#so before i left i demanded his email address

[sux2be]

taking my heart out and stomping into the ground dont you dare get another friend crush. dont fucking do it.

[local-lesbrarian]

Yesterday, the board of trustees for the library I work at voted unanimously against banning This Book Is Gay by Juno Dawson! This was a huge relief for me (and my fellow staff), and I just wanted to share a few takeaways from this experience.

For context, a library patron had submitted a formal request to have the book removed after seeing it displayed alongside other recent additions to our YA section. He took issue with, of course, the chapter on sex ed and provided pages of out-of-context quotes and straight-up lies to make the book appear "dangerous." Lots of the homophobia and puritanism you'd expect. Per our policies, we formed a committee to address his request, and the committee decided the book was fine where it was. Again per policy, he had the option to appeal to the board of trustees, which he took.

We found out he was doing this 5 days before the next board meeting. And even with that short warning, we had over 150 people show up to a small-town library board meeting that often has few or no public attendees! We couldn't fit everyone in our biggest room! Look at us all!!

Public comments are limited to 3 minutes or less, and that still lasted for more than an hour. People spoke who were parents, teachers, nurses, therapists, voting activists, workers at other libraries, and of course, many queer people. They talked about censorship, freedom of expression, freedom to read, the positive impacts of this book and books like it on youth, their own experiences as queer kids and teens or parents or such, and more--too many perspectives to list here. Every single speaker opposed the book ban. Every. One.

The patron who initiated this challenge was present, but left before public comment was over, without speaking.

So, those takeaways:

This is further evidence that campaigns of censorship and queer erasure are perpetuated by individuals and small groups, and don't represent the common view. You can check out stats on ala.org to back this up, but most people, including most parents, oppose book bans.

This turnout was gathered mainly through texts, email, chats (like Discord), phone calls, and word of mouth. Every town and city has people willing to fight and support those fighting the tides of fascism--keep in touch with your community and your allies, your local friends and trusted acquaintances, and when the time comes for action, they will show up.

Pushback, especially public, visible pushback, demoralizes bad actors. These are often people with little to do except organize and promote their hatred, often people with few material problems demanding their attention. (In this case, a retired eye doctor.) Give them a fight, and they often back down. If they don't back down, see #2 and beat them with numbers and passion.

Even after a victory, stay alert. We're prepping for litigation (not that we think he has a case, but he does have a reputation). We're also keeping a close eye on the smaller libraries in nearby towns and townships. Even if someone like this backs down once, they might try their luck somewhere easier. Keep those contact networks from #2 ready to go.

None of this is comprehensive, and your particular situation may well require different tactics. I'm not an expert, just a chronically online trans woman and librarian who's gotten unexpectedly attached to her current town. It was incredibly heartwarming to see so many people stand up for queer teens where I live, when it usually feels like nobody cares about what's happening to queers in the States. This post has already gone on longer than I expected, I'm just still quite emotional and wanted to talk about it. (Also still mentally drained from the past few days of stress...)

Huge shoutout to everyone who helped make this community action happen. Many of them were more eloquent or piercing in their comments, but here's my 3-minute spiel. It was delivered with none of the eye contact or dramatic reading I'd rehearsed because, holy shit, there were a lot of people there!

[blue-collar-mans-sub]

Swallow: the newest member of the boys’ club.

I had officially fucked up.

Let me explain—I was on my way home from Lowe’s, and found myself at a stoplight behind a younger biker. Maybe a 30s day, chunky boots, jeans, and a leather jacket.

I watched as he slowed down, dropped his feet to the asphalt, and walked his bike up to the stop line.

After he took off, I forgot about him. Until later that night, when I was pounding my meat. Suddenly I was looking up “biker” and “Harley” on Tumblr.

As it usually does when in horny, my horniness got the better of me and before I knew it, I banged out a Doublelist post titled “30s Alpha Bikers, Please Use Me!” I went on to describe I liked the idea of a rough, younger biker taking advantage of me; telling me what to do. Stated I liked military and authority figures, straight guys, masculine guys, and that discretion was assured.

I got one immediate reply: “bad scene, dude.” The message didn’t have an email address and was a waste of my time anyway. Fucking trolls

It wasn’t until the next day that I got my second:

40s. Ride a Harley. Former military. Got a pretty average cock, but shoot nice loads. I want sucked. Often. Get back at me with a place and time.

He sent a pic and he was, well, my type. Not pretty, rugged. I definitely noticed the thin blue line flag on his vest.

If I hadn’t been stroking when I read the reply—if I had came, maybe I wouldn’t have responded. But I did.

Gave the dude my address and said “whenever, just let me know.”

Next thing I know I was sucking on his hog. He just watched straight porn on his phone.

Soon enough, I heard him grunt and whisper, “swallow it.”

I did, and thanked him for feeding me a nice load.

He looked amused as he got up to go. Re-doing his belt, he looked at me and said “Not bad. Might hit you up some other night.”

“Anytime. Thanks for not beating the shit out of me. he laughed, and I should have left it there. But awkward me, always saying too much. “Never expected anyone like you to reply. It’s kinda weird—I always had this fantasy of being, like, the club bottom.”

He turned back to me on his way out to the mudroom.

“Yeah? That’s fucked up.” He seemed to think about it for a moment. He smirked and I saw an almost sadistic glint in his eye for a second. Something made him light up, anyway.

“So I got a group I ride with. Decent guys, we’re not a gang. Not a club. Just boys hanging out. Mostly vets, guardsman, retired military. A few of us are cops, we got a few tradesmen too. But all straight. And from what I know, kinky fuckers.”

I kinda liked the sound of that.

“Judge is kind of like our patriarch. He got us all together. We hang at his place by the marina. But point is, he caught his wife cheating. He didn’t really care too much. They ended up opening things up… but it was the secrecy and the lies he was mad about.

To punish her he ‘sentenced’ her to 6 months serving any of the guys, on demand. She did it, but after 6 months he made it clear she was off limits.

But some of us really got used to snapping our fingers and getting a suck job. That’s how it worked. We’d just snap or call for her and she’d do the rest. Pull it out, get it up, suck it down.”

Now if you’re serious, I know at least some of the guys would be willing to use a fa- uh, a queer cocksucker. But you’re gonna have to make it worth it. Dedication, probably full service. We never fucked Crystal… but you got two holes.

And if we do this, you gotta commit. You can’t start and then just disappear. The guys aren’t gonna want someone out there knowing they let a fa—fuck, a queer—swing on their dick.

Friday and Saturday nights you’re ours. Go home on Sunday and do what you do. But while you’re at the club, you obey.

Might even get you a vest like mine, if you stick around. Mark you as our little faggot cocksucker?”

That third time, he didn’t edit the “f” word. Hearing it made my dick harder than it was.

“Shit, that’s it. I got your nickname. “Swallow.” He kept going, sounding cocky. “Fuck, I can smell the desperation on you. You’re doing this. I’ll get the best embroidered and we’ll have them put a bull ring on the back, too.”

I must’ve looked confused.

“To hook your leash onto. Didn’t I mention the leash? It’s just to keep you obedient. …and, down where you belong.”

“Speaking of which, the thought of the club sharing another sex toy, that shit’s got me hard again.

Work another load out, Swallow.”

[aria-keplr]

Goro Akechi fluff ?

its been so long since I’ve consumed or made any media of P5, will try my best here 🤞

For the purposes of the story and my bad memory, Akechi is going to a private school.

Not fluff but pancake boy being caring :3

Being in the same high school with the detective prince really wasn’t all that special. Not many people cared , it was a private school after all. Fortunately or unfortunately, the choice is yours, you shared a few classes with him. Now obviously it’s not like you cared much. I mean it was cool you attend a school with this boy genius detective and what not. Albeit the only thing that was concerning is that he was falling behind. Of course being a detective and a high school student could be awfully stressful. You would always find that he would ask others for notes. Some teachers reprimanded him, some were lenient.

No matter what he had done, you now landed in a two period AP Literature class with him, doing an analysis project. The class is scattered around while the teacher does god knows what at her desk. You and Akechi opt for the small corner near the bookshelf. You and him never really interact outside of school matters. Despite not showing it, you could tell he’s frustrated. Small huffs and rubbing his face up and down as he reads the god awful 40 pages you two were assigned. Sure you have like two weeks left to finish this, but he seemed so stressed about it. You don’t really address it, probably something on his mind.

You open your mouth, thinking for a split second before speaking, “I can take care of the note taking… All you have to do is just write the essay”

It was a weak attempt at trying to relieve the workload he had.

“I’m almost done with the notes, its fine but thank you” He replies, still absorbed into the work.

You exhale softly, he had a tendency to do this, “Just share the document with me, we can work on it together Akechi,” Your tone isn’t demanding but stern.

He nods and types in your email, sending it to you and allowing you to edit it. Once you open it, it’s nothing less of what you expected. You smile slightly at this, “You know, you’re a good note writer”

You swear you left a crack in him, his eyes no longer a void, but not showing much. He nods, “Thank you”

You smile softly back and continue to work on the notes with one hour left, you won't see him again till lunch in like two periods. Your notes aren't as concise, neat, and arranged as Akechi’s is, but they’re something. As the bell rings, you both narrowly finish up the notes. You definitely lost a few brain cells. You lean back in your chair before closing your chromebook and gather your stuff to leave.

Before you could leave, Akechi clears his throat. You turn to him, looking slightly confused.

“Here’s my.. contact info I shouldn't be busy around 11 PM most days” He says while handing you a piece of paper. You almost find it strange that hes giving you his information.

“Why? Is there something you want to talk about outside of school?”

Not that you know it but he’s trying his best to play it normal, “Ah.. just in case you have any questions or concerns really”

The answer is weird, but you deem it acceptable, “Oh, alright, see you!” You turn on your heels and speed walk out the class, being a little behind schedule from the interaction between you and Akechi.

.

Shortly after school ends, you contact the number,

‘This is Akechi right?’

The reply is almost instantaneous, a buzzing from your phone is heard.

‘Yes this is’

It's a little strange, you thought he would’ve been more busy but it’s really none of your concern is it. Walking a little more, you sit down at a bus stop, waiting for it to arrive. You set your bag down next to you and reply back, only to find out he sent a second message.

‘Don't plan on taking a bus, there's been more reports of harassment and muggings on the bus’

You sigh and get up, I mean it would be foolish to not listen to a detective’s advice.Yet you find it weird that he somehow or it felt like he knew you would take the bus. You reply back finally,

‘Thanks for the heads up, I was about to take the bus lol’

Quickly you see the three bubbles as you get up and start to walk. Another buzz rattles your phone.

‘Be careful while walking too’

You raise your eyebrows and look around, wondering if he's watching you or something. You quickly shrug it off as paranoia and type back.

‘…’

‘So how tf am I supposed to get home safely 🧍’

It was a genuine question, you can't walk or take public transportation safely it seems. It's still a surprise at how quickly he responds as well.

‘I could walk you home, safer that way’

…

Then how is he supposed to be safe..?

You shrug and decide it's the best option, not like you have the money to call a cab right now, you spent it on snacks earlier. You take slow steps, sending a text back as you walk.

‘Sure, meet me outside of the Shinu Coffee shop’

He likes the message in response.

You take the short walk there, and shortly spot him there outside, almost looking stressed. I mean, it’s probably because of the public snapping photos of him. He spots you and quickly walks over, motioning his eyes to keep walking. You let out a blow of air before turning on your heels and speed walk, hoping to avoid the paparazzi. As you walk, you feel a small buzz in your phone again,

‘Uh, just meet me here, in a bit that is…’

He shortly sends a location, and within a good 20 minutes, he enters the cafe that he sent you. It was a warm small town cafe, simple yet cozy.

He smiles, lines under his eyes crease and his smile lines become apparent, “Sorry about all that,” he waves his hand as to excuse himself.

“No worries,” You reply.

You hum as you start to open your bag, opening up the small zipped up pocket taking out a thousand yen bill.

Although it seems like Akechi had the same idea.

He stares at you before you both give an awkward smile, “No I insist it's okay, I dragged you all the way here”

“You’re tired after all of it, it's quite alright,” you claim and smile.

On a normal occasion you would have let him pay, but he truly seemed exhausted.

“You like caramel lattes?”

Before you could even shake, nod and shrug, he stands up and heads to the counter to place his order. You’re taken aback by the absurdity of the prince detective actively offering you a drink. You slightly smile before he sits back down with the two drinks in hand. The smell of his coffee is strong, but he smells like pancakes nonetheless. His hair shines under the yellow light of the coffee shop, with his soft content after sipping from the paper cup, he closes his eyes.

What a charming young man he is.

[davidcampiti]

SCAMMERS BE SCAMMIN'

TRUE STORY: One of our artists brought us a client who wanted design work done. They asked him to start and would pre-pay. So far, so good.

Even before we received the check, the client sent me multiple emails requesting a deposit receipt to confirm we'd received/ deposited the check. While doing so, he wrote to the artist -- leaving me off the email -- saying an emergency had come up, they needed half the money returned. By wire transfer. To yet a different name and address from anything so far.

* The check came from an LLC in Massachusetts. Yet that check was shipped from another company in California. Instead of the check identifying the project being commissioned, it stated only "Payment Approved." First flag.

* Client seemed hesitant to give me his phone number, or his full name, and his generic email address gave no name from which we could perform client due diligence. Second flag.

* While he wrote to me asking for a deposit receipt, he wrote to our artist -- NOT copying me -- saying he needed half the money returned. He specifically left me out of that information loop while wanting a deposit confirmation. Third flag.

* It would have made FAR more sense for him simply to write me saying "Plans have changed, we can only pay for the 1st phase, so do not deposit that check; tear it up and we're putting a check for the revised amount in the mail to you today" rather than a far more complicated process of receiving/depositing/clearing/issuing rush refund. Fourth flag.

* He was pushing for a rush refund by methods different from the way he paid us (wire, Zelle); those methods cost a fee to send to him and offered us no protection. Fifth flag.

* The name and address for the requested wire transfer did not match any information on the check OR on the envelope's shipping address. Sixth flag.

* Even though our bank technically clears a check in a business day or two, we've had occasions from new clients where their check bounced and our account got docked for it 10 days later. We also had one instance where someone else did this exact same thing -- sent us a check, asked for a refund and, after we did so, their original check bounced. Seventh flag. But we were able to stop payment on our check and not get stiffed.

Our bank rep advised us not to issue any type or refund for "Seven to 10 business days" to make certain the LLC check clears and nobody tries to "stop payment" on it, as the only way to ensure the money is there. Once our Bank gives the all clear, I told the client I'd mail a refund by check -- the same method we were paid -- to the name and address on the original check.

As a faster alternative, because I have not yet released any money to the artist, I suggested the sender call his bank to stop payment today on the LLC check. "You could then pay us the revised amount and we could start from scratch."

Client wrote back that I'm a liar, that I was being selfish, that this delay could cost a child's life. I reiterated that his bank could stop payment on it, problem solved, and even sent him a link to the LLC's bank how to do it. In response, he continued to demand refund by wire transfer and even threatened to call the FBI. (!!!)

Of course it was a scam. Just by me holding off one day, I got to see the client's check to us BOUNCE, proving it was indeed a scam all along. Nearly thirty-one years of running Glass House Graphics gives me a pretty good spider-sense about this....

Discuss.

[ourxcountryadventure]

God, Gucci and Golf

July 29, 2023

What an extraordinary day we experienced. Our first part of the day was a visit to the Vatican. We planned ahead and did our homework and we’re able to get tickets for an official guided small group tour of the Museums and the Sistine Chapel at 8 am. This is the first tour of the day of this type and we needed to be there at 7:45 for security and entrance. Annie secured a cab for Amma, Poppa and Julien and the rest of us walked the short trip up the street to the Vatican Museum entrance where we all met up to enter together. There was no line up at all for our group entrance and we were in and set up with our tour audiobox by 7:50. The tour lasted approximately 2 hours and the beauty that we saw during that time and the engaging way our tour guide presented her knowledge to us was almost enough to overcome the sheer number of people and the heat inside the museums. Almost, but not quite. The tour was physically demanding (our smart watches clocked 11 flights of stairs), socially demanding (in one room there were 6 different guides with groups fighting for space) and emotionally taxing - we were at THE VATICAN! A hugely unexpected perk was that we learned that we had access to the Basilica from the Sistine Chapel. I had emailed two weeks ago and told that this was not possible. We were so glad for the change because I was trying to figure out how we could do both without a big wait and was coming up empty handed.

The Basilica itself is pure beauty. Every surface is a work of art. There are no pews but rather a vast expanse of floor that in itself is a sight to behold. Julien and I sat for a bit at the back on reflection at Pope Pius X to look around and gather our second wind and then we all moved to the front altar where Julien showed us the stairs that go down to the tomb of St Peter. There was a mass being held in the left transept and we messaged the group to let everyone know. The ushers had the mass roped off from late arrivals but they did not anticipate Diane Austin on a mission and she and Dad soon found themselves seated and then receiving Holy Communion. We continued to look around and then met up with Mom and Dad at the back of the church and made our way outside at 11 am to plan our next steps. Annie visited the gift shop and the Vatican post office to send home a postcard. Then she ordered us an Uber and it ferried us back to our apartment to meet up with Julie and Amelia. It was a big morning and we were all a bit tired.

Following lunch at La Fiorentina, Julie and the girls went shopping at Via dei Condotti. They had a lot of fun and ended up making a memory with a rip-off Uber that drove them in circles before dumping them out at the wrong address.

Syl got a real, Italian barbershop haircut and he looks great. He said the barber looked him all over and walked around examining his hair and then declared, “No problem! I can fix you.” Syl followed his visit with a big walk around the neighbourhood sporting his new do.

I attempted to do laundry but was thwarted by the two-in-one in our apartment that took an ungodly amount of time and never really worked. My second load of laundry finished at 1:30 am (Sunday) but was started at 8 pm Saturday. I believe I will declare this machine the mechanical version of the anti-Christ.

We had purchased tickets in advance for an evening golf cart tour offered by My Best Tour. I initially thought the name was presumptuous, but in the end it is absolutely perfect. John and Lorenzo, our drivers, picked us up at our front door and gave us 2.5 hours of fun, information and vistas of Rome that were the perfect finale to our visit to Rome.

The city was alive on Saturday night and we were able to experience the excitement up close. It was so wonderful.

Julien and Syl rode backwards on the golf cart in the third row and Julien’s trip was made when two women waved and smiled to him as we passed by. We assured him that he was hit on and he loved every minute of it.

We ended our night with a bit of comfort food delivered on a Vespa from McDonalds’s before bed. We sat around the table, discussed our day and declared our visit to Rome a success. Off to Venice tomorrow to continue the adventure.

[wheredafandomat]

You’re the boss

Loki x female reader: Workplace AU

Part 10

Previous Part

Next Part

To say you were confused was an understatement. You walked closer to the board, still unable to see Lokis name however you noticed that your portfolio had near doubled. The new Roxxon account you thought. Spinning around, you walked back towards Loki who was already looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“Congratulations.” He spoke.

“What’s going on?” You questioned.

“You’re the soul trader of the new Roxxon account.” He answered.

“What? Why? Why did you do that?”

“Because I—I’m—”

“You’re what? What’s going on Loki?” You demanded.

“I emailed you your flight tickets for Sunday, you just have to pick the meals.” Steve interrupted, tapping Loki on the shoulder before leaving.

So he was going on a business trip.

“Y/n can we talk in my office please?” He requested, nodding, you followed him. Once you both entered, he closed the door behind him. “Y/n, I got a promotion.”

“Oh that’s great.” You smiled, unsure whether you should give him a congratulatory kiss or whether that would just be awkward. Was this the reason he had been distant with you? Did he not want to tell you he got promoted? What’s so wrong with a promotion? Your mind raced as Loki continued looking at you with a saddened expression. “Loki?”

“It’s in London.” He finally admitted causing you to take a step backwards away from him as if he had just impaled you. Surely it would only be for a week maximum. Business trips weren’t uncommon in this field. “From this Sunday, I’ll be working for Stark Industries in London.”

“W-what?” You murmured, your arms wrapping around yourself as you looked at the ground, willing yourself not to cry.

“I wanted to tell you I just didn’t know how. It was a last minute transfer with the Stark offices there.” He explained, reaching out for your hands before you took another step backwards. It all made sense now. That’s what Steve was talking to him about. That’s why he was being so distant, he didn’t want to break the news he was leaving. Either that or he simply didn’t care about you as much as you did him.

“You knew” you spoke barley above a whisper as you looked up at him “you knew you were leaving since Tuesday and you’re only telling me now?”

“Y/n—”

“And you haven’t even spoken to me you’ve been so distant a-and—” you stuttered, words getting stuck in your throat.

“Y/n please, I’m sorry.” He insisted, hands finding your waist as he looked down at you “L—let’s spend tomorrow together. One last Saturday.” He smiled hopefully “one more date.”

“Leave me alone!” You yelled, moving from his grip, quickly wiping a tear that had rolled down your cheek. You looked at him one final time before you stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind you. You walked down the corridor, your colleagues congratulating you but you couldn’t hear them, your senses were clouded. Loki was leaving.

You left work early, you couldn’t be there right now. Instead, you decided you’d spend the early weekend alternating between watching chick flicks and crying into your pillow with the addition of teeth rotting confectionary. This was supposed to be good, you ranked highest and you had the new Roxxon account to yourself. This is what you wanted, what the y/n who spent years studying dreamed of yet you couldn’t have been more miserable. Even worse, you didn’t even get to say goodbye to Loki. It wasn’t his fault, if such an amazing opportunity like that one came up for you, you weren’t sure you’d abandon it for fun sex with someone you had met only a few weeks ago. You didn’t even know his address.

Loki felt awful. Downcast. This was an opportunity he found himself wishing for when he’d blow out his birthday candles and yet now he couldn’t be more upset that he’s got it. All his dreams finally here and yet they felt incomplete without you. After speaking to Bucky, he came to the realisation that he couldn’t pass up the opportunity of a lifetime for a girl he met a few weeks ago and that he wasn’t even sure was interested in him anymore. Besides, the contract was twelve months, he’d come back afterwards. Better, more skilled, larger portfolio.

By the time it was Sunday morning, Loki had finished all his packing for his red eye flight. He had said his goodbyes and yet he still hadn’t spoken to you since Friday. Regardless of whether or not you wanted to see him, he couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to you, he wouldn’t. He got dressed before heading towards your apartment. He quickly grabbed a couple of coffees and pastries on the way remembering that it was so early in the morning. He hoped he wouldn’t be waking you up.

When he arrived at your apartment, you wouldn’t answer so he had to slip in with someone else before he made his way to your front door. Obviously you didn’t want to see him but he had to at least see you one last time before he left. Holding the bag and coffee in one hand, he raised the other and took a deep breath before knocking the door.

No answer

He knocked again, using a little more force this time but there was still no answer.

“Y/n it’s me.” He called. He felt stupid, obviously you would be less likely to open the door hearing that it was him knocking, you probably saw him in the camera when he had pressed your buzzer.

“I don’t think she’s in.”

Spinning around, Loki was met by a different woman, holding a cat in her arms as she looked at him.

“Oh.” Loki answered.

“I saw her leave earlier and I didn’t see her come back. Would you like me to take a message? Tell her you dropped by?” She offered.

“Um” Loki thought, maybe it was better you didn’t know he came, maybe it would make things easier. “No worries.” He smiled “coffee?”

After leaving the coffee and the pastries with the woman, Loki walked out of the apartment building with his head down. That was it, he was leaving and he wasn’t even able to say goodbye to you. He wanted to wait, to stand outside your door and wait for you to come home but who knew when that was. He had a flight to catch.

LOKI EVEN BROUGHT STARBIEEZZ 😭😭

NNNEXTTT

Tags:

@michelleleewise @lokisprettygirl22 @mischief2sarawr @lokiprompts21 @lokisninerealms @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @vickie5446 @javagirl328 @lulubelle814 @mcufan72 @commanding-officer @crazyunsexycool @lucylaufeyson3 @huntress-artemiss @

[xipiti]

[EDITED TO ADD:]This post is about 2 cats who are named Jean and Jorts, cat tax HERE :

UPDATE is here

THE STORY We have two workplace cats in one area of our worksite. They add value to the worksite, we all love the cats and the worksite cat presence is not the issue. One of the cats (Jean) is a tortoiseshell cat we have had for years. The other cat (Jorts) is a large orange cat and a recent addition.

Jorts is just… kind of a simple guy. For example, Jorts can’t open a door even when it’s ajar— he shoves it whether he is going in or out, so often he closes the door he is trying to go through. This means he is often trapped inside the place he was trying to exit and meows until he is rescued.

My colleague Pam (not her real name) has been spending a lot of time trying to teach Jorts things. The doors thing is the main example — it’s a real issue because the cats are fed in a closet and Jorts keeps pushing the door closed. Jean can actually open all the other interior doors since they are a lever type knob, but she can’t open this particular door if she is trapped INSIDE the closet.

Tortie Jean is very nice to poor orange Jorts, and she is kept busy letting him out of rooms he has trapped himself in, so this seems easy to resolve. I put down a door stop.

Pam then said I was depriving Jorts of the “chance to learn” and kept removing the doorstop. She set up a series of special learning activities for Jorts, and tried to put these tasks on the whiteboard of daily team tasks (I erased them). She thinks we need to teach him how to clean himself better and how to get out of minor barriers like when he gets a cup stuck on his head, etc. I love Jorts but he’s just dumb af and we can’t change that.

Don’t get me wrong— watching her try to teach Jorts how to walk through a door is hilarious, but Jean got locked in the closet twice last week. Yesterday I installed a cat cutout thing in the door and Pam started getting really huffy. I made a gentle joke about “you can’t expect Jean’s tortoiseshell smarts from orange cat Jorts” which made Pam FURIOUS. She started crying and left the hallway, then sent an email to the group (including volunteers) and went home early.

In her email Pam said I was “perpetuating ethnic stereotypes by saying orange cats are dumb” and is demanding a racial sensitivity training before she will return. I don’t think it’s relevant but just in case, Pam is a white person in a mostly minority staff (and no she is not ginger/does not have red hair).

TL;DR: AITA for ‘enforcing an ethnic stereotype’ by joking that orange cats are often dumb?

The Update:

Original HERE

Thanks for responding to my query which had truly upset me. I work to have a good relationship with my team and the situation had gotten weird so gradually that I lost perspective.

I just met with HR, she had already met with Pam. HR was concerned about Pam’s comparing ethnic stereotypes with giving a cat a doorstop and they addressed that which went well. HR will follow up to make sure Pam understands. (The replies to my query were helpful to me for this discussion.)

HR also addressed Pam assigning other staff Jorts-related tutoring, as it is not appropriate for Pam to assign others work. This also went well.

We both think Pam had a hard time with the transition from volunteer to staff, and may have “new kid” sensitivity projected to Jorts. Pam got emotional about her perception that I favor Jean over Jorts and gave specific examples. Some of these things are fair. Jorts deserves respect as a member of our team.

There are 3 buildings in our workplace. Jean and Jorts are limited to one. HR told me there were 5 holdouts about vaccines, and restricting unvaccinated people from entering the building (to protect Jean and Jorts) was enough to win over 4 of them. That’s CRAZY, but great.

More importantly: the cats’ presence greatly enhances our work with our clients, and Jorts’ friendly nature has been so great. Both cats truly are doing important work. Truly Jorts deserves to be treated with respect.

We all deserve to be treated with dignity at work, so I will apologize to Jorts about some things that were insensitive or disrespectful.

a. Jean has a nice cat bed with her name on it, while Jorts has chosen an old boot tray in my office with a towel in it. Recently a visitor put wet boots in the boot tray and Pam saw Jorts sleeping on the wet boots. I bought a bed for Jorts today and a name tag has been ordered.

b. I will apologize to Jorts and remove the sign saying “DAYS SINCE JORTS HAD A TRASH CAN MISHAP: 0” Jorts likes to fish dirty paper cups out and he often falls into the bin or gets a cup stuck on his head, etc. (He is able to get out of the bin by tipping it over so it isn’t a safety issue.)

c. Jean’s “staff bio” has a photo of Jean, while Jorts’ bio has a photo of a sweet potato. I did not actually know either cat had a staff bio, but we will use a photo of Jorts instead of a sweet potato.

HR also suggested changing Pam’s duties so she is “in charge” of the cats. This I refused, the cats are my staff, not Pam’s. I think Pam was well-intended but actually not meeting the needs of either Jean or Jorts so they remain under my supervision. (Pam is also not to put cups on Jorts’ head or intentionally put him into frustrating situations given his unique needs.)

Lastly, and this made us both laugh so hard we can’t deal with it in person and will be said via email: Pam admits that she has been putting margarine on Jorts in an attempt to teach him to groom himself better. This may explain the diarrhea problem Jean developed (which required a vet visit).

Pam is NOT to apply margarine to any of her coworkers. Jean has shown she is willing to be in charge of helping Jorts stay clean. If this task becomes onerous for Jean, we can have a groomer help. I am crying laughing typing this.

added: I’m so glad this brought joy. Fan mail can be directed to jortsandjean @ gmail dot com.

or follow the Jorts and Jean joke account on twitter @JortsTheCat

[ravennm84]

Doctor’s Note

We all know how Lila fakes having different diseases and medical problems, but what would happen if she actually got sick and her mother went to the school to drop off a doctor’s note and pick up Lila’s assignments? Want the answer? Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!

Greta Rossi could admit that she was a bit of a workaholic. Being the secretary to the assistant ambassador of Italy, in a city that was constantly under attack by a magical terrorist, was not the easiest job in the world either. It took a lot of early mornings, late nights, and even some weekends to make sure everything was prepared for her boss. But that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t drop everything for her one and only daughter when she needed her. 

Right now, for example, Lila was trapped in bed with a nasty case of strep throat. The poor girl had a fever, white pustules at the back of her throat, and could hardly stop coughing. It was only due to some very strong medicine that she was able to stop coughing long enough to pass out from exhaustion. 

She had contacted her work to let them know she would be taking the week off, and the ambassador had been very understanding. Stressing that he knew how dedicated she was to her work and that it was good for her to take time off for her family. It was only after Lila was sound asleep that she made the phone call to her school, she wanted to make sure they knew why Lila was staying home and that she would be in later that afternoon to pick up her daughter’s assignments for the next week.

The principal, M. Damocles was his name, seemed very happy to have spoken to her and said that he would have her assignments waiting when she came to pick them up. Also, if she could bring the doctors’ notes with her, that would be very much appreciated.

Checking again that Lila was sound asleep, she left a note on her daughter’s bedside table that she was running some errands, would be home soon, and to text her if she needed anything. 

Arriving at the school, she was surprised to see everything running so smoothly and that the reconstruction after the two month akuma attack had been gone so well. She was impressed that she couldn’t even tell the difference between the old and new parts of the building. But then, she wasn’t overly skilled with architecture or building construction, so that wasn’t a surprise to her. 

A few knocks on the door and she entered M. Damocles office. She had only met the man a couple times, but he had seemed like a decent person. It was a shame that he had been akumatized for so long and she was curious about what had happened to cause him to be akumatized, but she wasn’t sure if it was proper to ask him.

“Mme. Rossi, good to see you. I understand that Lila has fallen ill?” He asked, spinning around to grab a blue folder behind his desk.

“Yes, the poor dear has strep throat and has been coughing nonstop for days.” Greta told him as she pulled the doctor’s note from her purse. “Here’s the note you requested, do you have her homework packet?”

Damocles looked over the note for a moment before nodding and looking at her expectantly. “Thank you, do you have her other doctor’s notes?”

Greta tilted her head in confusion. “Does she need more than one? It’s just strep throat, she should be back to school after next week.”

“No madam, this is all I need for her current leave from school. I was referring to the doctor’s notes for her tinnitus, arthritis, sprained wrist, and her lying disease. That last one especially, and any information you can give me on accommodating that one so we do not have a repeat of the incident last month.”

Nothing in the world could have kept her jaw from dropping. What he had just told her? “M. Damocles, everything you just said is completely false. Lila has no such ailments, and I don’t think there is such a thing as a lying disease, unless you are referring to pathological lying.”

The man blinked back at her a few times before raising one hand to rub his brow. “Oh my, Mme. Rossi, I believe you and I must have a long discussion about the things your daughter has been saying and doing since she started school here.”

Her legs were stiff as she lowered herself into a chair, a sick feeling growing in her stomach as M. Damocles pulled a different folder out from his desk.

~oOo~

Over two hours later, many truths had finally come out. 

1) The school had never closed for months due to akumas. 

2) When M. Damocles had been akumatized, it had been at night and did no damage to the school. 

3) Greta was not the ambassador, but a secretary. 

4) Lila did not suffer from any diseases. 

5) They had been in Paris since Lila had started school, no globetrotting whatsoever. 

6) She and her husband were not estranged, he had simply wanted to stay at his dream  job in Venice and she would never force him to leave it for her temporary assignment here in Paris. 

7) Lila’s grandmother was alive and had never owned or given Lila a foxtail necklace. 

8) The phone number on file was Lila’s number, not Greta’s. And the email was supposed to be ‘.gov’ not ‘.com’.

Damocles had also called one of Lila’s classmates to his office, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. When the principal told Greta about the incident from the previous month, she was shocked. Then Marinette told them her side of the story; all the lies, the threats, and finally setting the poor girl up to be expelled. Greta had never been so angry with her daughter in her life. Sure, she had been a good little story teller and actress when she was little, but she never would have thought she could be so cruel.

By the end of her explanation, Marinette was practically in tears.

When she mentioned that Adrien Agreste also knew of Lila’s lies, he was called to the office as well. He was a little more reluctant to talk about what Lila had been saying, but Greta insisted that she wanted to know what her daughter had been doing since coming to school, so he told her. If she hadn’t been disgusted before, she definitely was now. Getting Adrien’s father’s employees in trouble, lying about being friends with Ladybug all while telling Greta that she was a useless hero, sexually harassing Adrien while the boy didn’t even realize that was what she was doing to him. She had become a Gabriel model without her permission, which meant that Lila had likely forged her signatures on the contracts, so she would need to contact M. Agreste to get that sorted out. One of the things that surprised her was hearing that Lila had been akumatized, not once or twice, but three times! 

Not long after that, M. Damocles dismissed the children so he and Greta could finish speaking. He told her that, due to falsifying contact records and two months of truancy, Lila was likely to be expelled. Greta accepted this, knowing that she would have done the same thing in that man’s position. In fact, she already had a plan forming on how to thoroughly punish her deceitful daughter. And since Lila had basically been quarantined for the next week and a half, she knew exactly what to do.

First, she began the paperwork to have Lila pulled out of Francois Dupont, effective immediately and asked to go speak to Lila’s classmates. After hearing what her daughter had put Marinette through, she wanted to make sure everyone knew the truth. Damocles allowed this, first pulling Mme. Bustier from the class to alert her as to what was happening. The woman was appalled to hear what had happened but insisted that she had been in contact with her for months via email, to which Greta informed her that it was not her email, but one that Lila had likely set up to keep the school from contacting her. This shocked the teacher to the point where she heavily leaned against the wall and M. Damocles had to support her to keep from collapsing.

When Greta was finally permitted to address the class and debunk the lies that her daughter had been spewing, there had been a lot of shock and questions to follow. But when a girl named Alya began furiously typing on her phone to blow up at Lila, Greta stopped her.

“I’m going to ask that none of you contact Lila from now on.” Alya and the other students looked at her in surprise, but she continued before anyone could interrupt. “I have already begun putting her punishment into motion and know for a fact that it will not be something she will forget anytime soon. So I ask that you do not call, text, or email her. If she attempts to contact you, tell her that you are busy and can’t talk. If she attempts to invite you over or make plans for the future, tell her that you are unavailable or that you already have plans. If she makes any threats or rude remarks to anyone, please forward those messages to me, I will leave my number for you to do so. Do this so that I may move forward with her punishment without her suspecting that I have discovered the truth.”

Having finally had the wool lifted from their eyes, the students realized just how much attention Lila seemed to demand on a daily basis. So, by acting like they were too busy for her or not in the mood to talk, that will drive her crazy and be a nice bit of revenge for lying to them. The class agreed.

After that, Greta headed home to find that Lila was still asleep but beginning to wake up, if the coughing was any indicator. While still having the chance, she called up her husband back in Venice.

“Pronto.”

“Mio amor, how are you? How are things at the school?”

“Ah, mia bella, the school is wonderful, though I must admit, my urge to see you and Lila grows by the minute. When will you come to visit me?”

“Very soon, actually. I’m afraid that you and I need to have a talk about our daughter.” About thirty minutes and a lot of cursing later, Ciro Rossi was now completely up to date on the actions of their daughter.

“I wish to say that I cannot believe Lila would do such things, but I can’t help remembering that boy, Roberto, from two years ago.”

Yes, Greta remembered him well. He had been a very popular boy at Lila’s school; handsome, rich, from a very well connected family, and from what she understood, completely dedicated to his boyfriend. She hadn’t paid him much attention until Lila came home crying that Roberto had attempted to sexually assault her. Greta and Ciro had refused to let such a thing go unchecked and went to the police to report him. During the weeks to follow, Roberto was put through hell; bullied at school, he was beaten up a few times, his boyfriend broke up with him, and his name slandered all over Venice. They had believed what happened to the boy to be justified… until proof was provided that he was nowhere near Lila when she claimed to have been assaulted. 

She suddenly recanted her story, saying that she must have been mistaken and someone that looked like Roberto assaulted her, but the damage had already been done. The boy and his family moved somewhere far away, and Greta and Ciro were forced to pay restitution to Roberto for ruining his name and reputation. Through her tears, Lila convinced them that it had been an honest mistake and that she hadn’t meant for any of that to happen. It wasn’t long after that, Greta received an offer to be the secretary for the assistant ambassador in Paris. Lila had begged her mother to go with her, claiming that her classmates were now bullying her for what happened to Roberto. Wanting to protect their daughter, they agreed.

Looking back on it now, and noticing the similarities between Roberto and Adrien, both Greta and Ciro were disappointed in themselves for not seeing the truth. Which likely was that Lila had tried to get close to Roberto for his money and connections, and when he turned her down, she lied about the assault to ruin his life, much like she had done to Marinette. And when it came out that she had lied about Roberto, her classmates had turned on her. So when she got the chance to start somewhere new, with people who didn’t know about her lies, she took it. Not caring if she harmed anyone at her new school while repeating old habits. But they were not about to let Lila do the same thing to Adrien or Marinette. Once Greta told her husband her plan, he was all for it and began preparing things on his end. By the time Lila was done being sick, her entire life would have turned upside down.

~oOo~

It took a lot more effort than Greta had expected to hide her intentions for the nine days it took for Lila to get over her case of strep throat, but she had been making good use of that time. 

She had contacted Gabriel Agreste’s secretary and asked about any contracts that may have been signed. When she told her she hadn’t signed any contract and that her daughter would no longer be modelling, the woman had no choice but to accept this and inform M. Agreste of this development. The woman also informed Greta that such a breach of contract would result in Lila being blacklisted from the fashion industry. She agreed and promised that she would inform her daughter of this once she was better.

Greta then looked into Lila’s savings and trust fund, of which she had control of since Lila was still a minor. She drained the accounts to pay restitutions to Marinette for bullying and slander, Adrien for sexual harassment; and then sent the rest of it to Roberto, along with a message that she was now completely aware of the type of person her daughter was and would be adequately punished very soon.

And to keep too much suspicion off of her, Greta began mentioning to Lila how her father desperately wanted to see her after she got better, so after the doctor gave her a clean bill of health, they would be going to Venice to see him. Now that she was watching, Greta saw the twinge of uncertainty at the mention of Venice, but quickly covered it with false excitement for going back to visit her father.

As the day grew closer that they would be heading to Italy, Greta also noticed Lila glaring at her phone with utter malice. She might not have known what was going on if Lila’s classmate, Alya, wasn’t keeping her up-to-date on what Lila was telling them. Her daughter was attempting to tell the class that she was going to be going on a trip with a famous singer after she was better, but her classmates were doing as Greta asked and treating the lies as if they meant nothing. When she accused Marinette of calling her a liar while she was sick and couldn’t defend herself, the class stopped responding. 

One message that was forwarded to Greta nearly had her abandoning her plan and confronting her daughter at that moment. It was a message that Lila had sent to Marinette, who had shared it with Alya, who then forwarded it to Greta. It read:

You fugly, no talent bitch! You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Those stupid sheep were eating up every single one of my lies before I got sick, and now they won’t even talk to me! Just you wait. When I get back to school, I’m going to ruin you in every way imaginable. No one will want to be your friend. By the time I’m done with you, I hope you kill yourself. Maybe I’ll convince someone that you tried to kill me and they’ll kill you for me. Either way, you’re dead. And even if you show someone these messages, no one will believe you over me. 

Greta forwarded the message to Ciro as well. He called her right away to discuss other accommodations that they would be making for Lila in the coming days. There was something seriously wrong with their daughter, and they refused to turn a blind eye to what was happening.

When the day finally came that Lila was better and they were heading to Venice, Greta instructed Lila not to pack her more expensive clothes as she would not want to lose them if their baggage got lost. What her daughter didn’t know was that Greta was planning on selling all of her designer clothes, jewelry, her electronics, and everything else to continue paying restitutions to Marinette, Adrien, and Roberto. And it wasn’t like she would need them soon, anyway.

The plane ride was a bit nerve racking for Greta, as she worried about giving something away and Lila figuring out her plan; but if she did, it didn’t show. When they landed at Venice Marco Polo Airport, she had to resist her sigh of relief. The plan was almost ready to be put in action. 

When she saw Ciro waiting for them in his dress whites, her heart sped a bit more. The man was, without a doubt, the most handsome man she’d ever met, and was the love of her life. Being away from him for so long was difficult, but what else could they do? Her husband was a Capitano di Vascello of the Italian Navy and had worked very hard to get where he was. Although he was semi-retired now and no longer served on a ship, he had followed his dream and became the Vice Principal for the premier naval academy in Venice, Francesco Morosini Naval Military School. 

He had gone to the school when he was younger and always claimed that it was the best experience he could have ever wished for. That being in that school saved his life. So when he continued into the navy to serve his country, he made it his goal to one day become the Principal of the school that saved him, so that he could do the same for other students. And now, they would be doing the same for Lila.

Greta and Ciro had thought of admitting Lila to Francesco Morosini when she came of age, but quickly realized that she was not the Navy type and did not want to force her into it. That choice was no longer Lila’s and she would be staying at the military school where it was Ciro’s job, not only as a father, but as an administrator of the school, to keep a close eye on any problem children.

Ciro embraced Greta and then Lila before taking their bags and walking them to his car. Lila was talking at length to her father about all her friends at school, all the happenings in Paris, and even mentioned her boyfriend, Adrien Agreste.

“You would like him, Papa. He’s a model, a gentleman, and his father is the designer, Gabriel Agreste. And he treats me like a princess!” Lila gushed as she showed her father a picture of Lila kissing the blonde boy’s cheek. Greta had seen that picture and had even asked Adrien about it while they had spoken in M. Damocles office. Lila had apparently kissed him without permission when she took that picture, and then sent it to every girl in Adrien’s contact list to make it seem like they were dating. 

Ciro played along, asking questions about her classes, Adrien, the akuma situation that he had heard about over the news, and other things to keep Lila from growing suspicious. Sure enough, she prattled on through the entire car and ferry ride to Venice. Only seeming to look around questioning when they arrived at the Naval school, rather than their apartment.

“What are we doing here?” She asked, looking at her father in confusion.

The two parents dropped the act and glared at their daughter in disappointment and anger. “I’m surprised at you, young lady,” Greta started. “Did you really think you could keep lying to us? We. Know. Everything.”

They watched as her olive skin quickly paled. “What do you mean? I didn’t lie, I sw-”

“We know the school never closed,” Ciro interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument or interruption. “We know about you lying to your classmates and teachers about having disabilities and diseases. We know about you changing our contact information on your school records. We know about you bullying and sexually harassing your classmates. We know about the threats you’ve made to that one girl. We know that you’ve been akumatized multiple times. We know the truth about what you really did to Roberto two years ago! WE KNOW EVERYTHING!”

With every word he said, Lila seemed to inch away from her irate parents and shrink into herself. At the same time, they saw the rage and contemplation in her eyes. She was angry at being caught and was already trying to think of a way out of trouble. Not that they would give her a chance to even try.

“But I didn’t li-”

“Lie number one, Ladybug is a useless superhero that let your school get damaged and spent months trying to deakumatize your principal, which is why you were out of school for two months.” Greta interrupted that time, pinning her daughter with a glare that she usually reserved for idiot interns who screwed up important paperwork at the embassy. “I personally spoke to your principal and looked into Ladybug. The school never closed. Ladybug and Chat Noir have always defeated the akumas and restored the damage thanks to their abilities. And you told the school that you and I were off globetrotting to places like Achu.”

Her eyes grew to the size of saucers. She was just beginning to stammer out an excuse when her father spoke over her.

“Lie number two, a girl named Marinette Dupain-Cheng has been bullying you because she is jealous of your relationship with your boyfriend, Adrien Agreste. We have seen the texts that you have sent that girl, the most recent saying,” Ciro pulled out his phone to read off of the text “‘...I’m going to ruin you in every way imaginable. No one will want to be your friend. By the time I’m done with you, I hope you kill yourself…’ Does that sound familiar to you?” 

“I also personally spoke to Adrien after I spoke to Marinette, and found out that not only are you not his girlfriend, but you have been sexually harassing him! You even showed us proof in that picture you took where you kissed him!”

“But that’s not sexual harassment!” Lila shot back at them as her panic grew.

“Any unwelcome sexual advances, requests for sexual favors, and other verbal or physical conduct of a sexual nature constitutes sexual harassment. Your mother and I memorized that when you accused Roberto of assault, which is another thing you lied about! And let me guess, you wanted to use that boy’s popularity and family connections for a leg-up, but he turned down your advances since he was gay. You didn’t take that rejection well, so you told us he assaulted you. Is that what happened?”

“How did you-” Lila interrupted herself that time by slapping her hand over her mouth, quickly realizing that she had confirmed what her father had just said.

“Well, congratulations young lady. You have earned a complete overhaul on your life.” 

“What do you mean?” Lila didn’t want to know, but it seemed like she had no choice but to ask.

“Your modelling contract with Gabriel is done,” Greta told her, noticing her wince since they weren’t supposed to know about that either. “I spoke with his assistant and discovered that you forged my signatures on the contracts to let you model. They were kind enough not to pursue legal action against you, but they have asked that I inform you that you have been blacklisted from the fashion industry, so that career option is completely closed off to you.”

“Your mother educated your friends at school with the truth. They know about all your lies and have kept us apprised of what you have been saying, the rumors you have been attempting to spread about going on a trip with a random music star, and were kind enough to forward that threatening message you sent to that girl, Marinette. They are no longer interested in being your ‘sheep’.”

“Not that you will be returning to that school,” Greta continued. “Your truancy has made that impossible, even if we did want you to stay there to face the consequences of your actions. Which includes paying restitution to the people you’ve hurt.”

“Paying!” Ciro and Greta watched as Lila’s right eye began to twitch as she snapped at them.

“Yes, paying. I’ve already emptied out your savings and trust fund to pay back Marinette, Adrien, and Roberto for what you’ve done to them-”

“You can’t do that! That’s my money!” She screamed, stomping her foot at her mother like a five year old throwing a tantrum.

“Money that you earned illegally modelling after forging my signature. And you are a minor, I am well within my rights to take that money to pay for the damages you have incurred. I will also be selling your laptop, tablet, mobile phone, as well as the clothes and jewelry you left in Paris. Seeing as you won’t be needing them anymore.”

As she said this, Lila clutched her phone and hugged it against her chest. “How am I supposed to talk to anyone without my phone?”

“Pen and paper, and if you need to speak with your mother, there’s my office phone or the payphone in the barracks, where you will be staying.” 

The girl’s eyes grew impossibly wide as she looked at her parents in a panic. They couldn’t mean…

Ciro smiled the smile that he used to greet the families whose children were in need of discipline. “Welcome to Francesco Morosini Naval Military School, where we strive to give children an education that will help them for their future and the world that waits for them.”

~oOo~

There had been a lot of begging, crying, and screaming after that as Lila did everything she could to try and change her parents’ minds. This was a total nightmare for her. Forced to wear a uniform she hated. Surrounded by students, teachers, and her father; all of whom knew that she was a liar. No one gave her the type of attention she craved, but everyone was giving her the overly watchful attention she despised. She couldn’t even enjoy becoming an akuma anymore, as she was far out of Hawkmoth’s reach.

Greta and Ciro had gone out to dinner afterwards in an attempt to de-stress, only to get a call an hour later that Lila had tried to steal a boat and run away from the school. She was put on a 24/7 watch after that, now required to wear a tracking monitor wherever she went and was on bathroom and floor cleaning duty for the foreseeable future.

When Greta returned to Paris, she went about doing exactly as she promised. She sold Lila’s electronics, clothes, and jewelry; only keeping a pair of plastic stud earrings that her grandmother had given her. She met with M. Damocles again to let him know that everything had been taken care of. She contacted the Dupain-Cheng family to let them know that Lila wouldn’t be bothering their daughter again. That was probably the most pleasant thing she did, as they were a lovely family and sent her off with a box of assorted scones, so yummy! When she had them send a box of goodies to her husband in Venice, he called her a few days later and begged her to send more whenever she could.

Lila absolutely hated seeing her father enjoy pastries from the bakery of her rival’s family. That, along with being forced to talk to a psychiatrist three times a week to make her admit that she was a liar and to figure out why she feels the need to lie. All while wearing a horrible uniform and actually having to clean. She was in her own personal hell. How she wished that she had never gotten sick.

Taglist:

@2confused-2doanything @7-sage-7 @aadnrsstar @abrx2002 @awkwardromances @bayball @babylovebug18 @botanicalfoxx @back-cats-and-broken-mirrors @caffeinetheory @cheshire5210 @chocolateherringtacofan @city-of-all-tunas @classycollectorreviewworld  @corabeth11 @chocolatechipcookiesandcamembert @darkened-flame @delightfulcookiesrecipespizza @fandom-trapped-03 @ghostmaster  @iamblinkmarvelarmy @interobanginyourmom @izang @jesussavedevenme @kazedancer @kitten12113 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @lilypotter2018 @lunataravler @ladylupuscrow @maskedpainter @miraculouslydumb @nerd-nowandforever @naruwitch @ola-is-dead  @pandacatxd @plushbookworm @plz-excuse-my-inner-ravenclaw @pheonix-biach @pandora-fucking-box @raiderofthelostbooks @ramos123 @rowanrouge @rowanyx @ren121 @seesea22 @seraphichana @sashakoi @shypeacekitten  @tazer6787 @that-girl-sakea @thecrazyfantrollshasmoved @the-smallest-kittenz  @tishwinchesterannabethjackson @t1dwarrior-of-earth  @ulmban  @with-forward-motion @wonderbat91939  @zoiechance

[infinitecrime]

I feel like I should make a post detailing the Sebastian Stan drama because I see a whoooole lot of bad takes and misinformation and blatant lies going around. I’ve been on tumblr for nearly a decade at this point and this is genuinely one of the scariest and most out of control situations I have seen.

A quick summary for anyone who hasn’t been following: Last week, Seb was pictured with a women. Many assumed this was his girlfriend but this has not been confirmed. Fans began combing through her life and social media to find something incriminating. I feel like this is important, that the hatred came first, and the reason came after. They found a photo of the girl, from 2 years ago. I will include it for transparency (she is on the left): she is at an ‘Asian night’ party/club night, wearing a kimono. 

It’s insensitive to use culture as a costume, and to lump all the diverse and distinct Asian cultures together into one party theme, decorated with pound shop Chinese lanterns. It is cultural appropriation. A number of Asian people were understandably upset by this photo and her actions. 

But let me be very clear: These are not his actions. He was not at the party, he did not wear the kimono, he did not post or like the photo, he did not endorse, condone or defend the actions in any way. We have never seen them together before, so presumably this is 2 years before they met. He does not follow her or the friend that posted it 2 years ago on Instagram. There is no reasonable expectation that he ever would have seen this photo. He almost certainly did not know it existed.

He cannot apologise or seek redemption for someone else actions. He cannot set a precedent where he is responsible for everything everyone who comes within 20ft of him did, years before they even met. It is completely insane to expect him to do a full background check on everyone he makes out with, or to expect him and all his acquaintances to be ideologically pure, not be ignorant about anything and never make a mistake.

Some people seemed to realise that he cannot be held responsible for other people’s actions, so they invented something to pin blame on him: he defended her! I searched high and low for his statement defending her. He did not make one. Instead, he allegedly blocked a handful of people who spammed his comments with demands for apologies. At least one of these blocks has been outed as photoshop. If the others are real, we don’t know if it was him or his PR team. We don’t know if their innocent public comment alerting him to an issue was accompanied by vile death threats in his DM’s. Regardless, he is within his rights to protect his mental health by blocking people who harass him about something that is, frankly, none of his business. Blocking is not defending her.

I often hear: cancel culture is not real, it’s simply facing the consequences of your actions. So lets do an experiment where we outline the actions and consequences. If you were involved in the vile hashtags and threats made against him, ask yourself: Are these reasonable, proportional and deserved? Do I have the authority to distribute these consequences? Am I making the world a better place - or a worse one? Is my moral high ground getting a little shaky? 

Action: 

Kissed a girl who wore a kimono 2 years before they met. Allegedly (!!) blocked a few people who harassed him about it despite it being nothing to do with him.

Consequences:

Doxxed, pictures of his apartment and his address leaked online. He will almost certainly have to move from his HOME.

Intense death threats and suicide baiting, including #RIPSebastianStan trending, which his family may have seen and actually thought he had died, photoshopped articles and memorial pictures that say he died

Actual danger to his physical safety through the release of his home address

Emails sent to his newly signed agency and employers to get him FIRED

Severe damage to his reputation including news articles with his name and ‘racist post’ in the title, that do not make it clear it was not his post!!

Most likely a severe hit to his mental health, which he has said before he struggles with, particularly from all the KILL YOUR SELF CLOWN messages

If he was with the girl - well, I doubt he is now, so the possible destruction of his relationship, instead of her getting a chance to learn, educate herself, grow and be better.

I am genuinely concerned for his mental health - situations like this before have resulted in suicide (Caroline Flack springs to mind). His physical safety is also in danger. For the actions of someone else, years before they met. Please, stop this. Please see that you are making the world so, so much worse, and you could actually kill someone through this. Please exit the twitter echo chamber and think maturely and critically about whether your response is proportional, reasonable and necessary. Please see that he is a stranger to you, who is paid to do a job, and we have no more right to demand things from him or make him face consequences than we do our dentists or the cashier at the local shop. Please log off and go outside for a while.

[causeiwanttoandican]

Robert Lacey excerpt

I fully expect them to say William was the one commenting about the baby’s skin color after this. Battle stations! Book excerpt

The Times

Prince William ‘split his household from Prince Harry after Meghan bullying claims’

June 07 2021, 7.00am BST

‘So, are you saying,” asked Oprah Winfrey, talking to Meghan and Harry in their famous interview of March 2021, “that there were hints of jealousy?”

She was inquiring about the Sussexes’s wildly successful tour of Australia and the South Pacific of late October 2018, and the couple shifted uncomfortably in their plush wicker chairs.

“Look,” replied Harry, “I just wish that we would all learn from the past.”

By bringing up “the past”, the prince was venturing into an area that was almost taboo. He was making a sensational comparison between his mother and his wife. Harry was suggesting that Meghan had demonstrated in Australia the same massive star quality as Diana and was now having to face the family envy that went along with that.

“It really changed,” he said, “after the Australia tour, after our South Pacific tour . . . it was . . . the first time that the family got to see how incredible she is at the job. And that brought back memories.”

Memories of what? Again Harry shied away from putting words to the almost unmentionable. But Oprah had prepared and polished this moment, like so many others in the interview, and she had a reference ready to prompt her prince’s revelation. The latest, fourth season of TV’s The Crown had depicted Charles and Diana’s 1983 tour of Australia, showing how Diana had been “bedazzling” in her ability “to connect with people”. Episode six had depicted how the crowds would groan when they realised that Charles, not Diana, was walking down their side of the street — hence the beginnings of the “jealousy” on the family’s part.

“So is that what you’re talking about?” asked Oprah. “It brought back memories of that?”

“Yeah,” Harry finally replied in a fashion that was both dismal and unmistakably aggressive.

What on earth had happened, viewers had to wonder, to the old and once-familiar happy side of Prince Harry?

When trying to define the moment that marked the decisive rift with his brother William — the break-up and actual separation of the joint household they had established together in 2009 — Harry would fix upon his triumphant return with Meghan from their Australian tour at the end of October 2018. But if asked the same question, William would have fixed on a more specific event: the explosive argument he had had with his brother earlier that month.

Both brothers agreed how bitterly they had clashed back in the early days over William’s attempt to slow Harry’s courtship of Meghan — “Don’t feel like you need to rush this . . . ” But both of them had subsequently moved on. Harry’s transparent contentment with Meghan had relaxed the tensions, give or take the odd row over bridesmaids’ dresses. The “no speaks” had eased just a little by the time “best man” William escorted his brother down the aisle in May 2018.

Then five months later came the conclusive and determining rupture — the division that has lasted to the present day — though here the brothers’ retelling of history diverged. As Harry explained it to Oprah, Meghan’s Australian tour success sowed the jealousies that caused feelings to “change”. According to this scenario, William and Kate resented the Diana-like popularity that was generated by Harry’s wife. William had a different recollection.

We now know that Princes William and Harry were no longer on speaking terms before the Sussexes set off for Australia. Feelings had already “changed”, as Harry put it, and drastically so. The brothers had parted on extremely poor terms, with the trouble centring on Meghan’s stringent treatment and alleged bullying of her staff.

Most Kensington Palace courtiers were noted for the comparatively long tenures of their comfortable and prestigious jobs. But it came to look as if employees could not wait to escape service with Harry and Meghan. Those who left formed themselves into an informal fraternity that they titled the “Sussex Survivors’ Club”. They had finally hit back, and their organising agent had been PR man Jason Knauf.

The joint communications secretary for Kensington Palace — who was still, at that date, working on behalf of both of the brothers and their wives — had become concerned by the numerous stories of mistreatment being brought to him by colleagues whom he knew well and trusted.

Texas-born and New Zealand-educated, Knauf, 34, was a popular character in Kensington Palace, widely noted for his friendliness and loyalty towards his colleagues. He had been considered a real “catch” when the brothers snared him from the Royal Bank of Scotland in 2015, and one of his concerns was that professional management practices should be more effectively enforced inside the traditional British palace. Knauf’s American sensibilities caused him to see the Meghan situation as raising principles of human resources management in the palace system that needed to be formally addressed.

Knauf’s first priority was to set down the facts, as he saw them, for the record: “I’m very concerned,” he emailed to William’s private secretary Simon Case, in a document he drafted in October 2018, “that the duchess was able to bully two PAs out of the household in the past year.”

Knauf described Meghan’s treatment of one aide as “totally unacceptable . . . the duchess seems intent”, he wrote, “on always having someone in her sights”. Specifying another staff member, Knauf alleged Meghan had been bullying her as well, “seeking to undermine her confidence”. His office had received “report after report”, he wrote, from people who had witnessed “unacceptable behaviour” by Meghan towards this member of staff.

“Meghan governed by fear,” claimed one courtier. “So many people said it. Nothing was ever good enough for her. [She] humiliated staff in meetings, [would] shout at them, [would] cut them off email chains — and then demand to know why they hadn’t done anything.”

As early as 2017, around the time of the couple’s engagement, according to a subsequent report in The Times, a senior aide had spoken to the couple about the difficulties caused by their treatment of staff. “It’s not my job to coddle people,” Meghan was said to have replied.

“Americans can be much more direct,” wrote the authors Omid Scobie and Carolyn Durand in defence of the duchess, “and that often doesn’t sit well in the much more refined institution of the monarchy.”

A Brit might have raised an eyebrow at Meghan’s alleged behaviour, then looked the other way. The Yank decided to act. Knauf was actually one of Meghan’s most senior advisers — her chief adviser, in fact, when it came to public relations. Earlier that year she had gone to Knauf for help when drafting the disputed letter of severance that she sent to her father. She valued his PR expertise.

Before that, Knauf had helped Harry to word the fierce anti-media statements that he had framed to try to protect Meghan from press harassment, both as his girlfriend and then as his fiancée. The PR man had taken considerable stick from some of his non-royal contacts who criticised him as being overprotective in fighting the newcomer’s corner. Like so many people in all the palaces, Knauf had started off on Meghan’s side.

But as the months went by the American’s feelings became more ambiguous, as numerous colleagues — women whom he greatly respected — continued to bring him stories of what they said they had suffered at Meghan’s hands.

“I can’t stop shaking,” one aide had told a colleague in anticipation of an encounter with Meghan. Another reported that the prospect of confrontation with the duchess had made her “feel sick”. “Emotional cruelty and manipulation”, were the words of a third, “which I guess could also be called bullying.”

The b-word featured prominently in the accounts of several, along with an even more sinister set of initials: PTSD. Post-traumatic stress disorder was a deeply serious condition to allege — flashbacks, nightmares and feelings of deep anxiety — but that was how one complainant said that they had felt.

Several people maintained they had been “humiliated” by the duchess, and that criticism extended to Harry as well.

“I overheard a conversation between Harry and one of his top aides,” recalled one Kensington Palace courtier. “Harry was screaming and screaming down the phone. Team Sussex was a really toxic environment. People shouting and screaming in each other’s faces.”

Shouting and screaming? PTSD? Making people feel sick? Prince William went ballistic when he heard the “dossier of distress” that Knauf had gathered. We do not know whether the communications secretary brought his allegations directly to his boss or submitted them via Simon Case. What we do know is that the prince was astonished and horrified. He was instantly furious at what he heard.

“I remember Christian Jones [William’s press secretary and later private secretary] explaining to me how the Cams [the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge] are paternalistic with their staff,” recalls one royal correspondent. “They copy the Queen in that respect with all her Christmas parties and Christmas presents to her people. They’re proud to treat their staff like family. They recognise that they don’t get paid loads of money, so they are just really nice to them. So this was a very deep clash of philosophies, with Meghan being used to a Hollywood service culture — getting exactly what she wanted whenever she wanted in that famous way that Harry said.”

William personally knew and liked all the individuals whom Knauf had named in his dossier. The prince regarded them as assets to his household — colleagues to be cherished and for whom he was responsible. Human beings. Like Knauf, the prince was appalled that his respected staff may have been put in this position.

For William, Knauf’s allegations also clarified something that the prince had long believed — that Meghan was fundamentally hostile towards the royal system, which she failed to understand as an outsider. William wondered if she had not wanted to leave from the very start — even dreaming, perhaps, that she could whisk Harry back with her to North America.

But Meghan’s lawyers and PR representatives said this was quite the wrong interpretation of their client’s thinking and behaviour in a statement that they issued to The Times early in March 2021. They denied all allegations of bullying as inaccurate and the product of what they described as a “smear campaign”. The duchess wished to fit in and be accepted, they insisted. She had left her life in North America to commit herself to her new role.

I have never met Jason Knauf. What you have just read is based upon the published accusations that Knauf set down on paper — refuted as “defamatory”, it must be stressed again, and “based on misleading and harmful information” in the view of the Duchess of Sussex’s lawyers. It also relies upon William’s personal account of these events to one of his friends who then spoke to this author.

The moment the prince heard the bullying allegations, he related to this friend, he got straight on the phone to talk to Harry — and when Harry flared up in furious defence of his wife, the elder brother persisted. Harry shut off his phone angrily, so William went to speak to him personally. The prince was horrified by what he had just been told about Meghan’s alleged behaviour, and he wanted to hear what Harry had to say.

The showdown between the two siblings was fierce and bitter. William’s pre-engagement questioning of Meghan’s suitability had been quite reasonable, in William’s opinion. His fraternal doubts had been provisional, based upon how the new recruit appeared to be. The elder brother did not really know Meghan in those early days.

But now William had seen enough of his sister-in-law to feel sure that, sadly, he did know her and that many of his reservations linked unhappily with what Knauf’s colleagues had alleged. William believed Meghan was following a plan — “agenda” was the word he used to his friend — and the accusations he had just heard were alarming. Kate, he said, had been wary of her from the start.

Meghan was undermining some precious principles of the monarchy, if she really was treating her staff in this way, and William was upset that she seemed to be stealing his beloved brother away from him. Later courtiers would coin a hashtag — #freeHarry. It was only half a joke.

“Meghan portrayed herself as the victim,” recalled one Kensington Palace staffer, “but she was the bully. People felt run over by her. They didn’t know how to handle this woman. They thought she was a complete narcissist and sociopath — basically unhinged. Which was why the pair of them were drawn to each other in the first place — both damaged goods.”

William felt deeply wounded. “Hurt” and “betrayed” were the two feelings that he described to his friend. The elder brother had always felt so protective. He had seen it as his job to look out for Harry but this was the moment the protection had to stop. At the end of the day the British crown and all it stood for with its ancient traditions, styles and values — the mission of the monarchy — had to matter more to William than his brother did.

Harry, for his part, was equally furious that William should give credence to the accusations against Meghan, and he was fiercely combative in his wife’s defence. Some sources maintain that in the heat of the argument Harry actually accused someone in the family of concepts that were “racist”. But it must be stressed that neither brother has ever confirmed that the hateful r-word was used face to face.

Only William and Harry can know what they said to each other and they have respectfully maintained their silence on that. But Harry made clear to the world in his interview with Oprah that he considered his family’s response to Meghan to have been essentially racist — using the heavily freighted code words “unconscious bias” to provide an intellectual framework for his analysis.

Where could the two brothers go after such painful and damning notions had been thrown into their debate?

We have reached the crux of the drama. What painfully unforgettable and surely unforgivable things have been said? These are not passing differences. They are two core sets of values in conflict — love versus duty — going to the very heart and deriving from the deepest beliefs and loyalties of each man. Two opposing identities butting heads. In the months following the tragic and not-obviously bridgeable rift of October 2018 between William and Harry, the younger brother solidified his belief that his family were suffering from “unconscious bias”.

William, for his part, felt just as strongly about Meghan and the need for her subversive “agenda” to be removed from the operations of the British monarchy, which she did not appear to understand or respect. He certainly wanted Meghan removed, for a start, from the hitherto harmonious joint household that he and his brother had operated together for the best part of a decade. William simply did not want her or Harry around any more.

When accounts of the rift started seeping out through the winter months that followed, it was generally assumed that the volatile Harry must have set the pace in the splitting up of the joint Kensington Palace household. He was the brother who visibly departed, stalking off to set up a new home in Windsor, with offices for himself and Meghan in Buckingham Palace.

But the reverse was the case. It was William who made the decisive move. Following his furious confrontation with his younger brother in the autumn of 2018, the prince instructed Simon Case to start the process of dividing their two households immediately. William wished to be separated from Meghan on a day-to-day basis — and that meant being separated from his brother as well.

“William,” says a friend, “threw Harry out.”

©Robert Lacey 2021 Extracted from Battle of Brothers: William, Harry and the Inside Story of a Family in Tumult by Robert Lacey, to be published by William Collins on June 24 at £9.99

[goldentournesol]

Not in That Way

*gif not mine, found on Giphy*

(Spencer Reid x fem!Reader)

The one where Spencer’s TA falls in love with him.

Length: 3.3k

A/N: VAGUE SPOILERS FOR S15 AHEAD! AGE GAP (10 years). Read at your own risk everybody, very angsty. NO PART TWO’S WILL BE WRITTEN. enjoy :)

masterlist

It wasn’t hard, really. It wasn’t hard at all to fall in love with Spencer Reid. In fact, it was the easiest thing she’d ever done. It came so easily that it shook her to the core.

Really, what’s not to love? He is a badass FBI agent with a heart of gold, he can literally recite almost any book to her on demand, and it certainly doesn’t hurt that he looks like he’s been sculpted by a coveted artist.

She didn’t know though, she didn’t know how easy it would be to be completely enamored by someone. She didn’t know what kind of life she’d be stepping into when she’d applied to become his Teaching Assistant. She’d heard from her peers that there was a part-time professor who had been looking for a TA. She signed up without a second thought, desperate for any kind of connections that could possibly help her with her PhD in forensic psychology. When she’d learned that he was a certified genius whose other job was to be a real life superhero, she hoped and prayed he’d pick her application.

She was over the moon when she found out that he did indeed pick her out of all the students who had applied. This was an opportunity of a lifetime. She’d seen his university ID photo on the website and thought he was attractive, but seeing him in person was almost magical. The camera definitely could not quite pick up on the subtle gold flecks in his irises or the silky sheen of his hair. And that smile. She was sure she could drown in it forever.

After being chosen and going through a number of interviews, Y/N learned just how meticulous Dr. Reid was in everything he did. She helped him create the syllabus as well as build his lesson plans. Over the semester, she would go over his grading since he had the tendency to give students the answers instead of making helpful comments on the papers to make them think and reflect. She’d also learned about his particular aversion to technology, which meant they had multiple meet-ups when he was in town just so she can walk him through certain systems, like the university’s portal system as well as the email. She also showed him how to pose his answers as questions instead, explaining that sometimes, he shouldn’t answer their incomplete thoughts because it's an undergrad class. Also, with his unpredictable schedule concerning the FBI, she would often step in and teach his class whenever he was away on a case.

They’d become good friends outside of his office and classroom, probably closer than they should have been. He was just too likeable and she was always eager enough to hear what he had to say, thus a bond between them was born and reinforced each time they saw each other. He was so thoughtful, it shocked her. Once he’d heard her mention that she used to love collecting keychains when she was a child, and made sure to get her a new one from each state he’d visit thanks to his trips around the country. Her previous boyfriends were beyond disappointing in comparison to say the least, and they weren’t even dating. He knew her favorite coffee order by heart and often had it ready with a fresh croissant whenever they met at the university’s coffee shop and if they were meeting at his office, he’d take them to go. 

It was little things like that that made her fall in love with him. And she knew, it’s not like she didn’t, she just chose to hide it with every cell of her being. Crushing on your professor is pretty common amongst university students, but being a TA and being desperately in love with your professor was a whole different kind of story. 

She already admired his intelligence in class immensely, however hearing his stories from his time out in the field made her heart grow three times the size of normal. His stories ranged from being about geographical profiling, to action-packed anecdotes, and even funny moments with the team.

Was she constantly impressed by him? Yes.

Was she constantly worried about him? Also yes.

Which is why she’d practically made him adopt the habit of texting or calling her every time he landed in DC. They’d been chasing this unsub, Lynch, for months on end and he’d informed her that they were finally close to getting him. The last time they talked two days ago, he was feeling confident. But then it was just silence. He hadn’t texted her, he hadn’t called her. She didn’t even know if he was back in DC. Her mind took her places she didn’t want to go. He’d gotten so good with keeping her updated that this silence was turning her blood into ice water.

She’d left 11 missed calls so far. But she didn’t give up, she was determined to hear from him. The next morning she tried again, holding her breath and squeezing her eyes shut in a silent prayer.

“Hello?” Someone finally picked up, a woman.

“Hello? Who is this? I’m trying to reach Spencer Reid.” Y/N said into the phone, voice clearly on the edge of tears.

“Oh you must be Y/N Y/L/N. You’re Spencer’s TA. I’m Penelope Garcia, I work with Spencer.” She said into the phone evenly, calmly.

“Yes, I am. Did something happen to Spencer? He hasn’t contacted me in two days. Why do you have his phone?” Y/N worried into the phone. She could hear every heartbeat, loud and clear.

“Spencer is in the hospital. There was an explosion yesterday and he hit his head really hard. We found him passed out in his apartment this morning.” Penelope answered. Y/N’s eyes widened and she felt the tears slip from her eyes quickly. The panic began to set in.

“C-could you please text me the address?” Y/N managed to whisper into the phone through her tears.

“Of course, sweetie. He’s going to be okay. His mother is here, I’m assuming you know about Diana?” She asked tenderly.

“Yes, yes, I know. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Y/N said, already rushing to put on shoes and looking for her keys.

The drive to the hospital wasn’t long, but Y/N felt like it took ages to get there anyway. Her breathing was uneven and her eyes were already swollen as if she’d been crying for days. There was a bad, bad feeling reverberating around in her chest. She’d somehow floated through the hospital like she was running on autopilot. 

She’d found the room and met eyes with a blonde woman adorning two identical blue puffs in her hair. She would have thought they were adorable if she wasn’t panicking her heart out. She spotted Spencer laying on the hospital bed with oxygen tubes hanging around his ears and inserted into his nose. The sight made her stomach lurch. Something about the way his usually pink lips were drained of their color made her want to sob until tomorrow came. Beside the bed on the other side sat Diana Reid, a tall woman with short blonde hair. She’d seen her in photos before. Diana merely stared at her with a hint of a smile.

She stepped in the hospital room, swallowing down the bile in her throat, “H-Hi, I’m Y/N.” She waved tentatively into the room, almost unable to keep with the tensity of the two women’s gazes. She wiped at her eyes and stood at the foot of Spencer’s bed, “Is he going to be okay?” She asked, staring at the steady rise and fall of Spencer’s chest. That way it was reassuring to watch him. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she stood.

“The doctors are hopeful.” Penelope replied, assessing the young woman who just entered. She was much younger than she previously thought she was. Although she had no idea what to expect when it came to Spencer’s academic life, he was always surprising her.

Diana sat still and silent in the hospital chair, a pensive expression draped across her features. Penelope sensed a tension in the room and looked towards Diana, “Hey, Diana, would you like to come with me down to the cafeteria to fetch some jello for Spencer to eat when he wakes up?”

Y/N sent Penelope a sidelong glance filled with gratitude. She tuned out the sounds of Diana telling Penelope the story of the first time Spencer had jello as they exited the small room. She immediately pulled up the chair closest to his bed and grasped his hand tightly. She let out a shaky breath at the contact. Cold, his hand was so, so cold.

“Oh, Spencer, you scared the shit out of me.” She whispered, pressing her lips to the back of his hand quickly, “I could have lost you today...and-and I wouldn’t have known what to do with myself if that would have happened. I know you probably can’t hear me, but I still have to say what I’m going to say. I have to. For myself. So here goes,” she pauses, taking a deep breath, “there’s nothing that scares me more than losing you, and that thought alone terrifies me.” She sniffled, wiping away her tears, “What I feel for you terrifies me, Spencer. I didn’t know I was capable of loving someone so deeply until I met you. And...I don’t know what to do with all this love, I want to hand it all to you, let you see yourself the way I see you, but I can’t do that. I can’t.” She held back an incoming sob, whispering, “I can’t ask that of you.” 

She bowed her head and rested it along his forearm, her silent tears soaking through the hospital sheets. The fear of grieving for him outweighed the fear of rejection. She’d never forgive herself if he died without knowing how big of a space he occupied in her heart. She didn’t know if she was brave enough to tell him to his face while he was awake, but this was a start. Solidifying her feelings was a start. And man, were they solid.

A few minutes later, her phone began to ring because of an endless stream of emails. There was a class today, and she’d have to teach it. She went back and forth from her phone to Spencer’s face and released a deep, heavy sigh from the pit of her chest. She stood from her seat and hovered her hand over his cheek before allowing it to rest timidly on his skin.

“I have to go, but I’ll see you soon.” She paused, chewing on her lip, “I love you.” She said softly, fresh tears making their way back to the brim of her eyes. She pulled away from him and exited the room swiftly. 

Spencer’s bleary eyes opened slightly to just barely catch the sight of her disappearing into the hallway from which she came. Seconds later, Penelope and his mother came marching in, seeing his open eyes.

Penelope set down the cups of jello nearby and Diana made her way to her son quickly. He could barely keep his eyes open for long enough. It was a small achievement but they both held onto it dearly. 

Hours later, he blinked his eyes open again as he heard his mother and Penelope conversing about his favorite type of cloud. Diana leaned over her son’s bed and set a comforting hand on his shoulder. He stared at her fondly.

“Am I alive or is this heaven?” He asked, smiling slightly.

“You are very much alive.” Diana smiled broadly at him.

Garcia had since gone back to the office to assist the team in finally closing the Lynch case. Spencer was just waking up from yet another snooze. 

Diana looked at him closely, sometimes he felt she was the profiler in the room, “She told you didn’t she?”

Spencer rubbed at his eyes slightly, “Who are you talking about?” He yawned.

“The pretty girl who was in here earlier.” Y/N’s name had slipped her mind the second she said it. Spencer stared at his mother incredulously, shocked at just how clear her mind was at the moment. Diana took his silence as an affirmative and nodded at him.

“You should tell her.” She said definitively. For a moment, he doubted if he understood just what she meant, but he understood.

“How did you know?” Spencer asked curiously.

“I told you, a mother always knows. And I saw the way she looked at you. She deserves to know, Spencer.” Diana said.

She deserves to know.

The thought tumbled around in his head for days after he was discharged from the hospital. He was on medical leave for the moment but as soon as he could see straight, he took the train to her apartment. He’d been there a few times, they’d had a few casual dinners there while grading papers together or coming up with future lesson plans. His hands were on the verge of trembling as he knocked on her apartment door. The numbers nailed on the door mocked him as he stood waiting for her to open.

She frowned at the sound, she wasn’t expecting anybody. She pushed her laptop to the side and stood to straighten her pajamas, making her way to the door. She ripped it open as soon as she saw who it was.

“Spencer! Oh thank goodness you’re okay! I’ve been worried sick about you.” She threw her arms around his middle tightly, making him stagger a bit from the impact, but he enveloped her in his arms anyway. The contact was very welcome.

“Hey.” He smiled into the hug, his heart spilling with gratitude over being worthy enough of her attention. They separated from the embrace and she stared at him with a look resembling wonder.

“What are you doing here? I thought you still had a few more days off until you had to get back to work. Come in, come in.” She moved aside to let him in. She also moved a plethora of blankets and textbooks off the couch to make space for him to sit.

“I know, I’m sorry for kind of coming over unannounced. I didn’t mean to intrude or anything.” He eyed her matching set of cartoon character pajamas as he took a seat, making a mental note that it was the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. She blushed under his gaze but shook her head nonetheless.

“Oh come on, you know you’re always welcome here. Can I get you something to drink? Some water or coffee, maybe?” She asked.

“Water’s fine.” He smiled, leaning back into the couch. She nodded and made her way into the kitchen. Spencer’s shoulders untensed for a moment and he hadn’t realized that he’d been carrying so much of his worries in them around her. She came back with the water and took a seat next to him, angling her body to face him. He muttered a thank you as he sipped from it, unsure how to approach the situation.

“I wanted to thank you. For coming to the hospital to see me. That meant a lot.” He met her eyes and saw a flash of panic dance across her irises. How did he know she was there? Penelope probably told him, right? He couldn’t have heard her.

“Of course, Spencer. It’s the least I could do.” She smiled sweetly. His heart cleaved in his chest as he stared at the sweet girl in front of him. 

What did he ever do to deserve her friendship? 

He fidgeted with the glass in his hands, a silence beginning to drape over them.

“Is everything okay?” She asked, noticing his fidgeting. 

He took a deep breath and set the glass down on the coffee table in front of them. He turned his body to face her and reached for her soft hands. Her breath hitched at the intimate contact, butterflies erupting in the pit of her abdomen.

“You are a remarkable person, Y/N. I’m so lucky to have you in my life. I see the absolute worst that humanity has to offer on a daily basis, but you have made it your mission to make my life easier. And you do, honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” He said with soft eyes and a half-laugh. She smiled back, she could practically feel the rush from his words directly in her brain.

“And it is an honor to be loved by you,” his voice hesitated to say the word, his eyes darkening with regret as he continued. Realization snapped into place for her as he said, “but I can’t give you what you need.”

He had heard her. He knew.

Her blood ran cold as she tore her hands away from his, as if the skin on his hands had the ability to burn her. He frowned as he watched her frantic eyes search his for any semblance of dishonesty. Her throat closed up over all the words that fought to surface. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came up. Instead, tears sprung to the corners of her eyes.

“What?” She whispered, brokenhearted and momentarily in disbelief.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He tried to console her but she was past the point of consolation. 

“I-I understand.” She nodded painfully, tears cascading down her face before she even got the chance to wipe them away, “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s completely unprofessional.” She swallowed an incoming sob as best as she could.

“No, I’m glad you told me, but if I’m being honest, I knew long before it. This isn’t about professionality, I don’t care about that. But I care about you, a lot.” Spencer said softly, staring at the young woman in front of him. She shook her head, utterly devastated and doing her best to shield herself from his gaze. Thoughts escaped her as her heart took a deep-dive to settle in her abdomen.

“And I thought I should let you know how I feel. I love you, Y/N,” he paused, “just not in that way.” The soft voice he used was completely useless against the harshness of the words. 

She tried, she tried her absolute hardest to suppress the incoming sob, but those words just about broke the dam. She rubbed at her eyes, nodding. He tried to set a comforting hand on her shoulder but decided against it. She took a deep breath and stood up from the couch. 

That was enough humiliation for the day.

“No, no, I completely understand.” She said, voice wobbly and eyes ringed with red. He frowned up at her at the sight of her being so upset. 

“Will you be okay?” He asked as he stood up from his seat. She laughed slightly, this man had devastated her, broken her heart with a few simple words and still wondered if she’d be okay. That’s Spencer Reid for you. The question made her heart ache and long for him more. His simplicity and good intentions made her question why the world wasn’t kind enough to let her have him.

“No, I won’t. And I probably won’t be okay for a long time. Because I will keep meeting men and keep comparing them to you so, until I stop doing that, no, I won’t be okay, Spencer.” She answered with a surprisingly stable voice. He frowned and nodded.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, stepping forward to cup her cheek and gently use his thumb to wipe the remainder of her tears. Her glassy eyes bored right into his, her lips wobbling at the contact. She then closed her eyes and leaned her cheek into his palm, soaking in his warmth one last time before he tore himself away from her completely and showed himself out of the apartment without looking back.

That was when she allowed herself to fall apart. He heard her heart wrenching cries from behind the door and hesitated, but decided to walk away anyway with a chest heavy with regret.

She will never be enough for him, she thought.

He will never be enough for her, he thought.

[phati-sari]

Arshi FF: Tere Bin - Chapter 8

Read from the beginning | Chapter 7

Chapter 8: Ranjha (listen while reading)

Khushi

“What was he doing here?”

Khushi answered without turning, her head resting on the window sill as she studied the moon. “I don’t know.”

It’d taken a long time to escape to the room she shared with her sister after they’d first stepped through the doors. First, Amma had asked about the hospital visit, making Khushi recite everything the Doctor Sahib had said while Bua-ji interrupted often to ask questions. Babu-ji had soon taken over, asking to see the paperwork Khushi had collected and asking a few questions of his own. Still full from the gol gappe, Khushi had nibbled on some puri under Jiji’s watchful gaze while the family considered the payment plan the clinic had laid out.

Luckily, no one had asked exactly how she’d gotten home.

“You were in his car, Khushi.” Jiji came to stand next to her, her tone coloured with disapproval.

“The auto broke down. He was driving past.”

“He, of all the people in Lucknow and Delhi, just happened to be driving by? At the exact moment your auto broke down?”

An odd defensiveness flared in her chest, words popping out of her mouth before she’d thought them through.

“What can I say, Jiji? My phone’s battery was dead, it was dark. He offered to drop me home.”

Jiji reached out to touch her shoulder. “Did he fight with you again?”

No, he bought me gol gappe.

“No more than usual,” Khushi tried to smile at her sister. “I’m fine. Really. He drove me home. That’s all.”

Though she looked unconvinced, Jiji stepped away with a nod to ready herself for bed. Khushi waited until she was alone to snatch her bag from where it hung on a hook. Her searching fingers found the business card he’d offered.

“Well, it’s just that you like arguing so much, and we argue so often … I think we should keep in touch.”

At the time, she’d been so startled that she’d simply taken the card and slid from the car without answering. Jiji, fortunately, had been too busy scowling at him through the windows to notice as she’d slipped it into her bag.

The card was thick, the surface almost velvety to the touch. It sported a bright red logo in the top corner and announced his name in crisp black letters — ARNAV SINGH RAIZADA. Khushi shook her head to clear the unbidden memory of correcting his name on hundreds of letters.

The writing on the card included a number she recognised for the reception desk at the head offices and an email address that his managers monitored. But he’d scrawled another number untidily along one side with a black pen.

His personal number, Khushi realised with a jolt.

It felt strangely intimate, though logic reminded her that she’d had the same number saved in her phone before he’d broken it on the storeroom floor.

Why is he still in Lucknow?

On the heels of this thought came another: Why should I care?!

Her mind was suddenly awhirl with memories — raised voices and shouted words, a fall from his window, the broken door to the storeroom. His airs about money and power. The terror of the guesthouse.

Khushi ripped the business card in half, her breath coming in rapid pants, and then tore it into even smaller pieces. Tears stung in her eyes. She scrunched the pieces into her palm as Jiji returned to the room.

“Make sure you wake up early tomorrow,” her sister draped her towel near the window. “We’re going to the temple.”

“Okay.”

Waiting until Jiji was occupied with something in the cupboard, Khushi returned the ruined card to her bag. In the bathroom, she brushed her teeth and washed her face before studying her reflection. Her pulse was a chaotic drumbeat in her body, her thoughts a wild tangle. And underneath it all was something that thrilled and scared her at the same time, something that had followed her to Lucknow.

                                    #####

“Everything leads back to him,” Jiji had groaned, rolling on her side on the bed they shared. “Just go to sleep quietly.”

It had been a week since they’d returned to Lucknow, and Khushi had been comparing the price of potatoes between Lucknow and Delhi. Or at least, that was how the conversation had started. She couldn’t remember how they’d gotten to talking about that Laad Governor.

“You’re right Jiji. We’re in Lucknow now and we’ll soon forget that we ever went to Delhi. Or that we met such cruel, haughty people. Although … Anjali-ji had such sweetness in her. It’s a shame that we had to leave without saying goodbye to her. At least we met one nice person in Delhi. Oh … and Nani-ji. Maybe two nice people. And Aakash-ji, I suppose, though —”

“— Khushi! Are you going to count out every member of his family? Your mind is like a compass that’s always stuck on him!”

“And why wouldn’t it be?” Khushi had asked hotly. “He sent me there to do some meaningless task, knowing the place was about to collapse.”

“I know. You’ll never have to see him again, Khushi. You resigned from that awful job, you gave him an earful, and now you’re here and he’s there.”

The words should have elated her, but they only left her feeling strangely hollow.

                                    #####

That hollowness sat heavily inside her as Khushi joined her sister in their bed a few minutes later, sliding between the covers with a sigh.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jiji’s voice was soft in the dimness.

“Yes.”

“You barely ate dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

A short silence, in which Khushi’s mind unhelpfully replayed the way she’d fallen into his arms yet again.

Oh Devi Maiyya, couldn’t you find another place to make me slip? You mustn’t have liked the offering I left you this morning.

“I’m glad we came back to Babu-ji,” Jiji said softly. “I can’t imagine being away from home at a time like this.”

“The doctors said that as long as he rests properly and takes his medicines, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“He isn’t resting nearly enough, even with both of us at the shop.”

Khushi nodded her agreement, “He’s worried about the bills.”

“Bua-ji and Amma are talking about selling some jewellery. I thought I’d give them my bangles.”

“I have bangles we can sell too.”

It took a while for Jiji’s breathing to fall into the deep, slow rhythm of sleep. Khushi lay awake, her thoughts chasing each other in ever-tightening spirals.

The night of the photoshoot. The softness of her pallu as it slipped. The scorch of his gaze as it roved over her body and left her feeling singed. The electricity between them on Teej, every touch a bolt of lightning. The weight of him pressing into her in the storeroom.

She flushed, skin prickling and warmth blooming in secret places.

Stop it, Khushi. A handful of gol gappe is all it takes for you to forget his cruelty?

She turned onto her side with a huff. Sometimes it felt as though her life had been split into Before and After, as though falling at the fashion show had created an entirely new Khushi Kumari Gupta. A Khushi who was strangely compelled towards him, a Khushi who’d come dangerously close to swooning in his arms today. A Khushi who wanted something she had no name for.

“I didn’t know the situation at the guesthouse was that bad!”

“Do you really think I would’ve sent you there if I’d known? Is that what you think of me?”

For the first time, she allowed herself to entertain the idea that he hadn’t sent her there on purpose.

So what if he hadn’t? I was still trapped there for an entire day. He was wrong.

But the thought was impossible to dislodge now that it’d wormed into her mind. Having assumed he’d wanted to argue every time he’d approached her, she now considered whether he might have been trying to explain. She saw their interactions in a new light. The sweets, the cheque.

Did he feel guilty? Was he trying to say sorry?

She eventually fell into an uneasy sleep, tormented in her dreams by his eyes, his voice, the memory of his touch. She woke just before dawn, breathless and damp with sweat, the sheets tangled with her legs. Flinging them off, Khushi sat up in bed. Her sister made a questioning noise.

“Sleep, Jiji. It’s not time to wake up yet.”

A nameless storm raged in her chest, making it hard to breathe. She squeezed her eyes shut.

I should hate him.

A lurch in her tummy.

But I don’t.

Padding slowly over to her bag, she fished out the pieces of the business card one by one. There was a roll of tape amongst the paper and pens scattered on the table in the corner. Khushi glanced back at her sister as she sat. It took a few minutes to line up the jagged edges, to press the tape along them with trembling fingers until she could read his name again.

He’d set down a challenge. She wouldn’t back down.

    ********

Thanks for reading :) I know some of you may be disappointed with the level of introspection in this chapter and where I chose to end it. Tere Bin is Arnav’s story, one where he has to work out what he wants and how to get it while Khushi is in Lucknow. While I intend to dip into Khushi’s point of view where the story demands it (and I feel that her presence greatly improved Chapters 6 and 7), it will focus heavily on Arnav. I am not intentionally writing something to annoy or disappoint readers. I’m trying to do something very specific with this story, and like all experiments, I’m learning as I go :) 

[guardianofrivendell]

Dwarves Always Knock Thrice

Requested: Yes and no. @estethell​ challenged me to write a modern AU with Fíli and Kíli knocking at the reader’s door instead of Bilbo’s by mistake. I interpreted it as a ‘what if Fíli and Kíli end up in modern day Europe?’

Warnings: none so far, I wrote this with a fem!reader (sorry! I try to write more gender neutral in the future, I promise)

Summary: What if one day your favorite fictional characters knock on your door? A modern AU with a twist! (any similarities to what I would do in this case are purely coincidental 😏)

A/N: Yes, yes, I know. There are hundreds of fics like this one. But none of them were written by me and my weird sense of humor 😆 Depending on the response I’ll turn this into a multichapter fic, if not this will stay a standalone oneshot. 

Humming a rather cheerful tune, you pressed the button on top of the coffee machine and your morning fuel started dripping into your favorite cup. You waited patiently until the foam reached the edge and then you turned the machine off. With the cup held between your hands, you inhaled deeply. Nothing like the smell of fresh coffee for a perfect start of the day.

A few minutes ago your boyfriend had left to go to work, only to see him again by the end of next week. He was going on a citytrip with your group of friends for a few days, which had been planned ages ago.  You were supposed to go with them, but unfortunately, you didn’t have any vacation days left. No, it was back to work for you instead. 

Not that you minded. You loved your job, and you were lucky enough to be able to work from home when you wanted to. It didn’t actually feel like work that way. At least you had decent coffee, you didn’t have to dress up and you could take a break whenever you wanted.  And now with your boyfriend gone for the week, you had no interruptions and lots of quiet evenings to look forward to. Cheers to that, you thought while you sipped at your coffee. 

The dinner table became your makeshift workplace, coffee within reach. There were no video meetings scheduled today so you were wearing your favorite pair of black leggings and a long oversized knitted sweater, with fluffy socks on your feet to complete your comfy outfit. 

You moved your computer mouse and your laptop sprung to life.  James, your Sphynx cat, hopped on the table and pushed his head in your hand, demanding cuddles.

“Another day at the office, how dreadful,” you smiled, petting him behind his ear. James purred and started to bathe himself. 

He was a Sphynx cat, so there was no fur. Nothing but flawless pink skin, soft to the touch. It almost felt like petting a warm peach. You chuckled at the comparison, and James stopped his grooming to look at you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry your Majesty. I’ll let you to it.” 

You booped his nose and got to work. 

After a day of sifting through emails, processing data and editing documents and spreadsheets, you felt utterly exhausted. A phrase your boyfriend likes to throw at you on these moments suddenly came to mind, ‘How can you be so tired when you’ve done nothing but sit down on your ass all day?’ Always the charmer.

You stood up, raised your arms above your head and stretched, groaning in the process. You froze when your stretch session was interrupted by three knocks on your front door. 

“Who still knocks these days?”

It was almost 6 pm, slowly turning dark outside and you’d let the shutters down about an hour ago. It was something you did as soon as the sun was setting. It was silly really, but it made you feel safe. 

But now it prevented you from seeing who was at your door.

The neighbours from down the street wouldn’t come by for a visit, they were the kind of people that liked to keep to themselves. Your parents would call first, so… a polite burglar perhaps?

You couldn’t be too careful these days, especially now, when you were alone, so you went to your intercom first to see who was at the door. 

The camera didn’t show anyone. You could see a part of your front yard, but that was it. Strange… You thought you could hear voices, so maybe there was someone at the door after all. Maybe someone had driven their car into the ditch. Wouldn’t be the first time. You lived in the countryside, with roads where only one car at a time could pass, with ditches on both sides. A challenge for city people, and the occasional daredevil usually had to be towed out of said ditch. 

What’s life without a little risk, you thought, and made your way to the front door. You weren’t the one to turn away from people in need. It would probably get yourself killed one day, you were too kind and gullible and people tended to take advantage of that. 

Another three knocks sounded, a little louder this time and you swung the door open. 

“Finally!”

Your boyfriend rushed inside and shot up the stairs. When you looked to your driveway, you saw his car with the lights on, the motor still running. He was running late again. As usual. 

After a few minutes he thundered down the stairs, his hiking boots in hand. 

“Almost forgot these,” he said while lifting them. He kissed your cheek and ran off.  You sighed. “See you next week, sweet. I’ll miss you.” 

Sarcasm was your way to cope, to learn how to deal with the lack of love and care. Because who were you kidding? He wouldn't miss you. 

You shuffled to your kitchen, in need of something hot. To drink, that is. And while the coffee machine filled your cup for the second time that day, you rubbed your face with your hands trying to think of how you had ended up in this situation in the first place… 

“Just try and enjoy a week by yourself,” you whispered. 

You were about to take a first sip when three knocks sounded for the third time.

“Seriously?”

When you opened the door, you couldn’t stop the massive eyeroll when you saw it was your boyfriend again. 

“Hand me the reservation papers of the hotel, will you? I forgot them and I need the address for the gps,” he said. 

“I sent it in an email to Tom, and I put the address in the gps system yesterday. Now go, you’re late enough as it is. Call me when you get there okay?”

He smiled and kissed your cheek again. 

“Bye! Enjoy your week by yourself!” “I will, don’t worry,” you smiled. 

Before you closed the door there was a bright white flash. You covered your ears on instinct, something you always did when there was a thunderstorm. 

“That was very closeby,” your boyfriend gasped. “They didn’t say anything about a thunderstorm tonight.” “I’m not sure that was lightning… there was no thunder?” “It’s probably nothing to worry about.”

And with those words your boyfriend left for the second time that night. 

After closing the front door with a small heart, you tried to calm yourself.  You were terrified of thunderstorms, and you really didn’t feel like going through one when you were on your own. Let’s just hope he was right and it was nothing, you thought. 

Your coffee…! Taking a sip from the now lukewarm drink, you pondered if you would make it into an Irish or Italian one. Heaven knows you deserved it, right?  With your coffee still in hand you made your way over to the liquor cabinet, only to be interrupted by yet another pair of knocks on the front door.

“I’m going to kill him,” you murmured while you walked into the hallway. “What could he have possibly forgotten this time?”

You swung the door open with a little too much force, but you couldn’t care less by that time. The small amount of patience you had left was already out of the window and you just wanted to enjoy your spiked coffee. 

“What did you forg-?!”

Your voice got caught in your throat when your eyes fell on your visitors. Visitors. As in plural. Definitely not your boyfriend.  You recognized them immediately, there was no doubt who they were but… it couldn’t be! This was simply impossible!

In your shock you forgot you were holding your cup of coffee and it slipped out of your hand. The cup completely shattered on the floor but you hardly noticed. 

Because right in front of you, in the light of your porch light at your very own doorstep, stood Fíli and Kíli. 

As in Fíli and Kíli, nephews to Thorin, King under the Mountain. As in Fíli and Kíli, characters from The Hobbit. Fictional characters. With a heavy emphasis on ‘fictional’. Made up by Tolkien. 

So how the hell was it possible that they were standing in front of you, alive and well?

The two Durin brothers were a bit taken aback so it seemed, because they too remained silent at first. After a few awkward seconds Kíli was the one who decided to speak up instead of his older brother. He was clutching his sword and quiver, just like he did in the movie. 

“Kíli,” he began. He was side eyeing his brother who was still staring at you, and smacked Fíli’s chest when he didn’t respond.  “What?”  “Kíli,” Kíli repeated, pointing at himself and then at his brother who finally caught on. “And Fíli.” “At your service,” they both continued, bowing deeply.

“Y/N, at yours,” you responded without a second thought.  Kíli’s face split into a wide smile.

“We’re looking for master Boggins!” “Yeah, I kind of expected you to say that,” you murmured, but they heard you. “Oh, so you’re a seer?” Kíli assumed excitedly. “No! No, I’m just… me. But there is no mister Baggins here,” you said, correcting Kíli. “Are we at the wrong house?” Fíli wondered.   “I’m afraid so.” “Well… can you help us find him?” Kíli looked at you expectantly.

You sighed. “I would but, I’m afraid it’s a little more complicated than that.”

Both of their faces fell. They were so in character, if someone was pranking you, they did one hell of a job in finding these two actors. And their costumes were spot on, from the carvings on Kíli’s bow to the colour of Fíli’s fur coat. It was scaringly accurate… They looked so much like Dean and Aidan’s version, but not quite. You didn’t know why exactly, but you had the feeling they were real. They were Fíli and Kíli, sons of Dís. 

Fíli stared at you with a confused expression. “What do you mean, my lady?”

Oh. Now, if you weren’t already a little enamored by their looks, the title he just gave you would have. You weren’t exactly used to endearments. 

Not that Fíli had meant as an endearment but you wouldn’t mind if they called you my lady for the rest of your life. It just made you grow a couple of inches. 

“I’m probably going to regret this, but… come in.”  You stepped aside so they could enter the hallway. 

The heavy boots they were wearing made scratching sounds on your tile floor and your mind immediately went to your delicate wooden floors in the rest of your house. 

You were going to sound extremely bossy and uptight but you had to think of your interior. 

“Could you both maybe take off your boots?”

The two brothers looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. 

“If you want?” Fíli asked you. 

“Please.”

You took the swords and quiver from Kíli so he had his hands free and placed them in a corner of your hallway. Fíli followed your example and added his own weapons to the pile. 

“I trust you not to attack us when we’re unarmed,” he winked at you. 

You smiled back at him, knowing all too well he still had some smaller knives hidden somewhere.  For a moment the thought of reenacting the knife scene in Mirkwood crossed your mind, but you thought better of it. He wouldn’t find it as funny as you thought it was and you’d probably lose a finger or two if you tried to take a knife from him. It was best not to challenge him. Yet. 

Once their boots were placed neatly next to their weapons, you motioned them to follow you into your living room. Your eyes drifted to the shards of your coffee mug and the spilled coffee, you needed to clean it up but it simply had to wait.

“I don’t really know how to begin explaining all this,” you said, while waving your arms around you, “but it might be a good idea if we sit down?”

You gestured towards the sitting area and both brothers took a seat on your couch.

It seemed like they didn’t know where to look first.  Their eyes wandered to your tv, surround system, laptop, aquarium, … 

Kíli whispered something in Fíli’s ear, to which the older brother shrugged his shoulders.

“Do you want to drink anything?” you suggested. “I have water, milk, beer, …”

Their eyes lit up when you mentioned the beer, so you nodded your head. 

“Beer it is, although I need to warn you. It’s Belgian beer, so it’s probably a lot stronger than what you guys are used to.”

You mentally facepalmed at your last sentence, why did you even mention that? They didn’t realize they were in a different universe, so mentioning your country would give them zero information. 

“I think we can handle it just fine,” Kíli commented with a smirk. Fíli nodded in agreement.  “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

After another look at the dwarves on your couch, you disappeared into your kitchen. You fetched two beer glasses out of the dishwasher and two bottles of beer from your fridge, before you noticed how much your hands were shaking.

Okay, Y/N, you need to calm down first… Easy to say when you have two dwarves sitting in your living room. Dwarves! And your favorite dwarves too.  How many times had you imagined this exact moment in your fantasies? In your dreams? 

Of course! That was it…!  You probably fell asleep at your laptop and you were dreaming.  But then why did it feel so real?

Maybe someone was pranking you after all? Nah, that wasn’t likely. Nobody knew you were even in the Tolkien fandom. Let alone who your favorite characters were. 

So it must be a dream... But if you were dreaming, they definitely would have been an exact copy of the movie Fíli and Kíli. As in, Dean and Aidan in costumes. The ones sitting on your couch looked slightly different, still handsome - Mahal, did they look handsome - but you would probably refer to them as discount Dean and Aidan. 

Your small mental breakdown was interrupted when Kili started to scream. 

“What is that?!”

Quickly snatching the bottles and glasses in both of your hands, you hurried back to the Durin princes. 

When you entered your living room, you were met with quite the hilarious view. Tolkien had described Fíli and Kíli as fearless and courageous, but there was nothing courageous about their behaviour right now.Fíli was sitting with his legs pulled up and Kili half on Fili’s back, pointing at James who was trying to jump on Fili’s lap. 

“That’s James, my cat.”

“That’s a cat?!” Kíli yelled. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing!” you laughed, placing the glasses and bottles on the coffee table. “He’s a sphynx cat, he’s supposed to look like that. They don’t have fur.”

You called James and he immediately ran to you, so you could pick him up. He rubbed his head against your chin and started purring, happy to get some attention. 

You crouched down before the two princes.

“Go ahead, pet him. You don’t have to be scared.” “We’re not scared,” Kíli protested, puffing out his chest.  You smirked and rolled your eyes. “Of course not.”

They were wary at first, but eventually both brothers were petting James. Before you could stop him, James jumped out of your arms on Fíli’s lap and curled up against the fur of his coat. 

Fíli froze and tried his best not to let it show that he wasn’t comfortable with this at all. Next to him, Kíli had the hardest time keeping a straight face, biting his lip in an attempt to stifle his chuckles but his shoulders were already shaking with laughter. 

You poured their beer and placed it in front of them. 

“Like I said, it’s pretty strong so small sips. Do you want me to take James away?” Fíli shook his head. “I-it’s fine!”

You took a seat on your other couch and anxiously started to rub your thighs. 

“So… like I said, I don’t really know how to explain this but I think I know what happened to you.” “Wait… did something happen to us? I don’t understand?” Kíli asked, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

Oh, right. They didn’t realise they were in a different universe right now. Maybe you should take a different approach. 

“Can you tell me what happened before you knocked on my door?”

Kíli took the two glasses and gave one to his brother before he took a gulp, humming appreciatively. 

“I like this,” he said. “And to answer your question, we traveled to the Shire and knocked on the door with the mark. And here we are!” “But… my door doesn’t have a mark?”

It was Fíli’s turn to roll his eyes. “Kee, you’re not telling the whole story. But you’re right about this,” he smiled while raising his glass, taking another sip. “This is good stuff.”

You chuckled when you saw some foam sticking to his mustache.  He raised an eyebrow at you. “What’s so funny?”

“I have enough beer in the fridge, you don’t have to save some for later,” you laughed, pointing at your own lip to get the message across. 

Fíli quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. The movement made James shift in his lap and the Dwarf went rigid again.  You decided not to say anything about it, you figured maybe Fili didn’t like cats that much. Or just James. 

“So what did Kíli leave out?” “Your door wasn’t the first one we knocked on. There was a round, green door in the Shire. And that one had the mark of Gandalf. He’s a wizard.”

You nodded. So far it went exactly like it should. Shire, green door, mark. 

“But when we knocked on it, we found ourselves in a field all of a sudden. And your house was the only one around so we figured that was where we were supposed to be. Since Gandalf is a wizard, you never know what to expect.”

Okay, that was different. It almost sounded as if they went through a portal of some sort. Like a portkey? They touched the portkey and traveled to a different universe? But portkeys weren’t part of Middle Earth, that was Harry Potter. Did they have something similar?

“You’re not in Middle Earth anymore,” you said softly. 

Both brothers stared at you with wide eyes, their beer long forgotten. Kíli looked at his older brother, and pulled at his sleeve.

“What does she mean by that?”

Fíli kept his eyes fixed on your face, searching your features to see if you were lying. If you were trying to prank them. 

“It means that you traveled between different worlds. In my world, where you’re in right now, Middle Earth is fictional. A story. It doesn't exist. Just like my world doesn’t exist where you’re from.” “I don’t believe you,” Kíli said with a frown. 

You had expected this. It’s not like you would’ve believed them if you were in their place. 

“Look around,” you tried to explain, “you can see things you recognize. The furniture, me being a human, … But you can also see things that you don’t understand. They are from this world.”

“You said Middle Earth was a story to you?” Fíli asked you.  “Yes. There are tales about Middle Earth, and Elves, Dwarves, Hobbits, the race of Men, … Orcs, wargs, goblins,” you explained, careful not to mention anything about their storyline or the one with the One Ring. “But I’ve never thought it could be real.”

They stayed silent for a few moments, letting it all sink in. 

“How… How do we get back to Middle Earth?” Fili wondered.  “I’m sorry, I really don’t know. But I’m going to help you find your way back. We’ll figure something out.” 

You played with your fingers, a telltale sign you were nervous.

“And in the meantime you can stay here... With me.”

A/N: There you go... This is the setup for a possible new multichapter fic if people are interested in it.   Just think of the two brothers in a modern day kitchen and bathroom, how the reader tries to cope with her fictional crush in her home and... how will they get back to Middle Earth? Would you be interested to read that? Let me know!  And of course let me know what you thought of this story :) 

A/N part 2: Sometimes tumblr switches paragraphs for no reason at all, if you notice this happened, send me a message! I’ll try and keep an eye on it myself, but some help is always appreciated.

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje​ @kata1803​ @artsywaterlily​ @entishramblings​ @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose​ @marvelschriss​ @kumqu4t​ @myrin1234​ @dark-angel-is-back​ @the-fandoms-georgie​ @lathalea​ @xxbyimm​ @sokkasdarling​ @katethewriter​ @aredhel-of-gondolin​ @leethology​ @thepeanutcollective @elvish-sky​

Kíli taglist: @elles-writing​ @sxperncturalimpala67​

[awarmbowlofhomemadesoup]

More Roleswap AU Part 2: Defense Attorney Miles’ Frustrating Friendship with Prosecutor Phoenix

Continuing from how Prosecutor Phoenix’s dysfunctional way of caring with people that mattered to him affects them, the one with Miles took a post of its own. 

So from what I’ve said from my other post, “Phoenix has a big heart but it's twisted from growing up from Manfred's emotional abuse of control and shame. So if Phoenix's heart is a house, the door is open but they're only allowed on the porch, looking in but blocked by Phoenix himself from ever getting inside. ”

So how does this affects Miles Edgeworth?

When child Phoenix Wright suddenly moved out without warning, young Miles and Gregory treated it as a case that needed to be investigated. They found out that Phoenix’s parent died. That Manfred von Karma, whom Gregory had called out his evidence tampering, adopted him (Gregory didn’t like this at all). That Manfred moved back to Germany with Phoenix (Gregory didn’t like this at all even more). Gregory could only hope and assure Miles that since Manfred has a daughter, Manfred had taken in Phoenix sincerely. Miles was not convinced.

Miles tried writing letters to the address that Gregory had gotten. There was no response but they knew the letters were being received. Gregory tried to write a letter to Manfred but was replied with a formal but kind of deranged “fuck around and find out and it’s none of your beeswax and you will one day get retribution for marring my perfect record” letter. Gregory kept that letter to himself in order not to worry Mile who was looking forward to them meeting again as there is a possibility that Phoenix would become a lawyer too.

If Defense Attorney Wright had ADHD with no friendship degradation mechanics, I headcanon that Miles has autism with attachment to his childhood friendship with Phoenix. 

He had tried online means of communicating years later. Phoenix doesn’t bother with facebook. Miles sent an email and got a superficial response. When he replied to that to build into it, it was ignored.

It doesn’t help at all when they met again as prosecutor and defense attorney with Gregory having been murdered and having to defend the daughter of a family friend that he had only heard of.

Prosecutor Phoenix felt anything but peace when Miles broke his perfect record. Of course, it would be the smart kid who had defended him who would defeat him. His once perfect record was the only thing that Manfred von Karma couldn’t touch of him, now Miles took that away in his idealistic righteousness of saving people who don’t deserve (funnily enough, Phoenix included himself in that). It didn’t help that Miles’ righteousness rubbed him the wrong way with how Miles had looked at him with anger and sadness and disappointment because who was he to feel? They were in a courtroom. (See Closed Off Phoenix mode)

When Will Powers got arrested, Phoenix knew that Miles is a big fan of Steel Samurai. He was going to rip Miles a new one in court with this case by getting a guilty verdict on his favorite actor. Much to Miles and Maya’s surprise, he changed his mind, not knowing it’s because Gumshoe told what happened with Dee Vasquez. (In this universe, Gumshoe had told Phoenix because despite their dysfunctional “friendship”, Prosecutor Phoenix is more approachable than Prosecutor Edgeworth)

Prosecutor Phoenix is just as surprised as them with his actions and hated himself for it. He wasn’t supposed to feel. Unlike Prosecutor Edgeworth who told Defense Attorney Wright that he doesn’t want to see him again, Prosecutor Phoenix did what von Karma would do to him: give him nothing. Defense Attorney Edeworth caught Phoenix’s eye and all Phoenix did was raised a brow and turn his back on him, little did Phoenix know, that had hurt Miles.

All Miles had wanted since Phoenix went away was to get his friend back. Maybe he had idealized the way childhood Phoenix had connected with him since it never happened again with other people his age growing up. Maybe that childhood Phoenix was gone. Logically, the best course of action was to move on, but it kinda hurt whenever he sees him.

The dynamic changed when Miles successfully defended Phoenix from murder of both cases. Phoenix was now more willing to talk to him but kept it professional. Miles who had always been socially awkward doesn’t know how to bridge the gap as much as he wanted to and as much as Maya tried to encourage him. Miles had tried to talk to Phoenix about what he had gone through because of Manfred but Phoenix would often try to keep it light. Phoenix does the 3 D’s: dodge, distract, dismiss. Any pushing further would upset the delicate balance that Miles was not confident to test.

After the Skye case, Phoenix felt he had no leg to stand on anymore. He had thought von Karma may have taught him, but all the cases he had won was through his own effort. Now, that was no longer true. Who was he anymore without the things that he used to believe in? It started to get worse when the pain and anger and grief and the nightmares that demanded to be felt came crashing down. Who was he without the constant battle with Manfred in and outside of his head? How could he?! Why had Phoenix never saw it before? He had failed people for becoming who he was. Do they even deserve...?

Phoenix was no stranger to blowing off shame and judgment. Also he worked best under high stress. So he went into Younger Beanix mode and created another identity to buy his tickets out of the country. Then when he met Miles again, intentionally made a dick move to anger him for a long time so that when Miles would hear that Phoenix left to take a sabbatical, he wouldn’t give a shit. Not to mention, Phoenix thought he didn’t deserve Miles care and he didn’t want to burden Miles with the need to save him again and again. He also blocked Franziska’s number and gave Gumshoe the wrong details of when he would leave and where just to cover his tracks. 

Miles eventually figured out when he disappeared that Phoenix had hurt him to prevent him from intervening. He was mad Phoenix at once he realized that and mad at himself for not realizing it sooner. And upset that he wasn’t enough. 

The emotional betrayal traumatized Miles when he already struggle with connecting with other people, especially when it’s Phoenix that he wanted to re-connect with the most. 

Miles Edgeworth had already closed his heart on Phoenix since then. He would’ve refused any communication with Phoenix if it wasn’t for the Engarde case. They had reached a degree of closure after but Phoenix wasn’t done with his sabbatical. 

As far as Phoenix was concerned, he wasn’t equal yet to Miles in terms of searching for the truth in the courtroom. With the best intentions, he was chasing after Miles professionally in quality. But within their friendship, some damage has been done. Phoenix still has the struggle to allow Miles and himself to be vulnerable without the need to dismiss, distract and dodge. In fact, he owed Kay, Gumshoe, Sebastian and Franziska of it too. And while Miles has partially opened his door to Phoenix again, he has to learn and trust Miles again beyond their professional partnership.

What About Trucy Gramarye?

Fortunately, Prosecutor Phoenix was in a better place by the time Trucy came around. When he was back in Japanifornia after Zak left Trucy, Phoenix sees a kid greeting him with a showman’s bravado in the face of abandonment and in the mercy strange adults. He cannot not adopt her and get her away from the mess.  

[imurasakaw]

my deductions for the current case (file. 1094-1096): the writer is the original bomber who bombed those two other hotels, but the bellboy is the one who sent out the current cipher.

it's suspicious that the writer immediately assumes the cipher left in his room is someone "pretending to be that serial bomber". firstly, civilians aren't supposed to have access to the ciphers; sera got her hands on the first one by hacking into the phone of the hotel staff who had leaked it online. so how would this writer guy even connect this random weird note with the serial bomber's ciphers? but, say that this guy saw the leak before it was removed. then, it's even stranger that he immediately assumes that this is a copycat or a prank rather than the real thing. the explanation may be that he is, in fact, the original bomber, and therefore immediately dismisses the cipher as a fake without even thinking about it.

the phone call from the "bomber" could definitely have been prerecorded. as we see, the bellboy's interjection is the only one that the caller responded to, while conan's question gets completely ignored. while it can just be the caller not wanting to answer questions, this may well be a ploy by the bellboy to give himself an alibi. if he just pretends to be imploring the bomber to stop and includes a "response" in the recording with corresponding timing, then it'll seem like the caller is someone else, calling from within the hotel.

the fact that with the two previous bombings, the hotels were both told to send their answer to the ciphers to an email address, while this time it is a phone call, is also a sign that these could be two different culprits.

when eri asks the bellboy if the layouts of sera's and the writer's rooms are the same (right panel), he responds that yes, everything is the same, even the location of the humidifier (left panel). however, the humidifier had only been moved into the room after the writer demanded it at check-in. if the bellboy truly hasn't entered the writer's room at all like he claims, them he should not be able to know that the humidifier is in the same location as in sera's room, because the humidifier is placed at an angle that's fully unable to be seen from the doorway. rookie mistake there, mr. bellboy

the writer's panic when conan nearly pressed the enter key on his keyboard might indicate something about his previous method of detonation, or it might just be a writer's panic at someone possibly messing up his draft lol (moves one image two pixels left in word doc, two dead fifteen injured seven new pages created) or, maybe the draft pulled up on his computer is a fake, and he's a fraud of an author as well as a serial bomber lol who knows

but everyone's "!" reaction mean that they probably got a clue to solving the cipher from that. something about keyboards? i've never been one for ciphers, so i'll just leave that one alone and wait for the reveal next chapter lol

these three being so cavalier and cheery about it makes me think that the bomb threat is fully fake this time, and there's no bomb at all. i can't figure out what the bellboy's motive might be though.

also...eri feels weirdly out of character this chapter, especially the beginning scenes. at this point, i can't tell if it's just the way gosho's writing has been going nowadays (sacrificing character personalities in favor of cheap comedy), or if it's actually indicative of something. also, she's not wearing her wedding ring…and one of the possible rooms they keep mentioning is room 1412…

i'm a bit [eye emoji]