#tattling

Great question. I recommend trying something like: when a player exclaims !tattle! we have to pause and let them do their tattle (rather than them saying "you've been a very unlucky X," which can take a couple seconds and does not make it immediately clear the roller should stop). As long as we don't yet know the outcome of the roll when the tattler announces they're modifying it, the tattle is legal.

Hank: (walking in the house from school, coat and backpack still on) Oh my gawd, mom, you will never believe what happened at school today.

Me: Spill.

Hank: So I was in the library and this 6th grader who had missed school was in there to take an exam and he cheated on the whole time! Like through the whole test!

Me: Cheated how?

Hank: I saw him. He was googling the answers.

Me: Huh.

Hank: Normally there is always someone with you when you take a test, but for some reason, I don’t know why he was given the test and left alone so he just used his phone. I mean, I told the librarian, but she said his teacher knew what was going on and not to worry about it, but my friends and I were, like, so upset because that wasn’t right. He should have studied.

Me: Agreed, but Hank, you don’t know the situation. You informed someone of your concerns and that is all you can do.

Hank: I was thinking of speaking to someone else tomorrow. I mean, it isn’t right!

Me: Was the boy physical harming himself or others?

Hank: No.

Me: Was he destroying property?

Hank: No.

Me: Was he creating an unsafe or disruptive environment?

Hank: No.

Me: Was he intentionally spreading a highly contagious communicable disease that could decimate the population?

Hank: Mom!

Me: Hank, you did your policing; you informed an adult and that is all you should do. I know you are a rule follower, but not everyone is like you. In life you will meet people who haven’t earned their place in the world and that isn’t fair, but trust me, that boy will suffer later if he doesn’t know the information on that exam. His laziness will cost him in the future, so there is no need to be a vigilante.

Hank: I just think it is unfair.

Me: Life isn’t fair.

Hank: But (pause)…

Me: Is that boy your friend?

Hank: No, he’s a sixth grader.

Me: All the more reason to not take this further. It isn’t your business, you informed an adult of what you saw and now his cheating is between him and his teacher.

Hank: (frustrated sigh) But why didn’t he just study?

Me: What if he did, but in being left alone he was far too tempted by his access to the internet to prove he knew the material?

Hank: I would never do that. I would never cheat.

Me: And I respect your decision, but no one is asking you to police your school and prosecute wrongdoing. Are you Batman?

Hank: Mom, no.

Me: You did the right thing speaking with the librarian, but you also need to trust the adult you informed to handle the situation further. Only in cases of marginalization, neglect, abuse, violence, impending doom and or natural disaster do you push forward.

Hank: But it’s wrong.

Me: I agree.

Hank:

Me: Okay, I will tell you a story. A couple of years ago I had to get a blood draw and that blood draw had to be sent to Porto for analysis. It was arranged that I would just pop into the pathology lab at the hospital at the earliest appointment possible and dash in, have my blood drawn and dash out. It was all arranged. So I show up and I am the first one in line, but I didn’t have the same paperwork as the other people waiting in line so they assumed I was cheating and jumping in front of them, but I wasn’t Portugal people with certain illness, diseases and ages get to the front of the line.

Hank: Like babies.

Me: Exactly, but I didn’t look like I fit the criteria to jump the queue so a group of people, men and women, started demanding they see my appointment card and when the techs and I explained the situation and that I had priority because of my RA/AS they didn’t accept our answer and got rowdy and loud and accused me of cheating, saying I was lying and was probably a doctor’s daughter and being given special treatment.

Hank: That is so rude.

Me: Exactly! Then someone went and got a security guard and he got involved and questioned the techs and I again why I was jumping to the front of the line.

Hank: But you weren’t jumping.

Me: Yes, but the people assembled weren’t listening and decided to police the situation to get justice for being the second, third, fourth and fifth people in line instead of simply being one spot higher up the chain. It got so bad that the men that had their blood draws just after mine even walked behind me and insulted my limp and accused me of faking it for sympathy literally all the way home. They followed me to the door of our building loudly heckling me and accusing me of being a liar.

Hank: I think I remember this. You were so upset.

Me: I was and here’s the thing: I wasn’t upset when they raised their concerns in line, but I was mortified when they took their policing of me to the security guard and then to the streets. Even if I was cheating, which I wasn’t, was it all necessary? They had made their poor opinion of me and the situation known, they spoke with staff from the hospital and then with security, but in the end took it too far.

Hank: YES!

Me: Do you understand what I mean now about being a vigilante? There are a precious few moments in life when it is necessary to interfere, but there are far more small moments where it isn’t and your interference will be more harm than good.

Hank: Okay. I understand what you mean now. I don’t have to like the cheating, but I did what I could and I don’t want to take it too far.

Me: Exactly. Pick your battles, Hank.

Hank: I should save my battles for when I am needed.

Me: (nodding)

Hank: Okay, I understand now, thanks mom.

You’ve been in love with Loki since you could remember, but you are so done with what this thing has become.  You used to be good friends with your rival, but now she’s pulling out all the stops in her pursuit of the crown – not Loki.  You know for a fact – by her own words – that she cares nothing for him, no matter that she simpers all over him in public – all she wants is to be a Princess of the Realm, and, if she can manoeuvre it somehow, Queen one day.

She’s tattling to the press about you, anonymously, of course, all of the confidences you shared with her – although luckily not the big one you’d shared with no one - making you seriously regret having done so, making you question just who it is that you can trust – which seems to be no one.

And what is worse is that she’s succeeded in her intent.  You want nothing to do with this circus – you never have.  It will kill you, but you’ll let Loki go rather than stoop to her level or fight with her publically in any way that might reflect badly on Loki or the Royal Family.

So you go to Frigga, with whom you are much closer than your opponent, and tell her discreetly, and with obvious reluctance you really can’t conceal very well, that you wish to withdraw your name from consideration.

She knows – you don’t know how, but you feel she does, even though you’ve never uttered a word to anyone - how much you love him, and hugs you tightly, empathizing with you about the agonizing decision you feel you’ve had to make.

It was the coward’s way out, you admit – going to his Mother rather than to him - but your emotions are so jumbled and you’re in so much pain; you’re not at all sure you could trust yourself not to either break down completely in his presence or throw yourself at him, and neither of those reactions is at all acceptable.

So you absent yourself from court completely – immediately after having spoken to Frigga - going back to Midgard, where you were raised by your adoptive parents, to spend some time alone by the sea.

You’re just settling into the cottage your parents left you on the shores of the Atlantic, facing the side of the bed while you unpack your suitcase, when you realize with a tingle up your spine that you are not alone in the room.

Turning around, you see him standing there, in full regalia, looking what you suspect is deliberately intimidating and severely perturbed, his face as dark as one of his brother’s thunderclouds.