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artificialqueens · 2 years

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Galactica, Chapter 103 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Fame agreed to an interview with Vogue to get back at her former best friend and current nemesis, Bianca Del Rio, and Raja witnessed a suspicious interaction between Violet and Tatianna at the Galactica casting.

This Chapter: New York Fashion Week kicks off with model mayhem, a savvy and beautiful journalist, a cocktail party, and some unexpected carnage.

***

“Your phone?” Bimini looked over her shoulder, a young brunette model standing behind her. She was stirring a big pot of oatmeal, the kitchen filled with girls at varying stages of awake. “Well I’m sure it’s here somewhere-“ She was cut off, as noise erupted from the hallway.

“Shit.” Bimini dropped the spoon, rushing out to see two girls fighting just outside the bathroom.

She was never having kids. Ever

“Girls! Girls!” Bimini forced herself between them, beyond grateful that she hadn’t put in earrings “Break it up!”

She couldn’t understand them, both girls shouting in some Eastern European language, trying to get past her to get to each other, “Ow! No hair pulling!”

Bimini was definitely asking for extra compensation once this was all over.

Fashion Weeks were usually chaotic, Elite flying girls in from all over the world to see if they could make it on the America market.

This Fashion Week, however, seemed like it was going to be especially chaotic, since the apartment was completely overbooked, girls sleeping on air mattresses and couches because construction had been severely extended on two other apartments and by the time anyone realized how bad it was, every hotel from here to Newark was completely full.

“Okay! That’s enough!” Bimini finally got them apart, really wishing she had taken the time to make that bathroom schedule last night, when Gigi peeked around the corner into the hallway.

“Bimini?” Gigi bit her lip, an unsure note in her tone. “I think the oatmeal is burning.”

“So stir it!”

“Okay!” Gigi’s head disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and for a second, Bimini felt bad for almost snapping, Gigi so sensitive when it came down to it.

She was just about to go back to the kitchen to salvage the oatmeal, and see if Gigi needed reassurance, when she heard a loud groan coming from the living room. Bimini walked in, hoping not to see another disaster. Thankfully, all she spotted was one of the models, turning their suitcase inside out.

Tia was wearing a tight, distressed denim dress, fishnet tights, long braids with beads spilling over her shoulder.

“Everything okay sweetheart?”

“No.” Tia threw some of her hair over her shoulder, her nails long in a way Bimini knew Sutan would never allow her during a replacement casting week, but not every agent at Elite was as diligent and focused on details as hers was, and some houses did like their girls to have more personality. “I can’t find my portfolio!”

The majority of the models that resided with them were new hires, girls who had yet to make their big break, or any break for that matter, so they were in New York to fill in whatever holes showed up, Tia one of them.

“Come have some breakfast,” Bimini tried for a reassuring smile, knowing how important it was for the models to have at least something in their stomachs, “And I’ll help you look after.”

***

“It’s true!” Shea exclaimed, grinning at the beaming smile on Miss Fame’s face. “That’s why I pitched this story, even though everyone told me you’d never agree to it in a million years.”

“Well…I suppose you proved them wrong,” she said, with a conspiratorial wink. They were sitting on the white couch in Fame’s office at Galactica, a full breakfast spread on the coffee table, a few pieces of fruit on Fame’s plate.

“I heard that!” Shea laughed. Now that she was here, she wasn’t sure why she had been so nervous leading up to this interview.

Miss Fame was known as an ice queen, and she had been overly formal for the first few minutes, but once they started talking about her inspiration for this year’s runway (along with Shea’s personal favorite Galactica shows from past seasons), she’d loosened up completely.

Shea had been prepared to spend days cracking through an icy exterior only to have Fame melt the second the words ‘aubergine silk’ slipped from her lips, beaming with pride at the mention of their 2012 spring line.

Fame was funny, present and interesting, her blue eyes following Shea’s with complete attention. She was also beautiful, not a hair out of place, blonde strands touching her chin, perfect red lips slightly parted. Her hands were adorned with jewels and folded neatly in her lap, a red sole peeking out from underneath her heels, Fame wearing sparkling white without looking like a bride.

“Another reason I was obsessed with that show,” Shea said, “is that, in a way, it was like an anniversary show for you, right? Since you were in the American View show in 2002?”

“Yes, that’s true,” Fame agreed, nodding and taking a small sip of her coffee, the cup not the standard white porcelain Shea was used to seeing in corporate offices, but instead what looked like handmade ceramic. Fame put it down, thinking for a moment before thoughtfully adding, “It was quite an honor to be in that show.”

“You know, I must admit, as much research as I did for this, well before the assignment was approved…” At this, Fame smiled again, making Shea feel brave enough to continue, “...though you’ve discussed the show itself, I’ve never actually heard you discuss the lead-up…”

“Well…” Fame paused, furrowing her brow, and for a second Shea worried that she’d spoiled all their built-up trust by prying too deeply too early. “It’s not an easy thing to talk about.”

“Right. Of course,” Shea agreed quickly. “And of course you don’t have to if you’re not comfortable.”

“It’s not that, exactly. It’s just that…” Fame moved on the couch, recrossing her legs to the other side. “It seems rather petty to talk about our runway show being canceled when so many people died.”

Fashion Week in 2002 had been unlike any other in history. Halfway through the week, when 9/11 devastated New York City, all of the remaining shows were canceled - for obvious reasons. And Miss Fame was right. To frame that cancellation as some kind of horrible loss could seem tone deaf at best and utterly insensitive at worst.

“No one would think you were comparing it to a national tragedy,” Shea said, “But you must have invested quite a lot of time and energy into it, since that would have been your first show.”

“We did,” Fame said, drumming her fingers on her leg, her red nails beautiful against the white. “And fortunately for us, we’d done this absolutely stunning photo shoot with all of the looks ahead of time, because we were preparing to give booklets out at the show, but those photos ended up being the basis of our first website instead.”

“I assume that’s what made Vogue take notice?” Shea asked. Vogue’s editorial board had very quickly arranged for a big group show to feature some of the young designers who’d had their events canceled, the show that became the famous American View show that launched Galactica.

“Yes, it was…and also, I did know someone working at Vogue at the time who I’m sure put in a good word for us.”

Shea nodded, trying not to give away in her expression that she knew the ‘someone’ Fame spoke of was Bianca Del Rio. Besides Miss Fame’s infamously reserved approach to the press, one of the reasons Shea’s colleagues said she’d never do this interview was her close friendship with BDR, now editor-in-chief of Marie Claire, who’d managed to snatch every exclusive with Fame for the past 7 years, at least.

Shea also knew though, that since Bianca had shown up to the Galactica holiday party with Miss Fame’s then-assistant on her arm, that the two of them hadn’t been seen in public together once.

Shea wasn’t an idiot. She knew damn well that something was going on, and if that something helped her get the most plumb interview of the year, she wasn’t above using it—something she was certain that BDR would do herself if she could.

“When we heard about the show, of course we were beyond thrilled and grateful to even be considered, much less selected to participate. I still remember putting together the lookbook for them,” she said with a chuckle. “We thought it was such an insane longshot. But they liked it, and…the rest is history.”

“I honestly can’t believe that you managed to create such iconic looks for your very first runway,” Shea gushed, eyes sparkling. She knew she was laying it on thick, but Miss Fame appeared to be fine with it—probably because everything she said was true. Galactica’s 5-piece mini-collection had been the undisputed star of the American View show, and when they won the first CFDA Vogue Fashion Fund two years later, not a single soul was surprised.

“I had a lot of creative energy built up inside of me, and Raja…people don’t realize what a shrewd editorial eye she has. How clever she is. I think she’s still one of the most innovative minds in fashion today—I’m extremely fortunate to have crossed paths with her when I did.”

“I’m sure she feels the same way.”

“I hope so!” Fame replied with a silky laugh, adding, “Because I can’t imagine doing this with anyone else.”

The first time Nicky met Shea, they were at Gustavino’s for a Dior launch party, after which a group of them ended up at some little after-hours club in Chinatown, where they partied well into the early morning. She couldn't remember exactly, but she had vague memories of them making out at one point. However, the next time they saw each other, it was nothing but professional.

They’d crossed paths a few more times while she was with Tory Burch, and Nicky was always very impressed with Shea’s charm, sharp sense of humor, and edgy fashion sense. She almost laughed when she saw her today, because it was by far the most conservative outfit she’d ever seen on her—it may as well have been a Chanel suit complete with pillbox hat and string of pearls.

When Nicky entered Fame’s office to bring them another round of coffee (and to remind them that they needed to leave shortly for Bryant Park), Fame looked surprised.

“Is it 10:30 already?” she asked, looking at the delicate antique watch on her wrist. “Where has the time gone?”

“Time flies when you’re talking to your new bestie,” Shea said, and Fame let out a girlish laugh.

“I suppose so!”

“Well, we’ll let you besties know when the car is downstairs,” Nicky said, shutting the door behind her to find Violet pacing around.

“How did she look? Stressed? Anxious?” Violet asked, wringing her hands.

“No, she looked…quite content, actually.” Nicky shrugged, and Violet groaned. “Are you okay?”

“No!” Violet said in a whisper, shaking her head. “This is a terrible idea. Fame’s just trying to get back at Bianca, and-”

“Well, it seems alright,” Nicky said. She truly understood Violet’s concern. Ever since learning how deep the rift really was between Miss Fame and Bianca Del Rio, she’d also been on the lookout for potential problems. This Vogue exclusive was a very obvious revenge plot, given the deep animosity between BDR and Anna Wintour. But Nicky also knew that Shea was a consummate professional, and Miss Fame seemed to be enjoying her company far more than she anticipated. She was certainly more relaxed than Nicky had ever observed her in a televised interview setting. “They were both smiling and laughing, I don’t think you need to worry-”

“Okay…okay, that’s…weird. But good. I guess.” Violet sighed. Not worrying was probably impossible for her, poor girl. “Now we have to focus on getting her downstairs so that we’re not late for Iris van Herpen.”

“We won’t be late. I just gave her a warning-”

“We can’t be sure. Traffic is supposedly out of control today. I’m gonna check on the car again.” Violet walked back around to her desk, picking up the phone to call the driver.

“I know it’s bad, but breathe. Worst case, we’ll get on the subway.”

“What?” Violet looked up, a horrified expression on her face. “Yeah. Right. We’ll get her on the subway,” Violet’s tone was as dry as the Sahara desert. “And how are you going to explain the stench of urine? Immersive performance art?”

Nicky snorted with laughter. “I’m going to use that someday, for sure.”

***

Violet walked into the party, looking around in an attempt to spot Fame’s blonde head. Her boss didn’t need to see her, or more accurately, didn’t want to see her, but Violet still needed to stay close by, had to wait the customary 15 minutes to make sure that everything was okay before she left.

She wasn’t sure if it would be needed today though, Shea and Fame having a suspiciously good time together, Violet wondering to herself several times throughout the day if someone had body snatched her boss. Sure, it looked like Fame, but Violet had never seen her so interested in someone, so willing to share her perspective with someone who was essentially a stranger—and worse, a stranger in the press.

Violet was dead on her feet, her ankle aching in her high heels, but she had still told Nicky to go home, that she’d take care of this. Nicky had tried to protest, but Violet didn’t want her to burn out, couldn’t deal with it if Nicky went down the same road as Courtney. Besides, she knew that there must be dozens of parties Nicky would rather go to than one with their bosses.

Violet was considering whether or not she would have time for a glass of champagne, if it’d be wise to try and dim the pain with alcohol, when she heard a familiar voice say her name.

“Violet!”

She turned around, spotting Sutan who was walking towards her, a big smile on his face. He was a sight for sore eyes, so wonderfully familiar and known. He wasn’t wearing his usual suits, Sutan making a pitstop at home to change into the tightfitting shirt with swirling shades of red and blue that he was wearing.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Sutan pulled her into a one-armed hug, holding his drink to the side as he pressed a kiss against her cheek. “What a delightful surprise.”

“Hi,” she smiled, biting her lip and trying to remember if she had seen any cameras, if she could steal a kiss from her boyfriend's lips, when she noticed that someone was standing right behind him.

Karl Westerberg had his arms crossed, a bored expression on his face. He was wearing a burgundy suit, a streak of white in his hair. It reminded Violet of Cruella De Ville, a cartoon villain from one of the few movies she had actually liked as a child, something equally sinister about Karl, though the white did suit his appearance.

“Do you have time for a drink?” Sutan pulled back, his free hand gliding down to her elbow, his fingers closing around it. “Karl and I only just hit the bar-”

“Umh,” Violet looked around, remembering that she was supposed to keep an eye on Fame. “I-” Where was Fame? Her phone was silent, but that didn’t mean that everything was okay. “I have to-”

“Sutan,” Karl drawled, “It seems like your girlfriend has better things to do than hang around with us.”

Violet knew she hadn’t made the best impression on Karl at the Christmas Party, the pain in her foot absolutely killing her during that whole disastrous night, but she hadn’t expected the bitter tone from him, hadn’t imagined the blatant display of disinterest.

“Ow, don’t be like that.” Sutan laughed, completely ignoring Karl, who was looking directly at Violet, not an ounce of excitement on his face. “You’re not busy, right lovely eyes?” Sutan squeezed her elbow, an almost pleading tone in his deep voice. “Just one drink.”

Violet knew Sutan was leaving for Europe, knew that in 5 short days she wouldn’t see him for three whole weeks. She didn’t want to intrude, didn’t want to have Karl as an enemy, but she wanted to miss out on time with Sutan even less, so she took a deep breath, looking up at her boyfriend.

“I can have one drink.”

“Yay.” Karl interjected, completely deadpan as he emptied his cocktail.

Detox was considering whether or not he wanted a third whiskey, when he heard his name being yelled.

“De!”

No one called Detox ‘De’ except his friends, and as he turned around, he saw Fame come towards him.

“Famie, hi!” Detox smiled, making sure to hold his drink away as he leaned in for a hug, barely pressing his lips against her cheeks as they exchanged kisses, careful not to mess up her makeup.

“Where’s Juju?” Fame looked up at him, her blue eyes searching his face. Sometimes, in moments like this, Detox had to commend Fame for her skincare regimen, her face still so close to the one he remembered from over 15 years ago.

“At home.” They had originally intended to go together, a party always a good excuse for some adult time, but when Juju had returned from the salon, she had gone directly for the couch and plopped down. When Detox had asked her if she needed to go change, Juju had told him to suck her dick, Owen gasping in delight at his mother’s language. “No emergencies, don’t worry.”

He wasn’t usually the one to reassure Fame—that was the girls’ job—but he had heard through Juju who had heard it from Raven that Raja had thought Sutan called about some problem with their mom, so he wanted to make sure that she didn’t start to make up chaos scenarios about the pregnancy, an anxious Fame a disaster to be around.

“Good,” Fame released him, taking a step back, Detox only now realizing that there was someone behind her, standing patiently at her elbow. “De, this is Shea, Shea, please meet Matthew Sanderson. Editor of OK! Magazine and one of my dearest friends.”

“Hello,” Detox held his hand out to the elegant, slightly familiar girl, unable to place her exactly but going with the flow, though he was unsure why Fame was introducing them. Fame didn’t network, that part of Galactica’s success up to Raja and Pearl. If anyone wanted anything, they came to her, so this was very out of the ordinary.

“Shea is a journalist with Vogue. She’s doing a profile on me, and covering our show this week for the magazine.” Fame punctuated her statement with a benign smile.

Ah. Detox bit the inside of his cheek, swallowing his smile. There it was. The reason Fame was acting so out of character.

Detox knew that the girls were fighting, knew that Fame and Bianca had dug deep in their separate trenches, but this, this was just the juiciest, most delicious retaliation, the drama soaring to brand new heights.

Bianca would actually shit bricks when she saw the headline in Vogue—and Detox couldn’t fucking wait. There was no way Juju wouldn’t be sleeping when he returned from the party, but he knew that she would forgive him for waking her up, when he shared the latest development in the petty war between their friends.

“And that’s why I’ll never ever drink another ounce of absinthe.” Sutan grinned, enjoying the sounds of laughter from the group he was standing with as he finished his story. A casting director he knew in passing started their own story about one too many margaritas. Sutan tried to follow, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was looking at him.

He tried to be discreet, casting a glance around the room, when he saw Violet standing against the wall, her brown eyes resting on him.

“Hey man,” Sutan tapped his neighbor on the shoulder with an open palm, speaking in a low tone, “I’m grabbing a smoke.” He didn’t wait for a reply to leave, Violet drawing him in like she was emitting a siren call.

She was beautiful as always, something so delightfully prim and proper about her when she was dressed up in full assistance mode, the dark desire to mess her up and make her beg briefly rearing its head.

“Hey.” Sutan leaned against the wall next to her, looking out at the crowd, knowing that Violet wouldn’t appreciate it if he acted too familiar with her.

“Hey.” The corner of Violet’s mouth crinkled upwards, a smile playing on her lips. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Sutan couldn’t help the shocked expression, Violet’s words not at all what he was expecting.

“Mmh.” Violet nodded. “Fame told me I’m dismissed for the night, so I’m going home.”

“Home?” When Sutan had bumped into Violet, he had expected her to spend the night, to get the chance to have some time with his girlfriend since the universe had decided to throw them together.

“Are you just repeating everything I’m saying?” Violet looked up at him, one of her eyebrows raised, a displeased frown on her face.

“Yes.” Sutan caught himself, realizing what he had just said. “I mean no. I mean. Are you going home? Seriously? I thought you were coming back to mine.” Saying it out loud, Sutan could hear how pathetic it sounded, how wistful his voice was, but he couldn’t help it.

He wanted it, and he wanted it badly.

“Are you ready to leave?” Violet tilted her head towards the party, and Sutan looked out at it.

“No. Maybe, I don’t-” He wasn’t ready to leave, wasn’t anywhere near being able to get out, since he was still cleaning up after the Raven incident. Telling stories of past parties, shaking hands and sharing drinks probably didn’t seem like work from the outside, but it was work, getting invited to the right art shows, the right restaurant openings and the right club launches the exact thing that saved an agent's reputation when something like a Raven debacle went down. “I can try to be quick, but-”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Violet got on her toes, pressing a quick peck into his cheek before pushing away from the wall to leave. “I’ll see you.”

Sutan reached up, touching his cheek, a wave of regret washing through him as he watched Violet walk away.

He knew they had plans later in the week, knew that he’d see her before leaving for Europe, but he had to admit that it stung like hell to feel like he had just been dismissed by his own girlfriend.

Raja was chewing on her straw. It was a terrible habit, but it was either that, or spewing the venom she had brewing in her gut.

Raja had just seen Violet walk away from her brother, the wounded look on Sutan’s face grating on her nerves. She knew that some people thought she was overly sensitive, that she and her twin were too close, but Raja couldn’t stomach seeing Sutan hurt, her heart breaking when he was upset or distressed.

Sutan loved Violet, or at least, he believed that he loved her, and while it seemed like Violet was being truthful with her brother, Raja just couldn’t get the brief scene between Violet and the model out of her head.

No straight girl looked at another woman like that, no straight girl blushed that prettily, looked so shy, acted as awkward as Violet had.

Raja didn’t know what Violet’s angle was yet, didn’t know what long con she was playing, whether she was using her brother for fame, money or simple connections still unclear.

Part of Raja had wanted to tell Sutan immediately that Violet was bad news, but she hadn’t found the way in yet, didn’t know how to make Sutan understand that she was protecting him instead of ‘just spreading untrue rumors Raja,’ her brother stupidly loyal to the people he deluded himself with.

Raja bit through the straw, the black plastic digging into her tongue. She’d make a plan, and force her brother to see that Violet couldn’t be trusted.

***

Trixie pushed the door to his office, flicking on the light and stepping inside while unhooking his fanny pack so he could throw it on the couch.

He didn’t need to be here, the office completely empty, but he had to check his emails, and since Katya had fallen pregnant he couldn’t concentrate when she was home, all his attention going directly to her.

Trixie walked over to his desk, expecting a few bits and bobs to have gathered there during the day, all kinds of samples, paperwork and trinkets collecting at lightning speed. What he hadn't expected was a thick white paper folder, bits of fabric sticking out of it.

Trixie picked it up, a small smile on his lips. When Violet had turned in her initial pitch for Raja’s Met Gala look, he didn’t think they’d get it back so soon.

Raja had obviously been restless and nervous, since she had to have taken it home with her to go over it, Fashion Weeks sometimes doing that to her.

Trixie opened the folder, his smile disappearing as he flicked through.

Raja had crossed out the majority of the reference pictures, thick red sharpie notes and circles littered all over the pages, covering Violet’s careful handwriting.

It was never a good sign when Raja tore something apart this much, and while Trixie hoped she had just looked at it while she was in a bad mood, it became more and more clear that it wasn’t the case as he finished reading Raja’s feedback.

Trixie was disappointed, but if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t that surprised. It seemed like it had been a collective decision amongst his designers to have Violet attempt to design for Raja, and while he did listen to his staff, Trixie had instantly been weary of the idea.

It didn’t have anything to do with Violet’s diligence or her work ethic, Trixie completely confident that she could handle almost anything he threw at her, but at their core, Raja and Violet had polar opposite design aesthetics.

Violet’s work was so delicate and refined, almost dream-like in its softness, the already ingrained signature palette and style so rare for such a young designer, Violet’s voice crisp and clear, but it didn’t fit Raja.

Raja was edges and jewel tones, deep saturated colors and outfits that made her look like a boss bitch no one dared fuck with, balancing on the edge of modesty and sex. Jovan was much more in her wheelhouse, but they always butted heads when they had to work directly, Jovan refusing to compromise his visions.

Trixie put the folder down. He could give it back to Violet, could give her a chance to get it right, but he didn’t want to. Violet would twist herself into a knot over it, maybe even compromise what she did best in a misguided attempt to do what she thought was needed.

Trixie made a quick decision, grabbing a pink sharpie to write out Aurora’s name, three layers of handwriting on the paper.

He’d give the concept to his newest hire, the British punk twist that he knew Aurora could grow into probably exactly what Raja needed.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #vitan #bimini bon boulash #shea coulee #miss fame #nicky doll #violet chachki #raja gemini #manila luzon #detox icunt #trixie mattel #gigi goode #tia kofi #lesbian au #fashion au

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quercus-queer · 4 years

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BA’s Reckoning

Yes, I stole this title from the Sporkful podcast. You should check it out!

So just a reminder the whole thing that kicked this off was when Tammie Teclemariam tweeted the photo of Rapoport in brown face (yes its brown face its a purposeful caricature of Puerto Rican ppl, his girlfriend called him her papi in the caption as well) saying he should simply write the article on Puerto Rican food then (the issue was Illyanna Maisonet, a Puerto Rican food writer, got rejected rudely by Rapo for her pitch to write about Puerto Rican food) Which brings up the larger issue of BA being racist and not covering any other dishes besides Eurocentric ones, and the ones that aren't Eurocentric are almost always either whitewashed or done by white people which is what happened with Masionet’s article (this is where Amanda Shapiro and Meryl Rothstein come in).

This led to a zoom meeting where Rapo made a shitty apology leading Sohla El-Waylly’s instagram posts, where she condemns Rapo, talks about her 50k salary despite having 15 years of restaurant experience (She ran a fucking restaurant and 50k in NYC is pathetic), being hired to help white editors, and not being paid for ANY of her video appearances (none of the poc you see in videos have been compensated including the zoom videos). Which has led to many people at BA being exposed for being terrible (Conde Nast is the parent company and owns BA, Vogue, Architectural Digest, Allure, Glamour, Wired, Epicurious,Teen Vogue among other things... also take note how most of these have consistently been criticized for their racism or “race problems”)

ANYWAY here’s a general guide of what each BA person has done, this is in no way comprehensive, feel free to investigate on your own, always fact check and form your own opinions!

Adam Rapoport: Brown face, not paying his non-white employees for their video appearances, treating his assistant Ryan Walker-Hartshorn (a black woman) like shit (she was working overtime and was barely making rent with what he was paying her), he's sexist (see every video with Molly) and racist (mixing up Sohla and Priya Krishna and never apologizing) and more!

Check out the Business Insider piece, twitter (Tammie’s, Christina Chaey’s, and Priya’s), Sohla’s podcast and interviews, and someone made a compilation of Rapo being condescending I think

Matt Duckor: Disgusting, racist, homophobic, sexist all around terrible person, probably the most obviously terrible of the bunch (see Rick Martinez’s insta plus Duckor’s own tweets), strung along Sohla for months saying that her pay was “stuck in legal” so that she would keep appearing in videos, gave Sohla a contract when this stuff first started happening to try and shut her up, HE is the one deciding pay for everyone at BA and was the one not paying poc for video appearances.

Check out Rick’s Insta, Twitter for Duckor’s tweets (screenshots bc he deleted his account)

Carla Lalli Music: First off, ppl are pointing out she was condescending af to a lot of her guests on her show (except for the white ones). The racism at BA did not start nor stop with Adam Rapoport and guess who was editor in chief before him? Yup, Mrs. Carla Lalli Music! Necessary amendment: Carla was the food director NOT the editor in chief and she is currently an editor at large... still a powerful position though and I think the sentiment still stands. She had a pretty pathetic twitter thread about how she should’ve done more but was focused on the sexism/focusing on women, strange because she also sent that shitty email to two women along with Delany and Brad after the two of them, Delany, and Brad were talking in the kitchen, telling them not to enter the kitchen without permission (not enforced on Brad or Delany obviously, only the two women who happen to not be white) I misread the article, Brad was a part of the convo, he did NOT receive the email, and didn't respond to the articles request for comment.. he fucking works in the test kitchen, i’m an idiot and that's on me

Business insider and her twitter

Alex Delany: I have a post with the screenshots of the confederate flag cake he made himself because he felt the “need to express some southern heritage in cake form. Such a glorious cake...” for his friend moving to South Carolina, the lovely vine with the classic “F*g is a bundle of sticks joke” also have a post discussing that, he’s wildly underqualified for DRINKS editor and overpaid, also his girlfriend is Allegra Lorenzotti whose mother Eva Lorenzotti, is in Jeffery Epstein’s black book which is concerning (though who knows maybe Delany is dating a different wealthy Allegralo), also those sexist tweets

I have screenshots from Tumblr, ppl have the vine on twitter along with the sexist tweets (he deleted his twitter and Tumblr btw)

Andy Baraghani: There are screenshots of Alyse Whitney’s (an asian woman) twitter thread saying Andy purposefully undercut her articles multiple times because of a petty feud with Antoni from Queer Eye by using his friendship with Amanda Shapiro (Whitney’s editor) to kill the story, which is shitty and brings up the bigger picture of BA being cliquey and getting in with a friend of a friend and such which is just a toxic work environment

Amanda Shapiro: Puerto Rican food article, Alyse Whitney’s articles, she’s a perpetuator of the toxic work environment, stealing Nikita Richardson’s work and getting credit and pay for it (pls check out her twitter and the articles with her), also racist, should not be in charge

Chris Morocco: Made one (1) basic post (simply a reply to Molly calling him out actually) at the beginning of all this agreeing to not be in anymore videos until his coworkers got paid/backpay, he said he was complicit (duh) but also that he had no idea this was happening, but guess what? He is the one that hired Sohla for only 50k! There is a whole can of worms about how little Sohla was hired for despite her experience plus talent along with her current pay and Chris is a part of that. Also both his gumbo video and Halo Halo recipe are downright disrespectful at BEST and they should not have had a white man doing them (again with the white people doing articles/videos that can be EASILY given to someone whose actually part of that culture) and before anyone says anything yes the gumbo was for Chris’s show (strange how only white ppl get shows or in Andy’s case unless you’re friends with a higher up) still doesn't make the video less disrespectful, also he’s SAID he is friends with Anna Wintour (head of vogue, and a racist “there’s no room for black women” the reason the vogue challenge is happening)

Brad Leone: Himbo status permanently revoked, “Brad who just found out racism is real”(Sohla said this in the Sporkful podcast) is NOT acceptable for a 35 year old white man whose coworkers are suffering in a clearly toxic work environment, the screenshot with “I didn’t sign her contract she did” is NOT how you respond to your coworker being underpaid and disrespected by the company she works at because she is not a white man. I do not like him anymore, he has made apologies but ignorance to this extent is willful and I don't completely buy it the rumors he was upset Delany was going to be fired/would quit if Delany was fired/was mad at Sohla is not something I was able to confirm but based off of what I’ve seen he really needs to prove himself to be better, he can stay if that’s what his coworkers want but he is on thin fucking ice

Stuff I can't accredit to a single person, but BA is racist:

NIKITA RICHARDSON, pls check her out on twitter

They sent Sohla to interview black chefs (bc BA has a bad track record) because she was the darkest and there were literally NO black chefs working at BA

Making Priya only cook Indian dishes (which were kinda whitewashed) I actually think this may have been Duckor

Tokenizing the poc staff (they would make them be in the kitchen when filming the white hosts shows and push them in front of the camera to highlight nonexistent diversity)

Paying Hawa Hassan only $400 for her video (probs also Duckor)

#bon appetit #bon appétit test kitchen #sohla el waylly #adam rapoport #brad leone #alex delany #alex delaney #chris morocco #andy baraghani #matt duckor #carla lalli music #priya krishna #Nikita richardson #hawa hassan #god this got long and there is more

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adarlingwrites · 3 years

Text

Dormouse

Summary:

After playing a game with two of The Beach's most dangerous members, the dormouse gets her tail caught by a tiger's paw.

He’ll make a wildcat out of her.

Author’s Notes: Edit 4/27/2021: Modified a few scenes and added more bits of conversation!

TWs/CWs: mentions of past abuse, abusive parents, noncon elements courtesy of Niragi

III

hey girl, open your walls / play with your dolls / we'll be a perfect family

A tense silence had befallen the car.

Niragi had finally kept his mouth shut while Saiko drove in peace. Last Boss is staring blankly ahead, and Yamane’s sneaking wary glimpses at him. Across the horizon, the Seaside Paradise Tokyo comes into view, and Yamane almost jumps out of her seat.

“The Beach is Seaside Paradise?” she asks no one in particular, mouth agape as they approached. The walls had been spray painted red with the katakana for “Beach”, and Yamane can feel the bass pounding through her chest, even from their distance.

“What, a rat like you never been to a place this fancy before?” Saiko interrupts.

“...my father used to bring me with him while speaking to his business partners in the resort. The resort got their amenities from his company,” Yamane mutters in response, averting her gaze and choosing to look out the window again.

At her admission, Niragi and Saiko turn to her. “Was that company by any chance called Yamacorp? Oh, don’t tell me…” Niragi starts, smirking. Saiko is squinting, and after halting the car, she reaches back to squeeze Yamane’s face, taking a good look at her.

“You’re that disgraced Yamacorp heiress,” Saiko blurts out, letting go of Yamane’s face and setting her eyes on the road again. “Now I know why your name seemed familiar. Shit, and I almost didn’t recognize you because of your getup. Your story was all over the tabloids.”

The admission opened a can of worms and Yamane grimaced at herself. As she slumped back to her seat, she groans and leans her head against the backrest in resignation. “Can we not bring that up?”

“The tabloids said you flunked all your classes in university because you partied too much, and your parents cut you off, then you started sucking old men’s dicks so you can still afford all that shit you put on your face,” Saiko continues, smirking, not paying any heed to the other woman’ request. At that point, Yamane’s temper is starting to simmer underneath her stony expression.

“All the tabloids ever publish are sensationalist bullshit, and I already had the feeling that you’re the type to eat that all up without a second thought. I suggest you shut the hell up before I ruin your pretty face with my good arm.”

Brakes screeching, Saiko sneers and points a gun at Yamane’s face. “Niragi, control your new pet. She’s getting too mouthy.”

“Don’t tell me what to fucking do. Get her to shut up yourself,” Niragi says in response, pointing the barrel of his rifle at her, and his tongue slips out of his mouth, licking his sneering lips.

“I mean it,” Yamane challenges, temper flaring further.

Fingers itching for the dagger on her hip, Yamane gives the other woman a good look. Saiko’s taller, legs running for miles from what she can see; if the circumstances were different, she would’ve been Yamane’s type. It doesn’t matter if it’s a man or a woman, she preferred the tall ones. However, Saiko is being unnecessarily hostile. Being held against her will, coupled with the pain from her injury gave Yamane the urge to carve her face off.

She shudders at her own thoughts. They’re not a stable person’s urges.

“Take her word for it.” Last Boss says, and everyone’s attention shifts to him. Then, he turns to Yamane. “Yamaneko killed a man in our game, and assisted me with another.”

Upon hearing the new moniker, Yamane turns to the tattooed man, her eyes meeting his. The backrest is still warm when she leans back and looks away. “Wildcat? At least it’s better than ‘rat’,” she thought. She still didn’t expect it to come from Last Boss, of all people.

“Shut up and drive already,” Niragi scolds Saiko, and she rolls her eyes at him as she withdraws the gun from Yamane’s face. Fuming, Saiko steps on the gas and they continue speeding towards the Beach.

“So, are the rumors true though? Did you really suck dick to survive?” Saiko asks.

“What’s this, an interview? You don’t have one, so I guess you’ll never know. Next question.”

Niragi snickers, mumbling something to himself, while Saiko rolls her eyes.

“For some sheltered princess from a rich-ass family, you seem awfully calm with a gun pointed to your face. Care to share why?” she comments.

“Okay, interview’s over. I’m done talking about a life I’ve already left behind.”

To Yamane’s relief, the car was quiet once more. However, the thoughts of home continued to linger in her mind.

“Hey oneechan, when are you going to come visit?”

Truth be told, Yamane didn’t know what to say. All the other person on the other side of the line can hear is silence.

“Are you there?”

“Yeah. I’m still here Mai,” replied Yamane, barely concealing the crack in her voice. “You know why I can’t go home again.”

“Mom is dead. Her funeral is tomorrow.”

Breathing in deep, the exiled daughter closes her eyes. “Mai, the last time she saw me, she slashed my arm with my own sewing shears.”

“I know, I know. You know, I admire you. I didn’t think I had it in you to defy our parents. You were so… pliable. No offense, sis.”

“Well, that was how I avoided punishment. Try to please them and hope that it’ll be enough for them to lay it off.”

Mai gives her sister a nervous laugh, and the conversation almost dies. In the background, a baby’s cry pierced the quiet and left both sisters speechless. If one listens close enough, they can hear Yamane’s breath hitching in her throat.

“Mai, was that a baby? Don’t tell me you got knocked up, dammit.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s a baby. But it’s not mine. It’s dad’s. A boy, just six months old. He’s our little brother. His name is Riku.”

Pacing around and rubbing her face, the phone squeezed between her shoulder and cheek, Yamane groans. “Well, he finally got the damn son he wanted. So father is having an affair after all. I fucking knew it!” Yamane curses, pacing around.

With frustration, she kicks the metal trash can next to the kitchen counter. “Mom didn’t even need to hire that private investigator. I stalked father and that girl for months, and the first time I brought it up, mom gave me a beating for ‘daring to speak that way about my father’. Fucking waste of money confirming what we already knew.”

On the other side of the line, Mai chokes and sobs. “Hey, sis, can you take me with you?” Mai asks with a tremor to her voice, desperate to change the topic.

At that point, Yamane can feel the headache settling in. “Mai, please, not this again. We’ve talked about this before. You’re safe where you are, don’t make the same mistakes I did. Use our parents’ resources to get ahead, then cut them off when you’re ready.”

“Yeah, I’m safe, but I’m not free, like you. Poor Riku’s life is probably going to get micromanaged by father too. I don’t want to wait anymore. You know, I think I’d rather be working like you instead of being here. It must be nice, being free from my obligations as a daughter and a sister,” Mai huffed and sniffled.

Hand curling into a fist, Yamane does her best to stay calm despite the hostile shift in Mai’s words. “Cut that shit out, Mai. I already had a lecture on how I’m a terrible daughter from mom and father. I don’t need a lecture from you about how fucked up I am, I already know that.”

“I didn’t mean for it to come out that way,” Mai defends herself. “I just mean… I can’t take it anymore, oneechan. I’m at my limit.”

After a few tense moments, Yamane speaks again.

“I’m sorry Mai. I should be there, protecting you from father, but I chose to run after my pipe dream of going into fashion design,” Yamane continues, pulling the refrigerator door open to fetch a can of beer. She squeezes the phone between her cheek and shoulder again to open it, and she takes a long swig of the bitter beverage.

“I just miss you so much. Having you around made life a little easier. You were always there to defend me.”

Eyes blank and lips stained by beer, Yamane holds back the tears, opting to clear her throat. “I miss you too.”

Mai chuckles. “Hey, don’t forget about me once your clothes are on the cover of Vogue and Nylon, okay?”

Bitterly, brokenly, Yamane laughs. What a cruel joke it was, the punchline being her wages barely covering her expenses, and the fact that her savings are almost non-existent. At that rate, fashion design school seemed like something she’ll never set foot in. Not that she’d fit in there too; street fashion had always been her thing, not haute couture.

The bitter reality of her situation made Yamane give up on her own dreams long ago, but it seems Mai never gave up on her.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll come snatch you away from father.”

“Hey, maybe I could model your designs for you. You could model them yourself too.”

“Mai, my asscheeks are too fat for me to model anything.”

Laughter echoed in Yamane’s apartment that night. That was the last call she ever had with her little sister, and now that she’s in this world full of death games, it’s almost guaranteed that she’ll never hear her voice again.

The thoughts dissolved away piece by piece as the car halted. The bass was more intense than ever. Niragi and Saiko step out of the car, and Last Boss follows suit. Saiko begrudgingly opens the door for Yamane, and as Yamane ducked to get out of the car, the taller woman clamps an arm on her good shoulder. “You better watch your back, mouse girl.”

“Is that a threat?” Yamane asks, looking her in the eye.

“Advice. This place looks like paradise, but there are serpents crawling about.”

Exhaling sharply, Yamane scoffs, and they follow the two men inside the resort. The mouse’s eyes widened at what she saw. People are drinking, partying, and fucking under the sun, and it’s not even noon. People were clinking drinks together. A naked couple walks right past them and Yamane feels her face flush.

Without warning, Last Boss kicks a speaker over, abruptly stopping the music, and Niragi shouts at the crowd.

The sea of people parted as they made their way through, onlookers wary of the armed men. Seeing how the crowd reacted with fear at their arrival made Yamane’s pulse race. These men had to be dangerous for them to draw that kind of reaction, and she is getting involved. Instinctively, Yamane wraps her arms around herself.

“Stop acting like a damn wimp,” Saiko berates her, and Yamane snaps out of it, straightening her back and walking a little more taller.

“I’ll speak to the chief for now. Get her to the Hatter,” Niragi instructs.

“Hatter?”

Then, Niragi turns to Yamane, grabs her face, and gives her a parting lick.

“You need to fucking stop that,” Yamane hisses, though her body still trembles with fear. “At least ask for some damn permission.” Niragi responded by tugging at her bad arm, and the mouse couldn’t stop the soft hiss of pain from escaping through her teeth.

“The righteous and moral have no place here, where human nature reigns. You best learn it as soon as possible if you want to last here, mousy. I can fucking drag you to my room and take you as I please if I wanted to,” he sneers in Yamane’s ear, dragging that damned tongue on the sensitive skin of her neck.

The little dormouse found herself shuddering at the contact and she hated it.

Sure, he looks good, but he’s a bastard. Yamane’s hand curls into a fist, and she looks at the other two. Saiko is smirking, the look in her face telling Yamane that she’s amused by his discomfort. On the other hand, Last Boss just stares again, mouth twitching at the corner.

To Yamane’s shock, his arm shoots out from his side, and grabs her by the elbow. His grip was strong but it wasn’t uncomfortable, and he had the decency not to go for the injured arm.

“She’s your problem now,” Saiko says nonchalantly, and walks away. Grinning, Niragi looks at his companion and walks away, rifle slung over his shoulder.

People in the hallways stayed close to the walls, whispering amongst each other as Last Boss dragged Yamane inside the building, whose legs were having trouble keeping up with his strides.

“Move, he’s one of the militants,” one of the residents whispered to another.

“Who’s he with? Someone new?”

“Probably the military sect’s fresh meat. Or a toy.”

Mouth dry, Yamane gulps at the comments. She looks up to the man holding her by the elbow, her mind racing, wondering if he’s anything like Niragi, or if he’d force himself upon her like Niragi had threatened to do.

One thing was certain, however. Yamane preferred his silence to Niragi’s loud mouth. Silence isn’t a thing she had the luxury of enjoying in her previous life.

And speaking of her previous life, it’s probably something she should stop thinking about now. Yamane needs to worry about what’s happening now. Surviving both death games and life in this “Beach” needed to be her top priority. Getting her shoulder treated is the first step, and somehow, Yamane is thankful they brought her here.

Last Boss brings her into a large room, where several people have gathered, pushing her down a chair. A man with shoulder-length hair and facial hair stands at the end of the table, grinning.

“What’s this? Another addition to our lovely paradise! Welcome to the Beach,” he announces, pacing around with his arms wide open. “I’ve heard good things about you, girl. Helping our military sect members clear a Seven of Clubs game? Quite an impressive feat for a newcomer. Who are you?”

“Minami Yamane.” She pauses. “You must be the Hatter.”

“I am indeed. And I,” he pauses, pointing to his tag, “am the number one player in the Beach.”

Yamane takes note of the tags on the Beach members’ wrists, and for the first time, sees the numbers on them. Her eyes then flick towards Last Boss’ tag. Number eight.

“What do these ranks mean? Are there benefits to them?” Yamane asks him.

“These ranks,” Hatter starts, circling Yamane, “are the order of who gets to return to the original world. I have heard from a reliable source that collecting all playing cards would grant one player the ability to go back. Then, when another set of cards are completed, the next person shall follow them.”

The red curtains in the middle of the room parts, revealing a tally of the cards the Beach has collected.

“Those who can clear more games and contribute more cards have higher ranks, and are closer to leaving this country. For helping Niragi and Last Boss clear a Seven of Clubs, we’ll consider moving your rank up higher.”

“That’ll take forever,” Yamane comments, earning her an amused grin from the number one player.

“Which is why this utopia is created so that players can combine their efforts until there are none left on the Beach,” Hatter explains, triumphantly shaking a fist. Yamane shakes her head.

”I guess it can’t be helped. Is it safe to assume that I am allowed to visit the Beach as long as I keep contributing cards?”

Hatter laughs, striding towards her. “Smart girl. You’re already figuring out how things work here. But you got one thing wrong: you’re not just a visitor. You’re a member now. And membership comes with its rules.”

The doors swing open, revealing Niragi, a few more militants, and a man who is leading them. Judging from his looks, Yamane thought he might be in law enforcement, or even the SDF.

“Ah, Aguni. You’re late,” Hatter groans. The bald man grunts and takes a seat at the table.

“I had matters to attend to,” replied Aguni, terse, gruff. Yamane couldn’t help but feel nervous.

“Sure you do,” Hatter replies, chuckling. “You’re just in time. I was about to explain the rules to the newcomer your underlings brought us.”

“The military sect’s chief,” Yamane mumbles, and Niragi steps closer to smirk at her face. “You’re figuring that out just now?” he asks, mockery dripping from his voice, and he attempts to lick Yamane’s face again. This time, she dodges, giving Niragi a glare.

“Ah, ah, as number one, I am obligated to maintain order. Niragi, back off from the little lady. We’re digressing from our purpose of being here!”

Niragi gives Hatter a dirty look and steps away from her.

“Yamane, listen closely. Rule number one, always wear a swimsuit.”

Yamane gave the leader of the Beach a bewildered look. “Huh?”

“Can’t hide weapons in a swimsuit now, can’t you? But of course, if Aguni accepts you as a member of the militants, you’ll be allowed to carry one. Isn’t that right?”

Aguni doesn’t speak, only offering him a grunt. Hatter then walks towards the windows, sunlight streaming through the curtains. “Rule number two. Be free to live your life exactly as you wish. Hell, you can drink, do drugs, have sex as much as you want!”

The prospect piqued Yamane’s interest. Freedom to live her life as she wished was something she didn’t get to enjoy in the real world.

“I accept the rules,” she declares, earning her a chuckle from a few of the members.

“Ah, but you’re getting ahead of yourself, dear Yamane. There’s a third rule. Remember what I said about you being a member of the Beach now? Membership is for life. And if you should choose to run away, hide a card from the Beach, or refuse to surrender a card to the Beach? Well…”

Last Boss gets behind Yamane’s chair, and he tilts Yamane’s head with one hand, while angling the sword under her chin with another. Yamane gulps, looking at the sharp blade that’s mere inches from her neck, and goosebumps are forming on her skin from the tattooed man’s cold fingers.

“Rule number 3. Death to traitors.”

Yamane looks up to Last Boss, then her eyes flick towards Niragi, her body trembling in indignation. “You. You two brought me here so I’ll never escape your sights,” she seethes.

“What are you talking about?” Niragi asks her, feigning innocence. “We lost a man in that club game, and we needed a replacement, remember? But I guess, now that you’re never allowed to leave, why don’t we have some fun while we’re all here?”

Refusing to give Niragi any more attention, Yamane turns to the Hatter. “I take it back. I refuse to stay here.”

“You can’t refuse the Beach now. Besides, you have an injury. Only we can help you. We have doctors, we have specialists who maintain the plumbing and electricity, and we have enough rooms. You’ll have food, medicine, and comfort here.”

Grinning, Niragi comes closer again, crouching to look the mouse in the eye. “You should be thanking us, mousy.”

Sighing, Yamane relents. “Fine.”

The Hatter smiles. Another soul is successfully lured to this “paradise”.

As the meeting adjourned, Aguni approaches Yamane, sizing her up.

“Niragi. This one better not disappoint,” he grunts. “Last Boss, get her to the clinic. She’ll be a liability with her injuries.”

At the order, Last Boss grabs Yamane by the elbow again and they set off. Yamane looks back to Niragi, then to Aguni, and proceeds to do her best to catch up with the tall, tattooed man’s strides once more.

Upon their arrival at the makeshift clinic, the bustle of the clinic fell into a hush. Patients and medics alike stop to gawk at the militant dragging a young woman inside.

He says nothing and waits by the door. A doctor wearing a red one piece swimsuit underneath a coat approaches Yamane carefully.

“How can I help you?”

“I have a dislocated shoulder,” Yamane mutters. “I need it treated so it won’t hinder my future games.”

“I’m Doctor Lilian Sunohara,” the doctor introduces herself. “If you ever get hurt in one of the games, you can come here to get yourself patched up.” Cautiously, nervously, Sunohara approaches Yamane and begins to administer her care, starting with setting her bones.

After applying a sling, Dr. Sunohara stands up and fetches a bottle of painkillers from the cabinet. Yamane couldn’t help but gawk at the stockpile of medicine. “I haven’t seen you around before,” said the doctor, voice low.

“Him and another man called Niragi brought me here,” Yamane explains. The look of concern in Sunohara’s face and the cautious look from the other patients says it all.

That’s when it finally sinks in; Yamane’s aware that she’s associated with the militants now, and people are avoiding her like the plague.

#alice in borderland #imawa no kuni no alice #fanfic: dormouse #oc: minami yamane #last boss #takatora samura #suguru niragi #fanfiction #character study

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miss-duberry · 3 years

Text

Invitation

The unexpected letter that arrived at 65 Maple Grove Circle was of considerable weight. Anna immediately spied the plum envelope while fetching the mail. It was enough to make her pause, fiddling the smooth vellum paper in her fingers. The foyer behind her was empty, and Madeleine’s things were still absent from the coat rack. Pursing her lips, the girl disappeared into her father’s study and hunted for the silver-plated letter opener her brother Elliott had gifted the old man last Christmas. Robert always kept his office a mess, which her mother detested, but the afternoon sun thankfully illuminated the silver tool to make short work of her search.

The sharp blade slipped under the envelope’s flaps with ease. Anna knew these letters were never for her, but she liked to pretend they were for fancy galas or parties thrown in her honor. She would get to wear a lavish evening gown and have her hair all done up, just like her sister Rachel always did. It was foolish to think these things, but the ten-year-old girl enjoyed her folly.

“What are you doing in papa’s study?”

The letter opener’s edge slipped at the sound of a woman’s voice, and a drop of scarlet blood darkened the rich paper underneath Anna’s fingers.

“Shit!”

The study reverberated with the sharp clacks of heels echoing off of wooden floors, and the girl knew she’d been found out. Rachel had a sixth sense for when the youngest sibling was up to something, no matter how small. It made Anna wish her older sister spent more time at her own flat versus crowding in with them. That thought wasn’t helped when two fingers pinched the girl’s earlobe, which she swatted away.

“You wouldn’t want Mama to hear that kind of language, would you?”

Rachel was more than twice her sister’s age, and it wasn’t the first time she’d caught Anna getting into trouble. The latter was sure she enjoyed playing missus of the house when their parents were out.

“You say way worse!”

“I’m an adult. I can say what I like.”

The girl stuck out her tongue.

“Now really, Anna.” Rachel’s long, slim fingers slipped the envelope away from her sister, turning it over. “I don’t know why you bother being so secretive. She always knows when you open her mail. You never seal it back up properly.”

Her green eyes scanned the addresser’s fine calligraphy on the face of the envelope, reading and then re-reading.

“I haven’t a clue who the Lecters are, do you?”

Anna shook her head, not that it mattered. Rachel had already laid the envelope down on the desk and wedged a manicured nail into the gap left by the letter opener. She made short time finishing her sister’s work. Inside, she removed a thick piece of paper followed by another, smaller envelope already bearing a stamp.

Anna sucked at the cut on her finger while her sister unfolded the letter and read.

“The Lecters graciously request your family’s presence at their first annual fundraiser benefiting the Refugee Crisis Center of Greater Baltimore. All proceeds from the event will go towards those in need, blah blah blah,” trailed Rachel, losing interest and feeling no more illuminated as to who these Lecter people actually were.

“What’s a fundraiser?”

Rachel peered through the other pages, seeing an order form for food preferences and instructions on how to send payment. Bored, she tossed the letter on the desk.

“It’s an event of some sort, usually a dinner, and everyone pays for a seat. The money goes towards some cause, but people really only care about upstaging each other. I’m sure Mama will take the opportunity to pitch Elliott and me to every eligible bachelor and bachelorette that shows.”

Her small frame bent to open a desk drawer. She held out a hand for Anna, and the girl obediently laid her finger on the open palm without asking. A bandaid was wrapped snug around the cut, and Anna tapped her thumbnail against the padding, testing its protection.

“That sounds boring.”

“It is boring. Hopefully there will be at least one or two people who liven the room so it isn’t all serious talk. You’ll likely luck out of this one and get to stay home with Marguerite, though. These things aren’t really for kids.”

Anna’s eyes brightened. She loved the Spanish nanny Madeleine hired on nights the rest of the family would be away. She always learned some new phrase and got to try fun foods she never ate at home.

Rachel repackaged the envelope and handed it to Anna.

“Mama will be so upset when she finds out you’ve opened her mail again.”

“You’re the one who opened it!”

“But you’re the one with a cut on your finger.”

Rachel paused at the office door, turning to give Anna one last look. She stuck her own tongue out, and Anna blew a raspberry in return.

---------------------------- ----------------------------

Thankfully for the youngest, Madeleine’s annoyance over the opened letter lasted only until she read who it was from.

“The Lecters? I don’t believe I’ve met them. Are they your acquaintances, Rachel?”

“I don’t believe so,” she responded, flipping through the latest copy of Vogue and barely paying the conversation any mind.

“Robert? Have you met the Lecters?” Madeleine’s voice carried down the hallway to where her husband was sitting.

“I don’t believe so,” he called back. “Maybe Elliott?”

Her mother nodded at Anna. “Fetch your brother, will you?”

The girl rolled her eyes but hopped up to do as she was told. It didn’t matter, however, as the man in question walked into the kitchen a few seconds later.

“What’s with all the yelling? Were you caught going through the mail again?”

“It wasn’t me, it was Rachel!”

“Oh not that again,” sighed their mother. “Do you know who the Lecters are?”

“Yes, I met Mrs. Lecter a couple of weeks ago at the Johns Hopkins banquet. We ended up seated next to each other, her and her son. Very smart duo, I’ll say. You two were ill with food poisoning and couldn’t attend.”

“Don’t remind me,” Rachel grimaced, thinking of the new Chinese place she’d never visit again.

“Are they from around here?”

“Lithuania, actually. I noticed an accent and couldn’t help but ask.”

“Lithuania? Is that European?”

“Western Europe.”

“So they’re not American? Interesting. Explains the charity, then.”

Elliott gave a cheeky grin and began peeling an orange. “Wasn’t it our great, great grandfather who crossed over from England?” He winked at Anna, and she giggled.

His mother leveled a look at him before moving on.

“I’ll write back that we’re attending. Let’s see what kind of party these Europeans can throw.”

#.#..#...#....#.....#[ story : invitation ]#[ partner : dottoremostro ]#this is so long and not that interesting i'm sorry!!#changing up some things with their family #for fun

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seasurfacefullofclouds1 · 4 years

Note

(1/2) Hi! Sorry for this rant. I just saw Precious H's latest, the vogue thing, and it's been the final nail in the coffin for my appreciation of him. I found out about his existence/music in august, and he managed to make me love him and then sick of him in just about four months. Wonder if i get a consolation prize for the speedthrough... Anyway. Aside for the article itself being atrociously bland, Mr Precious had the guts to try and sing cherry with the "Niall drawl", cause god forbid any of

(2) the other boys have something nice for themselves, i guess!? It just pissed me off so much, the reach, cause H obviously failed at it. And i guess it makes me so angry because i'm actually a big Niall fan, i eventually found out. But i had to pass through H's fandom to get here, and the baseless, unfounded venom they spew... I have you to thank for lifting much of the fog for me, really. I mean, i felt a good chunk of H’s imagery was plain PR, but the extent of it gave me the whiplash.

(3) In conclusion, this was all meant to thank you very much for what you're doing with your spotless fact-checking of Harry's fame-machine. Your posts detailing the situation, not just for Louis, but also, a bit, fort the other boys is what helped me to move past the sparkle and spoonfed publicity stunts and find my way to an artist that matches my tastes and ethics more. So, thank you very much for doing this fandom's fairy godmother's work.

—

Hi,

I just read the Vogue interview. It gave me the opposite feeling of reading Taylor Swift’s Vogue interview from last year, which made me appreciate and admire the clarity of her thinking, her self-awareness and sense of responsibility to herself and her audience, her perception of the industry and the wider political world.

Harry’s Vogue piece was an encapsulation of the superficiality that is Harry Styles, a person who presents no complexity other than what meets the eye. He’s only four years younger than Taylor, but his lack of awareness of the world is astounding. He isn’t stupid, as the interview clearly shows. Instead, Harry Styles concentrates his intellectual energies on amassing defenses to protect himself from the world — cars, fashion, women, fame, houses. To be “free” and “happy” with the privilege of money and fame is his goal of existence. Yet the authors who write these articles make his frivolity seem morally exemplary.

Harry Styles turning bland, excessive privilege into a virtue, and feeling no shame in it, is an act of ultimate salesmanship. When does Harry build his own Petit Trianon to play shepherdess during a global pandemic? If the masses have no bread, they can eat cake! (Alain de Botton is philosophy-lite for shallow people, by the way.)

As for Niall, I had to stop and wonder why he was being so nice to Harry last year, but 2020 shows Niall to be a much better musician than Harry, and without a doubt, a better human being.

Niall, Liam, and Louis don’t talk about happiness with celebrity name-dropping and hyperbolic, undeserved legendary comparisons. They aren’t attention getters whose insecurity manifests in having to talk shit about their bandmates, and in hiring people who do so.

When they care about people, they do real charity and raise real money— not fans’ money. Their everyday actions bespeak of their authentic humility and gratitude. They don’t talk out of both sides of their mouths. They aren’t “being kind” in order to sell themselves, and they aren’t tone-deaf walking billboards.

When Harry sells “kindness,” we can see how truly kind the other men of One Direction are, and how egocentric, superficial, and mercenary Harry is, by comparison.

#harry styles #13 november 2020 #niall horan #louis tomlinson #liam payne #Harry in Vogue

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berniesrevolution · 6 years

Photo

JACOBIN MAGAZINE

In September 2017, feeling the first twinges of labor, I walked beyond the ten-block radius my ob-gyn had prescribed me, defying her bed-rest orders for one reason: to tour day-care centers and get my unborn kid on as many wait lists as possible.

I knew I had to take the risk only because I’d worked for three years on youth and family programs at a high-quality New York nonprofit.

When I’d started in 2012, our preschool had a two-year wait list. By the time I left, the wait list had swelled to almost four years, which meant that most children who had been added to the list never got into the program. We had at least twenty applications for children in utero, and two for children who hadn’t yet been conceived. Sometimes mothers mentioned to me that they’d miscarried, but would like to keep their application open, and did in fact conceive again before receiving an offer of admission. One baby died while on the list.

My program was unusual in that it featured a first-come/first-serve “need blind” admissions process and substantial tuition assistance to families who could prove that they needed it — but its $37,000 a year price tag was all too typical for American childcare.

For the Church, life begins at the moment of conception. For an American baby, life starts much sooner — the moment a parent (almost always a mother) begins to think about how and when she can afford to have a child, and who will care for the child when she returns to work, as the vast majority of parents must do. If she has been in the same job for a year and worked at least 1,250 hours for an employer who also happens to employ at least fifty people within a seventy-five-mile radius of her workplace, then she will be eligible for twelve weeks of unpaid time off and continuation of health benefits under the Family Medical Leave Act (FMLA). She may be able to extend that slightly further with unused sick time — assuming she has any.

FMLA is an accommodating piece of legislation passed during the labor-punishing Clinton era, which applies to a little over half of US workers. It was the Democrats’ polite throat-clearing sigh, a gentle nudge in the general direction of our bosses, asking “Please sir, can I have my job back after taking care of my dying daughter?” when working families needed a paid family leave program comparable to the rest of the world’s, and a universal, federally funded childcare program. Since 1985, the majority of mothers of preschool children have participated in the workforce, and in the thirty years since, unprecedented growth in wealth inequality has transformed an urgent need into a moral and economic crisis. Now, as Baby Boomers age and a smaller percentage of the population has young children, there are fewer adult advocates for their needs.

”At the same time we thrust new parents back into the labor market, we also insist that they comparison shop for childcare in a country with no national standards for quality, accessibility, or safety.”

There is no reason we can’t have nationally subsidized, paid parental leave and childcare today. At present, public spending on early childhood education and care in the United States represents less than 0.5 percent of GDP, less than any OECD country besides Croatia, Latvia, and Turkey.

At the time of its bipartisan passage in 1993, the Chamber of Commerce warned that FMLA set a “dangerous precedent,” and John Boehner muttered something about “the light of freedom growing dimmer,” but twenty-five years later, a vast majority of employers report that complying with FMLA is easy and has had a positive or neutral effect on their workplaces. It is the sole non-means-tested federal provision for American families in the first few weeks of their children’s lives. Still, the burden is on parents to obtain doctor’s notes and coordinate it — and even it can hardly be called universal.

Employers approve, but how has it turned out for families? Many of those who are eligible can’t actually afford to take it. A full quarter of American mothers return to work less than two weeks after giving birth. Marissa Mayer aside, those who return soonest are most likely to be working class. Mothers who do not have housekeepers or nannies are constrained in their parenting choices, such as whether and how to breastfeed, and are more susceptible to depression.

One factory worker described breaking down in tears of exhaustion while pumping in a parking lot after a twelve-hour shift. The cheerful slogan “breast is best” is more likely to produce heart pangs than an eye-roll in the 88 percent of women who have no paid time off.

Nurri Latef, an early childhood teacher who I spoke to about her experience returning to school when her son was two months old, says, “I hated it. I felt like I was leaving my child at such a critical bonding time for the two of us, and he was premature. He spent a month in the hospital, so … I was only at home for one month with Nasir before I had to jump back into toddler-teacher mode so I could keep a roof over our heads.” No parent in any job should have to feel this way, but there’s a unique cruelty to forcing women to leave their own children before they feel ready to take care of other people’s children.

Meanwhile, Apple and Google employees get eighteen weeks of paid leave and backup or on-site day care. Googlers are awarded $500 cash referred to as “Baby Bonding Bucks.” Of course, not every worker shares in the benefits even at these seemingly enlightened firms: tech companies often outsource security, food service, and janitorial work by hiring private contractors, who are not eligible. Overall, about a third of American workers in management and other professional

Here’s how Julia Roitfeld, the daughter of the editor of French Vogue, describes impending motherhood: “It was like a detox — I ate healthy, I slept a lot, and I didn’t drink. All of my hormones were at the perfect levels. I was super-happy, and I really didn’t give a shit about work. Usually I’m so on top of work, but I was in a little cloud. But in August I thought, ‘Okay, I need to go back to work and start making a living again.’”

How long can a parent stay in that “little cloud” and “not give a shit” about the cost of diapers, formula, and rent? That depends both on one’s class and nationality. Brazilian mothers get seventeen weeks of leave to take care of their little ones at their full salary; Canadian parental leave was recently extended from one year to eighteen months at about 55 percent pay; Russia offers mothers twenty-four weeks paid. I could go on. The United States, Papua New Guinea, and Lesotho are the only countries in the world that don’t guarantee all workers paid time off to care for a new child — here, parental leave is a luxury reserved for the rich.

At the same time we thrust new parents back into the labor market, we also insist that they comparison shop for childcare in a country with no national standards for quality, accessibility or safety. Nearly 11 million children, including over half of children below the age of one, spend an average of twenty-seven hours a week in some kind of childcare setting, yet the burden is on individual parents to assess the risks and benefits of a confusing, unaccountable, generally private system pieced together state by state for the care of our littlest and most vulnerable children. In essence, giving birth or adopting a child in America means you also take on the job of government regulator. It’s an impossible task, with occasionally tragic consequences.

In 2013, a day-care worker in Mississippi handed a ten-week-old baby boy over to his father at pickup time without noticing that the child’s skin was blue and he was unresponsive. The father directed the staff to call 911 while he performed CPR — none of the staff knew how — and his son was finally rushed to the emergency room, where he died. After an investigation, the state concluded that the childcare center met all legal requirements for operation. It remains open.

In 2014, Kellie Rynn Martin suffocated at the age of three months in a day-care center run out of a middle-class suburban home in South Carolina, where her mother suspects she was put to sleep in a bassinet with a blanket or even another infant. When forensics searched the house, they found fourteen children playing “the quiet game” in the eighty-five-degree basement under the supervision of the owner’s daughter. In an interview, Martin’s mother stressed that the day-care owner’s home had appeared clean and the owner appeared competent when she toured the program only a few weeks earlier.

(Continue Reading)

#politics #the left #jacobin #jacobin magazine #universal social programs #child care #day care #universal pre k

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anightflower · 6 years

Text

A Compromise

Summary: The Widows, an organization of women that are trained to seduce, marry, then kill some of the most powerful and corrupt men of the century. Get in, get out, don’t be found. Things become more complicated for Y/N, the Nightingale when powerful mobster James Buchanan Barnes discovers the organization and hires them for his benefit.

Characters: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

So I am attempting to write a series!!! What a time. I will be using 1920′s slang to make more authentic. If you some slang you don’t know you can find it here:

http://mollsanddolls.blogspot.com/2007/10/1920s-slang-dictionary.html

Part One

The man sat at his mahogany desk, his face a mask of frustration as he glanced down at the crisp white paper before him.

A Compromise

May 19 1924

Base Territory Bid: Half of Broadway to Block 184.

BARNES,

IN REVERENCE TO YOUR VALUABLE TIME, I’LL JUST JUMP ON THIS ONE. YOU WANT MY BOYS TO LAY OFF YOUR SIDE OF TOWN? GIVE UP HALF OF BROADWAY TO 184. WE CAN SHAKE ON IT AND WASH OLD BLOOD OFF OUR HANDS PAL. START A NEW EMPIRE ON THE RIGHT FOOT.

REGARDS,

MELEGARI

The deal before him was shit and he knew it, hell it was barely a fucking deal at all. His glass of whiskey shook as he slammed his fist down. “Damnit!” he yelled, grabbing the crystal glass and hucking it at the wall. It shattered into a million pieces, glittering like stars as they fell to the ground.

The gleaming black rotary phone on his desk let out a shrill cry, snapping him out of his angry reverie. He growled as he ripped the phone off its cradle.. “What is it, Penny?”

“A spot of bright news boss! We found one,” his receptionist cherrily replied.

His heart sped up as a smug smile crawled across his face. “Then you know what to do, Doll.”

“I’ll ready the boys.”

“Atta’ girl, Pen. Blow em’ a kiss for me. And remind them that I don’t want a pretty hair on her head yanked or damaged; we need her on our side,” he reminded her.

“You got it, boss.” He could hear the smile in Penny’s voice as she hung up.

Good news indeed.

______________________________________________________________________________

She had always believed that human beings had an ancient instinct that tells them when they were being tracked or to followed.

Y/N? She knew she was being followed since Maywood Street. She could see her stalker now. He tried to look inconspicuous; his dirty blonde hair tucked away into a navy cap, that he pulled low to cover his eyes, but no, especially her, could be oblivious to that hideous pinstripe suit. She wanted to laugh. Hiding in plain sight my ass.

She rolled her eyes as she pulled the green collar of her peacoat up more. Nat was right; I should have just gone with black instead of green, She thought, irritated at herself. The thing was, she liked to be conspicuous out in a life of secrecy and lies.

She decided she would take a detour at the bakery and see if her stalker was truly after her or if it was all a “mysterious coincidence.” She snuck a peek at him from the corner of her eye as he pretended to look at some of the wares of the vendor next to the bakery. Resisting the urge to rip off her heel and huck it at him, she went inside.

“Ah Y/N, the usual?” Nellie called out to her. Nellie ran this bakery like a well-oiled machine, not to mention, she made some of the best strawberry danishes Y/N had ever tasted.

“You know me too well, Nel,” She beamed as she handed Nellie some cash. “I’ll take it to go today. Don’t forget-”

“The extra strawberry jam will be packed in there for you don’t you worry,” she replied, winking playfully.

“Nellie, you’re a doll,” Y/N praised, grabbing the bag from Nel’shand and making my her way back out into the street. Her eyes scanned the busy market street before her watching as people bustled two and fro like ants.

Ah, and there was Pinstripes, pretending to admire some tie samples outside of Calvin’s. And what do you know? The ones he was looking out stuck out just as much as that god awful suit.

Y/N kept scanning, looking for any exits to take to avoid him. Her key to leave was walking up the street: a large group of chatty girls lost in their shopping haze. As they passed in front of the bakery, Y/N hopped in with them. They hardly even noticed, all of them were too lost screaming about “Johnny’s new haircut” and “How was Marie’s date last night?” It was difficult for Y/N not to have her eyes roll into the back of her head. These girls were lost in a fucking fantasy life; she doubted they had to lift a finger for a thing.

She looked back at Pinstripes, whose head was swiveling around trying to find her. Y/N let out a joyful laugh, which quickly went away when his eyes met hers.

That’s when She took off, pushing the glimmer girls out of the way, ignoring their cries of “my shoes,” or “ouch my hair!” and sprinting down a random alley.

She heard Pinstripes yell something, most likely a profanity. She glanced over her shoulder again only to see him rushing after her.

“Shit, shit, shit,” She hissed under her breath, weaving through different pathways, people, ANYTHING that could make him lose me. There was no way she could go back to the Nest and risk her following her there.

Y/N slowed a bit when she realized she didn’t hear heavy footsteps behind her. Actually, she heard nothing?

She stopped, looking around the alleyway realizing she had lost her way. She didn’t recognize a damn thing. SHIT! It was too quiet here, she had to figure out how to get back to the Nest-

Y/N yelped as she felt two huge arms wrap around her waist. Her instincts kicked in and she slammed her head against the man holding her.

“FUCK!” He growled. His arms released her and she whipped around to face him in a bristling fighting stance.

“What in hell do you think you’re doing? Are you a copper?” Y/N hissed.

“Quite the opposite.” Pinstripes laughed, his hand cradling his nose. He looked up at her and smiled, Y/N had to admit, it was an stunning smile, it complimented his blue eyes.

“Miss Vogue, I have someone who wants to meet you,” he said gruffly. “I’d rather not have to do this the hard way.

“Plenty of men want to meet me Pinstripes. Give me one good reason why I should meet your man?” Y/N smirked.

“Because nobody says no to James Buchanan Barnes.”

___________________________________________________________________________

Y/N was forced into a lovely little black Rolls Royce. She was stiff as a board, her body’s fight or flight response on full alert. She eyed Steve, Pinstripes actual name, warily watching him through the rearview mirror. He had been a gentleman, however, he had opened and closed the door for Y/N, even going as far as to offering her champagne, which she quickly passed on. She needed a clear head to work my way through this situation.

How on earth did James Barnes find her? How on earth could she evade him?

The car ride had little chatter, the only noise being quiet jazz playing from the radio. A car with a radio - Barnes clearly liked to show off his money. Y/N swallowed hard at the thought.

______________________________________________________________________________

Her heart nearly stopped when the car pulled up to the mansion before her. I am in some deep shit, she thought to herself.

Steve opened the door for her, gesturing toward the front door and guiding Y/N into the mansion and down a series of hallways.

They stopped in front of an ornately-decorated door. Steve knocked once.

A deep voice from within called out. “Come in.”

He was facing the fireplace. His crisp navy suit glowed in the warm light.

Y/N took a deep breath and composed herself, pasting a natural smirk on her face.

“Now, a dame loves a good chase every once and a while Mr. Barnes, but that was a bit of a whirlwind even for me. Care to tell me why I am here?” Y/N asked

Steve gestured to the seat in front of Barne’s desk. Y/N gave him a look, raising an eyebrow. Steve just nodded toward the chair, his face saying, I would sit if I were you. Y/N rolled her eyes and sat down gracefully.

“You know who I am?” the man asked, turning to Y/N with surprise, his deep blue eyes inquisitive.

“I doubt there isn’t a person in New York who doesn’t know who you are,” she answered with a bright grin. Y/N knew she had to keep the charade up if she wanted to get out of here.

“Well, then, since we know each other let’s just skip the pleasantries, Miss Y/L/N. I believe you are familiar with a group called the Widows?” he stated simply as he sat across from her..

Y/N daintily crossed one leg over the other, her face crinkled in innocent confusion. ‘I can’t say I am, Mr. Barnes.”

“Oh, don't play coy with me, Doll.” He threw a thick file onto the desk. “Or should I say, Nightingale?”

Y/N shoulders tensed slightly, but she kept her face a mask of innocence. “As I said, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

He opened up the file. “You’ve been called by many names, had many hair styles and colors, yet those pretty eyes; always the same. And what a beautiful color they are in person.” He threw a few black and white photos on the desk. Y/N face staring back at her in each one. “Such pretty wedding dresses in each one. You have exquisite taste. What number husband are you on now?” He smiled like the cat that got the cream.

The soft look on Y/N’s face disappeared. “What are you looking for, Barnes? Is this a threat?”

He got up, grabbing two crystal glasses and a pewter filled with what Y/N could only assume is bourbon. “Drink?” he asked as he filled the two glasses. She glared at him coldly.

He sighed at her silence, placing the amber-filled glass before her. “It doesn’t have to be a threat. To put it simply, I have a job for you, Miss Y/L/N,” he proposed.

“Something tells me this isn’t optional. Then again from what I have heard, nothing is optional with you, Mr. Barnes,” Y/N quipped back, crossing her arms across her chest.

He leaned back in his chair and took a deep swig from his glass.. “I am glad you’ve done your research.”

“Anf what if I still said no? I am not afraid of you, Barnes; you’re not the only one with a few aces up your sleeve,” Y/N growled, starting to get up to leave.

“You may have a few jacks up your sleeve, but you have so much to lose, Nightingale,” Y/N paused at his words. His use of her code name digging into her.

“One misslip of the tongue, and you and your lovely lady widow friends can be caught in the act, which would be nothing short of a shame, considering how much I admire the wonderful work you have done.” Y/N turned back to him, her whole body tense with rage. Barnes’ shit-eating grin only grew wider.

He knew he had her on the ropes.

“What do you want, Barnes?” Y/N hissed through gritted teeth as she plopped herself back down into the overly-expensive brown leather chair with a huff.

He stood up placing both of his hands on the desk, each big rock on his finger reflecting the firelight. “For years, the Widows have been an invaluable organization going after unjust leaders, horrific mobsters, and anyone who does not meet their standards. You send one of your girls in, seduce, marry, then kill, conveniently covering it up with the husband never seeing it coming. You, Nightingale, are the most successful one of them all, with over 25 successful missions in five years. You’ve become a Widow prodigy, and I need you to do it again.”

He was met again with my silence.

He continued on. “His name is Charles ‘Charlie’ Melegari. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”

A million images flashed before Y/N eyes: lavish parties, a dark smile, slicked back bronze hair. “We have met a few times. He has a decent piece of New York, doesn’t he?” Y/N picked at her nails casually, looking calm even though the idea of going into his territory made her heart stop.

“I suppose you could say that. You see, he’s been giving me and my boys some problems lately, and I would love to have these issues- well let’s just say- removed from my life. I have a business to run, and this man has been trying to fuck up my business and conquer my territory. I don’t have time for petty problems like those,” he drawled.

“And I’m supposed to take care of your little problem?” Y/N scoffed.

“Exactly.”

“You act as if I’ll do this out of charity, what’s in it for me?” She leaned forward placing her head on her hand, batting her long lashes up at him.

He laughed, his blue eyes lighting up with mischief. “Besides protection for your girls? I can give you whatever you want doll: money, protection-”

“How about a piece of your empire?” His smile disappeared at my words. “My ladies and I could use a little bit of this. We live a life of luxury, but murder can get tiresome,” Y/N sighed.

He stroked his chin, deciding. “That can be discussed.”

“Fine.” Y/N said promptly.

She got up again and headed towards the door. She paused, her back to him. “While when you’ve decided, you apparently know where to find me, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky smirked at her sass. “Until our next meeting, Nightingale,” he replied. As an afterthought he added, “Oh, and doll?”

Y/N turned her head towards him, eyebrows raised in question.

“Next time we meet, wear something that will make those pretty little eyes of yours pop,” he winked.

Y/N rolled her eyes at the comment and strutted out into the hallway, making sure to slam the door behind her.

A compromise then: Wear something pretty for him, then get what she wants.

#james barnes #mobster!bucky #the widows #Avengers #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #winter soldier fanfiction #Winter Soldier #captain america winter soldier #Sebastian Stan

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offworldcolony · 3 years

Text

Zack Snyder's Justice League, 2021 - ★★★

Daddy Issues: The Movie.

I'm conflicted about the existence of this film; as an exercise in studio interference it's fascinating, as a parable of what can happen when fans rise up, it's a cautionary tale, and as the shape of things to come, it's questionable. I don't think fans should get to decide anything; hiring the correct filmmakers and giving them creative freedom would be the ideal option because you give the people what they need and never what they want. What they want, as evidenced by everything, almost always sucks and they're left unhappy anyway. And this film might be the exception that proves the rule.

And although Zack Snyder's Justice League was a film worth creating from the butchered remains of the original incarnation, it shouldn't have come at the behest of how much vitriol was cast out there in the process, and it shouldn't be a signal that a rabid and butthurt community of internet trolls that believe they deserve whatever they want, exactly as they want it, should ever influence the film industry ever again.

This should instead be a reminder to Studios that they know about as much as Marketing departments or gamblers or stock market traders: they're just pissing in the wind and when it lands in the toilet they claim it's by some kind of design of their own making and brilliance. Hire somebody good and get the fuck out of their way. At least if it's shit (like this film basically is) it is the fault of one person's vision and I'd rather have a noble and coherent failure than a luke-warm, mediocre carcass of a Frankenstein's monster made up of opinionated Suits, en-vogue and focus group-driven decisions acting only as a commercial for toys like 2017's Justice League was.

So the film itself? It's incredibly enjoyable, I had an absolute blast with my family round watching it like an old-school movie night. Is it a better movie? Yes, 100% in practically every way. Is it a good movie? Nope! But it's one person's coherent vision, I just hate that vision and I don't think he pulls it off.

Snyder constantly undercuts his own good ideas by his own execution, stumbling into his own sandcastles; some sequences have some really fantastic starts and then they're shot and edited in a way that makes me crawl inside out with cringe; singing a Nordic-style Aquaman song: great, having someone really close up sniff his jumper and sing right at us: horrific. And there's legion of these terrible choices by Snyder, usually things that don't make logical sense but mean he can do something because it's simply cool. (Martha Manhunter anyone?) But we already know by now that cool on its own isn't enough. Snyder doesn't. Having Batman say "fuck" isn't cool, it's dumb. Having Superman say a cocky (rubbish) one-liner when he saves someone from Steppenwolf is out of character, it's dumb. More than once I was able to predict what a character was going to say before they even said it. Come on, this isn't Trey Parker and Matt Stone's Team Justice League.

On the undeniable positives are the colour grading, score, the reels of added and altered material and more. Most of the added scenes are way, way better, more coherent and the film looks great actually. It does look Olympian and classic as I imagine he wanted it to, like the cave murals Diana sees. The extra character and coherence allow the jokes and interactions to breathe; Wayne is a little funnier, Diana, sadder, Cyborg, actually here for a change with something to do, and seemingly powerful, and Flash (thank god) not annoying. Even Irons' Alfred gets basically the best material and comes out of it my favourite character. Truly the Alfred of the group.

What doesn't work with this is that there's so much slow-mo that it becomes laugh-out-loud funny and goofy rather than impressive and dynamic, and in a 4-hour long film, you'd better be damn sure that amount of slow-mo is necessary, even in the slow-mo shots you can palpably feel they drag on for a few seconds too long each time.

And my god let's talk about the soundtrack. So Snyder has now consistently proven himself to be awkwardly tone-deaf to good music in all of his films. He can't pick an appropriate track, he can't pick an ironic track. Every time he does one of his patented slow-mo, nothing sequences over a full track of music (it feels like) it's so awkward I almost got up and left my own fucking house. There's like five of these.

But the action here (apart from being blasted in the eyeballs by insane amounts of bright lights) was all really genuinely good here, he's got it down, the dynamism didn't feel stodgy and CGI-ified, wasn't just a big invulnerable guy bashing someone aside for ten minutes, they fought as a team, it looked and felt fun, and at times, really tense and involving. It's a huge step up from whatever they did for the theatrical. The Amazonian stuff was motivated, gripping and grand. Anything with Steppenwolf felt imposing and had heft and tactics to it. Bravo.

Speaking of Steppenwolf, his Middle Managers and Head Office in the form of marble liquid Henchman, Darkseid and CGI Anette Benning(??!!) felt like strange meaningless additions, as did the anti-life equation shit (this is what Marvel doesn't do, they're expert-level at exposition for newcomers and easter eggs for fans combined). Darkseid looked like a troll, neither imposing nor unique or cool, and I'm not talking an ordinary troll, I mean one of those shit ones that gets turned to stone in the sun, not even a proper fighting troll. He looked like the first mini-boss encounter in a Lord of the Rings videogame. But...

But Steppenwolf looked awesome and I actually liked him here and his Simp for Daddy schtick. I laughed at him a lot, but like Synder I had a lot of endearment for him and his cute, sad, hopeful eyes. Daddy please love me! I promise I'll do better! I can't explain why he worked this time but he did. Maybe it's because the story felt interesting (dumb but at least it all made sense internally) and it felt grand in scale and scope and had stakes and whole added motivations for everybody.

Speaking of what else worked, yes I enjoyed the 4:3 aspect ratio, I thought it would just be Zack Snyder wanking himself off again (see: Justice League: Dark or whatever they'll call his upcoming Black and White version) but I kind of loved it, it was almost euphoric and actually did replicate some of what going to the IMAX felt like. I liked feeling like these colossi of comic books were towering above like statues.

What didn't work was that the chapter headings had nothing to do with the chapters at all or anything that happened in them which felt strange. Also, characters over-egg their lines as if we're dumb and keep stating the obvious in such a first draft way that I felt myself getting stupider.

One of my main gripes is if you keep trying to one-up yourself, these character do not feel understandably epic and powerful. They're all kind of idiotic and silly and po-faced and posture so much and say snappy one-liners and prance around like Chads. Snyder thinking he’s some kind of subversive genius and all that is sweet, but most of time I'm laughing at his cloying fan-service. He's the kid that keeps telling you how great he is and you don't mind because you can see he's got no friends and he's been bullied. Snyder isn't as aggressively dumb and bullish like Michael Bay is, for example, and Snyder's movies are largely coherent. But he's trying too hard and I just don't like his vision. As little elseworld graphic novels this kind of shit between Batman and Joker works, or in films like Joker you can do some out-there things, rather than in this, a mainline, flagship series.

Zack Synder is a little like a first-time Dungeons and Dragons DM trying to impress his table with all his edgelord grittiness and "vision"; He is a child that has two figurines and is smashing them together and yelling "Look! Look what I'm doing! Superman is beating everyone up! LOOK!" Zack Snyder's Justice League is simply, more than anything, endearing. That's the best way I can describe it.

Endearing.

And this film being endearing means I can't hate it, even though I think it's rubbish; because if a child builds a fortress of Lego, it's not exactly the Taj Mahal, but it is impressive. But when he knocks it all down I'm right there yelling for him to pick up all the destroyed pieces now because it can't always be playtime. A film can't just be spectacle and chaos and whatever-the-fuck-you-want. It has to be about something.

Justice League is about nothing. The Dark Knight was about Chaos in a system used to Order even if there was chaos inherent in the order. And it asked you to look at that chaos vs unbridled chaos. With both Dent and Joker as two sides of the same coin; chaos and order, and it put that paradox or that choice to the people of Gotham. It was about surveillance states, money, and sacrifice. And so much more. The Dark Knight subsequently became timely and timeless.

Justice League is about nothing and it will fade into nothing because of it. The euphoria will pass. It's OK it exists. It OK that we move past it now.

source https://letterboxd.com/offworldcolony/film/zack-snyders-justice-league/

#letterboxd #review #film #film review #diary #film diary #letterboxd diary #letterboxd film review

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bolbianddolanhouse · 4 years

Text

BNHA self insert AU [Book 2]

Beginning of Book 2 Read here to catch up!

Chapter 11: Oh Shit, He’s on X-Games Mode

It’s Saturday, day of our roof Ki Ki! Hoshi and I kept everything low-key as possible. For the most part, I slaved away in my room, making the cyberkid outfits for the twins. Not going to lie, it was all very exciting to be sneaking around like this. Wonder if this was like when my mom did things under my dad’s nose in the dorms? To answer your question....no, I didn’t tell my parents that I’m doing this. Might get in trouble but FUCK IT! We’re just a bunch of kids, groovin’, vibin’ and extremely gay.

First ones to show up were the twins for the make over. Lucky us that the class rep went to bed early tonight, so he didn’t see the twins come in. Same thing with the others, some resided in the dorms and they snuck in everyone else in the group ahead of time. We got things JUMPING! It was something out of those voguing videos I showed them. Some came in drag, some in casual cosplay and it was overall really cool. I was in my halter top and parachute pants and Hoshi in his himbo outfit. We all danced and hyped each-other for hours, in those moments, I didn’t care about the time! It was just perfect.

“Thanks for coming!” I said to the twins as they were packing up their set up “here’s something extra for an amazing night.”

They see me handing them cash and they shook their heads “We don’t want your money, it’s cool.”

“Huh? Why not?” I was confused.

“Mifa and I were thinking that we’d just come when you ask us to mix master for these things” Dore smiled her trademark goofy smile “We’re been wanting to do this kind of thing, play want we want, play according to the vibes of the place! Your group gives off the vibes we wanna play for, so we’ll be reserving saturdays for Ki Ki’s.”

“Deadass?” I responded “I’m so happy you two like the vibes we give here! So I guess it’s cool if we do this again next week? Same time?”

“Hell yea!” chanted the twins.

They leave and I check the time, it’s 5am.

“Aww shit, Hoshi, we gotta go to bed!”

Hoshi yawns “Yea, get’s go” He says as we make our way to the room “ya know, that was the most fun I’d had in a while. You really showed out on the dance floor.”

“You did really good too!” I praised him “When you threw in that C-walk, I knew it was game over for your opponent!”

Hoshi laughed “Shut up! That rocket launched death drop was the queeniest move I’ve ever seen! It could totally be passable as a fighting move.”

We got to our room and just flopped onto bed.

“Hope you don’t mind my stinky-ness” I apologized “I’m too tired to take a shower.”

“I don’t mind it” he said as he took off his shoes “we’ll just shower later.”

“Ight then” I turned to my comfortable position “night night!”

“More like, good morning!” Hoshi snickered before laying down to shut his eyes “see you when I wake up.”

A few days ago, we got Hoshi’s bed in the room along with one of those foldable room dividers. It feels weird not sleeping in the same bed as Hoshi but everyone needs privacy every now and then. Wonder if he feels the same way? I’ve noticed that he’s developing to be a little more independent from me, it’s not concerning, but is he doing it because he feels like a burden? Whatever it is, I don’t feel like I’m a position to ask.

-Later in the day-

“Hey did you guys hear the music last night?” asked one of the girls in our class “It was so weird! It was like there was a dance battle with the people cheering and the beats were something else!”

Hoshi and I were sprawled out on the commons room couch “I’m sure it was the intel students.” I answered to make us sound innocent.

“It wasn’t them” the class rep spoke up “I checked outside my window to their dorms, no party of any sort!”

“Oh then do you think it was inside the dorms?” asked Toei-kun.

“Who knows? I didn’t see anything” the class rep responded “but next time, I’m going to investigate!”

“Aww don’t be lame! What if it’s the 3rd years?” I commented.

“I don’t care! It’s a nuisance!” he crossed his arms “Call me lame all you want, thank me later.”

I gave Hoshi a look and he gave me one back. Crap, we gotta be careful now! Wonder what mom would do....wayment! I got an idea.

“Oop, I don’t like that face” Hoshi joked “what dangerous little idea is floating in ya head Lili?”

“Oh wouldn’t you like to know weather boy” I teased and giggled “Can’t give all my ideas out like that!”

“Oh just kiss already!” cried out one of the girls “seriously! I can’t stand all this tension, pining and coy looks. Literally, everyone here doesn’t care if you two are a thing” she stands up “We. Ship. It!” she said with claps after every word.

Everyone in earshot agreed “We don’t have a thing for each other!” Hoshi and I yelled back.

“Stop it everyone!” sensei said as he walked into the room “I’ll tell you this, your mom and dad said the same thing but everyone knew your dad had the biggest dumbest crush on you mom. He told us behind closed doors.”

“Wait, how did my mom not know?” I asked as I know my mom doesn’t let anything slip by her like that.

“We didn’t say anything, some of us wanted her too” he admitted “so it was a competition for her heart and attention. So this scene reminded me so much of those days where she’d pop in to help us with strategy or english homework and Iida-kun would be all over her, not letting any of us shoot our shot.”

“Ew you wanted my mom sensei?”

“Well...at the time I did” he flushed in embarrassment “but I accused her of doing naughty things with your dad on the night of the school dance because her purse was in his room. But it was a coincidence and she hated me ever since” he sighed “Never get on her angry side is what I learned from all that.”

“Wow, that’s mega messed up sensei” Hoshi shamed “no wonder you’re single.”

The whole class hollered at that roast and you could see sensei’s life crumble...he never did recover from that roast.

But I told Hoshi about my plan for next time, since the twins don’t want my money, I’ll pay Sube to warn us when the class rep is on his way to the roof. I asked her to be on guard for us and she said yes when she saw the money. Every weekend from then on out, we didn’t get caught...or so we thought.

-3 months later, parent meeting at UA-

“Thank you so much for coming to this meeting!” chirped the principal “this is a better turnout than some of the other departments.”

“Shall we get started?” spoke up Midnight “Theres a lot to discuss.”

“Yes, well, there’s some issues within the dorms” started the principal “every weekend, there’s a commotion going on for hours after lights out. Nobody knows were it’s coming from but that’s within the hero dorms.”

“Weird, Lili hasn’t mentioned anything about it” Tenya chopped “and she’s a light sleeper!”

“That’s because she’s part of the problem” the principal pulled up security images “your daughter and her friend have been recorded coming back from something at around 5am. Oddly enough, it looks like they didn’t leave the premise.”

“Why isn’t the teacher more aware of what’s going on?!” out-bursted one parent.

“They have a point” Ita spoke up “my daughter and her friend were attacked a few months ago in those dorms, and even then Minoru didn’t know until the damage was already done!”

That got the other parents muttering to themselves “I’m capable of protecting your kids! They wouldn’t have hired me as a teacher if I wasn’t!”

“You and I both know that the Rat Man didn’t run any sort of background check!” Ita argued “Aizawa was hired because of his quirk but didn’t have any type of teaching credential! And neither do you! Like seriously Minoru, why the hell did Nezu hire you?!”

“I ask myself that everyday since that Rat died and asked us to bury him in the school garden” Midnight sighed stressfully “Stupid Rat had too much power and knew his word was law!”

“Can we stop talking about Mr. Nezu?!” butted in the current principal “Look, if you think you can do a better job at finding out what they’re up too, I invite you to do so.”

“Fine, I will” Ita huffed.

“Me too!” Tenya gave an affirming chop.

“Us too! We’ve been noticing our daughters sneaking out on Saturdays” said Kaminari “pretty sure they’ve been hired to mix for whatever this is.”

None of the other parents said that they’ll help, so the meeting went on as planned. Ita and Tenya decided to snoop on the following Saturday...

“This really takes me back” Tenya sighed “just us hanging out, under the stars, with an urge to kiss you.”

Ita blushed as she felt her husbands arm wrapping around her waist “Please contain yourself Tenya, I’m trying to see what’s going on. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve used Mimi’s quirk” she said as she squinted to control the quirk “better stop grabbing my ass and grab those binoculars!”

“But it’s been so long since we’ve gone out alone” he picked up the binoculars “just one little makeout under the stars? Please love?”

“The faster we bust this, the sooner we can do whatever you wanna do with me” Ita said as incentive “And I mean anything, anywhere, as long and rough as you want it~”

Tenya put the binoculars immediately up to his face “I’m focusing on the target as we speak!”

After a while, they finally saw something “Hey, did you see that? The roof access door opened!” Ita perked up.

“Whoever they are must’ve stolen the keys!”

“Actually, the roof access door is the only door in the dorms that isn’t secure” Ita admitted “it might as well be dead-bolted with a piece of gum! I’d go up there to smoke with Aizawa and Shinso all the time.”

“Ah! I was wondering where you’d run off to” Tenya came to realize things from the past “can’t believe all this time, the roof is where you were. No wonder you and Shinso were so close and how Aizawa oddly favored you.”

“Yup, HOL UP! Look Tenya” she refocused on the roof “more people are showing up to the roof! That means that they’re all students.”

Suddenly the lights set up turned on, revealing the faces of the people on the dorm roof. “I don’t believe it, there’s Lili and Hoshi, Dore and Mifa” observed Tenya “there’s at least 15 people on that roof, and are some of them in...drag? Is that the correct word?”

“It is! Aw you remember!” Ita gushed at their partner “watching all those drag shows really stuck in your head huh?”

“We’ve been married for almost 19 years, of course I remember drag terms” Tenya said confidently “But what are these kids doing? There’s no way this a conspiracy meeting, why would you dress in your best drag just to talk?”

“GOD you’re making me so wet right now” his wife growled, biting her lip “careful babe, I’m close to just saying ‘fuck it’ and teleport out of my clothes.”

Tenya took off the binoculars and turned to her “You are really tempting me” he laughed “if this was a real mission, we’d be breaking so many laws right now.”

“When has that ever stopped me?” Ita giggled as she turned to face her husband “Or is it a crime to show my husband how badly I want them?”

“God I wanna-” the distant sound of electronic music interrupted Tenya “oh? That’s weird.”

Ita looks again and zooms in on the action “Are they? WAIT! Tenya! They’re voguing in pairs” she says in disbelief “it’s a vogue style dance battle! These kids are having a Ki Ki!”

“Oh my! That person with the feather boa is really sissying that walk” he said peering in the binoculars “Looks like it was just a misunderstanding, I don’t think this is a bad thing.”

“Me either, if anything, we can blame the lack of extracurriculars in hero schools” she said matter of factly “This isn’t something I’d bust them for but I’d like for them to do it openly and in a safer location.”

“I see” Tenya responded “what’s the next step?”

Ita rubbed her eyes to deactivate the quirk “We can either report this to the principal as a misunderstanding and talk to Lili later OR we can talk to them now and report later” she blinked fast “Which-ever we do, it will start a debate on whether there should be extracurriculars in hero schools. And you know my feelings about that.”

“I’d say we leave them- what the?” Tenya was refocused on the dorms “Ita, Denki just pulled up to the dorms.”

“What? I can’t see right now, can you tell me what he’s doing?”

“He’s entering the dorms...OH Kyoka is with him too!” He commented “and they’re going in the elevator. I think they’re going to crash the Ki Ki.”

“Stupid Denki!” Ita groaned “he’s going to ruin everything because he doesn’t understand what a Ki Ki is!” she grabbed Tenya’s arm “We gotta zip in first before he busts in and opens his mouth.”

He puts his hand out “Do what you do best darling” he encouraged his wife as she puts his hand on her chest.

“Hee Hee, oh you! Just like old times” she giggled “Hang on!”

They teleported to the roof of the dorms and everyone froze in fear.

“Mom? DAD?!” Lili screeched “Wha-what are you doing here?!”

“Hi Lili, and hello to y’all too!” Ita warmly greeted “sorry to zip in like this, but there’s a nuisance coming up on the stairs.” she turns to her husband “Stand your ground! Let’s defend these kids!”

“Right!” yelped Tenya as he got in his fighting stance “Let’s do this!”

The others we murmuring on who were we talking about until the roof access door swung open. Out stumbled Denki, swatting away a bird, and Kyoka.

“Why don’t this bird leave?!” Denki winced “OW! Not the face!”

“You’re hopeless!” Kyoka cringed, then her gaze shifted to her kids “Dore and Mifa! Do you have any idea how late it is?!”

“But mom we-”

“Mom’s right babygirls” Denki stopped them from responding “You’ve been sneaking out and that’s not very cool” he noticed their outfits “and that’s not appropriate clothing! We talked about this girls!”

“Denki, Kyoka...please listen to us” Ita spoke up before the situation escalated “I agree with the sneaking out, not okay, BUT these kids aren’t doing anything bad. I don’t see why you don’t agree with their cyberpunk aesthetic.”

“It’s too revealing and just strange!” Denki pointed at the his daughters “I said they could dress however they wanted when they move out pay for their own things. And as long as they live under my roof, I will have a say in their decisions! I don’t want them to be like you, running aloof with your partying and making out with random boys!”

“WATCH YOUR MOUTH DENKI!” Tenya raised his voice “that’s my wife you’re bad mouthing! She was young when that happened, she’s nothing like that now!”

“Denki, shut your mouth before you say something regrettable” harshly whispered Kyoka.

“This is some real tea” Lili commented “the twin’s dad is kind of a bigger asshole than I thought!”

“And I thought my dad was controlling!” Hoshi blurted.

“We are going home this instant!” Denki demanded “you can deal with the rest of this but my daughters are my business, lets go girls.”

“NO DADDY!” screamed the twins.

“Excuse me?! Did you just use your no-no volume on me?!” Denki was appalled by the display of rebellion.

“We don’t want to go home yet!” Mifa said as she grabbed her sister’s hand “Dore and I like mixing for them, we feel like ourselves with them and I don’t have to hide anymore!” she takes a deep breath “Mom, dad... I’m gay and there’s nothing you can say or do that will change my mind.”

“And I support her 100 percent” Dore added “I feel like my truest self in this style, the sounds I produce for them and their dancing in response to it makes me feel so good! Like music mixing is something worthwhile and not something I do for money or because somebody asked me to.”

“Girls, is that how you truly feel?” Kyoka walked up to their daughters “Come here, I won’t yell and I’m not upset” she holds her arms out “I just want to hug you” the girls run into their mother’s embrace “I love you and accept you no matter what, no need for rebellion. If you want us to be more understanding, then I’ll listen and let you be yourself in a safe environment.”

“You’re on their side babe?” Denki was having mixed feelings about the situation “I’m sick and tired of being upstaged by you! Miss Perfect Spouse, Parent, Agent, Innovator and everything else!”

“Woah, me?” Ita questioned “Nobody asked you to compete with me! Honestly, it’s like you want me to kick your ass when you wanna challenge me.”

“I challenge you in a dance off!” Denki pointed at Ita “Winner gets to report this, loser has to buy the other a coffee.”

“I see you brought up our little wager from 1st year huh?” Ita smirked “I accept your challenge! Lili.”

“Yes mom?”

“Pull up my hype playlist and pick the 8th song” Ita said as she took off her light jacket and holsters “Hold these for me babe?”

“Gladly! Kick his ass darling” Tenya said as she plopped her things in his arms “kiss for good luck?”

“Yes please!” she eagerly got on her toes to kiss her spouse.

Denki turned to his wife “Will you kiss me good luck?”

“What happened to your tough guy act?” Kyoka sneered “I thought you were too cool for good luck kisses?”

“Aww man, I did say that” Denki recalled and turned around to see his opponent “no matter! You’re going down!”

“Bring it you dumb Pikachu!” Ita teased “Are the beats ready?”

“Locked and loaded mom!” Lili responded and grabbed the mic “Up on the floor is battle of the parents! We got my lovely mama in all white and this man’s in the black track pants, get up and get hype y’all! Pump the beats!”

Lili started the requested song and the two started their battle.

“Get it Shawty by Lloyd!?” Tenya gasped “Denki doesn’t stand a chance!”

Everyone watched as the two danced battle style. It was a close call up until the end of the bridge of the song where Ita flipped into a death drop, causing everyone to scream in shock on how on beat it was. The song ended and the two did their final pose.

Lili picked up the mic again “Alright, alright, alright! That was really close, not gonna lie fam.” she pointed at the two panting adults “Who do yall think won this one? Is it my mom? Or this man’s right here?”

Everyone cheered when Lili hovered her hand over her mom and fell silent when hovered over Denki. “Oof that’s cold” Ita said as she wiped her forehead with her arm “it’s been a hot minute since I’ve strut my stuff like this! But I still got the moves hehe.”

“I hope you’re happy Denki” Kyoka sighed “Lets go home.”

“Do you still love me babe?”

“Yes but you’re the worst dancer” she giggled “I knew you wouldn’t win, but I love that determination of yours.”

“You were amazing darling!” Tenya said as he picked up his wife “I’m proud to call you my wife.”

He starts attacking her with kisses “Tenya please! You’re embarrassing me in front of the kids!”

“Hm? Can’t I love my wife publicly?!” He paused his kisses “Does it embarrass you Lili?”

“No but please get a room!” Lili snapped “It’s one thing to do this at the house, another to do this at our Ki Ki.”

“Oh right!” He puts his wife down, remembering why they’re there “We’ll be off now.”

“But please know that this has been brought to the attention of the school for the wrong reasons” Ita spoke up “But that doesn’t mean that has to be stopped! I will report this as non-lethal activity and fight for extracurriculars in hero schools.” She smiles “So that way, if passed and approved, you can do all this in a safe environment and at a more reasonable time.”

“You mean it? You’ll do that for us?” said one in the group.

“Of course! I’ve been an advocate for well-rounded education in hero schools for quite some time now” she explained “yeah you’re training to be heroes and fight crime, but you’re still kids! You should be able to do non-hero activities in school, make friends outside of your program and express yourself.”

The couple left and the group packed up early. Later, the petition to start extracurriculars in hero-schools started as promised. The group decided to hold off rooftop Ki Ki’s for a while until there was a say on the matter.

-Late May, in Homeroom-

“Okay class, settle down” sensei said to start class “I’m excited to announce that we’ll be training at the USJ in two weeks in duos.”

I gasped as turned to look at Hoshi and they had the same idea.

“BUT! I’ll be choosing the pairs” sensei broke the news, the class groaned “No complaints! I’m doing this so you can work with others in different situations. In the real world, your friends aren’t going to the same agency as you and new people cycle in and out all the time. This training will help with that.”

“Aww wack” I slumped in my seat “I work best with you!”

“I don’t do well without somebody on the offense” Hoshi replied “there’s only so much I can do.”

Sensei announced the pairs and I got stuck with Toei-kun. Now, Toei is the class dumbass. You look at him and wonder how the hell he got into UA! He got in through recommendation of his grandparents, UA alumni. He’s got a good quirk but his reaction times and strategy are the absolute worst. I guess it doesn’t matter, I’ll be the brain-cell of this team.

What can I say now other than it’s spring time? Iwa’s birthday passed, the sports festival passed and I didn’t do that much better than last time. But since then, I’ve had a support item done for me and a costume re-vamp. I got ribbon twirlers as my quick use lasso so I can stop using the ones in my hair. My costume got added sleeves and new obi with durable fabric. Plus, I’ve upgraded my mask for something in the same shape but that will actually protect my eyes. It’s so weird to know that I’ll be turning 18 soon, mom tells me that’s legal adult age in American culture! I planned a party but I didn’t account for hero school dorming when I planned it when I was 12. But that won’t stop me! This year it falls on a Friday, so I can celebrate day of at the dorms and a family celebration at home on the weekend. I told Hoshi all the details and he’s making sure everything will go according to plan.

-Mid June, Training in the gym-

“Come on dude!” I groan at my partner “I can’t save you every time! All you had to do is take two steps to the left to avoid that rock blast!”

“Sorry Iida-san, I really thought I was done for that time” praised Toei “We make a great team!”

“Actually Toei-kun, according to the class ranking” the class rep held up a clipboard “Your team is in last place, Iida-san is the main point earner in both combat and rescue. Which is weird because we aren’t doing rescuing practice, she’s earning points by rescuing you.”

I peer at the clipboard and saw our points and scoring “Oh man, sensei is giving us pity points at this point! And we still aren’t close to begin to surpass the next team!”

“Hey, points are points!” Toei commented, unaware how badly we’re doing in the ranking “We’ll be tops in no time! We’re two of the best!”

“Ho! Don’t lump yourself with her Toei” warned the class rep, pushing up his glasses “Sensei paired you and her together because you’re one of the bottom students, Iida-san had a higher standing than you in everything.”

“Oh” Toei quickly deflated “Man, I really thought I was doing well.”

“May a suggest you take up some tutoring with the class rep?!” I chimed in “They have the best grades in the class!”

The class rep blushed “I mean- um, I do have good grades” he covered his face with the clipboard “You don’t have to talk so highly of me Iida-san, it’s not fair.”

“Can you Hashima-kun?!” Toei perked up “Don’t be shy! I need help, won’t you please tutor me?”

The class rep nods, still beet red. That made me curious, does he still like me? It wasn’t that long ago when he confessed to me and we had that awkward date. But why does he still act like this?

-Later in the dorms-

There was a knock at my door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Hashima, may I come in?”

I quickly put on a shirt and kicked my dirty laundry under the bed “Okay, come in!” I say as I causally pretend I didn’t just do a boob check on myself.

“Were you busy?” he says as he walks in.

“Oh not at all! I just finished reading the book for literature” a total lie but I wasn’t going to admit I was groping myself in the mirror for like an hour “What brings you to my room? Hoshi is studying with his partner.”

“It’s alright, I came to give you this parcel that’s addressed to you” he hands me a flat packing box “it was in the mail bin and I guess it was overlooked.”

“For me? Thanks” I accepted the box and saw who sent it “Oh! It’s from grandpa Hakamada!” I rip open the box “Oh FUCK! It’s the silks I asked for training! I’ve been having such a difficult time getting my hands on real silk to test out” I gush “I wanna see if this is more effective than muslin since it’s stronger and looks prettier-” I catch myself geeking out “Oh um, sorry, I really get into fabrics and fashion heh.”

“Oh it’s quite alright” the class rep responded with a smile “It’s like me with hero facts and history. Say, can I ask you a question?”

“Uh sure?” I could tell that it had to do with our brief dating.

“Did you like me at all when we dated?” He sat at the foot of the bed “I was just remembering all the things I said and how I didn’t do what you wanted to do.”

“I wanted to see if I could” I sighed “to be honest, the moment you set that boba drink in front of me, I wanted to call it all off.”

“That would’ve devastated me but why did you stick it through?” He was shocked at my honesty.

“I wanted to seem like I was a likeable person” I sat on the bed “And if you confessed and admire me, then I must be, because I don’t think of myself like that. Like, what makes me so special? What’s something you see in me that I don’t? How do you feel around me that I don’t feel?”

“You didn’t have to prove all that, I would’ve understood if you wanted to leave at any point of that date” he looked at me with meekness “Lots of people think you’re likeable, I for one think you’re amazing! I wish I was as brave and bold as you are.”

“What?” I was confused.

“You just openly express yourself and not care about what others think! You stand up for others and win every time” he turned red and his voice got racked up in nerves “And- um, you’re really pretty. N-NOT THAT I WISH I WAS PRETTY! But, you’re also really nice. I saw when you started sewing that dress for the dance just to not go and give it to Hanagi-san. All the makings of a hero” he sighed “I’m jealous of Togata-kun, he sees you all the time and get’s treated by your generosity everyday. Bet he’s a better man than I am, lucky you.”

“We’re not-”

He puts his hand up to silence me “Say what you want about it, but you and Togata-kun are perfect for each other” he stands up to leave “For someone who doesn’t remember names very well, you sure picked up on his real fast.”

He leaves and I sit there, feeling very attacked. Oof, is it that obvious? I can’t know for sure until I hear it from the source.

-Chapter 11, End-

#mha #bnha #self insert au #book 2 chapter 11 #not canon #will update regularly #ask me anything #//Palma-sama Speaks #a delayed chapter due to the more pressing irl events. I decided to postpone this so I don't clog the tl with something not contributing #BUT! I have it here now and I'm putting it out there...these kids support the Black Lives Matter movement and against police brutality.#Protest aside... this is one of the last chapters in this book! And I swear I'm gonna post that character sheet before this book ends!!!#Yall like the parents interacting? Bc I do as character development with the canon characters in my AU #Also! Rat principal is deceased at this point of the story and it's an important plot device for late (shhhh!)#Next is one of my favorite chapters in this book! You could say it's the rising action of the story... hold on to your gay hats kids!#My goal is to finish this book by the end of Pride month! Not because the kids are gay but bc it gets G A Y E R... so stay tuned!

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Galactica, Chapter 62 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: The assistant gossip network continued to do its thing, while Courtney lived her best life, Sutan offered Violet some wardrobe assistance, and Bianca planned a coming out.

This Chapter: The Galactica Holiday Party has arrived, and not everyone is prepared...

***

“Remember to find your light!”

Gigi turned her head, trying as hard as she could not to squeeze her eyes shut, the studio lights blinding.

“I said find it, not stare into the sun!”

Gigi blushed and moved her head again, doing her best to try and follow the instructions Sutan kept giving her.

They were in a photo studio in the Bronx, Gigi to get her first pictures for her portfolio taken, while Symone had practiced how to shoot in swimwear, her friend now waiting with her phone for Gigi to finish up.

Gigi had watched Symone move around, completely enthralled by how elegant the other model already was, Sutan barely correcting her.

“Straighten your back!” Gigi did as she was told, a pair of black jeans hugging her body, the long sleeved black shirt she was wearing clinging to her arms.

“Excuse me...” The photographer, who had introduced herself as Widow, looked out from behind her camera, “can I do my job in peace?” Widow smiled even though her tone was clearly sassy, her teeth blindingly white, her black box braids collected in a high bun. She was wearing a black leather jacket and jeans, big red earrings hanging from her ears.

“You know what I hired you for,” Sutan smiled back, and Widow rolled her eyes, making Gigi giggle.

“Yes sir, right away sir,” Widow teased.

“Don’t give the models any ideas with your attitude.” Sutan grinned, his sleeves rolled up around his elbows, refocusing on Gigi who had tried to hold the position he had asked for.

“No, not like, you have to be more.” Sutan moved his shoulders, and Gigi tried to copy it. She knew they were doing this shoot so she could get an idea of what she looked like, so she could train what Sutan called her inner photographer, but it was really difficult.

“No, still not right.” Sutan stepped on the set, getting next to Gigi, the scent of his cologne instantly catching her nose. “Your strength is in your lines Gigi, so you have to stand tall. Use those legs of yours,” He smiled, tapping his own left leg and moving it forward, mirroring what Gigi hoped she was doing. “Try this.”

Gigi moved her leg to copy Sutan, her entire center of balance shifting.

“There we go!” Sutan grinned. “Good job. Now hold it, and find your light.”

***

Violet tried to turn to the side, watching her profile in the big mirror on the back wall of the dressing room.

Her and Sutan had each been swept up by a personal shopper the moment they stepped inside Barney’s, Violet whisked away to the woman's clothes department where everything was outrageously expensive and completely new.

Violet was wearing a beautiful red dress, the hemline just off the floor, her cast barely visible if she stood completely still, which suited her perfectly well.

Violet had every plan to get to the Christmas party, sit down, and then hopefully not move again for the rest of the night, Jovan’s offer of bedazzling her crutches still making her shiver.

“So, what do we think?” Violet’s shopper smiled, the woman standing behind her, her pile of rejected dresses four times the size of the approved ones for the upcoming events, but she couldn’t help being extremely critical, not when everything was so stupidly expensive.

“Well…” Violet looked in the mirror. The dress suited her, even though it didn’t sit snugly at her waist, but that wasn’t something a loose loop stitch couldn’t fix so she could undo it again later and hopefully keep the dress longer. It hadn’t been Violet’s intention to lose weight, and if she was being honest, she had actually expected to gain with a broken foot, but it seemed like that hadn’t been the case, her appetite even worse than usual, her pain killers often making it feel like she had knives stabbing her stomach.

“I’ll take it.”

Violet knew that the dress would be approved by Fame, and loved by Sutan, the low neckline and the opportunity for matching underwear always a treat.

***

“Kat? Are you gonna be okay?” Trixie asked, voice soft.

They were sitting in a little cafe across from her doctor’s office. They’d just gotten the official news - she was pregnant, no doubt about it. She’d put on a transparently false, cheerful face while they were there but barely said two words since they’d left, a croissant and mango smoothie sitting in front of her, untouched.

According to the doctor’s best estimate, she was 14 weeks along, which already limited their options, a fairly invasive procedure now the only way to go if they didn’t want the baby.

She looked at him, blue eyes clear, and said, “I don’t know.”

Trixie nodded, taking her hand in his and holding it lightly. He didn’t want to push her too much, could tell that she was in a fragile state of mind.

“Well...I’m here if there’s anything…Anything I can do.”

“Got a flask on you?” she asked drily, then closed her eyes, immediately chagrined. “I’m sorry, that’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny, babe.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, the two of them sitting side by side, their fingers intertwined.

***

Roxy looked up as Courtney rounded the corner from Miss Fame’s office, flashing her a bright smile. She had just gotten yet another delivery--Roxy was fast becoming BFFs with Greg, the Marie Claire office runner.

“Hey Rox! Whatcha got for me?”

“Hi, Court,” Roxy said, eyeing her suspiciously before handing over the bag, wondering why she was so perky today.

Courtney looked inside the bag and saw what Roxy had already - a large black velvet jewelry box.

“Open it,” Roxy said, and Courtney pulled it out, peeking inside before snapping it closed again. “Come on, you’re not gonna show me?”

A smile pulled at Courtney’s lips, and she leaned forward onto the reception desk, voice low, saying, “You wanna know something?”

“Yes, of course!” Roxy perked up. Was Courtney finally about to admit to her affair with Bianca Del Rio? It was gonna be a hell of a lot easier once she didn’t have to pretend to be in the dark anymore.

“You know how I said that I’ve been...uh...seeing someone who works at Marie Claire?”

“Yeah…you gonna tell me who?”

“Well, no,” she said, and off Roxy’s annoyed scoff, added, “But...we’re coming to the party tonight...together.”

“Oh really?” Roxy’s eyebrows shot up. This actually was pretty decent information, given the potential shit storm it could cause. The drama of Miss Fame’s assistant dating one of her best friends, and them showing up together to a company event? Absolutely delicious.

“Yeah, so...I guess you’ll find out soon enough,” Courtney said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I guess I will,” Roxy agreed, smiling placidly, already typing out a DM to Bob.

***

Fame breathed a sigh of relief as the car pulled up to the hotel she had chosen for the Galactica Christmas Party. The facade was decorated with dripping ice crystals, lights and fake snow making it the winter wonderland she had envisioned. The red carpet had been rolled out, guests already posing for photos and talking to reporters about their clothes, Fame recognizing the signature cameras from E! Network and one of Vogue’s journalists.

She had gotten the confirmation from Shangela that the string quartet had shown up, the musicians hired for the lounge area while the caterers had set up shop in the enchanted forest filled with actual pine trees, the bar carrying a line of gins specifically brewed for the event.

“So,” Patrick lifted an eyebrow, a curious expression on his face. The majority of Fame’s skirt was in her husband's lap since she refused to let the silk anywhere near the bottom of the car. “how are we feeling?”

“Me?” Fame smiled, leaning over to press a kiss against his cheek “Quite content.”

***

“Are you sure I can’t talk you into walking the carpet?”

Sutan looked over at Violet, the two of them on the bottom of the steps leading up to the hotel, Raja and Raven already halfway inside. Raja was in a tight-fitting emerald green suit with a deep cleavage, her hair twisted into a gorgeous updo, while Raven was dressed in a floor length gown in matching green, the two of them looking absolutely stunning together.

“Yes.” The message was clear, and Sutan could feel the tiniest curl of irritation in his stomach. Violet was beyond beautiful, her usually pink nails carefully painted the same red shade as her dress, a tiny purse slung over her shoulders, her black hair curled and spilling over her shoulders and back, her posture perfect even though she was leaning on her crutch, only one of them allowed to come along.

He wanted those pictures of them together, even if it was selfish.

“Lovely eyes-”

“I said no.” Violet’s tone left no room for argument, and Sutan pressed his lips together, taking a deep breath through his nose not to let his irritation win out.

“Sutan,” Violet reached out, gently touching his arm. “This isn’t a you issue, it’s a me issue. I’d love to go up there and be on your arm like a dainty little princess or trophy-”

“What?” Sutan raised an eyebrow. He had never thought of Violet as a princess, or even dainty, the muscles he knew she had and the iron will he had seen her possess over and over again so much more attractive than any trophy girlfriend could be. “That’s not what-”

“I know,” Violet squeezed, underlining her words, “But I’d honestly rather jump into traffic than talk to a single one of those reporters, and risk showing up in any of their publications.”

Sutan snorted, Violet’s dark sense of humor as always getting to him. He knew it also had to do with her relationship to her family, Violet’s choked hospital confession still rumbling around in his head, what little he had managed to piece together telling its clear story of a gossip magazine-obsessed mother, his girlfriend posing for his own mothers old canon camera at Thanksgiving without any issues.

“Okay, but promise me,” Sutan took a step, bringing them closer, his hand finding it’s now familiar place on Violet’s waist, “that I can get one soon.”

“A photo?” Violet raised an eyebrow, their hips almost touching, her free hand on his chest.

“Mmh, just for the two of us.”

“I’ll consider it,” Violet smiled, her fingers gently rearranging his tie, making sure it was sitting completely straight. “If you promise me that we can get a cab home.”

“A cab?” They had arrived with Raja and Raven, a driver coming back to pick all four of them up at the end of the night, “Why?”

“Because you, Mr. Amrull, look fucking fantastic tonight,” Violet looked up at him, a smirk on her lips, “and I wanna make out in the backseat.”

“You ready?” Bianca asked, looking over at Courtney as their car pulled up to the curb.

Courtney glanced outside, where a crowd of photographers and reporters were gathered, stomach seizing with the reality of what she was about to do, wondering if it was a mistake. Even walking the carpet with Bianca instead of taking the normal entrance with the rest of the support staff suddenly seemed audacious.

“No,” she admitted, looking back at Bianca apologetically. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Would it help if I told you how absolutely gorgeous you look?” Bianca asked, reaching out to take her hand.

Her outfit for the night was probably the most conservative of all the dresses Dan had pulled for her - a black dress--low cut, but not in a slutty way with a little bow at the front and full circle skirt, paired with a pair of Bianca’s beautiful multicolored Louboutins and simple, classy jewelry--including a glamorous strand of pink pearls that Bianca had sent over earlier in the day.

In spite of her nerves, Courtney couldn’t help but smile a little at the compliment, proud of the care she’d taken with her hair and makeup, hoping to make Bianca proud. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and responded with a cheeky, “Look who’s talking…”

Bianca grinned, and Courtney was once again struck by how fantastic she looked, in a red silk organza cocktail dress, the floaty feminine fabric accentuating her curves perfectly, a deep v-neck giving the perfect peek at her cleavage.

“What if we just stayed in the car for awhile?” Courtney suggested, fluttering her lashes.

“I promise to make it worth your while later, angel.” Bianca squeezed her hand, pulling her in close. “But right now, I’m pretty excited to show you off. So whaddaya say?”

Courtney took a deep breath, the churning in her stomach now a combination of nerves and excitement.

“Okay.”

Bianca signalled to the driver, who quickly got out and walked around to open their door.

“Here we go…” Bianca gave her hand one final squeeze and got out, giving the flashing cameras a polite wave before reaching back in to help her out.

Courtney’s mind was a mess. She suddenly had so many concurrent anxieties, like tripping on the carpet, or being dragged to filth by come gossip rag, or, given how lightheaded she now felt, fainting, here in front of all these people. She tried to steady herself, and Bianca’s arm slid securely around her waist.

“I’ve got you, don’t worry. You look amazing,” Bianca murmured in her ear.

Bianca led her down the carpet--a true professional, posing and smiling, calmly directing Courtney so that she knew where to stand and where to look, chatting jovially with reporters.

“Who’s your date, Bianca?” one of them asked boldly.

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Bianca joked back. They’d discussed this ahead of time - better to keep Courtney’s name out of things for the moment, given her job title. Courtney understood, and agreed, and was even a bit relieved. For now, on gossip sites and fashion blogs, she’d just be ‘BDR’s latest blonde,’ and she was very much okay with that. After all, the people that mattered to both of them would know, and that’s what she cared about.

“Well, is it serious?” another piped up.

“You tell me,” Bianca said, and then Courtney really thought she might faint, Bianca pressing a sweet kiss to her cheek as about a billion flashbulbs went off in their faces, murmuring, “You’re doing perfectly, angel.”

She turned to Bianca, gazing at her with breathless admiration, feeling like the luckiest girl in the entire world. And then she took Bianca’s face in her hands and impulsively kissed her, right on the mouth, soft but sure. So what if it was only a fling? Courtney didn’t care anymore--she would remember this high for the rest of her life.

Bianca smiled against her mouth and whispered, “Well, that’ll make headlines...”

“Oops,” Courtney whispered back, both of them giggling.

They broke apart, matching grins on their faces as they looked into each other’s eyes, until Bianca turned back to the sea of paparazzi, now in a frenzy, shouting out questions too fast for Courtney to even process the words.

“That’s enough for you demons!” Bianca called, gently pulling Courtney up the steps, giving one last smiling wave at the top, Courtney’s hand still clasped in hers.

“Are you done?”

“Nope!”

Raja hid her grin, her shoulder touching Raven’s as they posed for the camera, her fiancée radiating excitement as she chatted and flirted with the photographers.

Raven had always adored the camera, and if there was a journalist behind it, she was practically in love, getting caught by the paparazzi a treat for her each and every time it happened.

Raja didn’t feel the same thrill, didn’t care as much about showing up in gossip magazines and websites since she had gotten more than enough of that in her youth, but she couldn’t be truly upset when it generated so many great pictures, Raven often looking sexy as sin when she got caught leaving the gym.

“Raja! Over here!”

Raja turned her head, the photographer catching her attention, and that was when she saw them, Bianca coming up a little ways behind her.

Seeing Bianca on a red carpet wasn’t strange, but what was frankly bizarre was the familiar blonde at her side.

Raja had expected Fame’s assistant to be somewhere in the crowd, since it was a company party and a big treat for the staff, but what the fuck was she doing on the red carpet? The support staff was supposed to enter the party through the normal pedestrian entrance.

And then, Bianca put her arm around Courtney’s waist, kissing her cheek as she giggled girlishly.

Oh, fuck.

This was not good. Frankly, Raja wasn’t shocked that Bianca had been messing with Courtney, her behavior at the meeting last week making it painfully obvious that she liked her. But this, this was next level.

Just when she thought it couldn’t get any more embarrassing, Raja witnessed something that made her blood run cold. Courtney grasped Bianca’s face in her hands and kissed her on the lips, causing absolute chaos from the group of paparazzi around them.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Raven looked up at her, a concerned and confused expression on her beautiful face.

“Wait here.” Raja released Raven, leaving her behind on the carpet, prepared to ambush Bianca the second she got to the doors.

Bianca had done a lot of stupid shit over the years - they all had - and dating bimbos wasn’t a new thing for her, but making out with Fame’s assistant in front of the paparazzi?

That was a new level of braindead, even for her, and Raja had to stop it right now.

The moment Bianca stepped off the carpet, she felt someone grab her arm and roughly yank her into the lobby.

“Bianca!” Raja hissed, pulling at her arm. “Come here!”

“Ow!” Bianca laughed at Raja. “Let go of me, you fucking mountain gorilla!”

Just because the woman towered over her was no reason to be intimidated, and it was gonna take a hell of a lot more to bring her down at the moment than Raja looking at her like she was insane.

Beside her, Courtney let out a small gasp, and Raja tried to recover, putting an arm around Bianca’s shoulder and giving Courtney the most sugary-sweet, fakest voice she could manage to say, “Hey there Court, can you give us a minute? I have to chat with Bianca about something important. Great shoes, by the way.”

“Oh...yeah, alright. Um…” Courtney backed away, trying to give them some space. “I’ll just wait over here, then-”

“Perfect!” Raja dragged Bianca to the other end of the lobby, away from any reporters.

“This oughta be good,” Bianca grumbled, though she was still too hyped from the carpet to manage to be truly annoyed.

“What,” Raja pushed Bianca into a corner, inches from her face, her voice filled with venom though her eyes betrayed her geniune concern, “the actual fuck do you think you’re doing, Bianca?!”

“Wanna be more specific?” Bianca asked, tilting her head, an impish smile on her face.

"It's bad enough that you're fucking Fame's assistant, but to parade her around on the red carpet? Without even bothering to give us a heads-up? Are you insane?" Raja’s teeth were clenched, clearly trying to keep her voice down.

"Please. Our relationship has nothing to do with-"

"Relationship? Are you actually calling this a relationship?"

"Yes!" Now, Bianca was starting to get annoyed. Who the fuck did Raja think she was talking to?

"Oy, this is so much worse than I thought,” Raja groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Please don't tell me this is why you bailed on the tasting menu."

"So what if I did?"

"Oh god."

"Fuck you!"

"And what did you expect to happen, Bianca? What's your great master plan with this childish stunt?"

“Well...to be honest, I didn’t know she was gonna kiss me on the carpet,” Bianca admitted, a giggle slipping from her lips. “It was kinda cute, did you see?”

“I...am going to slap you.”

“Come on, Raj. I did give this whole thing a little thought.”

“Really? It doesn’t fucking seem like it!”

“Well, I have. Look, I know she’s gonna be pissed, but I also know she’s not gonna cause a scene in the middle of the party. And then after tonight, she’s got almost a full week to cool off before she has to see me again,” Bianca said, punctuating her statement with a charming smile. Bianca was no idiot. Of course she knew that Fame would be irritated, maybe even angry, but she figured that this was a situation where it would be easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. And besides, if she had to endure her friend’s wrath for awhile in exchange for being free to put her relationship with Courtney out into the open, then so be it.

“That’s what you think will happen?” Raja huffed. “Bianca, please, Fame hasn’t seen you guys yet. If we get Courtney out the back door, we can make an alliance with Patrick to get Fame drunk and unplug the wifi tomorrow so she doesn’t go online. It’ll be like it never happened, and we'll never speak of it again.”

“Raj, listen. I know this might be a real clusterfuck, but I’m willing to accept the consequences.”

“Oh jesus help me.” Raja groaned. “I hope she’s worth it, Bianca.” She pulled away, shaking her head. “I really hope she’s worth it.”

As she walked away, Bianca took a deep breath, looking back across the lobby at Courtney, who was doing a terrible job of trying to look casual, the anxiety on her face clear as day. Bianca sent her a big smile, reaching out a hand, and Courtney rushed toward her.

“Was she mad?” she asked, brows creased with worry.

Bianca cupped her face lightly, stroking her cheek, and promised, “Not at you.”

“Okay.” Courtney bit her lip, and Bianca leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“Shall we?” she asked, gesturing to the ballroom.

“Yeah...in a minute…” Courtney said, immediately adding, “I’m sorry.”

“Take your time, angel. There’s no rush,” Bianca promised. “In fact, if you’d rather get out of here and go somewhere else-”

“No, no, no…” Courtney laughed, taking her hand. “I’m fine. Let’s go in.”

9 notes · View notes

breadzine · 3 years

Text

Module 103

Editorial practice for the fashion environment

Save the dates : visiting lecturers , Denzel currie(curry goat , influencer , illustrator)

12th of March

Rachel Thomas : creative director worked with Hermes , off. White , Nike , Victoria Beckham and vogue

8th of June 12pm deadline , digital submission

Checklist

Digital zine featuring fashion editorial content

Needs to me aligned the themes , launches , community , sport of music

Choose A/W 21/22 autumn winter or newest collection

Think of new brands , why they are interesting at the moment

POTENTIAL BRANDS

- [x] ESSENTIALS FEAR OF GOD

HOUSE OF SUNNY BRAND

SISTERS AND SEEKERS

MYAEMADE

500-700 words with accompanying 3-8 images

Chosen brand has to appeal to the same reader as your chosen theme

Interview or investigation

Ask to interview

Olivia grace herring

Lissy Roddy

Lauren Crowe

Leah abott

Lecture

Look at the themes and industry partner

What’s the usp

Unique point/ preposition

Format of the zine is up to you

A zine is independent, very diy and independently published , niche and tangible

We will be working with size

Launches -

Launches of a new product that’s coming out

Opinion pieces

One product that’s going to be launched on one date eg supreme drop or exclusive trainer drop

Think about a LOOK-BOOK

Community- eg enthusiasts

Feminists , blm movement

Culture

Sport -

Athlesuire ? Sort that has influenced fashion

Sporty spice

Music -

Old school hip hop linked with fashion

Drum and bass

Format needs to be A5

Minimum of 7 DPS (14 pages )

(8pages )

TASKS FOR 103 TO GO INTO WORKBOOK

Task 1

What is a zine ?

Zine short for fanzine

It’s a creative platform kind of like a blog

Definition from wiki : self-published work of original or appropriated texts and images, usually reproduced via a copy machine. Zines are the product of either a single person or of a very small group, and are popularly photocopied into physical prints for circulation

How does it differ ?

What’s the history of zines ?

Look at 3 examples of zines

3 examples of zines

1. ILLUMINATI GIRL GANG -about feminism started with a tumblr blog addresses online debates surrounding women in the art world.

https://www.peopleofprint.com/collective/illuminati-girl-gang/

https://www.polyesterzine.com

2. Polyester zine - a print magazine by ione gamble

3. Based in New Jersey and made "by teens, for teens," Crybaby is only a year old, but has already gained a cult following, each issue selling out almost as soon as it's released. This zine is all about growing up, and its contributors have no issue getting into the nitty gritty of adolescence — experimenting with your style included. GEN Z zine

4. Hate zine - explore politics and social justice through art, photography, writing, poetry and music. In print and online. Representing people from different backgrounds; female voices are important; giving young artists and writers a means to publish their work; articles that touch upon the shit that's going on; and not presenting real issues in an ignorant, glossy way," she said. All these zines combine visuals, fashion, and social justice in a way that mainstream media often seems to struggle executing. Not only will you be able to learn about current issues alongside underground trends, as well as discover new creative talent both in the beauty industry and outside it, but by supporting these independent zines, you'll know that you're money is going to those who can use it to further the causes you care about most.

https://www.hatezine.co.uk

Source - https://www.bustle.com/articles/150513-7-fashion-zines-to-support-if-you-love-underground-political-style-photos

Task 2

Potential title : How black artists paved the way for old skool hip hop

What is your angle ?

To show how black culture has always played a huge part in fashion and music

Theme - Music

How POC changed the music game with “old skool hip hop “and how this influenced the fashion industry and still does

Key words

Nas , biggie , Tupac , eazy e , n.w.a

Chosen brand

https://www.google.co.uk/amp/s/amp.theatlantic.com/amp/article/557474/

Task 3

Look at at least 3 journalists I’ve screen-shotted that I don’t already know seek out their work & start with their SM or a google search

Make a note of everything that I’ve read in the workbook

Recap on tasks

Module 103- the editors letter

“Welcome to my world”

What editorial is

Anything that’s not paid for or sponsored content

Features

Articles

Interviews

Opinion pieces

Photography

Design

Illustrations

Listings

Editors letter - editorial overview or policy

Can be called a mission statement or manifesto as well

Gives

Reputation, integrity

Promise ethics and niche

Should welcome and intrigue the reader

What are media kits?

Useful for if you’re looking at certain groups of consumers

Look at vogues media kit or pack in to google

Not all kits have them

The kit comes from the publisher

500-700 words

“ for the people by the people “

Think about pages colour matte black looks nice

Research Poster zine & club sandwich

Potential titles

Ninety

Or something to do with 90’s slang

“noventa”

Look into rappers second ethnicity’s choose most popular language to write ninety’s in

103 lecture 3

Editor / editor in cheif

Lots of different types

Junior stylist / fashion assistant

They would be working for the main stylist or creative director

More organisational work , it’s about co ordinating , working on set , getting the samples in , sometimes planning shoots and meetings

Director of photography

In charge Studio manager of photographyer

Helping prep things , looking at casting equipment, studio hiring, helping with hospitality and technical aspects

Digital / social editor

Social media person would be the leader

Would be helping to create content

Would be analysing what’s worked in the past , what trends are popular

Art director/ creative director

Responsible the visible style and the publication of the object and the branding in the bigger picture

Working with stylists and photographers and content creators and designers

Big role

Graphic designer

Thinks about how they can design or suprise the customer base

Publication design

The branding of the magazine

They might work on pos , store identity & visuals

More often called designers

The flip side of working with the press

Working with the press

Pr intern assistant

Would work under press officer

Helping a brand reach out to press and get editorial content

Doing press influencer days

0 notes

unclecrizzle · 7 years

Text

A BLOG POST ABOUT ME & MY AOL EMAIL ADDRESS

I’ve been applying for jobs for about seven years, and I recently came to the conclusion that, maybe, the reason why I’m so unemployed is because of my email address.

You see, I still have the email address I first got when I received my first laptop – a Hewlett-Packard Pavilion, by the way – way back on my 24th birthday, back in 2000. I was kinda proud of my email; I named it after the original name of James Wolcott’s TV column in the Village Voice back in the ‘70s. I had two previous emails: one was given me by my alma mater, Texas Southern University, and the other one I got back in the late ’90s though Hotmail, which I don’t think is active anymore.

Yeah, my email has been with me through thick and thin, which is why I still use it today. The problem is it’s an AOL email address – and if you still have an AOL email address in 2017, you’re an old fart who doesn’t know a gotdamn thing about anything.

Yes, if you are still rocking an AOL email, you’re out of the game. You’re elderly. You’re antiquated. You watch Matlock. You piss on yourself on the way to the bathroom. But, most of all, it gives people the impression that you’re out of touch. I’ve had a couple of people bust my balls about my email. I was on a radio show back in Raleigh and I blurted out that I have an AOL email. The host said that anyone who has an AOL email should not be trusted. When I asked her on the air why, she didn’t exactly have an answer. She was trying to be funny on the mic and I called her on it, something she obviously wasn’t expecting. When we got off the air, she said we didn’t have any on-air chemistry. When she said that, I thought, “No, you just say stupid shit on the air and I wasn’t gonna let you get away with it.”

In all my years of having an AOL email, it’s treated me quite well. I send out email. I get email – and it’s all for free! (I know, at some point, you had to pay for AOL, but I stopped doing that and they were OK with it.) That’s all I ever gotdamn wanted from my email. I never felt the need to make a switch. I figured if my email account did what it was supposed to do, what’s the big, freakin’ deal?

I don’t know when it happened (probably around ’06-’07), but AOL went out of vogue with the public. And if you’re associated with those muhfuckas, you’re just as played out as they are. I’ve held on for the longest, still hanging on to my AOL email for business and personal use. People I’ve done business with never had any complaints about it. I even believed I was ironically cool still having my email, since I read a Vulture piece that several celebs still had their AOL emails.

But, not too long ago, I asked myself, is my email getting in the way of obtaining steady work? I’ve gotten rejection email after rejection email – the most recent one was for a customer-service rep gig I applied for with the Houston Public Library. Then, I started asking around: does having an AOL email hinder your chances of getting a job? I went online with it, with some people telling me it doesn’t matter, while others told me it so does.

First of all, to all those who have turned me down because of my AOL email over the years, you’re the reason why the world blows and, you know, fuck you. Call me crazy, but I always thought that when it came to hiring people, you should judge people by their talent or experience, not because of superficial horseshit like what kind of email they use. It’s just a gotdamn email – it doesn’t sum up who you are as a person. I don’t know why I thought getting a job was any different from trying to get a woman to like you. Whether it’s at work or out in the dating world, it’s always what’s on the outside that counts.

I finally got the message and got a Gmail email. I gotta admit, after having it for five minutes, I felt kinda dirty. I felt like I betrayed who I was and tried to do something fresh and hip for all the youngins out there. Well, I’m gonna start using my Gmail address for trying to land work. But I’m still gonna have my AOL account up and running, because I’m still a loyal muhfucka.

Anyway, if you wanna hit me up for work, you can hit me up at [email protected].

If you just wanna holler at a brotha and talk about whatever, you can hit me up at [email protected].

#aol #gmail

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frankalexanderfilms · 7 years

Text

In 2017, what is the best video editing program?

I have been editing video since I can remember, starting in middle school on tape decks, moving to a black MacBook and iMovie circa 2005. As what I wanted to do with video grew, so did my needs in a video editing program.

When I started film school 8 years ago, Final Cut Pro 7 was in vogue and I learned it. It had its quirks, but at the time it was the best editing software by far.

That was until apple released Final Cut X in 2011 to a rabid user base that basically wanted to crucify them for messing with their precious Final Cut. Most of these users just wanted updated features, pretty much just A Final Cut 8. Apple decided to gut the program and rewrite every line of code, to better prepare it for the future of editing.

In use, it was buggy and was missing many key features that editors needed. Features like XML import and export, server support, multicam editing, chapter markers, and broadcast monitor support. Final Cut X was branded iMovie pro and most Final Cut 7 users left to other video editing software.

At the time there were only 2 viable alternatives to Final Cut, Avid Media Composer and Adobe Premiere Pro. Avid was poised to take over Film and Television editing and Premiere pretty much took everyone else.

I made the choice to become a Premiere user. Premiere has great after effects integration, and was able to edit any type of footage from its native file type. At the time, most video editing software needed to be transcoded/converted to its preferred video file type to be edited. Final Cut had Prores and Avid had DNXHD. With premiere you didn’t have to waste time converting anything, you could edit right away, saving hours or days of post production time.

I still never liked premiere. It always ran like crap on every Mac I installed it on, no matter how powerful the machine. Premiere was originally a PC program, and was never truly optimized to run on Macs. This led many editors to switch to PC’s to recapture some of the speed and reliability they longed for.

My original professional background was in IT and data recovery, basically I fixed PC’s. PC’s are cheap garbage, no matter what brand you buy. There just isn’t a PC brand that can match the build quality that Apple has, I really wish their was. Even if there was, Windows is just crap. I have never had a PC running windows last more than 3 months of my use without crashing, but every Mac I have owned has lasted and lasted. My mother still uses my 2005 black MacBook to this day, good luck using a 12 year old PC.

I won’t go back to PC, I know the flaws in their software and hardware and just won’t put myself through hours of waiting on geek squad service.

So for the last 5 years, I have been running premiere. Dealing with crashes, corrupted project files, green frames in my footage, and general sluggishness on my Mac.

I tried Avid, but my opinion is that Avid is for video editors that only edit video. What I mean is that Avid is for editors who work as part of a larger team with someone to do the sound, someone to do the color and someone to do the titles. Basically you need another program/person to do anything else besides edit video. This is fine is some work environments, and can be the optimized way of working for many editors. I know Avid has built in tools, but for the most part they are not very good or they are dated.

I personally usually work alone because of tight budgets. I cannot afford to hire anyone else, and I need to efficiently do all the work required of me. If premiere wasn’t such a badly coded piece of software, it would be perfect for this. Adobe comes with sound, graphics, and color software allowing you to do everything you need.

Once Davinci Resolve’s editing panel because more fleshed out, I tried that out. It was okay, and will probably work great for many editors. I ultimately didn’t use it because it’s audio editing options were very limited. I need to use EQ, compression, low and high cut filters, and noise reduction to provide clean professional audio for my clients. Resolve just didn’t cut it.

Then late last year, I had a client who needed their projects edited in Final Cut X. I decided to give it a whirl and began my journey to relearn Final Cut. I had kept in touch with final cut since I left it, always checking in to see how it was doing but never staying.

I was pleasantly surprised! All the features that were missing, were now back. They had also added countless other amazing features that can save you hours as an editor.

Then Apple shocked the editing community by releasing 10.3. I feel this made Final Cut X the best editing software available to date, on any platform.

It is fast, blazingly fast on any modern Mac. You don’t need anything beefed up, apple has programmed the shit out of this and Final Cut X as a software is leaps and bounds more advanced than anything else available. This means native editing of video at any resolution, and instead of having to step down your resolution to ¼ or 1/16 for Red video like Premiere, Final Cut X will automatically adjust video quality to optimize your computers performance. This means more focusing on editing and less on your machine. Basically more time to be creative.

Roles are better than tracks! Tracks now feel like stepping back into 1983 for me, they are extremely outdated at this point. Roles are the future and move with you, allowing you to have greater control of your media and timeline. Roles also optimize the space on your screen, giving you more room, while also allowing you to see what’s in your timeline more easily.

I love how Final Cut X switches between the timeline and viewer automatically, allowing me to have more room on my screen to see my media, instead of sharing the screen space with a two up display like the traditional editing interface. You can choose to have the traditional editing layout, but why would you when Final Cut works to great.

Proxies made easy. Premiere pro sucks for proxies, even when using their built in proxy tools. Thinks get unlinked and you need to spend valuable time troubleshooting link problems.

Try making proxies for Red on premiere and then going back to the original r3d, good luck. They might have added a new feature recently, but it’s probably buggy anyway. Premiere focuses too much on new features to satisfy their user base paying high monthly fees for their software. Apple always focuses on reliability before anything.

Need proxies with Final cut X? You just check a box and bam you have optimized proxies for your machine. Need to go back to the original footage for your final render? Just check another back, super easy and reliable.

Final Cut X has great audio tools, many of them are straight out of Apple’s professional sound editing and mixing software Logic. You can even save presets in Logic to use in Apple, making Final Cut’s build in audio editing and mixing tools very powerful. I personally find these tools to be leaps and bounds better technically and creatively then anything found in other editing software.

Final Cut X has amazing Motion graphic tools, and integrate with Apple Motion to provide even greater control of graphics. You can even install plugin’s that allow you to have easily customizable motion titles, something much more difficult to with with After Effects. These motion titles update in real time, allowing you to make better creative decisions.

Because of the nature of my work, I often still need to edit in Resolve, Premiere or Avid. Every time it feels like I’m stepping back to the past. Final Cut had to take a major step back then re-coded everything from the ground up. Just like the first iPhone, it was embarrassing and did not have many needed features. Apple is the best at not giving up and following through with their vision, and that has really paid off with Final Cut 10.3. Not just that, it’s always the cheapest available professional editing solution by far because Apple makes their money from hardware and can subsidize the software.

If you have a Mac and are editing your video on something else, it’s time for you to take another look at Final Cut before you are left behind. The future of editing is happening right now.

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