#and finding this out from another coworker above in work status who said the boss did not agree with this reasoning

[theoxvest]

Invasion of the Pearlheads

[foodbytesback]

The Rise and Fall of Bon Appetit

Sometimes life comes at you fast.  Sometimes, that means stories in the food industry break in such rapid succession that you have no time to blink in between.  Sometimes, it means someone found out about something racist you did a few years ago.  What happens when it’s both?  Ask the fine folks at Bon Appetit.

In recent years, Bon Appetit made a name for itself, rising from the ashes of dying print media, through its Youtube channel featuring a diverse cast of personalities.  But over the course of this past week, many of the publication’s executives have been found to foster a toxic workplace culture, rife with racism, sexism and homophobia.  

Before I get too deep (because this is going to be a long one), I feel the need to point out that while this story’s breaking happened to coincide with Black Lives Matter protests across the country and gained traction from people’s outrage towards inequality, the events that have unfolded should not be blamed on “cancel culture,” “political correctness run amok” or any other reactionary dismissal of critical thinking.  Adam Rapoport didn’t lose his job because Black Lives Matter, Black Lives Matter came to be because of the damage that many in positions of power like Rapoport have done in both mainstream media and society as a whole.

[Also, yes, there are going to be a lot of links to Instagram posts that have been screenshotted and uploaded to Twitter.  Clearly the real takeaway from this debacle is that I need to get an Instagram account.  Also also, thanks to Tumblr’s new rules about offsite links, you’ll have to go to my main site for the full receipts.]

Preamble

Shortly after the killing of George Floyd, Adam Rapoport, Editor-in-Chief at Bon Appetit, wrote an editorial highlighting some of the coverage they’ve given to black chefs.  Many criticized this as being superficial and performative, with others saying that BA has, on numerous occasions, shut down articles relating to black culture for not being “trendy” enough or otherwise was discriminatory towards black employees. (Also, the repeated use of “uprisings” instead of “protests” seems a little suspicious.)

An article from Eater criticized the role BA played in the appropriating and whitewashing of many cultures’ ingredients and cuisines (gochujang, Aleppo pepper, and sumac seem to be some of BA’s favorite ingredients) that had become prevalent in food media in recent years.

While it’s a fairly minor offense in comparison, it may also be worth bringing up the time Rapoport accidentally called Priya Krishna “Sohla,” the name of his other Indian employee.

Monday, June 8th

Food writer Tammie Teclemariam posted a screencap of an Instagram post made by Rapoport’s wife, which depicted the two of them donning Puerto Rican stereotypes as Halloween costumes, brownface and all.    

Many were quick to declare their outrage and demand that Rapoport either resign or be fired.  Meanwhile, Sohla El-Waylly, one of the leading stars of the Youtube channel, was one of the first BA employees to speak up, and disclosed that this kind of behavior was just the tip of the iceberg.  She said that BIPOC workers have been paid disproportionately for their work, including not being paid a per-video commission that the white stars of the Youtube channel receive. 

Molly Baz, one of the aforementioned white stars, announced that she would no longer make videos for BA until all of El-Waylly’s demands were met.  One by one, their white coworkers chimed in in agreement.  

Former staff photographer Alex Lau also wrote an extensive tweet thread about his experiences at BA, including how he had futilely tried to fix the system from within.

By the end of Monday, Adam Rapoport had resigned from his position as Editor-in-Chief.

Tuesday, June 9th  

Since Rapoport’s official resignation did little to fix many of the systemic problems in place at BA, many began to turn their attention to other senior members of the staff.

Some came for Andrew Knowlton, the Restaurant Editor, for behaviors such as gaslighting an employee for trying to bring up racist practices in the offices.

Others called out Matthew Duckor, a VP at Conde Nast and BA’s former “Head of Video” (Did a 3 year old come up with that job title?), for a series of old racist and homophobic tweets.  He tried to apologize by saying that he was young and didn’t know any better at the time, but many were quick to point out that he was, at the youngest, 20, aka for all intents and purposes An Adult when he wrote those tweets. 

Tammie Teclemariam returned to ask current and former BA employees to DM her information about Duckor that they didn’t want to go public with themselves, ranging from his hand in the aforementioned pay disparity to making inappropriate comments towards women.

Teclemariam also did even more social media muckraking and found that Drinks Editor Alex Delany had once decorated a cake to look like a Confederate flag, while others found things like a Vine where he says the f-slur and some questionable comments about women on this Tumblr.  He later deleted his Tumblr and Twitter, and issued a cookie-cutter apology on his Instagram.

She also vague-tweeted that Brad Leone, one of the most beloved stars of the Youtube channel, is “possibly not a great guy,” but later added, “don’t fret.” At that point, some began to accuse her of just trying to stir the pot.

Ultimately, Matt Hunziker, director and camera operator for Leone’s show, reported that the higher ups were ignoring the situation regarding the pay disparity, and that they were not “learning and growing.”

Wednesday, June 10th

By this point, journalists were able to do more thorough investigations and put together exposés that were more than a blurb about an accusation followed by a nut graph.

Business Insider published an article where they interviewed 14 current and former BIPOC employees of Bon Appetit.  In addition to information already discussed above, it also described events such as an incident where several BIPOC staffers were told they weren’t allowed the test kitchen. (Carla Lalli Music, the Food Director at the time, would later defend her stance in the affair on Twitter.)  Ryan Walker-Hartshorn, a black woman who served as Rapoport’s personal assistant, recalled that she would often spend her day doing menial tasks like polishing her boss’s golf clubs or trying to teach his wife how to use Google Calendar.  In another incident, Knolton called Rick Martinez a “one trick pony” for only developing Mexican recipes, which is what he was being forced to do so BA could tout “diversity” bonus points.  Martinez would also say that the magazine under Rapoport’s tenure “went from old and irrelevant and white-washed content to young and trendy white-washed content." (Martinez would also upload a more graphic description of the treatment he received  to his Instagram that same day.) Later that day, Business Insider would also report that Duckor had left the company.

Vice would liken Rapoport to Michael Scott from The Office, but noted that that kind of bumbling, endearingly insensitive bad boss archetype isn’t as charming in the real world where real employees are being affected.  Parallels were also drawn between the Youtube channel and The Office itself, stating that the “quirky workplace” facade put on in the videos helped hide the more sinister practices that lurked beneath the surface, and that the notion that they were “one big family” often pressured BIPOC into doing more than their fair share for the greater good.

Jezebel showed email transcripts where Rapoport argued the semantics of having his costume be called “brownface” when he wasn’t wearing makeup, and had to be explained to, like a child, that the term refers to the racist caricature and not the literal act of putting brown makeup on one’s face.  What a douche.

Bon Appetit published an official apology on their site, a whole two days after the controversy began.  Many believed that their empty promises of “learning from their mistakes” were a day late and a dollar short.

Meanwhile, on Twitter, former BA writer Alyse Whitney said that senior editor Andy Baraghani had, on several occasions, used his influence to undermine her efforts. Whether this had to do with racism, sexism, or just Andy being petty is up for debate, but still constitutes as unprofessional behavior to say the least.

Thursday, June 11th

As interest in the story seemed to wane for many in the industry, Claire Saffitz, arguably the face of the Youtube channel, released another statement on her Instagram.  She said that her relative silence was due to taking time to find the right words, and that the same-old promises to “learn and grow” that most had been giving felt empty and performative. Unlike many of her white coworkers, she directly apologized for being complicit in the toxic environment  and for not using her status to try to leverage even pay for her BIPOC coworkers.  

Another BA Youtube personality, Amiel Stanek, also released a statement in response to BA’s official press release, where he demanded Conde Nast to stop avoiding action by setting vague timelines for changes or making excuses for not giving BIPOC workers raises like “the money just isn’t there.”

Associate editor Christina Chaey also opened up about her experiences with being pushed into more and more videos to “diversify” them- all without compensation.  

Friday, June 12th

The biggest scandal of the day was that, as Teclemariam predicted, Brad Leone is possibly not a great guy.  A leaked screenshot of an Instagram DM showed him making callous, almost Trump-y comments regarding El-Waylly’s demand for better pay.  He also allegedly said that if Delany were to be fired (as of that day he had been sent on leave), he would quit.

Saturday, June 13th

The New York Times published an article suggesting that the issues prevalent in BA’s management may go all the way to the top of Conde Nast.  Highlights include Chief Executive Roger Lynch chastising the whistleblowers within the company for raising their concerns in such a public manner and an account of an incident where he gave his black assistant a guidebook on how to speak “proper” English.

The Sporkful released a special episode of their podcast containing interviews with several current and former BA BIPOC workers.  Nikita Richardson divulged that after she was laid off, a story she had already done all the leg work for was picked up and credited to Amanda Shapiro, a white staff writer who is now acting Editor-in-Chief in lieu of Rapoport.  Sohla El-Waylly confirmed that the self-congratulatory editorial Rapoport wrote in the wake of George Floyd’s death was the real beginning of the end, and that the racist photo was just the final straw.  She also described a company-wide Zoom meeting held after the photo began to be spread around where Rapoport issued a half-hearted apology, and began talking about how he would “fix the brand” before El-Waylly demanded he resigned.  Furthermore, she revealed that after her Instagram posts began circulating rapidly, Duckor had offered her a new contract with increased pay, but she is refusing to sign it until all BIPOC have received similar compensation.  She also said that she had a hand in the wishy-washy statement that BA had published on Wednesday, and said that it originally had taken much firmer stances on the issues but their PR office made them tone it down.  Also, she commented that Leone, for the most part, just seemed like she “genuinely think[s] [that he] just found out racism is real.”  Ultimately, she was glad that the story was getting as much coverage as it was, since it made her feel that her voice was finally being heard.

Sunday, June 14th

Baraghani released a statement on Instagram apologizing for his behavior, saying that trying to achieve his personal goals in BA’s toxic, competitive environment made him lose sight of solidarity with his fellow BIPOC.  

While that may seem like the end of the story for now, it’s important to note that, even with the resignation of two executives, nothing has truly been done to fix the systemic problems at hand.

[wouldpollyapprove]

I’m Not Like Her

Summary: Y/n never thought she’d take a job as a barmaid, but she had to do what she had to do. Fleeing from a mob in Aberdeen, she was willing to do anything to live a peaceful life. And if that meant working for the Shelby’s then so be it. Life was normal until the mob decided to make an appearance in Birmingham, leading Tommy start to believe Y/n wasn’t exactly who she said she was.

Request: 17 from humor and 4 from misc? With tommy please 🥺❤️

Requested by @jenepleurepasbaby

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Language, alcohol, violence, angst 

A/N: This is barely edited b/c I have no paitence for that, but I really like how this turned out. Oh, and the cocktail I mentioned is from the 1920s but I’m not sure if it was popular in the UK or not. Anyway, I hope you guys like it and sorry for the angst, I couldn’t help myself.

Part Two

Masterlist

The noise filled the air, keeping people focused on what they were doing. It was too loud for anyone to notice much more than what was in front of them due to the alcohol in their system. It was always like that in the Garrison on a Friday night. Men clocked out of work, grabbed a girl, and headed for the pub. That’s how it always went.

Y/n had no time to think about anything but cocktail recipes as she filled orders. The men of Small Heath ordered everything straight out of the bottle. Whether it be whiskey, gin, or rum, it was always served either plain or on the rocks with a splash of water. It all came down to how much they wanted to stumble when they walked out of the door. The woman that tagged along were the ones that wanted to drink something fancy. They wanted to be more than some dirt poor girl from the wrong side of town. A lady in a countryside manor or a duchess in a French Château is what they wanted to be.

And that is what Y/n tried her best to do, give them a piece of a reality that would never be theirs.

She was too busy filling orders to notice the men that had entered the bar. Their appearance was almost identical to that of the Peaky Blinders that frequented the streets. They all wore neatly pressed suits, bulky overcoats covering their suit. No suspicion would have been drawn if it weren’t for the hats that sat upon their heads. 

Handing over the fifth Sidecar she’d made in the last fifteen minutes, Y/n wiped her hands off on her apron. “Good Lord, is it ever gonna slow down?” 

Edith shook her head from beside her. “I fuckin’ wish. I’m sick of this Irish beer Arthur ordered. Everyones to pissed to realize it’s shit.”

Y/n chuckled, “That they are.” Her eyes wandered around the packed bar, landing in bursts on the drunks that stumbled around. Just as she was about to turn back to her work, her eyes landed on three well-dressed men at the door. All the blood drained from her face, turning it ash white. The tammies they wore picking them out of the crowd

“Are you alright?” Edith asked, turning from pouring another glass of whiskey on the rocks. 

Her coworker nodded, before glancing at the clock on the wall above them. “Yeah, yeah, I’m alright. I’m off in five-” Mary passed behind her, on time for her shift for once. “-and Mary’s here so I think I’m going to head home.”

She wasn’t given a second glance as she stripped her apron off and fetched her coat from the back room. Eyes followed her like a hawk until she reached the door. Y/n didn’t bother to look at the three men that stood in front of the door, she shoved past them, knowing they wouldn’t make a scene. 

With the door to the Shelby’s private room open, Tommy kept his eye trained on the men while he kept up with the conversation he was having with Michael. The grip on his glass tightened when Y/n appeared and shoved passed two of them. He would have thought that by the time Y/n got off the men would have ordered a drink and found a table, but the stood near the door like statues. Only moved, turning on their heels, when Y/n shoved them out of her way and followed a few feet behind her. 

It was odd. Everything about it was odd. The men that had entered the bar ten minutes before were odd. Tommy could have sworn he’d seen the men once before. London came to mind when he thought of them and how they’d dressed. But no one in London would be caught dead dressing like that. And the man found it odd how Y/n shoved passed them, something he knew she would never do.

Tommy and Y/n had an interesting relationship.

Tommy was in love with her, there was no way he could deny it. He could ignore it, though. After what happened with Grace two years before, he wasn’t sure he was ready to wear his heart on his sleeve. Every once and a while, a sharp pain would overtake his heart and make him remember why he was afraid to love so openly again. He tried though. He tried to do as much as he could for her with what he had. Tommy did his best to protect and behind closed doors, he showed her his heart.

But that could never be aired out in the open.

Thomas Shelby couldn’t have people seeing him weak over a woman. He couldn’t be seen once more being destroyed by the touched of a woman who’d betrayed him.

Y/n was much different than her lover. She was as loyal as they came and would never betray him, not when he owned her heart. Not one to love as few had ever shown her such a thing, she had no problem giving Tommy the love he deserved. She didn’t care about the blood on his hands or the damage caused by the war. She saw past his outward appearance and his tough exterior, loving who he was before and after damage had been done to his heart and soul.

Though he was concerned, there was business to be done and it couldn’t wait. No longer a believer, Tommy prayed to God that he wasn’t making a mistake for not following after her.

Stepping out onto the dirt-covered cobblestones, the cold air bit at her exposed skin as Y/n waited for the men to exit behind her. She turned when the door creaked open, more light pouring out onto the street.

The tallest of the three linked his arm with her’s, dragging her down the street, her protests drowned out by the sound of the other men lighting their cigars. Once he believed them to be far enough from prying eyes, in front of a factory that was closed for the night, he stopped and swung the girl in front of him. “Didn’t think I’d fin ya, did ya?”

“You fuckin’ bastard,” Y/n spat, pulling her arm out of his grasp. “What the fuck are you doing here, Roger?”

It had been ages since the two had last seen each other, parting onto a hill that overlooked Aberdeen, blood and tears on both their faces. They’d shared some good times, getting into all the trouble they could. They ran from the law in Edinburgh, jumping a train with a bottle of whiskey in their bag. Y/n stayed by his side when his father put him in charge of his family’s company and she watched him turn into a hungry monster, out for money and blood.

A laugh vibrated his chest, he leaned forward, moving a piece of curly hair out of her face. How he’d missed those curls of her’s. “I’ve come to ask for your help, love.”

Swatting his hand away from her face, she pushed him away, wishing to create distance between them. The men beside him, supposed to be his body guards, did nothing, believing she held no power. She rolled her eyes at their dismissals, Ed and Jim had never been very good at keeping their boss out of danger. “No fucking way will I ever help you.”

“Ya used to help with everything. There was nothin’ ya wouldn’t do fer me.”

“That was before you killed Charlie-” Y/n folded her arms across her chest, wrapping her coat around her tighter. “He was my friend, Roger.”

The man rolled his eyes. He never cared about what he had to do to keep his business running. “He was taking you from me.”

“Your brutish behavior was taking me away from you. Don’t confuse the two.” Y/n reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She waltzed around the men as she dug around for a lighter, knowing the men in front of her weren’t gentlemen and would never offer over their lighters. 

Before she could get her cigarette lite, a crash from the alley across from them caught everyone’s attention. Roger, Ed, and Jim reached under their coats for their weapons. Y/n turned to see a couple of Peaky boys walk out of the alley. She’d seen them before, they normally helped in the betting shop and had accompanied their boss to London a time or two. “Roger, don’t shoot them,” she demanded, trying to step in his way. 

The Peaky Blinders drew their own weapons, ready to fire if they had to. 

Y/n rolled her eyes. Why were men the way they were? Instead of staying and watching blood spill, she turned her back to the group of men. “Don’t do anything too stupid, Roger. No one here will save you arse,” she warned him, walking into the darkness of Small Heath.

*~~*~~*

The two Peaky Blinders that escaped unscathed from their encounter with Roger Flint, which was a relief. One of the men knew exactly who Roger was as he came from Scotland. He also knew how rare it was for Roger to let someone live in a firefight. 

With ragged breaths, the two men rushed into the Garrison and wasted no time to find Tommy. Their boss was still where he was when Y/n had left, leaning in his chair, cigarette between his lips and glass of whiskey in his hand. 

The Shelby’s all turned when Ricky entered the private room panting like a dog. “What the fuck happened to you?” John asked, a little laugh ending his sentence. 

“W-we were out… out by the factory,” he started, clutching his side. “And Roger Flint was out there with some of his men.”

“Y/n was there with ‘em,” the man beside him added.

The mention of her name forced Tommy to his feet, his glass shattered to the floor. “Was she hurt?”

Ricky shook his head. “No, no-” He took a deep breath, trying to expand his lungs. “She seemed to know him. Personally.”

Was that worse than being caught with a copper? The mobster hadn’t the faintest clue, but he didn’t like the sound of it. “Where is she now?”

The two men exchanged glances, surprised that they hadn’t been chewed out for leaving her. “Don know. She left, I think she went home.”

Dragging his hand over his face, Tommy sat back down. How did Y/n know Roger Flint? That wasn’t a man anyone knew casually. A sigh escaped his lips as he took Arthur’s drink. The alcohol burned his throat as he emptied the glass. He thought Y/n was nothing but honest with him, but that was clearly a lie. 

So there Tommy sat, his family exchanging worried glances from around the room, while all his fears washed over him like a raging river.

*~~*~~*

Y/n slept like a baby, Roger easily faded from her memory as she slept. He was never much to remember. The man was nothing but an overgrown baby trying to make a name for himself as a mobster. It was pathetic. All that went through her mind as she dressed for work was the amount of glasses she’d have to clean off of tables and the shattered glass that would need to be swept off the floor. 

As she did every morning, Y/n stopped by the small cafe around the corner from her house. She was never one for cooking and her kitchen didn’t permit more than a sandwich to be made. It always seemed to bring her joy, stopping in to get a scone, and chatting with the owner. It was the start she needed for what she knew would be a long day.

Once she was feed, Y/n wasted no time walking to work. Dodging children, who ran through the street like monkeys, and women gossiping as they headed to the market, she finally arrived at the doors of the Garrison. Fetching the key out of her purse, she dropped it back in when she found the door unlocked.

The Shelbys had obviously arrived before her.

A smile tugged at her lips upon entering the pub, memories from the night before playing in her mind. Though the place was a mess, she was happy to be at work then to be helping Roger. Anything was better than being in the same room as him. Her smile faltered when she caught a glimpse of Tommy behind the bar. His muscles were tight and there was fire in his eyes. He looked up at her and all Y/n could see was boiling anger. 

She did her best to send him a smile as she tugged off her coat, placing it on the bar. “Good morning, love.”

His knuckles turned white against the bottle of whiskey he’d grabbed off the shelf. “Don’t bother, Y/n,” he growled. 

The smile dropped to the floor along with her eyes. Roger clearly hadn’t killed the Blinders, damn. It would have been much easier to pretend that her time with the Scottish mobster never happened then to ever have to explain it to the man she loved. “What’s wrong, Tommy?” she asked, deciding it would be easier to play dumb. 

It was a long shot, but there was a chance she could get the man to believe her word over that of his men.

Tommy shot her a dangerous look. A warning that stated he wouldn’t believe a thing she said. “Who were you with after work last night?”

“No one.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not,” she snapped. 

There was a pause, making Y/n nervous, as Tommy opened the bottle of whiskey and poured it into the glass in front of him. The pub was silent while he sipped at it before he placed it back on the bar. “Let’s not play this game. I know a liar when I see one, Y/n, because I’m a liar.”

Y/n rolled her eyes at his words. “What do you want me to say? That I was with someone that wasn’t you?”

“Don’t play dumb, Y/n. Flint is the fucking enemy! And there you were waltzing’ around with him! How fuckin’ loyal!” he yelled and in a fit of rage grabbed his glass and threw it at the wall beside him. “I thought you were better than her, turns out you’re the same type of snake.”

His words burned against Y/n’s ear, causing her heart to shrivel up in pain. “Bite me,” she seethed. Before any more damage could be done, she reached for her coat and ran out the door., shouting, “I quiet,” on her way out.

How fucking stupid could she be, thinking she outrun away from Roger? He would always come back to haunt her. 

The door slammed behind her and once her feet hit cobblestone, she ran like a freight train, dropping her coat as she gained speed. She needed to create as much distance between her and Thomas Shelby as she could. God, she hoped to never see his face again.

Running along the streets of Small Heath, people shot her confused looks and moved out of her way as they saw nothing would stop her. Y/n ran, one foot in front of the other until her legs gave way and she tumbled to the ground. She pushed herself off the ground, sobs racked her body as she wandered into an alley, sliding down the wall of the brick building beside her.

“I’m not like her,” she muttered to herself between sobs. “I’m not like her.”

What Tommy didn’t know, was Roger was a no one to her. He had been nothing for a long time and she never planned on allowing him back in her life, not after all the pain he caused. But it was too late to explain that now. She had been labeled a traitor and there was no way to scrub that off.

The words tattooed across her forehead and the pain in her heart were nothing compared to the pain she felt for hurting Tommy as she did. He trusted her and, slowly, he was starting to recover from what Grace had done to him only for it to happen once more.

It killed her to think that she had done then one thing she swore to never do.

*~~*~~*

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[immortalcoelacanth]

Conductor x Oblivious!Reader Oneshot: Is it Still Called a Ship if it Involves a Train?

My muse is all over the place and I have tons of ideas, my mind cannot contain them all and I don’t know how I wrote this. Also as a heads up I’ve been thinking about backing up my other reader oneshots on Tumblr on AO3 just in case something happens, so if you see them there don’t be surprised. 

Wordcount: 2791

Summary: The Conductor loved his train and wanted it in peak condition, that was why he visited the repair shop so much, and of course you were always the technician who checked everything, you specialized in trains after all! It only made sense!

Now, what didn’t make sense was how oblivious you were to his feelings. 

“The Conductor’s back?! Again?! I thought we just checked out the train last week! Everything was fine!” 

“Maybe he blew some of it up again? Like in that one movie?”

“I doubt it! He’s just train crazy!”

You let out a chuckle at the banter between your coworkers as you clicked away your computer, scanning through the active tickets and what needed to be done after. You worked in a repair shop for all sorts of vehicles. Most of the customers had cars that needed to be checked out, but some had more unusual modes of transportation. 

Like the Conductor and his train. 

He was one of the more… interesting customers you had interacted with. He was loud, very loud, and self-centered. 

Not that he was ever rude to any of your coworkers, or your boss, but you assumed this was because you were the ones responsible for keeping his train in tip top shape. 

Granted, the pool of people responsible for the maintenance and upkeep of his train had slowly dwindled until you were practically the only one checking it out. This was mainly due to the fact that you were the one on site who was the most knowledgeable about trains, they had been your passion since you were a child, and… 

Well, for some reason the Conductor always wanted you to be the one doing the work. 

You assumed this was for consistency’s sake, and the fact that it would make it far easier for him to get to know you as it was generally a good idea for a mechanic and their long term customer to have a good relationship, but he was surprisingly insistent about it even if there were long wait times. 

Fortunately he was never rude to your coworkers while he waited, nor did he insist on rushing anything. He just waited patiently for his turn and occasionally spoke to some other customers about his movies, being surprisingly polite when one of them mentioned not having seen them. 

Which was very out of character according to some of your coworkers, and speaking of them-

“Hey! You got Conductor’s ticket again?” The coworker nearest to you asked, their overalls stained with oil and grime, as were their feathers. “Since he’s just gonna bug us until we ask you to…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll cover it!” You quickly nodded while walking over to them. “Do you know what he’s coming in about?” “I dunno, something about his train sounding weird earlier.” They shrugged. “According to the boss he didn’t sound super worried or anything, but he insisted on coming in later today.”

“CAW!” You both jumped at the sudden noise and spun around, facing the newest arrival of the slowly forming group. Towering above the both of you was yet another coworker.

Or, perhaps croworker would be a more accurate title to call her by. 

She crossed her wings and glared down at you. “Are you the reason why he’s back, again?! I thought you fixed everything the last time he was here!”

“I did!” You insisted, taking a step back and raising your hands defensively. “Everything was fine when he left, and I didn’t see any problems other than cosmetic damage in the first place!”

The occasional bump and scrap was much better than the broken up and busted train that had been brought in one day, the Conductor sheepishly scratching the back of his head as he briefly mentioned something about a filming incident. 

You had cried true, honest tears upon seeing all that damage. That poor, poor train. 

The Crow stared at you for a moment longer before leaning down and asking a rather strange question. “Did you say yes or no then?”

“... To what?” You countered, extremely confused. Your confusion grew when she threw her wings up into the air and stomped off, yelling something about dense bird brains.

“I wonder what’s up with her?” Your other coworker mused, and you offered them a weak shrug before getting back to work. 

Hours passed and eventually the train engine belonging to the Conductor appeared in the front of the shop. Already, you could hear the mumblings and grumbling of the train being immaculate, and it was fine before, followed by a why is he here?

Even your boss seemed to be a bit annoyed at the Conductor’s insistence on getting the train looked over, and probably would have scolded the bird if it were not for how much money the shop made off of him. 

It was a lot of money. 

You were snapped out of your musings when you heard that accented voice grow louder, indicating that he was getting closer. You quickly dusted off your overalls, smiled that signature, customer service smile, and made your way towards the source of the shop’s annoyance. 

And then there he was. 

The Conductor. 

There was no mistaking his short stature and the brightness of his feathers. Although, something that was quite unusual was the bag he was carrying with him, the plastic giving away nothing about what item might be contained inside. He was looking around the shop, trying to find something from the look of it, but the moment his gaze landed on you-

“There yer are!” He called out, waving eagerly as he practically ran over to see you. You instinctively smiled and waved back. 

It was good to be polite to customers, especially someone who spent as much money as the Conductor, but you also enjoyed your talks with him. Watching him ramble about his train and his experiences driving it were always fun, and you had learned that he was a magnificent storyteller. 

You missed the way one of your coworkers elbowed the other while quietly whispering something to get, getting a laugh out of the one they had spoken to. 

“Hello, Conductor!” You cheerfully greeted, smile immediately growing more genuine at the thought of being able to chat with him once again. “So, what’s going on with the train?”

“Well, erm… me train started soundin’ a bit… off.” He explained, sounding strangely nervous as he discussed what the problem was. “Can yer check the engine?”

“So you think the sounds were coming from the engine? Not the wheels?” You pressed, leaning forward as your eyes narrowed in concern. “Did you do anything to the train? Any… intense activities?”

Did you blow up your train again?

“N-Nae!” He quickly objected, quickly shaking his head. “Nothin’ like that! Just strange sounds. Can... can yer help?”

“I can take a look and tell you what I find.” You said, getting a toothy grin out of the Conductor. 

“Yer an angel.” The bird sighed, sounding quite relieved at your offer. “If yer’d like ta know more-”

“Of course I would!” You immediately replied as you made your way over to the train. “You and I need to have a long chat about what you’re worried about, and I’ll keep you updated on the status of the train. I’m assuming you’ll be waiting here?”

“Aye!” The Conductor was quick to nod, secretly happy to be able to spend more time with you.

You were definitely the best part about visiting this shop. Your personality was so bubbly and warm, but you also were not afraid to put rude customers in their place as he had seen you do on multiple occasions. You were smart and confident, yet you were also very humble and compassionate. 

Far more compassionate than he was, and he knew this. He knew how rude he could be at times, the Receptionist had scolded him on multiple occasions about his behavior, but… 

Every reason that caused him to act the way he did, his inner insecurities and worries and fears that bubbled up and filled his mind to the brim with their screaming seemed to fade whenever he was around you. 

You and your questions about his movies and his train, about the stories that he had memorized to tell his grandchildren over and over again. He knew he would get mocked if he ever voiced such feelings, so he always kept them hidden and to himself. 

Although, his feelings were not quite as hidden as he had hoped for since it seemed as though most of the workers in the repair shop had figured out why he was so insistent on you being the one to look over his train. That, and the smug looks some of them sent his way.

Especially that one Crow…

He was shaken out of his thoughts when he noticed you making your way over to the train, and he quickly rushed over to join you, the bag on his arm swaying. That’s right, he still needed to give you that, too. 

But first, train inspection. 

Together, you both climbed up the side of the train, with you taking a moment to make sure the Conductor was still following you, before making your way inside. You were unable to stop the impressed noise from escaping you as you took in the interior of the train engine, all the high tech glowing buttons and levers covering the main console. It was so easy to imagine how amazing it must feel to drive this train, the sheer amount of power and speed.

It left you breathless. 

… But, the interior was as spotless as it had been the last time you had seen it. Granted, you had not thoroughly checked anything yet, but the sheer amount of light reflecting off of the metallic surfaces, and the general lack of dirt and grime led you to believe that the problem was not here. 

And your hypothesis was proven soon enough as, after spending nearly an hour looking over all the intricate mechanisms, and chatting with the Conductor, you did not find anything that was damaged or showed signs of potentially causing problems. 

You let out a concerned hum and looked at the Conductor, not really registering how some of his feathers took on a more reddish hue, nor how he seemed to anxiously mess with his suit. Without a word, you made your way out of the train and moved to inspect the massive wheels, assuming that the problem might be there.

Nope.

Nada.

Nothing.

“There… there isn’t anything I can see wrong.” You slowly concluded as you backed away from the train. “No breaks, no other forms of damage, no malfunctioning parts, nothing.”

“Aye? Erm, well, perhaps yer should take yer time? Try not to rush and give yerself a break-” The Conductor rambled as you practically glared at the train, as if trying to force it to give up all its secrets. 

Where, where could that problem be?

You crossed your arms as you contemplated how to best solve this problem. The engine was… fine. Nothing seemed to be out of place or broken, nor were there any leaks or other signs of potential sources of problems. It was downright immaculate, what you had come to expect from the Conductor, but you knew you would not rest until you figured out what the problem was. 

It was a source of pride for you, how thorough your work was, and it helped that your boss rewarded you for your efforts. Not knowing whether the train was actually fine or not would… nag at you. 

Immensely. 

Although, given the fact that the train was stationary and the Conductor claimed to have heard those strange noises when he had been driving it, it was possible that the problem would not show itself unless the train was moving. Something that might be caused by stress, or even a poorly connected section of the tracks. 

You clapped your hands together as you came up with an idea. Yes! That would work perfectly! Excitement filling you at the prospect of your plan, you turned to the Conductor and spoke. 

“Can you give me a ride?”

The reactions to your question were… varied, to say the least. 

You heard one of your coworkers break down laughing hard enough to the point where they started coughing, you heard what sounded like someone facepalming hard enough to leave a mark, and as for the Conductor-

He squawked, loudly. 

The feathers on his face took on a more reddish hue, especially around his cheeks and forehead, and his maw hung open in what you assumed to be surprise. The feathers on the side of his head also seemed to have fluffed up at some point. It made him look…

Cute. 

“I might be able to find the problem if I’m with you when the train is moving.” You explained, watching as the red flush faded from the Conductor’s feathers. “So, would it be okay if I joined you on your next train ride?”

“Erm-course!” The Conductor quickly replied, still strangely flustered. “When… when should I pick yer up, then?”

“Hmm…” 

Obviously you needed to conform to his schedule since you had a feeling his days were pretty busy between running his train and filming movies, plus you were certain you could haggle your boss into covering how many hours you were there for.

“How about I spend the day with you?” You suggested. “That way I have plenty of time to check out the train without interrupting your schedule. Does that sound good?���

“Yer… yer be wantin’ ta spend the whole day…?” The feathers around the Conductor’s face started taking on that reddish hue once again. “From sunrise ta sunset?” 

“For as long as you’ll have me!” You answered with a nod. “And you can tell me to leave if I start bothering you.”

“Nae! Nae! That won’t be a problem!” The Conductor quickly objected as he flailed his feathery hands. “Yer can spend as long as yer want on… me train-”

Wow, I wonder why his voice cracked like that…

“Alright, it’s a date, then!” Once again you were oblivious to how his face flushed as he replied with his own, eager nod. Instead all you could think of was how wonderful it would be to ride a train across the tracks, see the sights and feel that wonderful breeze. 

“Ah, and I got yer somethin’ as thanks fer keepin’ me train in top shape.” The Conductor added as he reached into the plastic bag from earlier and pulled out a small cactus. 

“I remember yer mentionin’ that yer liked deserts, so-” He started to explain before he was cut off by you quickly picking up the cactus to inspect it. 

“I love it, and that’s so sweet!” The cactus was so tiny and round and just… looked adorable! You smiled brightly at the Conductor and instinctively reached out to hug him. “Thank you!” 

His suit felt surprisingly soft and warm as you wrapped an arm around him for the hug, careful to keep the cactus away so neither of you got accidentally pricked. His feathers were pretty soft, too, and you just barely managed to restrain yourself from impulsively running a hand through them. 

“Yer… yer welcome.” He mumbled, still blushing furiously. 

“I need to find somewhere safe to put this so it doesn’t break. Oh! I also need to find a good spot to put it when I get home, or maybe I can keep it here and it can be our little mascot!” You rambled as you made your way over to the staff room, too distracted to remember to say goodbye to the flustered bird. 

The Conductor just stood there, maw open in surprise at the fact that you had hugged him.

Oh god, you hugged him. You actually hugged him. 

He was dazed, stunned, and frozen on the spot as the memory of you hugging him replayed itself over and over in his mind. How warm you were, how bright your smile was. 

It was nice to see you smile, see you so cheerful and happy. 

He wanted to see that smile again. 

As the Conductor stood in place, too surprised to move, the operations of the repair shop slowly resumed. Technicians and mechanics got back to their assigned vehicles, and even the music that had been quietly playing in the background increased in volume. Of course, this also meant that conversations resumed, including ones focused on the interaction that had just taken place. 

“So,” The Crow began, leaning down towards one of her coworkers and whispering to them. “Are we shipping them, or do we call it something else since there’s a train?”

The resulting laughter could easily be heard by you in the staff room, leaving you confused as to what they were laughing at, and somewhat concerned as to what might have happened. 

Oh well, you had to get ready for your date tomorrow with the Conductor anyways.                                     xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Maybe I'll write a follow up to this, maybe not~

I hope you all enjoyed reading!

- ImmortalCoelacanth

[labyrinthof-fan-fiction]

(When Your Heart’s on Fire) Smoke Gets in Your Eyes

Geraskier 50s AU

Summary: Geralt just wanted a calm night at the club, a drink in one hand, a cigar in the other. Then that crooner, Jaskier, took the stage. Post WWII, Geralt is still adjusting to life as a civilian.

Companion One Shot of Jaskier seeing Geralt for the first time here.

Warnings: PTSD mentions, Alcohol Consumption

A/N: I warned you all that this was going to happen, we’re going to be thriving off this Vera Lynn playlist for a long time. Also I’ve made Roach into a cat for this, why not? Inspiration: Vic Damone’s (When Your Heart’s on Fire) Smoke Gets in Your Eyes. His version was recorded in 1956, but the song has existed since 1933. Look his voice is to die for and exactly how I’d imagine crooner Jaskier would sound. Because I love Joey, but crooner Jaskier would be a hell of a baritone with a beautiful falsetto.

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Witcher. I don’t own ‘Smoke Gets in Your Eyes’

Word Count: 2,340

Geralt had a long day, hell a long week. Adjusting to civilian life after the war had taken its toll on him. Going back to his job in the factory had not been as easy as he had planned. Shell shock was what they had called it when they found him curled in a ball in the bathroom after a machine had let out a violent blast. His shaking hands wrapped around his head, eyes searching for the shrapnel that never came.

After that incident he had been taken off the floor and placed in an office. He despised the office. They even had the audacity to require him to come to work in a shirt and tie everyday. “It’s what an office man wears.” They had said. “You can always go somewhere else.”

He wasn’t about to tell them he had never wanted to be an office man, that their absurd notion of moving him to a desk job was an act of service to him for his own act of service, was an insult. Because in the end, he needed a job. He didn’t have a wife or child to care for, but he had a cat, and the cat had to eat. Roach, his mangy tom cat, provided him with companionship, in turn Geralt provided him with a meal.

He was constantly badgered by his coworkers about his bachelor status. “How haven’t you found a little lady to settle down with?” One would say.

“A man like you would have no trouble getting some little thing to fall in love with you.” Another would chime in.

“You’ll grow tired of the bachelor status soon enough.” His boss would say, “Nothing like comin’ home to a house with a woman to take care of you.”

“You better tie down that dark haired beauty you always bring to functions.” Another would chime in.

He would nod his head and mumble something about just not having found the right girl yet. But he knew, he would never find the right girl, because he wasn’t looking for a girl. And that was a fact that he would not share around the water cooler. That alone would send him out the door, and he was not going to test his luck. Being home with his cat was depressing, he knew this because his best friend, Yennefer, constantly reminded him of this fact.

He was thankful for her, whenever he needed a date for a company function, she would be there. A beautiful woman to hang off his arm, then go their separate ways when the night came to an end. She was determined to forge her own way into the world, without a husband. A revolutionary idea, if you asked Geralt. And he was always ready to step in if she required a man to stand beside her. Most men would feel used and sour if they were a face to help a woman further herself, but Geralt felt honored she trusted him. Occasionally he felt guilty that she needed him at all. She was the person who turned him on to the club and since that he spent each night there.

The club was comfortable, tucked away in a back area of the city. Far away from the traditional areas, a small nook in the middle of chaos. To most people, it would have seemed a normal club with a bar and tables scattered about the walls, a small dance floor in the middle, a stage front and center. But Geralt knew that the women at the bar, chatting and smiling were not just good friends, and when they left, they weren’t going to go separate ways. The men at the table in a dark corner were not conducting an under the table business deal. But Geralt had one reason for being in the club every night, and he was on stage.

Jaskier, was his name, it took Geralt three weeks to get the courage to approach him. A slight blush crept up his neck when he remembered the night he finally introduced himself to the singer. After far too much alcohol, of course.

Geralt was frustrated from work, one of the younger men announced his engagement. Now this should not have bothered him, it usually didn’t. Engagements and weddings were so common that there was a constant supply of cigars passed in the office. No the boy’s engagement didn’t put him off. His boss did.

The men all sat down, with glasses of scotch and cigars toasting to the happy couple. This was fine, a normal occurrence. His boss started poking at him. “All these young men settling down, what about you Geralt?”

“Maybe sometime.” Geralt answered emptily. There wasn’t going to be a sometime, not for him.

And this is the sulky attitude he took to the club that night. Jaskier was on stage, singing his set of tunes. His baritone voice floating above the smoke, piercing through Geralt’s clouded mind. His voice grounded Geralt, brought him out of his attitude, and redirected his attention to the man on stage. He was in a deep blue suit, cream shirt, and a pink bowtie. Not Geralt’s style, but it was Jaskier’s. “Hmmmmm.” Geralt mumbled as he listened to Jaskier’s voice float around the room for an hour as he nursed a drink, then another, and then he couldn’t remember how many. The crowd began to clap and cheer as Jaskier wrapped up his set for the day. Geralt joined them, letting out a wolf whistle.

The man onstage bowed and leapt lightly off the edge of the stage and headed to the bar. He easily made his way through the patrons and placed his forearms on the bar. “Sidecar, Andy.” He said to the bartender who nodded and began to mix the drink.

Jaskier’s hazel eyes turned to Geralt, a few stools away. His eyes slowly scanned the larger man up and down until they made their way back up to Geralt’s eyes. A flicker of something burned in the singer’s eyes, but Geralt could not place it before the man turned away to accept his drink from the bartender.

Geralt sighed. They had been doing this same dance for a while now. But tonight, Geralt was putting an end to it. He slammed the last of the glass of whiskey in his hand and stood. His head spinning slightly. He closed his eyes and counted to ten before moving into the bar stool next to the other man.

“Nice set.” He said gruffly, panic setting in. He had never approached a man before. Sure he had wanted to, but he hadn’t.

Jaskier took a sip of his drink. Silence wrapping around the two men as Jaskier sized Geralt up. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“You always put on a great show.” Geralt managed to spit out. In his mind he was being suave, in reality. He was a goddamn mess.

“I try.” Jaskier said, taking another sip. Geralt trying to come up with something to keep the conversation from dying. “Have a bite with me?”

Geralt’s eyes widened and he nodded. The singer chuckled and nodded to the bartender. Jaskier stood and put a hand on the larger man’s forearm. “Let’s go to a table.”

Geralt followed the other man blindly to the table where they fell into a conversation. Well, Jaskier spoke and Geralt listened. Geralt wouldn’t be able to tell you what they said, what they shared, the mix of alcohol and excitement erased everything but the fact that he spent time with the singer.

After that night, the two fell into a pattern. Geralt would sit at the bar through Jaskier’s sets for the night. When he was finished they would get food and sit at a table, talking until closing. Some days they would talk about nonsense, others they would talk about their families, their pasts. They had both served in the War, Jaskier and been further from the front than Geralt. They both no longer had ties to their families. Geralt would tell him of Roach’s most recent adventures and catches. He would talk about his job.

Jaskier would listen to every word Geralt would say, and Geralt loved him for it. Geralt shook his head slightly. He loved him. He loved Jaskier. He’s in love with Jaskier. This had not been an easy conclusion for him to come to. It took him almost a month to process. Yennefer had laughed at him when he bore his soul to her.

“Took you long enough.” She said, taking a sip of the milkshake in front of her. She always insisted they meet in. For ‘appearences sake’ she said. Geralt had a feeling that she didn’t come there for just the burgers, but he wasn’t one to pull information from her.

And so he found himself leaving work to head to the club. The club Jaskier was singing in. The club that he was going to tell the singer that he loved him in. His heart beat in his chest as he made his way downtown. He pulled at the tie around his neck until it was loose enough for him to breathe.

He entered the club, giving a quick greeting to the doorman, who gave a slight tilt to his head as Geralt rushed past him. Geralt glanced around the room. His normal spot at the bar was filled by a woman he recognized, Yennefer. She looked up at him, her eyes twinkling as she raised her glass to him. He glanced around, the only seat he could see was at the table by the stage. He sighed and made his way there, the bartender brought his usual drink to him. The band was warming up onstage, Jaskier was no where to be seen. Odd, Geralt thought, Jaskier regularly would be front and center for sound checks.

The lights in the room dimmed. And Jaskier made his way onto the stage. Geralt felt his heartbeat speed up. Jaskier made his way to the mic, wearing the same suit he had when they first met. Even with that damn pink bowtie.

“Good evening everyone.” Jaskier said into the mic. “Tonight, we are going to start out with a song for a special someone.” A few whistles broke out from the crowd. Jaskier winked in Geralt’s direction and nodded to the piano player who began a flourish of notes, fast paced arpeggios rang out from the baby grand. Jaskier put one hand on the mic and took a deep breath.

“They asked me how I knew

My true love was true

I of course replied

Something here inside, cannot be denied”

Jaskier placed a hand over his heart. Geralt’s eyes did not leave Jaskier’s. Did this mean what he thought it did? He nervously pulled at the collar of his shirt, suddenly it felt too tight. They must have fixed the heating in the club this week.

“They said "someday you'll find all who love are blind"

When your heart's on fire,

You must realize, smoke gets in your eyes”

He winked into the crowd, causing one of the cigar smokers to blow a large puff of smoke towards the stage.

“So I chaffed them and I gaily laughed

To think they could doubt my love”

He raised an eyebrow at Geralt.

“Yet today my love has flown away,

I am without my love,”

He glanced into the crowd, a forlorn gaze, before his trademark smile broke out across his face.

“Now laughing friends deride”

Jakier gave a slight tilt to his head, causing Geralt to look back to the bar where Yennefer sat.  A Cheshire grin splitting her face. She raised her glass and took a sip.

“Tears I cannot hide

So I smile and say

When a lovely flame dies, smoke gets in your eyes

Smoke gets in your eyes"

Jaskier smiled he finished holding out the final note, Stephen, the pianist, brought the tune to a close with a tremolo on the final chord. The crowd erupted into cheers, several people standing, but Geralt remained in his seat. Jaskier’s eyes stayed locked with his, Jaskier finally broke their contact by turning to the crowd.

“Now, let’s get this started.” The band erupted into a fast tune, carrying couples to the dance floor. Geralt stayed in his seat, nursing his drink. He knew, without a doubt that he loved that man up on stage. The set came to a close and Jaskier leapt from the stage to stand in front of Geralt.

“I love you.” Geralt said, not giving the other man the chance to say anything.

“Oh thank God. I was hoping I didn’t just sing you a love song and you didn’t have feelings for me.” Jaskier said, Geralt paused for a moment. “I love you too.”

Jaskier held his hand out to Geralt, who looked at it, confused. “Hmmm?”

“Dance with me.” Jaskier said, and Geralt would not deny him. He would never be able to deny Jaskier anything.

They made their way to the middle of the dance floor, Stephen played a lilting slow introduction on the piano, the band following him. Jaskier placed one hand on the back of Geralt’s neck, the other guiding Geralt’s hands to his waist. Once he had Geralt situated he brought the other hand up to wrap his arms around the taller man’s neck, causing Geralt to look down at the man in his arms. Geralt’s mind blanked and he found himself leaning down to the other man, Jaskier closed the distance between them, locking his lips onto Geralt’s.

Geralt tightened his hold on Jaskier, deepening the kiss. Jaskier pulled away for air, pressing his forehead to Geralt’s. They remained silent, wrapped in each other’s arms as the band played on. For the moment all that mattered was the man in their arms and the love they felt. The reality of the world was a problem for another time, for all who love are blind.

[silenthillmutual]

I don't know if you're the right person to tell this to but I think my mom's emotionally abusive. She gets mad whenever I get upset at her and gaslights me(probably??) whenever I call her out. I tried to tell her that she never apologized for hurting my feelings and she responded with, "I don't have to apologize to you" and it just made me feel worse. My family's Christian and all but I'm scared to tell the pastor(or anyone) because I don't want her to get mad at me. Do you have any advice?

I guess I’m a decent source for that, and I’ve got enough spoons today to answer this! 

I’ll be honest with you, a parent reacting with anger whenever you get upset with them is never a good sign. The “I don’t have to apologize to you” response is definitely emotionally abusive, especially if it’s not a reaction in a vacuum; anything as an isolated incident is understandable since we all make mistakes, but this doesn’t sound like a one-off thing. 

I had a couple of friends help me through being gaslit myself; here are a few articles on the topic, all of which are pretty brief:

Were You Born Under the Gaslight?

11 Warning Signs of Gaslighting

a resource post from r/RaisedByNarcissists

I’m not a psychologist in any capacity, but having been through it myself and having sat down and watched a film adaptation from where the term hails, here’s a sort of brief rundown of some things gaslighters will do to their victims:

making attempts to isolate you (from friends, from family members, etc; ex, excessive monitoring of your communications with friends to the point of taking your phone or computer so you can’t contact them, although this may be done subtly)

telling you that you have traits or attributes that do not feel or sound like things you do (ex, telling you that you are “forgetful” or “tend to lose things” even when you are not a forgetful person)

accusing you of lying, whether directly or indirectly (ex. asking, “what did you do with x thing?”, not believing you when you say you haven’t seen it; then when you find it, saying something to the effect of, “so you did know where it was”)

saying things with emotion and then denying there is any emotion behind their words (ex. if they say something to you in an angry way and when you say, “don’t be angry,” they say, “i’m not angry” and look at you like you’re crazy)

making you look bad in front of others (this can be making you look like a jerk, making you look inconsiderate, making you look foolish, like a buzzkill, etc.)

taking on a tone to imply that you are scaring them, even when you have not done or said anything out of the ordinary (if you’re thinking to yourself, “i didn’t even have any emotion behind this, i didn’t even sound angry” and they’re reacting like they’re afraid you’re going to hit you? that’s gaslighting)

whiplash mood swings and honeymooning - quickly going from being angry at you to putting on a convincing happy act in front of others; “honeymooning” is when, after a period of abuse, they start to act really nice and considerate towards you, making you think that they’ve changed, or maybe they do one really nice thing for you as a way to “make up” for their behavior (this never lasts, don’t buy it.)

turning themselves into the victim of every situation (guilt tripping you, especially in situations where you are telling them that they have hurt you. parents really love this one; it’s the “oh so i’m a horrible parent” comeback to any time you’ve ever said “this really hurt my feelings”)

infantalizing you (another parental favorite)

upsetting you in public, covertly, so that only you are aware of what they have said/done

threatening you with institutionalization

Another big one that I don’t think I mentioned here because it’s not one that came up in the film is outright denying that something ever happened. We tend to assume that’s something we’d be able to catch outright, but the truth of the matter is that their lies start out small and they do all of these things above & more for the sake of putting you off balance and confusing you so that by the time their lies get to the level of things you should be able to look at and say plainly, “that’s not true,” you’ve gotten to the point where you feel like you can’t trust your own memory or judgement of things. 

I’ll give a couple examples because the list of potential things they could lie about goes between fairly small stuff to extreme stuff:

my mother claimed once that she was never on her phone during dinner

my mother claiming she’d never seen movies that not only did i remember her commentary on, but i’m pretty sure one of them we actually saw in theatres

her claiming i’d never told her things that i most definitely had told her before

combined with that one: lying about the last time we’d had contact; right before i cut off all contact with her i was able to actually screenshot the dates and times of the last time we’d spoken and send them to her

lying about actual historical facts; in my mother’s case: refusing to acknowledge that ABA had, since its inception, used aversives and was abusive in practices, was the foundation of the conversion therapy movement. i sent her screenshot and link proofs of this as well and she did not appreciate it

she also claimed that she never threatened to kick me out of the house and claimed that i promised her i would start therapy before starting HRT - neither of which are accurate or even remotely believable (you really think i’d up and move w two weeks notice halfway across the country if i hadn’t been kicked out? i have to laugh.)

Another one that did not really get shown well in the film but that I believe i’ve read somewhere and have personal experience with, is that they like to keep you traumatized. It keeps you in a state of like... uncertainty, I guess you could say. It keeps you from feeling completely lucid or in control of things, and more likely to need help and depend on them for continued support. They may also be likely to mess with your head in other ways, like with the use of drugs - and I don’t just mean illegal ones; parents who have control over your medication and make sure you take it do have to potential to keep you up on medications you don’t actually need as a method of control. (Both of these can actually be seen in use in the film Midsommar w/ the suicide ritual being a method of continued trauma and the constant drug use being...obvious. I’m sure it gets used in other places too but that was the first one to come to mind, and Aster does a really good job of showing how effective that shit is.)

I don’t really know what other religions rules are like when it comes to confidentiality. I was raised Catholic, and there was a certain understanding about priests and ethics that pretty much went that unless you had a warrant (and on top of that, a damn good reason; iirc there have been plenty who don’t even testify under oath) they weren’t to tell anyone what you told them in confidence. If you know anything about their ethics regarding that or even feel that you can ask them safely about it, it could be a good place to start if you feel that church community is one where you feel safe. 

The biggest roadblock tbh is age and...idk how else to put this other than status? If you’re a minor there is, unfortunately, not a lot you can do to get away from her or get her to stop - especially if you’re in a situation where she’s really your only parent. Which is sort of what I meant by status; do you have another parent or step-parent, sibling, uncle, aunt, cousin, etc  you feel you could talk to about it? 

I really wish I could recommend school guidance counselors, but I’m not altogether sure they’re equipped with the right materials to help you out there. That being said, if you have a family member that you can trust to help you find a therapist outside of school, that would also be a really good resource; whether you’re an adult still living within that contact or a minor who can’t get away at the moment, a therapist can help you come up with some coping techniques to deal with it until you can safely get away. I’d suggest looking for one who specializes in trauma or in PTSD, esp if they have c-PTSD listed (the ‘c’ is for complex, which is a proposed addition(??) to PTSD that would separate a singular traumatic event from an ongoing traumatic situation like living in war zones, being a POW, domestic violence, etc). PsychologyToday has a search function for finding accredited therapists in your area that should list their specialties, credentials, and insurance plans they take. (And if you’re asked why you need one, honestly, extrapolate on a minor issue. Like tbh you could just say body image issues.) Therapists are bound by license-revoking ethics not to tell anyone what you discuss in therapy unless you are going to hurt yourself or someone else.

[If you feel you’re being monitored too closely at home and don’t have a way to get this information at school, I suggest asking a reference librarian to help you out. A lot of public libraries will have community resource information, and if they don’t have flyers or brochures out, reference librarians’ entire jobs are to help you access information whether that’s in the library or in the community! That’s why I work in LIS, lol.]

Other than that the two big pieces of advice I have are:

Build up a support network outside your family. If you feel you can’t trust them with this, or even if you’re worried about putting them in the middle of a difficult situation - and even if those aren’t concerns for you - it’s always good to have a support network that isn’t connected to the situation in some way. Most of my support network came from friends, a bulk of whom I knew from online, and from coworkers. The first person to tell me I was being gaslit was actually a coworker, who I talked to when I got kicked out and was shaken up about it. I had a p good relationship w my boss and all my coworkers there, so when I had to put in my two weeks’ notice I actually got an offer to stay with my boss in the event that the situation escalated, and also knew I could go and stay with my one of my best friends with their grandad, or their sister. In fact, right when that happened, my friends already had a kind of escape plan half-formed because things had just kind of been getting worse, and for almost a year now I’ve been living with my other best friend. Even if things never get to the point of you having to leave the house, just having people that you can rely on who will be on your side entirely is crucial to dealing with that kind of stress.

If you think or feel you may be getting gaslit - even if you’re thinking to yourself that you’re just blowing things out of proportion or that it’s “not that bad” (a lot of us go through that) - start keeping a journal of things your mother says to you. You don’t have to show anyone. Just keep it for yourself. It doesn’t even have to be anything important; like I said earlier, it can be as simple as off-handed comments about movies you’ve watched or appointments you’ve made or what have you. Write them down when they happen, date them, and then when she says something that you feel contradicts what you’ve already heard - you can fact-check it. You can also do this with screenshots if it’s over text or something, and if you think you can get away with secretly recording her on your phone that might help too. I don’t recommend telling her you’re doing this or pointing out when she’s been lying; in the event she doesn’t outright deny it she could flip it around to make herself the victim or spiral out of control and get worse - this is just for your peace of mind. The goal of gaslighting, to quote the movie, is to “systematically [drive] you out of your mind”. This would just be a way to reassure yourself that you’re not making it up, you didn’t forget, you’re not blowing things out of proportion. 

If you need anything more specific, feel free to let me know! I’m so sorry you’re going through this, it really just fucking sucks. But I believe you can make it! And there is an it - there’s an out, even if it’s hard to get to or takes long. 

[bigskydreaming]

Had a chance to watch Ant-Man and the Wasp finally, and I don’t have enough time to post my thoughts in full now, so making a note to come back to it later:

Scott Lang is Valid. All Scotts are Valid. Scott Lang, Scott Summers and Scott McCall should start a We Are Valid club.

Hank Pym and Hope van Dyne can both go jump in a fucking lake. Yeah I said Hope too, and I meant it. While nothing new, what this movie obliviously shows about how insidiously ingrained classism is, at the  most fundamental levels of our society and entertainment, is....something.

Like, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with Hank and Hope’s passion to rescue Janet. What IS fucked up is how at every turn, their need to do so and restore their family is upheld as sacrosanct and justifying everything done in the name of that mission, while at the exact same time they have absolutely no regard for Scott’s desires to do the exact same thing with his family. Because they are the wealthy ones, the upper class, the patrons of the equipment Scott uses. He’s just their lackey, his heroism conditional on whether or not they even deign to grant him access to their toys, their mission of Family Over All must always be the priority, and when this conflicts with Scott’s own mission of Family Over All, this is either an obstacle or an annoyance in their eyes, or an outright betrayal at other points.

With the insidious part I was talking about being that the narrative supports their assertion that their needs are more important, the writers oblivious to the fact that their own unconscious biases in this regard (Upper Class equals Better or at least More Necessary) have them throwing their own titular hero under the bus in defense of this basic premise...a premise so basic they don’t even REALIZE their story is crafted to make this argument. (And srsly, another thing all these Scott protags have in common, lmao, like wtf is it with main characters named Scott who are treated as the villains of their own story for daring to stand up for their own needs and wants and not being willing to sacrifice everything they care about for the sake of people who would never sacrifice themselves or their wants for them??? Again...Scott McCall, Scott Summers, now Lang. Weeeeeird. Anyway).

But like, Hope literally abducts Scott in order to obtain his help rescuing Janet, waving off every objection he has as to how this could jeopardize his freedom and ability to y’know...RAISE HIS DAUGHTER, because her mission to save her mother, missing from her life for 20 years, is Valid, but his mission to NOT spend 20 years missing from his daughter’s life....she’s like, meh, can’t relate....okay wtfever. Everything Scott says about his concerns regarding potential consequences for his own life are dismissed as trivial and inconsequential. It’s covered and taken care of, he’s repeatedly assured, thanks to their arrangements that they put very little time and effort into crafting...and thus fall apart at like...the slightest provocation, like the very second anything with the rest of their plans starts to go wrong, it all unravels there. So like....his fears and worries are NOT trivial, the narrative even bears that out, it just also tries to at the same time defend their position of treating them as lesser than their own concerns.

Like Scott tells his trusted friend, the person HE values and has every faith in (faith that is born out by the fact that Luis only revealed their location via truth serum), where to find them so he can help Luis with their work plans they need to salvage their own careers and keep their business running, and Hank and Hope AND the narrative are like wtf dude, this is the worst thing you could ever do, and of course now the bad guys found us, what a bonehead move this was.

Even though, again, Hank and Hope literally drafted Scott against his will over his objections and gaining his full cooperation only after making promises to handle his concerns, promises that ARE NOT MET, because they are not infallible....but this doesn’t get acknowledged. Instead its emphasized that the guy who had the least agency here is the fuckup, for daring to prioritize his own needs and wants and job and livelihood and friends and coworkers and family over theirs, when they show zero actual empathy for any of his. Like, its textbook classism, Hank and Hope sniping at Scott all movie about how bad off they are because they’re on the run after what he did in Germany, their lives and careers are tarnished....but because Scott’s job isn’t as important as the things they do, its literally treated by them and the narrative itself as being irrelevant, not worth prioritizing. Scott’s ‘mistake’ in trusting a friend that under normal circumstances absolutely is trustworthy, is spotlighted, while their mistakes, relying on contingencies that aren’t actually able to support how much they rely on them, once things go south....are swept under the rug.

(And for the record, in regards to Scott’s going to Germany with their tech resulting in Hank and Hope’s reversal of fortunes....I mean, Hope basically says to Scott’s face her real issue is just that he didn’t ask her to go along. That its not even his actions or motivations they object to, so much as just his not asking their permission first. Using their tech under his own power, not as an extension of theirs. Even though elsewhere in the MCU, heroes are celebrated for following their consciences rather than upholding obligations they made to the persons responsible for empowering them in the first place - look at Steve defying the wills of those who gave him the Super Soldier serum, look at Dr. Strange defying the wills of his teachers who told him to keep his hands off the Time Gem, etc, etc. But the ex-con given size-shifting tech for the sole purposes of whatever the hell his ‘bosses’ tell him to do with it does the same, and the narrative’s like WHAT WERE YOU THINKING. And Hope’s final parting shot on the Germany matter again isn’t even that he was wrong....its that if she’d gone with him, he’d never have been caught. Like lol wooooow writers, way to obliviously lampshade your awareness that the rich will always have a get out of jail free card that the struggling single father literally does not).

And then back to what I was saying about how the writers throw their own hero under the bus for the sake of Hank and Hope’s wants (and yes I’m aware this is supposed to be Hope’s movie as much as Scott’s, but Scott was very clearly the protag of the movie this is a sequel to, so I’m not attempting to diminish Hope’s significance to the franchise, because again, none of this is me saying that Hope’s motivations aren’t valid, just that them always being elevated ABOVE Scott’s, her co-protag, is not)......like look at the convo Scott has with Cassie after they fake out Woo and Scott has what’s supposed to be his Come to Jesus revelation about his own actions. He literally tells his daughter that he’s a fuck up and he hurts people even when he tries to do the right thing, when like....source????

That framing only works if you, like the writers, take for granted Hank and Hope are in the right when they view Scott ‘ditching’ them/their mission in order to go make sure Woo doesn’t catch him out of the house and lock him up for twenty years as some great betrayal. IT’S NOT! It’s literally just him doing the EXACT same thing they do the entire movie! PUTTING HIS FAMILY FIRST. Every single time Scott talks about his status as an ex-con and his fears about being locked up, its NEVER about his own personal freedom or about all the things he wants to do that he can’t while on house arrest, etc. It’s always, ALWAYS centered around one thing and one thing only - making sure he’s able to be there for his daughter. This is his ENTIRE motivation through the entire film, the movie itself acknowledges it, and THEN it proceeds to INVALIDATE this by saying Scott prioritizing THIS over helping Hank and Hope rescue THEIR loved one is SELFISH.

A refusal to self-sacrifice for the sake of those unwilling to do the same IS. NOT. SELFISH. It’s just not! And the only way to make the argument it is, is by doing exactly what this movie does with its classism - take for granted that the lower class character is EXPECTED to sacrifice for his betters, while them doing the same in return would be deemed exceptional or proof of their selflessness, but it is certainly not something anyone should or would expect them to do.

But nah. The writers just do not even GET that they’ve elevated Hank and Hope over one of their own story’s protags to this degree, so they don’t think twice about making Scott’s prioritization of his family, his daughter, a FLAW he has to learn to overcome, IN A CONVO WITH THAT VERY SAME DAUGHTER, in order to be a true hero, and put others ahead of himself (and his daughter). As long as they’re like, richer or smarter than him, at least.

I mean.....lol.

And let’s not get into the fact that Janet literally engineered a way to HIJACK SCOTT’S ENTIRE BODY AND MIND when ‘necessary’, and the movie just...rolls with this. Hank and Hope don’t even feel a need to point this out to Scott when it happens and he has no idea what just happened. LOL. It’s so taken for granted that his role in all of this is to do or be whatever they want or need him to do or be, that like....the writers literally write his entire body being used without his knowledge or will...being something unremarkable. Not even worth noting. Unlike the incessant way any time Scott uses their tech without their express permission or for his own purposes, this is him having no respect for their genius in making it or their generosity in allowing him to use it.

Course, let’s also not get into the fact that body hijacking as a trope needs to diiiiiiiiiiiie omg, or at the very least NOT be treated as an opportunity for comedy and levity. It’s not. Stop it. Can we please kill it with fire? I know we’ve been doing this for decades, but it doesn’t change the fact that the idea of someone else literally using a character’s body for their own ends without that character having any agency in this whatsoever....like, that is an idea that certainly is worth exploring, has merit as a story....WHEN TREATED AS AN ACTUAL VIOLATION. NOT AS A JOKE. Oy. But I digress.

Moving on, since apparently I lied when I said I didn’t have time so I was just making a note to do this later, lol wow who could’ve predicted that WHOOPS ME....Ava and Bill Were Right.

Isn’t it interesting how Hollywood spends so little time and effort making white antagonists and villains sympathetic....because they know they don’t need to! Audiences will do the work for them! They’ll bend over backwards looking for ways to justify any and everything a villain does as long as they’re hot enough, or charming enough, or smart enough....as well as white enough.

No, Hollywood these days saves the effort of crafting sympathetic backstories and motivations for villains when those villains are marginalized characters. Because they’ve at least figured out that much. That there’s too much backlash in ALWAYS painting black characters like Ava and Bill as villains with no motivation other than greed or a desire for violence or whatever. They get that at least. 

So when they make villains of color - and make no mistake, Ava and Bill were very much framed as the villains of this movie even if they were actually more just antagonists, with the technical villain being that white dude who is so irrelevant who even bothered LISTENING to his name? Like, the entire point of having Ava ramp up from her introduction as antagonistic but sympathetic to increasingly hostile to ‘our heroes’ to outright aggressive and violent at every turn (even though her motivations at no point changed, merely her desperation, as the very situation she was written as being in to make her sympathetic in the first place was actively worsening in a very real and tangible way)....like that’s fucking deliberate. The only point of that, narratively speaking, is for the writers to make the case like, this is WHY Ava does this, but see, now she’s gone too far, her reasons are an explanation but not an EXCUSE, this isn’t defensible at this point.

Y’know, kinda like I pointed out Hank and Hope’s motivations are perfectly understandable and an explanation for their actions, but not an excuse for the way they prioritize them over Scott’s motivations and concerns. Cuz just like Hank and Hope are essentially the villains of Scott’s story in my eyes, for that, the deliberate shift from focusing the spotlight on Ava’s motivations to focusing it on her increasingly ‘unhinged’ actions happens solely to ensure audiences SEE Ava as the villain even if technically there’s a worse, ‘true’ villain and we’re reminded by the end of the story to be sympathetic to Ava’s situation - once Janet has deigned to make that argument in her support. An argument that never would have needed making, mind you, if the narrative had kept the focus on how understandable Ava’s motivations were the whole time, instead of shifting that focus to the effect it had on the heroes, the ‘good guys’ ergo how could anyone hurting them be anything but the bad guy.

But my point here is like, Hollywood at least gets that when they have villains of color or other marginalizations, they have to at least make an effort to make them sympathetic....so long as its implicitly understood that no matter how sympathetic their actions, they’re still misguided. Still WRONG. Still not in the right. Like the good guys. The heroes.

Except....lol. AVA AND BILL WEREN’T WRONG. EVER. AT ANY POINT. THEIR MOTIVATIONS WERE EVERY BIT AS UNDERSTANDABLE, RATIONAL, AND JUSTIFIABLE AS HANK AND HOPE AND SCOTT’S. THE ENTIRE TIME.

And that’s the NEW (not new as in recent, just new as in latest) problem with how Hollywood writes marginalized villains....they put just enough thought into seeing things from their eyes that they’re able to craft sympathetic origins and motivations at all....and then they very firmly and deliberately slam on the brakes the second they’ve done that. REFUSING to go any further, to take that one step more...and not even because they can’t, but because they KNOW....that has the capacity to outright FLIP who is the villain and who is the hero in the story.

Because its literally all just about the framing. Scott and Hope and Hank aren’t the good guys because their needs and wants are better or purer than Bill and Ava’s. They’re the good guys for the SOLE reason that all of those characters have equally human wants and desires, and THESE are the ones the writers chose to present to their viewers as the good guys. To single out and say via their contexts and framing and the choices they WRITE every character making....in comparison, relative to everyone else in the film, THESE are the characters who are MOST right. MOST valid. And thus who you’re expected to support.

You could have written this EXACT SAME STORY from Ava and Bill’s POVs, called it Goliath and the Ghost (Goliath is comic book Bill Foster’s superhero code name)....and Ava and Bill would have been the heroes, while Hank Pym was the villain.

THE. EXACT. SAME. STORY.

Because the thing about Ava and Bill’s actions being understandable, the thing the writers and director KNEW and thus took actual, deliberate steps to COUNTER, so Ava and Bill DIDN’T end up stealing the designated ‘hero’ roles of the film....is that by virtue of their motivations being sympathetic, understandable....THEY WERE AS RIGHT AS ANYONE ELSE IN THE MOVIE.

We are all the heroes of our own stories. We are all the villains of someone else’s. That’s not just a cliche, a platitude. It’s like....a writing lesson. It’s literally JUST about the framing. JUST about who you focus on, who you CHOOSE to uphold as right and wrong, or right and more right.

Ava and Bill weren’t wrong. The movie just put every effort into making sure audiences were left with the takeaway (effectively speaking, not nominally)...that Hank and Hope were MORE right. 

I leave Scott out because again, he was just kinda along for the ride here. His motivations remained as static as anyone else’s....he wanted to help, but as long as his daughter always came first....and thus Scott got pulled along in any direction those with more power and agency than him pulled on those particular threads. Characters can be just as influenced by the focus they’re exposed to as audiences. Scott’s exposure was to Hank first and foremost, thus just like the audience’s exposure was more to Hank than to Bill and Ava, Hank got more chances to explain HIS side of the story, HIS motivations, HIS reasons to Scott than Bill and Ava did. Just as is true of audiences. If Scott had met Bill first, for instance, if Bill had given Scott Goliath tech instead of Hank giving Scott Ant-Man tech, if Bill was the one Scott had more history with, personal investment in, and reasons to hear out...its every bit as likely Scott would have been on Bill and Ava’s side all along. Just like, again, is true of audiences. If every scene where Hank got to explain his version of events, his reasons for doing what he did back in the days of SHIELD and his associations with Bill and Ava’s father....if those scenes had instead been giving to Bill doing exactly the same thing, again.....audiences would have been just as likely to land Team Bill and Ava than the team the writers WANTED them to land on. 

Because when everyone has a reason for doing what they’re doing, especially when everyone has a GOOD and understandable and SYMPATHETIC reason for what they’re doing...and these reasons lead to choices that put them in conflict with each other....

For all intents and purposes, its all the same at that point. Which means the ones who end up being the good guys, the heroes of the story, is PURELY the result of the intentional, deliberate choice writers make as to WHO they push forward and support as the ones whose motivations and choices we’re MOST meant to sympathize with, to identify with, and thus cheer for.

And that’s where Hollywood keeps failing time and time again with marginalized villains. Racism has literally written Hollywood into a corner where they obstinately INSIST on staying cuz racists gonna racist. That’s ultimately what it boils down to. As uncomfortable as it makes people to hear, even something like this film is inherently as white supremacist as any MAGA-hat wearing propaganda spewer.

Because along with the deliberate choice to make marginalized villains sympathetic and not alienate marginalized or socially conscious centered audiences that way......Hollywood continues to make the equally deliberate choice to KEEP those marginalized characters as the villains. Instead of ever pushing that exploration of their motivations, that focus on their choices....just a little bit further....just far enough to tilt the scales, flip the frame, and make them the heroes of the story instead.

And when you’re talking about black villains in particular, like with this story, yup, sorry not sorry, that’s white supremacy. Even if its not the particularly obvious, ‘ugly’ aggressive kind....that’s still a deliberate upholding of white motivations as Most Valid, for no other reason than to keep the white characters the MOST sympathetic...and thus the heroes.

When your black villains are ONLY villains because you literally refuse to LET them be the heroes, if it comes at the expense of white characters you yourself have written to be as not any more or less understandable than them, just that you’ve made the decision to be more personally invested in.....that’s literally upholding the white characters as ‘supreme’, narratively speaking, because they’re white, and you’re white, and that’s all that matters at the end of the day.

*Shrugs* Anyway, ultimately my take is there’s a lot to like about Ant-Man and the Wasp, from certain angles. Scott’s a likable protag with a solid and relatable characterization, when the narrative chooses to uphold and support him. There’s funny bits, there’s nice, soft moments. I like that it was a superhero story where the inciting events and ultimate mission had a smaller, more contained focus than saving the world, that it was ultimately about saving family, using superpowers and superpowered stakes to go above and beyond in rescue or defense of individuals rather than only justifying such powers and stakes in defense of society or civilization at large....I think that’s a good note that a lot of superhero movies moving forward can benefit from. Tighter focus works just as well as broader focus so long as you use either appropriately.

But all that said....nope. Not good enough. Because also at the end of the day, IMO, like I said, its still a racist, classist movie singing the same old song with Hollywood and Marvel/Disney specifically, just willfully refusing to switch to another channel.

Because it didn’t need to be Scott’s story and it definitely didn’t need to be Hope and Hank’s. It could’ve just as easily been Ava’s story. It could’ve just as compellingly been her heroes’ journey. Self-empowerment, saving yourself from what others have done to you, is just as valid and defensible as saving a mother.

And the second they wrote Ava, who they initially had take off her mask to stand revealed as an exhausted and frightened young woman who went and curled up alone in some high-tech chamber to sleep....the second they took that same young woman they’d CHOSEN to write and introduce as sympathetic and understandable, that they’d introduced in such a way WITH INTENT....and then had her threaten Scott’s innocent daughter, with her own ally and father figure Bill then WRITTEN, with intent, as calling her out for this and threatening to abandon her if she does it, literally saying the words that she was going too far and thus signalling the writers’ clear stance that this made her now unsympathetic, this was a choice that was bad and thus she was now less valid and sympathetic than the heroes the writers still stood behind and supported, she was now less likely to ‘upstage’ them and steal audiences’ sympathies and support from them for herself instead....

That’s the second the movie fucked up and went just from uncomfortably classist but nothing new to just full on Nope, Fuck This Addition, IMO.

Because that was a conscious choice on the part of everyone involved. Willful intent. That was a giant Bat signal advertising that at least on some level, not even that deep, the writers were AWARE of how sympathetic they’d made Ava (how they’d intentionally made Ava)....and them then literally pulling back from that, BUILDING brakes for whatever train of thought Ava’s storyline had people heading down until then. Keeping her, narratively speaking, in her place. As a villain. Where they wanted her to be, and to stay.

And that’s just as fucking evil as any number of movies where the black character dies first or the gay character dies in their lover’s arms or any number of other more focused-on tropes known for their racism, homophobia, transphobia and the like.

When you set out to make your marginalized villains sympathetic and then put a CAP, a CEILING, on how sympathetic towards them you want audiences to be, when you say “I want you to understand them, just not enough to root for them,” when you make every effort to advertise “I see this character’s humanity, that they’re fundamentally no different from me, from any of these other heroes, they’re all the same....I’m just choosing to keep the white ones the heroes anyway”....fuck you. Honestly, that’s as bad as any other more obvious racism. That’s as much propaganda as any other instance.

I want people to care, just not care too much....because they still gotta care about the white character most....

Nope. Fuck ‘em. Burn it with the rest of the MCU’s trashiest takes. Scott Lang is Valid and Cassie Lang is precious, I really truly adore any focus on a single dad whose entire world honestly revolves around his kid, and I’ll read all the found family fic where its the Langs teaming up with Bill Foster and Ava Starr, but  this narrative was bad, These Are Not the Heroes You’re Looking For, and Hank and co. can go fuck off to the quantum realm where their irrelevance can finally be equal to their ego.

[wtnvwritings]

Request:  How about a glimpse at the daily grind of Desert Bluffs' radio station for our old pal Kevin and his lovely assistant? :)

The day begins, like all days, with the blaring, scorching, screaming sound of an alarm clock. It pierces your brain like a needle, shocks you awake like icy water dumped over your very mind. You barely have time to let yourself simmer in that pain, however, as your body swiftly slips out from beneath the covers--oh, those protective covers--and you find yourself lost in the habits of the early morning.

6 a.m. The sun hasn’t even risen yet, but at least the alarm stops blaring when you get out of bed--it’s programmed to do that, after all, and you know what will happen if you try to get back in it.

Though you’d love to afford the moment to well over the pain of your situation, your eyes glance briefly to the other side of the bed. It is empty. It is always empty when you wake up, the owner’s alarm slotted for two hours earlier than you to wake up.

You’re not quite sure how Kevin managed to afford you two extra hours of sleep every day, but it’s a small gift that you appreciate. It’s a small gift that gives you at least a small pause in the tidal wave of woe and depression that presses up against the back of your eyes.

But the sound of a new alarm pulls your attention away from the bed.

Ah, yes. The mandatory morning chanting and worship for a god you pretend to believe in, if only because you know what happens if you don’t.

Work is busy, always so busy. There are a lot of things that you’re responsible for doing at the radio station, though most of the things are largely at the discretion of your...boss? Boy...friend? You were never quite told what Kevin was officially to you, only that you would fill the role of his assistant, so there was a fair bit of vagueness that came with trying to figure it out. The last few months had settled into something much more intimate than mere coworkers so, at the very least, ‘boyfriend’ was a term you could use sometimes.

It was a ridiculous and painful irony, but you felt the most free during the workday. Though there were so many reminders around you that your life was little more than a corporate servant you could at least pretend that there was some normalcy in it. You had the freedom to use a computer and your phone and sometimes, when he wasn’t broadcasting, you could pretend to hold a conversation with Kevin. Sometimes he was even in a good mindset to have a conversation, one at least that wasn’t laced with hallow joy and in a room decorated with blood.

The two of you were in the editing room together. The clock loomed above you both, carefully noting every second that you weren’t actively working, the minutes being subtracted from your allotted daily ‘personal’ time. It varied depending on your position, career and stance within StrexCorp and could change from day to day, giving you extra minutes if you performed well, but taking it away if you didn’t.

Kevin must have been in a very high position because, once you started dating him, you found yourself with three times the number of minutes allotted for personal time on the clock--you had an entire hour to sit down and breath, maybe try to eat something and act if only for that precious hour that your life was normal and okay, even if it was so much the opposite.

But you at least had Kevin. He...had his own issues, his own quirks and his own...unique traits but you couldn’t help but grow fond of him. A more sane, mentally stable version of you may have questioned the type of relationship the two of you were in, an entirely safe version of you (both mentally and physically) would even have pointed out the pure insanity of it all, only thinly veiled behind the visage of being a day-to-day office worker.

You were nothing but a literal servant, a pet, a person fortunate enough to fall into a job that StrexCorp deemed suitable for you and thank every god that isn’t smiling that this job could afford you the freedom of thought and time so that you didn’t go insane with your misery.

And it gave you Kevin. You could at least be Kevin’s pet--that was something you have grown comfortable with.

You weren’t so fargone in the mantra of StrexCorp to understand that Kevin was a man hurt and manipulated and twisted to madness by the company, but he was still a man who showed you kindness, affection and, to a greater extend, protection. He took the insults of low productivity and fought thinly-veiled threats of physical violence with those of his own. You remember him coming home one evening, late into the night bloodied and half-conscious--it was a day that you had missed your productivity goal by only an hour. Just an hour.

You’re still not sure why he took the punishment for you, especially not when you hadn’t even been dating more than a few weeks at that point.

Still, at least sometimes you can pretend that you are a normal person working a normal job with a normal company. Sometimes you can pretend--you don’t know how you’d get through the weight of each day if you couldn’t, left instead to the realization that your freedom was taken from you, that you were a literal prisoner of a corporation that could do whatever they liked to you.

Oh, how you could play pretend.

The work day ended...well, whenever it ended. It was another vague idea (to stop working) that depended on your job, your status and your individual performance. Due to your connections (Kevin) you were usually able to get out of the station by 6, leaving you with a few precious, beautiful, perfect hours to spend your time doing whatever you liked.

Well, as long as you made sure to keep up your ‘daily behavior log’ that was on your StrexCorp-issued laptop.

Kevin would get home an hour later than you. It wasn’t due to any punishment or added time onto his shift, but simply because....he was just...like that. You didn’t have the energy or the curiosity or the courage to ask him about it. You’d spend that hour in any number of ways you could think--reading, singing, painting, meditating. It doesn’t matter what you do because it always ends the same:

Kevin walks into the front door. He starts to say something, perhaps a greeting, but it’s quickly cut-off by your arms thrown around his body and your face buried in his chest.

You should feel disgusted in yourself. You should feel ashamed and horrified and a great many things for being in a situation like this, acting like a pet for this man, but it’s a twisted situation of circumstance and pain and the simple, powerful longing for someone willing to look out for you--someone to care for you.

Kevin laughs that soft, veiled laugh of his.

“You only saw me an hour ago, dearest one!” he says, and you feel a hand on your head and fingers pulling, combing through your hair. “You missed me that much didn’t you?”

All you can do is nod against his chest and try to ignore the stinging metallic scent on the man’s clothes and skin.

“That’s just adorable!” The man said, voice cheerful and lilting. “It’s always so cute when you’re like this, a sweet little pet seeking out such a simple comfort you humans want so much. So cute and sweet.....and vulnerable.”

The words may have seemed an enigma--no, a veiled threat--but, to you at least, they were a comfort. You didn’t mind being small and cute and vulnerable if it meant being safe and held and loved and with the smallest strand of sanity to cling to.

“It seems like we have our allotted hours of personal time, dearest,” The man all but purred, resting his other hand on the small of your back. “What would you like to do together?”

You loved Kevin and, though he would never admit it to anyone outside the softest, most intimate moments that he knew cameras weren’t watching and microphones weren’t listening, he loved you too.

“...Can we...lay together?” You whisper softly, against the fabric of his shirt. The words were weak, broken, filled with the dread of months of exhaustion and pain and suffering. You just wanted to be held, to be warm, to be comforted and promised that everything would be okay.

Kevin was silent for a few moments, as if processing the request.

“Alright,” he finally said, voice having lost, if only for a moment, the forced brightness and joy you were so used to hearing from him. He sounded honest in that moment, exhausted and genuine and real. “We can do that, dearest.-

-I’ll keep you safe.”

[janazzaa]

The Founding of Tarrey Town

Fandom: Breath of the Wild Characters: Link, Hudson Summary:  Hudson was grateful for the trust Bolson had in him, but the Tarrey Town project was just a little too big for him. Thankfully, this kid didn’t mind giving a hand. AO3

Hudson liked the little guy. Polite, quiet, dependable - much like himself. Perhaps that was why when the little guy found him he accepted his aid. After all, the project he had in mind was huge and would take years to accomplish by himself. While this guy might not stay for long, a little help wouldn’t be a bad idea.

But even after he dragged dozens of tree logs to Hudson’s campsite, they had a long way to go.

After collecting enough wood for Hudson that could be cut into planks for the day, the little guy huffed and fell to the grass in a heap of limbs. His chest heaved from overexertion, as he had been chopping down trees since midday until past dusk.

Hudson could not help but feel gracious in spite the little progress truly made. “This is only the beginning for me,” Hudson told him. “Can I have the wood?”

The boy lifted his hand into a thumbs up that shook then let it flop back down.

Having made enough progress on removing the stone for today, Hudson grabbed his water skin and knelt beside the boy. “Do you have anywhere to be soon?” He asked the little guy as he handed over the water skin.

The kid drank from it greedily dripping it on himself and sputtering from his laid out position. When he finished he wiped his mouth and shook his head.

“Good. We can make dinner.”

Hudson didn’t wait for his response before taking some sticks and branches still left on the hauled wood into a balanced pyramid and with flint and a knife he began sending sparks at the kindle. “I caught some fish just before you showed up to help. You prefer grilled or fried?”

Hudson left no room to decline the meal. And so the two stoked their little fire below the metal plate where their fish fried. The blonde pulled from his pack rice balls tucked away between leaves and offered one to Hudson.

The kid didn’t talk much which was fine for Hudson. After all, he wasn’t one to make much conversation, preferring to observe and accept what people asked of him. But it could get old, a reason for why Hudson decided to start his own project. As his own boss, however, he was expected - or, he guessed, expected of himself - to be efficient, meaning to know what materials he would need and when he would get them. With just himself, it meant if he didn’t collect the metal and wood, he couldn’t build anything that day.

Having this little guy sure was a big help, even if it was only one day.

When the kid got up and thanked him for the meal, Hudson suggested he stay.

“You’ll get lost out in the dark.”

And so they slept beside the fire.

When Hudson woke, he expected to find his newfound friend to have left. He was a seasoned traveler, obviously from the extensive gear, the type to follow the wind and twisting turns of a the river. His shoes would be well worn and gloves falling apart.

He wasn’t in sight, but many of his things were still at the campsite, like his pack and shield. He didn’t notice at first, but beside the fire, not far from his own belongings a plate of rice and eggs sat balanced on a stone. Beside it was a note that read “For Hudson.”

Thoughtful kid.

With his breakfast in hand, Hudson drew himself to his feet fighting off the last of sleep, then dragged his feet to the edge of the cliff where his little Tarrey Town Project was based. He dug in to his meal and considered if even his mother could cook as well as this guy. The rice was seasoned with something he had never tasted before, a spicy but sweet coat around the grains of rice. Perhaps that was the Goron spice he had heard of, something rather rare outside of Death Mountain. It took sheer willpower to not scarf it down in one bite.

He owed the little guy his thanks and searched for him from the cliff side, eye the horizon until noticing the forest surrounding Akkala Lake - or rather, what had once been its forest.

The tree fell beside the boy and Hudson couldn’t help but laugh.

Chopping down trees. At the crack of dawn. It was like a path of chaos. Everything behind the boy had been chopped down already leaving nothing but stumps and logs rolled onto the path ready to be lugged back up to the project area in the middle of Akkala Lake along with his efforts from the day before. Ahead of him were dozens upon dozens of trees, but knowing this boy’s speed and strength, they would be no match.

Hudson decided he liked his new friend and coworker.

Sure the houses were being built but what was the point of no one knew of it? He imagined it would perish, a ghost town only told as legend. He still had a lot of work to do even with the little guy’s help.

The little blonde worked fast and clean, his movements measured and his eyes focused as he cut wood into planks for floor boards.

“So I was thinking…”

The boy looked away from his work and tilted his head.

“These boulders are driving me nuts…” Hudson thought for a moment. “But we need someone of brute strength, more than myself.”

The boy nodded.

“But the company’s got strict rules. People with ‘Son’ in their name only… We need a help removing this stone.”

And it was as if Hylia herself had shone his light on him.

“Maybe you can find a Goron.”

He knew the guy was light on his feet and his horse to be stronger and faster than most. If he didn’t know better, he would say it was the same horse told in legends, one that accompanied the Hero that once stood beside the late Princess’ side. It was said to be natural born, raised and nurtured by an unforgiving land but having the sharp-mindedness of a man and the gentleness to her rider as a mother.

And even with such skills and tools at his disposal, Hudson did not expect the little guy to accomplish his goal in two short days.

Greyson of the Goron and his son Pelison (a fine name) arrived far earlier than he expected. More talkative than himself, Hudson preferred to listen to the older Goron’s tales of Death Mountain (not a fine name) and its intense heat and peculiar travelers.

“A tin man for a Hylian comes in and asks if I’m looking for work then says he’s gonna talk to Chief. Wonder if Chief knows him. He looked familiar.”

“He is certainly a seasoned traveler.”

“'Course. I just hope this place will be good for Pelison. He needs a place he can call home.”

Hudson considered his words and answered truthfully. “We have a long way to go.”

“Dunno, that kid is fast and easy to like. If he could bring in some business owners, this place could be up and running in only weeks.”

“The Bolson Construction Company rules are strict. Finding someone with 'Son’ in their name who are interested is like finding a needle in a haystack.”

“You doubt him?”

Hudson laughed at that. “No, if anyone can get this job done, it’ll be him.”

“Who knows, maybe he will find Pelison a new mother. Or perhaps a Mrs. Hudson.”

And once more Hudson was laughing, enjoying the simple chatter. This kid sure had a knack for finding good people.

“You’re always looking at that thing.”

The boy perked up at Hudson’s words, looking away from the tablet.

“What does it do?”

He watched him bite his lip and get lost in thought as he always did with Hudson. For sure the kid was quick on his feet against the monsters surrounding Akkala, but in times of peace, he took his time processing, indulging in the small luxury few have the chance to. It was in these moments he seemed most at peace, calm, safe, and Hudson was gleeful to have won such trust.

The boy tapped the tablet and a blue light shimmered across it, the hue of ancient technology, like the crystal eye of the guardians. He handed it to Hudson.

“Oh! Are you sure?” Even when the guy left his belongings at camp, the tablet was not one of those belongings. He had never seen it not in his hands or attached at his hip.

He only smiled and handed it to Hudson who awkwardly held it, unsure of how to hold such technology. The kid lent on Hudson to see the screen and tapped a green icon, and the screen changed to …

“Pictures.”

Hudson had not seen such a tool in his lifetime, but his mother had told him about them. The Sheikah, before their seclusion, could capture scenery with only a click, with details greater than any painting.

The grass of a picture was lush, almost soft, like he could brush his fingers through it.

The boy leans over and swipes the picture away and a new one appeared, one of molten rock and stone with licks of flames surrounding. At the center stood a Goron who wore a handkerchief of Hylian royalty blue around his neck and beside him stood a statue of metal and rubber? There were slots at the face plate and between the slots-

“That is you! I didn’t recognize you!” His laugh bellowed, shaking his stomach and beside him the boy smiled warmly. He swiped to another picture, one of the young man with a silver haired child on a night of the Blood Moon. He held the child above his head and the child cupped his hands around the Blood Moon, as if the Blood Moon was nothing more than a luminescent stone in her hands.

“Amazing. May I see more?”

Nodding his head, the boy took Hudson’s finger and swiped the screen, showing how to sort through the different photos. Another appeared of Hateno, while Karson and himself worked on the new house the young man had bought. Then another when the boy had just left the dye shop. “Those colors suit you,” Hudson complimented offhandedly. Another image must have been taken in the Gerudo Desert based off of the golden sand that seemed to sparkle with the angle of the sun that had half set in the West. The sky had changed to a purplish hue, then orange around the sun, then a golden yellow much like the sand at the sun’s core.

Hudson was awestruck at such beauty at his fingertips. These were sights he had only dreamed of, something he wished the Bolson Construction Company would make him travel to see for himself. “Incredible.”

He turned to ask the young man about the context of the picture, but he quickly shut his mouth holding back a fond smile.

Beside him, head rested on Hudson’s arm, the boy slept.

Similarly to Greyson, Fyson arrived much quicker than Hudson expected. Fyson was younger too, leaving the “nest” for the first time in hopes of making a name for himself, not so different from Hudson who left home young when Bolson first found him. But as he listened to the young man’s desire to start his own shop, Hudson couldn’t help but take him under his “wing.”

Then Rhondson.

Rhondson, a Gerudo who had left home in search of work with little success until the little guy stumbled upon her. How she wasn’t employed was beyond him. Her skill was beyond anything he had seen before, her silks the finest, softest, and strong. Even in metal work to create the necessary buckles and pins, Rhondson’s hands were steady and strong, soft yet sturdy.

Finding a treasure such as her, one who cared for him with the same strength and gentleness, the same love and admiration, he thought only existed in stories.

And it was thanks to the little guy that he stood before his wife to be in the middle of Tarrey Town in front of Hylia’s statue, being blessed by a Zoran priest with Rito and Goron and Hylian friends wishing them the best. Flower petals fluttered down around them, a tradition of a Hylian wedding that represents endless love.

Such a variety of races, who when Calamity struck had hid away in their territories afraid that it was the Hylians who brought on such destruction, now all share the same space giving a Hylian and Gerudo their blessings. It was a sign of healing, that Hyrule wasn’t destroyed by Ganon, only set back, and it would heal, just like a burn on the skin. The grass grew back where fire had scorched and collapsed homes and wedding altars. While it took time, homes can be rebuilt, and people can cherish each other without fear.

Hudson could never thank his friend enough for what he did for him. If not for his companionship, Hudson would have likely gone mad. The project would have taken years just to build, let alone to bring in people who would stay. Sure, there was still work to be done, but his aid put them on the map. Brought in traders and citizens, shopkeepers of all trades.

He brought him his beloved Rhonson.

And so he couldn’t thank the little guy enough for all his work. And so with much thought, he decided it be important that the little guy’s name be a part in Tarrey Town’s founding.

“Tarrey Town. Founded by Hudson and Link.” The sign hung inside the inn, a golden plaque that would engrave them in history.

Plus, being married to a seamstress meant his friend often had his equipment repaired, especially his shoes and gloves.

Tarrey Town had its normal bustling of travelers and traders the day Calamity was vanquished. Word spread from the travelers who had seen the castle from a distance.

“The Princess may finally rest,” a traveler had told Hudson. “The Hero has returned.”

Funny that Hudson had never considered his friend, the one who aided in building an entire town and wanted nothing in return, who brought him his beloved Rhondson, would also be the Hero to stop Calamity Ganon. Nor did he believe the lost princess would be alive, only in a slumber similarly to her knight’s as she did not age.

Link hadn’t been around in some time when the first villages cheered for the princess and knight’s return.

Nonetheless, Hudson still stood as Link’s best man at his and the Princess’ wedding, one that took place not on the castle steps as her father’s had, but rather at the center of a little trade town, one caressed by Lake Akkala and blessed by Hylia herself, as Hudson would say, as petals fluttered in the wind as a promise for the years to come.

It was a step away from tradition, much like the princess herself, who asked to take up sword and travel with her knight as a scholar, who discarded dresses for hiking gear and spoke to her subjects as equals.

Yes, she was untraditional for one of royal blood. And perhaps that wasn’t a bad thing.

[izanyas]

Tentative

Shizurona commission for @sad-aske!

Rating: G Words: 1,500 No warnings.

Tentative

"It's a formal kind of event," Tom had said over the phone. Shizuo barely recalled Tom's apologies after that, whispered in his hoarse, sick voice. It was a wonder Tom had called at all rather than using texts, with how much his throat must ache. "Ah, don't forget to dress a little smartly. It's not a big deal but the big boss wants us to."

Shizuo had spent most of the firm's anniversary party standing silently in a corner and wearing the one pair of dress pants he owned that hadn't come from Kasuka.

He had bought it for his aunt's funeral a year ago, but no one needed to know that.

He could feel his colleagues' wary looks like glue on his skin. Not one of them except for Vorona had bothered to talk to him. Shizuo didn't know why Vorona had come either—he wasn't sure she was an employee, exactly. She just followed him around with a frown on her face.

She was frowning right now. Right by his side. An untouched flute of bad champagne in one hand, the other hovering by her hip, where she must have concealed a knife. She was receiving looks too, he thought, because the other women present were all wearing dresses, but the most she had done to make herself presentable was switch to pants instead of shorts and wear pretty heeled shoes.

Vorona glared at him. Brought the champagne to her nose, sniffed it, and took it down again. Shizuo watched her fidget for another minute without knowing what to do.

"I wish I could fucking smoke," he muttered.

"Denied," Vorona replied lowly. "We cannot leave this place until ten."

"I know that."

He didn't even feel hungry. The dining room had been rented for the evening and the chairs and tables displaced. Rows of appetizers and pastries were aligned against the wall opposite theirs, but if Shizuo considered the pastries for a moment, he didn't feel like crossing the distance to reach them and subjecting himself to colleagues he never talked to shuffling away in fear.

It pissed him off to even think about it.

"What do they think is gonna happen?" he asked no one. "I'm not going to punch open a wall. No one's given me reason to."

"Uncertain whether they are aware of this," Vorona said. She hit her nail against the glass, and the sound it made sounded bad even to Shizuo's ears. Her face didn't change, but her eyes grew colder and more disgusted. "You have a reputation, senpai."

"I wouldn't if it weren't for—" Shizuo shut his mouth. His nerves were alight, making him feel as though his skin was ready to jump off his body, and it took several long breaths before he managed to reign in his anger.

He did know why he had a reputation. He knew he couldn't blame Izaya for all of it either.

"Shit," he whispered. "I wish Tom-san wasn't sick."

"Only with a cold. Estimated time before recovery is five days."

"That's five days too long."

It was only nine. They had only been here for half an hour. Shizuo kept his eyes locked to the wall's old-looking clock until the room around him blurred out and he had to blink, and still the silver pointers never moved. He brought a hand up, lost an eternity playing with the knot of his bowtie and threatening to undo it.

And still the silver pointers never moved.

"The clock is broken," Vorona offered.

"Fuck."

--

In the end, Shizuo lasted until ten minutes before ten. He downed half of a bottle of coke—set next to the pastries for the very few children brought here by their parents—and stuck a cigarette between his teeth before he was even outside, lighting it quickly. The smoke tasted weird on his tongue after this amount of sugar, making him feel as if his mouth was dry again, and hot, angry blood took off in his veins at the thought.

He took off his bowtie and popped opened the first buttons of his white shirt.

It wasn't even cold. There was no reason Tom should have fallen sick at this time of the year. The night was still bright at the edges despite the hours, the sky never truly dark because of the city underneath. Shizuo hadn't realized quite how sweaty he was. When the first cool breeze hit his face, he felt the skin of his damp neck shiver.

Someone put a hand on his shoulder briefly. Shizuo turned his head and saw Vorona, who was apparently as inclined as he was to follow protocol. She was opening her collar as well, and Shizuo had to look away again before his eyes could linger on the skin she was baring.

He cleared his throat. "Let's go home," he said.

"Require sustenance," Vorona replied. "It has been ten hours since my last meal."

"You want to find a restaurant now?" But Vorona was already walking ahead of him, taking a tie out of her pockets and gathering up her hair. Shizuo's eyes lingered onto her nape, which looked as damp as his own. "Vorona," he called. She didn't look back. "Whatever. Let's just go to Simon's."

"Affirmative."

She walked quickly, despite the needle-like heels of her pointy shoes. Shizuo kept going back to the shoes. He never noticed what she wore usually, because she was so fast on her feet and he didn't have much reason to look at her other than because she was looking at him with that weird, focused glow in her eyes. Shizuo wasn't in the habit of ogling his coworkers.

He did like the shoes, though.

The way to Russia Sushi was quiet. Vorona didn't say a word or do anything other than fan herself slightly with one of the fliers that had been around the appetizers. The strands of her hair that were too short to be tied back with the rest flew around her face when she did that.

Shizuo was still trying very hard not to look to his side when he pushed open the doors to the parlor. "Welcome," came Simon's voice, and he was immediately in front of them, one of his hands crushing Shizuo's shoulder.

Shizuo smiled tightly. "Simon. Can we get something to eat quickly?"

"Of course," Simon replied. He was smiling at Vorona, but his eyes were amused rather than kind when he looked at Shizuo. "One private booth for the bird lovers."

"You mean lovebirds," Dennis commented from the counter.

Simon shifted on his feet, too quick for Shizuo to parry once he was behind him instead of in front—and Simon pushed him and Vorona forward and toward the booth at the very end of the dining room, right by the kitchen's entrance. "I can walk," he muttered. He had to manually stop his pace with his hands pushing against the side of the table. Simon looked like he was ready to throw him onto it if necessary.

Simon left them with a couple cryptic words, probably meant to tell them that they should decide on their order. Shizuo closed his menu card without looking at it—he already knew there was nothing here for him to eat.

He hated sushi.

Vorona took a long time to browse her own card. "Haven't you worked here?" Shizuo asked her. There was a tiny red mark on her face. He thought it might have been from the punch she barely avoided earlier during the day.

"I did not. There was no pay involved."

"Simon said he had you do a bunch of things around the place."

Vorona closed the menu slowly. "You should trust Simon less," was all she said.

Whatever that meant.

Simon himself was quick enough to come back, eyes so heavy with suggestion that even Shizuo couldn't ignore it. Vorona's order came in with little wait—and it seemed to be way more food than she had really ordered. Shizuo stopped counting everything after Simon informed them that dessert would be coming soon.

It was late. The restaurant was mostly empty. The ridiculous chandeliers above their heads painted everything gold, and their light shone the sharpest on Vorona's hair as she ate. It looked almost white save for the streaks of bright yellow that hit Shizuo's eyes when she moved.

"Enquiring after your status," Vorona said all of a sudden.

It took a moment for Shizuo to understand that she meant, Is there something wrong?

"Uh." He knew his face was hot. "No, I'm alright. Just keep eating."

Vorona took something from one of the plates in front of her. He almost jumped out of his skin when she touched his hand—he opened it by instinct, as if his body knew better than his brain that he was safer when open-palmed—and she put cookies into it.

"For you." Her face looked warmer now, but he couldn't be sure.

Shizuo's hand closed around the food slowly. "They make cookies here?" he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Dennis is adept at them."

Vorona raised a hand to brush aside a lock of her hair. Her eyes went back and forth between Shizuo's hand and his face for a second; then she let out a sound, closer to a light-hearted scoff than he had ever heard from her before, and she ate again.

The corners of her lips were raised. It wasn't a smile, exactly; but her entire face looked softer because of it.

[whiterosemarie]

So…this is the true story of my current working life.

I had a job that I loved. I was working as a assistant teacher at a child development center. I absolutely loved my job. And then I began feeling miserable. I couldn’t figure out why it was getting so hard to bring myself to come into work. I began feeling depressed and very much like everything was meaningless.

One day, I sat watching the kids sleep and was on the verge of tears. I couldn’t shake the dual feelings I was having. How can someone feel so miserable and yet love their job? What was it at my job that was making me feel this way? And I began to think on every day that had felt that way and it dawned on me: my boss.

Here’s the thing about being gaslit: you often don’t realize it’s happening even when you’ve had it before. The situation with my boss was like this: I was experiencing bad symptoms that was putting me in the hospital. I would get so sick that I couldn’t and wasn’t eating. Anytime I ate, my stomach would hurt and I would get sick. I spent a lot of the time in urgent care. When I did have to miss work for that, she’d berate me on the phone. The began on the second call in. I’d be told that I better have a note, that I was just fine yeatersay, that I’m xyz of an employee, that everyone else suffers when I do this. Mind you, I only missed a total of 5 days in the TWO terms I was there, two of which were from strep throat, which we’ll get to in a moment. When I’d come to work, pale and barely able to stand because of fearing I’d lose my job, I was patronized. She’d use the tone she uses on children. “Now Jen, you’re a…big girl now. If you don’t feel you can work, you should call in. Do you think you can do the duties of your job?”

I called in with severe laryngitis due to strep throat, which I received from work because that’s what happens when you work with children is you catch things. A lot. Always. Often. The doctor said to not go in for 5 days. Two of those were weekends so I didn’t work but on the third day I was supposed to take off, I was told to come in or lose my job that they could “work with someone without a voice.” AH yes, because 5 year olds always listen when you can’t even speak. On top of that, I wasn’t supposed to medically. I did. She threw a fit because my doctors note didn’t specifically say strep (saying so is a HIPAA violation. Her demanding he tell her is also a HIPAA violation).

It was a long time until my next incident. We had green eggs and ham. Right after that I began getting extremely ill and bad pain. Thinking I’d be a good employee, I warned people I wasn’t feeling good. My boss was MIA. The next day, i was on the bathroom floor from 6 am to 9 am, unable to even move as my gut hurt so bad and I couldn’t stop getting sick. I call in. I didn’t work til 12:30 that day but I knew where my boyfriend was gonna take me when he found me like that. That’s right. The oh so familiar Urgent Care where Thor the male nurse would be hooking me up to IVs AGAIN and making the same jokes about cocktails.

Over the phone I found no sympathy as I lay there crying on the bathroom floor. I was told I was faking it. That we’d have a talk Monday. I was not told to feel better. My boyfriend took pictures of me hooked up to 3 IV bags that day.

Monday comes. I still have hazy memories of this because it has been locked in my brain as manipulative and bad. My boss proceeded to insist that if I felt I couldn’t perform the duties that i “find other opportunities” and such forth. She said “You’re a burden on everyone else because of your illness” even though she was made aware that I do have disability status filed at HR. This talk lasted 30 minutes. I spent that day struggling not to cry. But it also dawned on me then: she couldn’t fire me. She was trying to chase me out.

Some other background.

My boss liked to undermine my authority. The thing about young children is they observe things and react accordingly. So imagine then that they see who has been equated to the highest authority treated one of the teachers like lower than the other teachers. On one particular occassion, the lead teacher was out sick. I was left in charge of a very wound up classroom. That day I had a student who was born drug addicted have a complete and utter mental breakdown into violent territory during naptime. I relied on my boss to help since she had told me that discipline was only hers (meaning I could not even have him go sit and calm down and not get his journal until afterwards without her). She kept bringing him back to my classroom in this state where he had begun to get physically violent at others. So it was a rough day, see? Well, after this, as children are getting their nap time things put away, she comes in and has me sit on the carpet to “talk” to me. We are surrounded by children. When she normally talks to teachers, they go off to the side to do so. This put me in a position where I’m being treated different. On top of that, she positioned herself to be higher than me. Her tone was talking down to me. Mind you, my job requires a high school degree. I have a fucking bachelor’s in CHILD AND FAMILY STUDIES. CHILD. STUDIES. So her telling me what to do as if explaining to a child while positioning herself above me, using a tone that she reserves for children….while we’re surrounded by children…it made the day worse as I literally felt the classroom begin to react to my authority far differently.

On another note, whenever my boss was near she would mention my work as “okay” And “getting there”. When I told my leads this they were astonished. “You’re the best assistant we’ve ever had here. You go above and beyond in work.”

When it comes to childcare, there are licensing requirements that varies by state. I asked several times for help getting those. Whenever she was supposed to help, she’d go home early. One day, I come in and she shows me an exit card on her desk. “This is to fire you. Get it done today.” “Show me where to go at lunch and I will.” Gone. That night I tried on my own. Wouldn’t load. Come to work. “Did you do it?” “Figured I could during my first 15 minutes. It wouldn’t load. Not sure I had the right forms anyways.” As I got it done, she entered the room and made such comments as: “Oh good. It seems you want to actually keep your job.” A high pitched fake laugh obviously forced. “Sorry it’s such a high price but you know it’s better than being fired.” Snide smirk. She dangled firing me as a suggestion in front of my face often to the point where I began to fear doing anything.

After that fateful talk with her about my absences, she would catch me during lunch when no one was around to dangle such in front of me. I began to job search. She found out. I’m still certain she’s the reason why I didn’t get the jobs. One day she caught me during lunch. “I heard you’re looking for new jobs. I would have hoped you would give your two week notice if you got one.” “I would. I haven’t gotten one yet.” “We’ll I would’ve hoped. So…I think you should give me your two week notice…how about this friday. That’ll put you at ending at the end of the term. I want it on my desk tomorrow. Don’t forget.”

Readers, I want you to realize the above is highly unethical and was what led me to go to HR that next week. I did give two week notice. I did not have to. No boss can force you to give leave just because they cannot find an offense to fire you on. I took the step and went to HR. I quit my job because shortly after that I had a large scale breakdown that would’ve led to suicidal acts while repeating her words over and over that “You’re a burden because of your illness.” My PTSD and chronic illness. My disabilities. I went to HR because my coworkers urged me to desperately.

He said things don’t happen over night. He was a pale man with the sharpest blue eyes. He scared me. But I told him as much as I could while shaking like a leaf. He’s a nice man. But his eyes pierce. He took note that I quit because of this. Things don’t happen over night.

I left my job and cried. I spent this last week in a depressive fugue feeling that I gave up something I loved doing. I had to say goodbye to 27 individual children. I wrote them each a card and gave each a pencil and eraser and an individual drawing. Everyone got one. That weekend, I saw one of my kids at the fair. All three days I saw her and I felt such horrible loss. I loved those kids, guys. I loved my job. I was chased out by a woman who had serious issues of her own and was in way more power than she need be.

Tonight…

Tonight my phone and Facebook blew up.

She’s been asked to clear her desk. Her contract is up. It isn’t being renewed. The term just started this week. It’s only been just over a week since I quit my job and she’s gone. Gone. My teachers want me back. My position was filled before my notice was ever given though. There’s no place to apply other than as a sub. I’m spending tonight crying. Because I want to go back so fucking badly. She’s gone. She’s gone. And she can’t hurt me there anymore.

In the end friends, I leave you with this. Never let a boss get away with harassment and bullying. Especially the abusive nature kind where they convince you that this is all your doing. Never let someone undermine you. And never ever let ANYONE tell you you’re a burden. You’re not. Not one bit.

[julystorms]

What if the Looker we met in ORAS was a Faller from the non-Mega Evolution timeline, just like Anabel?!

That was my original theory, but it’s very difficult to writeinto a comprehensive fiction. Suspension of disbelief can only take us so far,after all.

My original timeline was:

Looker is born in Red

Jumps to ORAS’s timeline

Then we have the events of Diamond/Pearl/Platinum

Black & White

X & Y

And finally Sun & Moon

I really love the idea of the global police agent on the S.S.Anne being Looker. So much so, in fact, that the long’fic I started in Decemberran with this theory.

But, uh, writing a history for Looker is more difficult than it sounds.

The two biggest things to consider when putting together thishistory are his amnesia and his career, because across all the games it isLooker’s career that defines him, not just because of his missions, butbecause, well, we only know him by his code name.

(Apologies, this got long.)

1.) Amnesia

Looker has amnesia in ORAS but that doesn’t mean he keeps it.The first thing to decide with him, regardless of whether or not he’s comefrom a different timeline, is: what’s up with his amnesia? Like Anabel’s it isretrograde, which means he’s only lost previous memories and has no troubleforming new ones. That said, does he get his old memories back or, like Anabel,does he at best remember just a few inconsequential details? Does he evenremember his name?

Anabel is the only other amnesiac person we’ve seen in-game; we’renever really made aware of what caused her amnesia in the first place, either.Lusamine, Guzma, the Sun/Moon protag: they were all in Ultra Space and didn’tlose their memories because of it, so is it a prolonged period there thatcaused her amnesia? Was it trauma? Or was a combination of both?

See, my original theory was that Looker was just like Anabel:the dimension shift/trauma he experienced was too much for his brain and henever regained his memories. Worse, he didn’t get his name back, either. Thisis why Anabel, who doesn’t go by a code name, calls him Looker: his code nameis literally all he has by way of a name. ORAS kind of hinted at this with thewhole amnesia thing/his code name being the only name we ever hear him referredto.

But…this brings with it a LOT of issues. First, it’s impossibleto guess whether or not Looker’s amnesia is permanent the way Anabel’s issuggested to be, but pretending it is, we have to consider suspension ofdisbelief: could he have worked closely with Anabel for at least a handful ofyears without her learning of his amnesia? Without her suspecting something wasoff about him? It’s possible he could keep a lid on it, but, I think, notwithout refusing to ever talk about his personal life, which makes me thinktheir working relationship would be, well, kind of…tense. (See also: personnelfiles, coworkers, et cetera; the truth would be bound to come out, even if it’snot something other people are supposed to mention. Like, let’s be real: twoamnesiacs working together is going to start a flurry of confused rumors withinInterpol.)

There is another option, of course—the only other one. We cangive him his memories back, which means he’ll remember his name, hisprofession, the names of people he thinks he works with. Not that it will dohim any good in another dimension, but he might know enough classifiedinformation (perhaps about Team Rocket) to make Interpol believe his claimshave some validity.

Which brings us to:

2.) Career

This isn’t a problem so much as something that has to beseriously considered. What are the chances that someone who was a global policeagent would become a faller and then, in another timeline, be recruited by whatis essentially the same organization? 

Okay, yes, before you can say it: I am aware that Interpolrecruits fallers. The original faller-bait woman is one example and Anabel isanother. Both were most assuredly unqualifiedfor recruitment and yet were recruited off the street with no credentials andno history. Cool.

But the problem with this happening to Looker, too, is that itgives him a very personal stake in this fallers-as-bait business.

And it also leads us tothe question: why isn’t Looker beingused as bait, then, if he’s a faller?

The obvious answer wouldbe, “Well, he just doesn’t carry enough energy on him,” which makes sense.Remember, the UB from 10 years ago went after his and Nanu’s team member—not Looker.However, as stated above, why would Interpol recruit him if he’s a defunctfaller and has no credentials or history?

Don’t worry—I’ll get toit.

Personally I feel that there are only so many options available for a basic history for Looker: either he is a faller or he is not; either he regains his memories or he does not.

In every instance, he will have lost his memory at least temporary due to [insert event here]. And in every instance he still ends up in the same situation: working for Interpol as a detective using the code name 100kr/Looker.

So here are the four options I think are most likely (and of course, if anyone has anything to add to these/any other combinations, I’d be happy to read them, so feel free to reblog & add to this):

#1: Looker is from another dimension; he doesn’t regain his memories and isrecruited SOLELY because he is a faller. 

This is the ONLY way to make permanent retrograde amnesiaLooker work, IMO. It’s possible he could remember a few inconsequential things butbecause he goes strictly by his code name, and has turned it into a real name(almost as if it started as a joke and then became real) it stands to reasonthat this version of Looker doesn’t actually know what his birth name was.

Consider the TVseries Get Smart. 99 always goes by 99; in fact, her real nameis never revealed and even after the two are married, Max continues to call her99. Max, however, is known interchangeably as Max and Agent 86 by pretty mucheveryone. As far as how this relates to Looker: Anabel only ever calls Lookerby his code name. (But she doesn’t seem to have one, herself...or at least, she doesn’t care to use it.)

In order for Interpol to decide to recruit Looker, he had to have something of value that they wanted/needed. In this case, it would be his status as a faller, so we have to assume that when he was found, the energy levels on him were high enough that Interpol recruited him despite his lack of credentials--in much the same way they recruited Anabel).

That said, we know thatduring the event “10 years ago” Looker and Nanu lost a teammate toGuzzlord. So if you’re going to assume Looker was recruited because of hisstatus as a faller, then you have to assume, too, that by the time the eventof “10 years ago” took place, the energy levels on him had fallen too lowto make him of any use.

This would suggest that between ORAS and this event of “tenyears ago” there is a gap of of time to allow those energy levels to drop into uselessness: a couple of years at least. This would imply that ORAS is at least 12/13 years before the events of Sun & Moon instead of the generally-assumed gap of 11ish years.

So thenthis timeline would look something like this:

Looker from Red ended up in ORAS with amnesia, was recruited byInterpol, lost his usefulness as a faller, but proved useful in other areas(due to years memory-muscle experience from another timeline that he doesn’t remember) andso kept his job.

#2: Looker is from another dimension; he is a faller, he does get his memory back, and he isrecruited by Interpol because he has experience. 

Looker’s status as a faller in this case is just a bonus; his energy levels were toolow to be of much use from the start. Because he got his memories back we can safely assume that unlike Anabel, he didn’tspend very much time in Ultra Space.

This allows him to kind of jump right back into working withouttoo much of a problem.

Regaining his memories means that he has useful information on his person. It might not be all 100% applicable/correct due to this dimension being a slightly different one, but surely some of it is useful—or at least gives his claims some immediate validity.

Not that he especially needs it. Interpol knows about fallers (after all, they find and recruit the woman who later dies on Poni Island), so they know there is a very high chance that Looker is telling the truth about his career in the other timeline. They would approach him regardless of whether or not he gets his memories back, but with his memories, they may very well want to recruit him solely for his preexistingskillset. 

This arrangement also allows for ORAS to take place closer to the “event of tenyears ago” but I’d probably put at least a year in between them for sanity’ssake (catching up on training, getting reacquainted with the world, getting into the swing of things at work).

Thistimeline would be:

Looker from Red ended up in ORAS with amnesia but recovered hismemories and investigated the situation he was in. He was able to join theInternational Police due to his skillset. As soon as the term “faller” was given to him along with a definition he was able to put two and two together. I think for sanity’s sake he would probably be made aware of this early on just because he would try to get in contact with his family ASAP and would fail spectacularly.

These aren’t terrible theories by any means, but they are prettycomplicated. I find the latter a bit easier to swallow, personally, since itdoesn’t stretch suspension of disbelief too far.

(Additionally, I’m pretty sure Generations wasgoing for the “officer on board the S.S. Anne” being Looker with the whole connection to Team Rocket thing, which, in a manner of speaking, helps support the theory that Looker is a faller.)

Anyway we have two smaller theories to consider:

#3: Looker is a faller who didn’t leave hisoriginal timeline.

This means he recovered his memories (probably, due to even lesstime in the wormhole/lack of timeline shift trauma), is a defunct faller with little to no wormhole energy onhim, and has his family/friends/job all waiting for him when he recovers from his ordeal.

This brings with it some huge advantages when it comes to writing something consistent, either fanfiction or RP. In this sort of situation, Looker is grounded in the world more firmly and has lifelong connections that keep him there. It also means that even though he’s been lying to Anabel about herself all these years...he hasn’t been lying about his own life...and hasn’t had a reason to keep anything personal from her, either.

He’s still a faller by definition, but he might not feel the same connection to Anabel that a faller-from-another-dimension version of Looker might feel. Anabel lost everything, after all, and Looker in this case would have only been temporarily inconvenienced.

This timeline would look like this:

Looker was born in the ORAS timeline, was pulled into a wormhole and spat back out again into the same timeline. He regained his memories after a short time and was able to carry on with his life almost as if nothing had even happened to him.

#4: Looker isn’t a faller at all; he was onlyin a bad accident on the S. S. Anne.

This could be split into two categories: one where he regains his memories and one where he does not, but I personally think it’s more interesting if he regains them.

The thing is, due to circumstance, it’s very likely that Looker himself mightsuspect he is a faller due to evidence that seems too obvious tojust be a coincidence. In reality, he isn’t actually a faller at all...just anInterpol agent who met with a bit of a bad time, probably on the S. S. Anne.

This theory is really simple, but it does have some potential for entertainment due to him mistaking himself for a faller.

The timeline is:

Looker was in a bad accident/met with a bad time on the S. S. Anne and washed up on the beach in Hoenn sans memories. He regained his memories, picked up with his life where he left off, but later ends up suspecting he’s a faller due to all of the similarities between his situation and Anabel’s.

No matter what theory I go with I’ll always choose onewhere Looker regains his memories because I don’t think two people sufferingfrom permanent retrograde amnesia could work together for as long as Looker and Anabel have without the truthcoming out—not without Looker having to go to extremes to keep her from putting the pieces together...which does not seem to canonically be the case. All things told, they act quite friendly around one another.

Currently #2 is my default go-to theory just because it works tolerably well (and I’d rather not piggyback on other people’s headcanons if I can help it). Plus there is a lot of room for Quality Angst™. Think about it: all these years Anabel probably felt incredibly alone but he’s gone through something similar and has been there the whole time unable to confide in her.

I can’t deny, though, that a part of me is like: isn’t itangsty enough that the last ten years Looker has known more about Anabel thanAnabel has? Isn’t it angsty enough that she’s been super promoted just to beused as fucking bait? That her position wasn’t honestly earned and she doesn’tknow it yet? That her bosses don’t give a SINGLE shit about her health? That Lookerhas to deceive some kid to get their help in protecting Anabel? That Looker hasto deceive ANABEL to recruit the kid in the first place and has to lie to her face when he’safraid she’ll die because Interpol didn’t give her anybody who could actuallyhelp???

Adding more onto it steps so close to overdramatic badfic territory that it makes it scary to think about writing. To work well, it would have to be incredibly well-written. Looker’s character would have to be well-established and remain so throughout the entire story, and all of the important questions would have to be addressed: for example, Looker remembers everything but has been separated from his family* whichbegs the question: what’s worse, knowing what you’re missing or being obliviousto it? Is this even comparable? 

*This could get really angsty, too. It’s bad enough to lose yourparents/siblings/grandparents/nephews/nieces but it’s also possible he wastaken away from a significant other and/or children as well. Not to mention all of his friendships, contacts, acquaintances. They all probably think he’s dead.

Too, Anabel’s writing is really important; and you might say, “but this post is really about Looker” and that’s true, but please don’t forget that Anabel, as a fellow faller, is incredibly important and a big part of Looker’s life. Regardless of how they view one another, they are on friendly terms and Looker goes way the hell out of his way to try to protect her; this implies a certain level of closeness. It’s not “how he treats everyone” either: the dude risks the life of an 11-year-old to act as PvP DPS peel-bait without even telling the kid that’s what they’re being recruited for. He’s a little ruthless about protecting her. They are close. They have to be for that kind of behavior to make any sense at all.

Anyway, Looker in the case of #2 at least remembers himself. Even separated from his family and friends, he knows what makes him him. This is not a luxury Anabel has been afforded in this timeline. She probably has a lot of self-image issues (among other things), and they need to be included if for no other reason than as a foil to Looker’s dilemma/situation/outlook. That said, it’s easy to fall into the trap of making Anabel’s entire personality about her amnesia, and that is a.) boring, and b.) pretty offensive to people who suffer from or have experienced memory issues/loss of any kind.

What I’m getting at here is that even though picking a theory is pretty easy, writing it seamlessly is not. The characters have to stay in character according to what we know of them, and their relationships to one another can’t suffer as a result of that attempt. 

Anyway, out of all four theories, I find #2 and #3 to be the most likely, followed by #4. #2/3/4 run less risk of Looker and Anabel both reading as exactly the same in writing, and IMO would give an author less trouble than the others. #1 could be fun but like I said, it brings with it a lot of issues with regards to writing Looker’s relationship to Anabel, and probably others, too (in particular Nanu).

I’m not about picking a route just because it’s easy, but I tried to make #1 work and it didn’t work for me personally; I stressed myself out trying to make it make sense.

In the end, I’ll probably always use #2 just because it’s been working pretty well for me. (I do realize my Looker blog kind of contradicts this in a thread but I was still feeling everything out when I got to that part, so consider that retconned if you happened to have read it lmao.)

The TL;DR version: I've been on board that train for a while and I agree it’s one of the more plausible theories.

[billssefton]

I got in trouble because my coworker saw maxi pads in my car, and more

It’s five answers to five questions. Here we go…

1. I got written up because my coworker saw maxi pads in my car

One of my coworkers complained because she saw a package of maxi pads in the backseat of my car when she parked near me in our parking lot. I had stopped at the store on the way into work, and they were in a bag along with shampoo and toothpaste. I got a write-up for it by HR and my boss told me not to do it again and keep them private. I was actually shocked when I was spoken to about it. I want to know if I should push back on this and say anything and how I should do it? I would be curious to hear your thoughts.

You got written up because someone saw a box of maxi pads in your car??

My head is exploding.

What’s going to happen if next time your coworker sees other toiletries in your car, like — gasp — toothpaste? Would she object to seeing a 12-pack of toilet paper too?

This is ridiculous and offensive and misogynist, and you should push back on it. Go back to HR and/or your boss and say, “I’d like you to remove that write-up from my file. There’s nothing inappropriate about having toiletries in my car, whether it’s a pack of toilet paper, a box of maxi pads, or a bottle of shampoo. There’s nothing dirty or shameful about feminine hygiene products, and we’re on awfully shaky ground in penalizing someone for having normal, everyday products in their car just because they happen to be for women. There is no reason that I should have a disciplinary note in my file about this.”

2. Was I tricked into leaving?

I am an American citizen working abroad. I am the only foreigner in my large company overseen by the government of the country where I live, and my salary is paid by a grant from the government to my employer. Several weeks ago, a colleague asked me if I knew that the government had sent my employer a warning that they may not continue to provide that grant after this contract ends. I had not hear that, and was very surprised to hear it mentioned so casually. The colleague called over another coworker, who confirmed that it was true. On the next work day, I went to my manager to ask about it, She said that it was true, and they would not find out if they were receiving the grant for several months. I asked why I had not been formally told, and she said they hadn’t wanted to worry me.

For visa reasons, I could not wait until the timeline offered by my manager to find out if the position would be extended. I interviewed with several companies and accepted an excellent job. I am excited about it.

I gave notice at my current job to my manager’s boss. He was absolutely shocked, and said that there was no question at all about the grant being continued. They had already received the money. He got in touch the government body that funds the grant for me, and they confirmed that for me. There was never any question about my employment.

Today, I got a short message from my manager saying that they only found out today that the grant would be continued and that it was sad that I had already decided to leave. I have not replied to that, because I don’t know what to say.

As crazy as it sounds, I’m genuinely wondering if these three colleagues could have deliberately set into motion a plan to make me quit? I have been told that my manager is a bit uncomfortable with having a foreigner on staff, but all of my evaluations have been exceeds-expectations or above and I’m generally well-liked at work. Still, I can’t figure out what else might have happened here. Should I share these concerns with my manager’s boss? Ask my manager for an explanation (although she is very non-verbal and I’m not sure I will get a real reply)? Just let it go, because I have no real evidence of anything? It makes no difference to my future plans; I will start my new job soon regardless. But the confusion is really getting to me.

Wow, yeah, either your manager was pushing you out, or there was a major miscommunication somewhere. The latter is definitely possible — it could be that your manager’s boss wasn’t fully in the loop about the grant situation, or it could be that somehow your manager had her info wrong. But it’s alarming enough that it’s worth looking into — because if your manager did do this behind her own boss’s back, that’s a big deal and he should know about it.

Skip your manager because that will give her time to potentially concoct a cover story, and go straight to your manager’s boss. In fact, I’d just forward him the email your manager sent you and say something like, “See below from Jane. Given our conversation, I’m really confused! Do you have a minute to talk with me about this?” (Alternately, you could email them both at the same time and say, “I’m really confused about this because Bob told me last week that there was no question about the grant being continued, and he confirmed with Agency that the money was received a while ago. I of course wouldn’t have job searched if I’d known that, so it seems like there might be a major miscommunication here.”)

3. Can I approach my boss about things feeling off?

Recently my department has been undergoing a lot of changes that have led to my boss being completely swamped. There have also been changes in management that mean he’s helping to train and onboard new people above his head while still managing the rest of our team. He’s been noticeably exhausted and short-tempered, and his emails and other communication have been very curt.

I’m having trouble distinguishing actual displeasure with my work from all the general stress response of things being chaotic. I’ve been trying to speak up and step forward more, taking a more aggressive role (this has been part of my ongoing professional goals as discussed in reviews), and his responses to that have been blunt and critical — but always very targeted, so I’m not sure if he’s displeased overall or trying to give feedback on the weak points without bothering to include a general “good job.”

I know the obvious response is to pull him aside for a five-minute meeting and ask, but since he’s so swamped, I don’t want to add more on his plate in the form of having to deal with my feelings. On the other hand, these particular feelings are stemming from his actual job. Still, it feels wrong to bother him about it. What do you think?

If you’re feeling unsure about how you’re doing overall, that’s very much a work-related thing that’s worth asking your boss about. Don’t discount it by framing it to yourself as just about your feelings! If there are problems, you need to know about them so you can correct them — and if there aren’t problems, you need to know that so that you’re not expending energy stressing out about the wrong things.

So yes, ask! If he’s so busy that you can’t realistically get a separate meeting with him, bring it up the next time you’re already talking to him about something else. Say something like, “Can I ask how you think things are going overall? You’ve given me some really helpful feedback recently, but my sense is that you’ve had more criticism of my work than usual and I wasn’t sure if there might be broader concerns with my work that I should be tackling, or if you’re overall happy with what I’m doing.”

4. Can I put my “exceeds expectations” performance review score on my resume?

For the first time, I got “Exceeds Expectations” (an A+ at my company) on my performance review this year. I’m currently job searching because I’m likely to be laid off in a couple of months, and I was wondering if there’s any way to mention this evaluation on my resume. If not, do you think it would be all right to mention it during an interview if something comes up that makes it relevant?

Don’t put it on your resume. Employers won’t have any way to know how rigorous the performance review standards are at your company, and it could come across as giving too much weight to something that doesn’t warrant it. The exception to this is if you can contextualize it with something like “performance was rated in top 1% of employees in 2018,” and then ideally explain why. (But even then, I’d leave “exceeds expectations” off, because there are so many companies where loads of people score that.)

The same advice applies to interviews. The rating on its own isn’t worth bringing up, but if there’s a way to say that you were rated in the top X% of employees and why (because it doesn’t stand on its own as well as it does with context attached), that’s fine to do.

5. Including legal work status on your resume

I’ve had the privilege to review a lot of resumes recently, and it appears common (in the U.S.) for an applicant to state their visa or residency status. Would you advise all applicants putting that on their resumes? As a citizen I never thought to add it, but should I/we?

You’re more likely to see this in fields that typically hire a lot of foreign-born workers (where legal work status comes up all the time) or sometimes from candidates whose education or work history is outside the U.S. (and so they want to preemptively answer any questions about their legal eligibility to work here). But it’s not something you’re expected to include in general.

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my boss freaked out when he saw my menstrual products and called me unprofessional

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I got in trouble because my coworker saw maxi pads in my car, and more was originally published by Alison Green on Ask a Manager.

from Ask a Manager http://www.askamanager.org/2018/04/i-got-in-trouble-because-my-coworker-saw-maxi-pads-in-my-car-and-more.html