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lavenderspence · 1 year ago

Text

Missing the happy hormone | S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warning: emotional reader, period mention, fluff

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Apparently Spencer Reid could make anything better - even the emotional disaster of being on your period

A/N: First, huge thank you to the cutie that sent in this request, you literally caught me while on my period so this was born. Also, here’s to my inability to write short fics, this is your only warning that i can make and will make anything long, lol. Also, my titles suck omg. And shoutout to my crazy bestie for making me a Mamma Mia girly, she rocks.

But also, happy one month to this blog! When I carved out this little space for myself a month ago I wasn’t really sure how I’d feel being back here and writing again, but so far it’s been a treat. A huge thank you for all of your support and love and thank you to my mutuals and everyone that interacted with my blog. 💕 Here’s to many more months to come!

Request: spencer x fem!reader on her period/ovulating and shes in tears all the time?? Im ovulating and have been crying for hours and keep calling my mom lmaoo he’d been so lovely and sweet I know it I can feel it in my bones

masterlist

It was a slow day at the BAU. The most exciting thing in the 6 hours Spencer had spent at work was Rossi’s invitation to dinner the following weekend.

Paperwork had piled high after their last 2 cases, so every team member was hunched over their desk, writing and revising reports. It was a never-ending cycle - finish a report, close the file, open a new one, and start all over again.

His eyes had started getting tired after four and a half hours, his hand had started cramping and he was down two pens so far, yet there was still a prominent pile on his desk.

He suspected Morgan and Emily might have pushed a file or two from theirs onto his load, seeing as he was getting done the fastest. Regardless, every few hours JJ was bringing even more to pile on top of everything that wasn’t finished, so buried in paperwork they stayed - no matter how fast he wrote or read, or how used to the load he was.

He was just thinking about getting up to prepare a fresh pot of coffee so he could function properly for a few more hours when his phone started ringing. He felt around the pockets of his suit jacket, where it sat draped on his chair, and then pulled it free.

His display showed an incoming call, a picture of you as he hugged you, hands around your middle and face almost buried into your neck, a soft smile gracing both your faces. A scenery rich with reds, browns, and yellows stood behind you, the beauty of fall was nothing short of spectacular.

The picture you’d taken last year when the team spent a weekend at Rossi’s cabin in the woods, surrounded by the beauty of landscapes and leaves, nature for miles.

He accepted the call right away, a small smile on his face.

“Hey sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, if a little raspy from misuse. He hadn’t talked much in the last few hours - just a distracted short answer here or a hum there. He was happy you were calling, though, welcoming the reprieve from the most recent report.

It was silent for a few seconds, and he wondered absentmindedly if maybe you hadn’t called him on accident, and then there came a tiny little sniffle from your side.

“Sweetheart?” He prompted, “Are you there? What’s going on?” Worry was starting to creep into the base of his spine, but he still remained calm and kept his voice gentle.

“I’m here. Hi.” Another small sniffle, “All’s good. Just…I was just wondering how much longer you’d be gone.” Your voice was small,like you thought you might upset him by asking, and a little crackly, like you yourself were upset about something.

His eyebrows furrowed, and he checked the time quickly - 3:57 pm.

“Probably about two more hours, there’s a lot of paperwork we need to go through.” His eyes met Emily’s as she sent him a curious, questioning look.

“Oh, okay.” The resignation was clear in your voice, “I’ll see you later then.” The call ended abruptly, and it took him a second to catch up.

He couldn’t help but feel like not everything was as good as you claimed it was. For one, you rarely called to ask when he’d be home - you knew his work could span into the late hours, or even stretch for days. You let him update you on any changes in his work schedule.

In your interactions, your voice was usually upbeat and teasing - especially on the phone. Your kindness was always evident in your voice, as was your mood. You were a sunshine person, if he ever met one, that’s probably why you and Penelope formed such a close bond upon meeting.

There was something that nagged him - a change in your mood he could pick up on just by your voice - too low, too small, and the cracks that he could now identify as he replayed your conversation in his head. You were keeping yourself from crying out, and yet there was nothing more apparent than the tears in your voice. And that made him worry.

“Reid, are you okay?” Emily’s voice snapped him from the hard stare he’d been giving his phone in the last several minutes since the call ended.

“I…I don’t know.” His eye twitched, and he cleared his throat before he tried and failed to articulate exactly what was happening - he himself had a hard time understanding. One thing he knew was that he needed to get home. “I..um, I need to go. Can you, please?” He asked, gusting at the remaining three files on his desk before he pulled his suit jacket on and grabbed his satchel.

Morgan and Emily shared a mildly concerned look before they both nodded their heads, “Yeah, go. Text to let us know if everything is okay.” Morgan reminded him before he exited the bullpen with a fast step and tried to keep calm.

He was aware the situation wasn’t anything that he needed to be incredibly worried over - if something was really wrong, he knew you would have let him know. Yet, he couldn’t help the way his heart constricted by the sound of your voice, or the overwhelming desire to come home and gently hold you, see what could have caused this behavior.

You were curled up on the couch, watching as Donna helped Sophie get ready for her wedding, the gentle melody of “Slipping through my fingers” filling the empty apartment. Your eyes were watering, to the point that everything was starting to get blurry. A shaky exhale left your lips.

Today has simply been a rollercoaster. Kissing Spencer goodbye this morning was the highlight of the day. What followed was nothing short of an emotional disaster.

You’d teared up during breakfast, images of picking berries with Spencer flying through your mind. The desire to make it a reality was strong.

Following that had come the overwhelming urge to bawl your eyes out, for no apparent reason whatsoever. Just cry and cry until you had it all emptied out and you could take a deep breath and continue with your day. So, cry you did, and then you’d finished with your chores for the day.

Apparently letting it all out and emptying your tear supply hadn’t happened. Seeing as around 3:30 you’d started missing your boyfriend so much, the need to hear his voice had won out, so you’d called him. You felt the need to have him home to hold you because this month’s visit from mother flow was making you feel like a crybaby.

But then there was disappointment at the notion that you needed to wait close to 3 hours before that could happen. So you quickly ended the call before he could pick up on the tone of your voice, and then you shed a few tears.

Now here you were, rewatching Mamma Mia because you really needed a pick me up, and once again, eyes shining as the tears started falling. At this point, it was a losing battle, so you let them fall, humming to the song with a broken voice.

That’s exactly how Spencer found you, not a minute later. His keys were in his hand, the satchel on his shoulder, and he was just a little bit out of breath.

The moment his eyes met you, they softened as he dropped everything and sat down next to you. His hand reached up and he cradled the side of your face, wiping your tears away.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong?” He asked in a whisper.

“Look at Donna painting Sophie’s nails, it’s...” You hiccuped, another wave of tears washing over you. “And you’re home, why are you home?” Your question was met with a furrow in his brow, as his thumbs continued wiping underneath your eyes.

“You called.” He answered simply.

“But you said-” He stopped you before you could finish your sentence.

“I did, yes. But you sounded off and sad, so. Want to tell me what’s going on?” He prompted you gently as he pushed your hair back and pulled you into his lap after, feeling like you needed the physical contact.

You weren’t ashamed to admit it, per se, but you were ashamed that your hormones had caused him to leave work and race home to be with you.

“It’s my period,” you mumbled, hands wrapping around his neck as you hid your face in his chest, too tired to prevent your eyes from watering again. “It’s been going on all day. Randomly, I’d just get so emotional, and the tears would start. I was missing you so much too, and then hearing the song, bam, tears again. I’m so done with this Spence.” You sounded barely coherent, with your face pushed as close to him as possible.

It all made sense now, you’d been cranky a few days ago, and then you’d told him last night your cramps were unbearable, so he knew you were on your period, but right now he felt like an idiot for not figuring it out himself.

“It’s okay, everything is fine. The drop in estrogen and progesterone, following your ovulation triggered this. This in turn reduced the production of serotonin, your happy hormone. So, we just need to boost it a bit.” He whispered into your ear as you played with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“How?” You sighed into his chest, almost being able to pick up on the sound of his heartbeat.

He got deep in thought for a few seconds as you breathed in his scent, and a sense of calmness slowly overtook you now that he was home and holding you. One of his hands was running soothing circles on your back as the other held your hand, fingers interlocked.

“How about we take a trip to the store and get you some snacks? We’ll pick up dinner on the way home and then I'll hold you some more and you'll pick a movie for us to watch.” He suggested, kissing the crown of your head once, twice, and many more times until you gave him an answer.

“Yeah, yeah, I think that would help, but just having you here has done wonders.” You finally laid your head against his chest, looking up to meet his eyes. He smiled, and so did you. Having him here really had helped immensely, and when had it not? He was your other half, your rock, and even when your emotions ran rampant or you were feeling down, just his presence, his touch, and his understanding were enough to make it all okay.

Later in the evening, Penelope sent you a photo of Sergio sleep-hugging a little plushy you’d gotten him, and the waterworks started all over again. Luckily, Spencer was there, wiping your tears and kissing your head, saying a thousand things without actually speaking a word.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Requests are open for both Spencer and Hotch if you want to send any!

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic

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dcdreamblog · 2 months ago

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In honor of whatever Jewish holiday is close when you get to answering this (currently Passover), what's the deal with that Monolith guy?

This is only going to work once and it's still getting your position reset to the bottom of the answer list because it is CHEATING. I don't know the Jewish holidays but I DO know that Passover is one of, if not the most important one and considering how...well let's just say how things have been going for my Jewish friends out there on the wide interwebs I feel its important to let people know where I stand. Like the blog says, we support Jews here. Also if I do this no one is allowed to judge me for how many Yiddish words I drop into every piece I write. ANYWAY.

(A painting of the Monolith, showing it standing literal watch over Brooklyn. Not to scale) "The Monolith" is a Golem. Which...umm... Look, I'm not a Jewish mythological scholar. Jewish mysticism is a whole kettle of fish and the worst part about trying to make heads or tails of it is that a big chunk of the information offered online is from people who AREN'T Jewish trying to sell you a 12 week course on the Kabbalah to make your dick bigger or something. Assume I am taking this information directly from as trustworthy sources as I POSSIBLY can and if I say something horribly untoward then I ask that the righteous bricks through my window be limited to one. If you want to learn some Jewish history, look up Sam Aronow on Youtube and thank me later. To avoid another false start. The Monolith is a Golem, a creature formed usually out of clay and animated by Jewish mysticism to serve as guardian and protector for a local Jewish community. The most famous one is in Prague, the Golem known as the monolith was animated at some point in the mid 30s. Theories abound as to whom or why but during the weeks leading directly up to the Monolith's appearance the Brooklyn Jewish community had come under a rash of attacks from local bootleggers and mafiosos leaving many dead and multiple businesses up in flames when the community was in the depth of the Great Depression.

The Monolith was only originally active for a very short time before its prerogative to track down and halt those who would put Brooklyn's Jews and risks lead to it unleashing violent attacks on what were purported to be small time or nonviolent offenders. It vanishes from the historical record close to a year before the Crimson Avenger and the Sandman make the scene. Stories abound that just like the golems of other cities it is sealed away awaiting a time in which it is needed to defend the Jews of Brooklyn once again. It only reappears in the modern day where it is reported to have fought a demon underneath an old church near its old neighborhood, as well as teaming up with Batman to halt a series of arsonist attacks on Brooklyn's Muslims from an Islamophobic bigot calling himself The Incinerator. It also battles a creature of animated iron that people also call a Golem but I have no citation on that and helps break up a trafficking ring. It shows up for a very short time during the so called 'Battle for Bludhaven' after the dropping of Chemo decimated many of the city's lower income neighborhoods including its Jewish quarter. There it clashed with the government goon squad Freedom's Ring and assisted the modern Freedom Fighters in making sure the disaster didn't continue to spread helping to salvage the city as it still exists to this day. (Whether this is a good act depends on one's opinion on Bludhaven/s) Since then? Its most often cited around the NYCAT (New York Citizen's Assistance Team) Center in Brooklyn, a mutual assistance network for Brooklyn's lower class or homeless citizens. As is shocking to truly no one the last year or so of sightings have been it standing guard against or breaking up hamasnik mobs around synagogues, Jewish cultural centers and Hebrew schools because people DEEPLY suck. It's a hero that means a lot of things to a lot of people. Finding sources on it it was hard to not stumble into antisemetic corners who basically called it the second coming of Mongul just for existing because it will stand there for 30 minutes getting belted with bottles and only start shoving when the bottles start getting aimed at somebody else. This has been the pattern placed upon openly Jewish superheroes for the past year or more, where their every action is vilified because protecting Jewish communities is what they've always done. To that I respond the same I would respond to anyone who was complaining about an 'ethnic' superhero of any other kind: What the hell are you doing that a superhero whose purpose is to defeat threats to Jewish communities has suddenly become a problem for you? Why have you joined the same cohort as a literal demon and a terrorist lighting mosques on fire?

#dc #dcu #dc comics #dc universe #superhero #comics #tw unreality #unreality #unreality blog #ask game #ask blog #asks open #please interact #worldbuilding #monolith

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cutielando · 1 year ago

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social media au request for y/n narrating the grill the grid games and george russell is immediately in love so the rest of the boys spend their whole interviews trying to wingman george and talk about how gentlemanly he is?

also would you ever add logan sargeant to your master list?

grill the grid | george russell

social media au

synopsis: in which you discover a gentleman

pairing: george russell x reporter!reader

my masterlist

Instagram

liked by f1, georgerussell63 and 194,712 others

yourusername GRILL THE GRID INCOMING ‼️

view all 30,184 comments

landonorris please go easy on me this year

yourusername no❤️

landonorris 🥲

charles_leclerc i’m afraid of participating

yourusername ????? i’m harmless

charles_leclerc and i’m a world champion

yourusername did you just diss yourself?🫣

charles_leclerc …yes…

georgerussell63 glad to have you with us, Y/N!😊

yourusername always a pleasure doing business with you guys! 🥰

landonorris 👀

charles_leclerc 👀👀

maxverstappen1 👀👀👀

alex_albon 👀👀👀👀

lilymhe go hard on them!!

yourusername i will!!!

alex_albon babe???????????

user1 OMG YES FINALLY !!!!

user2 Y/N torturing the grid during this is my favorite thing in the whole world 🤣❤️❤️

user3 DID NOBODY SEE THE COMMENTS?????

user4 our favorite time of the year has finally arrived

user5 ALL HAIL THE QUEEN OF F1

YouTube

Twitter

Instagram

liked by lilymhe, alex_albon and 391,482 others

yourusername testing it out for myself

view all 83,195 comments

user1 Y/N AND GEORGE????????

lilymhe 👀👀👀 i feel like i'm watching a live rom-com

yourusername you and me both babe 😅

alex_albon is this what i think it is?

yourusername nothing is what you think it is, like ever

alex_albon hey, no need to bully me 🥲

yourusername but you know i love doing it

landonorris i'm curious to see how things progress🤭

yourusername what makes you think you're going to be kept in the loop?????

landonorris ... but we're friends

yourusername who told you that?

landonorris 😟

yourusername 😇

georgerussell63 must be one lucky lad 😉

yourusername he really is. we both are😌

user2 i can't with these two, they're so unserious😂

user3 did we actually convince George to ask Y/N out?

user4 i think we did😅😅

carlossainz55 are you with George?

yourusername i am not at liberty to discuss this at the moment

carlossainz55 oooooh, i understand. my apologies

user6 carlos is such a dad😭😭😭

charles_leclerc did you like the restaurant?

yourusername ...i did, why?

charles_leclerc i recommended it

yourusername interesting. is there anything else i should know?

georgerussell63 you would do well to shut your mouth, mate🥰

charles_leclerc yourusername nothing else to report

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 901,284 others

georgerussell63 finally grew a pair tagged: yourusername

view all 198,274 comments

yourusername you're cute <3

georgerussell63 you're cuter <3

landonorris you're welcome 😁

georgerussell63 thank you, my good friend lando

landonorris 🥰🥰

charles_leclerc you were hopeless, mate😅

georgerussell63 i wasn't that bad

yourusername george, babe. yes, you were.

georgerussell63 :(

lilymhe i’m so happy for you guys 😭😭 finally

yourusername thank you honey 🥰🥰🥰

georgerussell63 were you all waiting for me to ask her out?

carlossainz55 yes

charles_leclerc yes

landonorris yes

alex_albon yes

yourusername yes

georgerussell63 …i really am clueless

user1 WE WON GUYS ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

f1 The couple we have been waiting for ❤️❤️

georgerussell63 admin too?

f1 yup. thought you’d never do it

yourusername 😅😅

francisca.cgomes YYYAAAAAAAYYYY❤️❤️❤️

yourusername ❤️❤️

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

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knightobreath · 9 months ago

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been watching a lot of showvember and ii recently. love those shows. unrelated but i should steal ideas from my friends more often. FAKE DASHBOARD INCOMING

(5 notes)

Anonymous asked: did you hear steve cobs died of ligma

🍿popcornbestcorn Follow

who tf is steve cobs. wouldn't be me though. stream showvember

🔲jjjjjjjejjjjjjj Follow

ligma BALLS

🍿popcornbestcorn Follow

FUCK YOU

��philipguy Follow

@meeple-inc

🍿popcornbestcorn Follow

why did you @ a phone company on my post

🍿popcornbestcorn Follow

#THAT STEVE COBS

(205 notes)

🚪periwinkality Follow

why are so many ii blogs disappearing? did something happen?

2️⃣thepoweroftwo Follow

They’re filming the finale today, so they’re probably just busy!

🚪periwinkality Follow

oh you’re right! i forgot about that!

#i haven’t been keeping up with ii lately

(119 notes)

ㅤ metal-petal-deactivated11092023

THIS IS STUPID

🌸metal-petal2 Follow

i’m back on tumblr

🖥️tv-v-t Follow

\(^o^)/ welcome back

🦋b0tst3r Follow

roboblr missed you!!

(81 notes)

🧢beanie22 Follow

she’s so goddamn immature

#what does rotten apple see in her #text

(1 note)

Anonymous asked: My YinYang plush is under my bed soaking in milk. Maybe one day they’ll be free ❤️

🗳oscconfessions Follow

☯y1n-and-y4ng Follow

WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!

🗳oscconfessions Follow

sorry

#not a confession #i can delete it if you'd like

(52 notes)

📱mephone4-ae Follow

Filming the finale today

🍿popcornbestcorn Follow

hey wanna collab

🧢beanie22 Follow

@mephone4-ae do NOT collab with her. she’s a shit host and will fuck up your show so bad you’ll wish you never made it

🍿popcornbestcorn Follow

YOUR MOM DIDNT THINK I WAS A SHIT HOST WHEN I HAD HER OVER LAST NIGHT

#i WILL block you

(784 notes)

🥄royalsilverwear Follow

Was taking a lovely walk on the beach earlier when i came across a WHOLE TOILET. Disgusting and distasteful! Completely ruined the scenery.

🟪mepad-ae Follow

Hello, could you please contact me? Your DMs and inbox are closed. This is urgent.

#reblog #royalsilverwear

(12 notes)

🍏meeple-inc Follow

For clarification on recent rumors, Founder and CEO Steve Cobs is alive and well. He is not suffering from any disease, nor is his life in any immediate danger.

Please report any misinformation you see to Tumblr Staff.

Thank you,

Meeple Marketing Team

🔪sharp--jerk Follow

He won't be for long

#knightext #inanimate insanity #showvember #bfdi #jej ab shows up but i dont think its enough to tag the show #osc #unreality #OH AND I FORGOT TO TAG #oscc #confessiony is there :)

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jazzyoranges · 1 year ago

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i love you write! can i req where shapeshifter reader's Super high after hanging out with stoners and shift to grizzly bear and can't shift back to human form enid report to wednesday, also reader just talk random shet that all wednesday hear was bear grumbling and whining?, tq 3<

New heights

Wednesday Addams x fem!shapeshifter!reader

Words: 1.1k

Warnings: implied drug use, you’re kinda a dumbass lol, my attempt at humor

A/n: writers block is kicking my ass whoops… also happy new years!

uehdhd nsedd uew gdhjs ppppspsodod hsdf

��Wednesday, can you decipher this?” Enid gets up from her bed to show her roommate the text she just got from you, which seemed to be just a bunch of random letters

“What makes you think I’m going to understand better than you.” Wednesday raises an eyebrow at Enid from where she’s sitting at her desk

“I dunno, she’s your girlfriend? Girlfriend telepathy or something”

“I recall her telling me she was, to put it bluntly, getting high with friends tonight.”

“And you didn’t think to lead with that! Do you know where she is?”

“Knowing her, the forest.”

“And you let her!?” Enid exclaims, a hand racking through her hair

“(Y/n)’s the scariest thing in there. Worst comes to worst she comes out with a few scratches.” The blonde is about to respond when her phone pings with another few messages from you

hey uh tell wednesday to come pick up her girlfriend (10:27)

i think (Y/n)’s lost it (10:27)

i’m her friend btw (10:27)

FUCK PLEASE HURRY SHE’S NOT MENTALLY STABLE ANYMSO (10:28)

“Alright put on your big girl pants, we’re getting your girlfriend” Enid’s phone rings with an incoming facetime from you, and she scrambles to click join. What she doesn’t expect is the face of one of your friends, looking a little more than worried

“Oh, thank god! I’m sorry for bad first impressions, but-“ A whine is heard in the background your friend turns to the noise

“Chill out dude, your girlfriend is right here!” He turns back to Enid

“Please put Wednesday on, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bear cry before” Wednesday perks up at her name and swiftly takes the phone from Enid. Your friend turns around the phone so now the two roommates are looking at a grizzly bear that stands on its hind legs, whining and maybe even sobbing

“(Y/n).” Wednesday says, and you snap your head towards the phone held in front of you

Now aware of your girlfriends face in front of you, you get back down onto all fours and boop the screen with your nose

“Wednesday, I missed you! Y’know I was just out here, getting high with my friends as one does, and then all of a sudden I was really sad! Then I started thinking really hard why that might be and I realized it was because you weren’t here! You know how I ugly cry, right? Well I started doing that but for some reason my friends didn’t really understand what I was saying, but I know you’d understand! So that’s why we’re here. Also, I think I might’ve had a growth spurt. I feel really tall and big right now”

Just by the shaking of your phone on the other end of the call, Enid knows her feelings of confusion and maybe fear are shared when you start to grumble and whine. Only you would be able to ramble as a fucking grizzly bear

“C-Connection’s bad, please say something!” Your friend squeaks behind the phone, and Wednesday resists the urge to roll her eyes. It was you, after all. No reason to be scared

“Enid, make sure she doesn’t freak out. I’ll go pick her up.” Wednesday sighs, grabbing her jacket and giving Enid her phone back. She hears you whine even more when you can’t see Wednesday in frame anymore

“(Y/n), can you…” Is the last thing Wednesday hears before leaving the dorm. For an academy that had a curfew, they were astonishingly bad at keeping it upheld. A turn here, climb up that wall, don’t touch that grass near the academy, and boom you’re in the forest before Enid can post something on her blog about Xavier and Bianca’s relationship

You weren’t very difficult to find. The wailing of a bear basically echoed in the forest and claw marks on trees made a clear path to the place you and your friends were getting high at. Well, were getting high at. Wednesday almost wants to watch your friends stay scared behind trees as you claw at the ground below you even more as Enid’s attempts at calming you down seem to be futile

“Wednesday’s almost there, (Y/n)! Maybe just a few more minutes?”

“But I want her now!!” You cry, falling to the ground on your furry stomach with a loud thump

“We’ve already established you’re a bear! We don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, dude!” Your friends voice cracks

“There are two wolves inside of me…” Your head snaps at the sound of a twig snapping in the forest. You stand up on your hind legs, hoping to intimidate whoever seems to be in the forest with you. You’ve already pissed on every tree so no way another bear would dare challenge you for territory

“Who’s there!”

“Don’t get your fur matted, it’s just me.” Wednesday makes her presence known by a chill in the air, which makes your friend jump but ultimately hide behind her. At first he touches her shoulder but the glare she sends his way makes him rethink his life. Luckily he gets out of the way before you barrel towards Wednesday. This time, as a giant tiger

The Addams is quickly tackled to the floor with your entire body weight on her. Your tongue would probably hurt Wednesday if you licked hard enough so you opt for chuffing wildly while having all the characteristics of a needy house cat. You had to make your peace with not being able to purr as a tiger. Which, you were always mad about. “If big cat, why no purr?” as you’d say

“(Y/n).” Wednesday embraces you. Her hands rack through your fur with calculated fingers that knew where to pet you. Under your stomach, behind the ears, and anywhere on your neck. She also knew where your pressure points were, but there’s no fun in dragging a tiger back to Nevermore

You chuff in response, not planning to stop smothering your girlfriend

“(Y/n).” Wednesday tries again. She fails.

“(Y/n).” This time, the look on your girlfriends face makes you stop your smothering. You blow air into her face with a tilt of your head

“Human, now.” You huff in Wednesday’s face while unwillingly getting off of her. Despite her protest you stay a tiger as you walk over to your friend, who looks confused as ever. Giving him a small nod, you take your phone out of his hand with your mouth and let him pet your head

Next, you scoop up Wednesday on your back while deciding it’s a better time than ever to leave

“S-Same time next week?” Your friend calls behind you. You give him the best smile you can whilst your phone is still in your mouth

You’re halfway out the forest when Wednesday finally decides to talk to you again

“For the record, I’m not doing this again the same time next week.”

//-//

Bonus:

Enid opens her door to; you, who’s taken Wednesday’s jacket with a shit eating grin and Wednesday, who’s glaring at you with what looks to be either murder or adoration.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wednesday (2022)#wednesday x y/n #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x you #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #xavier thorpe #bianca barclay

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star-anise · 2 years ago

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Everyone's got a take, and I've got a take too, about the current Internet Villain: James Somerton, a gay Youtuber who just got exposed (in the back half of a 4-hour video) as massively plagiarizing the work of LGBTQ+ media critics, historians, and memoirists, and then exposed in another 2-hour video as just making up the wildest nonsense about the topics he demonstrably had access to accurate information on.

He achieved a six-figure income on his work by squeezing money out of his audience with claims...

That only he was creating content that preserved queer history and elevated the voices and experiences of the LGBTQ+ community (a lie)

He was in serious financial distress and would have to go out of business if people didn't give him tons of money (a lie)

That he was going to use some of that cash to make definitely good and not-at-all-plagiarized independent movies, a thing he was definitely skilled and experienced enough to do (a lie), and

That those plagiarism allegations were incorrect,, and frankly,,,, hurtful and homophobic. (a GIANT lie)

Like, here's a visualization of the script of one of his videos, "Society and Queer Horror". The highlighted bits were lifted nearly verbatim from the works of others—the 18 authors identified at the time the exposé was posted—and presented as Somerton's own work.

So here's what drives me absolutely up the wall about this:

If he had just ADMITTED that it was the work of other people, THAT WOULD STILL BE COOL. If he had just said, up front, "We are going on a survey of thoughts and insights people have had about this topic", that would still be a good video with a real audience!

Like yes, he studied business in university, he might not have gotten the kinds of research skills and knowledge someone like Kaz Rowe uses to not just report on the history and analysis of others, but evaluate their relative validity and trustworthiness.

But honestly, since watching my niblings (oldest is 13) watch Youtube, I think you honestly can't underestimate the number of viewers who are really hungry for someone saying, "I don't understand this topic! Let's explore it together!"

But NOOOOOOO, Somerton didn't want to be just some schmuck waxing enthusiastic about homoeroticism on film and acknowledging the smartness of other people. He wanted to be HIM, MR. SMARTYBOY, very sophisticated and alluring and thoughtful and deep. Definitely an intellectual heavyweight who just happened to spout off his own personal ideas and analysis that put him at the forefront of all the scholarship on the topic he's come across.

I hate being wrong. Hate being wrong. But blogging for most of my life has forced me to confront constant textual evidence that two or ten or twenty years ago, I said some dumb-ass shit. Honestly, it'd probably keep me up at night sometimes even if I didn't have a written record. I absolutely understand the desire to scan the field, find the coolest people around, and quickly clothe yourself in as perfect an imitation of them as you can manage.

But if you want to be an artist or a scholar who produces something lasting, you can't prioritize coolness over truth all the time. To develop your true, independent voice, you need to find a time and place where it is just you and just the work you're doing, and you have pick up your tools and say, I don't know if I'm doing this right, but this is what feels right to me.

There are a lot of things in life to which we can only truly contribute our presence and our perspectives. Things we can only witness or hold space for. We cannot go back and bleed the pain out of history, or erase the complexity of another person's life. Not honestly, at least.

But those are the times that need our presence, our perspectives, our witness, and our space. When we gather round and tell sad tales about the death of kings, honesty can be the only thing you give that's worth a damn in the large scale of things.

If this dude had owned up to the truth and honestly showed the work of trying to piece together a queer understanding of the world, trying to draw the threads of culture together until he found a place he fit inside them, it would have been so much more valuable to our culture as a whole.

He probably made more money this way, though. While it lasted.

#staranise original #james somerton #plagiarism #lgbt discourse

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clonerightsagenda · 1 year ago

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Had a dream that I got hired to deal with a haunting and I was like you know my blog is a bit right, I don't actually believe in ghosts unfortunately, but it turns out the place was actually haunted and the ghost was pretty pissed off at me for sticking my nose into it. So I went ok, they hired me for *my* skillset, so I started looking shit up and eventually found one oldish book on local urban legends speculating that the ghost was a woman who lived on the property when it used to be a low income lodging house who lost a baby and buried it in the yard, so I dug around and found the remains, which were in an area that the place I was hired by (I think it was a branch of NARA? which is weird, why would they need to hire an outside researcher) was planning to build a new addition on. So by the end of the dream I was going 'yeah ok I have two proposals, one you put these remains in a silver box, rebury it, keep on with your construction, and hope that'll do it, OR you add a covered walkway to your building plans, connect the old building to the new building, and have a nice little courtyard area with a plaque where we rebury the remains, maybe that would make her happy' except I was hired to do research at a history and records institution so I couldn't just write that report based on Vibes, so the rest of the dream was consumed with me trying to figure out which local newspapers would help me confirm the ID and make my case better than one speculative sentence in a trashy book. So yeah. Dreamed I was a ghostbuster but the real core of the dream was the challenges of public history when working with regular people who don't make the historical record very often. Wish you well, dead lady. I was really trying to get you that courtyard.

#I was so busy wondering which historical societies were the best bet #that I did not stop to grapple with suddenly having to change my perspective on souls and mortality #I had a report to write #note that banishing the ghost did not factor into my plans at all #this is a historical records organization! we are not going to banish the historical record!#if anything we would probably want to start taking oral histories #child death cw

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docholligay · 2 months ago

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The Doc Holligay 24 Hour Montana Marathon for Charity!

Every so often, I like to do something that really pushes the boundaries of my body and mind. Why? I don't know, something to do between birth and death. I like knowing that I am the master of myself.

But, in truth that's a little self-serving, and while being self-serving sometimes is okay, it's always better to find a way to turn it to help others.

So I thought: What if I worked for 24 hours straight? Did not sleep, did not stop except to like, pee? What if I did that to try and raise money for charity? God knows there's plenty of places that need it.

Enter in a yearly thing: Yellowstone Valley Gives, a local fundraising drive.

So, May 1st, from 11 am Mountain time, to May 2nd, 11 am Mountain time, I am going to be here. I am going to be doing a wide peppering of things--streams, asks, blogs, chats, all kinds of things and I am open to suggestion. I will be getting a schedule out pretty soon, and next Wednesday I will have full details on how you can sponsor a chunk of time, or change the channel, but also just support the very idea of what I'm doing!

Here's a list of four charities I am working for! I am looking to raise 500 dollars for each, but I would love to blow them out of the water.

Montana Free Press: MFP is an independent online nonprofit newsroom that does some of the best, most honest reporting in Montana. They are funded by readers like me! And donors like you!

Family Service: You've heard me talk about them before, a fantastic organization that helps people get their lives back. They help with job training, meals, a place to sleep, childcare, clothing, all kinds of things. They also, unlike some organizations, serve everyone: As I've helped there I've met both gay and Muslim families, at the very least.

Northern Plains Resource Council: If there's one organization I'm going to have to talk you into, it's probably this one. NPRC is dedicated to Montana's traditional agricultural way of life WAIT WAIT GET THE FUCK BACK HERE. This organization is about protecting the climate of the high plains and building bridges between farmers and ranchers and climate activists, who often struggle to understand each other despite having common goals. I worked with these folks for a long time as basically like, an interpreter between the two worlds. It does SO MUCH good work to protect a part of the country that is IMPORTANT, and VALUABLE, and that I feel a lot of passion for, but isn't as charismatic for most people as a fucking. Mountain.

Head Start: I think most of you are familiar with Head Start wrought large and this is specifically for our local chapter. If you aren't, Head Start is an organization that provides preschool for lower-income families. This includes nutrition programs, early screening, and other things to help kids get on an even footing. This is on the chopping block under the Trump regime (I guess technically everything on this list is in trouble, but this gets a ton of federal funding currently) and I want to help it out!

I may throw in a couple small bonus organizations for things that are very personal to me but I understand are not a major pull for people right now--if everything wasn't blowing up I would probably be raising for these--like Friends of the Boothill Cemetery and the local parks department.

Anyhow, I hope to see you there! Watch me descend into madness slowly, and even a buck is a buck! All four of these organizations are very important, and worth the money, I promise you!

#24 hours of holligay

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olivette-branch · 8 months ago

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Oh baby, is it time.

normally this is where you'd expect to see @yamball and her magnificent primers.

Alas, it is but me and my attempt to let the world know about the puck-slinging, hit-throwing, scared of haunted houses, pale as a vampire forward that has captured our hearts:

Tye Kartye

photo credits: steph chambers

*disclaimer: all of this information is googleable & found across various interviews from Tye, his parents and other information surrounding him & games he has been in! If you want a link to a specific article, please feel free to ask! Also, feel free to send this to others, but keep the primer on tumblr & don't crosspost to other platforms :) keeping fourth walls intact is very important to me.

Childhood

Tye Kartye was born to Richelle & Todd Kartye on April 20, 2001.

His mom is a clinical nurse educator & his father is a chemistry teacher in Kingston.

Tye also has a younger sister, Talya, who is two years younger. They were both also incredibly athletic kids. Tye played soccer and hockey, plus touch football while Talya played basketball and volleyball.

This boy is also so hardworking. Well-known by the nickname, "No Quit" Kartye, he is constantly lauded by numerous past coaches as incredibly hard-working, and focused. To quote his dad, he knew from his childhood that, "he wanted and was going to be in the NHL."

included also, since there are very few photos of Karts as a kiddo: here are some of his Prezi's. Note from topics like stick flex to environmental effects, he is so dedicated and focused in his details. Truly a teachers' son

Stick Flex Prezi

Environmental Effects Prezi

Tough Road Ahead

Of course, Tye's path hasn't been easy to where he is and it starts pretty young.

He took the more traditional route, played in house leagues before going up into high school hockey and then AA & AAA.

Of course, then comes time for the OHL draft. Karts isn't drafted in the first round, nor the second round, not even the third.

Tye is drafted by the Soo Greyhounds in 2017 in the eighth round. Not only is he selected dead in the middle, but he also was cut his first training camp. Instead, he went back to midget AAA and worked his ass off.

In fact, his former coach John Dean, who was named HC of the Greyhounds in 2018-2019 had heard about the skinny kid told to get bigger/stronger in his exit meeting. He came in that year, and said about Karts that "Here comes this moose of a man, who clearly took direction very literally and took it to heart."

Karts took his time in the OHL, and spent a good bit of it working to improve. As it came closer to draft time, he bumped up his work to a more physical level. This was supposed to help his game, but also his potential for the draft. Keep this in mind.

Karts was first eligible for the 2019 draft. He was not selected. Now, he'll mention that he didn't feel he was ready at all at the time.

But! He does partake in the 2019 Development Camp for the Toronto Maple Leafs.

So, Karts plays another year and, is eligible for the 2020 draft.

He isn't selected again. In fact, routinely his scouting reports talk about his skating ability, or lack thereof. Even for a larger player for his age (6'0 and 175+), his skating was seemingly enough of a deterent. He was disappointed, especially after a good season.

Then 2020-21 hits and the OHL season is cancelled. Tye keeps practicing.

photo credits: this blog post about tye

The Undrafted Kid

2021 comes, and the Kraken need bodies for their first development camp. They've got draft picks (Matty Beniers, Ryker Evans, Ryan Winterton to name a few) but they've gotta invite a few more for the incoming guys to spend time with.

Mike Dawson, a scout for the Kraken, started doing his homework. He noted how weird it was this kid hadn't been picked, mentioned it might be because he's a later bloomer.

He gets an invite to the 2021 Development Camp, and while he doesn't get a contract the Kraken now know his name.

He begins to push in his 2021-22 season with the Greyhounds. Not only did he recieve an A, he also scored over 100 career points with them, but also ended the year 4th overall in league scoring, and led the league in PPGs and GWGs as well as ended the season with 79 points (and 57 PIMs, he's been a bit of yapper his whole life).

So March 2022 hits, and the Kraken finally bite. Tye gets an ELC, and he's ready to work.

Also additionally, Ron Francis is an ICON for Tye, who is a Soo Greyhounds alum. The Rink in the Soo is literally on Ron Francis Way.

CVF + Hard Work makes the Dream Work

Tye comes into the new CVF team for the 22-23 season. He attended Kraken training camp, but let's be real. Tye needed more time to prepare.

Karts comes in, and is ready to show off what he can do. He also is trading cold, Canadian weather for the hot Valley and grabbing his golf clubs.

Note of importance: he becomes really good friends with Ryker Evans & Luke Henman.

He starts as a fourth-liner. And, he struggles. He has little ice time, as well as few opportunities.

But, he gets better. And better, and better and better. Soon, he's one of the Firebird's top 6 forwards, and he's skyrocketing towards being a potential call up.

Although it comes later, by the end of the 22-23 Firebirds season (off of a devastating Game 7 loss to the Hershey Bears), Tye is awarded the Dudley "Red" Garrett Memorial Award for AHL Rookie of the year and is also placed on the AHL Rookie All-Star Team. He led all rookies in points, and appeared in every game for the Firebirds that season.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves, because Tye's breakout moments in the AHL don't just end there. They lead to the real deal.

photo credits: Firebirds Media

The Call Up & Goal Heard Round Colorado

So come April, Tye gets recalled to the Kraken who are going on a completely unprecedented and expected playoff run. Not only is it a little unexpected (he's a rookie coming up from his first year in the AHL instead of a vet, and he's having to replace the Jared McCann).

But, Tye gets it because of what has always been the case. He's a hardworker, a grinder and he will make others notice him through it.

So, he comes in for Game 5 of the First Round of the Stanley Cup Playoffs versus the Colorado Avalanche. He finds out that morning he's playing, and sends a single word text to his mom, just saying "playing" at 12:00 PM EST.

His parents begin their journey to Denver, arriving just a few minutes into the first period.

The first period stays scoreless, and the second begins. Geekie scores, before a response by Nathan MacKinnon.

Then a few moments later, Nate MacKinnon trips and is laying on the ground. The crowd is roaring for a call, and Eberle is skating the puck up and around Colorado goal. A quick shot down and a one-timer from Karts nails the puck in the back of the net past the Avs goalie.

Let me say, even for those as a fan of the Avs, the look on NateMac's face when this happens is unbelievable. He's in shock, completely. And meanwhile, Tye is having a fantastic time grinning and celebrating what only 7 other players have done, scoring their first goals in the Stanley Cup Playoffs.

Also, let it be noted that Karts gets back to the locker room after the game. Pure joy from his goal, and what is the first thing he does? Check his phone to see the Firebirds game and how they did.

Not only was that his first instinct, he also was almost more excited about the potential to be back down with the Firebirds. He loves following his dream, but god did he love the Firebirds and family he built there.

Of course, the Kraken’s road to the Stanley Cup is ended in Game 7 of the Second Round vs. the Stars. But! In this time, Kartye has stayed up and even in the place of Jared McCann in some spots.

And then he goes back down to CV for the harrowing journey that was their 22-23 Calder Cup Playoff Run.

photos credit: Steph Chambers & Icon Photography

The Summer After & Rookie Experiences

Of course, Tye became one to watch in the lead up to the 23-24 season.

During which included a delightful video with bestie Ryker Evans and Matt Tennyson, on Episode 7 of Tenny Talks.

I'm simply going to link to the video, because it is insanely funny and it also shows off Tye's personality so well.

So, the summer ends and Tye ends up with the Kraken for 23-24 season.

I could probably spend hours discussing this season, but for our key highlights we're gonna focus on just a few things.

Throwback to our note of importance: anytime Ryker gets called up, he stays in a hotel. Not only does he end up knowing the car valet by name, any time he does almost anything, it is with Tye & Joey. He literally went over to Tye’s to do laundry while Tye’s girlfriend cooked them dinner. Besties for real.

First and foremost, Tye doesn't get a ton of chances. First rookie up (really the only rookie during the season for the Kraken minus other call ups), he gets scratched first a decent amount of times, especially prior to December. But! He keeps working hard, and by the end of the season he has well cemented his place as a fourth liner (who can def move up the line up if needed to).

Second, he really starts to gain a lot of perspective & skills from Yanni Gourde. Note, not only did he dress up as the Easter Bunny in 2024 for the Kraken's kiddos (like Matty did in 2023), but he also really focuses on the aspects of his game that he can improve and make stronger. So what does he do?

He gets into a few scrums (which early on he loses badly), and becomes known as a player who will fight for his teammates. (key fights include: him absolutely lighting up Pospisil after the first period hit on Adam in the Kraken v. Calgary game on March 3).

He also starts to up his physicality. And when I say up, I mean up. Tye ended the 23-24 season with 229 hits, placing him 19th in the entire league.

And of my favorite: Tye is a Grade A yapper. Like literally, this man will yap whenever he needs to. And one of the most iconic times might I add is against Connor McDavid, who Karts almost succeeds to into scrapping with. Known non-fighter Connor McDavid. (Note: this occurred after McDavid checked Ryker Evans, these firebirds turned squids don't play about each other).

photo credits: steph chambers (i believe, but if not, please correct me!)

gifs from: @starshipoftheseus

This Season and Beyond

So where does that leave Tye now? Well, if you tune in to almost any Kraken game, you're sure to see him on the fourth line (likely with Yanni Gourde & Brandon Tanev).

He’s likely to be spotted hanging out with fellow former firebirds Joey Daccord, Shane Wright, and Ryker Evans. They all went to the Halloween party in a group costume and are frequent dinner buddies, with Joey finding gluten-free restaurants for himself and Ryker.

There's also some interest bubbling up, especially because as of posting this, the Kraken re-acquired Daniel Sprong. What does that mean? Well, due to lots of cap things & money stuff, the Kraken essentially with every player healthy can only carry a 20-man roster. This means either someone has to be traded, or you've gotta send the 13th forward down to the AHL. While Karts hasn't been rumored in any trades (and frankly his contract isn't big enough trade value-wise to really help), there is still the possibility he could go on waivers and be sent back down to CV if not performing. So this is definitely a step-up time while the Kraken wait for Vince Dunn to get off of LTIR (which we saw on the 11/12 game against CBJ, where Karts scored the first goal in the second period and his second of the year).

#kraken lb #tye kartye #krakenblr #seattle kraken #kraken lore #liv's stuff

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theprettynosferatu · 20 days ago

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Gatekeeping or This Fiction of Ours

State of the Blog, June, 2025

Well these monthly reports are getting weirder and weirder, aren't they?

Business first: I'm producing around 2 stories a month and captions quite consistently. I've made an effort to showcase some of... the goodest girls around and minimize AI content, although I doubt it will be gone entirely soon. I confess the way the platform is erasing blogs left and right has me concerned, especially in light of proposed US legislation that would in effect make ALL of our content illegal.

Oops politics snuck into one of these posts again! Almost like my head is constantly mulling the topic!

Well, now that we're here, there IS a point I want to make.

There is an idea that we shouldn't gatekeep kink, with the obvious exception of those who can't consent due to age or other reasons. Positive, enthusiastic, informed consent is the one barrier we should uphold. I find this idea generally good. BUT I feel we should be at least vigilant about one other aspect.

Now, I'll be the first one to admit I've fucked up in the past. I'll surely fuck up in the future. I've been called out about it in private and in public, and almost always the people that called me out were right.

Until recently.

I've gotten dms and comments to the effect that I am a misogynistic asshole, or a fascist, or that I believe the things I post in kink. Now, most of us understand that this is fiction. Life and kink are not the same thing and the ideas that turn us on are often the opposite of what we truly believe; their power, in part, comes from the fact that we know they're wrong, that we don't believe them. It's this fiction of ours we indulge in together, knowing we don't really believe in, say, female inferiority. As clear as I've been trying to be about it, however, some people are unwilling to understand or accept that such content is NOT a reflection of real life beliefs.

And you know what? I get it. I do.

I've had the experience of scrolling through kink Twitter, seeing a retweet of something I think is kink, following through to the person's feed and realizing... oh. Oh no. This person is an ACTUAL fascist.

The little twerps are emboldened. They are infiltrating more and more spaces, ours included. They are more open, more brazen, and sometimes their deluded hateful posts are almost indistinguishable from the exaggerated fiction we post AS KINK.

So in this moment I say we gatekeep. We gatekeep as hard as we can. The only way kink can be healthy is if it's safe and understood as fantasy- and these dogfuckers are making the space unsafer by the minute. So, we must be vigilant. We can't reblog real fascists. We let our real colors show, even if it breaks that fiction for a moment.

So with that said, let me be clear:

Fuck fascists.

Feminism is necessary. Perhaps more than ever.

Fuck homophobes.

Trans rights now.

Fuck white supremacy.

Fuck Trump and all authoritarians.

Fuck corporations and their vampire-like need to suck up the work and wealth of people.

Shelter, food, and Healthcare are universal rights and the profit motive should be nowhere near them.

A woman's right to choose about her own life and body should never be violated.

Sex work should be legal and safe.

Income should never be a barrier to education.

Billionaires should not exist.

Conflating labor and productivity with the value of a person is monstrous. People have value because they are human.

The ultimate function of the police is to protect the interests of the ruling class.

I'm sure I'm missing quite a few things. But that should give an idea of where I stand outside kink. I feel we should all take the time to state our core beliefs every now and then. Yes, it harms the fiction of it all. But sometimes we must let truth shine through this fiction of ours.

-Nos

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ladamedusoif · 8 months ago

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Rockford, P.I.

Or: the one where Tim Rockford is a ghost hunter

Inspired by the incredible PPCU AU moodboards by @almostfoxglove!

Pairing: Paranormal Investigator!Tim Rockford x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Content notes/warnings: 18+ MDNI; F!Reader; no physical description of Reader; Tim Rockford AU; Reader is Tim’s occasional partner in the business; established working relationship and friendship; friends to lovers; spooky shenanigans; implied smut; fluff; ghosts; references to death; references to alcohol use; references to drug use; strong language; cliches and most likely a lot of stuff that’s not correct about paranormal investigations.

Author's note: I loved @almostfoxglove's PPCU AU moodboards so much and I've been thinking about this story for a while, so when better to finish and post it than Halloween? I know I haven't written in a long time - since the summer, I think - and at the weekend certain discourse made me want to just give up completely and delete every word I'd ever posted. But this was nearly done, and I feel like at least some people might like to see it. So here you are. Happy Halloween, Oíche Shamhna shona daoibh.

And thank you to @mescalpascal for beta-ing this and not letting me get away with just giving up - with writing, fandom, everything.

To find more of my work and get alerts when I post new writing (which will hopefully be more frequently!), follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications.

Ghost divider by @wethairjoel

“Rockford, PI - Tim speaking. How can I be of assistance?”

Tim spins in his battered desk chair, phone tucked against his shoulder and box of leftover takeout still in hand as he listens to the person on the other end of the line, nodding and “uh huh”-ing every so often.

He stops spinning. He puts down the box of cold lo mein. He grabs a pen, and frantically begins taking notes. He asks the caller to send as much information as they can via email.

And then he calls you.

Other little girls at school wanted to be princesses or singers or models or movie stars. You? You wanted to be a Ghostbuster. Forget clean-cut TV stars or the latest cookie-cutter boyband member, your first love was Dr Egon Spengler.

Fast forward a few decades, and your dream had become reality - kind of. Your doctoral thesis on the interplay between reported paranormal activity and its representation in popular culture had produced a few well-received articles and earned you a positive reputation in the admittedly rather specialised world of paranormal and psychical research. It had not, unfortunately, led to a glittering academic career.

Instead, you made a living with a part-time teaching gig at a university combined with a little freelance consultancy work for movies and TV shows, almost all of which ditched your nuanced advice and produced yet another cliched depiction of “ghost hunters” screaming on camera.

And then there was Tim. You’d met a long time back, after a talk you’d given in the city about change and continuity in the concept of the “haunted house”. He was sitting in the front, diligently taking notes and nodding along as you spoke, eyes warm and encouraging - and he immediately made a beeline to ask you for coffee as soon as the Q&A wrapped up.

Before you parted that evening, he handed you his card.

”Rockford, PI. You’re a private investigator?”

Tim shook his head. “Paranormal investigator. Helps to have most people think it’s the other kind of PI, though.” He called you from time to time, asking for your help on specific cases, sometimes enlisting you as a partner for the duration of an investigation. You always welcomed the extra income, but in truth you helped him out for the sheer love of it - for the chance to feel like a real Ghostbuster, even if Tim worked in business attire instead of boiler suits, and to spend time with one of the few people in the world you felt really got you.

You peer out at the English countryside from the window of the car Tim hired at Heathrow, straining to see something of the allegedly “green and pleasant” land through the miserable grey haze and sheets of rain. The navigation on your phone announces the final turn for your destination. Tim, still getting used to driving on the other side of the road, approaches cautiously and takes the left turn onto the long driveway.

“Whoa.” His voice is awestruck as the car arrives at the enormous country house, now a luxury boutique hotel catering to the rich and famous in search of an exclusive retreat. “We’re a long way from poltergeists in Poughkeepsie.”

You shrug as Tim drives into the small, discreet parking lot to one side of the building. “I’ve done some work on a couple of Gilded Age mansions. This isn’t going to be all that different, right?”

“True,” he muses, climbing out of the car and setting to work unpacking your luggage: a suitcase each, plus several hard-sided cases of vital equipment for conducting the investigation, labelled ‘Scientific Instruments’. “And they did say they think it’s only one manifestation.”

You chuckle as you help him wheel the cases from the car towards the hotel entrance, where a man in elegant livery is already rushing to greet you with a brass luggage trolley. “One manifestation? Please. We got this, Rockford.”

That evening, unpacked, freshened up, and after a dinner meeting with the hotel owner, you and Tim decamp to the library - now a comfortably-appointed lounge with its own bar - to compare notes. The two of you are the only residents, the hotel having temporarily suspended operations in order to deal with the spectral guest.

He hands you a glass of whiskey and settles beside you on the Chesterfield sofa, hair still damp from his earlier shower and his customary attire replaced by a long-sleeved Henley shirt and a pair of jeans. He looks more boyish, the grey patches in his beard notwithstanding, and you find yourself smiling softly at him.

“So: first impressions?”

You take a sip of your drink and reach for your notebook. “First impressions: they must be pretty freaked out to temporarily close down a hotel over one spirit, don’t you think?”

He shrugs. “Maybe? Or maybe it’s unusually troublesome - they mentioned strange things appearing on bedroom walls, guests waking to the sound of a voice shouting for help, weird stuff turning up on TV channels... And they do pride themselves on the whole ‘idyllic rural retreat’ brand, which a ghost doesn’t exactly fit with.” He sips his whiskey and thinks. “Did you find out any more about the death here a couple of years ago?”

”I did - it was weirdly under-reported, given that a celebrity was involved, but I guess people had much bigger things to worry about during the pandemic.” You flip to a different page. “Nothing I found out seemed to contradict the owner’s version of events, though I’m sure they’d be careful to control the narrative if there was anything to hide.”

Tim sucks his cheek, deep in thought, and nods. “I guess we can’t proceed until we see how this thing is manifesting for ourselves. You have everything you need for the surveillance in your room overnight?”

You nod. “And we’ve got the kit set up in the other parts of the hotel the owner mentioned. I think we’re good to go, Timothy.”

He grins, eyes sparkling, and clinks your glass.

Jetlag doesn’t stop you waking as soon as the first rays of sunlight begin to peek around the heavy drapes that adorn the windows of your large bedroom. You’re checking the recordings and readings taken in the room overnight, looking for any indication of paranormal activity, when your phone buzzes with a message from Tim.

Nothing in my room overnight. Anything in yours?

Not that I can see. You want to check the other equipment before breakfast?

Sure thing. Race you to the Full English.

“Oh, it’s on, Rockford,” you murmur to yourself, reaching for leggings and an old hoodie. You slip on a pair of Crocs, already bracing yourself for Tim’s inevitable comments about your choice of footwear, grab your keycard, and slip out of the room.

It’s quiet in your absence, save for the gentle sound of birds singing outside, the wind occasionally rattling your windows - and the increasingly steady beeping now being emitted from a little device Tim had given you, designed to measure sudden shifts in psychical energy.

None of the other devices set up elsewhere in the hotel had registered anything out of the ordinary. Tim, typically, is philosophical.

“We just have to wait, do some more research in the meantime, speak to the staff. How’s that breakfast?” He sips his coffee, mug looking comically small in his large hand, and gives you a mischievous look.

“The bacon’s delicious, the mushrooms are great, the eggs are perfect… but I don’t think Cumberland sausages are for me.” You poke at the thick, half-eaten link sausage on the plate. “Not least because ‘Cumberland sausage’ sounds like a fuckin’ euphemism if ever I heard one.”

Tim laughs, the warm sound resonating in the empty dining room. He tops up his coffee and reaches for another slice of toast, and you realise that he seems…different.

“Rockford?” He looks up at you, toast crumbs in his moustache. “What’s going on with you? You aren’t normally this, uh, jolly on a job.”

He swallows his toast and drinks his coffee thoughtfully. “It’s a fascinating case, and I guess I’m just really happy that we’re working together again. Even if you’re wearing those.”

Tim gestures with mock scorn towards your brightly-coloured Crocs, before giving you a sly wink.

“Are you absolutely sure you want to comment on my sartorial choices, Rockford? Or do you want me to talk about your rotating selection of striped ties from Sears?”

After breakfast, Tim decides to take advantage of the on-site pool and you return to your room for a quick shower before beginning the first round of interviews with hotel staff. The beeping noise is audible before you’ve even reached the door.

You steel yourself and gently enter the room, slowly moving in the direction of the little device on its tripod, various alert lights flashing in sync with the rhythm of its insistent beeps. You transcribe the codes on its screen into your notebook and take a quick video, ready to show Tim as soon as possible. Cross-legged on the floor, you close your eyes for a moment, steadying your breathing.

“I can’t believe they let in someone else wearing Crocs. So much for their fuckin’ dress code.”

Your eyes snap wide open at the sound of the male voice behind you, on the other side of the room. American. West coast, you think. A little…affected?

In other words: that’s probably not a member of staff.

You get to your feet and turn, slowly, in the direction of the voice.

There, on the other side of the room, sprawled on the sofa, is a man you think must be in his early 40s. His hair is wild, wavy, dark; his eyes obscured by a pair of vintage Ray-Bans. He’s wearing a brown teddy coat, which has slipped open to reveal a shirtless torso and a flash of tummy. A pair of loose grey shorts, wooly socks, and fucking Crocs complete his outfit.

Definitely not staff.

Though your heart is pounding out of your chest, you find the strength to speak. “Are you a spirit?”

The man slips his glasses down his nose and gives you a withering look. “What the fuck else do you think I am? And while we’re here - why is that…thing making so much noise?”

“It’s to read changes in psychical activity,” you explain. “So it’s probably picking you up.”

The man thinks about this for a couple of moments, as if chewing it over. With a jolt, you realise two things: firstly, that in all your years of working with the paranormal, you’ve never actually seen a ghost, at least not in this form; and secondly, that you recognise this figure.

“So you do know who I am,” he drawls, pushing his glasses back up his nose and lying back on the couch. Shit, he’s more powerful than you suspected - he can pick up on what you’re thinking.

“It’s…it’s you. The dead guest.”

He exhales dramatically and flops his arm over the side of the sofa. “I have a name.”

You rack your brains, afraid to look away to grab your notebook in case he disappears.

“You’re…you’re Dieter Bravo.”

Tim Rockford is on his twentieth lap of the pool when a slow, steady buzzing noise catches his ear, coming from the direction of the tote bag he’d left poolside with towels, a t-shirt, and shorts. He hauls himself out of the water and roughly dries off his face, hair, and hands before rummaging in the bag. “Fuck!”

He’s half-wet and breathless when you open the door to your room, his fist still raised as if ready to continue the frantic hammering that had signalled his arrival.

“Jesus! You okay?”

He’s turning and twirling around the room, glasses on and fogged up from the residual humidity of his body, holding up one of his own psychical activity detectors. “You…fuck,” Tim hisses as he tries to catch his breath. “You saw it? Where is it?”

“So I’m an it now?”, Dieter drawls, now hovering - literally - in the area of the large bay window.

“He’s there,” you gesture, calmly, as if being in a room with the spectral manifestation of a dead Hollywood actor was an everyday occurrence. “By the window.”

Tim stares directly at Dieter, but doesn’t register anything. Dieter roars with laughter.

“Oh, babe! Looks like you’re special.”

“I’m special?”

Tim swivels at the sound of your voice, confusion written all over his face. Dieter sidles up to the other man, resting his head on Tim’s shoulder, and you’re struck by a kind of resemblance. Tim shivers.

“He can’t see or hear me. Most people can’t, which makes haunting the fuck out of this place hilarious,” the actor explains. He takes a seat on a vanity table near the window and looks a little wistful. “Annika was the last person who could see and hear me,” he sighs. “Kinda nice to be…” - he wiggles his hands in the air - “visible again.”

“He…he says I’m special because I can see and hear him, and you can’t. Most people can’t. Is this…normal? Am I normal?”

Tim crosses the room and puts a hand on your shoulder, gently caressing it in a gesture of reassurance. “I mean, none of what we do is normal. But yes, this is not unusual.”

Dieter immediately launches into a Tom Jones impersonation, gyrating in exaggerated fashion towards Tim, and you roll your eyes involuntarily. Tim looks hurt.

“Oh! Oh, Tim, no, I was rolling my eyes at him. Not you. Shit, this is going to be confusing, isn’t it?”

The crinkles that form around Tim’s eyes when he smiles make a welcome appearance, and his dark eyes twinkle behind his glasses. “I’m sure we can work out a system for keeping communication clear. Usually, when a manifestation is only visible to one or two people, it means they have some kind of need, or something unfulfilled. And, I guess, they think the witness can give it to them.”

You glance over at Dieter, who is still gyrating. He lowers his sunglasses and grins at you lasciviously.

Over the next couple of days, you and Tim interview hotel staff and examine some of the areas affected by the haunting, to establish a pattern for the manifestation’s - for Dieter’s - behaviour.

“The random murals appearing overnight aren’t that disturbing, I suppose,” you muse, noting down the details of the artwork Dieter had left in one guest bedroom.

“Depends on what you consider disturbing, though.” Tim rubs a finger against the paint, examining the powdery residue. “I wouldn’t like to wake up to an extra-large rendering of Hieronymus Bosch’s ‘Garden of Earthly Delights’ on my hotel room wall.”

You giggle and nod in agreement. “Well, fair. Though it’s weirdly good, for a ghost.”

Your psychical activity detectors start to beep in unison and you turn to each other before you spy Dieter, lounging on top of a wardrobe. He’s clad differently, today, this time sporting a green robe, a baggy purple t-shirt, and striped lounge pants.

And the Crocs.

“I am good. Honestly, if they’d got my heart going again I think I’d have quit Hollywood, y’know? Jacked it all in, got clean, got into art properly. Make sculptures, paint, run a gallery or some shit.”

“He’s talking to me,” you explain to Tim, before turning back to Dieter. “So you’re hanging around here because you didn’t get to make the art you dreamed of?”

“Ugh. I don’t have to explain myself to you people.”

And he’s gone.

In the evenings, the hotel insists on serving you and Tim dinner as if you were ordinary guests, not paranormal investigators tasked with eradicating the ghost of an Oscar-winning Hollywood enfant terrible from the property. The lone waiter serves your five-course meal with the kind of exaggerated formality you had only ever seen in films or TV shows about royalty, respectfully pointing out the various cutlery and accoutrements needed for each course in a low, somewhat fawning voice.

“And voilà, Mr Rockford, your seabass.” He lifts the dome from Tim’s plate and does a little bow.

Tim is chewing the inside of his cheek and turning pink as the waiter leans closer to his ear.

“A reminder, sir, should you require it, that the fishknife is that delicate little marvel on the right. Bon appétit.”

Tim says nothing as the waiter makes his way across the vast, empty dining room, watching for the door to the kitchens to close properly before he lets out a belly laugh so huge it almost rocks the table you’re seated at. You raise an eyebrow and pour him a fresh glass of water.

“Are you quite well, Tim?”

He’s taken off his glasses and is rubbing tears from his eyes, unable to control his laughter. “Why did he say that about the fishknife? And the fucking dome? I shouldn’t laugh but…”

“You mean you didn’t need to be reminded that the fishknife is a delicate little marvel?”

Your attempt to replicate the waiter’s tone sets the two of you off this time, and you’re still laughing about it by the time you retreat to the lounge with a gin and tonic each.

This was the longest you’d ever spent in Tim’s company, you realised one night, sitting with your feet tucked under you on the large leather sofa. There was a lot that you didn’t know about each other, but being stuck in a haunted hotel is nothing if not an ideal opportunity for getting to know someone better.

You are listening to Tim animatedly telling you about one of his strangest cases. His face lights up when he talks about his work, big hands gesturing for emphasis, eyes bright and focused on you. He listens to you with the same commitment and interest, keenly asking questions and taking in your every word.

When you lean in for a goodnight hug before parting ways, he seems surprised - but pleased, somehow, as he returns your embrace.

Your TV is on when you return to your room. The tell-tale beeping from the psychical activity monitor gives him away immediately.

“Dieter.”

He’s lying on your bed, propped up on one arm, green robe wrapped around him. “Heyyyyyyy. Hope you don’t mind. Wanted some company and I’ve haunted the fuck out of everyone else around here.”

You shake your head and pour yourself a glass of water. “I don’t mind. But if I let you hang out with me you have to answer my questions.”

He groans and flops back onto the bed, though his body makes no indentation in the bedclothes. “FINE. But you have to answer mine.”

“Fair.” You settle beside him on the bed, trying not to overthink the fact that you were literally hanging out with a dead man. “What the fuck are you watching?”

He runs his fingers through his hair in irritation and points at the 90s sitcom he’s watching on some random-ass cable channel. “Allegedly this is a British remake of Who’s The Boss but like, it’s fucking shit. No Danza, no party.”

You pause for a moment. “Speaking of party…can you do drugs, if you’re a ghost? All the evidence would suggest you can’t, but I’ve never actually heard from someone with first-hand experience.”

“I tried.”

“And?”

Dieter grimaces. “I literally threw a couple of tabs of acid through my stupid fuckin’ ghost body, didn’t I. Just…whoosh.” He gestures with his hand. “I feel so real, y’know? All corporeal. But then you try to get high and bam. No can do. I can’t eat or drink, either.”

“You didn’t answer my question earlier.”

He stares at you. “Why do you get to ask two questions in a row? My turn.”

You roll your eyes and take a sip of your water, noticing Dieter staring longingly at the glass.

“Fine.”

He cackles and claps his hands together. They make no sound.

“Are you and Magnum P.I. fucking? You’re fucking, right?”

“Um, no?” You take another sip of water and swallow hard. “No, we are not fucking. We’re colleagues.”

Dieter mimics you, note-perfect, and cackles again. “Bullshit. He’s down so fuckin’ bad for you.”

“Tim is not ‘down bad’ for me, as you put it.”

He sits up, moving into a kind of lotus position. “He is.”

“He’s not.”

“He is, and I know he is because I can literally sense this shit. And I can definitely sense that you’ve got a crush on ol’ Columbo down the hall. Which is fair, I guess. He’s pretty hot.”

You can feel the heat rising to your face, but maintain what you hope is a neutral expression.

“Oh, Scully is trying so hard not to let her crush on Mulder show.” He smiles a smug, satisfied grin.

“Is he Magnum, Columbo, or Mulder, Dieter?”

“All three, baby.” He hovers about a foot above the bed, pointing at you accusingly. “And you should put him out of his misery. Want me to go check on him for you, see if he’s thinking about you right now?” Dieter wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“If you don’t shut up I’m going to get a ghost trap and put you in it.”

“Like in Ghostbusters?!” Dieter seems unreasonably excited.

“Do you want to be sealed up in a little trap, or would you prefer to continue having free rein?”

He sighs and descends back to the bed. “Ugh. Okay. I’m sorry. But I’m not wrong.”

Dieter fucking Bravo. He was haunting your brain, as well as this hotel.

His insistence that Tim had a thing for you - and vice versa - now coloured every interaction, every conversation between you and your colleague as you tried to discern any evidence that Dieter was right, or that disproved his theory. To your horror, you began to unconsciously hope that he wasn’t just winding you up.

He quickly got in the habit of appearing in your room just before bedtime: staying for a little chat, dodging any of your questions that veered too close to the essential truth of why he hadn’t completely passed over to the great beyond, and asking repeatedly if you and Tim had “got around to fucking” yet.

“It would be kinda hard for us to get around to fucking with a fucking ghost in my room, don’t you think?”

He laughs his wheezy rasp of a laugh and crosses his hands over his tummy. “Listen, the more the merrier, babe.”

A few moments pass before you break the silence. “Why are you so obsessed with us, with me and Tim, with us getting together?”

He pouts and stares into the middle distance. “I guess…hmm. I want people to get what they want, love-wise.” Dieter discerns your incredulous glance. “What? I mean it! I’m a big fan of romance and happy endings.”

“You can’t blame me for being sceptical, Dieter.”

Tension crackles in the air. When he speaks again, he’s very quiet.

“Just because I didn’t get a happy ending in life doesn’t mean I can’t believe in them.”

Dieter’s big, dark eyes - or the spectral impression of his big, dark eyes, now trapped in some in-between place, neither here nor there - look at you with absolute sincerity.

“Is that why you’re still here?”

He turns away.

“I don’t know why I can see you, Dieter, or what you need me for, but there’s got to be a reason for it. And I can’t help you until you talk to me.”

He huddles deeper into his green robe, and you exhale.

“Fine. You’re not wrong. You’re right, in fact.”

He doesn’t move, but you can almost feel his ghostly ears pricking up.

“I’m right?”

You close your eyes and bite your lip. “Fuck it. You’re right, I… I think I do have a crush on him.”

This time, you swear you can hear Dieter smile.

“On who?”

“You know who.”

“Say it.” He chuckles to himself.

“Oh, fuck.” You bury your head in your hands. “Why do I need to say it, when you can sense what I’m thinking?”

Dieter rolls over and props himself up, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Because it’s very fucking satisfying. For me.”

“Fuck you, Dieter Bravo. Fine. I - I have a crush on Tim. Happy?”

He nods, and points in the direction of Tim’s room, down the hall. “Mmm. And now you need to tell Timmy so that he can tell you he has a crush on you and then you can go off and have lots of weirdo paranormal-obsessed babies. If that’s a thing you want, of course.”

“Okay.”

Dieter’s eyes widen. “Okay? So, you’re just gonna tell him?”

“I’ll tell him… but only if you let me help you.”

“No deal. Fuck you two, keep on being idiots.”

“I thought you loved happy endings, romance, all that?”

“Nope.”

You shift on the mattress to face Dieter, and speak more gently this time. “Do you want to be stuck here forever, Dieter?”

He hesitates. “Nope.”

“So, should we make a deal?”

He talks and talks all night, floating around the room, resting on the vanity, on the armchair, on the bed, and at one point drifting in and out of the bathroom - even with the door closed.

And you listen. You listen like Tim listens to you: engaged, curious, open, kind, even, trying to get to the root of what’s keeping this man trapped in between worlds in a luxury hotel in the English countryside.

Unfinished business is a common explanation for why ghosts hang around, you’ve realised. A desire for vengeance, too. Sometimes spirits just want to stay around their families and friends. Once, a long time ago, a client of Tim’s described the work as being like a kind of doula, for ghosts.

“You help them get out of the in-between,” the lady had said, after Tim had solved the ongoing hauntings in her family’s ranch house. “They just need someone to hold their hand, I guess. Well, maybe not literally.”

Watching and listening as Dieter talks about his life, his death, his successes, his failures, you become ever more keenly aware of how right she was, and more focused on getting him to where he needs to be. To peace.

He descends gently to the ground in front of the TV set. “I can’t deny that the whole Beetlejuice shtick has been fun, most of the time,” he says, sadly. “But you’re right, I don’t wanna be stuck here for the rest of my life. I mean, the rest of my death. I mean -”

“The rest of your afterlife.”

He grins. “Exactly.”

“Dieter… do you think you might just be afraid?”

“Afraid?” His eyes are wide and frightened, giving you his answer without a word.

“Afraid to let go. Afraid to move to the next stage, whatever that is.”

“But that’s just it.” Dieter stares at his Crocs. “You said it. ‘Whatever that is.’ I don’t know what’s there.”

“No one does, though. And most spirits don’t end up haunting entire hotels, they just…pass through.”

He nods. “I guess I always had to stand out, huh?”

“Nothing wrong with that,” you agree.

He takes a couple of moments to compose himself. “I… I saw whatever the fuck comes next when my heart stopped. Bright light, all that shit. Fuckin’ near-death experience, except I was actually dead.”

“But you didn’t pass through?”

“I feel like my entire self just went ‘fuck this, I’m not done’. But I couldn’t come back, y’know?” He tugs at an errant curl. “I guess…fuck. I didn’t want to be forgotten. Wanted to know I could live on, maybe.”

“You don’t have to stay in the in-between to live on, Dieter. The work speaks for itself.”

He groans. “Some of it does. Never got to rebuild properly, though. Whole lotta shlock in there and one fuckin’ Oscar.”

You bring yourself to the ground beside the spectre. “That’s one Oscar more than most of us will ever have. And plenty of people who died before their time still live on in their work.”

“If you mention the 27 Club to me I will actually haunt you for the rest of your life.”

“Noted.” You smile at him, cheered by the sight of a little grin on Dieter’s lips. “But you know it’s true.”

“I just never got the happy ending.”

He looks so sorrowful in that moment that you wish, more than anything, that you could hug him - make him flesh and blood, just for an instant again, so he could know the comfort of a warm embrace.

“Maybe the happy ending is off there in the hereafter.”

Dieter arches an eyebrow. “Do you actually believe that?”

You grin and chuckle. “Honestly? Fuck knows what’s after all this. I think I’d rather not know. But even if it’s just a bright light and bam, that’s it - you’ll live forever, Dieter Bravo.”

Tim is bed-headed and bleary-eyed when he opens his door to you at 6.30am, but he smiles widely when his vision focuses and he recognises your face.

“Have a seat, have a seat,” he gestures to the bed, before blushing a little. “Or I can move my clothes off the armchair, if you’d prefer.”

You perch on the edge of the mattress and shake your head. “It’s perfect here, thank you. I just wanted to tell you that I think Dieter’s…”

Funny how, in spite of doing this job and researching these phenomena for so many years, some cases just get to you. A sob catches in your throat as you try to find the words.

“I think the haunting problem is solved, I guess.”

Tim’s eyes widen in amazement and he sits beside you on the edge of the bed. “Your doula skills, right?”

You nod, tears still threatening to fall at any moment. His strong arms wrap around you and hold you close, keeping you safe as you cry against his broad chest.

“Please do feel free to stay for the next couple of days, of course.” The hotel manager is effusive and grateful as you wrap up the debriefing session later that morning, standing up to shake your and Tim’s hands in turn. “The rooms are booked, we won’t be reopening to other guests until we can redecorate the affected bedrooms. It’s on us, an extra little thank you for dealing with our, uh, friend.”

After lunch, the two of you walk through the property’s walled gardens and admire the various topiaries and water features. All the while, your promise to Dieter lingers at the forefront of your mind.

You said you would tell Tim how you felt, if Dieter let you help him. And he did. And now…

Fuck. And you wouldn’t put it past Dieter Bravo to somehow find his way back from the hereafter, just to haunt you out of spite.

You look over at Tim, who’s taking a photo of the hotel buildings from the gardens, and feel a surge of affection, mingled with anxiety. What if Dieter had got you right, but Tim wrong?

He catches your eye and grins at you. “Hey, come in for a photo?”

You pose beside an ornamental fountain, Tim concentrating as he sets up the shot. He beckons to you.

“How about a selfie, maybe?”

His arm snakes around your shoulders as he angles the phone towards the two of you and captures the moment: he, suit on but tie loosened, eyes twinkling; you, smiling broadly into the lens.

He brings you a gin and tonic, settling in beside you on the Chesterfield sofa and clinking his glass of whiskey to yours. In the last few days the ritual has become familiar and comforting; and with a jolt you worry that this might be the last time you enjoy it together.

Tim sips his drink in contented silence, watching the flames of the large, open fire.

“You’re quiet. Is everything okay?”

His dark eyes meet yours as you turn to face him. “I’m…”

Dieter Bravo is going to haunt you if you don’t do this.

What if this is your happy ending?

A large swig of G&T, to fortify your resolve.

“Um, I’ve really enjoyed this whole case, working with…being with you.”

Tim smiles softly. “Me too. It was nice to get the chance to get to know each other better.”

Another fortifying sip.

“I was wondering…uh. Shit. Maybe, when we get back, would you -”

Your voice dries up in your throat. The next words are barely more than a whisper.

“Would you maybe like to get a drink or dinner sometime? With me?”

For an instant, you can see that Tim is on the verge of brushing it off, of asking why you're being so strange about this, of saying that you regularly meet for coffee if you’re both free, talking about that diner you sometimes go to.

And then the realisation sinks in, and his face softens into a huge smile.

“I would love to take you for dinner. And drinks. Whenever you want, wherever you want.”

He puts his glass down and moves closer to you. Your fingers reach for the end of his tie as your bodies shift ever closer, until he’s holding your face in his hands and his mouth is on yours, kissing you with warm intent.

You’re about to pull him down to the couch, his hands already snaking up under your blouse, when a stern cough makes the two of you jump.

The hotel’s only waiter casts a disapproving glance in your direction and shakes his head as he processes through the lounge to the main bar.

Your hand reaches for Tim’s and you lead him towards the hallway and the main staircase leading to the bedrooms.

The morning is grey and dreary, rain already pelting against the windowpanes as the dawn light struggles to break through the dark clouds. You press a kiss to Tim’s bare chest as you slip out of bed to use the bathroom, padding swiftly across the deep-pile carpet so as not to wake him.

The green robe hanging from the hook on the tiled wall of your bathroom is unmistakable, but even so you have to pause for a moment to be sure it’s real. You run your fingers over the textured weave and fabric, noting how (surprisingly) good it smells - faint whiff of weed notwithstanding.

Tim stirs as you close the bathroom door and walk back to the bed, blinking awake and greeting you with a delighted smile.

“Good morning. Nice robe.”

“A movie star gave it to me,” you explain, shedding the soft green garment and pulling Tim’s naked body to yours before he can ask any further questions.

(Sorry, Dieter. Love you.)

#rockford pi fic #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford AU #tim rockford #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu crack!fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedrostories #ladamedusoif writes #ladameecrit

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 3 months ago

Note

Can you please go into more detail about what you think has been happening at Sentebale from your professional experience and also from your royal watching experience too? Do you think the same has been happening at SussexRoyal, MWX, Archewell, American Rivera Orchard, As Ever, Travelyst etc.

Sentebale

First, I want to clear up some misinformation and rumors about Sentebale that I'm seeing on other blogs and forums: Sentebale did not receive the majority of its budget from USAID. You can check Sentebale's own annual reporting. The most recent annual report is 2023, in which they reported receiving approximately $213,000 from USAID and the UN. That is not a lot of money. To the federal government, that's like the equivalent of buying a 12-pack of crayons.

The other Sentebale/USAID rumor I've seen is that USAID gave Sentebale $51.4 million. No, that did not happen. USAID gave the country of Lesotho $51.4 million, earmarked for HIV/AIDS, over a period of five years cumulatively. It's possible that Sentebale got some of that money, but they did not get all of that money.

So USAID's foreign assistance getting turned off is likely not the source of Sentebale's current financial crisis. Reading the 2023 annual report, it sounds like most of Sentebale's money is raised from private donors. The NGO assistance from USAID and the UN is a small, insignificant portion of their overall budget.

(Lastly: I don't care what your political stripes are. This is not the post to be linking USAID to fraud and corruption. I will be blocking everyone who talks about that in any reblogs or comments. This is your only warning.)

But all of that said, I feel pretty confident saying that Sentebale does have financial issues of some kind. Look at the 2023 financial statement, which is included in the 2023 annual report:

The TL;DR of this worksheet is that expenditures (money going out) are rising while income (money going in) are declining.

This is not unique to Sentebale. It's a reflection of the economic downturn that many people and countries around the world are struggling with. And in fact, Sentebale's annual report says just this:

In my opinion, declining income means donors aren't giving or they're not giving big bucks anymore. For me, that's a ding on the board and the patrons because they're the ones who do a lot of schmoozing with the donors to raise money. From what I've seen of Harry...well, he plays polo twice a year and that's really all we know about his kind of charity work. I don't think he's courting donors the way he needs to, or should be, and I think that's a systemic problem in his approach to charity work - he and Meghan both seem to be resting on their titles and expecting the money to come rolling in because of that, plus their connection to the BRF.

The annual report also includes a statement on trustee responsibilities, which outlines their duties and responsibilities to Sentebale.

Knowing some of the complaints/concerns that Dr. Chandauka raised in her statement to The Sun, I suspect there's something going on here with their responsibilities as well, probably related to policies and records management. They aren't glamorous areas of responsibility - like when you join a board, you don't think about compliance requirements, you're usually thinking of all the fun, cool stuff you're going to do - so either the compliance work will get the barest minimum of attention or it'll get pushed to the Chair to do.

And that's kind of what I'm feeling is happening: the board isn't doing compliance (or hasn't done compliance well) so Dr. Chandauka has had to step in and now the board is upset because they don't like the way she's doing it and/or the decisions she's making.

SussexRoyal/MWX Foundation

I don't know a whole lot about these two charities. I know that Harry and Meghan intended for SussexRoyal to be their version of the Royal Foundation, but as per one of the books (Finding Freedom? Revenge?), it was incorporated in the wrong way.

There are two ways to incorporate a charitable organization. I'm fuzzy on all of the specific details, but it more or less boils down to one way has less oversight, the other way has more oversight. SussexRoyal was incorporated in the "more oversight" way, while Harry and Meghan wanted it in the "less oversight" way. Why did they want this, I can only guess, and it's because they planned to use the organization not so much for nonprofit charitable work but as a way to reduce their own personal expenses by charging SussexRoyal instead.

All I know about MWX Foundation is that after they were told they can't use "royal" and Meghan had her little hissy fit, they launched MWX Foundation and moved all of the SussexRoyal assets there.

Where the snafu with the Royal Foundation happened is that when the Sussexes left, William and the Royal Foundation gave them a little bit of seed money so they could launch SussexRoyal/MWX Foundation. This is perfectly normal, it happens all the time, but there are certain laws, rules, and regulations to follow. The Charity Commission received a complaint that the transfer of funds was fraudulently done because it was about the brothers' relationship more so than the charitable organizations. (It sounds to me like someone was upset that they donated to the Royal Foundation but the check was cashed by SussexRoyal, which is a legitimate complaint.)

While the commission's investigation cleared the transactions between RF and MWX, the investigation did ding MWX on their documentation and recordkeeping...aka compliance. Their findings specifically said that MWX was spending too much on administration (meaning operating expenses and salaries), that it was concerning how quickly they closed the charity's operations, and the documentation wasn't as complete as it could have been.

Travalyst

So Harry's Travalyst organization was part of the RF/MWX investigation. The seed money that RF gave to MWX was later given to Travalyst.

And what do we know about Travalyst? ... Nothing. They don't put out any kind of annual reports or statements, so it's not really clear what they do, other than something having to do with sustainable travel.

A lot of people have a lot of questions about Travalyst.

For me, I think Travalyst is a way for Harry to get kickbacks from the travel industry in the name of conservation/environmentalism. I truly do believe that a lot of the traveling we see him (and Meghan) do is organized through Travalyst in a way that not only lets them write off all their expenses and taxes to someone else's checkbook, but also allows them to fly private and say they're helping the environment.

Major eyerolls from me here.

Archewell

Tragic name aside, I feel like Archewell was well-intentioned but poorly executed in the way that all things Sussex are. Archewell is/was definitely set up the way Meghan wanted, with as little oversight as possible.

And the thing about Archewell is that a lot of the problems they were dinged on for SussexRoyal/MWX Foundation, those problems followed them to Archewell. They have significant administration costs and their recordkeeping is lax (because they're always late on tax filings).

They do actually have good programming with Archewell, once you look past how odious and insufferable Meghan and Harry are. But the programming gets lost underneath the way the Sussexes use Archewell for self-promotion (which is true about a lot of these celeb-led charities), the downside to which is the assumption (and rumors) that the Sussexes use Archewell for a personal piggy bank, despite the record "showing" they work only one hour a week and don't draw a salary.

Speaking for myself only, my impression of Archewell is like a mafia-run restaurant. You don't actually see anyone in the restaurant (Archewell doesn't actually do anything) but year after year after year, the restaurant still stays open. Someone is bankrolling their operation because they don't seem to make any profit. Plus the fact that it's both a non-profit and a for-profit umbrella...gives me the icks.

ARO/As Ever

We might as well lump these two together because they're the same thing.

And just like with Archewell, the issues from SR/MWX continue to follow Meghan: insufficient documentation and lax recordkeeping, because she can't get her trademark and copyright applications correct.

This isn't a non-profit, it's an entirely for-profit organization selling goods and products, so a lot of the rules that apply to AW/SR/MWX don't apply here. I would not be surprised if there are invisible strings connecting Archewell to As Ever - for instance, maybe Meghan used money from Archewell to launch As Ever, versus her own money.

Invictus Games

I did a deep dive on their financials last year and much of it still remains valid. I don't know much else about Invictus Games as a nonprofit, so this will have to do.

The End

So if we look at the Sussexes' history as leaders of their own charitable organizations...they kinda suck. Because here's what we know:

There was actual evidence of mismanagement from the 2020 Charity Commission investigation pertaining to compliance and recordkeeping.

There are similar issues with documentation and recordkeeping in Archewell and As Ever.

Donations to Sentebale and Invictus Games are going down while expenditures are going up.

Harry is checked out of Invictus Games, showing up only for events (aka the games).

Harry is checked out of Sentebale, showing up only for events (aka polo).

Harry is checked out of Archewell, showing up only for events (aka paid speeches in NYC) - otherwise, it's largely Meghan's charity vehicle.

What even is Travalyst?

And I didn't include African Parks in this round-up, but we also know that Harry is checked out of African Parks and tends to show up only when there's an event.

Yes, that technically is what being a patron means - you lend your starpower to the organization so they can raise money or awareness, but most other patrons are also involved in the work, attending calls and reading reports and actually helping with the fundraising. That isn't what Harry does. He shows up for the bare minimum to collect his fee. That's what the historical record shows. That's what the safe assumption to make is.

So am I surprised that there's strife at Sentebale? No, not at all. Because it seems to follow Harry. He's so checked out otherwise, focusing only on how he can use charity work for attention and PR. He's not going to do anything with compliance. He just wants to collect his check and get content for a PR campaign.

And I think with Sentebale, it's finally caught up to him. It's caught up to him in a way that the African Parks scandal didn't, and I think it's for two reasons: 1) how much more personally affiliated Harry is to Sentebale, which makes him that much more personally responsible, and 2) that Harry has successfully affiliated Diana to Sentebale.

And I would put good money on Harry's accountability having everything to do with his mother's memory. He does not want Diana connected to any negativity or criticism, which honestly is very fair of him. I would also even suggest that the way Harry's PR keeps connecting Sentebale to Diana means he may have been able to use her memory to get whatever he wanted out of the board, and possibly donors too, but either Dr. Chandauka doesn't fall for that or the changes she made/wants to make doesn't leave room for Diana worship/guilt.

But as I've said before, and as I will keep saying, there's a lot we don't know about what's happening at Sentebale so I continue to urge everyone to tread carefully here.

#sussexes #sentebale #archewell #aro #as ever #invictus games

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