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ibijau · 4 years

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chap 2 of the modern xisangyao, also on AO3

Against his better judgement, Meng Yao finds himself quite charmed by the too handsome researcher who wants to meet his employer

Mister Shanzi will be unhappy when he discovers that Meng Yao has agreed to meet with a researcher without first consulting him, but he is simply too curious. It is so odd for anyone to be so interested in that obscure painter, and so desperate to see more of his work. Of course, Mister Shanzi himself holds a clear interest in Nie Huaisang, one that he has unwillingly transmitted to Meng Yao… But mister Shanzi is an odd man, and ordinary people cannot be compared to him.

For this reason, Meng Yao's first instinct upon being contacted by Lan Xichen had been suspicion. Mister Shanzi has his enemies, as Meng Yao knows well, and they try to act clever sometimes.

His second instinct, after a quick internet search, had been amusement. Surely nobody expected him to believe that this man, handsome enough to play the lead in a drama, was a mere university teacher.

A more thorough search had confirmed it though. Meng Yao knew enough about running a con to spot modified photos and fake credentials, and he had found none of that. Digging further, Lan Xichen appeared in the background of photos and was referenced here and there on relatives' social media, with no incoherence to the presentation he'd given in his email.

So Meng Yao had found himself intrigued, and offered to meet and chat.

A decision he half regrets now, because somehow, Lan Xichen is even more handsome in person. He is, in fact, the single most beautiful person that Meng Yao has seen in his life, easily outranking mister Shanzi who had reigned there supreme since the day Meng Yao met him during a con gone wrong.

"I am so glad you offered to meet me," Lan Xichen says with a warm smile. "I am really sorry that I was so insistent, but it is so rare for several of Nie Huaisang’s works to be in a single place."

“I understand,” Meng Yao replies, trying to match the warmth of that smile when he can’t help being a little dazzled by that handsome stranger. “Though at the moment, my employer is a little wary of showing any of those paintings in his possession until he has inspected them all again. It is very embarrassing that several fakes fooled him, and mister Shanzi wants to restore his reputation. He is still getting used to modern technology, and how much it has changed the art market in recent decades.”

Mostly, mister Shanzi complains a lot on the matter, and keeps saying he’s going to have to change career soon. Apparently, back in the days, it was much easier to sell a decent fake as long as you also sold enough real things. But now with age testing of the paper and analysis of the ink, it’s nearly impossible to do a good enough job.

Of course mister Shanzi could quite easily make as much money only selling legitimate art, he has the connections, the collection, and impeccable taste. So Meng Yao suspects it’s not just about money, and more about the twisted joy of deceiving others. He can't fault him for that.

“Yes, that makes sense,” Lan Xichen sighs. “I was fooled as well, so I understand the feeling. It’s so disappointing, but not unexpected. Nie Huaisang attracts forgers like no other artists.”

Meng Yao nods sympathetically. He’s heard mister Shanzi boast that well over half of Nie Huaisang’s paintings in circulation are copies he made himself, and perfectly undetectable unless one runs those ‘damn new tests’ on them.

“If I may be so bold, why the interest in that particular painter?” Meng Yao asks. “Surely you could have found someone less complicated to study.”

Rather than to answer immediately, Lan Xichen considers the question. He takes a sip of tea with more elegance than this café deserves, and Meng Yao is struck once more with the idea that this man should be acting in drama, not writing essays nobody will ever read. It’s easy to imagine Lan Xichen playing the role of a noble prince, or even a god.

“He’s just a fascinating character I suppose,” Lan Xichen says at last. “Outside of his art, we know so little about him. We don’t even know his real name.”

“What?”

Lan Xichen smiles, clearly very pleased to have gotten that reaction.

“He wasn’t born Nie Huaisang,” he explains. “That’s only his courtesy name. You see, he belonged to that… well, they called themselves a sect, though at the end of the day they were closer to nobility, with the same inheritance problems and power struggles. Still, Qinghe Nie held a number of beliefs, and one of them was that the birth name of its members had to be kept a complete secret… and Nie Huaisang is among those who succeeded at obeying that rule. So we don’t know his name, we don’t know his date of birth, and we don’t know how he died or when.”

“Is there anything that is known about him?” Meng Yao teases, more endeared and intrigued than he would care to admit.

Lan Xichen must notice, because he smiles again, as if delighted to have found someone willing to listen to his impromptu lecture.

“We know he was raised by his brother because their father died when they were young,” Lan Xichen says. “Well, half-brother. Nie Huaisang was the child of a concubine, or even of a servant. His father recognised him, but his legitimacy was called in question a few times. We know he survived a local insurrection nicknamed the Sunshot Campaign, though it’s unclear if he was old enough to have taken part in any fighting. His brother did though, with great success, but died without heirs a few years later and Nie Huaisang found himself in charge of a fief.”

He pauses there, his expression turning sadder, as if he were talking of a personal friend rather than a long dead man. Meng Yao finds it ridiculous and a little endearing.

“A few anecdotes from the lives of contemporaries tell us that he must have had a rough time at first,” Lan Xichen continues, “and he was suspected for a while of being implicated in the murder of the head of the Jin clan, but nothing ever came out of that. He’s just thirty at that point, still fairly young, and he lives on for another fifty, maybe sixty years… and we don’t know anything about what he does during that time. Nobody really talks about Qinghe Nie again until his successor rises to power and brings the clan back into the political sphere. Nie Huaisang’s life is a mystery. What little we think we know comes from the few poems he left, and whatever clues we can gather from his numerous paintings. Isn’t that fascinating?”

What’s fascinating, Meng Yao thinks, is the way Lan Xichen’s eyes light up when talking about something he’s passionate about. If it’s an act, then it’s an excellent one… but Meng Yao finds himself hoping that it’s sincere, that Lan Xichen really is just an odd man who is apparently half in love with a painter who died a millennium and a half ago.

There is no way that mister Shanzi would ever let anyone see his private collection. Even Meng Yao is barely allowed to go to his employer’s house, to avoid attracting attention to the place. Lan Xichen’s request is never going to be granted.

But it has been a long while since Meng Yao has been so intrigued by someone, not since first meeting mister Shanzi in fact. And mister Shanzi, in spite of the mutual attraction that Meng Yao knows to be there, has made it quite clear that he isn’t interested in anything but a professional relationship. Meng Yao has satisfied himself with that so far, because his life really is pretty good as it currently is, but Lan Xichen changes that. Surely there’s no harm in pretending that there’s a chance he might get to see the painting, at least until Meng Yao can decide if that too handsome man is trustworthy or not, dateworthy or not…

“It does sound interesting,” Meng Yao admits. “I’m sure mister Shanzi would…”

His phone starts vibrating, interrupting him. Meng Yao can’t help a slight frown, which turns to a deeper one when he sees the message he’s just received.

“Well, I have to go,” he sighs. “I’m really sorry. But… mister Lan, if I may be so bold, would you agree to exchanging numbers? That way we can continue talking about this more easily.”

“Yes, of course,” Lan Xichen replies. There is a trace of pink on his cheeks as he takes out his own phone, which Meng Yao finds both very fetching and rather encouraging.

He’ll have to be careful, this could be a trap, Lan Xichen might be an excellent actor, part of a team skilled enough to have fooled Meng Yao, but… but he might not be, too, and it would be a shame to miss this chance.

After having exchanged numbers and promised to be in touch soon, Meng Yao quickly heads home. He lives on the edges of the city, in a building that already looked ancient when he was a kid. Today’s a good day, because the lift is, in fact, actually working for once.

Upon getting to his floor, Meng Yao goes to knock on the door next to his. It opens nearly immediately.

“Meng Yao, you’re saving my life,” the young woman who lives there greets him. “I’m really sorry, I’ve tried everyone else, but I’ve been called in for an extra shift and I need the money so bad, I’ve had to buy her new shoes this month, and…”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind at all.”

His neighbour thanks him again, and rushes inside. She’s back quickly, her daughter in her arms. The child nearly throws herself at Meng Yao, and her mother runs off to work, leaving them alone.

“Well, Beastie, it’s just you and me,” Meng Yao says, walking to his door. “What are we going to do tonight?”

“Watch fighting movies! Eat candies!”

“And what will we tell mama we did?”

“Watch documentaries and eat greens and I went to bed and I was good!” The little girl roars.

Meng Yao laughs, and puts her down while he unlocks his door. Beastie runs inside to check the tv, while Meng Yao makes sure they actually have something to eat. He tries to keep his fridge full and his cabinet fuller, especially since Beastie has become a regular at his place. Her mother is a hard working girl who, like Meng Yao’s mother, got pregnant too young from a man who didn’t stick around. He used to babysit Beastie for extra cash before meeting mister Shanzi, and for some reason he never really stopped, even if he refuses to take money for it now. He just likes Beastie and her mom, and he remembers how much his own mother used to rely on neighbours too, whenever things became rough.

As Beastie and him settle down for the night, ready to watch one of those cheesy, over the top old kung-fu movies that they both love, Meng Yao gets a text from Lan Xichen, thanking him again for meeting him. After only the briefest of hesitations, Meng Yao quickly answers that he’s sorry he had to leave so fast, because he loved chatting with Lan Xichen. This prompts another text from the handsome teacher, to which Meng Yao replies as well.

His phone doesn’t stop buzzing all nigh, and Meng Yao doesn't stop smiling.

In the days and weeks that follow, Meng Yao and Lan Xichen manage to meet in person a few more times, and text nearly constantly. At their second meeting they’re still pretending that this is only about Lan Xichen’s research, but by the third one they start openly chatting about other things.

Lan Xichen is very open about his life, and everything he says fits with what Meng Yao had found during his initial investigation. He has a little brother nearly fifteen years younger than him who lives with him, he enjoys teaching and researching equally, he has a pet rabbit called Liebing he dotes on, he can’t handle spice at all, he has, in fact, been asked more than once if he was interested in a modelling or acting career but always refused because academia is his calling.

Meng Yao is more careful with the information he shares. He admits to having worked for mister Shanzi for nearly five years, but doesn’t elaborate on how they meet because that's not a story for honest people. He confesses he didn’t have any particular interest in art until taking the job, though he has tried to educate himself on the subject since then (Lan Xichen offers to go to a museum together someday, and to his own surprise, Meng Yao agrees). He doesn’t have pets, but he does have Beastie and he’s pretty sure that counts.

The way Lan Xichen’s eyes go soft over that… it does things to Meng Yao’s poor heart.

As does almost everything Lan Xichen does or says, in fact.

Meng Yao is half appalled at himself for how fast he’s falling for Lan Xichen. He tries to resist it, tries to be reasonable, but Lan Xichen just has to smile the right way, and Meng Yao’s heart flutters in his chest. He feels like a teenager with a crush.

He starts thinking like one, too.

Ever since meeting mister Shanzi, Meng Yao has been loyal to his employer. There is something about the man that demands it, and though he has never made threats of any sorts, Meng Yao can feel that mister Shanzi is not a man who takes kindly to betrayal.

And yet, it would be so easy to arrange for Lan Xichen to come to mister Shanzi’s home without his knowledge. Meng Yao is in charge of his employer’s schedule, so he knows where he is at any given time. He also has the keys to that isolated house in the middle of nowhere. It would be so easy, and Meng Yao has never been too good at resisting temptation.

At this point, he knows that if he tells Lan Xichen he won't see the paintings, the other man will be disappointed but will ask if they can keep seeing each other anyway. This isn't about finding a way to keep his attention: Meng Yao knows he has it already.

It's about Meng Yao guessing how happy Lan Xichen will be to see those paintings, and deciding surely that's worth the risk.

That’s how Meng Yao and Lan Xichen find themselves in a car one day, heading out of the city together. Meng Yao feels his skin buzzing with nerves, though every time he takes his eyes from the road to glance at Lan Xichen and finds him glowing and as excited as a child, he knows it was the right choice. It takes them a few hours to get to the house, which they spend chatting about a number of things. About midway through the trip, when they take a break, Meng Yao announces that due to a last minute problem, mister Shanzi won’t be able to meet them at the house, but welcomes them to check the paintings without him. Lan Xichen is of course disappointed and offers to try again another time, but Meng Yao convinces him it’s more convenient to go that day.

The house, hidden in a bamboo forest, takes Lan Xichen’s breath away when he discovers it, just as it did for Meng Yao the first time. It’s not particularly big or extravagant, but there’s something about it that makes Meng Yao’s heart ache every time he sees it, as if he’s known it before. It’s ridiculous, of course. He’d never really left the city before starting to work for mister Shanzi.

“It looks like home,” Lan Xichen whispers as he exits the car.

“Does your family have a place like that?”

Lan Xichen frowns, and shakes his head. “No, not at all. But it still feels like home. I can’t explain why… Ah, don’t mind me. Let’s just go inside.”

Meng Yao hides a smile and goes to open the door. In truth, he’d like to get this over with as quickly as possible. Mister Shanzi has no reason to be back from his trip until tomorrow, but Meng Yao won’t feel safe until they’ve left. It really is stupid to have come here at all, and even Lan Xichen’s happiness is starting to not feel worth the risk.

The house is quiet when they go in, and a little cold, making them shiver. It’s always fresh in there, which Meng Yao assumes is why mister Shanzi has taken to calling his home the Hanshi.

“It’s not a very welcoming name for a home,” Lan Xichen says as he looks around, sounding a little distracted.

“It’s not much of a home anyway. He doesn’t live here most of the time,” Meng Yao explains as they head for the kitchen. “It has his private collection, a few personal belongings, and that’s it. He prefers to stay with friends or at hotels if he can. Check the fridge and you’ll see how bad it is.”

While Meng Yao pours himself a glass of water, Lan Xichen does check the fridge, and finds it predictably empty except for some forgotten leftovers. Sometimes, Meng Yao suspects that mister Shanzi doesn’t eat at all unless he has company.

After taking a moment to rest from the long trip, Meng Yao takes Lan Xichen toward the workshop in the basement, where he knows his employer usually keeps the best parts of his collection, fake and authentic paintings carefully divided according to a system he taught to Meng Yao.

It really feels more and more like a betrayal to be doing this, but Lan Xichen is glowing, and mister Shanzi will never know.

Meng Yao starts opening the door.

His blood turns to ice when he realises that there’s light inside the room.

He thinks, for a second, to stop and run away while he can, but it’s too late already. Lan Xichen would ask questions, and he wouldn’t like the answers. It could save him from also dealing with mister Shanzi’s fury at least, but even that won’t be afforded to him. When Meng Yao peaks inside, mister Shanzi’s swivel chair is turning toward the door, with mister Shanzi sitting crossed leg in it and looking curiously at the intruders.

It is painfully obvious that mister Shanzi isn’t expecting visitors. Instead of the polished outfits he favours in public, he’s wearing a pair of novelty boxers with emoji on them, and a hoodie two sizes too big with ink stains on the sleeves. His long hair isn’t in a neat braid, but in a messy bun held in place by some cheap chopsticks. In short, mister Shanzi doesn’t look like the refined young man he endeavours to be when he has to show his face somewhere, and more like a college student who has forgotten the taste of any food except instant noodle and energy drinks.

That impression is only made worse by the headphones he’s now lowering, and the game console on his lap. They must have caught him taking a break.

“Meng Yao, why are you…” mister Shanzi starts asking, unfolding his legs so he can stand up, only to interrupt himself when his gaze falls on Lan Xichen.

His hands start shaking, badly enough that his console falls from his grip and onto the floor, its screen cracking upon impact.

“You!” mister Shanzi gasps, eyes wide with terror.

#xisangyao #xiyao #lan xichen #jin guangyao #xisang #mostly just hinted but still #jau writes #counterfeit au #next chapter will probably be pretty short

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psycho-slytherin · 4 years

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Strangers ch. 43

You go back to work, and come to terms with what’s happened.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 3k

Genre: fluff, angst, idfk

Warnings: Tiiiny bit of cursing, a hint of depression

|mlist|

<–– Prev Next ––>

“Girl, he broke up with you? What happened?”

“I don’t know,” you moan, clapping your hands to your ears. Her voice persists, echoing inside your head.

“He liked her more. You were never even together, and he still couldn’t wait to get rid of you.”

“Stop it. Shut up.”

“Poor, traumatized Y/n, who’s been nothing but trouble. Y/n, who’s an anxious little nobody. Y/n, trying to drag a star like him down to your level.”

“That’s not true!” “He hates you. Why else would he do that? He knows what she did to you, and he’s with her anyways. He hates you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But you do, Y/n.”

“Fame, flashlight– gi-give it to me!”

Unlike most of your nightmares, for once you don’t bolt upwards in a panic. Your eyes simply open at the sound of your alarm and blink several times.

After a moment of stillness, you reach for your phone. It’s time for a change. Waking up to his voice every day used to be a delight, but now… you switch the sound back to the default alarm noise. It’s been all of one day since you awoke to his betrayal– twenty-four hours since the second of the two people you trusted most in the world was lost to you.

And I had to go from hearing one in my sleep to getting woken up by the other, you think humorlessly as you shove your blanket off and stretch.

Kang Seoyeon. You’ve spent so long thinking only of her attack, that flash of hair, that shove into the river, that learning her name feels like a punch in the stomach. She’s not just a nightmare. You don’t know whether you’re relieved or horrified.

Doesn’t matter. You have work today. The dark cloud that formed after Lisa’s disappearance, the same one that grew in weight when you saw Seoyeon’s picture on Lisa’s laptop and again when your mom cut you off– it overwhelmed you yesterday after you saw the news about him and Seoyeon. The feeling, the horrible, gnawing darkness got so intense that something inside of you seemed to break, and the pressure simply… lifted.

You survived an attempt on your life. You didn’t need him then, and you don’t need him now, especially since he’s made it clear that he doesn’t need you either.

And so you get dressed in more layers than you need, put on makeup, and walk to the subway station. You’d take an Uber but now, more than ever, you need to save money. Thanks, Mom. Maybe you can find a flat with lower rent further from the city? Or check with student housing? Right, you’re still a student.

As you approach, you notice a commotion around the studio. There’s a crowd outside, a mix of what look like fans and paparazzi. You tug your collar up in the hopes that you’re not spotted, but–

“Y/n! Any comment on Suga’s new girlfriend?”

“Just a quick photo, please!”

“Do you think Suga cheated on you?”

“Y/n! What do you have to say to Kang Seoyeon?”

“Are the rumors that you’ve been missing work true?”

“How did your relationship end?”

“No comment,” you say, the tidal wave of noise crashing down onto you as you fight for breath amidst the crowd. Despite the heat of all the bodies, you begin to shiver. “Please let me through.”

“Y/n!” A familiar voice rings out above the confusion. Avery, your director, stands tall in the doorway. “Let her pass. We will not be commenting or taking questions at this time.”

With Avery’s help, you manage to push through the mob, half collapsing once the large studio doors have closed behind you. Inside the studio, the cast and crew bustle about, almost busier than usual.

“Are you okay?” Avery asks, concerned.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Avery, look, I’m sorry I haven’t been at filming–”

“It’s in the past,” the director says kindly. “I know you’ve been through a lot. But… well, Y/n, you need a manager. A real manager. I’ve been talking with some of my agency friends, and I think-”

“I have a manager,” you interrupt. Unless… you Googled the statistics of surviving a kidnapping for as long as Lisa’s been gone. The research alone made you feel nauseous. But Lisa’s alive. She has to be. Right?

Avery folds her arms, as though she can tell something’s off. “Really? Then where’s your driver? Who’s organizing your gigs, negotiating your wages? Who’s hiring you a bodyguard? ‘Cause the people outside are showing me that you need one.”

“She just-”

“Where’s the publicist managing your online presence? You shouldn’t have to do this all on your own, Y/n. And for god’s sake, where is the person who’s supposed to keep celebrities like you from going off the deep end?”

“I’m not a celebrity, Avery! I’m not him, okay?”

“I know. But you have to understand, no one has ever been in a position like yours. BTS have a powerful fanbase, and none of them have dated before, least of all dated a virtual nobody. I know your relationship wasn’t real,” she continues, seeing you about to protest. “But it’s what needed to happen to protect both of your reputations. You skipped a lot of steps on the way to fame, Y/n. You need an experienced manager to keep you on track.” Avery shrugs. “I can email you a list of people you should talk to. Now, have you talked to your professors about missing classes? Will you be ready to go?”

“What? Go where?”

Avery raises a brow. “We’re filming on location next week, remember? There’s been an on-set announcement every day this week, and the email was sent out a month ago.”

Oh. What? You’ve barely been onset this week, so overwhelmed were you with the terror that Seoyeon had managed to instill within you. But you’ve been checking your email and your phone messages almost obsessively after you’d learned that the university had messaged you about Lisa’s disappearance first. You won’t let anything like that happen again. And yet… “I haven’t, uh… I haven’t gotten any emails about that.”

“Check your spam folder, I’m certain you received them.” Avery says cooly. “Anyways, you’ve missed a lot of work. Can I assume you’re back for good?”

“Yes.” You reply immediately. “Absolutely, ma’am. I’m very, very sorry for not being present lately. I’ll work hard to make up for it.” Is the existence of Seoyeon, and the unknown connection between her and Lisa, still terrifying? Of course. Does his sudden relationship with Seoyeon, after seeing him only two days ago, make your heart feel like it’s being shredded into pieces? Maybe. But you’ve broken yourself back together; no one can hurt you anymore.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Avery says, satisfied. “Now, go on to wardrobe, it’s gonna be a long day. We’re filming three episodes’ worth of your and Yoongi’s scenes.”

You gulp. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Speaking of Yoongi…” Avery checks her watch. “He’s late. Whatever– go get dressed.”

With nothing more to say, you make for the dressing rooms. And of course, who has to exit in full costume but…

“Y/n.”

You nod, your usual irrepressible anger nowhere to be seen. No one can hurt you anymore. “Jeongyeon.”

“I heard about you and Yoongi.” Jeongyeon seems to attempt to muster her usual obnoxious sneer, but it falls flat. You suppose your expression is just pitiful enough to put off her bullying.

“Ah, yeah.” You don’t know what else to say. It was just a fake relationship, so you should be glad it’s over. After all, Bang PD had said the arrangement could end whenever you wanted it to… and clearly, he wanted it to.

“Well, whatever. How does he go from bad to worse, am I right? Did you see his new girl?”

There she is, you think, watching Jeongyeon slip back into the character you know so well.

“Anyways,” she continues. “I heard we’re sharing a trailer for when we film on location. Don’t even think about stealing my bobby pins.”

You salute your costar ironically before brushing past her into the dressing rooms.

Forty minutes later, you’re finally clothed in all your beautiful layers, your face perfectly made up. You’re an actress, a professional. Whatever is happening in your personal life, you have to put it aside for the sake of your work.

“So pretty~” the stylist coos as she expertly fixes your hair. You hear the door open, but you can’t move to see who entered as the stylist continues: “Doesn’t she look lovely?”

“Ah, yeah.”

Your eyes widen at his voice. The stylist still has a hold of your hair, and you can’t turn to look at him.

After an eternal silence, he clears his throat. “Anyways, Avery sent me here for hair and makeup?”

“Yes, Mr. Min, just one more second while I finish up with Y/n here…” after what seems like a lungful of hairspray, you’re set free. At last, you turn and look at Min Yoongi.

The shadows under his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them, and his normally good posture has disappeared for slumped shoulders. Must be the stress of a new relationship.

“Y/n,” Yoongi starts. “Look, I–”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, pasting a smile onto your face. “It’s whatever, Yoongi, alright?”

“Uh, right.” Yoongi fidgets with one of his rings, seemingly at a loss.

“I just…” you can feel your facade begin to slip, and shake your head. “Never mind. I’ll see you onset.”

~~~

Yoongi watches you go, clenching his fist. He wasn’t expecting to see you at work today, and he definitely wasn’t expecting… well, whatever that was.

He doesn’t know why he feels a little disappointed to realize how okay you are with this situation. Certainly far more okay than he is. Maybe you really were eager to get out of your relationship.

Shit. He wishes he could fix this, wishes he could tell you everything. A shiver runs down his spine, though, when he remembers exactly why he can’t talk to you.

“You go to the police,” Seoyeon said, holding out her phone so Yoongi can see, “you talk to the paparazzi, or your precious little girlfriend, and this one will be gone before anyone can find her.”

Yoongi gulped. “How do I know that’s not doctored?”

He received a shrug. “That’s a chance you’ll have to take. Now, we’re going to do this my way. Want to keep Y/n safe? And the other one too?” She nods at the photo on her phone. “Follow my rules, and they won’t get hurt. But I’ll be keeping this one… for insurance.”

“You’re insane.”

Seoyeon winked. “Nope, just a fan!”

Faking a relationship with your attacker, seeing the insurance she’s kept, and knowing that he can’t tell you any of it, is almost too much for Yoongi. But he’s got D working to track Lisa’s phone, and Avery to suggest you hire bodyguards. Sure, he may be stretched thin enough to snap, but he’ll keep everyone safe. He has to.

~~~

You’re hanging around on the indoor set of what’s supposed to be a busy town market filled with extras. You’re always amazed at the movie magic that allows the simple set such versatility.

You can hear him before you see him: the cast and crew can never help but murmur at the biggest star in the show. And yet, you don’t turn to look. It’s not like you’re avoiding him, but… well, he has to have realized that he hurt you, right? And of course, now you have to play the brokenhearted ex, since all your coworkers think the relationship was real. Which means more lies.

But it’s okay. You’re strong. Stronger than him, stronger than his new girlfriend.

“Okay!” Avery barks, and the present company jumps to attention. “I know there’s a lot of excitement on set today, so I hope everyone remembers to keep things professional. Now, let’s get started. Episode 13, scene 6. The scene: Kim Ji-Woo has just returned from her trip to the countryside as she recovers from Mr. Moon’s sudden engagement to Mi-Gyeong, the wealthy Mr. Gang’s younger sister. They bump into each other at the market and Mr. Moon invites Ji-Woo to the ball held in honor of the engagement. Ready, and… action!”

You move quickly into the view of the camera, waving at the imaginary coachman behind you. “No, really, it’s alright! I can walk home, Father should have the carriage in any case– yes, goodbye now, good- oh!”

Not looking where you were going, you walk right into Yoongi. Your basket clatters onto the dirt road and for a second you feel the urge to stay there in his arms as you have so many times before. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr- Mr. Moon?” you allow your voice to tremble for a second. Here he is, the man who had promised himself to you, and then turned around and chose to love another. Here he is, and every feeling you tried to bury comes rushing back. But… no. There’s still your dignity to think about.

“My apologies,” you murmur, reaching down to grab your basket as you curtsy. Basket secured, you’re quick to turn away from the newly-engaged man who, only weeks before, had secretly asked you to marry him.

“Oh, wait, wait! Miss Kim!” Mr. Moon extends his arm, his hand barely brushing yours. Your skin prickles with equal parts excitement and pain.

You can’t ignore so blatant a summons. You look back at him slowly. “Is there something I may help you with, sir?” Sir. How long has it been since you were able to call him by his given name?

“Please, I…” Mr. Kim pauses, his jaw tense. “My father is hosting a ball tonight. In honor of my engagement.”

“Congratulations,” you reply, as drily as your good manners will allow. For what reason is he reminding you of his betrayal?

“Would you attend, as my guest? Your sisters are most certainly welcome as well,” Mr. Moon says, his voice just shy of pleading.

Is he out of his mind? No, he’s just pulling rank and expecting you to say yes. No sane country girl such as yourself could ever turn down an invitation from a man of such good breeding.

And yet, he led you to believe he loved you, and you him, before turning tail and running towards a much better match. All the good you saw in him then… where is it now?

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, staring at him. “But my family will be unable to attend. I wish you the best in your life, and in a very… happy marriage. Good day, Mr. Moon.”

“Good– ah.” You can’t see Mr. Moon rub his eyes tiredly, for you’ve already walked away, full of determination. I don’t need him.

“Cut! Holy shit, guys!” Avery claps loudly, a wide grin on her face. “I think that was the best I’ve ever seen you two together. Keep it up! Let’s use that take. Okay, next, episode 14, scenes 30-33.”

The workday is long and brutal, but you’d never complain– at least you still have a job, after the absentee stunt you pulled.

Speaking of absentee… Lisa. It’s been a month now since she’s disappeared, and maybe you could have chalked it up to some quarter-life crisis at first. After all, she bought that plane ticket to America.

But a month? And the police are still looking for her. They must have a reason to believe it’s more than university angst, right?

You need to face the facts, Y/n. And the facts are that Lisa must have been kidnapped. And to stay alive a month after being kidnapped…

You can’t think about it. But you can’t not think about it. And if you’re moving past Yoongi, you have to move past your best friend, too.

“Avery?” You approach the director , who’s giving instructions to an assistant, after the cast has been dismissed for the day. At your voice, she glances up.

“Y/n, what can I do for you?”

“I’m…” You take a deep breath, knowing your nightmares will take revenge on you. “I’m ready to look for a manager. Can you email me your contacts?” Hopefully you receive them– the fact that you haven’t noticed any emails about filming on location is really concerning.

Avery smiles. “Of course, Y/n. I really do wish you the best.”

“Thank you.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi wander your way. Avery seems to notice him as well, and manages to disappear before you can blink. The set has cleared out for the most part, with only some cosmetologists and stylists packing up.

“Hey, stranger,” you greet him. Yoongi’s eyes dart back and forth nervously.

“I’m sorry.” He finally blurts out.

“What?” Your voice remains neutral. Is he apologizing for knowing Seoyeon without telling you? For dating her?

Yoongi reaches for your hand before freezing. “I don’t know how this is going to end, Y/n, but in case something goes wrong, I need to tell you that I’m so, so sorry.”

Yoongi… “You can’t do that,” you say eventually. He can’t hurt you anymore, but that doesn’t mean you won’t tell him the truth. “You can’t play with me like this, Yoongs. You can’t tell me that I’m safe and then turn around and hold her hand. You can’t come back and apologize for your actions after what she did to me. What she might have done to Lisa! Do you even hear yourself?” You’re half-shouting before you realize it, but you can’t stop. “Christ, I knew celebrities were selfish, but this is god-tier bullshit. She could have killed me, Yoongi! Would you still have loved her then?”

“I don’t–” Yoongi stops short before shaking his head. “You don’t understand.”

“So teach me.”

“I… can’t.”

You breathe in sharply, gripping your bag. “Okay, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you. And, Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

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lastsonlost · 5 years

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After the first episode of "The Mandalorian," the Disney Plus series in the Star Wars universe that became the top streaming hit of 2019, aired on the platform, some Twitter users expressed frustration at how few women spoke, and how few female characters there were in general.

Some of those who tweeted, including well-known feminist critic Anita Sarkeesian, were met with dogpiling and waves of harassment across social media platforms.

The harassment largely stemmed from anti-feminist Star Wars fan accounts who rounded up and highlighted tweets under the pretense that those complaining were "outraged" social justice warriors trying to tear down a successful Star Wars franchise.

The harassment is just the latest instance of feminist fandom voices being shut down online.

Anita Sarkeesian is no stranger to online harassment,

YEA SHES VERY GOOD AT MAKING THEM.

being one of the central figures in Gamergate, the online harassment campaign that resulted in her receiving numerous death and rape threats, along with bomb and shooting threats at her events. But even she was surprised at the amount of vitriol her tweet about "The Mandalorian" received.

After watching the first episode of the Star Wars series for Disney Plus, Sarkeesian tweeted asking if she was just tired, or if there wasn't "a single female speaking character in the first episode."

She was exhausted, Sarkeesian told Insider — missing the one scene where a woman spoke and making a typo in her tweet. In the replies, Sarkeesian corrected herself. Then she went to bed. In the morning, the tweet had more than 3,000 replies. It currently has close to 7,000.

"Maybe you should switch to The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills... I'm sure you'll find much to relate to there...." one top reply read.

"No wonder you're so tired. They say you should stretch before making such reaches, especially at your age," said another, with more than 1,400 likes of its own.

It's an example of dogpiling, a type of online harassment where, on Twitter, someone's replies outnumber likes and retweets, and are mostly filled with repetitive, hurtful comments.

"It's ironic. Women, especially feminists, get accused of being emotional and angry and all of these things when all we said was 'Hey, I noticed this thing. And it's kind of a problem, and I think it's really bad for our society,'" Sarkeesian told Insider. "If they didn't reply to it, my tweet would have just been gone. They made it a much bigger deal."

Sarkeesian is the most prominent figure facing dogpiling and harassment in response to her criticism of the series, but she's not the only one.

People with and without large Twitter followings, some who are verified and many who are not, have found themselves overwhelmed with anti-feminist replies and messages across platforms after tweeting about how few women are in "The Mandalorian."

Specifically, in the first episode, there's one female character wearing a mask who speaks, and two female characters total, along with a few women spotted as extras in the background of shots. More female characters are expected to play larger roles in future episodes.

"Even if you want to give the show the benefit of the doubt and say there's some big, wild justification that's going to come around in episode 7, it feels wrong that the vast majority of this world is populated by men or male-identified characters," Sarkeesian said.

Star Wars fans have a history of harassing women online when faced with criticism

Online harassment in the Star Wars fandom, particularly of women, is nothing new. Actresses like Daisy Ridley and Kelly Marie Tran of the latest Disney-owned Star Wars trilogy have recently talked about the negative aspects of the Star Wars community.

Ridley, who stars in the newest Star Wars trilogy as Rey, "cut off" her Facebook and Instagram accounts "like a Skywalker limb" due to harassment, and Tran faced racist and misogynistic harassment after appearing as the first woman of color in a leading role in the Star Wars franchise.

"It wasn't their words, it's that I started to believe them," Tran wrote for The New York Times after deleting her Instagram posts in 2018. "Their words seemed to confirm what growing up as a woman and a person of color already taught me: that I belonged in margins and spaces, valid only as a minor character in their lives and stories."

In the case of "The Mandalorian," almost anyone who tweets about the show from a feminist perspective is at risk of being targeted, because Star Wars fan accounts are rounding up tweets that criticize things like the amount of time it took for a woman to speak in the first episode.

One account rounded up 33 of these tweets with the caption "SJW's are outraged over the 'lack of female characters' in the first 2 episodes of The Mandalorian. A show with 3 female characters. Feminists only care about counting the number of minutes women are on screen in Star Wars."

Insider spoke with two people whose tweets were featured in the round-up, who said their tweets were mischaracterized, inspiring a wave of online hate.

Both of the people who spoke with Insider said they liked "The Mandalorian" and will continue watching it, but wanted to point out that it could be better in terms of female representation.

One woman who spoke to Insider anonymously, because she is trying to distance her name from the situation, says the harassment began several days after she posted her initial tweet about a lack of women in the first episode.

After receiving anti-feminist replies on Twitter, she also started getting harassed across platforms, in part because other anti-feminist Star Wars accounts picked up screenshots of her tweet after it was first included in the round-up and distributed to an even wider audience, including on Instagram.

One person even left a violent message for her in the email submission form on her professional website. It reads "People like you don't deserve a f---ing opinion, but at least I'm glad you can voice it. Doesn't prevent me from calling you f---ing r-----ed for spouting your misandry. HOW DOES IT F---ING FEEL C---? I hope you expire and never have children."

"I had to put everything on private, for my own mental health," she told Insider. "I just had to shut down my profile. I will never, ever, ever tweet about Star Wars again. And I love baby Yoda so much. But I can't. They won. Life's too short for me to fight this fight."

Even after setting her accounts to private, she was inundated by hundreds of follow requests on Twitter, along with DMs sent to her private Instagram.

Those who tweeted about female representation in 'The Mandalorian' stand by their words, despite the harassment

The person who tweeted the round-up of critics didn't want to share any identifying information with Insider, but did stand behind the tweet, and said they didn't participate in or encourage harassment, but the reach of the account became clear once Insider asked for comment in the replies. Within a few hours, a video had been uploaded about this article (which had not been written yet) to YouTube from a channel with more than 130,000 subscribers.

The video in question has been viewed more than 33,000 times and highlights the mentality in at least one corner of the Star Wars fandom that is male-dominated and is aggressive toward diverse media representation.

"What SJWs do is as soon as this kind of thing happens, they identify [the Twitter account that posted the round-up] as hostile to their narrative [...] I would call them left-wing garbage," the voiceover of YouTuber ComicArtistPro Secrets says in the video. "They are going to come in and write an article smearing [the Twitter account], 'Don't you dare shine a light on these cockroaches in such an effective way ever again,'" The YouTuber mocked, referring to the feminist critics as the "cockroaches" in the situation.

"This is a strategy that these sorts of anti-progressive, very regressive cyber mobs have used for years," Sarkeesian said. "They try to use social justice language against us when we try to bring these issues up but it's so transparent and so obvious what they're trying to do, by undermining our point. It's very bad faith."

Writer and programmer David Ely, a male who's tweet was included in the roundup, told Insider that his replies were pretty tame in comparison to Sarkeesian and the other woman Insider spoke to, although he did receive one unspecified death threat from an account that he blocked.

"Part of the response seems to come from a belief that Star Wars needn't be political. That it be pure entertainment," Ely told Insider. "Star Wars is a made-up universe. If gender inequality exists there, it's either on purpose, or because the creator's biases meant they didn't notice it. Either way, that's political."

Sarkeesian also stood by her original point that "The Mandalorian" should have more female characters, and said a lot of the negative response was because there's so much pushback from people who have historically been over-represented on the screen, and are hostile to the changing expectations for diverse characters that represent the diverse Star Wars fanbase.

"We are so accustomed to male-dominated narratives that it's easy to not even notice glaring omissions," she said. "Unlike if the entire cast had been women, I suspect everyone would have immediately noticed that regardless of what one's opinion would be on that casting choice."

MAYBE ITS NOT FOR YOU ANITA....

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janephillipsblog · 5 years

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Babette’s Gift

I recently closed my first semi-professional theatre experience with Fire Exit Theatre. It was quite a journey and a very rewarding and challenging one at that.

Back in August, I auditioned for “Babette’s Feast”, a play adaptation of the short story by Isak Dineson, conceived and developed by Abigail Killeen and written by Rose Courtney. It turned out to be a very unconventional audition as the venue was not open during my time slot. We auditioned in groups and my group ended up auditioning outside in a residential area. We worked on scenes from the script as well as doing group performance exercises for the director, Jeany Van Meltebeke, to see how we worked together as an ensemble.

Several days later I received an email from Artistic Director, Val Lieske, offering me a role in the ensemble, with the note that specific roles would be assigned at a later date. A couple of weeks later, another email was sent with assigned roles. I would be playing Babette as well as a little bit of ensemble work in the first part of the play before Babette makes her first entrance.

Photo Credit: Andrea Cross Photography. With Kyla Ferrier and Sarah Haggeman.

“Babette’s Feast” is set in a small Norwegian town called Berlevaag and centres around two sisters, the children of a dean to a religious sect. The two sisters, Martine and Philippa, despite their beauty, offers of marriage, and for Philippa, a chance to be an opera singer, remain in Berlevaag as spinsters throughout their life, carrying on the work of the dean after his death. In their autumn years, they take in Babette, a French refugee from the Paris Commune, as a housekeeper. Babette was once a celebrated chef at the Café Anglais in Paris and had fought as a communard, alongside her husband and son, both of whom were killed in the civil war. The story culminates in Babette’s gift to the sisters and the community – a fabulous feast of French cuisine.

We had about a three-month rehearsal period before we moved into the Engineered Air Theatre at Arts Commons, throughout which, Jeany gently pushed us to “tell good story,” paying attention to the details and working on the subtext of the script. Looking back it was incredible how much we gleaned from between the lines of what at first appeared to be a simple script and story. Rachel Peacock, as well as being a part of the cast, was the composer and musical director for the production and her compositions enhanced the show no end, with the music performed with a harp, violin, glockenspiel, our vocals and even toy wooden blocks!

I made some personal discoveries as a performer during the process. Jeany would often tell me to work on being neutral emotionally at certain parts in the play. Well, people have always been able to read me like a book and I am a terrible liar as it simply shows too much on my face. Poker player I am not! For acting there is so much to work on within to achieve what the audience will eventually see. Part of that skill is learning to live in the present, moment by moment. What human doesn’t wander emotionally into the past or future? In the many years of doing theatre, I have learnt that this mental wandering out of the present can trip a performer up in a performance.

During the rehearsal process, imposter syndrome also raised its ugly head on occasion. This was my first production out of the community theatre world where most other fellow cast mates have other careers and acting is a hobby and a different way to socialize for a lot of people. Not that there is anything wrong with that, it is a fantastic hobby and there is nothing wrong with not wanting to pursue it as a career and a person can still strive for excellence in a pastime. From the day of the first read-through, I discovered that I was among kindred spirits. I was with people working in some capacity within the industry and who wore many hats like myself, often with many projects on the go at the same time. I felt at home, however often my anxiety would whisper negative things in my ear that I didn’t belong.

The biggest challenge for me was the fact that Babette was French. Whilst it wasn’t a goal of the production for the performers to have impeccable accents, I did not want Babette to sound English. I also did not want her to have a stereotypical French accent. There were also a few lines in French within the script which presented another challenge. During high school in Ottawa, probably in Grade 11 or 12 (I have moved from the UK the summer before I started Grade 11), I was kicked out of Grade 10 French for struggling with the work in the class. My mother is still angry about it and I realize now that it was probably more to do with the teacher wanting to keep her class averages up than my learning ability. I was a shy and self-conscious teenager who hated speaking aloud in class and had always been very self-conscious about the way I spoke even in English, let alone a foreign language, as we had moved around a lot and I always had a different dialect. Those early days in high school in Ottawa usually meant I had to repeat sentences about three times to my friends before they understood what I was saying! The result was that I no longer had confidence in my ability to even learn to speak a second language. I seem to recall that in the UK, I had quite enjoyed French and German classes, but in Ottawa, everyone was so far ahead in French. The last French course I took was in first year of university as a degree requirement. My inability to speak Canada’s other official language was one of the reasons I ended up moving to Alberta.

There is a section in the script where the ensemble repeat some of the French words spoken by Babette. At the first readthrough during which I most likely pronounced the French lines incorrectly and with limited understanding of the meaning, having the words repeated caught me by surprise and in a moment of self-consciousness, I honestly thought some of the others were correcting my pronunciation! This was not the case! Though certainly down the road, Caleb and John, other cast members (Caleb was also the assistant director), helped me with the pronunciation. Google Translate also became a good friend! I talked about my hang-ups with speaking French with Caleb about two weeks before we moved into the theatre. He asked me when I was going to let them go. Right now, was my reply! I had already upped the ante for myself by inviting French-speaking friends to the show and at this point it was time to really put in some work. I would record myself speaking Babette’s lines to ensure they sounded like Babette and not me.

Photo Credit: Andrea Cross Photography

By the week of our final rehearsals, I felt that Babette had really arrived. I felt confident in my ability to portray her on stage. I was super-excited to be in a show at the Engineered Air Theatre. I had been in the venue once during the Festival of Animated Objects in March (I love the retro décor) and on the first day we were in the theatre, I remembered the intention I had set through a selfie on Facebook in May during the Bouffon workshop (held in the ATP rehearsal hall) that I hoped to again enter and exit the stage door of Arts Commons many, many times in the not too distant future. Well it came true! That is the power of manifestation, folks – I also manifested a free transit ticket that day.

Opening night was on a Wednesday. Fire Exit has a tradition for everyone to wear red shoes on opening night (started by Val and her red boots). I found a really nice pair that day in the WINS thrift store and they went really well with my green Christmas leggings. We had a talk back after the performance, my first ever. There were a couple of complimentary comments about how humble Babette was. In the lobby after, a lady asked if I was French! All our performances went really well, despite sickness making its way around the cast (par for the course for a December show – I was lucky as I had been sick a few weeks prior). Once we had an audience, we discovered that what had seemed like a serious play for the most part, was actually quite whimsical and fun throughout. Our audiences were great, very loving and kind. My French-speaking friends told me that they understood every word and joked how they were going to converse with me in French now.

Photo Credit: Andrea Cross Photography. From left to right: John Moerschbacher, Kyla Ferrier, Daniel Kim, Caleb Gordon, me, Sarah Haggeman, Rachel Peacock, Kendra Hutchinson and Ainsley Daumler.

“Babette’s Feast” was over too soon after a run of only seven performances. It will be an experience that I will forever treasure and remember. Thank you to all involved for sharing this incredible journey with me!

#actorslife #theatre #babettesfeast #fireexittheatre

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wineanddinosaur · 4 years

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Not Heard, Not Supported, and Let Down: How The Brewers Association Lost Its Way

Founded in 2005, the Brewers Association is a not-for-profit trade organization representing more than 5,200 breweries across the U.S. Its proclaimed purpose is “to promote and protect American craft brewers, their beers, and the community of brewing enthusiasts,” including the nation’s 46,000 homebrewers, plus associated industry professionals such as wholesalers and retailers. Its stated values range from “industry education” to “working to build a collegial community of craft brewers, homebrewers and beer enthusiasts.”

Fostering unity, safety, and stewardship while also lobbying the government, running multiple major trade and consumer events (including the Great American Beer Festival, the largest annual beer festival and competition in the U.S.), and acting as the de facto leader of the entire craft beer industry are all admirable, albeit ambitious, initiatives — and they are accomplished to varying levels of success. But in recent months, after mass layoffs, canceled events, and accusations of apathy toward racial injustices, the Brewers Association (BA), like much of the industry it represents, is floundering.

Most recently, complaints about the BA’s lack of transparency and communication regarding unfulfilled Diversity & Inclusion Event Grants have raised cries for accountability toward the country’s biggest craft beer advocacy organization. And while members and would-be grant recipients have remained relatively patient during the coronavirus pandemic — understanding these unique circumstances have created an unprecedentedly difficult landscape in which to operate — that patience is wearing thin.

Who Does The BA Actually Represent?

The Brewers Association has stated in the past that it works for voting brewery members. Membership types include breweries, distributors, individuals, breweries in planning, allied trade, retailers, and educational institutions. Some take fault with this model, believing it prioritizes some breweries’ voices over other members. Danii Oliver, owner and brewer at Island to Island Brewery in Fort Worth, Texas, says it is not equitable or logical. “[The Brewers Association] doesn’t represent everyone in the industry. It represents membership, and membership comes in the form of dollars,” Oliver says. Because brewery members pay dues based on barrels produced per year (there’s a calculator), Oliver believes this creates inequity between higher-paying “members who are paying tens of thousands of dollars based on the amount of barrels that they’re producing annually,” and a smaller breweries’ comparatively minuscule membership fees. She’s been reluctant to call out this inequity because, she says, “you can’t move an inch if you lose your access to the entire mile.”

Bop Pease, Brewers Association president and CEO, somewhat addresses the disconnect between responsibility toward members and responsibility toward consumers and the industry at large: “We picture the future of the craft beer industry as one with a broader base of craft beer drinkers and diverse employees at all levels, and we know that getting there will be a collaborative effort between industry leaders, breweries and beer drinkers,” Pease writes in a statement to VinePair. He cites recent organizational changes that “demonstrate our move in this direction,” including the 2017 update to the Marketing and Advertising Code created largely in response to the historic sexist objectification of women in brewery marketing materials, but conceivably could also cover additional problematic advertising methods considered to be racist or homophobic.

That same year, the BA established its Diversity Committee and appointed its first — and to date, only — diversity ambassador, Dr. J. Nikol Jackson-Beckham, who has held the position since.

The BA released a new Complaint and Remediation Process for Code of Conduct Violations on Sept. 15 that lays out a disciplinary process for any member found to be in violation of the Code of Conduct — that is, as long as it took place after Aug. 6, 2020 when the code was initially released; and if the complaint is filed by a member of the professional brewing division, the only subset of members authorized to make a formal complaint.

Backlash from the “too-little, too-late” crowd was swift, with social media posts calling the update “pathetic,” demanding Pease’s resignation, as well as the more straightforward “F*ck the BA.”

Diversity & Inclusion: Grants Not Included

The BA says on its website it has awarded $75,000 toward 21 events since 2018 and pledged $50,000 to 14 Diversity & Inclusion Event Grant recipients in 2020 alone. Oliver was one of this year’s grant recipients for her Beersgiving initiative, a monthly event “that brings civilian and military families together by combining craft beer S.T.E.M. experiments with local food and beer offerings.”

But to date, Oliver says she has received no funds, no explanation of when to expect them, and no suggested alternatives from the BA. Oliver reached out to the BA via email in March to inquire about the status in light of Covid-19, noting she understood there may be delays. The BA’s office manager, Alana Koenig-Busey, replied to Oliver, saying she was unable to provide an ETA for grant checks.

Oliver says she has not received any further communication from the BA about the grant, despite following up and providing virtual alternatives the BA could support.

“The BA has not put out any official information, has not sent out an official email to the recipients,” Oliver says. “And they haven’t put out anything to say, ‘Hey, we announced that we’re giving these people this [grant], but we have to pull back on it, and here are the reasons why.’ They haven’t publicly done that.”

Los Angeles-based Crowns & Hops was also named a grant recipient for 2020 to support Dopetoberfest, a festival featuring “panel discussions led by groups who focus on advocating for diversity and inclusion in craft beer, a homebrewers of color showcase, and a craft beer tasting,” which was set to take place in October. “As soon as Covid hit, we notified the BA that we would probably not take our stipend,” says Teo Hunter, Crowns & Hops co-founder and head of beer operations.

According to Hunter, he and co-founder Beny Ashburn suggested the BA instead either distribute the funds to Black-owned breweries disproportionately struggling due to Covid-19, or allow for a delay in payment for Crowns & Hops to use in the future. “Quite honestly, we had to chase them down,” Hunter says, explaining he and Ashburn had reached out multiple times before finally receiving a reply on April 30. Hunter says Koenig-Busey communicated “it was possible the grant would be put on hold until 2021.” No information has been provided since.

During a phone interview with VinePair on Sept. 14, Hunter and Ashburn both expressed resignation rather than surprise at the BA’s non-reply: “Unfortunately, we expected it,” Hunter says. For Crowns & Hops and other Black-owned businesses, being “let down, not supported, or not heard” has been par for the course, Ashburn says, adding, “We’ve been pushing this narrative for so long [and] we have found we can’t necessarily always depend on some of the industry leaders.”

Other grant recipients confirmed similar experiences. Liz Garibay, executive director of the Chicago Brewseum, says she was awarded the Diversity & Inclusion Event Grant to support a four-day Beer Culture Summit in November, which has since transitioned to a virtual model. She notes that because the BA staff member who sent the original award notification email was no longer at the BA, “I reached out to a colleague in early summer to find out what was going on. At that time, I was informed that grants were still a go,” Garibay writes VinePair in an email. In early August, Garibay says, she reached out to “another colleague to ask whom I should contact at the BA … I reached out to ask questions but to also inform them that we were still planning to host our conference, albeit virtually. I never heard back. I’ve sent a follow-up message and am still awaiting a response.”

Correcting the Course

To some, the Brewers Association’s habitual silence means it has fundamentally failed in several of its stated core values: Providing craft brewers with a unified voice, promoting ethical and legal trade practices, building relationships and collaborating with industry partners, fostering a diverse community within the craft brewing universe, and promoting unity among craft brewers.

When it comes to addressing cultural issues like social justice, “we still believe there’s an opportunity to correct,” says Hunter. Similar organizations like the American Cider Association (the BA equivalent for the hard cider industry) have already put anti-racism programs into effect for their members, demonstrating that an association-driven approach to equity is feasible.

Correcting its current course by sharing the collective burden of responsibility is precisely why Rachael Engel, head brewer at Bosk Brew Works in Woodinville, Wash., says she’s running for the BA’s board of directors. Engel is currently a candidate for a seat on the board as a packaging brewery member. She’s been in the beer industry for over 20 years and believes the BA is “working more for the businesses and not the individual.” She continues, “We need to recognize that there are people out there.”

Engel explains her motivation for running: “I’m trans, which is part of why I wanted to throw my hat in. I’ve been talking a big game about inclusion, but I figured that it was time that I actually did something about it.” Although “tempted” to revoke her brewery’s membership, Engel says, “I can’t speak for other people, but to me, that seems like a cop-out. And I thought, ‘it’s time to start trying to change it from the inside.’”

However, speaking about Jackson-Beckham, Engel says, “Dr. J’s done amazing work [as the BA’s diversity ambassador], but she’s only one person.” In other words, inclusion and representation is not the responsibility of the individual, but the entire industry.

“There’s an opportunity to rectify this,” Oliver says, citing “transparency and accountability” as her expectations from the BA moving forward.

On Sept. 15, Pease replied to VinePair’s inquiry about the Diversity & Inclusion Event Grant program, saying many of the events “were either postponed or canceled,” and that the BA is currently “in the process of contacting each recipient with an update on next steps.” He added that the BA “will be working with the board to assess priorities and budget allocations for 2021 and look forward to sharing the next steps in our DEI initiatives in the coming months.”

No further details were offered.

The article Not Heard, Not Supported, and Let Down: How The Brewers Association Lost Its Way appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/brewers-association-diversity/

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johnboothus · 4 years

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Not Heard Not Supported and Let Down: How The Brewers Association Lost Its Way

Who Does The BA Actually Represent?

That same year, the BA established its Diversity Committee and appointed its first — and to date, only — diversity ambassador, Dr. J. Nikol Jackson-Beckham, who has held the position since.

Diversity & Inclusion: Grants Not Included

Oliver says she has not received any further communication from the BA about the grant, despite following up and providing virtual alternatives the BA could support.

Correcting the Course

“There’s an opportunity to rectify this,” Oliver says, citing “transparency and accountability” as her expectations from the BA moving forward.

No further details were offered.

The article Not Heard, Not Supported, and Let Down: How The Brewers Association Lost Its Way appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/brewers-association-diversity/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/not-heard-not-supported-and-let-down-how-the-brewers-association-lost-its-way

0 notes

machinehead · 7 years

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RE: PINEAPPLE SUNFLOWER SEEDS AND MORE

I don’t know if any you have tried this ridiculous experiment with sunflower seeds and/or pineapple, but the comments and this music video by nut job/ Head Case Floyd MC BBQ have kept me in stitches!! @mcbbq - Big Loads (music video): https://youtu.be/s7wqVXBTRHI

And I couldn’t stop laughing at this photo: https://instagram.com/p/BU4jHD1FDj_/ Dyin’ ova' here! This just in; my A&R head honcho Monte Conner tells me that veteran music manager Scott Koenig claims that pure Pumpkin Seed Oil produces HUGE loads! One more thing to try I guess... I have yet to see any results, but it is supposed to take a couple weeks. Below are 3 of the most interesting replies I recieved regarding muslim/gay friends. From: Peter Southwood Sunflower seeds and pineapple - no fucking idea. Sounds like bullshit. Muslim Friends - Apart from having very few friends anyway, none at the moment. However, I have known plenty, and the one thing I know is that they are people first, Muslim second (unlike the majority of Christians I have met). The Muslim community in the UK don’t even recognise jihadists as being Muslim. They don’t want the three pricks who attacked London on Saturday to be buried with Muslims. Kathy Griffin - It’s all a matter of perspective. If there weren’t beheadings by extremists in the middle east, would we see the picture in a different light? If this were during the election campaign, would we see it as less disgusting? With what Trump has said about Muslims, trying to ban them from going to the US, people could see the image as a jihadist with the presidents head, and therefore an attack on America. Personally, I have no problems with the picture; not funny nor satirical, but controversial and too easy to be misinterpreted by those who want to. Gay friends - Can’t say much about having gay friends; as I mentioned before, I have very few friends as it is, let alone gay ones. However, being gay myself, I find it funny that it’s frowned upon in the metal community. Let’s face it, one of the most popular rock singers was gay (Freddie Mercury), and the main figure behind the leather look that a lot of metal bands and fans adhere to, Rob Halford, got his look from the Leather scene in the gay community! Personally, I’m not worried about being open at a metal gig. In fact, whilst queuing outside the Hammersmith Apollo to see you guys, I got speaking to a couple of others. When they asked if I was married, I told them that my boyfriend and I were waiting for a while. We then went on to have a fucking fantastic time inside. The fact that I’m in the UK and not the US may explain it somewhat; there’s no-where near the level of bigotry over here. There are still some fucktards, but I’ve been lucky enough not to have come across them (not that I would, even if they wanted it!) From: Waseem Ahmed Mr Flynn A 43 year old Londoner here who’s been listening to your music since 1994, well-kept digipaks of Burn My Eyes and TMTC proudly sat in my music collection, along with your other releases. And a muslim too. And I naturally know shedloads of muslims, both professionally and personally. Last Sunday, I was on the underground on my way to the theatre in the Covent Garden area with my kids. My sister sat opposite me, still heavily mourning the loss of her childhood favourite Chris Cornell. I received a text from a friend in Paris asking me to be careful as emotions would be running high following the London Bridge incidents. I responded that I’d be fine, "I’m wearing a Machine Head t-shirt so everyone will love me." Then it hit me. We’ve reached a point in London, one of the most awesome multicultural cities in the world, where we are now having to explain ourselves and how we differ to the maniacs that wreaked havoc in Manchester and London. Passing questions. All politely asked though. Are you ashamed about what they did? You’re not like those other muslims are you? At that moment, protecting me from any glare was my Bloodstone & Diamonds tour t-shirt. Damn, bad times. My 9-year-old boy is going to his first gigs this year, ticking off Linkin Park and Metallica of his wishlist. He’s scared after hearing about the Ariane Grande concert incident. I’ve told him he will be safe as security has increased everywhere. Fortunately he’s not cottoned onto the muslim label thing yet. That would be heartbreaking to see. I’ve been gigging in London since the age of 17. Classic venues such as The Marquee and Astoria have gone. One thing has remained. The camaraderie at metal gigs, irrespective of faith, skin tone or whatever. Everyone looks after everyone and we’re all there for the same thing. Together. Irrespective of the nonsense taking place in the world, I hope this bond remains throughout my lifetime and beyond. Well now you kinda know another muslim, although via email. If you’re ever in London and fancy a hearty home cooked curry, you’re most welcome to join me and my family. I’ll invite my gay work colleagues too. They are awesome too. And one’s a diehard metaller and one my favourite gig buddies ☺ All the best Waseem From: Svetlana Simanski Subject: Muslims and pineapples Hey Robb, I just read your TGJ email and laughed a lot - what a mix of topics and - since I'm already craving for new MH stuff - I thought the email would maybe an update. Anyway... as a straight girl I have been confronted with the pineapple-hypothesis several times in my life and - until today - in my opinion this is just a way to get girls into BJs a little more. :D Men can never get enough, so they invented this hoax to maybe achieve exactly this. And yes, I already tried to prove the hypothesis. Guess what, the pineapples had no effect at all. If you've ever tasted cum in your life you might know why pineapple-flavor sounds like a nice game-changer. So much on this topic. Now lets get to the muslims. I'm 28 years old right now and I am from Germany. After WW2 there came many guest-workers from Turkey to help us out here, to rebuild the country and most of them stayed, had families and their kids had families themselves, but I never was in touch with them. I met some in my time as a student at university, but never was closer friends with one so I didn't have a chance to get to know the culture or the religion. So, honestly, I had some prejudices. Not from my own experience, but from the word that spread. I live in a big city and we have to deal with some issues here. There are places you shouldn't visit after dark or even whole parts of the city which are not completely safe for white girls in black clothes and without a hijab. Well, of course I had kind of an inner fight with myself and these prejudices. I didn't want to have them at all and since we welcomed like two millions of refugees in Germany over the past two years I decided to work this out for me. Can you believe we still have Nazi-stuff going here in Germany? Didn't they learn anything from history or is it just a story, a bad fairy tale for some people? Honestly, I don't get it. Anyway I took a new job offer at a stationary youth welfare institution and had no idea what to expect. This was kind of an experiment for me and I started six months ago. I work there with 22 refugees. With kids. They came all the way without their parents or any other relatives. The youngest one is 15 years old and he arrived in Germany when he was 13. He did the whole fucking trip vom Afghanistan to Germany by himself. This age I played with barbie or tried out how to look good with make-up. Those were my problems. Wow... I thought I had to go through some things in my life, but I realized it was nothing compared to what they did to come here. What they had to do in their countries to basically survive. They killed for the Taliban to save their families. Can you imagine? No, neither can I. So now I know like 26 muslims (my boss and some coworkers are muslims as well) and I love them all. The kids are so kind and so cute, help- and respectful. You can't imagine. For me this changed everything in my life. Before this job I couldn't image to have a romantic relationship with a muslim, now I can. Besides... they're all a little too young, but in ten years from now... I'd see a bunch of handsome and polite young men from Afghanistan and I can tell you, there are some really, really special characters among them. Just awesome. I got to know their culture a little bit, their habits and routines in religious practice and I even started to learn a little Persian. My job is to look after them in any situation and explain the pitfalls of german bureaucracy. We are also friends somehow, they tell me stories about their lives in Afghanistan, Syria, Iraq and Eritrea - sad and happy ones - and this is basically all I need. This job just gives me back so much. The love and the kindness you get back from these kids is amazing. It took some time to realize: I'm part of their lives now, I am somehow their sister, mother, aunt and friend at the same time. I can't write down all my experiences here, but I wanted to let you know at least a small part of my story and how this job changed my view, my behavior, my thinking and the way I speak to others about muslims or their culture, especially from Afghanistan. I'm hoping my English isn't too bad and you can somehow imagine what I tried to describe. Hope to see you in Germany in 2018. I'll be there, somewhere in the crowd. Cheers from Germany, Svetlana

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dothewrite · 7 years

Text

Ringleaders - Chapter Three.

Here is the original ask for this prompt. Here is the announcement for this project!

Prologue. Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Four.

[This is legit like, 5k in one sitting and I thought my brain was steaming out of my ears. ‘Is the lady suspicious, or is Kuroo just dense?’ - coming to you in theaters now.]

It’s a Saturday, but Kuroo finds himself waking up to his six o’clock alarm anyway. It takes him at least four bleary eyed tries to slap the snooze button on his phone, and he groans with excruciating pain that once again, he is required to function for another day. He shifts, his phone clatters onto floor, and he dozes back off to sleep for two minutes, dreaming about throwing himself off a high building.

Breakfast isn’t much better. It’s slow, he pours orange juice into a bowl and his toast into a cup, and the sound of children playing outside sets his teeth on edge. It’s a nice neighbourhood he lives in, but with nice neighbourhoods come families, which means children. He almost runs one over when he starts his car to make his way to his lab back on campus. The look of betrayal from the distraught child glances off him like oil on water and he pushes his foot hard against the gas pedal.

There is one saving grace, however, is that he’s famous at work. ‘Nobody talk to Kuroo Tetsurou before it hits ten’ is an unofficial rule, and Tetsu reigns supreme as the lord of zombies in the bright corridors of exhausted academia. They don’t fear him exactly, because he doesn’t snap or grumble if he’s disturbed from his walking sleep. It’s just universally known that unless you’re really deprived of conversation, you’re not going to be very entertained with a man who can barely form words. It’s even worse if you ask Kuroo to do something for you in a hurry in the mornings. The last time he was sent off on a mission to deliver a package, he got lost for about an hour and a half and was finally found sleeping underneath a bench outside. They took pictures, and he had to see them pasted everywhere for a week, but he was too busy feeling relieved that they didn’t turn him into a meme to mind.

“Morning,” he hears an amused voice call after him, and Kuroo waves his hand tiredly in reply. Or tries to, but his fingers only manage to twitch oddly by his sides and the person chuckles and walks off. Kuroo smiles dumbly, although what for he’s no clue, and unlocks the door to his office.

The chair is simply too far, he decides with one eye cracked open, so he makes do with the wall to his immediate left.

Sleep had eluded him for far longer than usual last night, and he had found himself taking at least five sleeping pills before coming to the realization that if he had any more, he might be put in a permanent coma for at least five days. Not that it’s a terrible idea, but he prefers to actually feel like he’s sleeping, when he’s sleeping. Without any other options, he’d settled for actually counting sheep. They were kind of cute- black, round things that baa-ed happily at him until they started doing little tap dances in his imaginary field, and his mind finally shut itself down a few hours before sunrise.

He sinks down onto the carpeted floor and lets his head fall into his arms. There’s a voice that nags at him that says he’s not supposed to sleep at work, but as his eyelids start to fall, the darkness seems too soothing for him to resist. This time he dreams of little sheep-people, wooly centaurs, maybe, running around in what is now a slightly purple field, making happy giggling noises that sound suspiciously like this morning’s children. A rustling sound suddenly permeates his dream, and he shuffles uncomfortably against the concrete wall. Not too awake, the sheep people incorporate the odd sound into their movements, their thundering hooves suddenly making sounds like paper on carpet. Then, there’s a pause outside, and the sheep people pause too- before he hears a decisive knock on the door that startles him out of his crumpled position. Kuroo topples over sideways with an ‘oof’. He swears he hears a soft sigh on the other side of the door, but forgets it quickly when a pristine envelope stares at him from the floor. He prefers the sheep people, to be honest, but he picks it up anyway and gets to his feet.

It’s a daunting task, but he’s a big boy, and he manages to wobble his way into his expensive leather chair (straight out of his own pocket too, he was sorely disappointed when his petition for upgraded office supplies was soundly rejected) which he collapses into.

Kuroo turns the envelope over several times in his fingers, noting how there’s nothing on it except for an exceptionally penned ‘Kuroo’ on the top right corner and sealed with a traditional lick. He tears it open with a noise of satisfaction when it rips jaggedly under his finger.

It smells like tea leaves when he sniffs the page, and is filled with a handwritten message that looked like it had come straight from ‘Calligraphy for Dummies’. He’s never received anything from anyone who had writing down like an art form before, but when he looks down and finds the signature, he’s surprised by how unsurprised he is. Trust a poetry major to write like the Queen of England.

Kuroo, it begins, and the lack of any formalities gives him a tired chuckle. Here he was, expecting purple prose. I hope it isn’t too odd for you to receive a written letter in this day and age, but I thought perhaps this would be the best way to get your attention. I’m sure you have far too many unopened emails in your inbox for any of them to catch your eye. Kuroo grumbles at that, because she’s right. After the previous evening, I suspect you might not want to meet with me face to face either, so this was my only option. I’m using my best handwriting, even, which I hope you appreciate because my fingers are cramping.

I… can’t presume to understand your position. Admittedly I only know the cursory information available to anyone who asks the right questions, but I have noticed that you are rarely intercepted by people on campus regarding your extra-curricular activities. I took the liberty of guessing that you keep your personal and professional life separate.

I envy your ability to do so.

Kuroo blinks at that. The sentence jumps out at him with sudden honesty, sudden intimacy, and he can see the way it pens darker than all the other sentences so far. She must have hesitated, or perhaps struggled with writing it. The smirk slides off his face, and he sits up straighter in his seat. He doesn’t know what he did to earn her confidence, but his discomfort was no excuse to disregard her sudden seriousness, even if there wasn’t anyone else to see him in his office.

Nevertheless, I must have been an unwelcome surprise last night. I, of course, had my own reasons for being there and will not apologize for them, but I should have given you less grief, possibly. I doubt I’ll remember I even thought this later in the day, so please don’t hold me to that; I have a tendency to be insufferable, quite like yourself. At this, he has to be impressed, because this is the first time he’s been insulted so very articulately, and it makes him squirm a little in his seat. Still, I assume that I am a little wrench thrown into your plans, whatever they may be. I would like to assure you that I have no intentions of breaking the barrier between your two lives- quite the opposite, actually. However, with regards to your ‘organization’, because it has overlapped with my own interests if you recall specific parts of our conversation last night, I will not be able to completely leave this opportunity before me untouched.

I’d like to propose a truce. A trade. An agreement, of sorts, that I hope will be beneficial to us both. I will not jeopardize your position in exchange for some information that I hope will clear up some of my own involvement with my… struggle, with authority. Authorities. We are different, but not enough so, it seems. I hope you will consider this proposal carefully, and as I assume you already know where I hold my office hours, I welcome any questions or enquiries that you may have.

I await your favourable response.

Yours truly.

The letter ends with a very dignified swirl that Kuroo assumes is her signature, and he’s faintly impressed. Either she’s put a lot of thought into crafting an autograph, or she has, most likely, given him her actual signature on paper in an act of good faith. He lets the thick letter paper fall from his hands and the first thing he does is pull up his own email.

The contrast is quite startling, he has to admit. He thought his emails were okay until this morning, but clearly, he writes like a drunk baboon in comparison. Thx, one of his emails end in, and Kuroo cringes so hard that his forehead meets his desk with a thunk. He considers replying in kind, with a damn posh letter, but it only takes one more glance at her cursive script for him to sigh and give up that idea entirely. Perhaps he’ll draw a picture instead.

He imagines a little chibi figure of him with a thumbs up going ‘okay!’, and cackles loudly to himself.

Kuroo catches her after lunch in their commons when he slinks in for his fourth cup of coffee. It’s excellent coffee too- all the grad students had pooled good money together to get one of those high-end coffee machines with George Clooney in their commercials, and ever since then it’s become a local treasure. The line for it isn’t as long as it would be on a weekday, but he spies her sipping on her own mug in contemplative silence, a large book spread out on her lap. He hesitates for a moment, but slips out from his position in the line and makes his way over to her. It’s a big sacrifice, and he hopes she knows that.

“I felt like I was being summoned to court,” he sits himself on the armrest right beside her. She on the other hand, barely shifts, and the only sound he hears is her small breath as he smiles and her hair shimmies forward when her head dips.

He waits patiently for her to close her book- anthology- and she places it on the coffee table in front of her and sweeps her hair to one side to look at him clearly. Kuroo inhales sharply at the very vibrant grey he’s greeted with- almost violet under the right lighting- and he finds that he can’t look away at all.

“Sorry,” she says, her voice soft and careful, “I can’t stop writing like my thesis. I can’t stop dreaming about my thesis.”

“Wow, your major sounds like a riot.”

“Yours sounds equally fascinating,” and he has to grin at that, “’cus then I’d dream about numbers and I might actually just die in my sleep.”

“Feel my pain,” Kuroo laughs, and although she doesn’t laugh with him, he doesn’t miss the way the corners of her eyes crinkle.

He feels thrown off balance by this completely harmless chat. Funny small talk and charming quips were his actual specialty, as is being a piece of shit, and nobody is ever surprised to hear his distinctive laughter echoing through corridors or past stairwells. It all comes out when he knows he’s allowed to, and his mirth dries up sufficiently to make way for solemnity during the nights. He’s never had to pretend to be casual in front of someone who knew his occupation, and what’s even stranger is that this doesn’t feel out of place at all.

She’s smiling right back like she means each word, both now and in her letter, and Kuroo feels like he’s being left out of some grand secret. Like he’s falling into a trap, but when she blinks, her lips twist into an awkward smile that gives away her usual loneliness. He can’t help but feel his gut twisting around his chest. He can’t help but feel like he’s not lying at all, and the very thought unnerves him.

“Your letter,” Kuroo suddenly pitches his voice lower, both in volume and in pitch, and his face darkens. She leans forward in response, and once again her hair falls back across her face to hide her eyes from view. She’s no longer smiling. “I’d like to discuss it more, but not here.”

She doesn’t respond, her tightening fingers the only indication of her understanding, so he continues. “I’m going to be frank with you right now- I don’t like the sound of anything, or you appearing out of nowhere. You’re getting into things too large for you alone, but if you really want to hear what you’re asking for, I’m not going to stop you. That is, until I know exactly everything there is to know about you.”

“You have a hacker,” she responds quickly, “your types usually do. You can type in my name and find out more about me than I can tell you.”

“There are things you don’t know even about yourself.” Kuroo stands up briskly and she glances at him for a split second. His eyes are chilly, brows harsh and unforgiving and he watches with a small ripple of satisfaction when she shivers involuntarily and turns her stare back to her hands. “I’m good at tugging those things out of people. Data can’t tell you if someone’s lying, but I can. I’ll know how serious you are about this ‘trade’ if I see you later. Four pm, at the closed train station on the yellow line heading north. I wouldn’t be late if I were you.”

There’s a muted silence to her movements as she reaches for her book without another word and opens it again. Kuroo frowns at the lack of response, but chooses to turn away to finish filling up his mug like he had intended. The chatter doesn’t stop around him at all, indicating that their conversation had gone completely unnoticed, but the feeling of discomfort doesn’t leave him. Kuroo feels like something had slipped through his fingers and he had no clue what it was.

Setting an alarm for three fifty, he settles back into his office chair and tries to forget about the way her fingers shook against well-worn pages.

Although he had told her not to be late, there’s nothing hurried about the way he walks towards the empty station. Still in his regular college clothes, he looks less like a man on a mission and more like a geocaching young guy, but that doesn’t stop his hands in his pockets and the purposeful crunch of gravel underneath his always metal lined shoes.

His approach is by no means quiet, but she barely responds to his presence before her, favouring her Starbucks cup in her hands instead. It’s four fifteen, the sky barely darkening at all, and she sits as if it’s winter on the aged bench. There’s something wrong about this picture, Kuroo feels, it’s a complete contrast from her carefree behavior the night before and where he had spent an entire day feeling like he was being thrown around like an orca does with its prey, she sits curled into herself, protecting her underbelly from the predator.

It was what he wanted to feel like, and Kuroo’s achieved it. She’s here on his request, and he holds all the cards in his hands now, all except for her promise of silence, and that’s quite a lot of cards to be going on.

Yet when she looks up, straight ahead at the train tracks instead of him, he has to take a seat beside her before his determination fails.

“You’re focused on your leadership role a lot, aren’t you?”

Kuroo is glad that he doesn’t have to be the one to start the conversation yet again. “I never mentioned being a leader.”

“You walk like one. You talk like one. You most probably are one.”

“Excuse me for being obvious,” Kuroo replies, slightly affronted. The small tell-tale breath sounds again, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, not like it did earlier that day. He has no clue how he had noticed that, and so has no countermeasures against the light flush that touches his cheeks.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” she murmurs, “and you probably don’t view them as faults.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” Kuroo answers stiffly. “But I think you’ll find a psychoanalysis of me won’t get you closer to what you want.”

“No,” and this time she laughs out loud, “what does is a psychoanalysis of me.”

“Yup.”

“Alright then.” She shifts, and Kuroo finds himself looking into those grey eyes again. “I’ve nothing to hide. Give it your best shot.”

There’s a pause between the two of them, and Kuroo sniggers. “That suspense made me feel like I should pull out my hi-tech scanner. This isn’t Star Trek. Let’s just talk.” She’s the one with the quiet blush now, and Kuroo catches it anyway despite her efforts to hide her embarrassment. “You don’t seem like the type to talk to many people.”

“I don’t get along with many people.”

“Why’s that?” Kuroo finds himself actually curious. He’s been there, that socially awkward stage, and he’s still surrounded by it constantly (making small talk with Ushijima and Kenma feels like dragging an indoor cat out for walk), but there’s no mistaking the iron in her voice. This wasn’t just social awkwardness.

“They piss me off easily. I get pissed off easily.”

“Oho,” he smirks, “so the silent and serene type does have a fuse.”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, “I don’t mind annoying people, I just don’t like stupid people.” Her eyes sharpen in a way that Kuroo hasn’t seen before, not even during those dirty alley fights, and his fingers clench in his pockets. “People who don’t think from other people’s point of view frustrate me, so my ideology clashes with theirs quite often. I don’t have any political or organizational affiliations because of that, if that’s what you were angling for.”

“I can certainly see why you don’t like idiots,” he nods, somewhat empathetically, “you’re not too slow yourself.”

“You’re lucky I have brothers,” she eyes him amusedly, “your insults sting quite a bit.”

“Backhanded compliments, I’d like to think of them as,” Kuroo corrects. “I’m nice to my friends.”

Her eyes soften at that, and she looks away. There’s a taste of wistfulness that tugs at the corners of her lips, and Kuroo feels left out of some obvious secret yet again. “Are your brothers your only regular social contact?”

“Yes, I try to stay away from their friends. I’m not involved with whatever they get up to either, I just follow them on the evenings where they’re headed towards trouble. I don’t know who I end up fighting either, only that they’re after my younger brother in particular. He finds it fun and easy to scam drug dealers, you see, so I have to clean up his mess.”

“So he’s smart, but can’t finish his own battles, huh?”

“Precisely. They’ve nothing to do with why I want to know more. They’re just something I have to live with.”

Kuroo reckons it’s a bit more than that, but he keeps his silence. “Then tell me why you want to know more, and why you aren’t blackmailing me for something bigger.”

“I’m not blackmailing you,” she huffs, and she turns back to him with an exasperated look, “I know that’s what it sounded like in my letter, but how else were you to come to me? I’m going to keep your secret anyway.”

“Why?”

“Can’t you tell?” Her cup gives a low pop when her fingers dig into it mercilessly. “You’re so good at sniffing out lies and asking invasive questions, but you can’t tell what’s in someone’s eyes?”

“I can’t, not anymore,” and the honest admission astonishes him. Kuroo itches to clap a hand over his mouth, but the tension in his body is growing, and he feels like he’s being hung dry in a desert and he’s the only thing left, soaked and miserable underneath his own raincloud. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. “Can’t you tell?” He mocks.

She bites her lip between her teeth so hard that it leaves red marks. However, the sudden anger is draining, and there’s something too alike sorrow in her stare. It confuses him too much for him to feel irritated by it, and Kuroo finds himself at a loss for words.

“I’m always angry,” she finally says, and he feels it like a stab to his gut. “I’m always… searching for something, and I’m tired of not knowing what for. Maybe it’s just my indifference to everything, but the longer I sit still, the more I feel like I’m losing something.”

He knows. He knows so well that it feels like someone’s carving a ditch in his chest, and a memory of his merry band of misfits around a table floats up.

“I’m doing this for me, Kuroo,” she’s sitting completely straight and he doesn’t recognize this person at all. At the same time, he sees her every day, when he looks in the mirror, and when he goes to his headquarters at night. It’s been so long that he’s forgotten the name, forgotten what it looks like when it rises to the surface after it’s been buried into his bones for so long. “I don’t need anything bigger from you, because I don’t need anything. I want to know more because- because-,” he waits and waits for the words to stop choking her voice, “-because I can’t do anything by myself, but you seem like you know what path you’re on. I just want to be on my own path, that’s all. I’m curious about your organization because it’s the only one that the strays stick with, and I wish my brother joined your group instead of fucking around with drugs all the time.”

It’s a mess of statements, one after the other with no transition at all, and she slumps backwards onto the bench and hurls her cup onto the dilapidated train tracks. It skids to a stop, her incorrectly spelled name revealing itself underneath the dimming sunlight.

“Ahh…” she sighs, and he glances at her, “it’s been a while since I’ve felt so much about anything. I’m tired.”

“Yes,” Kuroo finds his tongue again, “I thought I fucked up and met up with the wrong person.”

“I’m normally quite calm, I promise,” she smiles, although it is quite tired, it’s genuine, and he can see the relief in her eyes.

“Your mysterious persona was done pretty well for someone with so much, uh, emotion.”

“It’s not a persona,” she grins, “and I can’t believe you thought I was mysterious.”

“You showed up in the sewage system in the middle of the night and said nothing. Seriously?”

She rises to her feet, still grinning, and he follows. Kuroo realizes that he’s a good head taller than her, and has to take a step away so that he can look down to see her face properly. “I just like being insufferable, like I said. Being annoying is what keeps me sane.”

“I suppose we have something in common,” he admits grudgingly, but he doesn’t feel as disgruntled as he sounds when he sees he relax. He’s said something right, although how that little comment had ended up being positive, he has no clue.

“So we’re good?” She asks.

“We’re good.” Kuroo nods. “There’ll be something sent to you tomorrow, if everything checks out.”

She looks a bit puzzled at that, but the smile doesn’t fade and she shrugs again. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

He nods again and lifts a hand goodbye. She mirrors his action, and he turns away before she does, heading back to his car the way he came.

“That was kind of you.”

Kuroo stops suddenly in the middle of the crowded pavement and someone bumps face first into his back. He waves a hand and apologies sheepishly at the disgruntled businessman who hurries along with a sour look on his face. Akaashi, on the other hand, says nothing and watches as his friend stumbles his way through basic social interaction.

“Were you spying on me again?” Kuroo sighs, and gestures for him to follow. Akaashi pushes himself off the wall with a kick and falls into step beside him. “Coffee?”

“The one two streets down has good seating,” Akaashi points out, and Kuroo hums, changing direction. “And yes, I was spying. It’s my job, Tetsu, the one you gave me.”

“The beast is free! Nobody is safe!” Kuroo cries dramatically with a hand over his heart. Akaashi rolls his eyes.

“Not men who slink off to abandoned train stations to meet up with girls.”

“Well? What’s the verdict?”

“The verdict is: you didn’t ask her very much.” Akaashi doesn’t sound accusing, only objective, and Kuroo feels grateful once again for so much tact built into one man. If it were Oikawa, or Nishinoya, he’d never hear the end of it. Or Tsukishima- it’d probably be inscribed onto his gravestone for all he knew. “You seemed moved. Do you trust her?”

“I think so,” Kuroo replies slowly, “oddly enough, she didn’t lie once.”

“A lot of people don’t lie about what they believe in. You’ve just been in this business too long.”

“I guess you could say so.”

Akaashi sighs again, this time fondly with a tinge of chastisement. Kuroo hangs his head at the sound. He doesn’t quite know what he did in a past life to deserve such a friend, but any time he tries to imagine life without Akaashi he feels a little part of his soul curl up and die.

“You’re really obtuse for an intelligent person; you should take a holiday and see if those brain cells grow back.”

“I don’t get paid for days off unless I’ve a doctor’s note,” Kuroo jokes, but Akaashi’s quiet, and Kuroo knows that his joke falls flat in the face of actual worry. “Maybe, ‘Kaashi,” he amends, “if I have some peace and quiet, maybe.”

“It’ll help,” comes the gentle reply, and Kuroo feels a warm hand brush against his. He takes it, and squeezes. “Maybe you’ll find some things you’ve lost over time.” Akaashi squeezes back. “Maybe you’ll realize why she didn’t seem quite the way you thought when you showed up.”

“You know absolutely everything, don’t you? You should have gone in my place with a mask of my face and would’ve done a better job being me than I did.”

“Obviously. But not everyone is as blind as you are, Tetsu,” and Kuroo laughs openly at that. “How anyone thinks that you’re intimidating is beyond me.”

“Dude, I’m just a cat pretending to know what I’m doing. All I really want in life is to sleep.”

“I see no inaccuracies in that statement.”

Kuroo smiles straight ahead, and something tells him that Akaashi is doing the same. Whatever strain he had been feeling earlier after his impromptu meeting seems to be melting right through his arm and out from the hand that still has Akaashi’s gripped softly in it.

“You missed your date, by the way.” Akaashi, Kuroo’s personal keeper, calendar and mother, adds.

Kuroo closes his eyes and tilts his head up towards the sky like he’s praying. “I know. I just ignored the messages.”

“And the phone calls.”

“And the phone calls,” Kuroo agrees.

“Do you want to be known to women as something other than a dick? Because I’ve got some news for you,” asks Akaashi, and Kuroo grins.

“I don’t care what women think. Do you think I’m a dick?”

“Quite a small one.”

“Ouch,” and Akaashi laughs. They’re almost there, their hands still linked in solidarity and companionship, and they push through the busy crowd with double the shoulders.

“Bokuto’s asked after you too,” Akaashi says, this time a little quieter, afraid to be overheard, “and I know you never avoid his messages.”

“Bokuto, my man! Does he just want to talk? Or has he painted some anti-government propaganda again, because I swear to god I can’t bail him out of trouble every damn time. How does he even manage to get his galleries set up when he’s always running from the police?”

“That’s a lot of frustration,” Akaashi smirks, “and I can answer all those questions for you but I shan’t. Be a decent person and catch up with your friends once in a while, please.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”

The barista welcomes them with a bright smile the moment they step in, and Kuroo finds it surprisingly easy to return the greeting with equal vigor. Akaashi was right- the seating is fantastic, and they pick out a small corner next to a window facing a tall skyscraper opposite. He’s tempted to close his eyes and sink into a very deep sleep in his very comfortable armchair.

“No more caffeine for you,” Akaashi gives him a mild stink eye, “but I’ll get you fruit juice.”

He spins away immediately when Kuroo blows him a sloppy kiss, but Kuroo catches a glimpse of the small smile anyway. He watches as Akaashi joins the line with his trademark, unimpressed expression, and wonders if he should text several apologies now that he has a moment to spare. Kuroo pulls out his phone wearily and stares at it for a few moments before dropping it onto his slumped chest.

Eh, he had time, and a small nap wouldn’t hurt anyone.

#kuroo tetsurou #akaashi keiji #female original character #sfw #ringleaders #anarchist au #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu #i writes the haikyuu #project fic

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epacer · 6 years

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San Diego Unified

Jury awards former student $2.1 million for sexual abuse by teacher at Crawford High

The San Diego Unified School District was negligent in failing to prevent a former teacher’s months-long sexual abuse of a student, a jury decided Wednesday.

The jury awarded $2.1 million in damages to the victim, a former student who is now 19, at the end of a trial that lasted two and a half weeks.

Toni Sutton, 40, a former Spanish teacher at Crawford High School, was sentenced to prison two years ago for having sex with the male student during a period of about eight months in 2015 and 2016.

She had sex with the student in her classroom dozens of times during first period with the door locked while the student was supposed to be in class, court documents showed, and the boy’s attendance suffered. She also had sex with him at her home and in her car.

In court documents and testimony, sources described how Sutton groomed the student, referred to as James Doe, for a sexual relationship by buying food for him, spending lots of time with him outside of class and driving him to school. The first sexual abuse occurred when the boy was 15 and the teacher was 37, according to court records.

But there was another problem besides Sutton’s abuse, attorneys for the student argued. They said school officials long ignored red flags about Sutton’s behavior, and it took too long for them to take action.

Several teachers had known months before Sutton’s arrest that Doe was missing class to be with Sutton in her classroom, according to documents and testimony. They had emailed Sutton, asking where Doe was, and she replied multiple times that he was with her. School employees knew Doe’s attendance was poor.

School administrators had also previously warned Sutton that she shouldn’t be sharing explicit personal details with students, according to documents and testimony. They had ordered her on multiple occasions to stop spending so much personal time in the classroom with students, Doe’s attorneys argued.

Yet school officials did not follow up with Sutton to ensure she stopped her behavior, attorneys said.

“Nobody ever follows up on anything here,” said Michael Kirby, one of Doe’s attorneys, during the trial. “There was no exercise of reasonable care in this case.”

She was also never officially disciplined or written up for her questionable behavior in her personnel files, he said.

“I couldn’t believe there was no site file,” said one juror, who asked to remain anonymous, interviewed after the verdict. “She could’ve been written up for anything.”

Key to Doe’s case was a 97-page report and testimony by Charol Shakeshaft of Virginia Commonwealth University, an expert on educational leadership and student sexual abuse who evaluates school sexual misconduct policies. Shakeshaft wrote the report for Doe’s attorneys.

Shakeshaft found that, at the time of Doe’s abuse, San Diego Unified’s policies “did not meet the standard of care” in preventing adult sexual abuse of students.

The policies and training that Crawford High School employees had access to did not detail how to identify and report behaviors that could be signs of adult-to-student sexual abuse, Shakeshaft, determined after studying the district’s policies, training and the hundreds of other documents related to Doe’s case.

Shakeshaft also said she found no evidence that students or parents had been trained on adult-student misconduct or sexual harassment.

“Although employees at Crawford High School received training, two important aspects – red flags and bystander responsibility – were missing,” Shakeshaft wrote in her report.

She noted that San Diego Unified has expanded its policies related to educator sexual misconduct since the Sutton case. That included a faculty handbook last school year prohibiting faculty from crossing professional boundaries in relationships with students and offering guidance on student attendance and mandated reporter requirements.

On Wednesday, the jury attributed to the school district 40 percent of the harm the student suffered, and 60 percent to Sutton. Sutton no longer works for the district and was stripped of her California teaching license.

Kirby said the verdict means vindication and “relief that it’s going to be over” for Doe, who was not in the courtroom when the verdict was read.

Attorneys for the school district, on the other hand, argued during the trial that school employees had done what they reasonably could to address Doe’s attendance problems and Sutton’s conduct.

“We do not believe that the school district employees were careless or negligent, that they cared deeply for the students,” defense attorney Michael Sullivan said Wednesday after the verdict was read.

Defense attorneys also argued that Crawford employees responded appropriately once they realized that Sutton had been abusing Doe.

Sullivan said the “vast, vast majority” of the blame for the abuse belonged to Sutton, rather than school district employees.

“They performed like reasonable people in difficult circumstances,” Sullivan said during the trial’s closing arguments. “Bad things can happen even when everyone takes action. We can’t presume that because this happened, somebody other than Ms. Sutton was responsible.”

In the months following Sutton’s arrest, Doe suffered from depression, embarrassment and guilt, said San Diego psychiatrist and physician Calvin Colarusso, who diagnosed Doe with post-traumatic stress disorder. The $2.1 million was awarded to pay for those emotional damages and for counseling.

“This is unfortunately an all-too typical case of child sex abuse,” Colarusso said while testifying during the trial. “This boy was vulnerable because of his living circumstances. She expertly groomed him and took advantage of him to deal with whatever issues she was dealing with.”

This isn’t the first time San Diego Unified has been ordered to pay for failing to stop a teacher’s sexual abuse of a student. In 2009, a former student at the School of Creative and Performing Arts was awarded $1.25 million.

In that case, the teacher was a male and the student was a female, and the age difference was similar to the Sutton case. The district in that case was also assigned 40 percent of the blame, and was ordered to pay $650,000 because of how responsibility was allocated.

Spokeswoman Maureen Magee said the district’s share of the Sutton award would be about $840,000. She said the district is reviewing whether to appeal. . *Reposted article from the UT by Kristen Taketa of August 8, 2018

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billssefton · 7 years

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coworker calls me his “work wife,” error in my offer letter, and more

It’s five answers to five questions. Here we go…

1. My coworker calls me his “work wife”

A couple of months ago, I joined a new team at work, in a role that is somewhat isolated from the rest of the group. So I was glad when another junior staff member who had joined the team a bit earlier reached out and showed me the ropes. As we grew more friendly, we also started sitting next to one another (our office has open seating with no assigned desks), and chatting occasionally during the day. Our remarks were always casual, and though they were not strictly work-related, we never discussed deep or personal topics. So, I was surprised when one day, he began referring to me as his “work wife.”

At first, it was simply in reference to that fact that someone had sat at the desk I usually claimed, breaking up our “marriage.” But in the next few days, he repeated the comment a couple times, once to another colleague. The term “work wife” makes me uncomfortable as it overstates our relationship, and may have a dubious connotation. As a young woman, I worry that it may undermine my professionalism. On the other hand, this colleague uses the term so casually that I don’t think he means anything by it. He is also on my level and does not work on any of the same projects as me, so there is no threat to my performance here.

Am I right to find the term “work wife” strange or is it actually commonly accepted? Either way, how do you think I should proceed here? I don’t want to alienate one of my only friends on my team by bringing this up as some kind of big problem or having a serious talk, but I would rather not deal with these comments.

It’s a common enough term (along with “work husband” and “work spouse”) to refer to someone at work who you’re close with and get along with uncommonly well (and can be same sex or opposite sex), although it sounds like he’s using it where the relationship doesn’t really warrant it. Either way, though, you don’t have to like it and you’re allowed to tell him to stop.

It would be fine to say something to your coworker like, “Hey, I don’t love that term. Let’s just say ‘coworkers.’”

2. My work is excellent but I can’t get promoted

I work at a very large company in a support role, it is basically glorified data entry, but it can call for a little critical thinking in some cases. I out-perform my coworkers by a large margin. On a team of 14 people, I account for 30% of the total productivity on any given day (on busy days, it is 50%). We are assigned work through “tickets,” and when we resolve an issue, we close a ticket. We are able to view how many total tickets the team closed every day, as well as how many we closed ourselves, which is how I have calculated my results.

Management is aware of this and of my aspirations to move up within the company, and they even “fight” for me to get that promotion (at least they say they do) but HR won’t grant the requests due to my lack of time with the company (four years). I would be okay with this if I wasn’t pulling all of the weight and having nothing to show for it.

Management will do things like nominate me for awards, discretionary bonuses, and extra PTO, which is great, but I feel like they are avoiding the real issue, which is the rest of their workforce. What will they do when I am gone? Are they holding me in this position because they know they will be in trouble if they lose me? Am I wrong in asking them to enforce their productivity metrics or raise the bar in order to light a flame under my coworkers? I understand that lazy people are everywhere, but I can’t help but feel as though I am being used as a crutch holding up the weight of our department.

They won’t promote you because you’ve only been there four years? When you said it was due to lack of time with the company, I thought you were going to say you’d only been there six months or something like that. Four years?! That’s ridiculous. At every other company in the world, that’s more than enough time to overcome any tenure rules about promotion.

So either they have a bizarrely ridiculous rule about length of tenure (have they told you how long you’d need to be there before they’d consider it?) or they’re keeping you in your position because you’re doing the work of four people.

“Top performer on a 14-person team, resolving 30-50% of daily tickets” is an excellent line for your resume. Go use it and find a job that rewards you appropriately.

3. Do I need to organize social outings for my staff?

I manage a staff of about 15 people whose offices are scattered across our company’s campus, so there are many members of my team that I won’t see/won’t see each other if it’s not intentional. For our team to function well, it’s important that we communicate and collaborate. To that end, we have standing meetings, regular professional development sessions and occasional group trips to industry conferences, an orientation process that emphasizes getting to know the rest of the department, etc. … all specifically work-day activities.

Previously, I had a couple of staff members who initiated regular happy hours and other social activities, as well. I was grateful for them because when the work day ends, while I truly enjoy my colleagues, I can’t wait to go home to my family and read a book in the bath with a glass of wine after dinner. I am also reluctant to be the organizer of happy hours because I don’t want to create “Ugh, I have to go out after work to make my boss happy” situations. That said, I know many people do like to socialize! With coworkers! And when someone else organized a happy hour, I went for a drink when I could — it was fun and low-key and there was usually a good crowd. I realized recently, however, that after some normal turnover, the main “social directors” are gone and no one has stepped up to take their place. Do I need to take this on? Or can I just go home and lock the door behind me?

You do not need to take this on! You do need to ensure that your team has opportunities to interact and collaborate, and it sounds like you’re doing that. There is nothing that says “and some of those opportunities needs to be after work or with alcohol.”

If you really want to address it, you could say to your whole team, “I’ve realized that since Jane and Fergus left, we haven’t had many happy hours or other social activities since they were generally the organizers. If anyone misses doing those, feel free to organize them! I’m not going to do it myself since I wouldn’t want anyone to feel pressure to attend. But it’s fine if you want to! And fine if you don’t, too.”

4. There’s an error in my offer letter

I recently received an offer from a great company, and the director of the program personally called to extend the offer. When negotiating salary over the phone, the director and I agreed on an hourly pay rate. The pay is not the best and much of the currency comes from getting a foot in this company’s door.

However, I just got my offer letter via email. The letter reflects an annual salary that ends up being less than our agreed upon hourly rate (and it has no mention of the hourly rate we discussed via phone). When I asked if our previously agreed upon hourly rate was used, the director sent me her formula. She calculated 40 hours per week x 4 weeks a month x 12 months a year x my hourly pay rate. Basically, her formula mistakenly uses 48 weeks in a year instead of the correct amount of 52 (essentially shorting me 4 weeks of accumulated pay).

It seems like my only option is to call out the director (whom I’ve met once and is essentially my future boss’s boss’s boss) on her math skills. She’s extremely accomplished, regarded for her intelligence, and generally comes across as someone who does not like to be corrected. How do I advocate for the correct pay without embarrassing her?

If she’s worth working for, she’s not going to penalize you for pointing out that she’s shorting you a month’s worth of pay! Truly — and if she seems to be holding it against you, that’s a huge red flag.

Just be matter of fact! For example: “Ah, it looks like you calculated it using 48 weeks in the year rather than 52. At 52 weeks in a year, it should be $X. Can you confirm that on your end?”

5. I spent 45 minutes helping a student and heard nothing back

I am an allied health practitioner who is sometimes approached by students from the local university for informational interviews or to answer questions about the way I work. I am happy to assist where I can — other professionals in my field certainly gave me similar access during my own training. I suspect that the course faculty are suggesting me as a contact for students because of my willingness here.

A student recently emailed me a set of (numerous) questions about the way I work, my thoughts on the industry, etc. It took about 45 minutes to work through it, so it wasn’t an insignificant request. I am a bit taken aback that the student didn’t reply to acknowledge my response or say thank you. Judging from the question design, I think the student sent it to several practitioners at least.

I feel like I’m saying “I DESERVE GRATITUDE” but really I’m thinking “THIS KID IS GOING TO ALIENATE HALF OF THE LOCAL PRACTITIONERS,” which is hardly fair on the next student who wants help.

It felt unprofessional, as well as a bit discourteous. Am I just being petty? I’m aware that students are often still developing their understanding of professional norms. I’m wondering if I should email the course tutor and suggest they remind students to follow up with an acknowledgement when they’ve asked for someone’s time, without naming the student involved. Would that be an overreaction?

Not at all. It would be doing their students a favor. I encourage you to do it — and be specific about what happened, that you’re happy to help but you spent 45 minutes answering numerous questions and heard not a peep back afterwards.

You could also email the student and say, “I haven’t heard back from you and want to make sure you received this. Assuming you did, I want to mention that courtesy is enormously important in this field (as in most others), and you will alienate people if you don’t acknowledge their time or assistance.”