#sir i am not your servant I am your coworker and you better treat me as such

[mogai-sunflowers]

the fucking NERVE of some cis men istg 💀💀💀 this man has worked in my position for two WEEKS and I’ve been here for a year and he treats me like im the newbie. “This is how you do this”, “well i do it THIS way and it’s better”, telling me what to do like SIR i am YOUR boss rn I AM THE SENIOR EMPLOYEE TRAINING YOU!!!! and then he flat out STORMS OUT OF THE KITCHEN AND LEAVES HIS SHIFT 5 HOURS EARLY because he can’t stand taking orders from a girl like,,,,, sir if you think women belong in the kitchen then why are you upset about me being able to do my kitchen job better than you <33333

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Gosford Park in Reaction Texts

So I have a coworker I introduced to Downton a little over a year ago. She's a very opinionated person and very loud about her opinions, but also pretty good at adapting to new information, so I had loads of fun guessing when the cries of "OMG THOMAS IS SUCH A DICK I WISH HE'D DIE!!!" were going to go away.

Admittedly, they didn't die out as much as I thought they would in season two, although they did at least quiet a bit after Edward's death. Season three converted them to "Damn you, Thomas! I'd just gotten myself to stop crying!"

I still have the text on my phone from when she hit season five:

OMG, I LOVE THOMAS!!!!!!!!

I didn't keep the one of her demanding to know why he was being awesome and proclaiming it unacceptable, for some reason, but good coworker that I am, I rubbed her face in it the next day.

Since then, I've been shoving Gosford Park at her, so she has something for comparison. Tonight, she's finally watching it. I told her I wanted reaction texts. The experience is  as follows:

(Movie spoilers behind Keep Reading bar)

Her: Omg, he straight up pushed the coffee out of her hands! Her: Lol Me: XD

Her: OMG!!!! He got stabbed!!!! Her: Ahhhhhh Her: Who did it?!?!?!?!?! Me: YOu shall have to watch and find out! Her: Nooooooo Her: Telllllll meeeeeee Me: It was the one person! The one who with the knife! (sic) Her: ......=/ Her: Now you're just being mean Me:Mwahaha

Her: Oh this dumb inspector Her: Smacking my head against the wall Me: What, you think Sir William deserved competence? Her: No Her: But he treated the dog really good Her: lol, it was his one saving grace really Me: I'm not sure Julian Fellowes can write an aristocratic man who doesn't love dogs. I think it's coded in his DNA. Her: Hahahahahahahahaha Her: Yeah, got me there

Her: Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha, he did that on purpose didn't he??? Her: Dropping it all over Denton? Me: That was actually a RL accident, but it came off as such a brilliant revenge move they kept it. Her: OMG this is the coffee part you were talking about huh? Her: Lol Her: XD Me: YUP!

Her: SHE TOOK THE DOG!!!!! Her: Omg I can't XD Me: Elsie is wonderful. She'll make a great film star.

Her: Oh shit it was her!!!! Her: IT WAS HER!!!!????? Her: :0 Me: Do not anger the servants! They know where you sleep!

Her: That was sad :( Her: Her son never knew Her: Servants are scary :/ LOL Me: So, Gosford or Downton, where would you rather live? Her: Ooh, probably Downton. I know them better lol Me: ...I am a bit alarmed that your reasoning is 'I know them better' and not 'they were not a bunch of philandering back stabbers'. Her: Lol Her: I didn't want to be rude Her: One of them might stab my poisoned body Her: XD Me: Fair point!

[fear-and-control]

Crane was stressed. That much Crowne could tell just by looking at him as he pushed open the hangar doors. There was a familiar slump to his narrow shoulders, as if he bore an invisible but heavy load, and though she couldn't quite make out his eyes behind the crooked frame of his glasses, the bags beneath them were apparent. He hadn't been sleeping again. Not that it came as much of a surprise, especially to her, but it didn't bode well. It was the grimace that sent up red flags, though- the ever so subtle working of his jaw that she had came to recognize over the years. Crane was overworked, and, from the look on his face, he was going to take it out on someone.

Not that Crowne was in a particularly good mood, either. When Crane was overworked, she was overworked. Never mind that it had only been two nights since she had gotten piss drunk with Crane at The Jackal's Den, or that she and Mary had sat Boston down just a few hours ago to have the hardest conversation of her entire life. She'd had errands to run, loan requests to file for that would undoubtably be denied, hospital bills to juggle for hopeless hours on end, Christmas presents to worry about, groceries to steal, medications to pick up at 2 AM... Not to mention that it had been two months since they'd made rent, and she hadn't gotten more than four hours of sleep in as many days. Needless to say, Tracy Crowne was stressed.

"Stone."

But there were more pressing matters to attend to at the moment.

Stone bolted up from her chair, throwing down the cards in her hand as she did so and snapping to attention. Jackal, Hyne, Clyde, and Crowne followed suit. All pushing away from the rickety folding table they'd been playing euchre at for the past ten minutes, they turned on a dime to face Crane as he stomped into the room. Another red flag- Crane usually carried himself with a certain grace. It wasn't good when it fell. Either something bad had happened, or that wasn't Crane at all. Crowne wasn't sure which option she preferred.

Evidently, the same thought had occurred to Liza Stone. She ghosted an apprehensive finger across the wicked scar running the span of her face as Crane drew nearer, but retained that same nonchalant stoicism that Crowne had come to both respect and resent.

"Yeah, boss?" Stone asked, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets and leaning back against the table. Crowne wasn't buying her act- too stiff, and her eyes were darting around much too frequently. And if Crowne could see through it, she didn't doubt Crane could as well.

"I gave ya one simple job, did I not?" Crane asked, and there was an edge to his voice that instantly put Crowne on alert, even if he wasn't addressing her. She and Stone shared a brief glance, in which they agreed that this was, indeed, not Scarecrow, but Crane...and that it didn't really make much of a difference.

"Well, I mean, I wouldn't exactly call it simple, but-" Stone began, grinning sheepishly.

"What did I ask ya t' do, Stone?" Crane interrupted.

Oh, she was so fucked.

"...I was supposed to make sure all the test subjects stayed put...sir," Stone said.

"And d'ya know what I found when I went down t' the lab jus' now?" Crane asked.

For a moment, Crowne almost felt bad for her. Almost. Of course, she quickly recalled all the extremely lewd rumors Stone was so fond of circulating regarding her relationship to Crane. And suddenly, the moment had passed. Funniest thing.

"I mean, I could probably guess," Stone said, laughing nervously.

"One of the experimental group members is gone, Stone," Crane snapped, glaring down at her. "Care to explain how that happened?"

"Well, I mean-" Stone stammered, taking a reflexive step away from Crane.

"She was probably playing Fortnite again," Jackal said.

Stone wheeled on him with a vengeance. "Do you ever shut the fuck up, dumbass?"

The look Crane gave her would have frozen beer. "Whatever it was, you're gonna fix it now."

Stone opened her mouth, and for a moment Crowne thought she was going to argue, but evidently she thought better of it. "Which one got away?"

"Jacob Smith. African-American man, somewhere in his early thirties."

"Oh, the hot one?"

Crowne was very glad that she wasn't the only one who laughed. She at least had the sensibility to try and turn hers into a cough, however.

Crane sighed explosively, pinching the bridge of his nose. "If that's how ya recognize him, then yes. The hot one." Clearing his throat, he fixed Stone with a pointed look. "I don't wanna see ya until he's taken care of. I can't have 'im tippin' off the GCPD. Find him."

"By 'taken care of,' do you mean-" Stone began.

"Do whatever ya deem necessary. Just make sure he's not talkin'. And don't disappoint me again."

Stone bit her lip, no doubt in an attempt to hide the beginnings of a smile. "Yes-sir."

The look on her face was enough to turn Crowne's stomach as she watched her grab her gun and dart out the door. There were plenty of reasons for her to dislike the woman, but perhaps the best one was her stunning amorality. Stones in glass houses, yes, but the woman had a sadistic streak a mile wide. At least Crane had the decency to hide his.

"The rest of ya, start sortin' through the rest of those crates," Crane said with a dismissive wave of his hand. And, turning away and starting towards the room he'd converted into his office, he snapped his fingers. "Crowne."

"I'm not a dog."

She wasn't sure who was more surprised- her or Crane. The moment the words left her lips Crowne froze. The rest of her coworkers wheeled to look at her, eyes wide, and Jackal audibly gasped.

Crane blinked hard, raising an eyebrow and turning to look at her. "What was that?"

There was no backing down now. "I said, I'm not a dog."

Oh God, she was in too deep now. Everyone was looking expectantly between her and Crane now, and she didn't have to be a genius to see the look of shock on Clyde's face.

For a moment Crane regarded her coolly, but the working of his jaw gave him away. He was not happy with her. Crowne squared her shoulders, standing firm despite the lump in her throat. God, she was an idiot.

The room was dead silent until Crane pointed to the ground by his feet and snarled out his final order.

"Come."

Jackal and Hyne sucked in a tight breath. All eyes were on her now; there was nothing else for her to do. Face burning with shame, Crowne trudged her way across the room to stand beside him. Without a word Crane ushered her into his office, and away from the prying eyes of her coworkers. The second the door clicked shut behind them, Crowne wheeled on Crane.

"That was humiliating," she said. "Did you really have to-"

She didn't get the chance to finish. Without warning Crane grabbed her hard by the face, wrenching her chin up to look her in the eye.

"Don't ever undermine my authority again," Crane snarled.

Crowne stifled a scream, instead forcing herself to ignore the familiar thrill of fear that rattled up and back down her spine and meet his yellow glare evenly. "I thought we were past the intimidation and empty threats."

"What makes ya think they're so empty?"

Crowne's heart pounded in her chest. "Oh, please. You would've killed me a long time ago if you were going to."

Crane's face was inscrutable. She bit back a cry as he dug his fingers hard into her face, regarding her for a moment in tense silence, before finally releasing her and taking a step back. Crowne shook her head, rubbing her face where his nails had dug into her skin and working her jaw.

"Just because I pay ya more doesn't mean you can get a big head, Crowne," Crane said, sinking into the chair behind his desk.

Crowne looked over her shoulder at him, taking in the entire room. It had been a foreman's office once, and it was little more than a small alcove with a large desk in the center lit by a dim overhead lamp. In the corner was a large wire cage with a sheet thrown over it, in which she knew Poe was resting- the faint rustling of feathers gave her away.

"I'm aware of that, sir," Crowne said.

"An' just because I entrust certain responsibilities to ya doesn't mean ya get to argue with me in front of everyone else," Crane said.

Taking a deep breath to steel herself, Crowne took a step forward, planting a hand on his desk. "I'm not a servant. I'm an employee, I do a job, and if I'm not being treated like one, I'll walk."

Crane scoffed. "No you won't."

She opened her mouth to protest, but came up empty-handed. He was right, of course, but she didn't have to like it. With a frustrated sigh she threw herself down into the chair opposite of him.

"I do half your job, you know. You need me just as much as I need you," Crowne said.

"What're ya tryin' to suggest?" Crane asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm just saying, a little respect wouldn't go amiss." Crowne was keenly aware that she was pushing her luck, but goddammit, she was stressed, she was humiliated, and she was tired of letting herself get stepped on just to earn a living.

"I give you preferential treatment!" Crane said, and for a moment he sounded almost indignant.

"And you use corporal punishment."

"I haven't done that for a long time!"

"You fear gassed me, like, three months ago."

"That was everyone there!"

"Alright, fine. What's my first name?"

Crane opened his mouth as if to answer, one finger raised in protest, but nothing came. The look of embarrassment on his face, however small, was worth its weight in gold.

"Fine. I accept your premise," Crane said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

"It's Tracy," Crowne said, only because she knew he would never ask. "...But what was it you wanted to see me for in the first place?"

"Well, first off, I need ya to call Astro and confirm when he's gonna have that chemical shipment in," Crane said, running a hand along the stubble on his jaw.

"Astro?" Crowne said, groaning. "He's always so difficult. Never wants to deal with me."

"Well, tell 'im if he won't deal with ya, he's gonna hafta deal with me."

Crowne nodded, leaning back in her chair. There was no way in hell that was it. He wouldn't have pulled her aside just to have her make a phone call. "And?"

Crane nodded, mostly to himself, and for a long moment he said nothing. She knew better than to push him- he had that look on his face that meant he was thinking hard. Choosing his words carefully.

"In this next comin' week," Crane said, with that ubiquitous caution she'd come to know him for, "I'm gonna be bringin' on another associate."

It was Crowne's turn to cross her arms, blinking hard. "Just in time for Christmas, huh?"

Crane conceded with a tilt of his head. "Just about, yes. He's gonna be workin' very closely with me."

"And what does that mean for me?"

"It's not gonna have any effect on your pay, if that's what you're worried 'bout."

It was, in fact, precisely what she had been worrying about. She might not have been paying for additional treatment any longer, but Mary had accumulated quite the bill over the last few years, and Christmas was fast approaching. Barring that, though...

"What will it effect, then?" Crowne asked, observing Crane carefully, then added, "Will we have to work Christmas Day?"

Crane chuckled a bit at that. "No, we'll have no need of anyone by that point. You'll want to steer clear of the Diamond District, though."

"Funnily enough, I don't think that's gonna be a problem," Crowne said, then cleared her throat. A bit too casual there, Tracy. This was still Jonathan Crane, after all, and she'd just had a fight with him a few minutes ago.

"You'll both be doin' different jobs," Crane said. "Crowne, I want ya to treat 'im like you'd treat me. And I want to be sure everyone else does the same."

Crowne leaned back in her chair. "An apprentice, then?"

"Yes."

She nodded, lost in thought. Crane had tried to take apprentices before. Everyone knew about Becky Albright, of course, but there'd been another girl as well. Jones, was it? She'd never actually met one of them, though; he'd never gotten them to stay long enough. Not that she was going to say that out loud, of course. The implications were troublesome, to say the least.

Things were going to get interesting around here.

"I see. Will that be all, sir?"

"Yes. Get on that call, please. I'll be in here if there's any trouble."

"Yes, sir."

Respect.