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thosewickedlovelies · 3 months ago

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A guide to writing fics set in museums / with a museum worker character

Hey hi hello it’s your local museum worker here, offering you some insight and tips to writing museum-related fics! This is primarily organized as a list of different jobs you could have in a museum and what their duties entail. This post might also be useful to you if you’re considering working in museums and want to know What Goes On In There. Let’s go!

For simplicity/fic-writing purposes, I would divide museums into 2 very rough groups: large national or city museums that Have Money (think the Smithsonian or British Museums, or the Chicago Field Museum or the Royal Armouries Museum in Leeds); and smaller local museums. These could be local industry and culture/history-of-our town museums, historic houses, or really niche subject museums run by One Person With A Passion.

Big national museums have a fuckton of staff and money (museums can never have enough money. But these places are very well-off compared to somewhere small that might always be hustling and writing grant applications). If you work here you’re likely to have a specific role in a particular department, and you probably won’t do much outside this role (ex., if you work in collections management, you probably won’t also design exhibits)

The smaller the museum, the more varied your workload will be/the more likely you are to be doing a little bit of everything. You’re probably organizing collections storage, manning the front desk, and desperately running fundraising efforts, all at once.

To this end, smaller museums are more likely to be closed one or two days a week- you’ll be there, probably cleaning displays or managing storage, but visitors won’t be.

A lot of (most?) universities also have museums, so a college town setting is also doable. But the same big vs small museum disparity is still possible! At Penn State University, for example, the Palmer Art Museum is its own (recently redone iirc) building in the center of campus with a lovely plaza out front, while the Matson Museum of Anthropology is uhhhhh a couple classrooms in the Anthropology Department (which they’re currently rebuilding tbf, so we’ll see what they’ve done with it in 2025).

Types of Jobs

Curator

The one museum job that everyone can name. Nominally the person in charge. Probably laments that their job is way more admin than fun hands-on stuff now.

Actually this is the role I have the least knowledge of, but I think that’s partially because this job might vary the most from place to place? Structural organization can vary a lot between institutions, but I think the higher up you get in any field, the more your job tends to consist of meetings/overseeing, designating, and ~liaising~

A list of things a curator might do:

Planning or approving events and fundraisers, schmoozing with donors and members at said events, approving or designing a schedule of exhibits, publish outreach/advertising or research materials, oversee hiring, approve new object acquisitions (or de-acquisitions), generally make sure that the museum is working within the scope of its mission and if necessary, change or refine their mission

The curator might not necessarily control a museum’s funds; in this case they’ll liaise with the people who do, likely a Board of Executives or Board of Trustees. Once they get the money from these people, though, they could potentially redistribute it as they see fit.

If you work in a fuckoff museum like the BM, you could also be the curator of a specific department, arranged by overarching subject, geographic area, time period, or even object type (eg Curator of Archaeobotany, Curator of Korean Collections, curator of coins from the medieval period). These categories can be more or less specific depending on what kind of holdings your museum has. I think these types of curators would still be able to do interesting things, as they aren’t the ones who Oversee The Whole Place.

You can also be an assistant or associate curator, like being an assistant manager.

Education/Engagement

These are the people who design fun extra activities (esp for kids) in the galleries or relevant events/workshops/lectures the public can attend. They might be called Engagement/Education Officer or Events Manager or anything similar

Again, the bigger the museum you work at, the more specific your role is likely to be. You might focus on web content/outreach and social media, manage the ‘friends/members of the museum’ program, or engage with shareholders, etc

Or you might do things like develop content and events to engage adult audiences. Workshops or lectures connected to new exhibits, after-hours visits. These people are also probably the ones with an eye on accessibility- you’ve probably seen advertisements for museums’ early or late hours for older visitors, or ‘quiet hours’ for people who might be overstimulated by normal museum hubbub, or tactile workshops designed for visually impaired folks.

I think most places would try to have someone specific for kids activities at the very least. They’ll be designing little activities or dress-up stations for the galleries, kiddie mascots or scavenger hunt trail kind of things, as well as, potentially, activities for any digital elements in the museum. They probably also coordinate school visits and act as a tour guide for classes, and will lead the kids in specific workshops or lessons in classrooms attached to the museum.

As a note on technology- some people would probably say that integrating digital elements into exhibits is the ~next big thing~, that museums have to get with the times in this regard, but opinions vary. Big science and technology museums are the most likely to have the most digital and techy elements in their exhibits, so if this is your setting, your character could also be a generic “tech person”. I would go so far as to say the smaller/more local the museum, the less technology you’re likely to have, but smaller museums are able to get grants, some of them potentially for specifically this type of thing, so it’s totally possibly that they have a few tablets with integrated activities, or some other Digital/Screen Thing.

Engagement Officers are probably the most likely people to be drafted for out-of-hours events, so that’s a potentially fun thing for your character to do. Some museums, particularly bigger ones, have event spaces attached that anybody can rent out, for weddings, galas, markets, etc, so they might also take care of these bookings as well.

Exhibit Design

This role has a lot of nebulous terms: exhibit coordinator, design constructor, exhibit programmer- but these are the people who design the exhibits. They’ll come up with a theme or narrative, a design scheme, choose the objects, write the text. They’ll probably come up with some marketing material as well, that matches the design scheme, or they’ll liaise with the marketing people who will.

These people might not be as familiar with the collections as the collections management folk (below), depending on how strictly divided your roles are, so they’ll likely consult with the collections people on choosing objects for a particular exhibit or theme (they say that good exhibit design builds an exhibit from the objects up, but I digress).

These people will also direct and participate in the install and deinstall (the actual terms) of exhibits- putting the objects on the right plinths/stands and arranging everything just so in the cases. Genuinely there’s a lot of psychology behind exhibit design- colors, lighting, the way you might design an exhibit to be navigated vs the path people will actually take through the gallery, people’s sight lines and where their eyes go first, how the display of any given object affects people’s perception of the importance of that object. Fascinating stuff, many books on the subject.

There are also a lot of accessibility concerns to be considered here- how bright is the gallery, how large is your display text, at what height is the central eyeline of your cases?

Museums often loan objects to and from each other’s collections, so if you’re building an exhibit and you’d really like to include X type of object but your museum doesn’t have any, you can borrow some from another museum (this isn’t necessarily a guarantee- museums are allowed to say no to these requests, but I think manners would dictate that they should have a good reason)

Museums sometimes tour whole exhibitions as well- the objects, the text placards, maybe even the stands for super special or fragile items- and exhibit coordinator people are the ones who would handle those arrangements.

Potentially good opportunities for angst stories here- wow things come to life at your museum, you fall in love with a statue but oh no it’s only at your museum for three months

Collections Care

People who work in Collections Management have the most direct contact with the museum objects themselves. You probably work here if you prefer objects to people. When a museum gets new material, these are the people involved. They might not always initiate acquisitions, and the final approval is probably down to the relevant curator, but 98% of the time they’d be consulted (I hope).

A mind-boggling statistic is that most museums only have like 10% of their collections on display at any given time. Yeah. Forreal lol. But collections folk will know where the other 90% is and what’s in it (particularly the longer they’ve been there).

There’s usually a head Collections Manager. Other workers might be a Collection Assistant/Associate, Collections Officer (we like calling people Officers for some reason), Registrar, or some variant of these depending on the specific flavor of your duties.

Main job duties can be divided amongst documentation and database work, organization and storage of objects, and lite conservation. Just how much/how technical the conservation work depends on your own training, but also on the size/funding of your museum. The more money, the more likely your museum is to have its own lab with people specifically trained as conservators. More on them later.

Here’s what happens when a museum gets new stuff!:

Ideally, it goes to a ‘quarantine zone’ first. This is a separate space or room where the objects can relax for a few weeks to a few months (ultimate best practice is actually a year, but, you know. that’s a long time) to ensure that they’re not harboring anything icky (bugs, mold, etc) that will infect the rest of the collections. It’s ideally super-sealed and climate-controlled, but the primary feature should be that it’s away from the main collections store.

Collections folk do the paperwork. They’ll give each individual object a unique number (following their preexisting system that will allow it to be identified distinct from all the other objects in the collection). They’ll create a ‘collections record’ for the object- documentation containing any and all information about the object. This includes the accession paperwork (everything that says ‘we legally own this now’); provenance info (all previous owners and everywhere else the object has been in its life); measurements and description (in painful detail); and conservation history and concerns (ie ‘there’s a crack in the side so pick up with care’, ‘this was repaired in the 70s so that glue is gonna fall apart any day now’).

(I'll say as a fic writer that this would be an great time to wax poetic over a beautiful statue or painting; you can’t write “This golden crown deserved to be worn by a great king, or maybe by that broody Roman general in the painting in Gallery B” in the collections paperwork, but you can think it.)

For fiction’s sake, your collections records could be either paper or digital, but in an ideal world a museum would have both setups, for security’s sake. So you’d fill out some long forms and/or input all the information to the digital collections management system (‘the CMS’, or referred to by your specific software’s name, as there are many out there). The CMS is not a static archive, but rather a living register that’s updated every time an object is interacted with. The object records also include where an object is at any given time (‘normally in Case E in the Fancypants Gallery, currently in Conservation Lab A for repairs’).

Once the objects are done in quarantine, they’ll go to storage. If they’re being displayed immediately, they’ll probably go to some interim storage space/shelf with other objects for the same exhibit and in that case only get a temporary setting. Every object will get labeled with their object number (directly on them, with a special pen that’s safe for this. Or if it’s really tiny, like a coin or jewelry, then their own tiny box will get the label). Small or fragile items, or items grouped together, will go in their own boxes (made of acid- and lignin-free cardboard or polyethylene plastic, like Rubbermaid totes; lined with polyethylene foam and then acid-free tissue paper). Stable ceramic vessels might sit directly on lined shelving, particularly if they’re very large or heavy, like many stone objects.

Listen, every type of object has a particular way(s) of storing that’s best for them, you’re gonna have to look that up yourself or consult someone if you need that level of detail

Ideally, before being stored away, objects are also photographed. This could be part of the Collection Officer’s duty, and/or your museum could have a photographer on staff. (say it with me:) This is more likely if your museum is really huge and/or has a backlog of unphotographed collections and has hired someone specifically, even if temporarily, to improve its collections documentation.

I would say a collections person, or anyone with a museum studies degree, should have some minimum amount of conservation knowledge that includes basic storage standards for different object materials, how to spot potential preservation problems (like if your bronze axe head is actively oxidizing or if that green spot looks the same as it always has since starting and pausing decaying), and maybe how to give objects a basic clean or deal with certain types of problems. But the nitty-gritty science is more the realm of Conservators, someone with a degree that ends in -Sci or who’s done some other certification course.

The general collections store should always be dark, slightly too cool for prolonged human comfort, and labeled to high heaven. Objects will most likely be grouped by material- ceramics/pottery, metals, precious metals and stones (jewelry or beads), stone, glass, wood, bone/ivory/other organic material like feathers or teeth or anything that can be decorative, textiles, paintings. A museum often has some paper material/documents, usually part of or related to a group of objects they acquired, but generally paper and photographic material is the realm of archives and archivists. Yet again, the bigger/more well-funded the museum, the more likely it to have a separate archive department, so your character could also work as an archivist in a museum.

Another thing the collections care folk probably do is ship objects. Remember how I said that museums loan objects and exhibitions to each other? The stuff’s gotta travel somehow! If things are being shipped internationally, they’ll go in big wooden crates, with specifically dimensioned partitions inside. Then it will be lined with our favorite foam and tissue paper, cut so the objects sit snugly inside. I haven’t personally worked anywhere with a possibility of local shipments, so I can’t say where the threshold might be as to when a museum would just pay an employee to drive the objects over vs ship them with a shipping company. But the preparations would be similar, minus the big wooden crate but with extra-careful packing (and paperwork and insurance etc)

Conservation

Conservators are the people who work in labs with fancy equipment. Not every museum will have a formal conservator or a lab of any kind; sometimes the collections care person fills this role, or if something urgently needs care beyond the abilities of the museum’s equipment, they might send it away to a lab elsewhere, the same way you can send your old VHS home videos to a professional archive to be digitized.

If an object is actively deteriorating in a way that could harm itself or other objects (as opposed to like, at risk of fading bc the lighting is wrong, which is a straightforward fix related to the environment), that’s when a conservator would intervene.

Some methods/machinery by which you can analyze objects:

Ultraviolet (UV) and infrared (IR) light - Different materials absorb and react to light differently, which you can use to identify them. Useful for seeing things like the different layers of paintings

Stereo-microscopy (microscopes, of varying strengths)

At magnifications of x5-x100 you can see things like tool marks from an object’s manufacture, traces from wear, deposits, and coatings

At x50-x500, with a thin sliver of a sample, you can see (and hopefully identify) fibers, layers, particles, metallographic structures

You can get information from objects without taking samples, but samples are usually worth the information.

energy dispersive x-ray fluorescence spectrometry (EDXRF) - EDXRF allows you to identify the elemental composition of the surface layer of an object. So it might tell you what a tool is made of, and also the composition of the objects it was used on, if they left traces

scanning electron microscopy (SEM) - an SEM uses a focused beam of electrons to produce a magnified, high-resolution image of the surface of an object

X-radiography, both film and digital - X-rayy are beneficial for objects that might be covered by dirt or corrosion and can show you details of an object’s construction or hidden structural weaknesses

I’m not a conservator, so if you want more hard science-based info, ask one of them lol

Listen to me. If you take nothing else away from this post, let it be this:

Once an object is in a museum, it is never seeing natural daylight again. Sunlight is the ultimate enemy of every object’s lifespan. If you need to see an object in the sun or moon light for ~magical spell reasons~, you will straight up be stealing that object to smuggle it outside.

Okay. That being said, you do hear (and could probably google) stories about museum employees stealing things from their museums on purpose to prove a point about security or insurance to their higher-ups, so like. Depending on your type of museum, it might not be impossible to steal from lmao. (Don’t tell anyone I said that.)

Possibly the most useful advice for you to keep in mind when writing your conservator or collections care characters would be that touching objects hurts them. It might not hurt them now, it might not even hurt them in ten years, but every time you handle an object, there’s a risk that you’ll damage it. Not on purpose, obviously, but to err is human. The simplest, most effective advice my conservation professor ever gave us was “don’t handle an object if you don’t have to.” That means don’t move an object without a plan and a place to put it, first examination should always be visual, not tactile, etc. Unfortunately, that means that your character cannot walk around lovingly handling and caressing their favorite objects (unless this is a Night at the Museum situation where the objects are caressing them back, ykwim)

Museum Technician

These people probably have a lot of different names, but basically, technicians are the background muscle of the museum. They do the technical construction of bigger pieces of exhibition material, up to and including the exhibition cases themselves.

So they wouldn’t deal with the small mount that the object rests on, but they might build the big plinth that the mount sits on. They’ll help move things around the building, particularly big heavy things, hang big framed works, assist with exhibit installs, and generally do most things which might involve power tools/equipment or heavy lifting

I worked in a big museum that hired a third party company to supply their technicians; I interviewed at another place that hired their own. If you’re a small museum, you might just have a freelance person that comes in once or twice a week to help move things.

Other

Other miscellaneous roles one could have in a museum: researcher (for exhibits and/or collections), gift shop or cafe worker, security guard, room attendant, translator, archaeologist, consultant

Honestly, TL;DR? Just have your character be a consultant of some kind. “Oh no, I don’t work here, I’m Y’s friend. They called me in to provide some expertise on X subject that they’re doing an exhibit on.” This could work for literally any subject- history/archaeology/anthropology, art, transportation, science and technology, anything you might find pictures of in an archive, idk. This could get you into an office or meeting room of some kind in the ‘employee only’ space of the museum, or potentially all the way into the collections store if you’re giving them information they were missing about some objects. Otherwise you’d probably (hopefully) need a key or some other kind of security clearance to get into the collections store.

Whew, that was a ride, huh? I hope this guide was useful to someone! I’m always open to answering questions if you think I forgot something or if anyone wants more details <3

#hopefully this is useful to people as Gladiator II comes out <3 #i dont really know how to tag this lol #museums #fic advice #writing advice #reference #writing resources

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camisoledadparis · 2 months ago

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THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … December 13

1904 – The Iowa Supreme Court rules that "irresistible insane impulse" is a possible defense against a charge of sodomy.

1904 – Glen Byam Shaw (d.1986) was an English actor and theatre director, known for his dramatic productions in the 1950s and his operatic productions in the 1960s and later. Created CBE in 1954, he also received the Hon DLitt of the University of Birmingham in 1959.

In the 1920s and 1930s Byam Shaw was a successful actor, both in romantic leads and in character parts. He worked frequently with his old friend John Gielgud. After working as co-director with Gielgud at the end of the 1930s, he preferred to direct rather than act. He served in the armed forces during the Second World War, and then took leading directorial posts at the Old Vic, the Shakespeare Memorial Theatre and Sadler's Wells (later known as the English National Opera).

Byam Shaw was born in London, the youngest of five siblings. He was educated at Westminster School, where his contemporaries included his elder brother, James Byam Shaw, later a well-known art historian, and John Gielgud, who became a lifelong friend and professional colleague.

Byam Shaw's first appearance was at Torquay in the west of England, in C. K. Munro's comedy At Mrs. Beam's. In 1925 he made his London debut, playing Yasha in J.B. Fagan's production of The Cherry Orchard, in a cast that included Alan Napier as Gaiev, O.B. Clarence as Firs and Gielgud as the young student Trofimov. Over the next few years Byam Shaw appeared in three more plays by Chekhov, and in plays by Strindberg and Ibsen. He made his New York debut in November 1927 as Pelham Humphrey in And So To Bed.

Actress Constance Collier was impressed by Byam Shaw and used her influence to gain him roles. Among those to whom she introduced him was Ivor Novello, then a leading figure in London theatre. She directed them both in the play Down Hill in 1926. Byam Shaw and Novello became lovers for a short time. This drew him into contact with the poet Siegfried Sassoon, another friend of Collier; he and Byam Shaw became close. Their friendship lasted for the rest of Sassoon's life, although they ceased to be sexual partners quite quickly; Sassoon became involved with Stephen Tennant, and Byam Shaw fell in love with an actress, Angela Baddeley. They married in 1929. The marriage, which lasted until her death in 1976, was, Denison writes, "a supremely happy one, both domestically and professionally"; the couple had a son and a daughter.

1912 – England requires flogging for a second violation of the 1898 law prohibiting Gay solicitation.

Peter Dorey (L) with Ernest Cole

1947 – Peter Dorey (d.2021) was the co-founder of Gay’s the Word, the first bookshop in the UK dedicated to selling books and magazines for the LGBT+ community.

Dorey founded the shop in Bloomsbury, central London, together with Ernest Hole and Jonathan Cutbill, in 1979. Naming the shop after the Ivor Novello musical, the trio aimed to provide a safe space where LGBT+ people could meet and share a love of books, including many titles that were not available elsewhere.

Peter Dorey was born in 1947 in London to Frederick and Irene Dorey and educated at Preston Manor Grammar School in Wembley. Whilst at the University of Leeds he became interested in broadcasting, working for the student radio station on campus. Upon graduating he joined the BBC as a sound engineer, spending more than 20 years at studios in Belfast and Bristol. It was at a meeting of Gay Icebreakers, a social group, that he and his colleagues came up with the idea of a specialist bookshop for the LGBT+ community, with Dorey providing the funding.

During the miners’ strike of 1984-85, the bookstore became the meeting hub for Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners (LGSM), a group which raised funds for striking coalminers in south Wales. Their story is celebrated in the film Pride (2014), directed by Matthew Warchus.

As the subject of long-term surveillance and institutional homophobia, Gay’s the Word was raided in 1984 by HM Customs and Excise, which claimed that “indecent or obscene” material was being held there. Thousands of pounds of stock was removed by Customs officers whilst Dorey and his colleagues were charged with conspiracy to import indecent books, under the archaic Customs Consolidation Act of 1876.

Questions in parliament from Chris Smith and Frank Dobson and pressure from campaigners forced a review of the case. A crowdfunding campaign raised £55,000, including £3,000 donated by the author Gore Vidal. Smith came out as Britain’s first openly gay MP a few months later. The charges against Dorey and his co-directors were eventually dropped.

Dorey met Timothy Groom in 1985 and they were partners until Groom's death in 2010.

1948 – Tom Walmsley, born in Liverpool, England, is a Canadian playwright, novelist, poet and screenwriter.

Born in Liverpool, Walmsley came to Canada with his family in 1952, and was raised in Oshawa, Ontario, and Lorraine, Quebec. He dropped out of high school and battled addictions as a young adult.

In addition to his plays, Walmsley was the winner of the first Three-Day Novel Contest in 1979 for his novel Doctor Tin. He later published a sequel, Shades, and another unrelated novel, Kid Stuff. Walmsley wrote the screenplay for Jerry Ciccoritti's film Paris, France in 1993. Ciccoritti also later adapted Walmsley's play Blood into a film.

Walmsley's style of writing ranges from the naturalistic to the poetic and, at times, the absurd. He moves easily between dramatic and comedic, and some of his "darkest" work is treated with a cutting sense of humour. His most common themes include sex (both hetero- and homosexual, often involving sado-masochistic fetishes, adulterous affairs, and, in the case of Blood, incest), violence, addiction (to alcohol and heroin in particular), and God (from a Christian perspective). He rarely deals with politics directly, although he openly displays a distaste for middle-class morality and social conservative interpretations of Christianity.Early in his career, Walmsley summarized his sense of personal identity as "blond, stocky, below average height, uncircumcised, bisexual, tattooed, with bad teeth and very large feet".

1975 – Lionel Baier, born in Lausanne, is a Swiss film director. He began his career with a short called "Good Enough To Eat" and two docs: one for Swiss television called The Pastor, the other about gay pride in the Valais.

At 28 he released his first feature, a breakout festival hit, Garcon Stupide, about a confused, uneducated, perpetually frisky 20 year-old named Loic who wants more than the quick tricks he turns with older men on the streets of Lausanne. The marketing department tried to sell Baier's follow-up, Stealth, as another gay romp but the character's main preoccupation is coping with the discovery that his family's background is Polish, which leads to a road trip, which leads to a providential hookup.

In 2009, Baier made Another Man about a straight writer who stumbles into a job as a small-town newspaper movie reviewer For something different, the next year Baier shot Low Cost on his cell phone in a month. Low Cost is a 60-minute drama about a 34 year-old who knows when he's going to die. In 2013 he released Great Waves, his first period drama, set in April 1974 during Portugal's Carnation Revolution.

1990 – Anton Hysén is a Swedish footballer who plays in the Swedish third division for Utsiktens BK, which is coached by his father Glenn Hysén. He is a former member of the Swedish national under-17 association football team and was given a trainee contract with BK Häcken from 2007 to 2009,[3] but was hindered by injuries and instead joined Utsiktens BK, for whom he plays in his third season. He was previously a member of Torslanda IK. His older brothers are football players Tobias Hysén (half-brother) and Alexander Hysén. He won the seventh season of Let's Dance, being the first openly gay person to win this competition.

He came out as gay to the Swedish football magazine Offside in March 2011. Daily Mail has described Anton as the "first high-profile Swedish footballer to announce that he is gay" and as the second active professional football player to come out, after English footballer Justin Fashanu in 1990. The BBC called him "a global one-off".

Hysén was profiled on Swedish broadcaster TV4 on March 9, 2011, in a debate show moderated by Lennart Ekdal titled "Can gays play football too?".

He works part-time as a construction worker.

1999 – US Defense Secretary William Cohen ordered a full review of the "Don't ask, don't tell" policy. The policy had recently been criticized for creating a hostile environment.

2002 – The Belgium Senate approves same-sex marriage, making Belgium the second country to do so.

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beardedmrbean · 1 month ago

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When Charlotte Tredgett won a place at King’s College London to study philosophy, the bright, enthusiastic teenager envisaged thoughtful exchanges, intense discussions – even heated debates – about the most pressing moral and ethical questions of the day.

Indeed, the university prospectus promises just that. The course will, it says, “equip students with the skills to develop, analyse and communicate arguments” and “hone their critical thinking” in a “focused environment with plenty of feedback and discussion”.

But the reality was very different.

“When classes started, it became abundantly clear that fellow students did not welcome views questioning the prevailing ideologies around gender, religion, capitalism or colonialism,” says the student, from Colchester.

An hour-long seminar on gender in philosophy provided the ultimate illustration of how “wokeness” is stifling debate on campus.

“It was the most silent seminar I’ve ever attended,” says Tredgett, 20. “We had read an academic paper and were supposed to talk about it, but barely a word was said.”

The teaching assistant running the class worked valiantly through a list of questions, waiting 30 awkward seconds for a response, before giving up and answering each himself.

“For an hour, it was the sound of his voice as he ploughed on,” says the undergraduate. “In that whole time, there were about two comments from the group of about 10 students, and those were very carefully worded – almost rehearsed.”

Self-censoring undergraduates were simply terrified to speak in a climate where saying the “wrong thing” can make you a social pariah.

“It wasn’t that everyone in the room was a ‘sex realist’ or gender critical and afraid to ‘out’ themselves,” says the philosophy student. “There will have been people who were gender positive and people who didn’t know either way, but everyone was scared of wording things wrongly, and the reaction of their peers if they did.”

Tredgett, who attended an independent school on a scholarship and gained four A*s in her A-levels, had already been on the receiving end of students’ moralising “wokeness”, after revealing to her flatmates that she was a Eurosceptic and would have voted for Brexit.

As she explained her views on the EU and British sovereignty, they accused her of not caring about human rights and began to laugh, filming her on their mobiles and sending the footage to their friends.

“There were groups of people whom I had never met who knew me as ‘the racist girl’,” said Tredgett. “If you disagree with prevailing ideological views, you are not just wrong, you are morally wrong and evil, and that justifies almost bullying tactics.”

Ostracising those who are perceived to be out of line has become the punishment of choice across campuses.

In an ongoing case, Leeds University student Connie Shaw was sacked by her student union from presenting on student radio because of her gender critical views. She was told she will only be reinstated if she makes a written apology and takes “mandatory training”. She has also been told by pals that they were warned off making friends with her by fellow students.

This cancel culture can have deadly consequences. Alexander Rogers was in his third year at Oxford University when he took his own life after being ostracised when a student expressed discomfort about a sexual encounter with him. At last month’s inquest into the suicide, the corner warned that “self-policing” was occurring without proper investigation or evidence, and posed a significant risk to student mental health and wellbeing.

Its “chilling effect” on free speech has prompted some American colleges, including faculties at Harvard and the newly opened University of Austin, to introduce “Chatham House Rule” – where comments made in class are non-attributable. It is hoped that lecturers and students will speak more freely in a culture where their words will not be dissected on campus or on social media.

In Britain, university bosses are beginning to admit the severity of the problem. Robert Van de Noort, the vice-chancellor of the University of Reading, warned MPs recently that “rigid ideas and self-censorship” were creating echo chambers on campus.

Research backs this up. A study by the Higher Education Policy Institute, which questioned students on free speech issues in 2016 and again in 2022, revealed they had become “significantly less supportive of free expression”. Some 38 per cent believed “universities are becoming less tolerant of a wide range of viewpoints” – rising to 51 per cent for male students – up from less than a quarter in 2016.

Meanwhile, a global poll of academics found that 80 per cent in the UK agreed that free speech was more limited than 10 years ago, with staff self-censoring out of fear of upsetting or being complained about by students or colleagues. One British psychology academic explained that “any diversion from the accepted line” on issues such as gender, colonialism, the Israel-Palestine conflict and neurodiversity was seen as “meaning you are a bad person rather than just someone who disagrees”.

Link here, it didn't want to embed

Against this backdrop, the Higher Education (Freedom of Speech) Bill, passed under the last government to offer protections on campus, has been paused by the Labour Government to allow it to “consider options”.

Heather McKee, a psychology student at the University of Glasgow, blames the compulsion to condemn those with different views on the “critical social justice umbrella” that has descended like a shroud over UK and US universities in the past decade. Trans activism, critical race theory (CRT) and the decolonisation agenda simplify complex interactions and divide the world into the “oppressed” and “oppressors”.

“Believing in women-only spaces or in tighter borders or in a meritocracy – these are views that are held by the vast majority of people in this country,” said McKee. “Yet because of imposed groupthink, students and academics are too afraid to voice them and are being punished when they do.”

In a recent online discussion about ethics, the mature student brought up the groundbreaking Cass review, which criticised gender services for children and young people and led to a UK ban on the prescribing of puberty blockers to those under 18.

“I got crickets [silence],” says McKee, 44. “Either no one knew what it was, or if they did, they didn’t want to talk about it. When I spoke to one of my lecturers about this, she simply talked about the university being an inclusive environment. I thought, ‘Yes, but not inclusive to my view that sex is binary and biology is important’.”

But some students are beginning to fight back. McKee, 44, is the convenor of the student branch of Academics For Academic Freedom (AFAF). It has more than 1,700 followers on social media and student membership numbers are in double figures. But it is a hard slog persuading young people to put their heads above the parapet.

For McKee, campaigning for free speech is not just about being able to voice her views in seminars without meeting tumbleweed, it is about protecting students’ interests.

She cites members who are studying clinical psychology who are being taught that CRT – which purports that Western structures, institutions and knowledge uphold white supremacy and are inherently racist – is “the truth” rather than a contested theory.

“They are white males and being taught that they are privileged, that they can’t imagine what it is like to be a black woman, for instance. They are training to be psychologists and are supposed to help people work through their problems, but they are being told they can never understand. What are they supposed to do with that?”

McKee and Tredgett are concerned that speaking out will count against them – at university and in their future careers – but both feel the fight is bigger than that.

“There is a shockingly militant echo chamber within the communities of people that are supposed to be pursuing truth,” warns Tredgett. “This is not hysteria, and it is not a small number of cases. It is real and is happening all over the country.”

#nunyas news

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coopsgirl · 2 years ago

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Modern AU Thranduil One Shot - Studying Abroad

Safe for work, 995 words

The study abroad program you were participating in felt like a dream come true. The University of Kent located in Canterbury had proved to be the right school as the campus was lovely and it was a short train trip to London which made it easy to travel around the rest of England from there. You had been invited to a bonfire by some of your classmates and you happily accepted. The crowd grew fairly large by the time the sun had begun to set which during the Summer, was quite late. One man in particular caught your eye. He was very tall, you guessed around 6’5”, and had shaggy, light blonde hair. You were afraid he was going to notice you staring but it was hard to stop as he was so handsome. “You fancy him, don’t you?” your friend Ruby asked as she sat down on the ground beside you. “He’s really cute” you confessed. “He’s rich too. His father is the Earl of Guilford. He’s the eldest so he’ll inherit the title one day.” “Really?! I’ve never met anybody with a title.” “Come on, I’ll introduce you.” “No! I couldn’t. I’m a nobody” you said in protest. Ruby stood up and then took your hands to pull you to your feet as well. “He’s a real sweetheart. Come on!”

You followed behind her nervously as you walked towards him. “Hello! I’m Ruby and I wanted to introduce you to my friend Y/N. She’s studying abroad from America and has never met any of the nobility.” “Oh well, it’s very nice to meet you both. I’m Thranduil” he said with a big smile as he took turns shaking each woman’s hand. “I’ll see you later” Ruby said and then she walked away leaving them alone. “I hope we didn’t bother you” you said apologetically now feeling quite embarrassed as Ruby hadn’t known him any more than you did. “No bother at all. Are you studying at the university here?” “Yes. It’s just for the Summer but so far, I’m having a wonderful time. I’ve always wanted to come to England.” “I’m glad you’re enjoying your visit and I’m glad you were able to come to my party as well.” “This is your party?” you asked as you realized you hadn’t been given much information about the event. “Yes. I graduated from the University of Kent and every Summer I like to hold a party open to all current students, particularly the ones dedicated enough to continue classes through the Summer term” “That’s really nice of you. Is this your property?” “Yes, the manor house is just on the other side of that rise” he said as he pointed to a small green hill behind him. “Thanks again for the party and for not minding talking with me. I should get back to my friends.” “Do you have to?” he asked with a half-smile. You felt the butterflies in your stomach going crazy as you replied, “No, I guess I don’t have to.”

“Would you like to see the house? There’s a beautiful view from just over there” he said looking to the hill. “I’d love to see it.” You could hardly believe your eyes when the large house came into view. “Wow! I can’t imagine living somewhere like that.” “It was built in the 1700s. It takes a lot of work to maintain but it’s a privilege to be responsible for it and make sure it stands for centuries to come.” Thranduil was so proud as he spoke of the home he had been raised in and that he loved dearly. There was a gazebo not far from them and he took her hand in his as they walked towards it. You sat down beside each other and looked out onto the sky where the first stars were beginning to twinkle in the twilight. “I went to Leeds Castle last weekend and that was really fun. It’s beautiful there too.” You really wanted to tell him that he was the most handsome man you’d ever seen with a voice smoother than silk but instead you rambled about the places you’d been. “It is very lovely there…as are you.” You looked up at him with surprise and he quickly spoke again. “I am sorry. That was much too forward.” You felt courage well up inside you as you said, “I don’t mind. I think you’re really cute too.” You could feel your whole face turn red as you thought you sounded silly but the smile he gave you quickly put you at ease.

“I hope this doesn’t sound rude but I’ve never heard the name Thranduil before, is it a traditional English name.” He chuckled and then answered. “The name was my father’s idea. It is very old and I don’t believe that anyone has used it in centuries. I usually go by Thran.” “It’s a nice name and definitely is unique. Should I ask about your middle name?” you said with a joking tone. “Oh, it’s even worse! It’s Oropherion” he explained and you both laughed. “You’ll have to explain that one to me sometime” you said hinting that you wanted to see him again. “I certainly will” he said and he reached over to hold your hand.

Thran then smiled as he moved a little closer to you and then took both of your hands in his. He leaned forward and tenderly kissed your forehead. When you did not pull away, he looked into your eyes and then his soft lips kissed yours. He let go of your hands to caress your face and neck and you put your arms around his chest and pulled him closer to you. His kisses were gentle and sweet and you could feel yourself becoming a bit lightheaded. A shooting star streaked across the sky above but you were both oblivious to anything going on around you as you were completely lost in each other’s arms.

#lee pace #thranduil #thranduil one shot #thranduil x reader #thranduil x y/n #thranduil x you #tolkien fic #modern au thranduil #thranduil oropherion #thranduil fluff

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scotianostra · 5 months ago

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August 25th 1819 saw the death of the engineer and inventor James Watt.

Born in Greenock overlooking the Firth of Clyde, Watt suffered from poor health and did not attend school regularly. Instead, he spent time in his father’s workshop, learning engineering skills and making models. He trained as an instrument maker and in 1756 the University of Glasgow employed him as an instrument maker, providing him with lodgings and a workshop.

Watt styled himself as ‘Mathematical Instrument Maker to the University’. In this role Watt was exposed to the vibrant community of experimenters and theorists in Enlightenment Glasgow. The Professor of Natural Philosophy was John Anderson, who would later go on to found Anderson’s College, which ultimately became the University of Strathclyde asked Watt to repair the University’s Newcomen steam engine and he then identified how to improve the efficiency of this machine while out walking. But as it was a Sunday, and the strictures against working on the Sabbath were still very prevalent, he had to wait till the next day before he could write it down. His idea was to separate the condenser from the cylinder and enclose the cylinder in a steam jacket.

Although Watt patented his idea, his early business had production problems and he sold the patent to a Birmingham entrepreneur, Matthew Boulton, and went into partnership with him. This proved to be highly successful and Watt retired a wealthy man in 1800.

Watt never stopped inventing right up to his death and he created a steam locomotive, a chemical document copier, advised Josiah Wedgwood on pottery processes, surveyed the Caledonian and Forth and Clyde Canals and deepened both the rivers Clyde and Forth. He also gave his name to the Watt unit of power and introduced the term “horsepower”. But it is Watt’s development of the steam engine, which was the springboard for the Industrial Revolution for which he is rightly famous.

I never realised there were so many statues to Watt until now, they are, in order, at George Square, Glasgow, The Hunterian, Glasgow, Heriot-Watt’s University Edinburgh campus, William St, Greenock, Leeds, Yorkshire, and my fave with his partner, Matthew Boulton, and subject of my post last week William Murdock, at Broad Street, Birmingham, Birmingham also boasts a second statue at Chamberlain Square, there is another in front of the People’s Palace at Glasgow Green, and one in Edinburgh in the National Museums of Scotland .St. Paul’s Churchyard, London and Piccadilly Gardens, Manchester. Further afield we have another at Montevideo Railway Station, Uruguay.

There are also busts of Watt in The National Portrait Gallery, Edinburgh and The National Wallace Monument. If I have missed any out please let me know!

You can read more of James Watt’s life here

#scotland #scottish #history #engineer #inventor

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the-garbanzo-annex-jr · 1 year ago

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By DAVID BARRETT

A Chaplain at Leeds University was forced into hiding with his young family yesterday after receiving death threats over his role as an IDF reservist.

Rabbi Zecharia Deutsch, wife Nava and their two children were moved to a safe location on police advice amid a shocking hate campaign.

Pro-Palestinian campaigners have accused Rabbi Deutsch of 'genocide' after he returned to Israel after Hamas's October 7 terror attacks to serve in the Israeli Defence Force.

He resumed his chaplaincy duties last month, leading to an escalation in anti-Semitic threats on campus.

On Thursday evening, the hate campaign intensified with 'hundreds' of malicious calls to the family, including threats to kill Rabbi Deutsch, to rape and kill Mrs Deutsch and to murder their children.

Rabbi Zecharia Deutsch with his wife Nava. The pair were forced to flee their Leeds home with their children following the threats

In a recording of one phone call to Mrs Deutsch – heard by the Mail – the caller said: 'Tell that Jewish son of a bitch we are coming for him.

'We're coming to his house, we're going to kill him, and you as well you f****** racist bitch.'

Another caller said: 'Us Muslims are coming for you, you dirty Zionist m***********.'

Another said: 'We are going to get you. How dare you come back to Leeds and expect the Muslims not to do 'owt, when all you lot have been doing is killing innocent children.'

The Deutsch family decided to leave their Leeds home after taking police advice, sources said.

It comes amid skyrocketing levels of anti-Semitism on British university campuses and around Europe.

The University Jewish Chaplaincy (UJC) said: 'We are deeply shocked and appalled by the despicable torrent of horrific anti-Semitic hate and threats of violence being directed at Rabbi Deutsch and his family.

'We are in constant communication with Rabbi Deutsch, and our primary concern is to ensure his and his family's ongoing safety, and the safety of Jewish students at Leeds University.

'To find ourselves in this situation in the UK in 2024 marks a dark day for British Jews.'

#rabbi zecharia deutch #chaplain #leeds university #death threats

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justacanofcorn · 29 days ago

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quam amiterre ludum (losing the game) James Moriarty x OC

Chapter Six: et felicitas

Chapter Five

Anora helps the detective. Anora fulfilled a job. and happiness.

While it doesn't seem like the sort of thing that can wait, Anora must attend class today and she still hasn't slept, so she collapses onto her bed and promises herself she'll share her discoveries in the evening. She doesn't sleep long but by the time she's at her lecture she's well enough awake, or she feels that way. She almost wishes she had skipped again for how boring they are but she's missing too much school as it is. All she wants is to graduate and move on to something greater in her life, perhaps move away from London. Somewhere in the countryside. But what would a small village need with a maths and chemistry major?

Of course, none of this matters if she can't afford to leave in the first place.

After her classes she leaves campus with urgency and walks briskly across town to Baker Street. She comes to 221B and knocks on the door as she tries to catch her breath. It's better than running but even brisk paces exacerbate her asthma. When there's no answer to the door, she tries the bell. Finally, it's Mrs. Hudson who answers.

“Ah! Ms. Leeds. Can I help you?”

“Is the detective in?”

“No, and thank heavens for my head! No, I believe he was off to see Doctor Watson, you might try his house. Send him my warm wishes, would you?”

Dejected, Anora thanks the landlady and continues down the lane, content now to take her time. If he won't even be home, then clearly he's in no hurry to receive the decoded letter, so why should Anora put any more strain on her chest?

She walks to the doctor's neighborhood. In an open market between the two homes are some traders with exotic wares, drawing in quite a crowd. Anora shoulders her way through as politely as she can. She moves past an old woman and recognizes her. Her stomach lurches and just as their eyes meet, Anora's trying to retreat.

“You-!” The old woman begins. Anora tries to go but is suddenly blocked by a thick part of the crowd.

“I’m sorry- I think you’ve mistaken me-” she's stuttering because she knows the woman knows exactly who she is and she can't get away.

“No! I could never forget you in a hundred years. You’re the rotten girl who gave my husband that horrid letter! He’s dead because of it! The shock of it killed him, that and that monstrous man! How can you live with yourself?”

All the while, the woman has seized Anora and is shaking her as much as a woman of her old age can. Anora begins to cry and tries to pull away, but she's afraid of hurting the woman.

“Ma’am, I didn’t know what was in the letter, all I knew was to deliver it, I swear.”

Then comes the woman's flat palm to Anora's cheek, and the sound must resonate enough for the immediate surrounding crowd to turn. As Anora's hand comes up to soothe the spot the woman releases her. Anora's crying, not only for the pain and embarrassment, but because she knows she's deserved every moment of this, and worse.

A younger woman, older than Anora, comes pushing through the bystanders.

“Mother!” She addresses Anora. “I’m so sorry.”

Anora begins to shake her head because her honesty is trying to take over her body and admit her fault. The old woman fights against her daughter.

“This is the little wretch who killed your father!”

The crowd reacts appropriately but the daughter tries to calm them.

“No, Mother, no one killed him. It was a heart attack, remember?” The daughter turns to Anora again. “I’m so sorry. She hasn’t been the same since my father died. I’m so terribly sorry.”

Anora is finally able to back away but can't look away from the elderly woman.

“No, I- I am-” she can't seem to form the words, because she's never had to say them before. Finally she tears herself away, all thoughts for her aching lungs gone, and sprints to the Watson home. When she arrives she abandons pretense and lets herself inside since the door is unlocked. She goes into the parlor and sinks into a chair, sobbing.

“Madam! Sirs! Miss Leeds has arrived!”

Looking up from her hands, Anora finds the Watson housekeeper scrutinizing her from the hall, no doubt judging harshly her intrusion and the state she's in. Holmes, Watson, and Mary renter the room casually but Mary's mood changes entirely when she sees Anora.

“Dear! What happened? Your face- did someone hit you?”

The handprint must be beginning to show and Anora gently pushes Mary away. She doesn't think she deserves comfort. She deserves every ounce of this pain.

“I-” she hiccups. “It was an encounter. It was deserved. I'm sorry for barging in.” Anora bends down to retrieve the decoded letter and her notes, and hands them to Holmes.

“Cassava is referencing the cyanide gas from the Blackwood case. The Wren's nest is the Greenwich observatory. He's having Moran move supply but I don't know where from, or when the letter was even written. But that's what it says.”

Holmes eyes her from under his brow. “And the rest…”

“Of course he knew I'd read it.”

“Then isn't there a chance it's a trick?” Watson posits. “Would you be reading the letter if you weren't working with us?”

“I don't know,” Anora sighs. The lack of sleep is catching up with her again. “It's hard to tell without a date. He could've just been taking his chances. The cyanide could have already been moved through the observatory. We could go there and see, we could also ask Moran. Offer him something.”

“Now that we have a solid connection between him and Moriarty, we can dangle a deal in front of him,” Watson says.

“We have options,” Holmes says. “Watson, you'll go down to the station and explain the situation to Lestrade, bring the letter. Anora, you and I will go to Greenwich.”

“How would they be moving dangerous chemicals through there? It's open to the public,” Mary says.

“Moriarty was paying off the contractors when it was being renovated. Likely, they've moved any operations into the basement and tunnels. It's still worth looking into.”

“I agree. So, a plan then?”

Anora and Watson nod; Mary is the only one who looks trepidatious. Anora wants to comfort her but isn't sure how, nor if it would be appropriate.

Watson goes to reassure his wife and Anora stands and goes to Holmes.

“Care to make a stop at 221b? I need to pick up a few things and you should get rid of that bag.”

Anora has grown somewhat fond of the Baker Street place now that she's been there enough. It has a certain charm about it. Perhaps that charm is something only the detective can provide in all his quirks, but it's charm nonetheless. Anora stows her school bag and makes herself busy around the parlor as Holmes digs around for something. He finds it, gives an “aha!” at whatever the strange tool is then returns.

“Good?” Anora asks.

“Yes, very well. How's your flat?”

Anora blinks at him. “I'm sorry?”

“Your flat.”

“My flat?”

“Your apartment, then.”

“I know what flat means.”

“Well with your continuous need for clarity I thought-”

“Why are you asking me about my apartment?”

“We're friendly now.”

Anora eyes him warily. He makes eye contact but fiddles with the tool in his hands.

“If you're asking me about my flat, I'd say it's the cheapest place I could possibly find. If you're asking me about my living situation with my flat, I'd say it is soon to be terminated.”

“I see.”

A pause.

“Is that what you wanted to know?”

He shrugs. “More or less.”

How odd, Anora thinks. “Alright.”

She heads for the stairs.

“One moment,” Holmes stops her. “What do you think of this crown molding?” He uses the tool to gesture to the ceiling. Anora gives it a look.

“It's fine.”

“And the wallpaper?” He gestures to the wall. Anora tries a different response, one that isn't wholly untrue.

“Ugly.”

“It can be replaced.”

“What are you doing?”

“221B is a nice place.”

“It is.”

“Difficult to afford on one's own.”

“I can imagine.”

“Well.”

He stares at her in silence. Too slowly, his meaning hits her. She chuckles in disbelief.

“You're not-”

“Sure I am.”

“But-”

“Why not?”

Anora stutters. “It would be irresponsible, outrageous, preposterous, dangerous- there's four options, choose your favorite.”

“Dangerous? “

“We'd kill each other!”

“Nonsense. I don't want to kill you and it would seem by all accounts that I myself am unkillable.”

“Irresponsible, then.”

“How so?”

“We work together, loosely.”

“John and I worked together.”

“Yes, and now he's gone.”

“To live with his wife and soon a child. All in all I think this presents a bright future for you.”

Not even she and James had this back and forth, mostly because she never needed to argue with him much. Anora closes her eyes, takes a breath, composes herself.

“Mr. Holmes…”

“Sherlock.”

“Sorry?”

“It's my name.”

“I know-” she groans. “This is what I mean. I cannot live with that. I can't live with someone who constantly thinks of themselves as the smartest person in the room.”

“You used to be bedfellows with the smartest man in any room and he was a world class criminal. Surely I'm at least one cut above that.”

Anora's cheeks flush. He's cutting too close.

“You assume too much.”

She sees the twinkle of a response in his eye and it spells trouble. She wonders if he has the self restraint to keep it to himself.

He doesn't.

“Not bedfellows?”

If she hasn't just felt the sting of a slap herself she'd give it to him. Instead, she sets her teeth and curls her hands into fists at her sides.

“Mr. Holmes, you are toeing a very dangerous line. You joke about the things that I've done yet seem to forget that I have done them.”

She's not trying to threaten him. Whether he feels threatened by something has little to do with the person making the threat. He taps his tool, reads her, then breaks the silence.

“Well, keep me posted. I know some movers that will only knick a few things.”

Anora lets out a breath at the notion of him dropping the idea for now. “I haven't anything worth taking.”

“People always say that.”

“Are we going, now?”

“Of course. After you.”

Anora didn't grow up in London itself, so as an adult she'd only ever known Greenwich Observatory to be under indefinite construction, but she'd been once as a child. Of course it was Joseph who helped her identify the constellations and planets. Anora used to ponder whether or not she and Joseph could've made it on their own without their parents. Almost ever significant memory she has was with Joseph.

However, with the passing of a couple of years, the observatory is finally reopened and is bustling with activity. Anora and Holmes walk inside, taking in the scope of the high ceiling and the leveled walkways.

“Where is the door to the basement?” Holmes spoke slowly to her. Anora nodded in the direction.

“There. It shouldn't be guarded, should it?”

“I should think not, but locked, perhaps.”

“Between the two of us, that shouldn't be a challenge.”

If Anora had been paying attention to him, she would've seen the small smile of consideration from the detective. Instead, she was on the lookout for anyone she might know. As soon at she sees them, she grabs Holmes by the arm and turns them around.

“Where?” He asks.

“By the stained glass. Mikhail Sokolov. One of Moran's deputies. If he's here, Jefferson is likely nearby. Here,” Anora moved to the other side of Holmes.

“You think they'd sooner recognize you than me?”

“I think I'd prefer not to take my chances.”

They slowly make their way towards the basement door without being noticed by Mikhail. Anora doesn't want to fight Mikhail. She'd lose that fight, and lose it in a horrible way. Moriarty had been careful to not leave her alone with him.

The basement is indeed unguarded and indeed locked. Holmes lets her take the lead while he stands watch and she's grateful. They'd replaced the locks during renovation and her lockpick breaks almost immediately.

“Damn!” She hisses. “Does that ridiculous tool of yours have a lockpick?”

“I'm not sure I appreciate you calling it ridiculous,” he says as he retrieves it. Anora snatches it from his hand.

“I'll apologize when it works.”

And it does work, just as quickly as hers had broken.

“Ah,” she says. “Now, I adore it.” She hands it back to the detective who stores it in his vest. Anora pushes the heavy door open as little as she has to and Holmes comes in behind her. The basement is already lit but whatever hadn't been cleared after renovation has been left here.

“It won't look like it did when you last saw it,” Anora says as her eyes begin to scan the room.

“You know the police confiscated the device.”

“Yes, but Adler-” she stops herself, casting him a quick look. If he's moved by the mention of his lost love, he doesn't give it away. “Remembered enough for Moriarty to recreate it. I never saw the original so I can't speak to its fidelity.”

“Well, it won't look like a wooden crate or concrete, so let's get to digging.”

And dig they did. They dug until Anora came to a hatch in the floor.

“You didn't remember a very obvious hole in the floor?” Holmes says, out of breath from the heavy lifting they'd been doing.

“I only came down here a number of times,” Anora defends. “That padlock looks tricky. Trickier than your handy tool can handle. Do you-”

When Anora turns out to address Holmes directly, he's moving past her with a sledgehammer and slams it against the padlock, which shatters instantly.

“Oh,” Anora says quietly. “That works, too.”

She lifts the hatch and does it carefully, but where they expect an inactive device, they find-

Holmes's hand clamps over Anora's mouth and nose and he's moving them to the door. In must have been rigged with wire or something similar, not that it matters much now. Then, to her horror, Holmes is struggling with the door.

“Holmes…?”

Anora watches the gas rise slowly from the device in the floor.

“It would appear,” tug. “That the door,” tug. “Locks from the outside only.”

“Holmes!”

“That's not helping!”

Anora's eyes dart around the room until they land on the sledgehammer. She dashes back into the room and grabs the sledgehammer by the handle and drags it to the door. For all her stealth and agility, she's never been the strongest. Holmes, however, backs her away and brings the hammer down on the door handle once, twice, then three times before it finally gives. He holds it for Anora who bolts up the stairs.

“Fire!” She shouts and looks around. It's crowded, it's loud, and only a few bystanders hear her, and they only look.

“Fire!” She screeches again, and once again she only gets so much attention. Then she clamps her hands over her ears when a shrill ringing pierces the air. Holmes has activated the fire alarm. Now, the crowds disperse, fleeing from the observatory and out into the yard, then some further than that.

“Holmes!” Anora shouts. “Is cyanide flammable?”

Holmes matches her pose and thinks.

“At room temperature.”

“Heat rises,” Anora says. They both take a moment to realize what they other has says and make for the door, abandoning the thought of covering their ears. Anora is faster than the detective and gains ground.

“On your left!” Holmes shouts from behind her. Anora looks and spots Mikhail barreling towards her from one of the higher platforms. She drops to the floor and rolls before he can get a hand on her and recovers relatively well. But, as has been proven, she's a bit out of practice, so even though she gets to her feet, Mikhail has her ankle.

Anora kicks wildly. Her mind tries desperately to remember what little martial arts training she'd gained from Moran and Moriarty but all she can think about instead is just what Mikhail will do if he gets a full grapple on her.

Holmes delivers a swift kick to the side of Mikhail's head and the man topples off of Anora who scrambles to her feet again. She can thank the detective for saving her life later. Holmes doesn't waste time with Mikhail, either. He resumes his run from the observatory as soon as Mikhail is incapacitated. He and Anora finally breach the exit and yell at bystanders to flee, that the building is going to explode-

And then it does, the glass dome shattering and scattering glass, sending shards raining down. Anora and Holmes hit the ground and he puts a protective arm over her head. They give it a moment before rising again, checking for any injured. Anora's head snaps towards the building when she hears Mikhail's agonizing screams and she almost goes to him, but stops herself. He would never in a million years do her the same courtesy.

Holmes must sense this because he holds her arm.

“Don't. You'll only get yourself hurt.”

She looks at the man who saved her life, then over his shoulder as Jefferson winds up a shot for his head.

“Move!” Anora manages to say as she throws herself and the detective back to the ground. There is a gunshot, but looking back, Anora sees that it's Jefferson being shot at, and by police. The fire brigade arrived to douse the flames that remained from the explosion. But the police that weren't busy with Jefferson were approaching Anora and Holmes.

“Ever been arrested?” He asks as he helps her up.

“I've managed to avoid it.”

“Well. First time for everything.”

“Unbelievable. Do you know how much that renovation cost?”

Inspector Lestrade paces back and forth before very singed and ashy Anora and Holmes.

“Less than it would've costed to bury all those families,” Anora says. Holmes leans over.

“Well, realistically, with supply chain issues and inflation-”

“Oh, would you shut up!” Lestrade snaps. The two are quiet. “And for the record, a man is dead.”

Anora scoffs. “You mean Mikhail Sokolov? He was hardly a man and was in some way directly responsible for the explosion!”

“How many times do you expect me to vouch for you, Holmes?”

The detective shrugs. “I'd say I have a fairly decent track record of neutralizing the destruction that follows my work with the life-saving my work allows for.”

“And all things considered, I think I could be extended the same courtesy,” Anora says. Lestrade runs a hand over his face.

“I've got to have a very difficult conversation with someone about this. Until I get back, you two are not to move. At all.”

“Understood,” Holmes says, even though none of them believe it. The inspector's eyes settle on Anora. She nods.

“Of course.”

He looks between them, groans, then leaves the holding room. Anora begins to scrub her hands with her skirt but it doesn't make much of a difference.

“He wouldn't waste the cyanide on the observatory,” she notes quietly.

“Meaning he's recreated it more than once.”

“Refined it, likely. The observatory was probably a test, and an effective one.”

“Well, Mikhail is dead and Moran and Jefferson are both in police custody, so who else is there to inform Moriarty of the success?”

“He has eyes everywhere, or he'll read about it.”

“You think he's hiding close enough to read about it?”

“I don't know,” Anora sighs. “I can't get that blasted ringing out of my ears.”

“You get used to it. Or go deaf.”

Anora rests her head against the wall and laughs. She does feel a bit lighter. Adrenaline will do that to a person, but she also feels a bit safer with Mikhail and Jefferson gone, and one more threat of destruction out of the way.

“So. How about that living arrangement?”

Anora laughs again and thinks of her sad apartment.

“Ah. What the hell.”

A man Anora didn't know knocked on her apartment door the next morning. In his hands were a garment box, and on top was a letter, made out in unmistakable script, to Mr. Richard Highmark.

Anora thanked the man and took the items. She carefully placed the letter aside and set the garment box on her bed. She could only imagine what was inside. Nothing too flashy, she hoped, knowing that it wouldn't help her to stand out, and that she didn't much care for attention. She hoped too that she had written down her measurements properly. She had fitted Joseph's clothes to her form by her own hand and couldn't remember the last time she'd needed to know sizes.

Anora undid the ties of the box and lifted the lid, then shifted around the thin paper covering to reveal a pretty blue dress. Nothing fancy as she had hoped it wouldn't be, but with small touches here and there, like beading or lace, that she hadn't seen since her mother's clothes.

She didn't want to waste time. She realized quickly as well that she didn't have any nice shoes but hoped the dress would cover her feet. She shimmied into the gown and felt relief when almost simultaneously she realized she didn't have any corsets or jumps and then that she didn't need them with the way the bodice fit. Her hair had grown a little since the beginning of term, but not enough to look distinctly feminine, though the dress did well enough in that regard. Regardless, Anora dug around in her bureau until she found an old tube of lipstick, applied it, thought it too bold, blotted it out a little, then grew so frustrated with the ordeal that she settled for what she had accomplished.

When she sat on the end of her bed to lace her shoes, Anora noticed a folded piece of paper on her floor. It must have fallen out of the box when she took out the dress. She picked it up and once again, quickly recognized the handwriting.

“Miss Leeds,

To keep, and do not protest.

Some people don't deserve to be hidden in the middle.

-M”

Oh the blush that bloomed across her face and neck. She quickly folded back the note and shoved it in her desk drawer, almost afraid of someone seeing it or knowing its contents. He was being too kind. As a professor, it was easy to not question. As an employer, and one who now knew her identity, it could be nothing but questionable. Some people, rarely, are truly that gracious. She didn't quite know why she was so certain he wasn't one of them.

Or, perhaps, it was easier to believe in malintent or deceit, because the alternative would be too pleasant, too perfect. Anora didn't automatically assume the worst in people, but she was guarded.

Before she wasted any more time on the note, Anora grabbed the letter, her coin purse, and left her flat, hailing for a car outside. She gave the address and fiddled with her locket as the vehicle bounced down the road. She still wasn't used to this sort of travel and it certainly didn't help the anxiety that seized her stomach. Strangely, it wasn't the deceitful nature of her work that bothered her. She lied every day. It was more so the abject terror at the thought of failure, and not for the sake of any grand schemes or righteous plans. She doubted their existence. She didn't want to let him down.

Too soon the car stopped at Mayfair and let her out. Anora held tight to the letter in her hands. She retrieved the membership card from her purse and admired it. Her mother had something like it once. Miranda Leeds it had read in golden, sprawling letters. Her name looked just as well in her own card. She walked up the steps and to the door which was opened for her. A man greeted her at the entrance and took her card, smiled and nodded, and bid her a good day. Another set of doors separated the club floor from the outside world. Inside was as beautiful as she had expected with its blue, white, and gold paneled walls and chandeliers. Anora made a subtle show of taking tea and cakes, sitting alone by a tall window and looking out over the park. She needn't immediately bombard poor old Fanny Highmark, especially if it would help her ruse to establish herself first. A member of the woman's club wouldn't hurry in and out. She'd take to eating, socializing, perhaps reading a journal.

Well, the eating was done, she had no journals, and the socialization was sure to be brief. Anora stood and found a server.

“Pardon me, but which is Fanny Highmark?”

The young man nodded to a woman by the grand fireplace and Moriarty's quip rang true. She was wearing an ludicrously frilly hat and garment of equal garishness. She held a pair of spectacles in front of her face and frowned at the paper in her lap. Anora thanked the server and took to the other side of the room, nodding and smiling at the strangers.

When she came to Mrs. Highmark, she did her best to make herself known without startling the old woman. It didn't entirely work but she got the notion there was no way to fully avoid it.

“Oh!” Mrs. Highmark hooted. “My goodness, child. I didn't see you there. I was too enraptured with the financial report. Do you read the financial reports?”

Anora shook her head and sat in the chair across from the elder woman.

“A young woman can learn a lot from the financial reports. If you marry a man for money, you ought to understand where the money comes from, and where it goes.”

Anora nodded and smiled. She couldn't remember the last time she'd entertained the notion of marriage. It was certainly when she was younger, as all of her childhood friends were married with children long ago.

“Yes ma'am. You're Mrs. Highmark, yes?”

The woman smiled, seemingly proud of her own name, and extended a dainty hand.

“Pleased to be, yes. And you?”

Anora lightly took the woman's hand and gave it a brief shake.

“Anora Leeds, ma'am.”

“I don't believe I've seen you here before. I make it my business to know everyone. People call me a busybody but I'm of the unwavering opinion that you can never have too many friends. If you cast a wide enough net, you can catch as many friends as enemies.”

“You certainly have an abundance of wisdom.”

“Dear, when you've lived as long as I have, you make a point to keep wisdom as much as you distribute it.”

“And I'm sure it doesn't go unappreciated. If you don't mind, I was asked by an associate to bring this to you. They would've sent it with the post but they forgot and knew I would be here today and- oh, it's all rather complicated. I believe it's for your husband.”

Anora handed the letter over to Mrs. Highmark and prayed she wouldn't get a paranoid hair and open it then and there. The woman retrieved her glasses again and read the script.

“Beautiful handwriting. And who is it from?”

“Professor James Moriarty, ma'am.”

“Hm, he's at Queen Mary, yes?”

“Yes ma'am.”

“I wonder what he wants with Richard,” she mused. Anora felt relieved when Mrs. Highmark tucked the letter away into her handbag. “Well, thank you for delivering it! I'm sure if you were given such a task that it must carry some urgency. I'll see that he gets it when I get home. Now, Leeds, you said. Do you have family in London?”

“No, ma'am. My family owned an estate outside of the city.”

“Owned?”

“They've all since passed. London is my permanent residence now.”

Mrs. Highmark frowned deeply.

“Oh, you poor dear! I can't even imagine. It sounds to me like you're doing a very brave thing, being here alone.”

You don't know the half of it, Anora thought.

“I'm hopeful that my membership at the club will allow me to meet new people. I believe in the importance of networking.”

Mrs. Highmark patted her hand. “As you should. Just remember that not everyone who seems eager to be your friend has good intentions. If you have something worth taking, someone will try to take it.”

“A good piece of advice, Mrs. Highmark.” Anora found a clock in the room and used it was an excuse, regardless of the time. “My goodness! I hadn't realized how long I'd been here. I must go, but it was wonderful speaking with you. I hope I will see you again.”

“Of course, dear. Take care.”

Anora left the women's club feeling utterly and wildly successful. She returned home to change, then made for campus. It was afternoon and Moriarty was between classes at this time. Anora paid no heed to the fact that yesterday he had said she wouldn't see him today. It didn't seem relevant, not when she had just completed her first job for him. She strode through the halls with confidence until she came to the lecture hall. Inside, sitting against the afternoon glow, was her professor, reading over papers. Occasionally, he would turn in his chair to write on the board in chalk, then returned to his reading. Anora had never seen him in this state before, totally oblivious to being watched and perceived. For a few brief moments, she allowed herself the pleasure.

Before she could properly be caught, she rapped on the open door. Moriarty looked up at her in surprise.

“Mr. Leeds. I certainly was not expecting to see you today, especially after missing class.”

Anora suppressed the bubbling enjoyment of playing into the ruse because the feeling was childlike, and she was not a child.

“Yes, I came to apologize and turn in my report, if that's alright.”

“Certainly.”

Moriarty stood and went to the door, closing it behind her. He returned to his desk and leaned against the edge.

“How was it?”

“It went well. She was pleasant.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Not what she's typically known for.”

“Well, perhaps you ought to dress up as a lady and join the women's club.”

Moriarty chuckled a little but didn't laugh as much as she'd hoped. She told herself not to be disappointed. He was her teacher, her employer. He didn't owe her indulgement when it came to her poor sense of humor.

“Well, I just wanted to let you know, and to get any work I missed.”

Moriarty rubbed his temple like the thought caused him pain.

“Yes, we reviewed chapter sixteen, so take time to read that. I haven't spoken with Harrigan.”

“I'll go see him, I don't mind.”

Moriarty nodded but didn't respond. Instead, he held a hand to his mouth and stared at the back of the room in deep contemplation. Anora, conflicted over having just reminded herself of professional and academic boundaries, grew concerned.

“Sir, are you alright?”

His eyes moved to meet hers and he studied her a moment. Then he sighed.

“There have been some recent developments, some attempted sabotage, and we agreed that it would be for the best if you learned how to defend yourself.”

“We?”

“Moran and myself.”

The very thought of Moran teaching her hand to hand defense made Anors chuckle in spite of herself.

“You want me to learn self defense from a man who doesn't like me very much?”

The look he gave her froze her body. If it was a distant cousin to disappointment it still was too close for her liking. If it was fatigue or exasperation, that was just as bad.

“Anora, it's a job.”

Mortification hit her and she stuttered. Moriarty straightened from his spot against the desk.

“I'm-”

“Moran will perform his duties and he'll perform them well, as will you.”

She hated that moment more than anything. She looked at the floor next to them.

“Yes, sir.”

He approached her but she found as much interest in that spot on the floor as it took to avert her eyes.

“Anora, look at me.”

She did, and when she did, he gave her a small smile, and suddenly her professor was back. He put his hands in his pockets.

“I'm not chastising you. For the sake of our endeavors you need to know how to protect yourself.”

Anora nodded. “I understand. Tomorrow?”

“No. Likely Wednesday. You need a day to recover from missing class. If you fall behind academically I could never forgive myself. Don't bother with Harrigan this evening, I'll talk to him. A conversation is overdue anyway.”

“If you're sure…”

“Go on home, Anora. Catch up on the reading and I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Anora headed for the door, but not before Moriarty spoke one final time.

“Anora? You did very good work today. I think this is the start of something very exciting.”

Anora turned back and smiled.

“I think you might be right.”

#rdj sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock Holmes a game of shadows #game of shadows #james moriarty #john watson #mary watson #not a self insert #bc I'm bad at math and science #james Moriarty x oc #shut up #jared harris #hal still has jared harris brainrot

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