand held section that's similar in design to the the fine styler but has an antenna like the MK 2 with the MK 1's antenna being about as long as the device itself. You hold it like you would hold a TV remote and make gestures to guide the Capture disk, the disk itself is released from a launcher on the bottom end of the handheld. The handheld is connected by a wire to a large battery pack. The larger ones could be worn as backpacks with the smaller ones hanging from your hip. These bad boys had enough power to keep the Styler charged for a whole three capture (six with the backpack sized pack). And if the disk was hit by a pokemon that would essentially knock you down a capture. It was not the best but it did its job, though I will never be as fit as I was back then lugging a 40 lbs. Battery pack to base so I could swap it out with a fresh one and continue work after capturing a beedrill. The one upside of the MK. 1 is the capture effect tended to be much stronger than with the modern stylers, as such if a capture with a MK. 1 would take 3 loops it might take a modern Styler 7 or 8 loops. But for most people that doesn't make up for the downsides, it cant use Pokemon Assist, it cannot be charged using pokemon and power cable on the handheld is damaged or severed its down for the count. The disks themselves were rather large not as big as those for "The Looper" but they still weighed a whole 3 lbs. and really hurt if you didn't seat them properly into the launcher, I am getting phantom toe pain just thinking about it.

Styler MK. 2 The second version of the Styler was a massive upgrade, it first introduced an internal battery, the disk was more durable so instead of losing a third of your charge from any contact the disk itself loses charge, pokemon can now recharge the styler.

The MK. 2 is one of those stylers most people think of when the imagine a pokemon ranger the hand-held device with the top and the pointing. It is the first Styler to be able to use Pokemon Assists. Styler MK. 3

Now we get to the not-so-fun part of this history, now if you look at the MK. 2 you will notice they were manufactured by "Mill Bros. Electronics" who used to be a large electronics manufacturing company in the Fiore region, though they had factories in many places. For the MK. 2 they had been hired to mass produce the stylers, and they were also tasked with the same for the MK. 3 however by this time Mill bros. was doing pretty poorly, they had just lost their factory in Fall City, which was one of their largest and had also lost contracts with a few other companies they had been producing products for, so with money tight they decided to cut some corners, specifically with the battery, the batteries planned for the MK 3 were heavy duty numbers designed to take a beating and handle electric type attacks like a champ, instead Mill Bros. used a weaker and cheaper battery and hoped no-one would notice, and probably they would have gotten away with it, except these batteries had a tendency to explode rather violently often injuring the rangers using them with nearly 300 injuries related to it in the first year (most were minor, just mild burns, others not so much) needless to say Mill Bros. does not exist anymore and the ranger union has their own manufacturing company now. As for the MK. 3 Itself it looks like a MK. 4 (what most people associate with a student styler) just slightly larger, with a longer handle, the handle was deigned to stick out of the hip-holster designed for it, so it could be pulled out at a moment's notice. You can tell a MK. 3 from a MK. 3.5 or 4 by looking for the Mill Bros. logo on the bottom of the device near the charging port (there will also be the model number MB30141). If you find you have been issued a MK. 3 or fine one in like a drawer or something you can turn it in to the ranger union for ₽2500, or 1 years worth of credit at the Ranger Union HQ cafeteria. Styler MK. 3.5 A rapid follow up to disaster of the MK 3. was the 3. 5 they look almost identical to the MK 3 but use a smaller more stable batter and tend to be slighter smaller over all. Not much to say it is just the MK 3 but does not explode.

Styler MK. 4

This is the styler most rangers reading this have use or have used, if you have been to any ranger academy you have used a modified MK. 4

Small compact with the disc being released from the yellow launcher seen on the head of the device. These guys are still in wide use today and are designed to be semi-disposable, if it is damaged just turn it back in for repair or replacement.

Fine Styler (MK. 5)

The Fine Styler aka the MK. 5 is a more powerful version of the MK. 4. It is strapped to the wrist instead of held in the hand and require a lot more training to use.

Super Styler (MK. 5.?)

Not much is known about this one so I wont be covering it, but I know if I did not list it I would have to deal with the tsunami of people saying I forgot it.

Styler MK. 7

The most recently released styler, its designed to be worn on the wrist similar to a watch and is similar in power and features to the Fine Styler in a much smaller package. It also has a built in AI that can help keep the ranger informed. These came out last year and I have yet to see one in person so I can say too much on how effective they are but the Union seems proud of them.

So yeah, thats all the publicly available styler models, for those interested I use a modified MK 1. (the union let me keep it after I retired, an antique for an antique I guess haha) I modified it to use a MK 2. Capture Disk so its a lot more useful. It's not winning any awards for looks though.

Anyway hope I was able to teach you something, stay safe out there.

#pokemon irl #pkmn irl #pokeblogging #rotomblr #pokemon #rotumblr #pokemon ranger #pokeblog rp #pokeblr #pokemon unreality #pokemon ranger fanfic

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