#and my supervisor (has to since she agreed to supervise)

[servuscallidus]

.

[agent-lotus]

Interruption

Agent Lotus had been in the middle of doing their work when they receive an email to go to the Site Director's office. Had they done something wrong? They could not recall if any errors they may have committed in the past week. Maybe Director Moose no longer wished for them to communicate with individuals from other realities. That could be it.

The android informed their current supervisor of the request, after verifying it, they went to learn what Director Moose wished to talk to them about. In the waiting, Lotus spotted a child, a girl, who bore a striking resemblance to their mother at that age. Sure her hair was longer and she dressed differently, but there was no mistaking it. Which made them pause. This must be how Deckard felt when he saw Pris Stratton.

The young girl looked up from her book. She had felt the android staring at her. The metallic body was primarily a light gray with a blue heart on their chest. They wore a helmet with radio antenna coming from where the ears would be. Or was the helmet part of their head? And the eyes, she hadn't noticed at first but the eyes were turning gears. Seemingly deep in thought. The pair continued to study the other from across the room.

"Oh Lotus," the director's secretary noticed them. "Director Moose is waiting for you in her office. Some folks came to see you." At least the android broke their gaze and looked at the security. "Don't keep her waiting." She told them. Lotus gave the girl one last look before heading into the office. And suddenly the girl's appearance made since. They were far older now but those were Taylor's parents. What were they doing here?

"Greetings Director Moose". Lotus gave their standard greeting. "Take a seat." Moose said coldly. They did so, feeling rather uncomfortable. "I brought you here to discuss your accommodations within the domestic containment program. Dr. Betty and Dr. Eric Collins here would like to have you moved into their care."

"I am satisfied with my current arrangements." Lotus informed those present in the room. Internally they were repeating the word No over and over. "Lotus, as you grandparents, we feel that it is our responsibility to look after you in Taylor's absence." Betty chimed in. The way she had phrased her sentence bothered Lotus in a way they couldn't quite explain. "I am satisfied with my current arrangements." They repeated. "Come on, surely you'd want to be with Taylor's loving parents?" Eric spoke up. "What loving parents? He has hardly any memories of you." That caught them off guard. "Humans have an easier time recalling bad memories. It's so we can learn from them and protect ourselves". Moose interjected.

In that moment, Lotus wished Moose had remained quiet. "I wish to remain in Edgar's care." Moose nodded. "I see. But according to our records you don't like change." The Director pointed out. "That is correct." Lotus agreed. "But once you have done something you tend to enjoy it, correct?" Lotus squirmed. "Affirmative." They said reluctantly. "From what I have seen, it may be in your best interest to be at a less chaotic site." Moose attempted to convince the android but knew that Lotus would never agree. She was simply playing along with the ridiculous sentiment.

"I am satisfied with my current arrangements." Moose was not surprised. At most she was glad to see that Lotus was at least somewhat capable of standing up for themselves. The Director returned her attention to the Collins. "Still, if you truly want to Lotus in your care we have a lot to discuss and many forms to fill out." She informed them. "We have no issues with that". Eric Collins gruffed. "As well as a discussion with Edgar. He is the current guardian." Moose informed them. "I will have him come to my office. But I will warn you this process will last hours. Maybe days."

"So be it." Eric huffed. "We can't leave Ruby in the hall by herself for that long." Betty interjected. "I can supervise Ruby." Lotus volunteered. Eric almost said no. "That would be wonderful of you." He told them. He hoped that by spending time with his daughter, Lotus would become attached to her and choose them over Edgar. Maybe even realize through Ruby that they were the more more fit guardians. Betty went with Lotus out of the office. "Ruby, this is Lotus. They're your, well we're still working that out. Lotus has agreed to watch you while we get the domestic containment figured out." She explained. "Hi." The girl said. "Greetings, I am Agent Lotus."

Her mother returned to the office. "What do human children typically do for fun?" Lotus asked. "I like puzzles." Ruby offered. "I do not have any puzzles. Solution. Let us go to the Site-19 store and buy one." They smiled. "Oh you don't have to do that just for me." She didn't like having things randomly given to her. It was usually so her parents would have something to take away. "It is of no issue. Please follow me. There is a bus we can take." Not seeing any other options, Ruby followed the android.

[lady-harrowhark]

currently sitting in the workroom crying and trembling with relief.

my program just sent out the list of practicum placement sites for next year. my former supervisor isn't listed anywhere. she won't be formally supervising any more of our students. she won't be abusing any more of our students.

i haven't had the emotional energy to talk much about the more recent updates, but here's the recap (i am really only scratching the surface here) for anyone who's been following along and/or who is interested:

last year, i was in a clinical practicum site at a hospital with a supervisor who is completely incompetent (and i believe actively harmful to patients) and abusive to students. she's been awful for years prior, but it ramped up with me (i came in with a lot more experience than the previous students and her behavior is a very transparent inferiority thing). even after they met with the site director to address issues, it finally got so bad that in april, my program pulled me from the placement early (it's meant to go a full year until june) which they've never had to do before, as far as my program director is aware. because our students are funded through our placements, the program was thankfully able to come up with funds for me for the last two-ish months.

i'm co-advised by two faculty members, one of whom was technically my primary advisor. he is also the practicum coordinator. this particular site is very important to him specifically because it's the only site (and even the only possible site in our city) for clinical experience in the somewhat niche area of our field that he and his students (including me) are in. which he trots out as a recruitment tool to potentials students and applicants, all while knowing what's been going on there. which is to say, there is a huge conflict of interest.

and this year, after all that, they still assigned a student to that site/supervisor. to literally no one's surprise, it has continued to be awful. i ended up going over my one advisor's head (with the support of my other advisor and program director) to lodge a formal letter of concern with proposed policy changes to the practicum system to better protect students that went out to the entire faculty. i'm sure it didn't look good for my advisor, and he's been ignoring me since. they agreed to implement a few of my most minor, low effort recommendations.

the hospital has another branch in a city about an hour away, and they recently announced that the unit this practicum placement is in is all going to be housed in the other city starting this summer. and the placement memo says that next year's student will be working there, under that supervisor, not the one i had. there are two other placement roles with that hospital, but one now lists someone else's name as the supervisor (will still be at the original location because it works with a different population/unit but previously had the same supervisor as i had), and the other says it will split time between the two locations and does not have a supervisor listed.

i've spent nearly two years of my life fighting back against this placement and this site. at first it was just trying to make it through each day there while trying to compensate and make sure patients didn't suffer for her incompetence and bitterness, trying to prevent anyone else from having to go through that after me, trying to recover and get back on track after leaving, and burning bridges with my advisor with my efforts to keep any future students out of there. if it were up to me, that supervisor would have her license revoked. infuriatingly, the statutory codes are written in such a specific way that i don't have anything to bring against her that would stick, but believe me, i've investigated the possibility.

i think i deserve a nap now that that weight is off.

[darkrose9199]

part 2 of 2

The father never replied back with a time or date everytime. Now at these court ordered supervised visitations the supervisor wrote a horrible report about my wife then took herself off of the case. We then agreed on 8 hour visits every other weekend. Things seemed to be going good until the father sent our 4 year old home covered in bruises from her armpit to her mid thigh and several rounded bruises on her back. We we're advised by our pediatric doctors and a third party professional to report him after praying and sleeping on it. We did just that. Mind you, my wife was tore up and crying over having to report my ex because we had just found good ground with him, or so we thought. After this visit there was a court date where the judge ordered a GAL for the girls, we both paid half. After the Gal got involved he too wrote a horrible report about my wife and said that the father should have full custody. We just found out that the gal and judge we're friends since grade school and the other attorney was friends with him as well. Further, these kids have been in our home for 4 years and being cared for by me and my wife only. And prior to that only me for two years before I left him and they said this won't effect the children ages 4 and 6. I was forced to make a deal so I didn't lose them completely they have ordered my children to live with their father 3 hours away and switch schools and I now only have them durring the summer. I am appalled at the system for ripping my kids away from me and my wife. my wife has has a masters degree and is an outstanding person and citizen in this community and had lived and graduated in town he still resides in. She has helped me raise my oldest since she was 2 and my youngest since she was a month old. I feel I have been wronged and I need help. We have two sons that are siblings with the two kids that I had with my ex, and they didn't care about them in this either. I can't keep losing, my children are devastated and nobody cares, our oldest is beside herself begging us not to send her telling us horrible things she is going to do if we make her go. Please help us. The judge, the gal and the opposing lawyer are friends and they bullied us for some reason. We are LGBTQ we are also Christians, we are also a few years apart and most of them have made derogatory remarks about these things. Including the fathers attorney and family.

[flickeringart]

Persephone and her influence in the natal chart

It is perhaps unwise to put too much weight on asteroids – they are after all representing very specific themes and myths that can be traced in the configuration of the major planets. I find asteroids entertaining, and although I believe that they shouldn’t be emphasized too much, they certainly carry some extra information about people that can be interesting to take note of.

I’ve been pondering the asteroid Persephone (399) for a little while. In myth, young Persephone is taken by force from her mother Demeter to live with Hades in the underworld, made to live in the underworld for 6 months of the year and returning in spring to be with her mother again. Prior to her abduction she’s pictured as a beautiful, pure and innocent protégé, always watched over by her mother Demeter who loves her more than anything.

Stevie Nicks has Persephone conjunct Pluto and Saturn in Leo in the 5th house, inconjunct her moon and semi-square Mercury.

Whether Persephone is a tragic figure or not is up for debate. She’s depicted as relatively insignificant on her own – her identity depends on her mother and her abductor. Whether she enjoys being of little consequence and being torn between two powerful characters who both want her is not made clear. She is “valuable” in the sense that she’s the receiver of her mother’s and her husband’s love but she doesn’t seem to be aware of her own value as an individual separate from her two "guardians".

Persephone, in my view, is a lost bird. She’s over-protected, understimulated and has not been encouraged by her mother to differentiate and create a life of her own. Although Demeter’s love is powerful it’s not enough to keep "the world out" and Persephone is taken by Hades because he needs someone to possess that will stay with him and love him back. Hades might not be ultimately evil, but he is dark, hidden and doesn't ask for permission. He’s also lonely and needs someone to share his darkness and passion with.

It seems like Persephone became feared as she matured. Her time spent in the underworld transformed her into something fascinating and destructive, as someone of her own authority, yet ultimately a slave to her own fate as a captive. Being under other people’s supervision throughout her life, although she might’ve agreed to it on some level, doesn’t make for a fulfilling existence. There’s a loss of self that is irretrievable although surface pleasures and enjoyments can still be carried out.

-

Young women are often drawn to dark/mysterious/criminal men that "do what they want" and claim authority of their own lives. It is very curious, that for some reason, feminine innocence is paired with destructive masculine desire. The dark male falls in love with the lost and bright-eyed maiden. There’s attraction on both ends. There's also often a powerful, controlling and devouring mother that's part of the picture, or a set of strict parents that is obsessively committed to keeping "the bad out". - Of course, it never works.

-

I have noticed that the asteroid Persephone seems to show up prominently in people who have little sense of direction in their own lives and who are forced to surrender to their “dominant supervisors’” wishes because they don’t have anything else to do. They live in their own world, empty vessels, moody, plagued with diffuse longings and romantic notions that never really take shape. They’re strong, compassionate but passive, attempting to preserve their inner world since the outer is dominated by more potent characters. The inner strength is usually considerable although they may give off the vibe of being fragile and weak. They can have a refreshing presence, there’s something fertile about them as well. Usually, their traumas and scars are on the inside rather than the outside which makes them seem youthful and untouched by life. I’ve noticed this with people I’ve met who have Persephone conjunct Sun, Moon, Venus and the North Node, but I will say that these people also have strong Plutonic and Neptunian influences in their charts that could contribute to this theme in their lives.

If any of you have any personal experiences with or observations of this asteroid please share your thoughts in the comments, I’m interested to know!

[tumbling-darkling]

The boy who lived and the professor that didn’t (for the most part)

AO3

During Harry's second year at Hogwarts, a strange and unexpected man starts teaching his Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

(A Danny Phantom X Harry Potter crossover)

Chapter 1

Harry took a seat in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, glancing over to Ron who sat beside him and then scanning the classroom for their new DA professor. He already met the man in Diagon Alley, blonde and very much interested in only himself. Harry shivered as he remembered being pushed towards him as people took pictures of the famous wizard and the boy who lived.

At least it wasn’t worse than a head of the dark lord growing out of the back of the professor's neck.

Well- Harry did thumb through some of the textbooks before classes started. He absolutely agreed with Hermione who was very vocal about the books- they didn’t actually seem to teach anything. Just spoke about the ‘many adventures of Gilderoy Lockhart’.

Maybe this will just end up being an easy class.

The door slammed open 15 minutes past the start of class, startling the students as they swiveled their heads to look at the newcomer, expecting Gilderoy Lockhart.

Instead a tall man with a slim frame and hunched posture strode into the room. He had messy black hair pulled in a very horrible and tangled loose bun with the remaining dreads lazily dangling at the man's shoulders, his chin and cheeks covered in unshaven stubble. His robe was creased and torn, his hat loosely hanging from his hand and his sleeves pushed almost all the way up his arms. What really caught people’s attention was those eyes. Unnaturally clear and bright icy blue, so blue that even in the bright light they seemed to slightly glow.

He quickly pulled down his sleeves as he walked past the students towards the front of the room, grumbling slightly under his breath about something Harry couldn’t catch. He tossed the hat aside, muttering more loudly about how ‘wizard hats are so stupid and impractical I’m not wearing that garbage’ before he turned towards the class.

“My name is Fenton- er Professor Fenton I guess. Since I’ll be teaching you about…” he glanced down at the podium he stood in front of, crouching a little as if looking for something before straightening back up. “Defense… Against the… Dark… Arts,” he said slowly and not very confidently. Then he whispered again to himself but just loud enough for some students to pick up, “they see me fight one god damn ghost and suddenly I’m an expert on all dark magic entities? I think I’ll fight Dumbledore after this.” He straightened a little, eyes looking over the classes.

Harry did not like those eyes lingering on him for half a second longer than the others. He didn’t like this professor looking at him at all.

Something just didn’t feel right.

“Alright, any questions?”

A hand immediately went up, and Harry knew exactly who it belonged to.

“Uh- yes miss-?”

“Hermione Granger. Wasn’t our professor supposed to be Gilderoy Lockhart?”

“Yeah- that guy. He’s a phoney.”

The class went silent before someone yelled out, “WHAT?”

“Guy went around, found Wizards and Witches that did cool things, made them forget it then took all the credit. Tried to take my credit and I hit him a little too hard. Now I’m here taking his place. It’s all over the news, you know. You can read the exaggerated details in there. Anything else?”

The same hand went up.

Professor Fenton sighed, “yes?”

“Why were you 15 minutes late? Shouldn’t professors be on time? And why do you look like you crawled out of the forbidden forest.”

“I fought a ghost. Then got lost,” Fenton deadpanned.

The class went silent.

Fenton then turned around, “well if that’s all, let’s get started with something I know a lot about. What do you already know about Ghosts?”

-

-

-

“You’re seriously more afraid of Professor Fenton than Professor Snape?” Hermione asked Ron. “He’s not even mean! Sure he’s grumpy but he doesn’t beat down every question I ask him! He even seems to be glad I’m asking questions! Unlike Professor Snape who just treats us like idiots for not knowing something.”

“Sure- he’s not mean or cruel but… he just freaks me out. Like how he just stares sometimes at empty walls! Or how the room temperature always drops the moment he seems to take a single step into the room! I can’t even hear his footsteps when he walks! He’s bloody freaky is what he is!”

“Well I for one am glad he’s our Professor! Imagine having a phony for a professor! Though he talks a lot about ghosts. Ghosts can’t cause people harm. At most they give a little scare but it’s not like they could cause terrible damage.”

“What about those ectoplasm based ones he was talking about? The solid ones?” Harry asked.

“Rare and unlikely. Ectoplasm doesn’t form in the magical world, Harry! The stuff that leaks through and hangs in the air is only enough to allow ghosts like Nick or Myrtle to hang around in harmless ways.”

“But he said he fought a ghost before he arrived in class! And he looked really beat up!”

“He said he got lost too! Maybe he just stumbled across a guard dog like Fluffy and made up something about ghosts!”

“What if it’s like the last professor though? What if he’s looking for another secret object in Hogwarts walls?” Harry hissed softly, “Ron is right that he just has a sense of oddness about him! I just don’t trust him!”

“Harry, you’re just paranoid from last year. Professor Fenton is normal. Now pick up your pace, we’re going to be late for our next class!”

-

-

-

Professor Fenton glanced down at Harry, then back at Professor McGonagall, “he has what with me?”

“Detention. You see, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley caused a bit of a fuss by driving a flying car in plain sight of several muggles, and risked exposing the magical world. As such, his punishment has been detention. I trust you can find some fitting work for him to do as he reflects on his actions?”

Fenton crosses his arms, his mouth tightening slightly into a grimace as his fingers slightly tapped his own arms. “This won’t be every night, will it?” He asked.

“No, we will be switching supervisors for a few weeks but you may also need to supervise Mr. Weasley sometime before then.”

Fenron let out a sigh of defeat, “well- alright. I’ll take care of it then.”

Professor McGonagall gave a curt nod before turning stiffly and walking off. Professor Fenton scratched at the back of his neck as he watched her walk off, then glanced down at Harry, those eyes seeming to search him for… something. Then that stern look relaxed into a lopsided grin, “So you were the one that made that stuck up ministry trip over their hats and scramble around in blind panic! I say, hats off to you young Potter!” He laughed.

Harry blinked in confusion at the shift in mood, then Fenton patted him on the back, “hey, no need to look so freaked out! I’m not gonna bite ya!” He began walking forward, and it took Harry an extra second to realize that the professor was moving and he should follow. “Oh, wait you probably are a little freaked out, huh? I guess my mood could have been a bit better this morning, I was just a little flabbergasted today. I was kinda rushed into this position, you know.” He shrugged, his hands shoved into his cloak’s pockets. He didn’t really walk like any of the other Hogwarts professors. He had this relaxed saunter, like he was more of a visiting relative than a staff member. “Say, let’s say your ‘punishment’ will just be helping me bring some books from the library to my quarters. There’s a lot I need to run through and a single trip would make all the difference.”

Harry nodded, finding it hard to keep up with the man's long strides. “So… you don’t like the ministry of magic?” Harry asked.

Professor Fenton huffed in annoyance, “not one bit. They are almost worse than observants!” Harry had no idea what those were. Another level of magic government? “They try to control every little thing. Don’t expose magic to the normal world. Don’t use magic to make technology without permission. Don’t use magic to save muggle children if people are watching.” His said in a mocking tone, “they have so many rules that are outdated or stupid. Never trust a government, kid! Especially a magical one!”

“What are… observants?”

Fenton glanced down at Harry, “oh those stuck up jerks? They are like the government of the ghost realm. Really annoying. Unlike the Ministry of Magic, they actually know how to find me!” He laughed.

“Ghosts have governments?”

“Oh yeah! They have more of a monarchy, the observants are like hermit wizards that only step in when they believe the world is in peril. Meanwhile the rest falls on the shoulders of the Ghost King.”

Harry frowned, “I’ve never read about that in the textbooks. Hermione says that ghosts are just harmless beings formed from souls that aren’t ready to leave the mortal realm.”

“Well she’s half right. There’s different kinds of ghosts, like Sir Nicolas and the Bloody Baron. They are more like echoes. Souls that cling desperately to this world but didn’t have enough ectoplasm to become a fully solid ectoplasmic being. They won’t leave for the infinite realms until they are ready, though many believe they are trapped here forever. More solid ghosts form in a similar way but are exposed to more ectoplasm, but rarely show up because natural portals to the infinite realms are sparse and in between. Well until about a decade ago.”

“Infinite Realms? Natural Portals?” Harry felt like his head was going to explode.

“Well, there should be some books about that in the muggle section.. Though some wizards would say it’s all garbage because muggles discovered and studied it. Just look up my name under the author and you should find some.”

“Oh… wait- did you write them? Is that why you know so much about ghosts?”

Professor Fenton barked out a loud laugh, doubling over as he clutched his sides, “Ah! No! No, I didn’t write them! My parents did!” He cackled. “Ah, yeah but I did learn from them. And a bit of field work. Tell Miss Granger to check them out too, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind having something to read. She reminds me of my sister in that way.” He stopped in front of the library doors, “Aha! I knew we would find this place eventually!”

Harry looked at Professor Fenton in bewilderment, “you didn’t know where we were going?!”

Fenton shook his head and shot him another grin, “nope! I’ve been constantly getting lost in these dumb halls. This place constantly moves and I absolutely hate it. Even the Infinite Realms make more sense than this castle!”

Harry stuttered, “If the infinite realms is where ghosts go, isn’t that like… the afterlife? You’ve been to the afterlife?”

Professor Fenton lazily shrugged and opened the doors to the library, “yes and no. It’s all complicated. I’ll tell you a different time.”

Harry stood there for a few more seconds as his brain tried to catch up with the information, and once he managed to close his mouth he chased after the Professor.

-

-

-

Harry glanced around the Professors room as he followed after him, arms filled with books that seemed to suspiciously be only about the Dark Arts. He’d never been to a professor's living quarters, at most he had been in some offices. Even so, it was not at all what he imagined a wizard's living quarters would look like.

First off, there seemed to be technology. He recognized a coffee machine on a low table, but it wasn’t plugged into anything. There was an odd box that looked like a slightly smaller television, it’s screen black and wires sticking out of it attached to a rectangular box with a lot of buttons on top of it and a small round device. There was also a radio, and a huge telescope leaning out the largest window. As Harry looked, he began to notice spaceships literally in every corner of the room. Different kinds as well, some would even move and blast off. The most amazing part was the roof of his room. It was almost exactly like the great hall as it rose into dark nothingness, but the stars were MUCH brighter and all the constellations had been traced out, some brighter than others. For someone who knew a lot about ghosts, he seemed to really like space. Then there were also some odd things thrown around, like a very weird looking thermos. Or a metal… boomerang?

“Just place them over here, Harry!” Fenton called as he dropped his pile of books onto a couch in the corner. Harry did as he was told, placing the books down a little more gently than the professor did.

“Professor… how did you get these things to work? Technology usually… explodes around magic,” Harry asked.

“Oh! Well it’s because I power them myself!” Professor Fenton chirped. “They don’t work the same way as regular technology. Again, I recommend checking out some of the notes in the Fentons books, they have a lot of stuff that works in the magical realm.”

“Why would you need it though? Doesn’t magic make up for a lot of technology?” Harry asked.

“Ah, but that’s where you are wrong you see! There is nothing in the magical world that is equivalent to the coffee machine!”

Harry blinked, “... what.”

“It’s a very important machine, Harry. You will depend greatly on it once you need to stay up for an entire week. But! It seems our time together has come to an end. Thanks for your help, Harry, and if McGonagall asks, tell her I made you scrub toilets or something,” he winked.

Harry grinned back, heading towards the doorway to go find Ron and Hermione. He closed the door behind and the moment it clicked shut, he saw a flash appear from under the door.

He paused slightly, but shrugged. Maybe a comet passed by on the enchanted roof of his room. He then headed down the halls to find his friends.

-

-

-

“Not normally invited?” Harry asked.

Hermione nodded, “Ghosts throw death day parties like birthday parties, but rarely do they ever invite living people!”

“I see, so Sir Nick really wanted us to be there,” Harry pondered as the trio entered the party area. He immediately was hit with an awful stench, nearly gagging before he had to swallow it as Sir Nicholas noticed their arrival and approached swiftly with the widest smile they had ever seen on his face.

“Harry! Ron! Hermione! You all made it! Oh this brings such joy to my cold, dead heart!”

“Glad to see you as well, Sir Nick,” Harry struggled not to gag on the smell.

“Say, why do ghosts even celebrate the day they died? Isn’t that… like a very traumatic experience you would rather not remember?” Ron somehow managed to ask.

“Well, ghosts like to celebrate it to commodirate a start to a new chapter of our afterlife!” He paused, glancing across the room for a split second, “most ghosts that is, and the death day isn’t to remind us of our death. It more serves to encourage us to look forward! No one really wants to remember how we died. Never a pretty picture.”

Harry followed Nicholas’s gaze for the split second glance, then noticed a ghost he had never seen before. He ignored the smell (they would have to ask about that later) and nudged Hermione, pointing at the ghost, “hey Hermione, have you ever seen that ghost around the castle before? I don’t remember seeing him from last year…”

The ghost in question seemed so much stranger than the rest, he had a brighter glow, where he should have had legs, merged into what seemed to be a ghostly tail, drifting lazily like caught in a breeze. Long hair whiter than snow itself drifted around like caught underwater, and bits that weren’t drifting were braided neatly and lost in the rest of it as it constantly moved. The ghost had purple skin, pointed ears, green freckles dotting his cheeks and long sharp fangs showing as he laughed at another ghost's joke. He dressed like a medieval lord, wearing a delicately detailed black and white tunic tucked into a braided belt circling his waist, his ghostly tail completely black. Thick white leather gloves covered both his hands as he waved them around while he spoke. A white cape hung off his shoulders, but when the cape occasionally drifted to show the inside, it was like the ghost had taken the night sky and attached it to the garment. Thick fur wrapped around his shoulders and long and sharp horns that looked like ice circled his head like a crown.

Toxic green eyes that had irises that seemed to swirl around the pupil glanced at the trio and Harry suddenly felt very very small.

“I… don’t know. I haven’t even heard of any ghost that looked like him before,” Hermione seemed like she was at a loss, probably scouting through her thoughts and memories for any trace or mention of the unfamiliar ghost.

Sir Nicholas cut in, “oh! That may be because King Phantom doesn’t live in this castle! He’s mainly only here to visit for the year!”

Ron gapped, “... did you say… king? Was he a king before he died?”

Sir Nicholas frowned, “no, of course not! He’s the king of all ghosts! King of the infinite realms! The one who defeated Pariah Dark in single combat barely a year after he died! The youngest and most beloved king we ghosts have had in such a very long time.”

“There’s a king of ghosts? And that’s him?” Harry asked.

“That’s what I just said, my dear boy. Keep up!”

“I don’t want to seem rude, Sir Nicholas but… why is he here?” Hermione gasped, “if he really is such a powerful and imposing figure, doesn’t he have a lot of duties to fulfil?”

“Well, he told us he was technically here on business but that it requires time and an investigation that could take a few months. So he could visit and celebrate with us from time to time! He’s a very relaxed man, I assure you. Here let me introduce you all to him! My Liege! I have some friends you absolutely must meet!”

The King looked over and smiled widely, “friends, you say?” His voice echoed more than the other ghosts, seeming to carry across the room as he spoke. He then blinked in surprise and turned to Nick, “Sir Nicholas… you realize these three are still amongst the living?”

“Why of course! Harry is the Boy Who Lived! The first to survive the death spell!” Sir Nicholas said quite proudly.

The King drifted down towards the three, causing Ron to slightly flinch at his approach, his hands clasped together as worry seemed to etch on his face, “well, most ghosts don’t have a very good sense of smell or taste, right? Which is why we have all the rotting food out?”

“Yes?” Sir Nicholas still didn’t seem to catch on.

King Phantom held out his hand, producing clothing hanger clips made purely of ice, “The living can still very much smell and taste, and I don’t think it’s exactly the smell of roses and lavender.”

Sir Nicholas blinked, “oh. Oh! Oh Harry and friends, I apologize for forgetting such a detail!”

Harry, Ron and Hermione all graciously accept the clips, pinning them on their noses to escape the horrid smell. Then Hermione turned towards the Ghost King with a glint in her eyes, “wait- how did you do that? Ghosts aren’t this solid- and they definitely can’t use magic!”

Phantom chuckled, drifting back into the air as he pointed to the crown of ice horns on his head, “Well first off, I’m the king so I get some bonuses. As well as not all ghosts work the same. You should try listening to that Dark Arts professor of yours when he talks about ghosts. He’s quite knowledgeable about all things not living.”

“But- but years of documentation and research-!” Hermione tried to argue before the King tutted.

“Information is constantly changing and growing, something that seems pretty constant could change in seconds and turn your whole world upside down. Not to mention, many different types of ghosts like myself only became more common recently. Before, most of us were confined to the infinite realms, only ghosts like Sir Nicholas forming for many centuries and the different kinds rarely slipped out.”

“Well-, what changed?” Hermione challenged.

King Phantom sported a playful grin, “I d̶͙͉̓̓i̷̢̩̬̘̟̽ę̴̘̲̹̤͌̊d̸̢̳̞̄.”

He then turned and left the three on that note as he went to join other ghosts at the party.

“What does he mean by that?” Hermione huffed.

“He’s got an odd sense of humour, that’s for sure,” Sir Nicholas laughed.

-

-

-

Harry couldn’t stop his glare that shot towards Professor Snape as he accused Harry of petrifying Mrs. Norris and writing the bloody message that stained the wall. Before he could snap back at him that he did not do any of this, Professor Fenton seemed to almost step out of thin air to his defense.

“Mr. Potter was with me all night, he did not do this,” his voice laced with a chilling venom. Was he… lying for him?

Snape tilted his chin up, attempting to look down on Fenton who was no longer hunched, and instead stood tall at his full height. It was quite difficult to do as it turned out, Fenton towered over every other Professor in the area. “And who, pray tell, are you?” Snape seemed to almost spit.

A sinister grin spread across the tall Professor's features as he stepped in front of Harry, leaning menacingly over the shorter wizard and blocking his view of the student, “Professor Fenton, the professor of the Dark Arts. Accusing a second year of such a powerful spell isn’t a very wise take, now is it Professor Snape?” Fenton basically spat his name.

Snape glared back, “you would be surprised what Potter is capable of, especially the trouble he gets himself in.”

“How about you try not pinning the blame on a 12 year old child?”

“That is enough out of both of you,” Dumbledore stepped in. “We all know Harry was not responsible for this, as Professor Fenton’s defence is true. We have a healthy patch of mandrake roots that will cure Mrs. Norris of her petrification, and students will resume their classes while the professors investigate the issue. Now you three will return to your dorms for the rest of the night.”

Harry hesitated before he headed back towards the dorms, but didn’t fail to notice how Professor Fenton’s eyes flashed toxic green, or the wink sent in his direction.

[reasonsilovemywife]

Update On Our Granddaughter

Most of you know that we’ve been raising one of our granddaughters.  She’s been with us since she was born, in 2012.  Through a series of bad decisions on her mothers part, we were awarded guardianship in 2014.  In 2019 her mother filed a motion to terminate guardianship.  We’ve been fighting it ever since. Well, on the First of February, after years of back and forth and cancellations and reschedules the courts awarded my beautiful bride and I full, sole, complete, legal and physical custody of “A”.  “A”s mother hadn’t even called since March 12, 2021.  That had a lot to do with it, I think.  There are some concessions we had to make to make sure the judge agreed.  But honestly, it’s nothing more than we had been saying from the beginning.  Supervised visits, supervised by a professional state certified supervisor and not in our home.  Weekly scheduled phone calls.  Which is odd, because we never once said or prevented her from calling.  So whatever.  One thing about the visits we made sure to include is that “A” has the power to end the visit or phone call whenever she wants.  We didn’t want to be in the position to drag her kicking and screaming into a situation she didn’t want to be in.  If we try to teach our children (our daughters especially) that their body is theirs we can’t then force them into these situations and act all surprised .... never mind.  I’m not even going to say it.   We’re trying to raise a strong woman whose thoughts, opinions, ideas count.  Who expects to have her voice heard and not deal with those who won’t listen.  

[fruitcoops]

Hey, I love your writing! Could you maybe do like Marlene makes Sirius and Remus do the boyfriend tag for the lions media page and the questions are just a mix of cute, normal things and then really really not so cute normal things 👀

I may have gotten a little carried away with this ideas, whoops! There isn’t much ~spicy~ stuff here, but if you guys liked it I’ll do a part 2! Writing this was easily the best part of my day. Credit for Coops and Sweater Weather goes to @lumosinlove!

“Hello, everyone, I’m Dorcas Meadowes, and welcome back to Lion Pride!” Dorcas smiled at the camera and waved. “Today I’m here with team captain Sirius Black and our newest player, Remus Lupin, for the boyfriend tag. They’ll be asking each other a series of questions and they are legally obligated to answer honestly!”

“Wait, really?” Remus asked, his eyes wide.

“No, but it’s a good idea anyway.” Dorcas shuffled the small stack of notecards in her hands and passed half to each of them. “I’m here to supervise and clarify if you need it.”

“Alright, first question: how did we meet?” Sirius grinned. “Take your time on this one.”

“We met in the PT room before I was formally introduced to the team because Pots unscrewed the lids of the Gatorade bottles and the spout hit you in the eye.”

“Oh my god, I forgot about that!” Sirius turned to the camera. “Watch out, Pots, vengeance is coming.”

“Question number two,” Remus laughed. “If we’re going out to eat, where are we going?”

“Sid’s.” They said in unison.

“Number three: What’s one food I don’t like?”

Remus paused and bit his lip. “That’s a tough one. You’re kind of like a black hole for food. Uh, maybe pickles?”

“Yeah, I hate pickles.” Sirius shuddered dramatically. “Leave the poor zucchini alone.”

“Pickles are made from cucumbers.”

“Same difference.”

“No, it’s not!”

“Moving on!” Dorcas interrupted. “Remus, you’re up.”

“This is why we need a supervisor,” he said to the camera. “Okay, question four. How many siblings do I have?”

Sirius lit up and beamed at him. “One! Jules!”

“Your number-one fan,” Remus teased.

Sirius glanced down at the next card and barked out a laugh. “Oh, I’m going to get roasted so hard here. Am I a morning person or a night person?”

“You are the earliest early bird of all time and it’s terrible,” Remus groaned. “Six a.m. rolls around and he’s wide awake while I’m barely a person until eight, and that’s assuming I’ve had coffee.”

“You’re the cutest zombie I’ve ever seen at seven in the morning,” Sirius said.

“Aw, babe. Question six: what’s our song?”

Sirius thought for a moment. “Hmm, I don’t know.”

“I was going to say, I don’t think we have one yet.”

“We’re taking suggestions if anyone has ideas,” Sirius said to the camera. “What’s my best friend’s name.”

“Harry Potter,” Remus answered without hesitating. “You only like Pots for his baby.”

“True.”

Remus started to read the next card, then looked to Dorcas. “Do I have to ask this one?”

“Yes!”

“Cover your ears, everyone. What’s my nickname?”

“LOOPS!” Sirius shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “But to me it’s mon loup. What’s my weirdest habit?”

Remus dropped his face into his hands. “Your order of operations. To anyone out there who still thinks Sirius Black is cool—stop kicking me!—last night he got stuck in his t-shirt because he was brushing his teeth at the same time.”

“It’s efficient!” Sirius protested, poking him in the calf one more time. “You don’t appreciate me.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Remus kissed him on the cheek. “Okay, what’s one of my special talents?”

“Hockey.”

“That doesn’t count,” Dorcas said.

“Bummer. You can sing really well.”

Remus’ ears went pink. “I don’t know about really well.”

“You do it all the time!”

“That doesn’t mean I’m good at it!” They both laughed until Dorcas cleared her throat.

“Sorry, sorry. Question number…something. If you were baking me a birthday cake, what flavor would it be?”

Remus snorted. “Bold of you to assume I can bake. But if I could, I’d do a vanilla cake with chocolate frosting.”

“You’d steal all the frosting off it, wouldn’t you.”

“Oh, definitely. Next question! Where was I born?”

Sirius was quiet for a solid ten seconds. “…Wisconsin?”

“What, the entire state?”

“I know you were born in a hospital.”

“Do you have any idea how many Wisconsin hospitals there are?”

“Well, you were only born in one of them.” Sirius shrugged. “I give up, what city?”

“I’m not telling you. You can call my mom and ask when we’re done here.”

“She’d tease me for days. I’ll get it out of you eventually.” Sirius shook his head and turned back to the cards. “Oh, here’s a good one: could you tell I liked you?”

Remus burst out laughing. “Are you kidding me? No!”

Sirius turned to face the camera. “If anyone out there doesn’t know the whole situation, we basically just stared at each other for, like, a year before anything happened.”

“I think the first time I started picking up on it was when I came back from vacation and got a fifteen-second hug from this one,” Remus said, pointing his thumb toward Sirius. “At that point I kind of went ‘…wait a minute’.”

“Let’s do the next question before you spill any more embarrassing stories.” Remus’ smile turned sharp. “Oh, no.”

“What was your first impression of me?”

“Hot.” Sirius’ eyebrows shot up. “Woah, I said that way too fast, didn’t I?”

“A little bit, but I appreciate it.”

“Are you comfortable with PDA?” Sirius looked over at Dorcas. In lieu of an answer, Remus scooted over on their shared couch and settled down in Sirius’ lap. “Hello.”

“Hi. As you can see, I can’t stand it if you even breathe on me in public.”

“God forbid we make eye contact.”

“In all honesty, I think we’ve already crossed the PDA bridge,” Remus said. “Once pictures of you and your boyfriend making out go viral, there’s really no incentive to tone it down. My turn: who’s my favorite musician?”

“Fucking ABBA.” Sirius let his head fall on the back of the couch. “Sorry, I mean ABBA.” Remus started whistling the intro to ‘Gimme, Gimme, Gimme’ and Sirius scrambled for his notecards. “What’s my favorite time of the year?”

It took Remus a minute to catch his breath from laughing. “Uh, fall. Autumn. We have the same favorite, actually.”

“It’s a great season. You get hockey, big sweaters, and there’s still a little bit of sunshine.”

“Halloween, too,” Remus added. “Oh, shit, you’re going to have a field day with this one. What word do I use the most?”

“Jeez.” Sirius gave him a big smooch on the cheek. “Such a Midwesterner. Where was our first kiss?”

“Pascal Dumais’ guest room, on a dark and stormy night,’ Remus said. “We got snowed in for Sirius’ birthday party.”

“It was really romantic though.”

“Yeah.” Remus planted a quick kiss on his lips before grabbing the next card. “Who would win in an argument?”

“What’s the argument about?” Sirius asked. “Dorcas, is there a specification?”

“I think we trade off,” Remus mused. “We don’t fight much.”

“Nah. Kissing or cuddling?”

“What about it?”

“Which one do each of you prefer?” Dorcas clarified. She hadn’t stopped smiling since the interview started.

“Ohhhhh.” Remus readjusted himself in Sirius’ lap so he was leaning against the armrest more. “I mean, both are great.”

“Agreed.”

“Last question for me!” Remus waved his final notecard in Sirius’ face. “How would you describe my style? Tread carefully, Cap.”

Sirius thought hard for a moment. “This is a dangerous question, Dorcas. Um, you’re going to hate me for this.”

“Spit it out, Black.”

“Sexy librarian?”

“Fuck off.”

“See! I told you!”

“Sexy librarian? Really? At least I own clothing other than monochrome t-shirts!”

“I have my game day suit, too.”

“…the suit is nice.”

Dorcas was laughing too hard to get them back on track, so Marlene had to motion at them from behind the camera. “Sorry, Marlene, we’ll finish up. Okay, Fruit Loop, am I a dog or a cat person?”

“I think you love dogs more than you love me,” Remus said. “You don’t hate cats, though.”

“First of all, that’s not true, I love you most.” Sirius kissed him soundly on the lips. “Second of all, Regulus is enough of a cat person for both of us.”

“I was genuinely afraid we’d come home and find out he’d adopted eight kittens while he was still living with us. Dorcas, is that it?”

“That’s it,” she confirmed, still dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “Great job, you guys killed it. Thanks for watching everyone, and make sure to stay updated with Lion Pride social media!”

[pikapeppa]

Abelas/Lavellan modern AU: Competent Professional

Chapter 2 of Inadvisable (professor Solas AU) is up on AO3!

In which Athera Lavellan starts her new research coordinator job with Professor Abelas on the wrong right foot.

Adorable art by my elf-lusting partner in crime @elbenherzart​!

~3000 words; read on AO3 instead.

- ATHERA -

Athera ran all the way from the apartment to the University of Orlais. Thankfully, it was only a twenty-minute walk, and by running she was able to cut the travel time almost in half. Still, showing up at her new job all sweaty and out of breath had not exactly been her plan. 

She skidded to a stop in front of the history building and paused and to catch her breath. When she was no longer huffing and puffing like a bronto, she straightened up and smoothed back her hair. “Okay,” she muttered to herself. “You can do this. You’re a competent professional woman. They hired you for a reason.” No matter that she’d never actually worked as a research coordinator before. 

Sure, she’d done all the duties of a research coordinator during the last couple years of working in Professor Kenric’s lab at Kirkwall University, but technically she’d still been a research assistant and not the coordinator, even if Kenric’s actual coordinator had been useless most of the time. 

Athera squared her shoulders. I’m done with that, she told herself. I’m the coordinator now. She would be taking her new job super seriously, and she wasn’t going to be forcing any of the research assistants to do her work for her. 

“You’ll be the best research coordinator Professor Abelas has ever had,” she told herself quietly. She quickly checked her watch — two minutes to spare, thank the Creators — and thus boosted, she made her way up the stairs and into the history building. 

She headed down the east wing, following the shiny new signs for the Ancient Elvhen Studies program. The program was relatively new at the University of Orlais, having only been established about five years ago. Even in that short time, it had become both famous and controversial. The Ancient Elvhen Studies program was technically part of U of O’s history department, but even that placement had been something of a controversy since the program encapsulated a range of disciplines including history, art, literature, and even traditional healing. 

When the University of Arlathan had finally agreed to collaborate with U of O, the Dean had originally wanted the program to be part of the school of fine arts. But Athera had heard that Professor Solas, Nare’s new supervisor, had insisted that they be situated in the department of history, and had refused to work at U of O unless the placement was made. 

Athera had also heard that Professor Solas had a reputation for being… mercurial, for lack of a better word. Aside from his impressive credentials and his famous fresco work, there was shockingly little personal information about him on the internet. Student reviews fluctuated between compliments like ‘he knows the answer to everything even though he’s an arts prof’ and complaints such as ‘he never gives an A’, studded with a few scathing reports that he could be a downright asshole when people asked questions that he thought were stupid. 

But Professor Solas wasn’t the one that Athera was worried about. Professor Abelas, the program’s director and the head professor of literature and history, was the one that Athera would be directly answering to, and he was the one that she most wanted to impress. 

She still remembered their phone interview with a certain amount of trepidation. She was pretty sure she hadn’t said anything stupid, and she’d made sure to not talk too fast so she didn’t sound nervous, but Abelas’s tone still sounded faintly disapproving the whole time. 

Maybe that’s just how he always sounds, she thought. She hoped that he didn’t always sound that way, since it wouldn’t  exactly be fun to work with someone who always sounded slightly disappointed with everything she said.

In any case, it was sure to be an interesting job.

A minute later, she was facing the door to the Ancient Elvhen Studies lab. She took a deep breath — you’ve got this, you’re a competent professional, she told herself — then pushed open the door. 

The lab space was pretty standard university fare: a main area with a large meeting table, filing cabinets and heavily laden bookshelves around the edges of the wall, a couple of impressively tidy common-workspace desks, and a small kitchenette. Two short hallways branched off of the main room toward the east and west, and there were three people sitting at the meeting table: two elves, and to Athera’s surprise, a dwarf. 

They looked up at Athera’s entry. Athera smiled and tried not to look awkward. “Hi there,” she said. “I’m Athera, the new research coordinator.”

The petite elven woman hopped up from her seat. “Oh, another Dalish, how lovely!” she chirped. “Andaran atishan! Come on in, Professor Abelas will be expecting you, he’s just in his office.” She hurried around the table with her hand outstretched. “I’m Merrill, and this is Tamlen and Dagna. I’m in the fourth year of my PhD, and Tamlen is – oh, but listen to me babbling!” She patted her cheeks nervously. “You two should introduce yourselves!”

Tamlen chuckled and nodded a greeting to Athera. “Nice to meet you. I’m a part-time research assistant, doing my undergrad the rest of the time.”

Dagna waved cheerily to her. “I’m a PhD student too. Second year.”

Athera was already feeling more relaxed; they all seemed so nice. “Nice to meet all of you,” she said. “Are you Abelas’s students?”

Tamlen smirked, and Dagna let out a tinkling laugh. “Oh no, Professor Abelas doesn’t supervise students. Solas is our supervisor.”

Athera raised her eyebrows. “Abelas doesn’t supervise students?”

Merrill shook her head. “No. Too busy teaching and being the director, he says.”

Athera raised an eyebrow. “But he’s a tenured professor. How can he be tenured and not supervise students?”

Merrill, Dagna and Tamlen exchanged glances, and Merrill replied. “We don’t really know, to be honest. Professor Abelas runs the department and Professor Solas does the supervisor duties.”

Athera frowned. “That’s… really weird.”

“It has been working well since this program began,” a deep male voice said.

A hard stone dropped into Athera’s gut. Damn, she thought. She looked up at the east hallway to see a tall elven man standing there with his arms folded. 

He was surprisingly built for an academic, with broad muscular shoulders that his tweed blazer didn’t quite manage to hide. An impeccable white braid coursed down his back — probably the style in Arlathan, Athera thought, since it certainly wasn’t a look she’d ever seen in Orlais — and he was very handsome. 

Or he would be, if he wasn’t scowling at her. Unfortunately for Athera, his expression was just as disapproving as his smooth voice. 

She swallowed hard. You’re a professional woman, she told herself. Even if you insulted his management style right in front of him. She offered him what she hoped was a professional smile. “You must be Abelas,” she said, and she took a step toward him. “I’m Athera, the research coordinator.”

“It is Professor Abelas,” he said. “Come this way. I will orient you to the lab.” He unfolded his arms and raised his eyebrows at Merrill, Dagna and Tamlen. “You have introduced yourselves?”

“Yes, professor,” Tamlen said. 

Abelas nodded, then gestured for Athera to follow him and headed for the west hallway without stopping to check that she was following. 

Damn and double damn, Athera thought gloomily. She forced herself not to look at Merrill and the others as she followed Abelas down the west hallway. 

He gestured at a few closed doors. “These are graduate student offices,” he said brusquely. “A meeting room here for interviewing research participants. That room is the private library, including hard copies of research articles from the past ten years that are awaiting digitization and proper indexing.” He shot her a hard look. “Managing that will be one of your duties.”

“I’m aware,” she said, a bit more sharply than she intended.

His frown deepened slightly, and Athera forced herself to relax. “I’ll make that a priority,” she said in a softer tone. 

He nodded, then pointed at a polished oak door at the end of the hall. “Professor Solas’s office is there.” He gestured for her to exit the hallway, and she obediently headed back down the hall toward the east hallway instead, with Abelas — sorry, Professor Abelas — at her back. 

She tried to think of something intelligent to say, some sort of question that would make it clear that she knew her duties here, but her tongue was tied with awkwardness. Professor Abelas was so silent and stern, and his height was kind of intimidating, making her feel as though he was towering over her as he followed her down the hall. 

When they were in the east hallway once more, he broke the tense silence. “More graduate student offices here. An archive of Elvhen artifacts is in this room, which is kept locked at all times.” He pursed his lips before going on. “I will give you a key by the end of the week. In the meantime, you will ask me if you require access to that room.” 

Athera frowned slightly. Why was he reluctant to give her access to the artifact room? She would need free access to all of these rooms if he wanted her to do her job properly. 

“My office is at the end of this hall,” he said. He gestured for her to follow him. “You should check with me before making any significant changes to the way things are run here.” 

“I understand,” she said cautiously. She followed him into his office, which – unsurprisingly – was spotlessly clean and tidy. Austere, almost.

He sidled around his desk and pointed to a large whiteboard calendar on the wall, which was meticulously colour-coded. “Professor Solas and I have a shared calendar here. Our teaching schedules and monthly meetings are updated here, so you will know where we are at all times.”

“Why don’t you use an online calendar?” she asked.

His pale eyebrows rose slightly. “Excuse me?”

“An online calendar,” she said. “So you can share it between you and update it on your, um, on your phones…?” She trailed off at the deepening of his frown.

“Professor Solas and I have a system that has worked for over a decade,” he said. “We will continue to do it this way.”

She pressed her lips together, then nodded. If he wanted to live in the Exalted Age and use a whiteboard calendar, that was his prerogative.

He rested his fingertips lightly on his desk. “The students similarly use a whiteboard calendar to coordinate the use of the meeting room and other resources.”

Athera raised her eyebrows. “Okay, well, that just makes no sense. That has to change.”

Abelas recoiled slightly, but Athera pressed on. “Students’ schedules are changing all the time. With exams and deadlines, a shared online calendar only makes sense so they can input any changes immediately and have notifs — uh, notifications — to alert everyone to the changes. I’ll set that up immediately.”

“I did not give you leave to make such a change,” he said sharply.

“It’s a simple change that will streamline everyone’s schedules and increase the efficiency of your lab,” Athera insisted.

“That’s not how things are done here,” he retorted.

His tone was hard, and he was scowling at her now. The look on his face was making her heart race, but she inhaled slowly through her nose to keep her calm.

You’re a competent professional, she told herself. You might not have a fancy PhD and a post-doc and an entire lab under your belt, but you’re a professional too, damn it. 

She boldly lifted her chin. “You hired me to manage the research projects in your lab and to take over a number of your administrative duties. Isn’t that right?”

He folded his arms. “That was indeed the job description.”

“If that’s my job, why don’t you trust me to do it?”

“You lack experience,” he said, to her surprise and dismay. “And besides, hiring you was not my choice. Professor Solas insisted that I required… assistance.”

Athera recoiled slightly at this. “Well, I’m not here to be your assistant,” she said firmly. “I’m not here to just do what you tell me. I’ll evaluate the way your lab is managed, and when I’m finished doing that, I’ll tell you how I think things should change.”

He glared at her. His unusual golden eyes were practically sparking now, his long elegant fingers tense on the surface of his desk, and Athera forced herself to breathe through her anxiety as she stared into his eyes.

He finally grunted and sat in his chair. “Fine. But you will change nothing without consulting me first.”

She exhaled slowly. “I’ll check everything with you for the first two weeks. You should let me use my judgment after that.”

He narrowed his golden eyes. “You are making a great number of demands considering that it is your first day here.”

And you’re being an ass, considering that it’s my first day, she thought belligerently, but she kept that salty thought to herself. “I’m just trying to do my job,” she said evenly. “A job that you hired me for, whether you wanted to or not.” She gave him a knowing look. “I’m going to make your life easier, you know.”

“That remains to be seen,” he said. He reached for his mouse and started clicking around on his computer. “I look forward to the results of your… evaluation.”

His tone was dripping with disdain. What in the Void was his problem with her? 

“I’ll get to work, then,” she said. She shifted her bag on her shoulder, then realized something: she needed someplace to put her things, and to, well, do her job. 

“Where’s my office?” she said.

“Ah,” he said. “An oversight. Here.” He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a key, then held it out to her. 

She approached the desk and held out her hand, and Abelas placed the key in her palm. “The office next to this one is yours,” he said.

Of course it is, she thought glumly. Of course her office had to be right next to the grumpy director’s. 

“Thank you,” she said. She took a step back, then toyed idly with the key for a moment. This whole meeting had been unfortunately antagonistic so far, and Athera didn’t want to leave it on such a sour note.

She decided to try to lighten the mood a bit. “If we’re going to be neighbours, I hope you don’t mind music,” she said. 

A crease appeared between his brows. “Excuse me?”

“Music,” she said. “I listen to music all the time. It helps me to think. I, um, hope you don’t mind.”

His frown deepened. “What sort of music?”

“Dance music, mostly,” Athera said. “Pop, too, though I like more of the indie stuff.”

“Dance and pop music,” he repeated. 

He was staring at her now as though she’d grown qunari horns. She could feel her face prickling with discomfort. Why had she even bothered trying to lighten the mood with him? He clearly didn’t have a humorous bone in his body. 

She tried for a smile. “I’ll keep the volume down for now.” 

“That would be for the best,” he said.

She nodded and awkwardly backed out of his office. “Thanks for the orientation, Abelas. Professor Abelas,” she said hastily. 

He nodded. Already his eyes were on his computer screen, and Athera blew out a breath as she started unlocking her new office door. 

“Athera,” he called.

For some reason, a shiver traced down her spine at the sound of her name in his voice. She’d never heard her name before in an Arlathani accent, with the soft vowels and the gently rolled r. 

She swallowed hard and poked her head back in his office. “Yes?”

“Close the door behind you,” he said.

His eyes were still on his monitor. Athera frowned at his bluntness, then pulled his door shut without replying. 

Ass, she thought. She opened her office and put her bag on the desk next to the computer, then draped her coat over the chair and trudged down the hall back to the main area.

Merrill and Dagna were still there, and their faces were sympathetic. “Don’t worry,” Dagna said soothingly. “His bark is much worse than his bite.”

“I cried on my first day here,” Merrill confided. “During my whole first week, actually. I have an extra box of tissues in my desk if you need them.”

Athera chuckled. “Thanks, but I’m okay. I’m just going to jump right in and get to work.”

Merrill beamed at her. “That’s the spirit! And it really is exciting to work here. The artifacts they have in the back room are just amazing! I’m doing my thesis on one of them, actually, on the broken eluvian that was found in the Brecilian forest ten years ago. That’s one of the reasons that the professors came to Orlais, you know, so they could work with U of O on the eluvian project — oh, but you probably know that already…”

“I do,” Athera said. “But I’m just as interested as you are, so you can tell me all about it.”

Merrill did a little hop. “Wonderful! Well, it was shattered, as you know, and I was actually part of the archeological party who went out to the forest two years ago to recover more of the pieces! Creators, I tell you, it was such an amazing trip…” 

Merrill chattered on cheerfully about the eluvian, and Athera listened with one ear, but the rest of her mind was on Abelas and his bad attitude. The way he spoke to her was so unkind, like he thought she was just here to mess everything up. And the way he frowned at her with that scowl on his annoyingly handsome face, like she wasn’t qualified to make any changes to his precious lab…

He’ll see, she thought stubbornly. He’ll see how much more smoothly things will run here once I’ve gotten settled in. Athera was a competent professional woman, after all. She was absolutely qualified to do this job, and in no time, she’d learn the way the lab was run and she’d make it so efficient that Abelas would be sorry he ever doubted her. 

I’ll show him, she thought. She was going to make this lab the most efficiently run place in the department of history, and Abelas wouldn’t remember what his life was like without her. 

[myheartrevealedocs]

Untouchable- Ch 2: The Offer

Summary: A Spencer Reid x OC fanfic that retells select episodes, starting in season 1, from the point of view of Lydia Ambers, a forensic scientist.

Warnings: swearing, discussion about death and illegal activity (but like, at half the normal Criminal Minds level)

Ch 1 | Ch 3 | About Lydia

~ ~ ~

“You got it all sorted out?” Gideon asked Hotch as he walked into his office. It had been a month since their case in Santa Cruz and Gideon had been on Hotch’s ass about this since they got back.

“It’s… not a job…” Hotch started. “I talked to Strauss and she said that there was no proof that a forensic scientist would be of any benefit to the team. Police departments provide them and local forensic scientists have access to scenes sooner.”

“Police departments can also have media liaisons and tech analysts, but we bring in our own,” he argued. “I spoke to some of Lydia’s old professors and they said that she’s not only a good crime scene investigator, but her major was chemistry and she’s fit to get a job in DNA analysis or toxicology.”

“Gideon, what did I say about not getting involved? Strauss needs proof that she is an asset to the team before paying her a salary. So, I got her to agree to let Lydia work here as an intern under your supervision.”

“Done,” Gideon said. “By the end of the month, she’ll have proven worthy of a spot on this team.”

“No, there’s more,” Hotch told him, frustrated. “She only gets to work jobs that we clearly need her on and she gets no more than two cases every 50 days.”

“Fine, fine,” Gideon replied, which did nothing to ease Hotch’s worry. He, too, had been impressed by Lydia during the Jonathan Carrey case, but there were parameters on hiring people into the FBI and Gideon acted like those meant nothing.

He’d been the same way about Reid after he first spoke to him, but Reid was cut out to be a profiler from day one and they had an opening for him. Gideon wanted Hotch to simply create a brand new job title and salary for Lydia and he couldn’t do that.

“Should I call her and tell her to pack up her things and move to DC?”

Hotch blinked. “You haven’t already told her about the possibility of a job, have you?”

“No,” Gideon laughed. “I can’t promise her a job when I don't have the jurisdiction to hire anybody.”

That was a relief, but Hotch was still afraid Gideon had let on too much. He had just admitted to calling her professors to learn more about her abilities. So, he replied, “You can tell her that we have an internship position that she might be interested in and ask her about her ability to leave California. That is all.”

~ ~ ~

“Agent Hotchner. Agent Gideon,” Lydia greeted as she entered the BAU. It was crazy enough to be in Virginia, seeing as she’d never left California, but FBI headquarters?

She shuffled around nervously and adjusted her glasses numerous times despite the fact they were already as far up her nose as they could go.

“Lydia,” Gideon greeted, warmly. “How was your flight?”

“It was alright. Exciting. I’ve never been on an airplane before.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. No one should have to go through airport security for their first time alone,” Hotch said. “Why don’t we step into my office?”

He and Gideon led the way into the bullpen and around to his office. Lydia’s eyes darted around, seeing Morgan, Elle, and Reid at their desks, engrossed in their work. She wondered if any of them would even recognize her if she caught their eye. She was surprised enough when Gideon called.

“I assume you’ve been considering my offer?” Gideon asked, closing the door behind her.

“Considering, yes. But it would be… difficult, to say the least. I’d love to hear it from your mouths… the offer, that is.”

Hotch sat down at his desk and gestured for her to do the same.

“Agent Gideon and I would like to offer you an internship here at the BAU as a forensic science technician. When we took you on as a consultant in Santa Cruz, you proved to have inspiring potential. You would only be called out for occasional cases, once every month or so. Agent Gideon would be your supervisor.”

“And this would mean moving to DC?”

“Eventually, yes. We can’t exactly fly you out to every new scene from California. It would be easier to have you here, getting briefed with us, taking the jet, etcetera. You’ll also need to go through a training period here and likely will be asked to work in the office, even when you aren’t on a case. How big of a problem would that be? Do you have a lot of family there?”

“No, not family. I mean, it’s just me and my sister and she’s been doing just fine on her own while I’ve been at college, so we’ll manage the distance. The issue is I’m set to start a masters program next semester. I’m just… unsure how I feel about dropping out of school. I know this is a crazy opportunity, but it’s not a full-time job. And if I don’t do well and you guys decide not to keep me, I’m poor and stuck in DC.”

Gideon, who’d been hovering in the back of the room stepped forward. “If we fire you for some reason, I promise to personally pay for your flight back to California.” It was a joke, but in all seriousness, a flight wasn’t even half of it.

“You wouldn’t have to drop out,” Hotch added. “Many schools nearby would be happy to have you and the Bureau rarely has problems with schools refusing to work around our interns schedules. And even if that’s too difficult, this experience will likely open up many opportunities in the future. I’d be happy to write you a million letters of recommendation should you decide to find work elsewhere.”

“I, uh-”

“Hey Hotch?” A familiar voice called, knocking on the door.

He apologized to her momentarily, before saying, “Come in, Reid.”

The door swung open and the boy looked right over Lydia’s head to his boss. “JJ wanted me to tell you that she…”

He trailed off as he felt more pairs of eyes on him. He glanced at Gideon before finally landing on Lydia.

She decided to make the first move, seeing as he was stunned into silence. “Dr. Reid, how nice to see you again.” She stood up to greet him, a smile gracing her features.

“Lydia, I uh… Sorry, to interrupt I really had no- Oh! And it’s nice to see you, too,” he fumbled. “I’ll… I can talk to Hotch later. Sorry, again for interrupting.” And with that he shut the door and was gone.

“Sorry about that. I figured it might have been important, that’s why I invited him in. What were you going to say?”

Lydia froze, her mind drifting elsewhere. “Does the team know? That you are offering an internship into the team?”

Hotch shook his head. “We aren’t offering an internship into the team. We’re offering you an internship into the team. We were waiting to see if you agreed to it.”

“Well, I don’t want to force them to work with someone super under experienced. They aren’t paid to be teachers.”

“The only one who’s going to be teaching you anything is me,” Gideon reassured her. “You are more than capable of holding your own with them. I trust you.”

Lydia felt her throat close up. It was all set up. A job she couldn’t even dream of and here they were, offering it up on a silver platter. “So, this is all… serious. I move to DC and just… work for the FBI all of a sudden?”

“If that’s what you want, then yes. That’s our offer.”

Lydia looked Hotch over, as if trying to profile whether or not he was lying. And finally, she said, “I would like that. Thank you.”

~ ~ ~

“You’ll need to fill out some legal release forms, medical history forms, and I’ll get to work on setting you up for your training period and psychological assessment,” a charming girl named Penelope Garcia explained. Gideon had introduced her as the BAU’s technical analyst.

Her office was brightly decorated and she handed Lydia all the information she needed with a huge smile.

“I’m going to be asked to do a thorough background check on you, as well. But that information goes straight to Hotch and Gideon, no one else.”

Lydia chuckled slightly. “I don’t think I have any secrets, but thanks for the warning.”

“Of course!” she replied.

“No secrets?” Gideon asked. “If I remember correctly, you refused to explain anything about yourself that didn’t pertain to the case when I first met you.”

Lydia hesitated slightly. “Well, what do you want to know?”

“What were you trying to hide?” he countered. “If you’re such an open book, you can tell me.”

“I was just angry!” she argued. “It isn’t about hiding, it’s just that after my mom died, I really believed that I was explosive and so I avoid any topics that bring out my stronger emotions. And you were trying to push all my buttons. I was stressed!”

She wasn't sure if Gideon was just an attentive listener or if he was simply interested in her background, but his eyes longed for her to go on. “Explosive?”

“That’s how I got this limp.”

Normally, nothing anyone could say would prompt her to give away more information than necessary. She always tried to excuse it as ‘no one asked’ rather than blatantly avoiding certain topics, but it was pretty obvious to just about anyone she’d met that Lydia was not proud of her past. So whatever it was about Gideon that convinced her to add that comment was something pretty special.

“How?” It was Garcia this time.

The young girl laughed. “When I was 16, I was having some issues and one day I was trying to calm myself down… I often did this by physically getting my energy out so I was punching pillows and throwing things and I kicked something that was heavier than I expected and broke my foot.” She nodded, like she was remembering it fondly, but the other two could tell that it was a cover for her uncomfort. “And then, I was mad because I hadn’t solved my problem and I’d rendered myself useless, so I started walking on it before it was healed. I did dumb shit. I felt like I deserved the pain for being so uncontained and brash. And then the arch of my foot healed wrong and I had to live with a more… permanent reminder of my attitude.”

“Sixteen,” Gideon mumbled. “Is that when your father died?”

Garcia looked shocked that her superior would even say such a thing but Lydia was just intrigued, “What makes you say that?”

He shrugged. “You said that your only family is your sister. So, I figure both your parents are far out of the picture. You said your mom died when you were little, which triggered your outbursts. So, I figured that perhaps you lost your dad as well and if you were having major anger issues at 16, could be due to the loss of your second parent. Brings up old scars.”

She paused, a somewhat sad smirk gracing her face. “My dad’s not dead, but you’re pretty close. When I was 16, my father was sent to prison.”

Garcia and Gideon’s faces read with immediate regret. So, Lydia played it off quickly.

“Don’t stress about it. He’s not a murderer or anything and it’s not… important.”

She hesitated to explain what he did. She figured they were bound to find out soon enough and she really would rather not say it outloud, so she changed the subject.

“Hey Garcia? Do you think you could help me work on transferring schools? Agent Gideon suggested that I apply for online courses rather than continuing to learn on campus and I’m still not sure if I can reapply for everything so late. And I know your job isn’t navigating college websites or anything, but you are good at tech and I’d love some help.”

She brightened almost immediately. “Sure, sweetheart!”

[lia-jones]

Growing Pains - Chapter Four - My Office. NOW.

I arrived at LFG the next day at 8 am, way before everybody else did. I went to the CEO’s office and left an envelope on top of his desk, with my resignation letter inside.

I brewed some coffee, and grabbing a cup for myself, I sat on my laptop and worked on the pending things I had to do for the week. Whoever would take my work, would have no problem picking up the pace if I left things organized.

I was so absorbed in my task I didn’t even notice all the other people coming in. I also didn’t notice Victor’s arrival, so it came as a surprise to see Victor’s message on the company communication channel.

My office. NOW.

I knocked on the glass door and heard a dry “come in”. Victor was sitting at his desk, my resignation letter in his hand.

“You called?” I said, my voice emotionless.

“Explain this.” His tone was severe, angry even, as he threw the letter on the desk with contempt.

“Not much to explain, it’s my resignation letter.” I said, my cold eyes meeting his fiery ones.

“Is it now?” His tone was of scorn. “Here’s what I think about your resignation letter.” He took the letter from the table and slowly ripped it to pieces. I was astonished, not believing my own eyes. That man had some nerve. Suddenly he got up, and although he wasn’t loud or aggressive, I was startled all the same. I could hear my heartbeat in my eardrums.

“Tomorrow morning a car will be picking you up at 6:30 in the morning. You will be ready for it at 6: 29, so you won’t cause any delays. You’ll pack a bag for a two-day trip, including dresses for business dinners. You said you wanted to learn, here is your chance, I will teach you. Tomorrow, you’ll sit with me at the grown-ups table.” His grey eyes were menacing and icy, defying me to retort or refuse. Seeing him like this, I simply couldn’t. I just stood there and took all of his fury, unable to move a muscle. He paused for a moment, watching my reaction, and continued.

“Goldman will send you my schedule for the next two days, which you will memorize like it was your own name. You’ll also come prepared with all the information required about the companies I am going to visit, including reports on your analysis of the present reality for those companies, and what actions should be taken to protect the investments. And you will not fail or disappoint me, or I will personally make sure you will never work in finances again, here or in any other place. Understood?”

He spat the threat like it was coming from the deepest darkest pit inside him, and it fell on me like a double punch on my gut. I remained silent, knowing that I couldn’t possibly say no to him. I wasn’t pleased with the whole situation, but I wasn’t stupid enough to face the angry bear now. I had poked him, after all.

“Yes. Anything else, sir?” I said, my expression emotionless, the word sir coming out sourer than I intended.

His eye twitched, and for a nanosecond, it seemed this was as hard for him as it was for me, a glint of discomfort in his eyes. Clearly wishful thinking. He sat down and picked a file, and spoke to me while reading it. It was clearly his way to show despise.

“Yes. Later today you will have a desk placed in my office. You will be working with me closely, taking all the tasks I give you. You will be here when I arrive, and you will only leave when I tell you to leave. I will be demanding and most likely ill-tempered, but you’ll take it like an adult, since I will be teaching you everything I know. In return, I expect from you nothing less than excellence.”

I couldn’t believe this was happening, but I wouldn’t relent. I asked to be taught, didn’t I? If I played my cards right, I could profit greatly from all the knowledge he had to offer. I didn’t know if the CEO was pushing me to be better or if it was just punishment for being sassy, but I wouldn’t lose the opportunity to get my hands dirty and learn something worth the trouble.

Seeing Victor was already busy with his own work, not even caring to finish the conversation, I excused myself and went to my desk. Ted was waiting by my chair, his expression worried.

“What the hell happened? You’re pale as a ghost.” He asked, worried.

“Victor will be supervising me now. I will move to his office soon.” I said, my body feeling tired as all the tension slowly left it.

“Did he say why?”

“Not really.” I lied. “I think he wasn’t pleased with my reports.”

“Are you keeping any of my accounts? You were working on them, will Victor be supervising them too?” Ted seemed worried, maybe because he felt his efficiency was on trial as well.

“I don’t know, Ted. He’s your buddy, go ask him yourself.”

Ted didn’t lose any time. He went straight to Victor’s office. I just sat at my desk and went back to work, not minding what was happening there.

I opened my email to find I already had an email from Goldman with the schedule for the two-day trip. I printed it and put it beside me, starting to research about the companies we would be visiting.

I was so busy with my own work I didn’t notice the time pass me by, the busy energy of the company acting only as a background noise. I was startled by someone tapping me on the shoulder. It was Diane.

“Oh sweetie, I noticed you just came back from Victor’s office. You don’t look so good. We’re going to grab something to eat. Would you like to join us?” She said, smiling. Diane was a tall blonde with piercing blue eyes, and a voice so calm it could literally put you to sleep. She was one of the best workers in LFG, constantly praised by Victor but especially by Goldman, that seemed to like and respect her deeply. It was no surprise though, her heart being as big as her brains, and her attitude always positive and wise, making it extremely difficult not to like her.

I looked at the clock, it was one pm. But I still had a lot of work to cover. I was about to say no, when a man approached me.

“Hey, you’re Andrea, right? I’m Lenny. I’m here to move your things to the CEO’s office while you have lunch.” Lenny extended his hand for me to shake.

“Actually, I still have work to do…” I said, not wanting to leave my desk at all. Victor would be arriving from his lunch break soon, and I was pretty sure he would dump all kinds of tasks on me. And I still wasn’t done with what I had started in the morning.

“20 minutes, that’s all I ask. You’ll be doing me a solid, if the CEO arrives to see I still haven’t done what he asked me to, I’ll be in trouble.”

“Come with us, Andrea, we won’t take long, I have a lot to do too. You grab some lunch and relax a little, you’ll be more productive when you return.” Diane chimed in.

“20 minutes.” I turned to Lenny. “And make sure everything is working properly, I can’t lose any more time than the much I’m giving you.”

Lenny agreed and I went with Diane and some other people to this salad bar we often went to. We sat with our lunch, the others engaged in conversation, me and Diane eating silently. That is, until Diane broke the silence.

“So… Do you want to talk about what happened? Goldman was in his office when he opened your letter. He said he has never seen him so angry.”

“Well, the report presentation went incredibly sour yesterday. I thought he was going to fire me, so I quit. To save myself the humiliation. He didn’t take it too well.” I blurted out. I didn’t want to, but I needed to tell somebody.

“Went sour how?”

“Well, he called me an idiot… And I called him a bully. And he is a bully, Diane. I never had any complaints until yesterday, but I see how he treats people. Like he is the only smart person in the room. You’re close to Goldman, you know how nervous he gets. Life can’t be easy for him.” I tried to defend myself, although I knew I wasn’t very nice to Victor either.

“Ok… But he didn’t fire you. You’re moving your stuff to his office.” Diane stated, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

“He’s my supervisor now and he wants me to work closely with him. Probably to make me trip and add to my humiliation.” I sighed.

“I’ve known Victor for a while now. Goldman and I have been in the company for at least 7 years working close to him. And he’s not what he seems, Andy. He gives off the cold vibe but he’s actually a very kind and honorable person. It’s hard for him to let people in, I think. Do you know how Goldman started working at LFG?”

I shook my head, giving her my undivided attention.

“He was in a very bad place when he applied. He was practically homeless, he had lost his parents recently, nobody would hire him. He applied to work as a receptionist. Victor interviewed him, for some reason.” Diane paused to sip her drink. “When Victor asked him why someone with an Economics degree was applying as a receptionist, he told him his troubles. Victor not only hired him, but he did it as his assistant. And for a while, LFG paid the rental of a small apartment so Goldman could save some money and get himself back on his feet. And Victor taught him everything he needed to know about the job, making him his right arm. Victor didn’t need to do that.”

I pondered for a moment, thinking about how he helped me with my car trouble. Although it was a very uncomfortable experience, he was nothing but a gentleman. But that man was a very different man from the man threatening me in his office.

“He seems to be two very different people.” I said, concluding the conversation, not wanting to talk about it anymore.

“Well, since you are working with him, here’s a piece of advice. Don’t let his standoffish act fool you. Give him the benefit of the doubt.”

I nodded. Maybe he wasn’t all that bad. I sure hoped so, since I would be in close vicinity for the next few months.

I ran to the office to finish my work. My desk was already set on Victor’s office. Fortunately, he was still on his lunch break, so I sat and put on my earphones, resuming my work, my focus solely on my screen, the music blocking exterior stimuli. I worked fast and furiously for a while, my mind speeding through the process, when my concentration was broken by the sight of a tie next to my screen. I could only imagine the scolding I would get if the CEO had been there for long talking to me and I didn't listen.

“Sorry for the earphones. I needed to focus. Do you need anything?” I asked him.

“Do you have your reports ready? Did you gather all the information regarding the companies?”

“Almost ready. It’ll be finished in half an hour.” I answered.

“Let’s hope the quality of your work surpasses your efficiency, which is seriously lacking. A toddler could do it in half the time.” He said, sitting down at his desk.

I sighed. Who told me to be that straightforward to the guy and call him a bully?

“Did you have lunch?” I heard his voice again.

“Yes, I took a quick break and ate.”

“Rule number one in this office: No matter how busy you are, you take a break to eat and drink.”

“Understood.”

“The last thing I need is the intern to pass out from hunger and make a fool of herself in my office.”

This was going to be hell. I could feel it. Way to go, Andrea, you missed a perfectly good opportunity to be quiet.

[readjournalstudy]

I’m like. So mad rn.

So I’ve been TAing the same class for five semesters now, since I came into the dept. I teach a 50 min breakout section where we focus on their papers that they write for the semester. For the past five semesters, the supervising professor has made us meet for weekly hour and a half long (almost always longer) meetings where we go over what to do for the week and how to grade the papers. In our fifth semester teaching, especially rn with so much stuff going on with the pandemic, these added meetings are more of a hinderance than a help at this point (two of us are finishing our masters projects, two of us are just starting the PhD program, and I’m the sole instructor for another class that I’ve never taught before).

I emailed the supervisor saying that Mondays at 9am is the worst possible time for an hour and a half long meeting because Mondays are the ONLY day that I lecture in my other class, where I’m the sole instructor that my students have and I need the time to prepare and just kind of relax before I have to lecture to 30 kids. We had originally agreed on Wednesdays at 9am but one of the TAs said she’d rather do Monday and I said at the time that I have to teach at noon and would like the time beforehand to look over my powerpoint and lecture notes. In my email, I said that I had mentioned this.

I got an email back yesterday saying that we can’t meet at 9am on Wednesdays because one of my colleagues works (the only girl it could be told me that she would rather meet on Wednesdays instead of Mondays) and that she’s not changing the time and I need to come to the meetings no matter what.

So she basically just told me that everyone else’s commitments are more important than mine and that my film students, who I see three times a week and am the sole instructor for, are less important than my section students who I only meet for a discussion group. She’s also made it clear that we’re not allowed to have any expectations whatsoever for these students and we need to be flexible, but I MUST sacrifice an hour and a half of my prep time to talk abt the same lessons I’ve been teaching for five semesters.

She’s also the one who almost cost me my assistantship because she couldn’t be bothered to do her job or communicate with me. If she thinks this is going to make me respect her, she is very much mistaken.

[ask-de-writer]

An excerpt from GONE TO SEA, a novel in progress

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to the World of Sea

CHILDREN’S PLAY

An excerpt from GONE TO SEA, a novel in progress

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

3688 words in this excerpt

© 2020 by Glen Ten-Eyck

All  rights reserved. This document may not be copied or distributed on or  to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express  written consent of the author.

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Users    of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may    reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters  in   my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical    compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to  charge   for their images.

All sorts of Fan Activity, fiction, art, cosplay, music or anything else is ACTIVELY encouraged!

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What Mecat told Kurin was basically true.  The fundamental discoveries of glue in Strong Skin was made by children wanting to make toys.  They even made some boats and some ships.  Over time, their arts got lost and Mecat had to show the scattered men on Sea how to do again what the children had learned.

The original colonists to Sea were all picked for being, among other criteria, quite bright.  Somehow, nobody paid attention to the fact that many bright people have bright children too.

When Adults get too busy, they often put the concerns of children last.  In an environment like Sea, that may be a mistake of sorts . . .

Chapter 04. Children at Play

As is the case everywhere that there are children, they play.  In some of their playing, they imitate their elders.  They also do another thing that children have done since the dawn of time.  Because the only toys that the adults thought to bring or make were educational, they raided the trash for fun things to play with.

Cora Halyn dug the pan out of the waste stream dumpster.  Grinning, she held it up for the others to see.  “What good is that?” asked Mikal Novotnoy.

Cora grinned some more and threw out several used twenty centimeter air filter disks made from the dried skin of the Strong's shark.  She said happily, “I was there when the cooks made this mess out of some Moreson's eels.  They tried to soak it out, scrape it and even chip it loose.  Since it melted once, I don't know why they didn't try to melt it again.  If it will melt, we can squish it into these disks and make Frisbees!”

Jason Torres asked her, “Did they chuck out any of the Shark's teeth or bones?”

Cora promptly dove back into the dumpster.  The sound of things shifting and thumping about followed.  Several large pieces of bone and some ten to fourteen centimeter long razor sharp and naturally serrated teeth cascaded out of the trash bin.  Cora vaulted out after them.

“Why did you want the teeth and bones, Jase?” she asked curiously.

Jason cut a finger as he gathered up the teeth and bones that Cora dug out for him.  He paused long enough to suck the cut a moment before commenting, “Those teeth are sharp!  I thought that it might be fun to try doing some scrimshaw with them.  Maybe even make my dad a present that he can use, like a paperweight or something.”

The children gathered up their booty of trash and went to the recycle center.  Mister Makle looked over what the children wanted and asked, “What do you want with the pan?  The rest is no problem but that pan is aluminum.  We can remelt it and make new things from it.”

Cora grinned and pointed out, “True, but we already get all of the new aluminum that we want by processing seawater.  What we really want is the goo in the pan.  I think that we can melt it and work it into the used filter disks.  If I am right we can make Frisbees out of them! Those eels are pretty common so we can make lots of toys like that if it works.”

Shrugging and smiling, Mister Makle signed a release for the children's salvage and said, “Be sure to let me know if that trick works!  I'd like a Frisbee too!”

The next day, Cora and the rest of her crowd brought Mister Makle a home-made Frisbee.

Cora proudly explained, “The goo by itself was way too brittle when it hardened in the disks.  We fixed that by mixing in some oil that we got by rendering the waxy stuff.  Now it is strong and somewhat flexible.  Here, try it!”  She expertly flipped the disk to him.

Mister Makle caught the disk with a delighted smile and did try it.  He flexed it some and then tossed the disk so that it bounced off a wall and examined it again.  He smiled even more as he said, “Keep me and the rest of the waste management and maintenance team in Frisbees and you can have anything that you want from the trash if it isn't dangerous.  OK?”

Jason grinned back and said, “Sounds easy enough.  There's lots of those used filter disks.  We have another idea that you might like.”

Interested, Mister Makle asked, “What is that?”

Seeing that there was an adult who wasn't too busy to pay attention, the assorted children of Cora's crowd gathered around and said, “Fishing! When we saw how tough that Strong's skin and eel goo is, we made a pole out of some of it.”

Mikal added, “We figured out that if you cut a big mussel loose and just set it in some seawater, it will put out the attachment foot to start making new holdfast strands.  We put a little chunk of bone near where the foot comes out.  As soon as it stuck the holdfast thread to the bone, we started to pull real gently.  We got over five meters of line from it.”

Mister Makle said, “I'd like to see that.  What are you going to use for a hook?”

Cora said, “We are going to try several things to see what works best. The dense bone from the Strong's shark will be the base for most of them.  A few will be carved out of shell from the mussels.  Got a piece of paper?  Mala'klea will sketch them up for you.  Her folks were in the Polynesian Back to the Ocean movement.  She's learned all sorts of neat stuff from them.”

Black haired little Mala'klea silently took a pen and began sketching quickly.  It only took a few moments for her to hand Mister Makle the paper with a half dozen different hook designs on it, complete with notes about materials and the glue applications where necessary.

While she was sketching Mister Makle asked Cora, “Doesn't she talk?”

Cora gave a half grin and replied, “Yes she does, when she has something to say.  It is worth listening when she does speak because it is always good.”

Mala'klea did suddenly look up at Cora with a smile and said, “We can overlap disks to make laminated planks.  We could make a sailing canoe from them.”  She fell silent again and took another sheet of paper.  

Her nearly flying pen sketched rapidly.  A simple dory built design for a long, deep keeled and moderately wide canoe-like boat took shape.  It had a large outrigger or secondary hull and a deck on struts between the main hull and the smaller one.

Mister Makle looked at the paper and commented, “Sweet design.  This is all done with equal angles for the ribs.  That will make the fabrication easy.  You kids will need a formal adult supervisor for a project this big.  How long do you actually plan to make it?”

Cora grinned in relief that their idea wasn't just being blown off by a man whose department was critical to building it.  She replied, “We thought that about twenty meters should make it safe from Strong's sharks and most of the other big fish that we know of.”

Mister Makle studied the drawing and sections seriously for a moment and said, “That will be way too large to manage easily with paddles. Will it have a sail?”

Cora agreed, “It will have two masts and three sails.  Mala'klea has that all figured out.  Her mom was the captain of the Mona Loa.  It was a sailing ship of the Polynesian Back to the Ocean Movement.”

Mister Makle grinned widely and said, “You do know that this boat is as big as the two ships that the station engineers are planning to build, don't you?”

“Sure we do,” Cora replied confidently.  “Size is a relative thing. Theirs will be wider and deeper in the hull and have two masts. Those round ships will be able to carry a lot more than our voyaging canoes and will have a longer range.  We figure that these will be way faster, though.”

Mister Makle asked, “Would you be willing to practice on a smaller boat or two using the same principles, just to test your ideas before you commit to building the big one?

“I know that the maintenance crew would be willing to do the supervision in their off time.  They want a chance to play about with boat building but the shipyard is being a real prat about it ever since Mister Angerson got put in charge.  This will be a big job because of all of the Moreson's eels that you will have to catch.  I can set the recycle folks to salvaging all of the filters that come through.”

Cora got a faraway look and then suggested, “That would be great.  We could use a test boat to catch the eels that we will need.  If everything works as well as it should, we could even help the maintenance team to make some boats for their own use.  

“I think that Pele Barant would be our best senior supervisor.  Not only is she Mala'klea's mom, she knows all about primitive tools and things because she was in the Polynesian Back to the Ocean movement. She's also a top flight mechanical engineer.”

Mister Makle promptly placed a call through his computer.  “Mrs. Barant, this is Mister Makle down in the Waste Management office.  Your daughter and some other children are down here.

“What? No.  There is nothing wrong.  In fact, I think that they want to do something very right.  It will need a senior supervisor who understands so-called primitive tools and materials.

“They told me that you were in the Polynesian Back to the Ocean movement on Earth and that you might make a good person to supervise their work. Oh, did I forget to say what it was?  They want to make a surprisingly large sailing canoe based on a Polynesian voyaging canoe.

“Yes, I thought that you might like to see how they plan to do it and the materials that they have found.  Recycle has turned up a few other native things that might be useful in the project as well.

“So, we will see you in a few minutes?  Excellent!  We will be waiting.”

He turned back to the children and told Mala'klea, “That really got your mother's attention.  Do you kids know that this is the first proposed project to use only things and materials from Sea?”

Cora grinned and held up one of the flying disks.  “Not quite.  We made these first.  To do them right we had to make a knife that would cut that Strong's shark skin.  It is really tough stuff.

“Jason, do you have those knives that you and Mala'klea made?  If you have them handy, we could show them to Mrs. Barant.  Mister Makle might like to see them, too.”

Mister Makle leaned back in his office chair and said, “I would like to see them.  My department got stuck with making those filter disks and you would not believe how fast that skin will dull a knife.  Thing is, Pele is on her way down.  Save the knives and show them to both of us at once.  She is the expert on things like this.”

Several of the maintenance crew came into the office.  One of the women exclaimed, “Boss!  How did you get Frisbees?  I applied to engineering to make us some for recreation and they turned their noses up at the job.  Said that they had more important tasks than toys!”

Mister Makle grinned and tousled Cora's hair as he replied, “They turned me down too, Molly.  The kids here made these out of old air filter disks and some sort of glue that they made out of Moreson's eels.  They work really great. Here, Molly, catch!”  He flipped a disk at the woman who had spoken.

Startled, Molly reflexively caught the disk.  She paused long enough to examine the disk carefully.  She said quietly, “This looks like it was press molded.  How did you guys make it?”

Cora smiled in delight at the recognition of their work and replied, “We made one that worked really well.  We used it to make a form that we do press them into.  All that we need to do is wax the form and our hands.  Then we work the glue into the disk and push it tightly into the form by hand.  It needs about twenty minutes to set up and then we can pop it out and make another.  That's about all that there is to it.”

Molly happily flipped the disk to another of her crew, even though the range was short.  It never got to him.  A small Black haired woman dived in from the door and caught the disk before he had a chance at it.  She bounced energetically off one of the office walls and stood, examining the disk intently.  She flexed it and said, “Here, Klea! Catch!”

The disk sailed across to little Mala'klea who did catch it expertly. Beaming, she said, “Thanks, Mom!  This one is for Molly and her team.  We have more and can make them for anyone else that wants one!”

Mister Makle observed, “That is more than I have heard you say even when you were drawing up the boat plan.”

Mala'klea, cringing like she expected to be hit, looked about fearfully, and went silent.  Pele crouched beside her daughter and pulled her into a hug.  Mala'klea hugged back fiercely, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

Pele spared a look for the shocked Recycle and Maintenance people in the big office.  Still holding her daughter, she told them, “Klea was one of the children that Mister Angerson was caught beating for refusing to pray to his God during their schooling time.  Instead of teaching them math, he was trying to force the children to follow him in his suicidal mania that he calls a religion.

“He was particularly brutal to those kids that he called pagans.  Since my little Klea follows our family's polytheistic beliefs, he beat her the worst of all.  The station's doctors found two cracked ribs and a hairline fracture of the right radius.

“Mala'klea refused to give in to his assault but he did manage break her trust in most people.

“Mister Angerson has been formally required to surrender his teaching duties and stay away from the children.  He has been forbidden to ever touch or speak to any of them.  His own wife and two children moved into our apartment to get away from him.  Trisha has filed with the station's Executive Committee for a divorce.”

One of the men from Molly's Maintenance crew said, “I know about the schooling problem.  I was on the jury.  What Angerson did sickened us all.  He claimed that God Himself ordered him to discipline the children for their unbelief and that God's orders override the Colonial Charter.  We all disagreed.  The verdict was unanimous.”

Molly volunteered, “That idiot Marcus cornered me once and tried to convince me that we are doomed.  God sent us all here to die by slow starvation for our sins.  Seems that we are all to be the Sacrifice For The New Covenant to preserve all of  mankind's colonies in space.

“He seems to forget that both the thymine and lysine that are our last real stumbling blocks have been spotted from orbit, even if they haven't been isolated to any particular organism yet.  In the meantime, the plants and animals that we brought along are filling the gap.  We will find what we need someday, probably soon.”

Pele nodded to Molly then gave her daughter another hug and asked her, “Do you have any sort of plan or working drawings for the boat that Mister Makle mentioned?  What are you thinking of making it out of?”

Everyone watched silently as Mala'klea went fearfully to Mister Makle's desk and, darting glances all about, brought her mother the pages of sketches.  She took one of the flying disks from Cora and wordlessly handed it to her mother as well.  

Pele's eyes lit up and she sat cross-legged in front of Mala'klea and patted her lap.  Looking meaningfully about at the other adults for silence, Pele said, “This is a wonderful start, Klea.  Please tell me about it.”

Mala'klea began almost inaudibly, “We can use old filter disks and rectangles to make the planks.  See, Mother?  The big side planks are the same width all along their length.  By keeping the angles of the side to bottom planks the same, it is just a long four plank dory, the same way that the old Polynesian voyaging ships were built.”

Mother gave daughter a quick hug and prodded, “How will you make the planks out of the smaller pieces, Dear?”

Mala'klea answered more confidently, “To make the flying disks we had to make a glue out of Moreson's eels.  Because of the messy way that they come apart when we heat them, we call them Goo fish.  We had to try several ways to get the glue right.  We had some of the disks stick together by accident.  That gave me the idea for laminating the parts.”

Pele nodded in happy seeming approval.  “Very observant, Klea.  How will you hold the planks and ribs together?”

The other children of Cora's Crowd almost bit their lips to keep quiet.  Cora stopped one of Molly's crew from speaking by whispering, “We have seen this before.  This is how Pele helps Mala'klea to stop being scared.  Let Klea answer for now.”

The man nodded understanding and held his tongue.

Mala'klea almost eagerly told her mother, “We can get strings from the mussels that grow almost everywhere on the Station's docks.  Cora figured out the glue and filter thing but it was Jason who thought of the string.  It was Matty that thought of making a boat.  I put their ideas together.

“We can use string that we make from the mussel threads to tie the parts together.  Once we are ready, we can laminate more skin over the joints to waterproof them.  We can lock the ribs into place the same way.  It is only a little different from the way that you were putting together the latest big Polynesian ship that you and your friends were building back on Earth.”

Pele grinned at her daughter, and looking her in the eye, pointed out, “Those planks and parts will need to be trimmed to shape, and many holes drilled in them to tie them together.  How will you manage that?”

By now, Mala'klea was answering eagerly and openly again.  “Jason and I made some knives and other tools out of Strong's shark teeth!  Jason brought them down here to show to Mr. Makle.  We can cut and trim the glued skin with them.  We made an awl that can make the holes.  When you were making that big canoe, you had a bow drill thing to make the holes but I couldn't remember how to make one.”

Jason silently handed a roll-up of knives and other tools to Mala'klea who unrolled it to show her mother.  Pele took the time to examine each knife and tool carefully.  She thoughtfully tested edges and checked the orientation of the natural serrations in the fangs that the knife and tool edges and points were made of.  One tool was made from a piece of flat bone with fairly coarse teeth carved into it for spreading and forcing glue into the skin.  The tool had the sheen of a waxy coating worked into the bone.  They all had handles formed of many layers of the skin and glue.  Each handle was carefully formed to fit the hands of the children.  Pele even examined the leather of the roll-up.

Nodding with a smile as she felt the softness of the leather, Pele asked Mala'klea, “Is this made out of some of the Strong's skin with your oil from the Goo fish worked in to soften it?”

Mala'klea smiled at her mother and said, “Yes, mother.  Mikal Novotnoy thought of doing that.  We all worked on different parts of it.  It is stitched with the mussel string.  We needed something that would keep the tools sharp and save us from getting cut on them.”

Pele gave Mala'klea another hug and stood up, holding the child's hand.  She said, “This is a really well thought out project, Klea.  I especially like the way that you gave credit for ideas to the others. I think that this ship will make a great project.  

“It will need you children to do a lot of math to figure out the details. You will need good language skills to present what you figure out to the rest.  We can use this project for a big part of you kid's schooling.  It will make a perfect demonstration of the relationship between what you are taught in class and the real world.  It will also be more fun than any lessons should be.”

Mr. Makle thoughtfully consulted his computer, accessing the Public Announcements.  Looking up he said, “You kids don't need to worry about Mr. Angerson any more.  He is forbidden to even come near to any of you, including his own family or your projects.  If he tries, we can lock him up.  The Executive Order implementing the jury verdict of child abuse was posted about four days ago.”

Pele looked over at Mr. Makle and asked him, “How can we keep him away from this project?  It will need a lot of room to build it and, because of their time in the classrooms, the kids won't be able to work on it all of the day.”

Mr. Makle looked cheerfully at the children of Cora's Crowd and said, “Maintenance will contribute building space for it down on Maintenance Dock C.  Its access ways all lock.  As soon as you are ready for the actual building to begin, let me know and I will formally reserve it for you.  Due to the suspicion of sabotage to the Reverse Osmosis Desalination plant, we have been given the authority to forbid access to ANY unauthorized personnel.  We can arrest trespassers if necessary.  C Dock is already equipped with surveillance cameras and alarms.

“We installed the locks, alarms and cameras because we are storing those new fiberglass boats that you have been making for us down there.  If we do have a saboteur, those boats could become a prime target.”

The End of Chapter 4

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to the World of Sea

[adlexegam]

please tell me, am i in the wrong?

so basically i decided to join here cause i at least know my post wont get removed here. i tried posting my story on reddit’s AITA but my post kept getting removed because on their posts you cant post about abuse. so fuck it, here i am, hoping for someone other than my bf and myself to tell me im not wrong. context:i decided to invite my boyfriend over without telling my parents, i did it max 5 times. i was 16 at the time and he was 18. i got caught and my punishment was to get my phone taken away, my number cancelled, im no longer allowed to drive a car or get my license, im only allowed one friend, im not allowed my laptop anymore, im no longer allowed outside without constant supervision, cameras were installed in and out of the house, and just about every day since december of 2019 ive been getting told how disgusting i am for wanting to be with a n****r (my bf’s half puerto rican half white, i’m half hispanic and half white too), how if he was white he would have come to the front door and shook my parent’s hands and asked for permission to date their daughter, how im a dirty n****r lover who will get pregnant from him and have to slave away to take care of our half breed mistakes, how if i stay with him he’ll sell my body on the streets for money, how if i have sex with him ill get every std on the plant, all that 50′s bullshit. ive gotten pregnancy tested (im celibate), drug tested (mom claims she smelled weed in my room, so he’s a dirty n****r drug dealer apparently forcing me to do drugs, guess what i am against drugs since i know itll change my brain chemistry and i have weak lungs),and std tested (still celibate).  for the first few months after they found out i was allowed my laptop at home to do homework, and only allowed my phone during school. one day i got home and i got greeted to the fact that i no longer have a laptop and now have to use the house computer to do all my work at home. of course i got mad because for months ive been doing everything they wanted, and suddenly im being punished for being suspiciously good? my mom got on top of me and fought me to take off my backpack to take my airpods too, left my phone on the kitchen table. i grabbed my phone and locked myself in my room. she found out i took my phone, and once i unlocked the door i held my phone above my head so we can just talk. instead she got on top of me and started scratching me and all over my arms to get to my phone. i dropped it from the pain of the scratches on my arms. earlier that same day i was getting ready for school with my laptop open, camera taped over, looking for any school assignments i missed. my mom unlocked my door and saw my nude body getting ready with my laptop open, and just went back to the kitchen table and told my dad how much of a slut i am and how im posting my nude body on the internet. i quickly put on clothes and came up to her yelling how im just getting ready for school and how theres tape over the camera. i even told her to look at the laptop, the only thing open was google classroom. my dad got up and started yelling at me for being a slut and for talking back. for once i finally got tired of being yelled at, i finally stood up for myself. he punched me in the face and when my mom got in between to defend me (she caused the whole situation), his swings went back in on her stomach. i screamed dont hit my mother and tried to push her off him, he used the oppurtunity to grab my shoulder by my uniform and punch me in the shoulder. everything was a blur after that. my mother drove me to school and yelled how i shouldnt have been a whore on the internet. i fought back. before i got to school i yelled “please, just fuck off”. this is important later, because she used me saying that as the excuse for her getting on top of me and scratching me and ripping my backpack off my back. because i swore at her. it was okay. but here’s the important part. he hit me in front of the camera. i knew the police would ignore the emotional abuse ive been getting for my entire life. i got my physical evidence. finally, after 16 years, i had my evidence. i told my boyfriend what happened, and we agreed to meet after school the next day and call the police. i wanted to be emancipated, since my parents adamantly agreed that i (apparently) only wanted to be emancipated because my ‘poor street rat n****r boyfriend’ was manipulating me into it. ive been dreaming of this day since i was 8, when i realized what ive been told wasnt normal. they showed up on the corner of where i called. i told the policemen what happened to me the day before. they asked if i had any scars or bruises. i said no, he didnt punch me hard enough to get a bruise the next day, and my mother didnt scratch me hard enough to get scars. they knew what would happen if they gave me physical evidence. after i said that, the policeman interrogating me asked me something that will stay with me until the day i die. “he never really hit you, did he?” i began crying and saying yes! yes he did! i have video footage to prove it! we have cameras in the house! it happened right in front of the cameras! more questions ensued, and i was brought to the police station while my boyfriend waited at a local coffeeshop for me to finally be free from the abuse. at first i was scared, but the cops calmed me down. i told them everything. all my memories spilled from my mouth like water from the niagra falls. everything came rushing out, my fears, my forgotten memories i forced into my box of never to be remembered, the times before i feared for my life, the times i knew something wasnt right. i told them everything from the bottom of my heart. they listened and asked all the right questions.(if you want to know what happened to me and what i told them, ill post them in a future post if anyone cares)  one of the officers, the only one with melanin skin and a father to a beautiful girl, expressively felt sick from my stories, from my life. not even he could understand why, as a father, why any parent would find it right to do to me what they did. he was my favourite police officer, he was the kindest and the only one who really wanted me to feel comfortable. he talked to me on the level of a person, not a child. eventually cps came and he told me to tell her everything too. i did. she asked where i wanted to go if i got emancipated. i said to live with my boyfriend, his family is willing to take me in and once i get a job ill pay minimal rent so i can be free. she said ‘no, you cant live with a minor.’ i said he’s not a minor, he’s 18. she said ‘oh, then yeah you definetly cant live with him’ she said if i wanted to leave i would be put into a women’s shelter since i was too old to be adopted/put into foster care. she said i would be r*ped if i was put in there. she said i should just take it until im 18, then ill be fine. she said that there were no scars or bruises, so it wasnt that bad. (this part is blurry, the more i remember it the more the memories overlap, im sorry for any confusion) the police interrogated my parents. they believed every word they said. my mother used whitepages as a source to prove how my boyfriend lied about his name. my mother used our hours long calls to prove how im obviously being manipulated to lie. she said how im just a liar, as my father said, a pathological liar. they had no cause to me being a pathological liar, i was just born that way. i was lying to get into my manipulative boyfriend’s arms for my body to be used by him and his friends. i was obviously being manipulated, why would i want to leave my loving parents arms? i was obviously doing this just out of anger of getting my laptop and phone taken away, obviously. its not like they EVER did anything wrong to me, they were just teaching me to grow up a mature adult, ready for the world. they would never put their hands on me. the police never looked at the cameras. they never questioned me again. i was a liar. at home the child protective services lady said my room quote ‘ranked of weed’. i have never done weed. my boyfriend has never done weed in my room.  at the station they said they couldnt find a record of my boyfriend. i later found out that, even after he gave them his social security number, they still questioned his existence. at the station they told my parents they couldnt find his record (he has none, hes never committed a crime). at home a therapist came. to my knowledge, my boyfriend was never real (no record) and i would still have to be at home. i wanted to die. the therapist said she wanted to take me to a mental hospital. my mom was there and consented. my dad later came home, yelled at me in front of the therapist. she said im suicidal, with his consent she would call her supervisor to take me to the local mental hospital. he consented. while she called her supervisor from across the kitchen, he said: “she wants to kill herself? fuck if i care, she can drown herself in a river for all i care” i sat there shocked.  the mental hospital was a blur. once i got home i got my phone taken away too. my only communication would be from the 10+ year old computer we have in the kitchen. facing out so anyone that walks by can see what im doing. one of the cameras is watching me at all times, but is positioned so that it cant see what i am doing.  once i got home i used our kindle fire. i logged into discord on incognito mode. i asked him to send me his birth certificate. was he even real? was i even real? was our late nights of cuddling nothing? were the walks in the park nothing? were the ‘i love you’s nothing? did meeting his family from an hour long train ride mean nothing? were the chinese food dates nothing? were the confessions of our embarassing secrets nothing? were the times we had non-vaginal sex and laughed in the middle from how silly we were being mean nothing? were the times we had tiffs and talked it out mean nothing? did he save me from my ex-abusive partner just to use me? were the times we layed down next to each other with the only covering being my blanket, staring at each other in wonder of how lucky each of us were, was that nothing? when we spent hours telling each other our  entire life stories, was he lying? did the times he called my body the most beautiful thing he ever has seen, the times he’s said he didnt think he’d ever fall in love again from his ex, was that a lie? he sent his birth certificate. it was real. his birth date his name it was all real. he told me what happened to him. i told him what happened to me. he apologized for it going the way it did. i apologized for doubting him. child protective services sent a therapist me and my mother had to meet with weekly. 2 hours, 10 times. it lasted until the first weeks of quarantine. me and him are still in the same love we’ve has since before he found out how truly insane my parents are. the only reason we’ve ever gotten into fights is from how much he wants me to run away (before you say ‘ok maybe the parents were right, he sounds manipulative’, no, he only says that after every time something else happens at home and how he has to cope with the fact that im okay with being abused since its my normal. he wants me to run away from the abuse, not just so we can see each other again, so i wont be hurt anymore). he’s still the man i want to marry, the man i want to call mine and for him to call me his. we get scared the other might get tired of the waiting and just decide to leave for someone each other’s family would like. we talk through it. we know we can wait. i know i can take it until im 18. he knows he’ll be prepared to take me in once im 18. we know we can take the late nights awake, missing each other. we can take it because this isnt puppy love. this isnt purely passionate love. he wants me to be safe, and i want to finally be free. so you’re up to this point and you’re probably thinking one of three things: jesus christ can this lady capitalize anything?? or holy FUCK this is long it better be good or why did she title her post that? first of all, i do what a want nehenehenehneh second of all, whoever reads this needs the full context before i ask my question third of all, because of what happened a couple of days ago. a month ago my dad passed from covid-19. ive become the housewife while my mother has taken over the family business and my brother does the grass once a month. my mother still cooks, but i clean the dishes and fold laundry every day and vaccuum the whole house twice a week. a letter came in the other day stating how our child protective services case is now closed. they never found signs of physical abuse or neglect. my mother reminded me for the infinitieth time how stupid i am for getting manipulated. how much of a dirty n*****r lover i am. how i will never be anything without her. then she brought my father into this i started the situation, which made him depressed. he was depressed, so he couldnt fight off the virus. because he couldnt fight off the virus, he died. she blamed me for killing my father she blamed me for my father for deciding to go out every day without a mask for my father deciding to put in his eyedrops in an insanitary environment she blamed me  it was my fault i knew i was leaving when im 18 i knew i wanted to tell my mother at least a month before i left that i was leaving but now theres no going back once im 18, im gone im never turning back i will never be treated like this or talked down like this ever again but who will clean? who will vaccuum? who will make sure the house is organized? do i stay? can i even go? i just dont know anymore should i go? and well, what i started this post with, please tell me, am i in the wrong? for planning on leaving when im 18? to finish this post, i just want to say a few things. dont tell me to call the police or child protective services.i already did. they believed my abusive parents and told them how they can protect themselves against me, since i was the one who started all this. plus, look at the fucking news. no fucking wonder they believed my parents. my boyfriend looks hispanic and i look white. no fucking wonder they believed my parents. fuck cops. not all cops are bad, but no cop should fucking gun down people for their race. no person should be judged from some racist  person saying “oh im fearing for my life” and the person in question is black/a poc and is doing fucking nothing. they believed my fucking abusive parents because they threw my bf under the bus as bait and the police went for it. dont come after my family. all that will do is make everything worse for me. my mother can’t even look at a poc without claiming they’re related to my boyfriend and are going to follow her to kill her. dont do anything to me. just please answer my question. please just tell me if im in the right or if im in the wrong. i know this is abuse. i know whats happening to me is wrong. but i know i can take it. i know i can survive. i will survive and achieve my dream of becoming a doctor. i will be my own person. i am me

[levyfiles]

27 for the end of year asks?

#27. Have you done anything that scared you?

Ooof Ok. A little backstory then. Warning: this is a long little personal irl tale and hopefully interesting enough to be worth sharing so I’ll put it under a cut.

Before I got my promotion in January, I had spent all of last year already doing the work for less of the pay because my manager trained me to do all the paperwork and accounting for her on Wednesday so she could focus on other stuff. I was fully trained to run the accounting on the full slot count every day but there were no shifts available for me to be supervisor because a guy (let’s call him R) who had worked there much longer than I had taken on more shifts earlier last year. I was patient and worked full time, I even covered for anyone who was sick, did my time until said guy moved on to another department. 

Suddenly the shifts opened up and unfortunately at the same time, another guy (we’ll call him B) who had the Saturday supervising shift took some time off because of an injury and of course, like I said in an earlier ask, a really shitty worker quit. I was, from the end of February and all of March and April, running the department from Thursday to Sunday with 3 brand new workers who I had to train at the same time as do the job I had to. It was hard, the hours were longer, and there were times I really felt so drained I thought I’d never get my regular life back. 

B quit permanently because he couldn’t do the more physical aspects of our work which involve hauling 1 tonne iron carts full of over 500 slot machine casettes full of money across the casino and then opening said casettes one by one to count and sort the cash. The job involves a lot of repetitive hand-intensive tasks and for all the math and stacks of cash and electrical sorters, the hardest part of the job is getting the money off the floor at hours between 2am - 4am or at earliest 6am. It takes a toll on people and the body. I’m lucky enough that I’ve always been nocturnal so the hours are me at my sharpest and strongest.

At some juncture in May, R who had gone to tables to be a dealer wanted to come back. The hours were shit and guests who play poker are too often assholes to the card dealers. I learned the news second hand from a guest service manager that my manager had already agreed to reschedule him to come back.immediately. I confronted R who had neither told me he was leaving to begin with and didn’t tell me he had plans to come back. He told me everything I heard was true and worse. I was terrified because a) what I had had to go through to train the new crew b) the large amount of time I’d spent waiting for this promotion. 

It hurt all the more because R happens to be one of my really good friends. I called my manager that morning to ask her about it. I’ll always think about that phone call and what it taught me about how people are in positions of authority even when they tell you ‘you can talk to me about anything’. Her first reaction was to act like she didn’t know what I was talking about and she flip-switched the moment I told her who told me about it. That I had asked R personally and he told me his return date, that he’d been guaranteed by higher management that he could come back and that everything would be the same; that his stint on the dealing tables was just a trial to see if he would like it given that the dealing department was short (for obvious reasons). She sighed and switched up her tack, suddenly it was “no one was supposed to know” and other crap. Finally I was able to work up the nerve to ask her, “After all we’ve been through, me and the new crew; am I going to lose my position so R can come back and have his old one?” She seemed surprised by the question and the entire conversation in general, but she guaranteed that there was a miscommunication; that R’s return would only impact the new girls. My position was safe. 

This bothered me. It bothered me because my manager, before news of R’s coming back had dropped, had started training one of these new girls (let’s call her S) to cover my position if I was ever sick or injured (very normal thing to do) so now there would be 3 people on the crew who could do the job I was doing. Before R wanted back in, I was relieved that maybe S would get a supervising shift so I wouldn’t be so overwhelmed. 

Now this is where it gets complicated. The schedule was all over the place. S was now fully trained to cover for anyone who didn’t show, got sick, or injured is great at her job; we all love her. She fits right in. and is always willing to cover shifts and has since become my movie-night buddy. A week after she was trained, my manager sends me an email saying that we’ve got the new crew cemented, she’s got the new schedule all worked out. She keeps me on Thursdays and Fridays, gives R Saturdays, and then S takes Sunday because, according to my manager “Everyone who’s trained to supervise and do the accounting needs to have a regular shift. It’s only fair.” 

So just a reminder, the whole of last year I was put on call, working under two adolescent dudes who I had to push myself to my physical limit to be as good as all while waiting and wondering if a shift would ever open up; if I’d ever be able to actually get paid for the job I was already doing for my manager on Wednesdays. That whole time it had never seemed to occur to her to give me one of R or B’s shifts, but now suddenly she has someone new on that’s not me, it’s all about being fair and delegating out shifts fairly. I was really hurt. It was that all my hard work this past two years would mean nothing and to speak up would mean I’d be ruining S’s chance, have her waiting as long as I did or maybe longer to earn a shift. Usual me would do nothing, just take what I had got and never really speak about how mad and hurt I was about being passed over for a year and only given a promotion when my manager had lost two of her staff. I was mad that a guy could leap between departments and still be guaranteed everything and It made me concerned that if I hadn’t called her that morning, would she have bothered to preserve my position. Would it have been a no communication, silent demotion where I check the schedule and everything’s back to what it was last year. It’s hard watching that happen, hard not to think when you’re the one mixed-race black girl in a small predominately white run casino that being treated like crap feels equated to something a little more deep-seated than just coincidence or circumstance. 

First I talked to S. I just asked her how she felt about the job, about the trial by fire she went through in her first months working with us and she had been hinting a lot lately about how she felt a little bit of resentment for R because with his return, she was worried her and I wouldn’t be as close. That was a whole other thing we would later need to work out. The conclusion we got to was she didn’t want a supervising shift because she was working part time in maintenance outdoors and she liked it that way. I on the other hand, only have the department we were in.

I made the decision not to be usual me. It was mid-June and I invited my manager out for breakfast after work one day and I sat with her over eggs at Denny’s and I told her how the past year had felt, how it had looked when she made the decision to cut my shifts in the fashion of fairness when I had waiting a year and some months since being trained to get a chance at a regular supervising shift, that when i finally did get the promotion, it was like being abandoned because it was only after R and B were gone. I was terrified the whole time I gave my little speech because I didn’t want to appear angry or overly emotional in any capacity because if she was doing this on purpose, my reaction could easily be taken as aggressive and then I would definitely lose it all. 

I was surprised. She apologised to me, said that the thought had never occurred to her that I had been waiting, that she wished I had said something before. Feels strange now. She could easily have been lying to me, but ultimately it doesn’t matter. Now R, S, and I work together and we have a lot of fun at work and we help one another. I still keep all my supervising shifts and R (who turns out is a part time streamer on Twitch) wanted more time off anyway so there’s been no bad blood at all. Weirdly enough, in August, we all went to R’s wedding and celebrated with him until they packed up the venue, and just yesterday, we had a dinner together with R and his wife, S, me and another one of our coworkers. We feel like family most days and that is worth the terror and the fear I had going into the job to start with and speaking up for myself. Sometimes shit like that works out and I don’t think I’m going to be too meek or afraid to take a leap like that where my job’s concerned anymore.

(bravo if you made it to the end of this weird little story

[beyond-the-mirror]

Music of the Night

The long wait is finally over!

Just another V x fem!reader I decided to start. This story takes place in an AU where almost everything is the same except for a few details, which include the fact that V is basically the Phantom of the Opera of this universe.

Tagging @thedyingmoon and @minteyeddemon, I remember how excited you both were when I shared this concept, it’s a bit long but I hope you all enjoy it!

Without further ado, let’s start!

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Chapter 1: Hauntings

The imposing building stood before you, intimidating you and stealing your breath for a few moments.

“Calm down (Y/N). You got this, you got this.” You cheered to yourself to shake your nerves away, closing your eyes taking and deep breath before exhaling. Opening your eyes once more, you crossed the grand entrance with renewed determination.

This was it. This was the day you were finally able to achieve your live long dream: Performing at Fortuna’s Opera House.

Once inside the building, a receptionist signaled you to the backstage entrance, kindly thanking him you rushed to your meeting with Monsieur Lefevre, the current owner of the theatre.

Performers as well as backup dancers and stage crew members rushed everywhere you looked, apparently a dress rehearsal for an adaptation of Puccini’s grand opera Madama Butterfly was about to take place in that very moment, meaning that everyone was pressured to get every single detail perfectly before the première in a few days.

Disoriented and a little overwhelmed by the crowd, you became lost in your way to find Lefevre’s office.

“Excuse me miss.” You heard a soft feminine right next to you. Figuring it was directed at you, you turned towards the voice. A young woman stood in front of you, she was wearing a gorgeously tailored dress with tiny flower petals resembling small butterflies sewn to the fabric, the jewels she was wearing also shared a butterfly motif and her long auburn hair was styled in a simple yet elegant up-do.

“I couldn’t help but notice you looked a bit lost, are you looking for someone in particular?” Her voice had genuine concern towards you.

“Uhm yes actually! I have an appointment with Monsieur Lefevre.”

“Oh you must be the new dancer! His office is right this way, please follow me.”

You let out a sigh of relief once you arrived at the owner’s office. Thank heavens for this woman’s help, otherwise you feared that you would have arrived late to such an important meeting for your career.

“Thank you so much, you totally saved me there! My name is (Y/N) by the way.”

“It’s a pleasure, mine is Kyrie. If there is something you need help with or any questions that you may have, you are welcome to ask me anytime.”

A member of the stage crew then called for Kyrie, her queue to appear on stage getting closer. She waved at you and wished you good luck before departing towards the stage. Alone once again, you knocked on the office’s door and awaited for an answer before entering.

“Ah Miss (Y/N)! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person.” Mr Lefevre received you warmly, you shook his hand before also greeting the woman standing next him. “I’m sure you still remember Madame Trish here, right now she was telling me about your stunning performance in the auditions. I’m sure you are going to be an excellent addition to our company.”

“Oh no, the honor is actually mine Monsieur. Performing here has been my childhood dream, I can’t thank you enough for the opportunity.”

“Your skills and talent make you worthy of a spot here, you don’t have to thank us.” Trish placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “But enough of that now, let us show you around the place so you get to know it better.”

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The more you walked, the more you knew about the hectic schedule of everyone in the theatre, still that didn’t erase the starstruck look in your eyes. Trish explained with detail your daily schedule and activities, most importantly your dance lessons which will be imparted by herself nonetheless and that she will have zero tolerance for late arrivals, with exception of critical emergencies of course. Monsieur Lefevre kindly pointed out that although strict and a little frivolous, Trish was actually a very caring woman, her dedication was what made her the current choreographer and supervisor in charge of all performers.

At the end of your long tour, Monsieur Lefevre invited you to watch the rest of the rehearsal from the first row, with Trish now leaving to supervise everything. On stage you spotted Kyrie, who waved at you as soon as she recognized you. As you had deduced earlier, she was the main soprano of the theatre, when she started performing and singing as Madama Butterfly you were stunned by how spectacular her voice sounded.

‘Everyone here is so talented’. You pondered to yourself as you watched the entire scene, the backup dancers supporting Kyrie’s number and the stage crew operating the moving scenery and carrying the props. You hoped to fit well in this place.

During a break, your cellphone rang and you excused yourself to answer the call. After reaching a quiet enough place, you answered. It was a call from your mother.

Just a year ago, your father died from cancer, it was already on terminal stage when it was detected. Instead of taking chemotherapy, he wished to spend the little time he had left with you and your mother. You remember his last words towards you.

“My child, I know how you dream of becoming a singer. Hold on tight to that dream and never let go, one day you shall achieve everything you set your sights upon. I love you my angel of music, I shall always watch over you.”

His words gave you the strength to keep going forward and move on. Eventually your mother wanted you both to move out of Fortuna, but you decided to stay, wanting to become independent and start living by yourself. She respected your decision, and from then on, she would often call you to check on you.

After saying goodbye to your mother, you ended he call. However when you headed back to the stage you noticed that something felt odd. The hallway was empty, only the far away sound of the rehearsal could be heard, but for some reason you didn’t feel quite alone, in fact, you felt like you were being watched.

You glanced everywhere, but you didn’t spot anyone. Shrugging it off as your imagination, you continued walking through the hallway. It was then that you heard a whisper behind you, quickly turning around you thought you caught sight of a shadow rushing behind a corner. You took a couple of steps towards it, still not sure if what you saw was real or a part of your imagination.

“Hello?” you called out, but no answer came.

“(Y/N)”

Your heart almost leapt out of your chest. Trish was right behind you, having looking for you before finding you in the hallway. “There you are. Come, I want to introduce you to everyone.”

After getting to know your coworkers, you definitely felt welcome in this new little world.

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“So (Y/N), do you believe in ghosts?” The girl in the seat next to you, Nico, questioned you out of nowhere.

It’s been a couple months since you started working at the opera house. You and Kyrie instantly became friends and she introduced you to Nico, the stage crew coordinator who took care of every prop and moving scenery in the theatre. You would often hang out together, right now you were enjoying dinner at a small coffee shop downtown, you even found Trish along the way with Lady, a friend of hers who worked as a bounty hunter of sorts, she didn’t want to specify more about it but you respected the discretion. You five ladies had been having a moment of girl talk when Nico brought up her question about ghosts.

“I really can’t say I believe in them, I’ve never seen one myself but who knows? Why do you ask?”

“Well, just wondering in case you haven’t heard about the rumors.”

You looked at her in confusion until Kyrie decided to explain to you.

“I guess you haven’t heard them. People believe that a ghost is currently haunting the opera house, but so far no one’s been able to see it properly.”

“Yep.” Nico interrupted after taking a sip from her smoothie. “So far the only evidence are disappearing objects, props appearing in places they weren’t before, and some even claimed to have seen a shadow moving behind corners.”

A shadow moving behind corners?

“I personally don’t believe in such nonsense.” Trish stated nonchalantly. “Those might as well have been caused by careless crew members who would rather blame a ghost than admitting their irresponsible actions.”

“But what about what the concierge claimed the other day?” Kyrie continued with the conversation. “He said he heard a male voice in Box Four, which is odd because that box was empty that day, in fact no patron has requested that box in quite some time.”

“Maybe someone entered the box while security wasn’t looking?” You wondered aloud. It is true that you witnessed what Nico had previously said about misplaced objects and how sometimes you would feel watched although nobody was around but you, then again, Trish’s explanation actually made more sense than the existence of an actual ghost.

“Ghost or not, I hope whatever it was won’t cause you any trouble in the future.” Lady added in the hopes of changing the subject. “But enough of that, how about we instead talk about much more positive stuff?”

Though everyone in the booth agreed, you still had your doubts.

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It was just another day in the opera house, rehearsing and practicing your choreography for the next play. You were just finishing your dance lessons when you were approached by Nico.

“Hey there darlin’! Would you mind taking this props to the storeroom over there for me? Apparently a spotlight got damaged and I’ve got to check it out.”

After letting her know you didn’t mind at all, she gave you a thumbs up before leaving. Poor Nico, she really deserved a break.

After storing all the props away, you glanced around yourself. Noticing that the storeroom was empty, you decided to practice singing. After all these years, you still weren’t confident in your voice, and when your father died, it got worse, only singing when you were alone and sure nobody could hear you.

You started with one of your favorite songs.

“What if I were a snow storm burning,

what of I were a world unturning,

what if I were an ocean,

far too shallow, much too deep.

What if I were the kindest demon,

something you may not believe in

what if I were a siren

singing gentlemen to sleep.”

Suddenly the lights went out and the door to the storeroom slammed close, leaving you in almost complete darkness and making you let out a small scream of surprise. For some odd reason, the room felt much colder than before, goosebumps appearing on your skin.

A voice deep inside your heart told you, you were not alone in this room.

“I heard an angel singing, when the day was springing…” A dark male voice sounded from inside the darkness that surrounded you. You glanced around, looking for whoever was speaking, but you found nobody.

Was this the phantom that haunted the opera house?

“Mercy, pity, peace; is the world’s release. Thus she sung all day, over the new mown hay, till the sun went down and haycocks looked brown…” the voice continued, making shivers run down your spine. “Such beautiful voice, like that of an angel from The Creator’s celestial choir… a diamond in the rough that has yet to be polished, a flower that has yet to fully bloom.”

“Who are you? Show yourself!”

“Hush my divine angel, no need to fear. I am merely a patron of this fine theatre, one that has watched over its many successful plays in delight. And if you allow me to be frank, your voice is one of the most delectable I’ve heard during my stay here.”

Whoever this entity was, you had to admit his voice was having a calming effect on you despite how scared you were feeling. It was soft like fine silk and molten like pure honey dripping down.

“What do you want?” You inquired this mysterious ghost.

The entity chuckled deeply, one that you could feel rumbling in your chest. “You fear rejection, that’s why you hide your precious talent here, where no one but yourself can witness it. Alas, I have found you my shy angel, and now I’m afraid I can’t let you go.”

You took a few steps backwards hoping to find the door, however your attempt at escaping was thwarted when someone grasped your wrists from behind.

You let out a gasp. You could feel his breath on your neck “Running away from me? You hurt me so my child.” He spoke right next to you ear. The phantom’s presence was so overwhelming, and complete with his deep sensual voice you couldn’t help but blush and submit to him.

He slowly let go of your wrists, but you remained completely still. “I have looked after this opera house from the shadows since many years ago, its meaning a very important one for me. I have watched over you too, I have witnessed your determination, your fierceness to pursue your dreams and keep moving forward, they have warmed my heart deeply so.”

He turned you around, and though you couldn’t see him well, you could feel his eyes connecting with yours “I wish to help you achieve your dreams.”

You felt scared no longer. His embrace was so warm and safe, like a guardian willing to protect everyone that sought refuge. You still had your doubts though, who was this mysterious man? Was he really a ghost? A spirit tasked with protecting this building?

You closed your eyes. Without realizing it, you were already answering him “W-what do I have to do?”

A moment of silence. “Everyday, at 12 o’clock, this area is left completely unsupervised. I believe it is also the time all ballet dancers take an hour long break before continuing their lessons. At that time, you shall meet me here. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Complete silence. Before you knew it, the presence in front of you disappeared and shortly after, the lights went back on. When you opened the door, the voice spoke again.

“I shall be waiting for you, my angel of music.”

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So there you go! The first chapter of Music of the Night.

We meet the girls Trish, Lady, Nico and Kyrie in the opera house and befriend them shortly after. I’m planning to add the rest of the DMC cast as well so stay tuned.

A few references in this chapter: The song reader sings at the storeroom is called ‘What If’ and it’s by Emilie Autumn. Also, when the concierge mentions hearing a voice from Box Four it’s a reference to the original play; however in the original it was Box Five, I changed it to Four since according to a japanese superstition, the japanese word for ‘four’ sounds almost identical to their word for ‘death’. Quite befitting to this story and V in particular don’t you think?