#i will say my one complaint is when student try to pretend they’ve read the iliad and have read tsoa instead

[quidam-sirenae]

Ok I know I’ve talked about how I don’t like song of Achilles on here and previously I tried to come up with all these reasons why it’s bad and I’d like to apologize. I just don’t like her writing style is all

[uzuitengensfourthwife]

Fallen hard (Sanemi x femReader)

Warnings: none its pure fluff, and well my bad writing and grammar lol

Word count: 2410

Authors note: Okay I got to be honest with you guys. I wrote this back in September or October and posted it on Wattpad, I think (Yes I used to be on wattpad cries) But I really like REALLY wanted to share this on tumblr because its cute and sanemi deserves fluff. I really hope you enjoy it. Im already working on part 2 :)

Sanemi’s POV

,You're going this time right?'' Genya looked up at his brother, eyes full of hope that his brother would go to today's parents' evening. Especially now, that he had a new homeroom teacher. His brother, however, really couldn't care less, he maybe went once a year and that's usually the first and last time a teacher would see or talk to him. Still, he had to go today, Genya wanted him to go.

Yet his Brother's answer was bold and harsh. , And why would I?" Yeah, why would he? Genya started to think of a good reason why it was so important for him to attend today, but all he really could think of was his new teacher and that would certainly not be enough of a good reason for his brother to go. Well, he could at least try and give him this as a good reason to go, but in all honesty, he didn't want to get yelled at.

Sanemi however seemed to notice his brother's nervous behavior. , Just spit it out already.'' he demanded in a sharp tone, staring down at Genya. , W-well... we have a new teacher since last month... and don't you think you should show up? J-just to be polite...'' Genya stuttered, trying to avoid his brother's piercing gaze.

Sanemi just scoffed, trying to get away from this pathetic behavior of his brother. He would not join this damn parent's evening, not even if there was a new homeroom teacher. He already went once a year, wasn't this enough? Of course, the school disagreed with this, but goddamn it this was just a waste of time and that's exactly why he only went once a year. No more.

, Aniki, please... I'll do the dishes for the rest of the month!'' Genya tried again, he had to make his brother go and this was the last thing he could think of that might, just might work as bait on his brother.

Surprisingly, it worked. Sanemi then turned around, looking at his brother as he made another offer. , Two months, and I'll go." This was too good to be true. Genya smiled at his brother as he nodded, agreeing to his brother's offer. , Okay, sounds fair." - , Good. When do I have to be there?'' Sanemi asked. , 8 pm.''

Well and this, this was the reason why Sanemi was now waiting in front of the Classroom. Waiting for his brother's teacher to come out and finally talk to him. 

Sanemi sighed in annoyance as he thought about how convincing his little brother was. He should've charged him way more than just two goddamn months, he should've charged him at least a whole damn year. If not even more. Even so, he could not return time and now had to deal with this new teacher of Genya. And if he was honest, he did simply not care about this new teacher. He was already thinking of how great he'd feel when he could finally leave when the door of the classroom suddenly opened and a woman, most definitely younger than him, stood there smiling at him.

, Mr. Shinazugawa, please come in." her voice was soft like a feather, kind of soothing as she said his name, kindly inviting him to enter the classroom. He was shocked, he did not expect his brother to have such a teacher, all day he imagined her to be an old hag, but instead of an old hag, a wonderful young woman was standing in front of him.

, I'm Y/N L/N, nice to meet you." She held out her hand as she introduced herself and waited for him to take her hand for a handshake. And so he did. , Sanemi Shinazugawa, pleased to meet you as well." he coughed out, slowly shaking her hand. God, why was he so nervous all of the sudden? It was just his little brother's stupid teacher.

Yeah, what the actual fuck was he even nervous for?

, I'm glad you had the time to come, Genya was afraid that you might not be able to attend." - , Well.." Sanemi started as he looked in her (e/c) orbs, I guess I was able to take some time.''

Her smile only grew bigger, showing him to take a seat in front of the teacher's desk. , And for that, I am very grateful. There's a lot of stuff I want to talk about.'' She sat down in front of him, going through a pile of paper, probably looking for Genya's folder. , So... what did the idiot do?" Sanemi sighed out, already preparing himself to hear what Genya did wrong and what HE had to pay for. But instead of hearing any complaints, Y/N only chuckled, leaving Sanemi dumbfounded as he watched her with confusion. , Oh he didn't do anything bad. No, indeed he's a very good student! Everyone adores him!" But that, Sanemi didn't hear.

As she started to brabble how great of a student his brother was, all he could do was watch her. Examining her soft features. He was fascinated, nearly hypnotized by her beauty. For once, he was thankful that his brother was so convincing. Sanemi might be harsh, however, he was able to acknowledge a beautiful woman when he sees one. And this woman right in front of him, was out of his league, maybe even out of this world. If he had to describe her beauty, he wouldn't be able to find the perfect word. She was just too pretty, too beautiful, too stunning. Probably even an angel, sent from above. And her soothing voice just fit her beauty so well. God, she was perfect, and for the first time in a while, Sanemi had forgotten how to think properly.

,,-and that's why Genya has already gotten so many good reviews from teachers from all subjects. So- Mr. Shinazugawa?" He suddenly heard her calling for him, snapping out of his thoughts.

Oh god, he was so deep in his thoughts that he even had forgotten to listen. He knew the moment he saw her that he has fallen for her, but ....he didn't know he has fallen that hard., Ah... I'm sorry..." he whispered in an apologetic tone, rubbing the back of his neck. The teacher in front of him however just chuckled again waving her hand, as if she was telling him that there was no reason to apologize. , No worries! But well as I was saying, Genya is a really good student and has gotten many good reviews from all kinds of teachers. Not only that... but his grades are pretty good as well. Almost only A's!" She then handed him a pile of all the grades his little brother has gotten so far, he didn't care, but for the sake of her, he took a good look at all the reviews and grades she has handed him.

He hummed in response, once he looked through all of the stuff, giving her back the paper as he answered. , I have to admit, he isn't that bad." She shook her head and scoffed, taking the papers he was holding. , Please, not that bad? God, he is pretty amazing if you ask me!!" The young woman then leaned in closer, frowning as she looked Sanemi in the eyes. , You should be more proud of him. After all, he told me you are his role model. He looks up to you and thinks you are an amazing big brother." Sanemis eyes widened at the statement, as Y/N slowly leaned back, obviously waiting for him to say something.

He then let out a low laugh, once again not sure what he was supposed to say. , That's... surprising.." The young teacher then slowly shook her head. , Well..." she shortly after said looking back up. , Just remember that he adores you a lot... oh and with that being said... You should read through this. This is just one of Genya's amazing essays he has written." the smile was back on her face, easing the tension between the two adults.

She handed him over an essay his little brother wrote, he knew he was supposed to read through it, but oh god he was just so distracted by her.  So he just had to pretend he was reading, while in reality he still tried to get over the beauty of this woman in front of him. He wasn't usually the type to show affection towards anyone, nor fall for someone this easily. But she, for some odd reason, got him all riled up.

, So...?" the younger woman nagged, curious about what Sanemi was going to say. , I'm surprised that my brother is actually this good." She nodded, agreeing with him. , He indeed is very good."

Sanemi had to confess, he hated the way she was praising his brother, for basically everything he did. Of course, she was his teacher and was actually supposed to say these things and yet he felt like she shouldn't praise his brother, but him. Yes, she should praise him, however, she probably knew too little to even be able to praise him. Damn, they have only ever met. So where did this sudden jealousy come from? And why only after they have met? It would've made so much more sense if it happened months after they've met, but now? After literally 10 minutes. Stupid, he thought, that was just stupid.

No, he was stupid.

, Is that all?" Sanemi looked at the small figure in front of him, still, inside he was hoping she wouldn't let him go so easily, that she would keep him here a little longer.

, Hmm... let me think.." she went through her bag, that she had now on her lap, looking for things she still had to mention before she would let him go. , Ah yes.. here." she handed him a few brochures of Universities, smiling at him. , You should start talking with him about applying to a few Universities. Probably these in particular. They'd fit him really well.''

Sanemi grasped the brochures and went through them, just then he noticed those were high qualified Universities. Even the one he went to himself, was listed as well, which made him feel some kind of pride.

, I hope you have realized that those Universities are popular amongst qualified students." - , I know," he answered as he pointed at his former University. , After all, mine is listed as well." Her eyes widened in surprise as she took a glance at where his finger was pointing at. , Tohoku University?" She was amazed, he could see that right away. The way she just looked at the brochure and her tiny hand that was placed right in front of her mouth.

, Yes indeed, but I don't see why my little brother-" she shushed him without hesitation, suddenly standing up and looking him in the eye. , Mr. Shinazugawa, your brother is a smart and a very skilled person! You should encourage him to go to Tohaku University as well!" this time she wasn't saying it to just sound nice, no it was the other way around. She said it because she actually meant it. She was dead serious about this. , Why... just why do you think he is that great?"

She slowly sat down again, a small smile forming on her lips. , Because he's just as great as his bigger brother." Sanemi was shocked, no not shocked but rather.. surprised, yet, she didn't hesitate to add more to this statement of hers. , Now that I've met you, I can totally see the resemblance. He's just like you and I totally see why he has chosen you as his role model."

He was once again astonished. , Has- has he said that?'' She nods, as she watched him. , Yes he did. He has mentioned you a few times. Fact is, he looks up to you, so I've guessed you must be an amazing brother.''

Part of him was embarrassed and wanted to disappear right away, the other part however was full of pride, thanking his brother for talking so highly about him in front of his teacher. The teacher that left him speechless.

So, sanemi smiled a little, looking away und scratching his neck as he did so. , Guess my brother wants to be a Mathematics major as well, huh.'' She hummed in response as she put away his little brother's folder. , Well... I guess we have talked about everything. Is there anything you want to add, or mention?''  Sanemi started to search for something, but obviously, there was nothing he could think about. She had probably mentioned everything she wanted to talk about and he, well he didn't want to attend the parent's evening, to begin with. So, he sighed and shook his head.

There was nothing, and with that disappointment came. He didn't want to go yet, but he couldn't just possibly stay here and talk to her any longer, let alone ask her out. That would probably seem to be very rude. But little did he know, that she just felt the same.

The sudden silence that lingered between him and her, made both of them nervous and uncomfortable.

, Then... I guess there is no reason for me to hold you back any longer.'' she was the first one to break the silence, and oh god he most definitely didn't want to hear these words. And yet, he played it off cool, getting up and marching towards the door. But before he could even reach the door, she suddenly spoke again, stuttering at the beginning. , M-Mr. Shinazugawa?''

Sanemi turned around, glancing at her. He then realized that she seemed... somewhat nervous. But why?

, I know... this is probably inappropriate to ask... but... would you mind joining me for coffee once..?'' Without even thinking, he answered, I would love to.'' and with that, he smiled at her as he exited the room and leaving the young woman perplexed.

Strolling through the building, he realized that there was a stupid little smile plastered across his face. Oh these feelings, so exotic and wild. He was not used to them, but somewhat liked the thrilling feeling.

Falling for someone wasn't even that bad.

[magicalforcesau]

Letters (part 2)

As Obi-Wan and Satine continue their written correspondence in the back half of their Hogwarts career, their bond strengthens to the point where it might not strictly be platonic.

ao3 link

Fifth Year Summer

Dear Ben,

I GOT MY MENTORSHIP REQUEST APPROVED! I’m going to be a peer mentor this upcoming year! Oh, I know this is going to be another responsibility when we’re already saddling quite a bit with OWLS and our duties as prefects. While it was your initial idea to join, I have no regrets. If I’m to influence the minds of thousands from the Ministry, it will do me good to have practice on a smaller and more impressionable scale. Besides, far too many first years are led astray in my opinion. Having firm and caring guidance will be most beneficial.

I hope you can write to me with the same news, even if I still believe you are pushing yourself far too hard. Just please consider your own mental health for this upcoming term. You’re already wound tighter than anyone I know. I would truly not like to partake in the bets that Fives and Echo make behind your back about when your head will explode. I believe either myself or Cody would win. We know you best.

Speaking of being wound tight, I have been dedicating my summer to the practice of enchanting muggle objects as per our homework assignments. Turns out, it truly is not that difficult. I’ve been careful not to alter anything that would come into contact with other muggles, but I look forward to showing you the results of some of my recreations. Between you and me, I’ve been constructing some that were not on the instructed list.

You’re not technically a prefect yet, Obi-Wan Kenobi, so don’t even think about making a wise remark about how you could see me in trouble.

Yours Truly,

Satine

Dear Satine,

I, too, just received confirmation that I’m to mentor a first year this upcoming school year! Regardless of your speculation and wariness, I stand by my decision. We will be kept busy, but idle minds mean time wasted. If you hadn’t agreed on principle, I don’t believe you would have signed up right behind me. As for my extracurricular activities, pretending as though I am not stressed in the slightest about the prospect of the coming year is futile, but I hope to work through it and to become a better student as a result of it. My father has relented on training by Quidditch form. There are bigger things to worry about such as OWLS, which is why I’m to be locked in all summer. No complaints there- I’d much rather read.

Speaking of reading, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the books you snuck into my trunk. Yes, I found them and they were quite a welcome surprise. A bit of relaxing education is just what the doctor ordered. Not literally, because I loathe visiting my family’s practitioner. He takes the term “witch doctor” to new levels and I will leave it at that.

You’ve always been far better at charming objects than I ever have. To be fair, I still don’t have a full understanding of what certain muggle objects actually do, but I’ve got most of the list marked off by this point. While I promise not to report you for deliberate rule breaking, I do admire your gumption. I hope you’ll one day let me see what you’ve crafted. You know I adore learning the novelties of the muggle world. I believe last we spoke, you were telling me about ‘computers’.

As always, I’d love to know more. You have a manner of speaking that simply can’t go unnoticed, at least not to me.

Best,

Obi-Wan

Fifth Year- Winter

Dear Satine,

I apologize if this owl reaches you at an indecent hour. I know how you are about your beauty sleep. It’s been strange being back home, even if for a couple of weeks. It’s only made me realize just how unreal this year has been in terms of excitement and mystery. Though I do not blame the boy for any of it, I won’t lie that it was a much quieter school without Anakin Skywalker present. I wouldn’t change any of it, of course. I believe I am making a difference in working with him. He has a bright mind, if he chooses to use it.

I still can’t get the vision of him foaming at the mouth on the floor out of my head. There’s no doubt that someone has it in for him. I can only imagine who. While eccentric, Anakin is still just a child. He’s harmless.

At risk of drastically changing the subject- my true reason for writing was to thank you again for the watch. My parents have ingrained in me the importance of writing thank you notes regardless of the nature of the gift. However, this might be the first time the sentiment has felt important in action. It may sound ungrateful, but a boy can only receive so many tie clips before he starts to sound a bit robotic in his delivery.

However, please note that every word I say, I mean through my very bones. I hope you didn’t take my silence at receiving it to be anything less than breathlessness. You always keep me guessing, Satine Kryze, and I would have you no different. I am still in awe every time I catch a gander at my wrist.

You did a marvelous job in transfixing and refurbishing it. Seriously, it is of no wonder that Charms comes easier to you than it does to me. Had I not known otherwise; I would have assumed this watch was always crafted with the intention of being magical. Even if it were just a standard watch, it would still have meant more to me than anything I’ve received simply because it came from you. My friend. I’m not sure I deserve it.

I suppose I’ve no excuse for fear of being late any longer, now do I?

It’s never coming off!

Obi-Wan

Dear Ben,

I’m no longer, by any means, insinuating that the boy is trouble. Or more accurately, I don’t believe he’s cognizant of these omens. What concerns me, is Qui-Gon seems to believe that a dark time is upon us. He won’t share his suspicions outright, but I can tell just by how he talks to Anakin with a certain level of wonder and curiosity. Surely, you see it too.

Even still, I say, when school starts up, we try and start our own investigation- off the books and away from Anakin, of course. We needn’t worry him more than he already is. Perhaps while Gryffindor has the field for Quidditch practice we can better research. There’s been too many strange occurrences this year for it to all be coincidental. I’d argue this is the tipping point.

We can further discuss a game plan back at school, but at risk of hurting feelings and potentially endangering lives, we should keep this between us.

I am, however, glad to hear you enjoyed the watch ♥

Yours,

Satine

Sixth Year- Summer

Dear Satine,

I received my OWLS results today as I’m sure you did the same. I wanted you to hear from me, personally, that I am, in fact, alive and well despite what I received as scores. I’m surprised at how alive and how well, quite actually.

For some context- I received all O’s in everything… With the exception of Arithmancy- of which I got an E. I’m not positive where exactly I went wrong in studying for it. I don’t recall the exam being particularly difficult. It’s never been a prized subject of mine as you well know, but I’ve always delivered nothing less than near-perfect marks.

My parents took the news surprisingly well. As opposed to blaming me for slacking off or being distracted by frivolous things such as friends… They were in support of me. In fact, they’re positive that the school is deliberately discriminating against me. I think it might have to do with the recent revelation regarding Anakin being the chosen one. They’ve been much kinder to me and the choices I’ve made as a result of my association with him. Where they believed I was wasting my time, I apparently “saw” what they couldn’t- even if my decision to mentor Anakin had absolutely nothing to do with the matter.

I still have not yet mentioned my pursuit of becoming an Auror. You have to space this kind of news out when you can. They’ve supported me on this, but I’m not sure they’d take that in stride. My parents have been itching to have me become a lawyer or a politician for as long as I can remember.

How were your scores? I’m sure you did brilliantly. I should know, I studied alongside you during all of this madness. I’m eager to properly celebrate with you when we next meet. My mother asked me where I’d gotten the watch the other day and I exclaimed that the brightest witch of my age crafted it for me personally… She assumed it was Ventress, but you’ve always thrived in the chaos of being underestimated, now haven’t you? I will never make that mistake.

Truly,

Ben

Dear Ben,

Don’t you ever scare me with such a dramatic introduction ever again! I nearly had a heart attack, assuming you’d gone and failed your OWLS in a fit of insanity. Given how unusual our fifth year was, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if it had another anomaly to toss our way. I thought I was going to have to portkey to you and shake the living daylights out of you for being so foolish.

You landed on your feet, as you always do and seem to make it look incredibly easy to those that do not know any better. We’re matching, actually, except my E was in DADA- likely during the practical session when I wouldn’t cast that Sectumsempra spell. To have us perform such an act on a defenseless animal is cruel (even if it was a spider), particularly in the name of ‘testing’. If they must endorse the epidemic of violence, can they not simply provide test dummies?

I’m actually surprised I scored that high, since the instructor looked at me like I had ten heads. I spoke to Cody today. He passed, despite how hard he doubted himself. We both knew that he would do fine, of course.

Ventress has been around a lot more frequently, hasn’t she? I know that she’s been quite displaced ever since Dooku’s outing. She’s quite smug and entitled for someone who hardly does anything aside from being an errand girl to a Sith terror. I’m sure she’ll be continuing her tricks this year. To think your family thinks you could be as shrewd and awful as her.

How is Anakin this summer? I contemplated sending him an owl just to see how he was processing the more recent revelations, but it would most likely sound more from the heart if it came from you. You were truly excellent with him this year, if I hadn’t already mentioned it. I know I convinced you to break away from the status quo and lean into your desires to become an auror, but you’ve got a real knack for teaching and seeing the best in people. It’s truly one of your best traits. That, and the fact that regardless how much of a mess you are, you always manage to look pristine from head to toe.

Actually, that last bit is borderline infuriating. I hope to see you before the summer lets out. I understand why that might be difficult, but it seems with your parents’ investment in Anakin, you might have a valid reason to be away from the homestead more often. If you understand what I’m saying.

Best,

Satine

Sixth Year- Winter

{A draft from the desk of Obi-Wan Kenobi}

[Boldened text in parenthesis] = out loud thoughts

Dear Satine,

How do I say this without sounding like a damn fool? You kissed me!

It’s been brought to my attention by literally everyone that we have a certain noticeable chemistry. [Why am I saying what everyone else thinks when I should be saying what I think?] Usually, when we are together, we argue. A lot. Sometimes, I’m surprised we haven’t strangled each other yet by how heated some of our debates become. You have this ability to get under my skin in a way that no one else possesses. Truthfully, I love [Too strong! Don’t go scaring her off now] truly appreciate that about you.

But there are times when I get this feeling… And it’s come on more and more the longer I know you… Like we could get beyond the possible strangulation phase and onto something… Better. [What is wrong with me?] You challenge me and I think sometimes I’m able to challenge you as well. I think having people in your life that push you to be the best you can be is a sign of true companionship friendship. You’ve become a constant in my life that I wouldn’t shake even if I could. Looking back, it’s only natural for me to grow feelings for you.

Where I tried to convince myself those feelings were simply an intense comradery, I cannot deny that I do not notice how the light casts on Cody’s hair or linger on him as he walks away [Blast that makes me sound like a pervert] wonder what his hand would feel like in mine. My heart doesn’t quicken if Cody touches my shoulder or laughs at one of my jokes. Cody doesn’t sit incredibly close to me at the dining hall, but if he did, I would be more confused than completely entranced. Cody is my other best friend, but my entire day is not made or broken by seeing him smile.

I wouldn’t be jealous if the seventh year boys decided to notice that Cody was beautiful.

And you are disarmingly beautiful, but I’ve always known that, even if I try to ignore it.

You can imagine how terrifying all of this is to realize at the remarkable hour of 3 in the morning- a mere 3 hours after you decided to kiss me under the mistletoe. How am I supposed to think of anything else now or ever again? Which leads me to think [Don’t be presumptuous] wonder… If you share these feelings. And if you do, we’ve got quite a predicament there. Because if I could blissfully convinced myself that we could never be, I’d be able to bury that deep within me, but even the idea of hope that you could see me in that light… I fear that would be all too tempting. The evidence says that you might. You’ve always been a better investigator than myself, but I can’t shake this feeling that we have these spellbound moments where everything slows down. And it’s just you and me. During those moments, everything is alright.

Usually, when I’m troubled as I am now, I do not hesitate to reach out to you. You’re my co-conspirator, my fellow prefect, my best friend. However, given the situation, that’s not very easy to do. Even if Qui-Gon speaks of it like it is . I wish it were, because now all I can imagine is the mark you’ve left with your kiss. It’s the same sort of feeling I get every time I touch the face of the watch you gifted me last year.

Should I ever muster up the courage to send this letter to you, which I definitely shouldn’t, because you deserve the sort of man that would bare his heart in person, please understand that while I’ve dedicated my life to studying magical text, I’m not nearly as well-versed in the subject of love. Since I’m so certain you’ll never read this, there’s no point in denying that it’s anything less than love.

Love,

Ben

Seventh Year- Summer

Dear Ben,

I wanted to ensure that you were on the road of being okay, all things considering. I tried to wait to give you space, but I couldn’t make it more than a week without knowing you weren’t going mad locked up in that house of yours. I’m not even positive you’ll write me back, which is infuriating, but understanding since Qui-Gon’s passing is not one to be taken lightly by anyone, but especially you. I wish I could alleviate the pain you must be feeling in any way.

I’m relieved just a little bit, knowing that Anakin is in your care. It was very surprising of your parents to offer him refuge, as he’s currently got no one else to possibly lean on. Hopefully the two of you can find some solace in each other during these difficult times. I care for both of you very much and my heart aches knowing I am virtually helpless in making this any better. I know you are likely placing an immense amount of pressure on yourself to distract you from addressing your own mentor’s death, but while your parents might encourage this behavior, it’s not a true way of coping. You need to let someone in.

Stay safe. Do not hesitate to reach out (no matter how cliché that sounds). Even if you talk to Cody instead, that’s fine. Just… Don’t lock yourself in that head of yours and go rogue. I’d miss you far too much.

With Love,

Satine

Dear Satine,

I’m not okay, but I’ll have to be soon. Anakin is safe and on the same boat. I’ll write later with a real reply. I’m not quite in the spirit right now. I just wanted you to know that I haven’t gone completely mad in absence.

~Obi-Wan

Dear Satine,

I’m sorry to be writing to you so late in “true” reply. I’ve been quite busy with Anakin this summer. It has been helpful having someone else around. While a gray cloud still seems to follow him around, I’d say he’s faring better than expected. It’s alarming how resilient the boy is, but also incredibly depressing that it needs to be that way. We’ve discussed the matter of Qui-Gon’s death a couple of times. While you won’t like this, I think there is some closure to knowing that Anakin’s attacker, who became Qui-Gon’s murderer, is dead.

Meanwhile, I must confess that it still haunts me every night. I haven’t said anything to Anakin, because like you rightfully assumed, I’m not about to unload that burden onto him. He feels it’s his fault just as much as I do. We’ve taken to playing Quidditch outside. My family owns several acres of land, so we are able to get out of earshot every now and then. Anakin actually gets on quite nicely with my parents, which is a massive relief. Getting back to school for our final year will be a good way to get back into routine. On the other hand, I’m dreading trying to attempt adjusting to a school without Qui-Gon.

I suppose studying my brains out for the NEWTS alongside you will provide for ample distraction. You, alone, are admittedly very distracting. I am referring to your character of course. A general statement.

There’s always Quidditch, unfortunately, which isn’t nearly as fun and carefree as playing with Anakin in the yard. Despite how massively competitive he is? He’s just turned 13 and he’s loads better than me already. I still hate the flying aspect.

I’m writing you, of course, because we just got notified that I’m to be the Head Boy to your Head Girl. This incredibly tragic time has truly made me appreciate the people I have in my life. You are, without a doubt, shining at the top of that metaphorical list in bold and underlined print. I wouldn’t be Head Boy had it not been for you.

A lot has changed thus far, Satine, and I’m growing tired of being afraid. Life is too short and it’s always going to throw negatives at us- some that are absolutely debilitating. However, there is always the light, which has made me think that perhaps this year, some changes don’t have to be bad. There are many things I’d like to discuss with you, in person. Because this sort of conversation should be the kind that happens face-to-face.

Would you like to meet before school?

Truly Yours,

Ben

[whyralltheusernamestaken]

Favourites

Some of my favourite posts :

.

Bakugou Katsuki :

"She’s my wife” - pro hero au where bakugou forgets his lunch and you decide to deliver it to him at his agency. but when you’re there, the new receptionist calls you a bitch. 

Number neighbour - in which Bakugou Katsuki is a grumpy and sarcastic college student just trying to get his degree and you are his bubbly number neighbor who is determined to become his new “bestie.”

Werewolf saved by reader (part 2) - Baku werewolf gets saved by reader from a cruel sorcerer who kept him imprisoned as an attack dog to guard his tower.

Memelord reader hc - a memelord reader and Bakugou who pretends not to understand and catches her off guard and makes her do a snort laugh

Take you out - you ask bakugou out on a picnic date to the park, but he thinks you’re challenging him to a fight. 

The language of flowers - you decide to make the most of your nature quirk by giving your crush, bakugou, endless bouquets of flowers. 

The appreciation post - you tag bakugou in an appreciation post while he’s out in public and he gets embarrassed in the best way possible.

Angle with a shot gun (part 2) (part 3) - While Bakugou is on medical leave due to a recent villain attack, Kirishima asks him for a favour and it leads to more than Bakugou asked for.

Soulmate au - a story of two lovers bound together by the universe but brought together by chance on one frigid, fateful day. 

Crush on oblivious florist - bakugo crushing over a florist who is a little too oblivious?

Dating Denki’s sister - the reader is spending a bit too much time with kaminari, and bakugou gets all jealous and angry and then he finds out they're siblings. 

Dating Present Mic’s niece - bakugo with a s/o who is president mic's niece and has a similar voice/sound related quirk

Useless - reader who feels like a burden towards everyone and they can’t really speak up about it so the become more withdrawn

Photoshoot - a pro hero but he's stuck having to do a photoshoot so he brings his s/o who ends up helping like a staff 

Lolita - headcannons for Bakugou with a s/o who loves Lolita fashion

Aftermath - soulmate au, when you cry, so does your soulmate

S/O scared of bug - she has no problem facing down villains something like a cockroach and she goes ballistic?

Dating Aizawa’s niece - them meeting him as reader’s uncle for the first time

Player vs Player - She became his gaming go-to. Even outside of the one they’d met on. Shitty no-brainer games that were merely conversation starters and the rest became commentary of a different kind

‘Falling for him was the easiest’ (part 2) - in which bakugo overhears the girls talking about your guys’ relationship and he hears reader say that “falling for him was the easiest thing” she has done

Crimson Petals - Hanahaki au, there were three things you were absolutely certain of: 1. You were head over heels in love with Bakugou Katsuki, 2. He would rather jump off a skyscraper than love you back 3. You were dying because of your unrequited feelings

The sky and the sea - fantasy au where the dragon king and a mermaid fall in love.

Just for you - valentines days 

Todoroki Shouto :

His jacket - you acquire his jacket and everyone makes a big deal out of it.

Can you keep a secret? - you and shouto are secretly dating and during a study session in todoroki’s room, kaminari finds your lacy thong under shouto’s desk and try to figure out whose it is.

Jealousy for dummies - jealous of all the time shouto has been spending with yaoyorozu, you hatch up a plan with bakugou to give him a taste of his own medicine.

She did what? - he met his soulmate as she fell out of a trash shoot while covering her baby ferret friend when he came across a burning building

Into your arms - you’re prone to tripping and Todoroki is prone to being there to catch you. Or, in which you’re a bit of a klutz and, for a reason he can’t explain, Todoroki wants to make sure you never get hurt

Dating Aizawa’s niece - them meeting him as reader’s uncle for the first time

Rude - you don’t approve of the arranged marriage, and try to be as rude as possible

Seven days - Todoroki’s been ignoring you but you can’t for the life of you figure out why. Was it something you did? Or is it more complicated than that?

Believe in me - all you want is for your blockhead boyfriend to believe in you the same way he believes in Yaoyorozu Momo.

Jealous S/O headcannons - S/O who's jealous of Momo who is actually kinda interested in pursuing him regardless of his S/O

Another world - He goes into an alternate universe 

‘’Emotions’’  - where soulmates can feel each other’s emotions 

Midoriya Izuku :

Someone entirely new - Y/N is tired of constantly holding themselves back for the sake of someone who barely gives anything in return. When their boyfriend takes things too far, they decide they’ve had enough. 

Kirishima Eijirou :

Soulmate au - fluff

Hanata Sero :

Noise complaint - You were having the worst birthday of your life, and your noisy new neighbor was making it even harder. Though, when you go knocking on his door to tell him to shut the hell up, you really didn’t expect him to be so nice about it.

Shinso Hitoshi : 

You suck at gaming - You’re a YouTuber known for your chaotic yet wholesome content and Shinsou is a gamer who keeps getting accused of being an eboy. One day you upload a video trying your hand at gaming and Shinsou tweets out about how much you suck.

Mirio Togata :

S/O scared of bug - she has no problem facing down villains something like a cockroach and she goes ballistic?

Secret admirer - secret admirer who happens to be their crush who likes to bake

Amajiki Tamaki :

S/O scared of bug - she has no problem facing down villains something like a cockroach and she goes ballistic?

Secret admirer - secret admirer who happens to be their crush who likes to bake

Little bitch - reader chasing after their cat named little bitch but Tamaki thinks she’s shouting at him 

Aizawa Shouta :

I never said we were friends - smau 

Shigaraki Tomura :

Jealous S/O headcannons - S/O who's jealous of Momo who is actually kinda interested in pursuing him regardless of his S/O

Chisaki Kai : 

Comedian S/O headcannons - Overhaul x comedian!quirkless!reader

Melancholic Bliss - you taking care of Overhaul he loses his arms

Hawks : 

Flirting with his favourite citizen - headcannons 

Text au's:

Shirokigo’s text series - Aizawa's daughter, 1a and her crush

Number neighbour - already on the list, under Bakugou

Someone entirely new - already on the list, under Midoriya

You suck at gaming - already on the list, under Shinsho

Headcannons : 

Wrong person - When you accidentally tell them you’re pregnant.

What if au’s :

Fuyumi is a pro hero - where Todoroki Fuyumi goes behind her father’s back and becomes a qualified pro hero 

Au’s that are my guilty pleasure : 

Soulmate au - I LOVE LOVE LOVE THESE SO MUCH

Texting - I love these so much, whether it’s a groupchat or ‘anon’ texting their crush, LOVE them

Secret relationship - I like the oneshots where they get found out lol

Series to keep up to date with :

Interning with Ground Zero (latest part read here)

Obey me :

Tiktok/vine fuck up - when automated responses have put you into hot water a couple of times

A dark little secret - MC dies and ends up in the celestial realm, however she eventually manages to fall to end up with the brothers

Duck - their reactions when you turn into a duck 

Accident - their reactions when MC accidentally sends a semi nude

Gospel - when MC gets upset with Lucifer they get as close as possible to him at all times and sing gospel music to show their displeasure.

Random texts 

Assassin mc 

[vmheadquarters]

Welcome to… 

We're going to play a game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors will take turns telling this story. Each writer will craft a chapter (with no prior planning) and then "toss" the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected! Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. — Chapter One of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @susanmichelin​ (a/k/a CMackenzie). 

And stay tuned next week for Ch.2 from @nearfantastica​ - tag, you’re it! -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER ONE by CMackenzie

“Welcome aboard!” The captain of the luxury trawler, ominously named Irish Wake, greeted them on the dock with individual thermoses of hot cocoa, and dire predictions about the weather. “There’s a snow squall coming so we best be on our way– you’re my last two passengers for the night.”

Veronica managed to contain her eye roll- barely. This was going to be a very long weekend if all she had to look forward to were predictable ‘it was a dark and stormy night’ cliches. How Wallace had convinced her to make this trip North was still unclear. “Why are we doing this again?”

“Because I’m tired of watching you mope.” Wallace, following the captain’s orders, headed below deck to the saloon. It was paneled in teak and outfitted with leather banquettes and an actual, working fireplace. Wallace dropped onto the bench, leaving the seat closest to the fire for Veronica, and tugged off his gloves.

“I’ve only been home for THREE days,” Veronica said, reluctantly joining him on the sofa. She loosened her jacket and stared morosely through the windows at the gray water.

“Exactly. Three days of unwashed you walking around in a robe, wearing a sad face, and acting more pathetic than Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree. I will not spend the rest of winter break listening to you sing Unbreak My Heart.”

“As if.” She leveled Wallace with a hard look. “And for the record, my heart’s NOT broken.”

“Sure, V.” Unfazed, he pulled out the multi-page invitation for this party and started reading. “The island has its own pond for ice skating, and there are--”

“Hello? Grew up in Southern California, I don’t skate.”

“You don’t surf either, so what’s your point?” He waved the expensive vellum invite at her. “They have snowmobiles, a heated pool, an extensive library, a wine cellar--”

“What no conservatory and billiard room?”

“Plus,” he continued, undeterred. “There’s a murder mystery for you to solve. You can show off your detective prowess, while I play your devastatingly handsome side--”

“Devastatingly handsome?”

“The Watson to your Holmes.”

“This is more Christie than Doyle-- And Then There Were None ring any bells? Do you even know who owns this mansion?” Her best friend was being VERY cagey about this entire weekend. “And why were we invited?”

“WE weren’t invited, I was, and you’re my plus-one.”

“So why were YOU invited? Since when do you have rich friends who can throw Gatsby-like part—” Veronica’s eyes widened as realization dawned. “NO, absolutely not, I’m not going to be trapped on an island with HIM.”

“Totally over him, my ass,” Wallace muttered, shaking his head. “You know Logan Echolls isn’t the only rich guy in the world, right?”

Veronica humphed. She could count on one hand—on one FINGER—the amount of wealthy people Wallace knew well enough he’d consider traveling to this desolate place, and risk incurring Veronica’s wrath. 

There was NO WAY she was staying. She rebuttoned her jacket, and folded her arms across her chest. As soon as they docked, she’d make the captain return her to the mainland. If Logan…  Veronica frowned. “Let me see that invitation.”

“I thought you weren’t interested?”

“I’m not.” But her curiosity was getting the better of her. There was just no way Logan Echolls would throw a lame THEME party. 

She held out her hand, and Wallace hesitated, staring at the card like he was trying to come up with a good reason to say no; but when none materialized, he relented, and passed it to her. 

This time Veronica didn’t hold back the eye roll. The first line read: ‘Mistress X’ (Seriously? What is she, a porn star?) ‘cordially invites you to a mysterious good time.’ As far as Veronica could tell, the only ‘mystery’ was the identity of their hostess (and why she loved stale cliches). And maybe-- “Who else will be there?”

Wallace shrugged. “It’s a party, Veronica. Did you forget how those work? We eat, drink, and have fun- the only mystery for you to solve is a fake one.”

Sorry, BFF, but you’re wrong-- there was NO mystery solving in her future, fake or otherwise. Even if her curiosity was demanding to be satisfied, she would NOT be staying on this island, which is exactly what she told the captain after he docked the boat, and she scrambled topside.

“We need to go back to the mainland.”

The man continued to wind the dock line around a cleat in a tight, figure-eight pattern, ignoring her demand. Or maybe he just didn’t hear it? Frigid January air howled around them and buffeted the sides of the boat, making it thump against the wood pilings. Veronica tried again, a little louder. “You have to take me back to shore.”

“Sorry miss, no can do,” he said, shaking his head. “They’ve upgraded the storm to include white-out conditions and at least a foot of heavy snow.” He stopped adjusting the boat fenders long enough to squint uphill at the imposing limestone mansion. “I just hope you kids will be safe up there all alone.”

Veronica followed his gaze. Copper-trimmed windows glowed from inside, and several chimneys dotted the black slate roof, all of them puffing billows of gray smoke into the night sky. It was both inviting and foreboding. She shook off the ridiculous thought, stomping the cold from her feet and shoving gloved hands into her parka. “Aren’t you returning to Rollins?”

“‘fraid not; I’m gonna have to hunker down in the caretaker’s cottage till the storm passes. ”  The captain glanced at Wallace who was still standing on the boat, luggage at his feet. “Let me help you with those bags, son.”

“We good, V?”

“It’s not like I have a choice.” Too bad she hadn’t paid more attention to Duncan when he’d tried to teach her how to sail, then she could take the—skiff? Scow? Sloop?—berthed next to Irish Wake, and make her own way home. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Without waiting, she left him to carry both duffels, and marched toward the house. Wallace stopped her at the front door. “Uh, Veronica, before we go in, you should know there’s a story to follow.”

“Say what now? A story?”

“Yeah, for the mystery. It’s called Murder at the High School Reunion.” He dropped the bags, and withdrew a blood-red envelope from his coat pocket. “You’re supposed to be Enid Curtis,” he added, handing her the sealed letter.

Veronica groaned. As if this wasn’t bad enough, now she had to be called Enid AND attend a pretend reunion. She ripped open the character summary. 

Enid Curtis was the high school outcast. She couldn’t wait for senior year to be over so she could escape her hometown. Immediately after graduating, she fled to New York and became a successful lawyer, but she never got over her one true love, Mason. Enid is attending this weekend in the hopes of rekindling their relationship, but a dark secret—

“You are so going to owe me for doing this,” Veronica said, skimming the rest of the contents to confirm she wasn’t the killer. “I’m thinking YOU will be the one driving to Stanford every single weekend from now until the time I graduate.” 

“Haven’t I been doing that?” 

“Yes, but now you’ll do it without complaint.” She shoved the red card into her messenger bag. Depending on how many guests and bedrooms, she could have this solved in under an hour. All she needed was to search everyone’s things to read their dossiers. “So which high-school stereotype are you? Wait, let me guess-- class president? Teacher’s pet? No, no, I’ve got it, you’re the new transfer student!”

“You disappoint me,” Wallace said with a sad head shake. “Obviously, I’m the lovable jock- Brady Huddle.”

“Bad puns too? Could this weekend get any worse?” She entered the house and got her answer-- yes, it could. In fact, the party completely bypassed ‘worse’ and went straight to intolerable as she crossed the threshold into the living room. Dick Casablancas was behind the bar (natch), pouring a liberal amount of vodka in a collins glass. A probably-tipsy Gia, who was draped over Luke Haldeman, giggled at Dick, and Veronica’s eye twitched. Hell. I’m in hell.

She scanned the rest of the room, searching faces. Very familiar faces. 

Cole was lounging on a leather Chesterfield the color of old parchment, his arms spread across its back like he was trying to redeem the lost souls of Rio, and blathering on about the Ivy Club at Princeton. Listening to him with rapt attention was Kimmy, who looked eerily like a dead Meg. Obviously she was still going to Fantastic Sam’s with Meg’s picture (and maybe even a trip, or ten, to Dr. Griffith’s office).

Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the far wall and in front of them stood Carrie Bishop, sipping a white frothy confection from a punch cup.  Her bored expression was reflected in the darkened panes as she absently nodded at Susan Knight.

“Who’s the girl about to be swallowed by the fireplace?” The carved-limestone monster was massive. Its mantle towered over the unknown brunette’s head and the firebox was tall enough for a man to stand inside.  

“That’s Alexis Link,” Wallace said, wearing the same moony expression from senior year when he pined after the perky cheerleader.  His sudden interest in this party now made sense. 

“Don’t even think about leav—” The warning was too late. Wallace was already on the move. She sighed. If the weather wasn’t clear by tomorrow morning, she was going to need a new escape plan.  

Someone playfully bumped her elbow, and a frisson of excitement shot down her spine. Please let it be, Logan. Her eyes flew to the window to see the person behind her, and she had to fight to control her disappointment when she identified Casey Gant.

“Welcome to Whispering Rock, Veronica.” He jutted his chin toward the non-existent view. “It’s not much to look at right now, but during the day it’s pretty impressive-- a pond, trees, mountains.”

“Is this your house?”

“God no, it’s way too rural for my parents. I think my mother might literally die if she was this far away from civilization… and a Starbucks.” He smiled. “I got here early and went skating with Susan.”

Veronica nodded, then schooled her features into a mask of disinterest. “So is this everybody?”

“You and…”—not remembering Wallace’s name, he skipped right over it—“...were the last to arrive.”

“Oh.” Any interest she may have had completely evaporated. What was the point without Logan? Could she swim back to shore? Throw herself into the freezing water and hope for the sweet escape of death by exposure? “Guess I’ll go find my room.”

“Do you want me to get one of the maids to bring your stuff up?” Casey glanced at the lone duffel at her feet. “Or did the butler already take your bags?”

“Veronica travels light.”

Logan. She whirled around to face him. It had been over seven months since she’d seen him last (seven months, nine days, and five hours, give or take) and she deserved a little ogling time. She drank in the visual. His hair was shorter, his shoulders a little broader, and his arms… woof. 

Her head tilted. “Hey.”

His smile was slow. “Hey.”

Her fingers itched to touch him. To reassure herself he was actually here. Missing him these past months at Stanford had been a physical thing. Before she did something foolish, she tore her eyes away, and leaned down to grab her bag. Straightening, she blurted, “Are you Mason?”

“Echolls. Logan Echolls.” He pulled a mock-sad face. “Have you forgotten me already?”

As if. She was never going to forget him. Or get over him. Or move past him. She knew this. Even if she’d never tell him. “I meant your character.”

“Shouldn’t you know? I mean I am your great love.” 

“True love.” She frowned. “And Mason is Enid’s true love.”

“Tomato, to-mah-to.... But I am surprised you had to ask. Haven’t you already searched everyone’s rooms, or were you going to do that next?”

She flushed at how quickly he’d guessed her strategy. Was there such a thing as knowing someone too well? “Says the original snoop.”

“Takes one to know one.” His hand closed over hers and he took hold of her bag. “I’ll show you to your room-- it’s right next to mine-- and I can tell you about the other players.”

Logan took a step toward the stairs and the lights went out. A scream pierced the sudden silence. Veronica identified the direction of the ear-splitting sound (near the windows) and her head swiveled in that direction. It was too dark to identify the person (her guess was Susan), but the cause of her fright was plain to see. 

With the darkness inside the house equal to the night sky, the view through the windows had changed. Moonlight and a battery-powered lantern illuminated the pond. A body lay in the center of the ice, still and unmoving.  

“The game is afoot,” Logan whispered near her ear.

“Who’s the dead dude?” Dick asked, as he passed in front of the dim-glow of the dying fire to move closer to the windows. “We’re all in here.”

“Maybe it’s one of the staff?” The suggestion came from the vicinity of the bar; Veronica guessed the speaker as Gia. 

“That’s lame.”

Veronica was forced to agree with Dick. It was lame. Why bother to set up all the backstories and character histories if you weren’t going to use them for the plot? She unsnapped the front pocket of her messenger bag and withdrew two LED flashlights. After clicking on hers, she passed the other to Logan.  “Guess we’d better go take a look.”

A smile flirted across his lips as he took the Maglite and tipped his head towards the door. “Lead the way.”

Wind whipped through the entrance, tearing the knob from Veronica’s grip and pushing the door wide. Logan caught it mid-swing before it hit the wall and held it for her. Obviously the captain’s weather report wasn’t just part of the story. Heavy snow was beginning to fall and a thin shroud of white already covered the ground. 

Veronica slowed her pace, taking tiny steps across the slick flagstone to the lawn. Icy flakes pelted her face, stinging her cheeks and making her eyes tear. A wide path was cut through the center of the grass leading directly to the water’s edge. 

They trudged along. Each slippery step treacherous as the snow continued to build. Veronica kept her eyes focused ahead. The body on the pond had yet to move. Its stillness rang warning bells in her brain. It was too cold out here for a partygoer, or even an actor, to remain that motionless. 

She stopped on the berm and glanced over her shoulder. Everyone had grabbed coats to follow her and Logan outside. All of them still believed this was a game. “I think you need to stay here,” she shouted over the wind. “And I’ll go—”

“Steal all the clues?” Cole scoffed. “We should all go examine the body.” He moved around her and took a step onto the ice.

Logan angled the light to see Veronica’s face and frowned. His gaze slid toward the body. “Let me go first,” he said, brandishing the flashlight in Cole’s direction. “No sense for us to be wandering around in the dark.” He enveloped Veronica’s hand in his. “Ready?”

Together they started across the frozen pond, inching closer to the body.  It was bathed in light from a camping lantern. The green lamp was on its side in a puddle of red. 

Blood. 

Veronica tightened her grip on Logan’s fingers when she saw the face of the corpse. A bloodied ice skate was near the top of his head, and a deep gash ran across his neck.

“Nice makeup job, dude.”

“I don’t think that’s makeup, Dick.” Logan played his flashlight over the scene. There wasn’t much to see. 

“Hey, that’s my stalker from senior year- Leo somebody,” Gia gushed. “Well, he wasn’t like, you know, an actual stalker, stalker, but he followed me around, and I definitely think I was his type.”

“Young?” Carrie said, without any trace of humor. 

Veronica didn’t have any doubt, but she needed to be sure. She let go of Logan’s hand and used her teeth to pull off her glove. Gingerly, she stepped closer to the body. Careful to avoid the blood, she bent down and felt Leo’s wrist for a pulse. “He’s dead.”

[imamoderntragedy]

When Miss Rona Came To Town

 I woke up later than usual today. I’ve been a lot more tired recently than I was before it happened, but that’s okay because there is barely any traffic anymore so the drive to school takes half the time it did a few days ago.

 It has two names, the thing that’s caused all the traffic to disappear, and everyone around the world knows them by now so calling it by its real name is entirely unnecessary. At school everyone simply says “any more news on what they’re doing about it?” Everyone knows what it is. Either that or they call it a pet name, simply a shortened version of its full name, like a nickname I guess. Not that what we call it will matter much anymore. We’ll all be in isolation soon. The Prime Minister announced that closure off all schools in the UK yesterday, well, all the ones that didn’t already have confirmed cases. I watched the live feed on my phone with my mum as we made dinner. People had been calling for schools to close for weeks anyway so we weren’t really surprised when the decision was announced. The issue was more a matter of ‘when’ than ‘if’. My mum didn’t entirely understand why they needed to close though.

“You young people can’t get it so I don’t see why schools need to close.” Of course she wasn’t completely wrong, but she wasn’t entirely right either.

“What about the teachers mum?” I’d asked her. “What about them?” She didn’t reply to that. I had more points but I knew better than to say anything. She never liked being wrong.

 There was a power cut last night too. My sister was in the bathroom when the lights went out and she screamed which made me jump as well. She doesn’t like the dark so she stayed in my room until the lights came back on. My friends from school two towns over said that they had one about the same time. The WiFi went down for a few minutes as well. We all knew that it wasn’t what had caused the power to go out or the WiFi to go down. We made an educated guess, not that an educated guess from us would be worth much with our GCSEs and quarter of an A-Level. Either way we guessed that the power went out because of the effects of it. The lack of workers. The constant checking of the live death count online and then the checking it again. Nobody could tell for sure though, apart from maybe the government and the power companies. But they wouldn’t tell us.

 We are just year twelves.

 I arrived at school at about that same time that I always do and met with my friends at the top of the Sixth Form Center. We spoke about the Prime Minister’s speech. Everyone had watched the Prime Minister’s speech. For some reason, we kept talking about what we would do if we had some power in all of this. As if we though we knew how we could fix everything. We all knew that we couldn’t. We aren’t quite that ignorant to think we know everything that is at stake here. I don’t think the Prime Minister himself even knows everything that’s at stake here, even though we’d like to think he does.

 After that, we dispersed across the school to go to our form. That’s when our tutor announced that all of the year thirteens would have no lessons and had to clear out their lockers so they could leave after break. All of their lessons were cancelled and their school year was over. No one had expected that. No one I knew at least.

 For most of them it didn’t sink in. Or they didn’t believe it. Or they didn’t want to believe it. Their reactions were difficult to read. They ranged from stunned silence to loud complaints. For them, that email meant a year and a half of their lives wasted. What made it even worse was that they had no idea how this would affect their applications for university or apprenticeships. The uncertainty made some people cry.

 Then two free periods of wasted time, no one did their work. Most people were dashing around the room saying their rushed last goodbyes to the friends they had made in their one and a half years of wasted time. There was a person in the corner crying out that they would have tired harder in their mock exams if they knew the it was going to be the mock results that they would need for their application. Their friends were there too, trying to reassure them that the teachers would put in a good word, of course, they didn’t know if it was true or not, they were just pretty sure.

 At break, everyone was saying their final goodbyes. I wrote in some leavers books, although you could hardly call them that. The books were actually ‘Top 100 Graduate Employers: 20th Edition’ by The Times newspaper because the school had ordered double the amount that they had actually needed for the school’s post-18 programme, which would now be simultaneously a lot more and a lot less applicable because of it. The school hadn’t even put together the yearbooks yet, so there was no way the students were getting them now. All of the companies involved in the printing process were probably already closed down already anyway.

 English Literature was next. Our teacher did the same as our form tutor but with slightly more information. New emails sent out every minute. We were supposed to do a new Keats poem although we made the silent unanimous decision that reading Keats’ work wouldn’t do anything to brighten the mood. Duffy wouldn’t either. So we just talked for the entire hour about the effects that it would have and how we would do our lessons while in isolation. There were some jokes passed around about how our teacher, Mr Wilson, should keep safe because he was one of the ‘vulnerable few’ but in all reality, it wasn’t a joke. We all knew that.

 We also knew that Mr Wilson was one of the ‘vulnerable few’ however he didn’t seem like the kind of person who would leave his house on a regular basis anyway. We could all imagine the stacks of books that he would be reading. Between the jokes there were questions. Too many to count. The answer to all was the same.

“I don’t know.” His words were repeated like a solemn mantra that only brought more dread every time it was repeated.

 Politics was the opposite. There was a total of five unanswerable questions before the teacher dismissed them all with a swipe of his hand and a single shout. He pretended that it didn’t exist after that. As if everything was fine and the world wasn’t burning to ashes around us.

 From all of that I concluded that they didn’t know. I checked with the others. None of their teachers knew. But how could they not know? They were teachers. Teachers knew everything. Well, teachers used to know everything. They don’t anymore.

 All mass gatherings had been ‘advised against’ by the government since last week, but Headmaster Rhodes was determined to give year eleven a “proper send-off” as he called it. I caught a glimpse of the assembly hall. The chairs were all arranged an arm’s length apart. As if that would do anything to stop it.

 I checked the death toll in the car on the way home. The numbers rose by forty people today.

 It was getting quicker. It was getting too quick.

 “Have you heard about the rivers in Italy?” My mum was sitting in the driver’s seat navigating her way through the near-empty roads.

“I haven’t.” I glanced up from my phone and turned towards her.

“They’re blue again. They were green, you know that ones in Venice?” I nodded. “Well, they’ve turned blue again. There’s even some fish in them. People thought all the fish had died years ago, but just this morning there were reports of fish.” She smiled sporadically and then bit her lip nervously and her face grew back into a harrowing stare.

“At least some good has come out of it.” I replied, turning back to my phone.

 Maybe it could be the start of a new era. Who knows. All I know is if this is the transition from one era to another then it’s dangerous, terrifying, and full of uncertainty.

 I don’t like it.

[buckybabybaby]

Mr Hollywood (Chapter 5)

Summary: Bucky Barnes, an underpaid teaching assistant in a small English village, dreams of a movie career back in his home country of America. He finally gets the break he's always wanted, and if it wasn't for you, his best friend, he wouldn't have been able to take it.

But is that fact enough to save your friendship when it's tested by the pressures of Hollywood?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word count: 1865

Chapter summary: Bucky comes home! But only briefly... :(

Warnings: None I think!

Chapter 4

Mr Hollywood Masterlist

Masterlist

*****

Pouring rain on Halloween night means the bowl of sweets by your front door is almost full as you answer the bell for the final few trick-or-treaters. Normally, Bucky helps you decorate the porch and front garden on the Saturday closest to the thirty first, so doing it alone this year was a bit of a challenge, but you're happy with the end result. 

The witches cat, out for it's third year, sits well by the mini pumpkins and broom, and the motion activated sound effects along the lantern lit path create the perfect atmosphere, just the right side of creepy.

The children certainly seem to approve.

Switching off the fairy lights and putting the leftover treats out of sight and temptation, you curl up on the sofa, scrolling through the pictures you took earlier of your decorations, choosing the best to send to Bucky. By your calculations it should be around midday in Los Angeles, lunch time hopefully, however it's always difficult to judge when he'll have a bit of a break. His replies to your texts have been slow and sporadic, but you understand, and he always apologises for taking so long. Today is a different story though, as the message is marked as read seconds after you send it, and you watch the little bubbles on the bottom of the screen as he types back his response. It's only a short text, saying that he shouldn't really be on his phone right now, but 'Happy Halloween!', and its accompanied by a photo of his own seasonal decorations, a plump pumpkin carved to look like a haunted house. He was always better than you at that kind of thing, you think, as you compare your own efforts with his, marvelling over the intricacy of the design. The picture appears to be taken in his trailer, and you zoom in to the corners, pleased to see it's cosy, homely. You had worried about how he would cope, being thrown in to such a foreign situation, as from the little information Bucky had been able to share, it seemed as though the other actors were old hands at living on set. It looks like Bucky's learned a thing or two from them.

Your reply to his picture goes unread, and you don't expect it to be answered any time soon. It feels like you never have proper back and forth conversations any more, that phone call cancelling his trip home feels like an age ago, and you miss his voice. The first half of the Autumn term wasn't as tough as you thought it would be, Bucky's replacement Peter is as easy to work with, so you have no complaints on that front, its just not quite the same without him.

Later, as you climb into bed, you allow yourself to briefly think about the future. Now that Halloween is done with, Christmas feels just around the corner, and Bucky's return can't come quickly enough.

*****

Luckily, Autumn quickly rolls to an end, and before you can blink, the annual school disco is upon you. The children look forward to it, and while it is a wonderful way to end the school term, with the combination of sugary drinks and snacks from the tuck shop, the only time they're permitted, the excitement for Christmas, and the speakers blasting classic festive songs, keeping it all under control can be exhausting for the adults.

Taking a breather, you wander through the empty corridors until you can no longer hear the commotion from the assembly room. The cloakrooms between the classroom areas are always a little cooler as they aren't heated, and after the stuffy hall its a welcome break.

Discreetly checking your phone you sigh at the lack of texts. You try not to keep it on you when you're working, not wanting it to be a distraction, but you are waiting on a message from Bucky, not so patiently. You want to know when he's going to be back around here so you can see him, but that's difficult to plan for when he doesn't reply. Leaning against the wall, you scold yourself for being annoyed at how uncommunicative he is, its unfair to expect to be made a priority, and it's not as if you're going to be super busy over the winter break. Whenever he's free you'll make sure you are too.

A door shuts nearby and you pocket your phone, pretending to be interested in the staff board in front of you, showing every teacher, assistant, cleaner and cook on it, your picture sitting at the top of the second column. Footsteps approach as you zone out, staring down the photo of yourself, only half aware that they've stopped beside you.

“Is that who took my place? Looks like one of those cartoon me-mes.”

Frowning, it takes your brain a few moments to work out what is happening.

“A what? Me-”

Turning to face the person who interrupted your bubble of quiet, you gasp, sure you're dreaming.

Bucky stands in front of you, and before he has a chance to say hi properly you're throwing yourself into his arms, only just holding in your squeal of joy as he wraps his arms around you. He smells just as he always did, that combination of three colognes you used to tease him about even though it is an amazing scent on him, and the memories it evokes has you snivelling against his chest.

He soothes you, rocking you with him as you wipe your eyes with your sleeve. “Sorry. I'm just tired I think.”

Nodding understandably against your hair, he hold you tight in his arms until your calmer.

Suddenly remembering his earlier words, you giggle as you pull away. “Me-mes? Really Bucky, you're still such a disaster.”

“And a very merry Christmas to you too.”

Smiling so wide your face hurts, you take him in. He's wearing a yellow visitor badge as opposed to your blue staff lanyard, and it makes him look so out of place even with the familiar surroundings. You note that despite spending nearly half a year in California, he's only slightly more tanned than when he left, but his hair looks different, glossier if possible, and softer. His casual style hasn't changed though, and you're happy to see that faithful puffer jacket he bought a couple of winters ago is still around. You can imagine he's grateful for it, coming back to the shock of single figure temperatures. All in all, he looks so much better than you remembered.

“And anyway,” You say, gesturing to Peter's picture that Bucky commented on, “He's actually really nice. So you should be too.”

“If you say so.”

Snorting, you check your watch. “If you have time, you could meet him?”

“I'd love to, but I've got to get to Dayton's. I didn't say I was coming here first, he'll worry I got stuck in the airport.”

“What do you mean? Haven't you been to his yet?”

“I wanted to see you first.”

“It's not really on the way is it?”

“No, but, worth it.”

Your tummy flips, flattered by his honesty. At a loss of what to say in response, you stare at the notice board behind his head, wondering if he's always had this effect on you and you've just forgotten over the months he's been gone, or if this is a new feeling. Even after an absence of six months he still has such a hold over you.

“What about tomorrow?” You ask after a short silence. “You remember the Christmas lunch? I'm sure we could squeeze you in if you wanted.”

You cross your fingers behind your back, desperate to have him here a little longer.

“Only if they have those potatoes I like.”

Thinking about how you'll make them for him yourself if you have to, you laugh at his condition for attendance, before escorting him back to the entrance foyer and his waiting taxi.

*****

“Are they not feeding you over there?” You chuckle, watching fondly as Bucky scoffs down a very full plate of dinner. Students and teachers a like have been absolutely delighted to see him again, and he's been given pride of place at the main table, with you squashed in beside him at his insistence. Peggy sits opposite, giving you a significant look every time your eyes meet.  She's not pleased that you aren't paying attention to her.

“Well, yeah, but only the really healthy stuff.” He takes a last forkful, scraping at the plate forlornly, before eyeing the food you are yet to eat. Sighing good naturedly, you push it towards him. “Go ahead.”

Thanking you with a grin, he tucks in, quiet until you question him on how long he'll be back.

“Only a couple of days.” He cringes at your confused expression.

“But I thought-”

“I know, I know. But as we've had so many delays because of the weather, everything is so behind, we're basically filming all hours of the day. Most people on set have never seen anything like it, and it's only going to get even more intense. They want to hit the summer season so we're doing all nighters to get it finished.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“And then press and promo, I don't know when I'll get to come home next.”

You don't know what to say. Bucky only arrived yesterday, and now that it looks like he'll be gone by the end of the week you're lost, disappointed and angry at someone or someone's you haven't met.

“Are you at least getting enough sleep?”

He shrugs. “Does anyone in this industry?”

Peter interrupts your conversation before you can continue your interrogation, flopping down between you and Bucky to introduce himself, seemingly in awe of everything about him and his life after Wild Fields Primary School. He knows what you've told him, so not much really, and whilst he tries to dig for more answers from Bucky you force yourself to smile and enjoy the little time you have with him.

*****

The end of lunch comes too soon and whilst you would love to stay with Bucky, teaching duties call. He's driven himself here so you walk with him back to the door out to the car park, refraining yourself from giving him a hug as it feels inappropriate in front of so many people, but he has no such qualms, and ignoring everyone around, you treasure being so close to him, conscious that it may be a long while until you see him again.

Stepping back eventually, you peer through the drizzle at the car Bucky's hired for the day, only half surprised to clock the luxury badge on the front. Not exactly the little run around he used to own.

“That looks very fancy, really going up in the world aren't you?”

“I'm still me.” He says, smiling bashfully as he presses a kiss to your forehead, before slipping out of the door.

“Just don't you forget about me Bucky Barnes.”

“Never, doll.”

You wave him off, not knowing then that Hollywood has a way of changing people, and that sometimes they can't keep their promises.

*****

Chapter 6

[lagroupie]

Interview : Rob Heron & The Tea Pad Orchestra

The band a few minutes before going on stage, through my Olympus Trip!

As part of their European tour, Rob and his gang were passing by Zurich for a concert at the epic venue El Lokal last month. I was really looking forward to the show, especially since their new album had just come out- and the songs of Soul Of My City sounded even better live. It was really difficult not to dance!

Before the concert, I sat down with Rob at the bar and we had a little chat about the band’s life in Newcastle, being a 21st-Century musician with 20th Century influences, Soul Of My City, red wine and more.

Many thanks to El Lokal, Rob Heron and his management for their warm welcome!

Before we talk about your music, I wanted to get to know you a little bit better. What’s your life like in Newcastle?

Rob Heron: Well, I’m originally from the West Coast of North England, a place called Cumbria. I moved to Newcastle to study music, which is where I met most of the rest of the band- that was about 10 years ago, and I’ve done music ever since really! I started this band about 7 years ago.

Do you guys manage to live off your music now?

Pretty much! A couple of the boys teach music privately. Paul our drummer is a lecturer at university, and I spend my time DJing and making coffee in a café when I’m not doing this! So it’s mainly making music, but you have to make money some other ways sometimes.

I’d like to talk about your new album Soul of My City- I read in some interviews that you got inspired by the gentrification of Newcastle, is that true?

I wouldn’t say “inspired”, but it’s definitely an issue yeah! (laughs) So there’s a place where we go drinking a lot and play a lot of music and there’s a lot of buildings being pulled down- mostly old buildings, and venues closing down because of developments and expensive hotels or student housing. Which in my opinion doesn’t bring a lot of culture. It’s killing off the exciting atmosphere to an area.

It’s like in London right? London bands told me the same thing.

Yeah, everywhere. They’ve closed down music venues because of complaints from flats next door that were built after the music venue. So it’s a lyrical inspiration, but I wouldn’t say the word “inspired”! (laughs)

Shot with my good old canon.

I also wanted to know more about the first track, Let’s Go Back In Time. How did it come to life?

Hmm… I take a lot of notes on my phone when I have song ideas, and one of the notes just said “let’s go back in time, man”. I don’t know why it came into my head one day, because I can’t remember writing the note. The song originally had an extra verse that we never recorded, because the song is about how good music was in the past- for me anyway. And the last verse was summing it up for me I guess, because I don’t think politics and equality were better back then, but the music was. But I just decided not to include that verse, because it made it a little bit too complicated. I’d like to go back in time for the music, but I enjoy the 21st Century for its growing addressing of issues and equality!

That’s interesting, because a lot of reviews describe your music as if it didn’t belong in the 21st Century. I actually disagree- I think it really belongs in the present times!

This is true, people think it’s old-fashioned music. But this generation of people has the ability to listen to music from the 1920s, 1930s, 1940s, 1950s, 1960s… So why wouldn’t we be influenced by all of it? And lyrically…

…It’s very now.

I think it’s very now. Which is something I’m trying to do, because I’m not from 1953 Tennessee- I’m from Newcastle in the 21st Century. It’s born to keep good music from the past alive in a modern way I think.

Yeah, and I think nostalgia is more “now” than ever. For example, I see so many people coming back to vinyls, trying to live in a more authentic or sustainable way to fight climate change.

Yeah, and if ain’t broken, don’t fix it! Old clothes, old records, they’re still there so you may as well use them instead of buying loads of new plastic stuff and throwing it away next year.

Could you please tell me a bit about my favorite track, There's a Hole (Where My Pocket Used To Be)? I also really like how the music video fits with the music. How did you get the idea for the melody?

I collect a lot of records, and there’s a track by Fred Carter called What Am I Gonna Do With Anna. That is basically a minor key verse and then it goes to the major key for the chorus, which is what happens in There’s A Hole (Where My Pocket Used To Be). So I guess that was the initial inspiration. But I wanted a song like a cowboy film theme, because I love all the spaghetti western music. That’s why we use a theremin, male backing vocals… And the thing is, that’s all of the band’s favorite track on the new album! And a lot of people’s favorite track that I have spoken to. The video is of course loads of fun, and we couldn’t have made any other video apart from our own spaghetti western film! But instead of pretending to be in a desert, we thought it would be fun to do it in Newcastle.

Now I have a weird question. If you had to drink one thing for the rest of your life, what would you choose between red wine and tomato juice?

Hmm… I would choose red wine of course! I don’t drink a lot of tomato juice.

Okay! The least healthy option. (laughs)

That’s the least healthy option, but I enjoy to drink red wine! I would probably die without any water. But tomato juice gives me an awful heart burn, whereas red wine does not! (laughs)

What can we expect from Rob Heron and the Tea Pad Orchestra in the future?

It’s an interesting question. I’m hoping to record this summer. It will be along the same lines of the last album, but maybe more of the 60s rhythm and blues sound, and I might start playing electric guitar.

It’s like you’re going further and further in time! (laughs)

Yeah! We might stop at psychedelic and funk in the 70s. But yeah, I think we’ll do – maybe – an EP before the next album.

https://www.facebook.com/robheronandtheteapadorchestra/

[whittynovels]

November 9

TW: Abuse, rape

****SPOILER ALERT****

I would give this zero stars if I could. Since I was on the plane when I began reading this, I was unable to snapchat vlog how much I hated it. Therefore, here’s my list of complaints in word format:

• Fallon describes herself as being “obsessive-compulsive” about hygiene. You could just say you find hygiene important instead of belittling an actual mental illness for a hyperbole.

• Homeboy (Ben) eavesdrops on a conversation Fallon has with her father in a restaurant, then when she says she hasn’t had a boyfriend, he SLIPS INTO THE BOOTH NEXT TO HER AND PRETENDS TO BE HER BOYFRIEND? WTF THE FUCK? GO SIT BACK AT YOUR OWN TABLE. STOP TOUCHING HER AND CALLING HER LADYBUG AND BABY. 1-800-DID-NOT-ASK AND WAS NOT INVITED. HOLY SHIT I HATE THIS

• I’m tired of every colleen hoover being about a girl with self-confidence issues. Even worse, in this one, the MC has disfiguring scars, which just worsens the fact that Hoover would exploit trauma and burn victims to establish a character trait.

• LITERALLY THE ENTIRE FIRST CHAPTER IN BEN’S PERSPECTIVE IS TALKING ABOUT HER BOOBS AND WHAT COLOR UNDERWEAR SHE IS WEARING. WHAT THE FUCK???? HOW IS THAT SEXY OR ROMANTIC FOR A GUY TO BE FANTASIZING ABOUT UNDRESSING A GIRL IN HIS HEAD BARELY TWO MINUTES AFTER THEY MEET????? FUCK ME UP I HATE IT

• FURTHERMORE, (I’ll stop using caps now bc I feel like I’m wearing it out but please do bear in mind that I’m furious) he literally says “if we’re just going to sit here and stare at each other, it’d be nice if she were showing a little cleavage, instead of wearing this long-sleeved shirt that leaves everything to the imagination. It’s pushing eighty degrees outside. She should be in something a lot less . . .  convent-inspired” (pg. 24). LITERALLY FUCK YOU WHAT THE FUCK IT’S CHAPTER 2 AND YOU’RE ALREADY DICTATING HOW SHE SHOULD DRESS?????? OH MY FUCKING GOD I WANT TO TEAR THIS BOOK APART

• NOT EVEN THE WORST PART!!! A few paragraphs later he starts looking at her scars and he’s like “Are [her breasts] scarred, too? How much of her body is actually affected?” And I get that it might be a genuine curiosity to see her and wonder how much of her body is affected by the burns, bUT YOU CAN’T JUST ASK SOMEONE THAT OR BLATANTLY FANTASIZE ABOUT UNDRESSING THEM JUST TO SATISFY YOUR CURIOSITY ABOUT THEIR DISEASE OR SCARS!!! I literally don’t understand this. This is absolutely disgusting. “I begin to mentally undress her, and not in a sexual way. I’m just curious. Really curious.” (pg 25). WTTTFFFFF??????!!!!!!!!!! this is so wrongly voyeuristic and completely fetishizes her scars.

• I call bullshit on this book. I know romance is unrealistic because it’s mostly just girls’ wish fulfillment, but a straight, not unattractive guy swooping in to save a girl from a verbally abusive dad, buys her dinner, is a creative writing student, etc.? It doesn’t happen. This doesn’t exist.

• I’ve always gotten subtle homophobic vibes from Hoover’s books, but on page 28 MC says “No gay man I know would have left the house looking like you do right now” and just the outright stereotyping and trying to use that to be funny is just gross. Assuming every single gay man puts fashion on an alter is so stupidly stereotypical and I’m angry about it.

• Ahhh. Page 34. He begins to get all romantic and heavy and saying “want to know what I was thinking about when I saw you for the first time?” and we thought we were going to get a touching story about looking past her scars at her beauty but nope. Full paragraphs talking about her ass and him wondering if she was going commando. The objectification of women in this one is so undeniably and painfully real.

• Ben basically navigates throughout this book doing whatever he wants without asking Fallon’s consent and then basically forcing her to do things because he thinks she’s uncomfortable for no reason. It’s just disgusting that the man’s presence in this book is written so much more naturally and commandeering in this book.

• For instance, there’s this entire scene where Ben wants her to wear this really revealing dress and she doesn’t want to but he keeps pressuring her to and finally Fallon is about to have a panic attack and cry and she’s squeezing her eyes shut because Ben is running his hands along her shirt and unbuttoning it (WHICH DEFINITELY MEANS FUCK OFF SHE DOESN’T WANT YOU TOUCHING HER FUCK YOU BEN FUCK YOU) and he finally takes off her shirt and looks her over and it’s so fucking uncomfortable and nonconsensual and totally inappropriate having only met a few hours ago then he taKES OFF HER PANTS AND DOES THE SAME THEN TELLS HER TO LIFT HER ARMS AND PHYSICALLY PUTS THE DRESS ON FOR HER and I just wanted her to literally slice him in half like I’m so done with him. He is the opposite of romantic and if I were to ever encounter him in person I would literally stomp him like a roach. Literally. Fight me colleen hoover and your shitty-ass books too.

• May I just say that when he was telling her what dress to wear, he literally said “I’m paying for dinner, so I get to choose what I stare at while we eat.” Is that not a characteristic of an abusive boyfriend to be so controlling to force her to wear what he wants her to wear? And they’ve only been “friends” for 3 hours?

• Ben literally tells her, 3 hours into their friendship, I quote, “It’s your own fault people feel uncomfortable looking at you.” I can’t even make this shit up. He tells her it’s her fault that she has burn scars, that they make her feel self-conscious, and the reaction people have to them. If I didn’t already hate this character so much I would actually tear him to shreds with my bare hands.

• You wanna know what the male gaze is? It’s a male supposed-love interest saying shit like “There’s just enough showing at her neckline to keep me good and happy.” Because women, their boobs, and their lowcut shirts exist to make men “good and happy.” Barf. Gag. Vomit.

• HE LITERALLY FUCKING SAID TO HER, “ . . . you could very well be as dumb as a rock. But at least you’re pretty” (pg. 57). LITERALLY WAY TO FUCKING OBJECTIFY A WOMAN TO REDUCE HER TO HAVING NO CAPACITY FOR INTELLIGENCE AT ALL, AS LONG AS SHE’S WEARING A LOWCUT SHIRT. FUCK YOU COLLEEN HOOVER.

• There’s this scene where he’s running his hands along her scars. He asks, “is this okay?” asking for consent. Great. Awesome. But she responds “I don’t know.” And he fuCKING KEEPS GOING. NOPE. YOU RUINED IT. GOODBYE. I’M NOT EVEN SURPRISED SHE’S DESCRIBED AS HAVING TEARS IN HER EYES THE NEXT PAGE. BECAUSE YOU FUCKING KEPT GOING WHEN SHE DIDN’T CONSENT TO BEING TOUCHED MORE.

• They start outlining rules for what to do between the time that they’ll see each other again and whereas fallon’s are things like “read these books and have fun,” ben’s is literally, “go on dates. You don’t have enough experience for girls of your age.” Like, great. That makes me feel really good about myself. Great job.

• She eventually reveals that her left breast was disfigured from the fire and literally in the next line of dialogue ben is like LET ME SEE IT I NEED TO SEE IT CONSIDER IT RESEARCH I WANT TO KNOW. Like in what the fuck world is that acceptable? It’s her number one insecurity and he’s such an entitled asshole that he’s like “uhhuh cool but let me see it. Because I’m curious.” Fuck you ben. And fuck hoover for exploiting women like that.

• Every sexual advance after that wasn’t because “you’re beautiful I love you,” it was, “let me take off your clothes so I can see the scars you keep trying to hide.” So disgusting.

• I think the saddest thing is Fallon never stops Ben from doing anything. She continually complies, even if it causes her to have tears in her eyes, shakiness, etc. She has so much internalized misogyny that she allows men to control her and tell her what to do and she contributes it to the alpha male personality in the romance books she reads. I’m so, so upset for her that she can’t stick up for herself, and Ben disguises his exploitative, disgusting, and toxic obsession with her scars and undressing her as concern and love.

• They were talking about their favorite foods. Ben said Pad Thai. Fallon said Sushi. “they’re almost the same thing . . . [because t]hey’re both Asian food” (pg 121) lmao okay…………..

• Fuck the Tate and Miles cameo. I fucking hate Miles.

• “I step forward and shut her up with my mouth” lollolololol I hate this. I fucking hate this. Let her speak. Stay in your own fucking lane. You don’t dictate when she needs to shut up, especially kissing her forcibly to make her stop talking.

• “He kisses me with entitlement” is a real fucking line in the book. It literally just proved my point. Ben thinks he’s so entitled to her body. This is actually a perfect summary of any CoHo book you’ll read. Such arrogant, ridiculous, entitled men.

• After she loses her virginity to him, she literally describes it as she “lost a part of [her]self to the person inside [her] . . . as if the second [they] joined together, a tiny piece of [their] souls got confused and a piece of his fell into [her] and a piece of [hers] fell into him.” IS THIS NOT THE EXACT WORDING OF ABSINTANCE-ONLY SEX ED??? TELLING GIRLS THAT THEY ARE POLLUTING THEMSELVES AND GIVING AWAY PARTS OF THEMSELVES TO MEN WHEN THEY  LOSE THEIR VIRGINITY????? VIRGINITY IS A CONSTRUCT. YOU AREN’T LOSING ANYTHING. YOU ARE AN INDIVIDUAL PERSON EVEN AFTER SEX. OH MY GOD THIS BOOK IS UNBEARABLE PLEASE MAKE IT END.

• fuCKING GUESS WHAT IT GOT WORSE

• the next morning she was like “I gotta go” and he literally said, I quote, “I’ve never wanted to use physical force on a girl before, but I want to push her to the ground and hold her there until the cab drives away.” He literally threatens physical violence on her. BUT SO CUTE AND RELATABLE!!!! AM I RIGHT???!!!!!

• He actually gets pissed when she refuses to let him move in with her and exchange numbers. Like cry me a river, fuckboy.

• This book is just so outright woman hating. Ben has such frail masculininty. He was like “Fallon said she hates insta-love, but apparently she hates semi-instant love and slow love and love at a snail’s pace and love in general.” Like way to villainize a woman because she wants the best for you???? Horny motherfucker, go take a nap.

• At this point I stopped taking notes because shit was happening every paragraph but here’s the rest of what I remember

• SEVERAL times in this book, Fallon tells Ben “I need to leave” and he either grabs her, stands in front of the door, or otherwise blocks her exit. That’s extremely controlling and nasty.

• At one point she tries to drive away from him but he grabs her keys out of her hand and walks to his own car, forcing her to scream after him and follow him to get them back. He walks all over her life and calls it “alpha male” romance.

• Near the end of the book Fallon’s out on a date with another guy and he shows up and is super manipulative pretending like he’s interviewing them for an article or some shit, but he’s actually just creeping on the guy she’s with because he hates how she’s moved on from him. That’s so controlling and disgusting? Literally leave her alone, she’s with another man? What the fuck? Grow up?

• During this same scene, Fallon is drunk at the bar and Ben takes her, drags her down a hallway, corners her there, demands to know who he is, and Fallon laughs. Hoover continually normalizes and REWARDS this behavior by making the main female character perceive it as humor or protectiveness.

• At one point she tells him “I need to get back to my date” and it literally says that he “lean[s] closer and sandwich[es] her against the wall,” then he says, “Don’t be like that . . . I’ve been through hell today trying to find you.” OH, OKAY, SO YOU STALKED HER, CORNERED HER, AND NOW YOU FEEL ENTITLED TO AN EXPLANATION? ENTITLED FOR HER TO LEAVE HER CURRENT DATE FOR YOU?  I hate this man. Fuck his privilege and entitlement.

• At this point I’ve yelled so much.  I’m going to try and stay calm for this one because it’s the most serious one. While they are in a bar together—Fallon drunk, Ben sober—he pulls her into a storage closet and they begin making out. Ben initiates this. Fallon is hesitant but complies. He starts touching her, and clear as day, she tells him “Stop, . . . [her] voice louder than it’s been all night.” This is an absolute, loud, clear indication that she does not want to proceed. But what does Ben do? His hands continue to “graze the edge of [her] panties” and he whispers—he fucking whispers to her face—“I’m trying. Ask me again.” He didn’t stop. He. Didn’t. Stop. THIS IS RAPE CULTURE. I TOLD MYSELF I WOULDN’T USE CAPS BUT IN A COLLEEN HOOVER BOOK THAT HAS A 4.45 RATING ON GOODREADS, THE MAIN CHARACTER TOLD THE LOVE INTEREST TO STOP DURING A HEAVY ROMANCE SCENE AND HE CONTINUED TO SHOVE HIS HAND UP HER SKIRT WHILE SAYING, “ASK AGAIN.” (UPDATE 2/18/17: Hoover is editing this out of the book. https://www.facebook.com/AuthorColleenHoover/videos/1585344338145828/)

• At this point in the book, I was done. Then the plot twist occurred.

• The plot twist just secured this book’s place in hell for me. Ben was manipulative. Ben lied. Ben was voyeuristic, trying to see her scars because HE. CAUSED. THEM. This isn’t cute. This isn’t romance. This is a drunk driver running a red light and hitting another car, nearly killing a passenger, and then stalking, abusing, and preying on the passenger who now bears scars because of his reckless behavior. Behavior that she. Forgives. Him. For. And Hoover subsequently normalizes by publishing this book. By publishing this book, Hoover has said, “it is okay to allow men to get away with this behavior if he loves you. If it was an accident. If he had good intentions. If he’s angsty. If it was meant to be.” FUCK this book honestly.

• Fallon’s father, who at the beginning of the book told her “you’re too ugly for broadway, no one will hire you, your career is over, boys don’t love you, etc.” is posed as “misunderstood” and someone who doesn’t know how to communicate. HE RECEIVES FORGIVENESS. FOR THE DESPICABLE WORDS HE SAID TO HER AT THE BEGINNING, HE RECEIVES FORGIVENESS AND AN EXCUSE.

• I have to stop this, otherwise my head is going to explode. I’m not shaming anyone who likes this book, but I can’t believe it has escaped notice of so many people. I can’t believe I’m the only person who’s livid.

This is the end of my support for Colleen Hoover. Her books aren’t going to half price books, they’re going in the trash.

[dyncstes-a]

i left my heart with you.

a drabble for @sparekilled because idk man i ❤ angst . also because you liked my permanent starter call.

.

they say only the participant of a traumatic event would experience the aftermath of the death that hasn’t yet claimed them — and yet hans has never failed to wake up night after night with sweats cloaking up his body and shivers running down his spine at the sight of a still cedric underneath potter . it’s a repeating tragedy when he’s ripped again to this reality still shaken from a nightmare that seems so real . in his nightmare , dumbledore gives a depressing eulogy that leaves blackness dotting across his eyes at the space where he does not cry . in his nightmare , he does not accept cedric’s death . he watches almost all of everybody mourns , but as he steps to give his apology to a grieving amos , all he does is steals cedric’s tie to hook around his arm . hidden , sacred — his .

the reality is , again and again he will thank fate , that cedric hasn’t died . the curse that’s marred his body is impure , deadly even , but not impossibly lethal . that doesn’t mean the hufflepuff’s comatose state was any better . mcgonagall keeps him on a leash from constantly visiting cedric , which is a pain , but — hans recognises later — a necessary evil . he’s still granted visits , however , when dumbledore seizes him one day as he’s argued up and down to let the bloody school free him so he’s to go to st. mungo’s ——— dumbledore seems understandable enough , in an annoying way as though he’s picked apart hans’ mind when he wasn’t looking and could know of all of these wrestling emotions boiling and curling , and lets hans go . but not without a few promises and rules .

( he’s to help organise any future school event personally and without complaint. )

any other occasion , the rules would look like a special kind of burden . but the thought that something may happen to cedric when he isn’t there to make sure everything runs smoothly ? hans shivers . accepts the terms . a month and fifteen days later , cedric wakes up .

.

he swallows those nightmares like he eats his secrets ——— he keeps it inside , proper and filed , named and dated , but never to anyone . some days , this makes him sick . some days , this makes him stronger . most days , when he does get to visit cedric , he doesn’t truly visit cedric at all . the diggorys are an usual occupant around their youngest’s member’s ward , and while hans’ chest aches and pleas for him to just sit — not much , he just wants to see that the other is breathing — next to cedric’s lying form , he doesn’t . hans is usually good with parents , he knows , and , perhaps , if he asks properly , he may have a time alone with cedric even if it’s just for five minutes , but — how selfish can he be  ?

cedric’s family aren’t like his own . they care , they weep , they mourn and they pray . they deserve all the time they would get with their son , and hans is willing to give it to them . ( it feels like he’s swallowing nails when he sees them there just as he’s about to enter the ward , because he knows he’s not worthy to be among such kind people ; because he knows , compared to them , his own grieve means nothing . ) he doesn’t like it , but he’s willing . so he sits dutifully where mediwizards pass through , and he reads all he can about curses and cures and ‘how to be a good friend’ , and he harasses the staff for cedric’s state and questions and medicines . 

and hans gets into lots of arguments — he’s bitter and sad and manic most of the time , and sometimes when one of the matrons makes his blood boil , he could almost hear cedric’s pleading , soft voice hushing his demons away . it doesn’t command hans to stop , but merely assures hans that cedric is , in fact , okay . one of the evening when he’s bent over a book , mrs. diggory spots him , recognises . “you’re one of cedric’s friend , aren’t you ? hans, right ?” and , for a moment , hans feels like words were a foreign language to him .

he’s given a little more than sufficient access after that , rotating with the diggorys whenever he’s there so that the pair of parents could take a short trip home to bathe and rest . in the end , it works out . this awkward arrangement . there were also other visits . hufflepuffs , mostly . hans doesn’t interrupt those visits too whenever they come and he’s coincidentally there to make sure cedric isn’t decaying away ——— well , all except for cho . he glares most of the time she’s there . she pointedly makes all of her visits appropriately short , and perhaps he’s been with the diggorys too much , but hans thinks he may have experienced just a tinge of guilt . he scrubs them away like another file of his depression ; ready to be ignored and left to dust .

the routine changes a bit when cedric finally wakes up . he does so when hans is in the middle of a class , and it sends hans frantic and unable to focus during advance potions which makes snape glowers , which in return makes hans glowers back — and , perhaps it’s the green-silver bowtie that’s embed around his neck , but thankfully all snape does is roll his eyes and pretends hans doesn’t exist for the remaining time until the class is excused . when he’s finally , finally , allowed to be at st. mungo’s , with dumbledore trailing behind , hans finds himself stopping when he spots the diggorys and harry potter and cho-fucking-chang already crowding the ward.

hans waits and waits and waits at the hall ( he reads the charts and listens to the mediwizards ramble medical terms that he’s come to know over the month cedric wasn’t waking up ) , and he swears he could taste glasses down his tongue when dumbledore emerges requesting all of the hogwarts students returning — visiting hour is over , after all — and hans is there , dumbfounded , because he hadn’t even gotten the chance to see cedric yet ( he hadn’t wanted to share his moments with other people. he can’t. dear lord , please allow him this . ) and — and how could it ? but hans swallows the thick bile at the back of his throat , his shoes ready to follow when mrs. diggory calls . 

“he wants to see you.”

hans tells himself he isn’t crying when he parts the curtain hiding cedric from public view as he steps into the small area of the ward . with a hazy flicker of grey eyes landing on him , it seems like all of the nightmares he’s buried in his hollowed stomach disappears . he breathes , comes forward and track a gloveless finger down the other’s pulse — closing his eyes when they beat . cedric is watching him , smiling maybe . hans can’t really tell . the prince sits , face painful from trying to hide his own grin too much and he croaks ,

❛   thank you.   ❜

i love you.

.

cedric doesn’t take the final exams that year . he could , and hans has been willing to help him without him even asking , but the mediwizard hadn’t advised the youngest of diggory to do so . hans harasses the nurse some more for information , because it’s odd that they’ve denied a student of education and hans isn’t quite himself if he’s not suspicious : only to find out two weeks into cedric’s recovery that the dark-haired man might be suffering more than just physical pain .

hans begins reading more into post traumatic stress disorder . 

the wizarding kind still kindly calls it “battle fatigues” and hans gets books on those too . there were many attempted cures , he’s discovered , both magical and muggle kinds — but ptsd has never been a tangible thing . nothing completely goes away . ( and something in hans knows this , because he might be experiencing it too — been experiencing it his whole life — but he makes note on the herbs and medications and procedures , anyway . he has to . he can’t stand feeling helpless . ) he never tells cedric this . but he talks to the mediwizard often , now being in a much better term once cedric’s civilised their relationship , to ensure the proper treatment’s taken .

a month after cedric wakes up , st. mungo finally grants him a date to be released . summer comes .

.

summer is hard for hans . in order for him to be granted visits to london so he could sneak to the wizarding world requires him exerting extra efforts in obeying father’s commands . but he doesn’t want to complaint . not if it means he gets to see cedric twice in a week . thankfully , brothers weren’t particularly around much , so the abuse has only been limited to jabs and their usual mock and perhaps a pinch or two along hans’ ribs until hans cries .

he still doesn’t tell cedric this . he knows it weighs on the hufflepuff that hans isn’t willing to share his pain when he’s generously welcomed hans to know every bits of him that he could expose . but — it’s harder now . cedric isn’t well , and hans hates dropping burden that he’s well adapted to carry on his own . things still get better however . he tells cedric more — not about the nightmare , not about the jobs that father has him do just to grant him these little time where he could lie down and share the moment with the other boy . but he opens up more about his mother that never truly comes out from her room . about where he’s travelled as a child . about how his family hates the wizarding kind so very much , they tear hans’ first robe when hans keeps wearing it the first time he comes home from hogwarts — which was why hans never wear those much , and he’s owned only three in his life .

cedric is patient and kind through it all : through hans , his own pain , his parents’ fussing and his many friends’ visits . and — slowly — he gets better with time . hans wishes he could say he’s there most of the time when the hufflepuff makes a huge progress , but that would be a lie . cedric still insist the prince does more than he gives himself credit for , and — as they lie on the bed watching the rain drops and hans having just finishes cedric off with his palm covered in the other’s cum — hans tells cedric he loves him . not because he’s just given a handjob rather successfully , or that because he’s felt it’s necessary since it’s something people who were dating tended to confess to one another , but simply because he think he has loved cedric for a while now . 

and , he admits quietly when he’s cleaning the other’s remnants off with a tissue , it’s good to love somebody who loves you back .

cedric doesn’t seem like he’s disagreeing .

.

in the end , with all of hans’ fear of not wanting his heart getting broken by another , he ends up being the one who breaks cedric’s heart . it’s february 12 — two days before valentine’s — and people cowering in fear of things that cannot be stopped any longer , that hans packs his suitcases and shoves them into his trunk . some have already branded him a coward with a glare and cussed words — but what are little jabs compared to father’s order who does not wish to send hans to fight against a kind that once deserts their family ?

blood is thicker than water . right ?

cedric stands there , tall and looming , and the warmth in his grey eyes are fading into this kind of sadness that hans knows will haunt him along with the not-corpse that the other nearly was the year before . ( under potter . unmoving . eyes open . amos screeching . his own lungs , not breathing . ) cedric doesn’t ask him to stay — or maybe he did , hans isn’t sure now — but he certainly doesn’t beg . had hans’ answer changes if he had ? the prince doesn’t know. but certainly , as he leaves , nobody will ever find out .

he still asks cedric to stay alive . ( what’s the point ? would hans be able to see him again ? probably not . but stay alive anyway , my darling. ) because apart of him will , if the other does . and this , hans is okay with .

( his heart has never been his , anyway . )

(( and he rather it being with cedric than anybody else. ))

.

the nightmares get worse after he parts . a month with his health declining , father eventually hires a psychologist for hans to talk to . he tells this doctor — doctor larsen — about his findings of PTSD and how he might have them , might , but he doesn’t like to acknowledge it . it takes months and months before hans is finally willing to work through his problems , and gently , his demons doesn’t suffer twice as bad .

he gets letters from cho here and there , telling him cedric is alive . barely , and consistently fighting — but amazingly alive . when he begins on not writing back ( ‘sometimes it’s better to leave the past behind’ says doctor larsen , again and again and again ) , and brothers drown his owl , cho stops sending more . the year goes on .

hans doesn’t think he’s any better , but the nightmares , he judges , are quieter .

.

hans stops thinking about his lifeless body until he steps back into the wizarding world after the war ends to handle his family’s accounts at gringotts . he doesn’t tell father , but it has been his long-time planning to create a new business that none of his family could touch ; that could be entirely his , and his alone . and he’s been corresponding with mcgonagall about retaking his NEWT’s exam and taking a few names who could very well help him in re-establishing his family’s name here , with him as the head of the house . and he will make his family’s future better . 

(and he will not be father.)

he doesn’t take into account that he might , after all , bump into cedric. but he does anyway . and it’s seemingly like the years lost between them has been regained , and not a moment has passed with hans standing a parallel to the other’s body . hans feels his heart beats , loud and fast and thundering , and all he could think is—

there you are.

[deborahaphillips54303]

Restaurant Dress Codes Have Long Been a Tool for Racist Discrimination

Last Sunday, Martha Grant went to the Ouzo Bay restaurant in Baltimore with her 9-year-old son, Dallas. The two of them waited for a seat on the restaurant's outdoor terrace, before a tie-and-mask wearing host told them that he was very sorry, but Dallas' T-shirt and shorts didn't meet the restaurant's dress code.

In the video that she shared on social media, Dallas was dressed like, well, a 9-year-old boy, wearing a black Air Jordan T-shirt, a pair of black shorts, and sneakers. Although Grant and her son, who are Black, were denied a seat, a white boy wearing a similar outfit had been allowed to eat at Ouzo Bay with his own family.

"Why does he get to wear athletic wear and my son can't?" Grant asks in her video. "I just want to know why it's different for my son?" (The wide-eyed host repeated that he would "love for" Grant and Dallas to come back to eat another time, but the restaurant didn't allow "athletic" attire—and he said that he didn't consider the white child's T-shirt to be "athletic.")

"We had to leave. They would not let my son in,” Grant said. “He’s 9 years old. It was so hard for him. He goes to a school that’s about 70 percent white. They always teach the kids they are the same. It was really hard for Dallas to see a kid that looked like one of his friends at school sit and eat there and he couldn’t.”

Atlas Restaurant Group, which owns Ouzo Bay, issued a statement apologizing to Grant for the "incredibly disturbing incident," confirming that the manager involved had been placed on indefinite leave, and pledging to teach itself important lessons from its own discriminatory policies.

"[T]his past weekend's incident at Ouzo Bay clearly serves as a moment that we will learn from and create change," it wrote. "As a result, we immediately revised our dress code policy so that children 12 years old and younger who are accompanied by an adult will not be subject to a dress code at any Atlas property."

But this wasn't an isolated incident. Last September, Atlas Restaurant Group was widely criticized for the discriminatory dress code at The Choptank, another of its properties in Baltimore. The Choptank posted signs on its doors, warning would-be patrons that it would not allow entry to those in baggy clothing, athletic attire, brimless headgear, backwards or sideways hats, or work and construction boots, among a handful of other restrictions. A note on the sign said that management would enforce the policies "within its discretion."

The Chophouse faced a significant amount of backlash, including from the entire Baltimore Sun Editorial Board, which urged the restaurant to "immediately" rethink those rules. "Sure, the dress code doesn’t explicitly say that African Americans or other minorities aren’t welcome at the eatery," they wrote. "But the way the code is written definitely leaves the impression that is the group of patrons the Atlas Restaurant Group, owner of the crab house and several other Baltimore restaurants, is trying to target."

The restaurant made some minor edits to its policies, like allowing athletic wear before 10 p.m. and changing its restriction on "excessively baggy clothing" to a requirement that "pants must be worn at the waist."

"We're trying to keep an upscale atmosphere for our guests and we want to give them the best possible experience," Atlas Restaurant Group CEO Alex Smith said at the time. "We're going to enforce it for everybody—it doesn't matter what race, ethnicity or creed. We're not going to budge on that." (Smith's father is Dr. Frederick Smith, a vice president and director at the ultra-conservative Sinclair Broadcast Group.)

Atlas' response to the incident with Grant and her son reads as equally opaque in regards to the group's reasoning behind its policies. "[T]he dress code is too racist to be applied to children 12 and under, but not too racist for ages 13 and up?" one Twitter response read.

Dress code policies are perhaps the last "acceptable" way for restaurants and bars to scrutinize and discriminate against Black patrons, and those "at the discretion of management" disclaimers just serve to underline their purpose. (None have made their intent more clear than a Chicago pizza joint that wrote "if denied entry, changing your appearance will not change the decision" at the bottom of its own list of restrictions.)

"It is dog whistle racism and classism masquerading as business practice," the Black Queer and Intersectional Collective wrote in response to an Ohio bar's dress code—and they and many others say it's disingenuous to pretend otherwise.

"That's what's so insidious about institutionalized racism, it's set up in a way that you're gaslighted right away," Toronto artist Isis Salam previously told VICE about the "dress codes" at the city's nightclubs. "If you say something, they'll be like 'What do you mean, there's a black guy already in there,' because they've already hit their two-black-guy quota. You can't even call them out about it, even though you can clearly see that it's not really about capacity or about dress code."

And, as Grant and Dallas learned, dress codes aren't equally applied to all patrons. In 2009, a group of students from Washington University in St. Louis filed complaints with the Chicago Human Rights Commission, the Illinois Attorney General, the U.S. Department of Justice, alleging that a bar in Chicago allowed more than 200 white students to enter, while stopping six of their Black classmates at the door.

The manager of The Original Mother's reportedly told the Black students that their jeans were too baggy to meet the dress code, but when Jordan Roberts, who is white, literally traded pants with Regis Murayi, who is Black, Roberts was allowed in—even though Murayi had been turned away just minutes earlier for wearing the same pair of jeans. (The bar later issued an apology to the students and agreed to undergo diversity training conducted by the Anti-Defamation League.)

For a study published in the journal Sociology of Race and Ethnicity, Texas A&M University professors Reuben A. Buford May and Pat Rubio Goldsmith selected six male volunteers—two white, two Black, and two Hispanic—chose their wardrobes, and sent them to 53 different nightclubs in Austin, Dallas, and Houston, Texas to see who would be allowed to enter and who wouldn't.

The men, who were all between the ages of 21 and 23, were separated into three pairs. For each twosome, one would be dressed in polo shirts, casual shoes, and crisp jeans, while the other wore a brightly colored t-shirt under a hoodie, a long necklace with a medallion, and athletic shoes. The pairs were sent to the nightclubs at staggered intervals during peak evening hours. Disappointingly, but not surprisingly, bouncers turned the Black men away 11.7 percent of the time, at about twice the rate of the white and Hispanic men. who were each denied entry 5.7 percent of the time.

The Black men reported that they were told that their attire didn't meet the dress code, despite the fact that similarly dressed white and Hispanic men were allowed to enter the same club. The Black and Hispanic men were also told to tuck in their necklaces five times, compared to once among the white participants. In his book, Urban Nightlife: Entertaining Race, Class, and Culture in Public Space, Dr. May suggests that dress codes have become a "mechanism through which a broader system of segregation is supported."

"[T]he dress codes are 'color blind' measures in which they simply focus on styles of dress. Yet because African-American men in particular have adopted these styles, they are disproportionately affected by the implementation and enforcement of these policies," he wrote.

"White patrons who simply wear styles of dress reflected in their middle-class upbringing benefit in that they need not consider dress codes. Although some African-American men are able to 'crack the code' given their middle-class backgrounds, 'color blind' dress codes continue to affect African-American men disproportionately. Thus some scholars indicate that 'color blind' racism is more pernicious than overtly racist discriminatory practices existing during periods in American history like Jim Crow."

Back in Baltimore, the fallout from Ouzo Bay's haphazardly applied policy has continued. In an op-ed for the Baltimore Sun, Maryland State Senator Jill Carter wrote that she had "witnessed racial discrimination firsthand" at two of Atlas Restaurant Group's other properties, and she has called for a citywide boycott of all 15 of its properties.

"There’s a pattern and practice of discrimination with Atlas,” she told CBS Baltimore on Monday. "If you do not want to have business from Black people in a majority-Black city, this is not the right city where you should profit." (In a statement, Atlas said that it was "incredibly unfair and unwarranted" for Carter to refer to the organization as racist.)

Atlas has since dropped the dress codes at the two restaurants it operates inside the Four Seasons Baltimore, a decision that came after the hotel said that it was "appalled by" what had happened to Grant and her son. "[W]e have shared our dismay about the event at Ouzo Bay with the leadership team at ARG as they work to ensure a culture of respect and inclusion at all of their restaurants," it wrote.

Grant has retained an attorney and is planning a lawsuit against the restaurant group, despite the belated mea culpa from Atlas CEO Alex Smith. "I want the opportunity to meet [Dallas]," he told the Sun. "I want the opportunity to be a mentor to him. I want the opportunity to apologize to him and Marcia.”

A spokesperson for the Grants shrugged that right off. "We are beyond an apology,” she said. “Mentor him about what? ... Maybe Dallas should mentor him.”

via VICE US - undefined US VICE US - undefined US via Mom's Kitchen Recipe Network Mom's Kitchen Recipe Network

[cyberpoetryballoon]

Restaurant Dress Codes Have Long Been a Tool for Racist Discrimination

Last Sunday, Martha Grant went to the Ouzo Bay restaurant in Baltimore with her 9-year-old son, Dallas. The two of them waited for a seat on the restaurant's outdoor terrace, before a tie-and-mask wearing host told them that he was very sorry, but Dallas' T-shirt and shorts didn't meet the restaurant's dress code.

In the video that she shared on social media, Dallas was dressed like, well, a 9-year-old boy, wearing a black Air Jordan T-shirt, a pair of black shorts, and sneakers. Although Grant and her son, who are Black, were denied a seat, a white boy wearing a similar outfit had been allowed to eat at Ouzo Bay with his own family.

"Why does he get to wear athletic wear and my son can't?" Grant asks in her video. "I just want to know why it's different for my son?" (The wide-eyed host repeated that he would "love for" Grant and Dallas to come back to eat another time, but the restaurant didn't allow "athletic" attire—and he said that he didn't consider the white child's T-shirt to be "athletic.")

"We had to leave. They would not let my son in,” Grant said. “He’s 9 years old. It was so hard for him. He goes to a school that’s about 70 percent white. They always teach the kids they are the same. It was really hard for Dallas to see a kid that looked like one of his friends at school sit and eat there and he couldn’t.”

Atlas Restaurant Group, which owns Ouzo Bay, issued a statement apologizing to Grant for the "incredibly disturbing incident," confirming that the manager involved had been placed on indefinite leave, and pledging to teach itself important lessons from its own discriminatory policies.

"[T]his past weekend's incident at Ouzo Bay clearly serves as a moment that we will learn from and create change," it wrote. "As a result, we immediately revised our dress code policy so that children 12 years old and younger who are accompanied by an adult will not be subject to a dress code at any Atlas property."

But this wasn't an isolated incident. Last September, Atlas Restaurant Group was widely criticized for the discriminatory dress code at The Choptank, another of its properties in Baltimore. The Choptank posted signs on its doors, warning would-be patrons that it would not allow entry to those in baggy clothing, athletic attire, brimless headgear, backwards or sideways hats, or work and construction boots, among a handful of other restrictions. A note on the sign said that management would enforce the policies "within its discretion."

The Chophouse faced a significant amount of backlash, including from the entire Baltimore Sun Editorial Board, which urged the restaurant to "immediately" rethink those rules. "Sure, the dress code doesn’t explicitly say that African Americans or other minorities aren’t welcome at the eatery," they wrote. "But the way the code is written definitely leaves the impression that is the group of patrons the Atlas Restaurant Group, owner of the crab house and several other Baltimore restaurants, is trying to target."

The restaurant made some minor edits to its policies, like allowing athletic wear before 10 p.m. and changing its restriction on "excessively baggy clothing" to a requirement that "pants must be worn at the waist."

"We're trying to keep an upscale atmosphere for our guests and we want to give them the best possible experience," Atlas Restaurant Group CEO Alex Smith said at the time. "We're going to enforce it for everybody—it doesn't matter what race, ethnicity or creed. We're not going to budge on that." (Smith's father is Dr. Frederick Smith, a vice president and director at the ultra-conservative Sinclair Broadcast Group.)

Atlas' response to the incident with Grant and her son reads as equally opaque in regards to the group's reasoning behind its policies. "[T]he dress code is too racist to be applied to children 12 and under, but not too racist for ages 13 and up?" one Twitter response read.

Dress code policies are perhaps the last "acceptable" way for restaurants and bars to scrutinize and discriminate against Black patrons, and those "at the discretion of management" disclaimers just serve to underline their purpose. (None have made their intent more clear than a Chicago pizza joint that wrote "if denied entry, changing your appearance will not change the decision" at the bottom of its own list of restrictions.)

"It is dog whistle racism and classism masquerading as business practice," the Black Queer and Intersectional Collective wrote in response to an Ohio bar's dress code—and they and many others say it's disingenuous to pretend otherwise.

"That's what's so insidious about institutionalized racism, it's set up in a way that you're gaslighted right away," Toronto artist Isis Salam previously told VICE about the "dress codes" at the city's nightclubs. "If you say something, they'll be like 'What do you mean, there's a black guy already in there,' because they've already hit their two-black-guy quota. You can't even call them out about it, even though you can clearly see that it's not really about capacity or about dress code."

And, as Grant and Dallas learned, dress codes aren't equally applied to all patrons. In 2009, a group of students from Washington University in St. Louis filed complaints with the Chicago Human Rights Commission, the Illinois Attorney General, the U.S. Department of Justice, alleging that a bar in Chicago allowed more than 200 white students to enter, while stopping six of their Black classmates at the door.

The manager of The Original Mother's reportedly told the Black students that their jeans were too baggy to meet the dress code, but when Jordan Roberts, who is white, literally traded pants with Regis Murayi, who is Black, Roberts was allowed in—even though Murayi had been turned away just minutes earlier for wearing the same pair of jeans. (The bar later issued an apology to the students and agreed to undergo diversity training conducted by the Anti-Defamation League.)

For a study published in the journal Sociology of Race and Ethnicity, Texas A&M University professors Reuben A. Buford May and Pat Rubio Goldsmith selected six male volunteers—two white, two Black, and two Hispanic—chose their wardrobes, and sent them to 53 different nightclubs in Austin, Dallas, and Houston, Texas to see who would be allowed to enter and who wouldn't.

The men, who were all between the ages of 21 and 23, were separated into three pairs. For each twosome, one would be dressed in polo shirts, casual shoes, and crisp jeans, while the other wore a brightly colored t-shirt under a hoodie, a long necklace with a medallion, and athletic shoes. The pairs were sent to the nightclubs at staggered intervals during peak evening hours. Disappointingly, but not surprisingly, bouncers turned the Black men away 11.7 percent of the time, at about twice the rate of the white and Hispanic men. who were each denied entry 5.7 percent of the time.

The Black men reported that they were told that their attire didn't meet the dress code, despite the fact that similarly dressed white and Hispanic men were allowed to enter the same club. The Black and Hispanic men were also told to tuck in their necklaces five times, compared to once among the white participants. In his book, Urban Nightlife: Entertaining Race, Class, and Culture in Public Space, Dr. May suggests that dress codes have become a "mechanism through which a broader system of segregation is supported."

"[T]he dress codes are 'color blind' measures in which they simply focus on styles of dress. Yet because African-American men in particular have adopted these styles, they are disproportionately affected by the implementation and enforcement of these policies," he wrote.

"White patrons who simply wear styles of dress reflected in their middle-class upbringing benefit in that they need not consider dress codes. Although some African-American men are able to 'crack the code' given their middle-class backgrounds, 'color blind' dress codes continue to affect African-American men disproportionately. Thus some scholars indicate that 'color blind' racism is more pernicious than overtly racist discriminatory practices existing during periods in American history like Jim Crow."

Back in Baltimore, the fallout from Ouzo Bay's haphazardly applied policy has continued. In an op-ed for the Baltimore Sun, Maryland State Senator Jill Carter wrote that she had "witnessed racial discrimination firsthand" at two of Atlas Restaurant Group's other properties, and she has called for a citywide boycott of all 15 of its properties.

"There’s a pattern and practice of discrimination with Atlas,” she told CBS Baltimore on Monday. "If you do not want to have business from Black people in a majority-Black city, this is not the right city where you should profit." (In a statement, Atlas said that it was "incredibly unfair and unwarranted" for Carter to refer to the organization as racist.)

Atlas has since dropped the dress codes at the two restaurants it operates inside the Four Seasons Baltimore, a decision that came after the hotel said that it was "appalled by" what had happened to Grant and her son. "[W]e have shared our dismay about the event at Ouzo Bay with the leadership team at ARG as they work to ensure a culture of respect and inclusion at all of their restaurants," it wrote.

Grant has retained an attorney and is planning a lawsuit against the restaurant group, despite the belated mea culpa from Atlas CEO Alex Smith. "I want the opportunity to meet [Dallas]," he told the Sun. "I want the opportunity to be a mentor to him. I want the opportunity to apologize to him and Marcia.”

A spokesperson for the Grants shrugged that right off. "We are beyond an apology,” she said. “Mentor him about what? ... Maybe Dallas should mentor him.”

via VICE US - undefined US VICE US - undefined US via Mom's Kitchen Recipe Network Mom's Kitchen Recipe Network

[carolrhackett85282]

Restaurant Dress Codes Have Long Been a Tool for Racist Discrimination

Last Sunday, Martha Grant went to the Ouzo Bay restaurant in Baltimore with her 9-year-old son, Dallas. The two of them waited for a seat on the restaurant's outdoor terrace, before a tie-and-mask wearing host told them that he was very sorry, but Dallas' T-shirt and shorts didn't meet the restaurant's dress code.

In the video that she shared on social media, Dallas was dressed like, well, a 9-year-old boy, wearing a black Air Jordan T-shirt, a pair of black shorts, and sneakers. Although Grant and her son, who are Black, were denied a seat, a white boy wearing a similar outfit had been allowed to eat at Ouzo Bay with his own family.

"Why does he get to wear athletic wear and my son can't?" Grant asks in her video. "I just want to know why it's different for my son?" (The wide-eyed host repeated that he would "love for" Grant and Dallas to come back to eat another time, but the restaurant didn't allow "athletic" attire—and he said that he didn't consider the white child's T-shirt to be "athletic.")

"We had to leave. They would not let my son in,” Grant said. “He’s 9 years old. It was so hard for him. He goes to a school that’s about 70 percent white. They always teach the kids they are the same. It was really hard for Dallas to see a kid that looked like one of his friends at school sit and eat there and he couldn’t.”

Atlas Restaurant Group, which owns Ouzo Bay, issued a statement apologizing to Grant for the "incredibly disturbing incident," confirming that the manager involved had been placed on indefinite leave, and pledging to teach itself important lessons from its own discriminatory policies.

"[T]his past weekend's incident at Ouzo Bay clearly serves as a moment that we will learn from and create change," it wrote. "As a result, we immediately revised our dress code policy so that children 12 years old and younger who are accompanied by an adult will not be subject to a dress code at any Atlas property."

But this wasn't an isolated incident. Last September, Atlas Restaurant Group was widely criticized for the discriminatory dress code at The Choptank, another of its properties in Baltimore. The Choptank posted signs on its doors, warning would-be patrons that it would not allow entry to those in baggy clothing, athletic attire, brimless headgear, backwards or sideways hats, or work and construction boots, among a handful of other restrictions. A note on the sign said that management would enforce the policies "within its discretion."

The Chophouse faced a significant amount of backlash, including from the entire Baltimore Sun Editorial Board, which urged the restaurant to "immediately" rethink those rules. "Sure, the dress code doesn’t explicitly say that African Americans or other minorities aren’t welcome at the eatery," they wrote. "But the way the code is written definitely leaves the impression that is the group of patrons the Atlas Restaurant Group, owner of the crab house and several other Baltimore restaurants, is trying to target."

The restaurant made some minor edits to its policies, like allowing athletic wear before 10 p.m. and changing its restriction on "excessively baggy clothing" to a requirement that "pants must be worn at the waist."

"We're trying to keep an upscale atmosphere for our guests and we want to give them the best possible experience," Atlas Restaurant Group CEO Alex Smith said at the time. "We're going to enforce it for everybody—it doesn't matter what race, ethnicity or creed. We're not going to budge on that." (Smith's father is Dr. Frederick Smith, a vice president and director at the ultra-conservative Sinclair Broadcast Group.)

Atlas' response to the incident with Grant and her son reads as equally opaque in regards to the group's reasoning behind its policies. "[T]he dress code is too racist to be applied to children 12 and under, but not too racist for ages 13 and up?" one Twitter response read.

Dress code policies are perhaps the last "acceptable" way for restaurants and bars to scrutinize and discriminate against Black patrons, and those "at the discretion of management" disclaimers just serve to underline their purpose. (None have made their intent more clear than a Chicago pizza joint that wrote "if denied entry, changing your appearance will not change the decision" at the bottom of its own list of restrictions.)

"It is dog whistle racism and classism masquerading as business practice," the Black Queer and Intersectional Collective wrote in response to an Ohio bar's dress code—and they and many others say it's disingenuous to pretend otherwise.

"That's what's so insidious about institutionalized racism, it's set up in a way that you're gaslighted right away," Toronto artist Isis Salam previously told VICE about the "dress codes" at the city's nightclubs. "If you say something, they'll be like 'What do you mean, there's a black guy already in there,' because they've already hit their two-black-guy quota. You can't even call them out about it, even though you can clearly see that it's not really about capacity or about dress code."

And, as Grant and Dallas learned, dress codes aren't equally applied to all patrons. In 2009, a group of students from Washington University in St. Louis filed complaints with the Chicago Human Rights Commission, the Illinois Attorney General, the U.S. Department of Justice, alleging that a bar in Chicago allowed more than 200 white students to enter, while stopping six of their Black classmates at the door.

The manager of The Original Mother's reportedly told the Black students that their jeans were too baggy to meet the dress code, but when Jordan Roberts, who is white, literally traded pants with Regis Murayi, who is Black, Roberts was allowed in—even though Murayi had been turned away just minutes earlier for wearing the same pair of jeans. (The bar later issued an apology to the students and agreed to undergo diversity training conducted by the Anti-Defamation League.)

For a study published in the journal Sociology of Race and Ethnicity, Texas A&M University professors Reuben A. Buford May and Pat Rubio Goldsmith selected six male volunteers—two white, two Black, and two Hispanic—chose their wardrobes, and sent them to 53 different nightclubs in Austin, Dallas, and Houston, Texas to see who would be allowed to enter and who wouldn't.

The men, who were all between the ages of 21 and 23, were separated into three pairs. For each twosome, one would be dressed in polo shirts, casual shoes, and crisp jeans, while the other wore a brightly colored t-shirt under a hoodie, a long necklace with a medallion, and athletic shoes. The pairs were sent to the nightclubs at staggered intervals during peak evening hours. Disappointingly, but not surprisingly, bouncers turned the Black men away 11.7 percent of the time, at about twice the rate of the white and Hispanic men. who were each denied entry 5.7 percent of the time.

The Black men reported that they were told that their attire didn't meet the dress code, despite the fact that similarly dressed white and Hispanic men were allowed to enter the same club. The Black and Hispanic men were also told to tuck in their necklaces five times, compared to once among the white participants. In his book, Urban Nightlife: Entertaining Race, Class, and Culture in Public Space, Dr. May suggests that dress codes have become a "mechanism through which a broader system of segregation is supported."

"[T]he dress codes are 'color blind' measures in which they simply focus on styles of dress. Yet because African-American men in particular have adopted these styles, they are disproportionately affected by the implementation and enforcement of these policies," he wrote.

"White patrons who simply wear styles of dress reflected in their middle-class upbringing benefit in that they need not consider dress codes. Although some African-American men are able to 'crack the code' given their middle-class backgrounds, 'color blind' dress codes continue to affect African-American men disproportionately. Thus some scholars indicate that 'color blind' racism is more pernicious than overtly racist discriminatory practices existing during periods in American history like Jim Crow."

Back in Baltimore, the fallout from Ouzo Bay's haphazardly applied policy has continued. In an op-ed for the Baltimore Sun, Maryland State Senator Jill Carter wrote that she had "witnessed racial discrimination firsthand" at two of Atlas Restaurant Group's other properties, and she has called for a citywide boycott of all 15 of its properties.

"There’s a pattern and practice of discrimination with Atlas,” she told CBS Baltimore on Monday. "If you do not want to have business from Black people in a majority-Black city, this is not the right city where you should profit." (In a statement, Atlas said that it was "incredibly unfair and unwarranted" for Carter to refer to the organization as racist.)

Atlas has since dropped the dress codes at the two restaurants it operates inside the Four Seasons Baltimore, a decision that came after the hotel said that it was "appalled by" what had happened to Grant and her son. "[W]e have shared our dismay about the event at Ouzo Bay with the leadership team at ARG as they work to ensure a culture of respect and inclusion at all of their restaurants," it wrote.

Grant has retained an attorney and is planning a lawsuit against the restaurant group, despite the belated mea culpa from Atlas CEO Alex Smith. "I want the opportunity to meet [Dallas]," he told the Sun. "I want the opportunity to be a mentor to him. I want the opportunity to apologize to him and Marcia.”

A spokesperson for the Grants shrugged that right off. "We are beyond an apology,” she said. “Mentor him about what? ... Maybe Dallas should mentor him.”

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[melodymgill49801]

Restaurant Dress Codes Have Long Been a Tool for Racist Discrimination

Last Sunday, Martha Grant went to the Ouzo Bay restaurant in Baltimore with her 9-year-old son, Dallas. The two of them waited for a seat on the restaurant's outdoor terrace, before a tie-and-mask wearing host told them that he was very sorry, but Dallas' T-shirt and shorts didn't meet the restaurant's dress code.

In the video that she shared on social media, Dallas was dressed like, well, a 9-year-old boy, wearing a black Air Jordan T-shirt, a pair of black shorts, and sneakers. Although Grant and her son, who are Black, were denied a seat, a white boy wearing a similar outfit had been allowed to eat at Ouzo Bay with his own family.

"Why does he get to wear athletic wear and my son can't?" Grant asks in her video. "I just want to know why it's different for my son?" (The wide-eyed host repeated that he would "love for" Grant and Dallas to come back to eat another time, but the restaurant didn't allow "athletic" attire—and he said that he didn't consider the white child's T-shirt to be "athletic.")

"We had to leave. They would not let my son in,” Grant said. “He’s 9 years old. It was so hard for him. He goes to a school that’s about 70 percent white. They always teach the kids they are the same. It was really hard for Dallas to see a kid that looked like one of his friends at school sit and eat there and he couldn’t.”

Atlas Restaurant Group, which owns Ouzo Bay, issued a statement apologizing to Grant for the "incredibly disturbing incident," confirming that the manager involved had been placed on indefinite leave, and pledging to teach itself important lessons from its own discriminatory policies.

"[T]his past weekend's incident at Ouzo Bay clearly serves as a moment that we will learn from and create change," it wrote. "As a result, we immediately revised our dress code policy so that children 12 years old and younger who are accompanied by an adult will not be subject to a dress code at any Atlas property."

But this wasn't an isolated incident. Last September, Atlas Restaurant Group was widely criticized for the discriminatory dress code at The Choptank, another of its properties in Baltimore. The Choptank posted signs on its doors, warning would-be patrons that it would not allow entry to those in baggy clothing, athletic attire, brimless headgear, backwards or sideways hats, or work and construction boots, among a handful of other restrictions. A note on the sign said that management would enforce the policies "within its discretion."

The Chophouse faced a significant amount of backlash, including from the entire Baltimore Sun Editorial Board, which urged the restaurant to "immediately" rethink those rules. "Sure, the dress code doesn’t explicitly say that African Americans or other minorities aren’t welcome at the eatery," they wrote. "But the way the code is written definitely leaves the impression that is the group of patrons the Atlas Restaurant Group, owner of the crab house and several other Baltimore restaurants, is trying to target."

The restaurant made some minor edits to its policies, like allowing athletic wear before 10 p.m. and changing its restriction on "excessively baggy clothing" to a requirement that "pants must be worn at the waist."

"We're trying to keep an upscale atmosphere for our guests and we want to give them the best possible experience," Atlas Restaurant Group CEO Alex Smith said at the time. "We're going to enforce it for everybody—it doesn't matter what race, ethnicity or creed. We're not going to budge on that." (Smith's father is Dr. Frederick Smith, a vice president and director at the ultra-conservative Sinclair Broadcast Group.)

Atlas' response to the incident with Grant and her son reads as equally opaque in regards to the group's reasoning behind its policies. "[T]he dress code is too racist to be applied to children 12 and under, but not too racist for ages 13 and up?" one Twitter response read.

Dress code policies are perhaps the last "acceptable" way for restaurants and bars to scrutinize and discriminate against Black patrons, and those "at the discretion of management" disclaimers just serve to underline their purpose. (None have made their intent more clear than a Chicago pizza joint that wrote "if denied entry, changing your appearance will not change the decision" at the bottom of its own list of restrictions.)

"It is dog whistle racism and classism masquerading as business practice," the Black Queer and Intersectional Collective wrote in response to an Ohio bar's dress code—and they and many others say it's disingenuous to pretend otherwise.

"That's what's so insidious about institutionalized racism, it's set up in a way that you're gaslighted right away," Toronto artist Isis Salam previously told VICE about the "dress codes" at the city's nightclubs. "If you say something, they'll be like 'What do you mean, there's a black guy already in there,' because they've already hit their two-black-guy quota. You can't even call them out about it, even though you can clearly see that it's not really about capacity or about dress code."

And, as Grant and Dallas learned, dress codes aren't equally applied to all patrons. In 2009, a group of students from Washington University in St. Louis filed complaints with the Chicago Human Rights Commission, the Illinois Attorney General, the U.S. Department of Justice, alleging that a bar in Chicago allowed more than 200 white students to enter, while stopping six of their Black classmates at the door.

The manager of The Original Mother's reportedly told the Black students that their jeans were too baggy to meet the dress code, but when Jordan Roberts, who is white, literally traded pants with Regis Murayi, who is Black, Roberts was allowed in—even though Murayi had been turned away just minutes earlier for wearing the same pair of jeans. (The bar later issued an apology to the students and agreed to undergo diversity training conducted by the Anti-Defamation League.)

For a study published in the journal Sociology of Race and Ethnicity, Texas A&M University professors Reuben A. Buford May and Pat Rubio Goldsmith selected six male volunteers—two white, two Black, and two Hispanic—chose their wardrobes, and sent them to 53 different nightclubs in Austin, Dallas, and Houston, Texas to see who would be allowed to enter and who wouldn't.

The men, who were all between the ages of 21 and 23, were separated into three pairs. For each twosome, one would be dressed in polo shirts, casual shoes, and crisp jeans, while the other wore a brightly colored t-shirt under a hoodie, a long necklace with a medallion, and athletic shoes. The pairs were sent to the nightclubs at staggered intervals during peak evening hours. Disappointingly, but not surprisingly, bouncers turned the Black men away 11.7 percent of the time, at about twice the rate of the white and Hispanic men. who were each denied entry 5.7 percent of the time.

The Black men reported that they were told that their attire didn't meet the dress code, despite the fact that similarly dressed white and Hispanic men were allowed to enter the same club. The Black and Hispanic men were also told to tuck in their necklaces five times, compared to once among the white participants. In his book, Urban Nightlife: Entertaining Race, Class, and Culture in Public Space, Dr. May suggests that dress codes have become a "mechanism through which a broader system of segregation is supported."

"[T]he dress codes are 'color blind' measures in which they simply focus on styles of dress. Yet because African-American men in particular have adopted these styles, they are disproportionately affected by the implementation and enforcement of these policies," he wrote.

"White patrons who simply wear styles of dress reflected in their middle-class upbringing benefit in that they need not consider dress codes. Although some African-American men are able to 'crack the code' given their middle-class backgrounds, 'color blind' dress codes continue to affect African-American men disproportionately. Thus some scholars indicate that 'color blind' racism is more pernicious than overtly racist discriminatory practices existing during periods in American history like Jim Crow."

Back in Baltimore, the fallout from Ouzo Bay's haphazardly applied policy has continued. In an op-ed for the Baltimore Sun, Maryland State Senator Jill Carter wrote that she had "witnessed racial discrimination firsthand" at two of Atlas Restaurant Group's other properties, and she has called for a citywide boycott of all 15 of its properties.

"There’s a pattern and practice of discrimination with Atlas,” she told CBS Baltimore on Monday. "If you do not want to have business from Black people in a majority-Black city, this is not the right city where you should profit." (In a statement, Atlas said that it was "incredibly unfair and unwarranted" for Carter to refer to the organization as racist.)

Atlas has since dropped the dress codes at the two restaurants it operates inside the Four Seasons Baltimore, a decision that came after the hotel said that it was "appalled by" what had happened to Grant and her son. "[W]e have shared our dismay about the event at Ouzo Bay with the leadership team at ARG as they work to ensure a culture of respect and inclusion at all of their restaurants," it wrote.

Grant has retained an attorney and is planning a lawsuit against the restaurant group, despite the belated mea culpa from Atlas CEO Alex Smith. "I want the opportunity to meet [Dallas]," he told the Sun. "I want the opportunity to be a mentor to him. I want the opportunity to apologize to him and Marcia.”

A spokesperson for the Grants shrugged that right off. "We are beyond an apology,” she said. “Mentor him about what? ... Maybe Dallas should mentor him.”

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[carolinechanson97838]

Restaurant Dress Codes Have Long Been a Tool for Racist Discrimination

Last Sunday, Martha Grant went to the Ouzo Bay restaurant in Baltimore with her 9-year-old son, Dallas. The two of them waited for a seat on the restaurant's outdoor terrace, before a tie-and-mask wearing host told them that he was very sorry, but Dallas' T-shirt and shorts didn't meet the restaurant's dress code.

In the video that she shared on social media, Dallas was dressed like, well, a 9-year-old boy, wearing a black Air Jordan T-shirt, a pair of black shorts, and sneakers. Although Grant and her son, who are Black, were denied a seat, a white boy wearing a similar outfit had been allowed to eat at Ouzo Bay with his own family.

"Why does he get to wear athletic wear and my son can't?" Grant asks in her video. "I just want to know why it's different for my son?" (The wide-eyed host repeated that he would "love for" Grant and Dallas to come back to eat another time, but the restaurant didn't allow "athletic" attire—and he said that he didn't consider the white child's T-shirt to be "athletic.")

"We had to leave. They would not let my son in,” Grant said. “He’s 9 years old. It was so hard for him. He goes to a school that’s about 70 percent white. They always teach the kids they are the same. It was really hard for Dallas to see a kid that looked like one of his friends at school sit and eat there and he couldn’t.”

Atlas Restaurant Group, which owns Ouzo Bay, issued a statement apologizing to Grant for the "incredibly disturbing incident," confirming that the manager involved had been placed on indefinite leave, and pledging to teach itself important lessons from its own discriminatory policies.

"[T]his past weekend's incident at Ouzo Bay clearly serves as a moment that we will learn from and create change," it wrote. "As a result, we immediately revised our dress code policy so that children 12 years old and younger who are accompanied by an adult will not be subject to a dress code at any Atlas property."

But this wasn't an isolated incident. Last September, Atlas Restaurant Group was widely criticized for the discriminatory dress code at The Choptank, another of its properties in Baltimore. The Choptank posted signs on its doors, warning would-be patrons that it would not allow entry to those in baggy clothing, athletic attire, brimless headgear, backwards or sideways hats, or work and construction boots, among a handful of other restrictions. A note on the sign said that management would enforce the policies "within its discretion."

The Chophouse faced a significant amount of backlash, including from the entire Baltimore Sun Editorial Board, which urged the restaurant to "immediately" rethink those rules. "Sure, the dress code doesn’t explicitly say that African Americans or other minorities aren’t welcome at the eatery," they wrote. "But the way the code is written definitely leaves the impression that is the group of patrons the Atlas Restaurant Group, owner of the crab house and several other Baltimore restaurants, is trying to target."

The restaurant made some minor edits to its policies, like allowing athletic wear before 10 p.m. and changing its restriction on "excessively baggy clothing" to a requirement that "pants must be worn at the waist."

"We're trying to keep an upscale atmosphere for our guests and we want to give them the best possible experience," Atlas Restaurant Group CEO Alex Smith said at the time. "We're going to enforce it for everybody—it doesn't matter what race, ethnicity or creed. We're not going to budge on that." (Smith's father is Dr. Frederick Smith, a vice president and director at the ultra-conservative Sinclair Broadcast Group.)

Atlas' response to the incident with Grant and her son reads as equally opaque in regards to the group's reasoning behind its policies. "[T]he dress code is too racist to be applied to children 12 and under, but not too racist for ages 13 and up?" one Twitter response read.

Dress code policies are perhaps the last "acceptable" way for restaurants and bars to scrutinize and discriminate against Black patrons, and those "at the discretion of management" disclaimers just serve to underline their purpose. (None have made their intent more clear than a Chicago pizza joint that wrote "if denied entry, changing your appearance will not change the decision" at the bottom of its own list of restrictions.)

"It is dog whistle racism and classism masquerading as business practice," the Black Queer and Intersectional Collective wrote in response to an Ohio bar's dress code—and they and many others say it's disingenuous to pretend otherwise.

"That's what's so insidious about institutionalized racism, it's set up in a way that you're gaslighted right away," Toronto artist Isis Salam previously told VICE about the "dress codes" at the city's nightclubs. "If you say something, they'll be like 'What do you mean, there's a black guy already in there,' because they've already hit their two-black-guy quota. You can't even call them out about it, even though you can clearly see that it's not really about capacity or about dress code."

And, as Grant and Dallas learned, dress codes aren't equally applied to all patrons. In 2009, a group of students from Washington University in St. Louis filed complaints with the Chicago Human Rights Commission, the Illinois Attorney General, the U.S. Department of Justice, alleging that a bar in Chicago allowed more than 200 white students to enter, while stopping six of their Black classmates at the door.

The manager of The Original Mother's reportedly told the Black students that their jeans were too baggy to meet the dress code, but when Jordan Roberts, who is white, literally traded pants with Regis Murayi, who is Black, Roberts was allowed in—even though Murayi had been turned away just minutes earlier for wearing the same pair of jeans. (The bar later issued an apology to the students and agreed to undergo diversity training conducted by the Anti-Defamation League.)

For a study published in the journal Sociology of Race and Ethnicity, Texas A&M University professors Reuben A. Buford May and Pat Rubio Goldsmith selected six male volunteers—two white, two Black, and two Hispanic—chose their wardrobes, and sent them to 53 different nightclubs in Austin, Dallas, and Houston, Texas to see who would be allowed to enter and who wouldn't.

The men, who were all between the ages of 21 and 23, were separated into three pairs. For each twosome, one would be dressed in polo shirts, casual shoes, and crisp jeans, while the other wore a brightly colored t-shirt under a hoodie, a long necklace with a medallion, and athletic shoes. The pairs were sent to the nightclubs at staggered intervals during peak evening hours. Disappointingly, but not surprisingly, bouncers turned the Black men away 11.7 percent of the time, at about twice the rate of the white and Hispanic men. who were each denied entry 5.7 percent of the time.

The Black men reported that they were told that their attire didn't meet the dress code, despite the fact that similarly dressed white and Hispanic men were allowed to enter the same club. The Black and Hispanic men were also told to tuck in their necklaces five times, compared to once among the white participants. In his book, Urban Nightlife: Entertaining Race, Class, and Culture in Public Space, Dr. May suggests that dress codes have become a "mechanism through which a broader system of segregation is supported."

"[T]he dress codes are 'color blind' measures in which they simply focus on styles of dress. Yet because African-American men in particular have adopted these styles, they are disproportionately affected by the implementation and enforcement of these policies," he wrote.

"White patrons who simply wear styles of dress reflected in their middle-class upbringing benefit in that they need not consider dress codes. Although some African-American men are able to 'crack the code' given their middle-class backgrounds, 'color blind' dress codes continue to affect African-American men disproportionately. Thus some scholars indicate that 'color blind' racism is more pernicious than overtly racist discriminatory practices existing during periods in American history like Jim Crow."

Back in Baltimore, the fallout from Ouzo Bay's haphazardly applied policy has continued. In an op-ed for the Baltimore Sun, Maryland State Senator Jill Carter wrote that she had "witnessed racial discrimination firsthand" at two of Atlas Restaurant Group's other properties, and she has called for a citywide boycott of all 15 of its properties.

"There’s a pattern and practice of discrimination with Atlas,” she told CBS Baltimore on Monday. "If you do not want to have business from Black people in a majority-Black city, this is not the right city where you should profit." (In a statement, Atlas said that it was "incredibly unfair and unwarranted" for Carter to refer to the organization as racist.)

Atlas has since dropped the dress codes at the two restaurants it operates inside the Four Seasons Baltimore, a decision that came after the hotel said that it was "appalled by" what had happened to Grant and her son. "[W]e have shared our dismay about the event at Ouzo Bay with the leadership team at ARG as they work to ensure a culture of respect and inclusion at all of their restaurants," it wrote.

Grant has retained an attorney and is planning a lawsuit against the restaurant group, despite the belated mea culpa from Atlas CEO Alex Smith. "I want the opportunity to meet [Dallas]," he told the Sun. "I want the opportunity to be a mentor to him. I want the opportunity to apologize to him and Marcia.”

A spokesperson for the Grants shrugged that right off. "We are beyond an apology,” she said. “Mentor him about what? ... Maybe Dallas should mentor him.”

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[latoyajkelson70506]

Restaurant Dress Codes Have Long Been a Tool for Racist Discrimination

Last Sunday, Martha Grant went to the Ouzo Bay restaurant in Baltimore with her 9-year-old son, Dallas. The two of them waited for a seat on the restaurant's outdoor terrace, before a tie-and-mask wearing host told them that he was very sorry, but Dallas' T-shirt and shorts didn't meet the restaurant's dress code.

In the video that she shared on social media, Dallas was dressed like, well, a 9-year-old boy, wearing a black Air Jordan T-shirt, a pair of black shorts, and sneakers. Although Grant and her son, who are Black, were denied a seat, a white boy wearing a similar outfit had been allowed to eat at Ouzo Bay with his own family.

"Why does he get to wear athletic wear and my son can't?" Grant asks in her video. "I just want to know why it's different for my son?" (The wide-eyed host repeated that he would "love for" Grant and Dallas to come back to eat another time, but the restaurant didn't allow "athletic" attire—and he said that he didn't consider the white child's T-shirt to be "athletic.")

"We had to leave. They would not let my son in,” Grant said. “He’s 9 years old. It was so hard for him. He goes to a school that’s about 70 percent white. They always teach the kids they are the same. It was really hard for Dallas to see a kid that looked like one of his friends at school sit and eat there and he couldn’t.”

Atlas Restaurant Group, which owns Ouzo Bay, issued a statement apologizing to Grant for the "incredibly disturbing incident," confirming that the manager involved had been placed on indefinite leave, and pledging to teach itself important lessons from its own discriminatory policies.

"[T]his past weekend's incident at Ouzo Bay clearly serves as a moment that we will learn from and create change," it wrote. "As a result, we immediately revised our dress code policy so that children 12 years old and younger who are accompanied by an adult will not be subject to a dress code at any Atlas property."

But this wasn't an isolated incident. Last September, Atlas Restaurant Group was widely criticized for the discriminatory dress code at The Choptank, another of its properties in Baltimore. The Choptank posted signs on its doors, warning would-be patrons that it would not allow entry to those in baggy clothing, athletic attire, brimless headgear, backwards or sideways hats, or work and construction boots, among a handful of other restrictions. A note on the sign said that management would enforce the policies "within its discretion."

The Chophouse faced a significant amount of backlash, including from the entire Baltimore Sun Editorial Board, which urged the restaurant to "immediately" rethink those rules. "Sure, the dress code doesn’t explicitly say that African Americans or other minorities aren’t welcome at the eatery," they wrote. "But the way the code is written definitely leaves the impression that is the group of patrons the Atlas Restaurant Group, owner of the crab house and several other Baltimore restaurants, is trying to target."

The restaurant made some minor edits to its policies, like allowing athletic wear before 10 p.m. and changing its restriction on "excessively baggy clothing" to a requirement that "pants must be worn at the waist."

"We're trying to keep an upscale atmosphere for our guests and we want to give them the best possible experience," Atlas Restaurant Group CEO Alex Smith said at the time. "We're going to enforce it for everybody—it doesn't matter what race, ethnicity or creed. We're not going to budge on that." (Smith's father is Dr. Frederick Smith, a vice president and director at the ultra-conservative Sinclair Broadcast Group.)

Atlas' response to the incident with Grant and her son reads as equally opaque in regards to the group's reasoning behind its policies. "[T]he dress code is too racist to be applied to children 12 and under, but not too racist for ages 13 and up?" one Twitter response read.

Dress code policies are perhaps the last "acceptable" way for restaurants and bars to scrutinize and discriminate against Black patrons, and those "at the discretion of management" disclaimers just serve to underline their purpose. (None have made their intent more clear than a Chicago pizza joint that wrote "if denied entry, changing your appearance will not change the decision" at the bottom of its own list of restrictions.)

"It is dog whistle racism and classism masquerading as business practice," the Black Queer and Intersectional Collective wrote in response to an Ohio bar's dress code—and they and many others say it's disingenuous to pretend otherwise.

"That's what's so insidious about institutionalized racism, it's set up in a way that you're gaslighted right away," Toronto artist Isis Salam previously told VICE about the "dress codes" at the city's nightclubs. "If you say something, they'll be like 'What do you mean, there's a black guy already in there,' because they've already hit their two-black-guy quota. You can't even call them out about it, even though you can clearly see that it's not really about capacity or about dress code."

And, as Grant and Dallas learned, dress codes aren't equally applied to all patrons. In 2009, a group of students from Washington University in St. Louis filed complaints with the Chicago Human Rights Commission, the Illinois Attorney General, the U.S. Department of Justice, alleging that a bar in Chicago allowed more than 200 white students to enter, while stopping six of their Black classmates at the door.

The manager of The Original Mother's reportedly told the Black students that their jeans were too baggy to meet the dress code, but when Jordan Roberts, who is white, literally traded pants with Regis Murayi, who is Black, Roberts was allowed in—even though Murayi had been turned away just minutes earlier for wearing the same pair of jeans. (The bar later issued an apology to the students and agreed to undergo diversity training conducted by the Anti-Defamation League.)

For a study published in the journal Sociology of Race and Ethnicity, Texas A&M University professors Reuben A. Buford May and Pat Rubio Goldsmith selected six male volunteers—two white, two Black, and two Hispanic—chose their wardrobes, and sent them to 53 different nightclubs in Austin, Dallas, and Houston, Texas to see who would be allowed to enter and who wouldn't.

The men, who were all between the ages of 21 and 23, were separated into three pairs. For each twosome, one would be dressed in polo shirts, casual shoes, and crisp jeans, while the other wore a brightly colored t-shirt under a hoodie, a long necklace with a medallion, and athletic shoes. The pairs were sent to the nightclubs at staggered intervals during peak evening hours. Disappointingly, but not surprisingly, bouncers turned the Black men away 11.7 percent of the time, at about twice the rate of the white and Hispanic men. who were each denied entry 5.7 percent of the time.

The Black men reported that they were told that their attire didn't meet the dress code, despite the fact that similarly dressed white and Hispanic men were allowed to enter the same club. The Black and Hispanic men were also told to tuck in their necklaces five times, compared to once among the white participants. In his book, Urban Nightlife: Entertaining Race, Class, and Culture in Public Space, Dr. May suggests that dress codes have become a "mechanism through which a broader system of segregation is supported."

"[T]he dress codes are 'color blind' measures in which they simply focus on styles of dress. Yet because African-American men in particular have adopted these styles, they are disproportionately affected by the implementation and enforcement of these policies," he wrote.

"White patrons who simply wear styles of dress reflected in their middle-class upbringing benefit in that they need not consider dress codes. Although some African-American men are able to 'crack the code' given their middle-class backgrounds, 'color blind' dress codes continue to affect African-American men disproportionately. Thus some scholars indicate that 'color blind' racism is more pernicious than overtly racist discriminatory practices existing during periods in American history like Jim Crow."

Back in Baltimore, the fallout from Ouzo Bay's haphazardly applied policy has continued. In an op-ed for the Baltimore Sun, Maryland State Senator Jill Carter wrote that she had "witnessed racial discrimination firsthand" at two of Atlas Restaurant Group's other properties, and she has called for a citywide boycott of all 15 of its properties.

"There’s a pattern and practice of discrimination with Atlas,” she told CBS Baltimore on Monday. "If you do not want to have business from Black people in a majority-Black city, this is not the right city where you should profit." (In a statement, Atlas said that it was "incredibly unfair and unwarranted" for Carter to refer to the organization as racist.)

Atlas has since dropped the dress codes at the two restaurants it operates inside the Four Seasons Baltimore, a decision that came after the hotel said that it was "appalled by" what had happened to Grant and her son. "[W]e have shared our dismay about the event at Ouzo Bay with the leadership team at ARG as they work to ensure a culture of respect and inclusion at all of their restaurants," it wrote.

Grant has retained an attorney and is planning a lawsuit against the restaurant group, despite the belated mea culpa from Atlas CEO Alex Smith. "I want the opportunity to meet [Dallas]," he told the Sun. "I want the opportunity to be a mentor to him. I want the opportunity to apologize to him and Marcia.”

A spokesperson for the Grants shrugged that right off. "We are beyond an apology,” she said. “Mentor him about what? ... Maybe Dallas should mentor him.”

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