#this is a really nice insight to how he is in spoken interviews for reports i think

[1llusionmachine]

From Matt Wilkinson's Tiktok (x)

[maple-writes]

WHG 14: Boat 3

tagging @ratracechronicler (Elvira, Rebecca) @concealeddarkness13 (Nesri, Lynne, Zenith, Triel) and @pen-of-roses (Rowan, Lynn)

###

The others trickled back into the room, waking me slowly and giving me just enough time to rub some of the tiredness out of my eyes before everyone was gathered. In such a small room we were crammed together pretty close, making it feel all the more tiny.

Once everyone was accounted for, Rowan gave Zenith a defeated look. “I hope your end went better than mine?”

Zenith grimaced. “I found where Evie, Alastair and Poli are staying, but Evie somehow saw both me and Alastair wearing Peacekeeper uniforms, and she’s scared to get close.”

Rowan sighed. “Lynn didn’t buy, or at least didn’t say the Peacekeeper story, but he seemed convinced I wasn’t real somehow. Either it wasn’t me, someone was pretending to be me, or…” They shook their head. “I don’t even know but it’s not looking good.”

Was that what Zenith’s old friends were talking about? “The capitol suspected we might be here.” I paused as everyone looked at me. “I heard they had plans to stop us.”

“Is that why Lynn looked at me like a rotten fish carcass and not a knight in shining armor?” Rebecca winced at some memory. “Great.”

Elvira though, looked more thoughtful. “She looked at you and thought you were wearing Peacekeeper uniforms or thought she’d seen you in them at some earlier time?” She looked to Zenith, waiting for an answer.

“She asked me why I was wearing a Peacekeeper uniform. But she didn’t seem particularly surprised. The Capitol must have already been lying to her.” He frowned. “we might want to change our plans a little. We won’t be able to rescue them tonight.”

My shoulders fell. That wasn’t good. A whole other day stuck here on the ship? And what if even after that we couldn’t do anything, couldn’t figure out what was wrong with them? What then?

Triel sighed dramatically. “And after I went through all that trouble to book an appointment with Snow tonight.”

“We will rescue them though, right?” Rowan’s voice tightened, and even from across the room I could feel hints of panic ebbing from him, prickling cold against my cheeks.

Zenith nodded. “We just need to figure out what the Capitol is doing. Hopefully, we can still rescue them during this party.”

But Rebecca was still focused on Triel, a frown playing on her face. “Appointment?”

Triel nodded. “I’ve been pretending to be a Capitol reporting for a few weeks, and I’ve even published some interviews wit the stylists and a few mentors. I built up that persona so I could get close to Snow without too much suspicion. I asked to interview him tonight, but the appointment was really for his dunk into the lake.”

“The appointment could still be good though,” Rowan started slowly, thoughtfully. “Get a better insight into tomorrow’s events maybe? Or learn more about the ship, or…”

“I might need the help of my lovely assistant, however,” Triel looked over to Elvira with a smirk.

Elvira replied, “How about two or five?”

Triel cocked her head with a rare look of confusion. “If anyone else in this gang shows up, he’ll probably recognize them from the Games.”

Beside me, Cirrus grinned, reaching into his pocket for a folded scrap of paper. That grin could only mean he’d been up to something. “If you need someone he wouldn’t see I might have someone.” He handed the paper towards her and confirmed my suspicion. “Her name’s Amy, on of the avoxes on board. She wrote this out for me earlier and seems in on the plan.”

An avox? I half frowned. What happened to having to ignore the staff that he’d drilled into us at the apartment?

But Triel didn’t seem worried, eyes shining with excitement. “Perfect, I’ll make sure to recruit her to the president overboard gang.”

“Oh.” Elvira blinked. “I actually met some of my old friends—they’re national thieves and pirates at large and unknown to the government. They’re here to rob the place. I struc up an accord with them. One in particular would very much favor a… Bit of a ruckus. But Amy works too.”

I wrinkled my eyebrows. How many pirates could there be at one state-sanctioned event? But before I could figure out a more polite phrasing, Cirrus spoke again.

“At the very least she could get you in. I haven’t spoken to her about actually pushing anyone.” He paused, sighing as his shoulders sloped and his voice softened. “She was on stage with Lynne. I don’t want her to get hurt again.”

Some of the others flinched, as if remembering something painful. Cirrus had said something about that broadcast being harsh, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about an avox.

Triel nodded. “Thank you.” T hen to Elvira, she added, “I do think I would need some more assistants, especially if they are our mutual friends.”

"Captain Skeates will gladly help defy the Capitol, especially if I ask, and the others will follow her lead.” Elvira said. “She's a genius, as you likely know, Quartermaster Chaudhary has the guns, and Mirabel has the gadgets. Tell me what you need us to do."

Triel’s eyes shone. “Oh, I simply must have more assistants. I haven’t seen them in a year.”

What were the odds, these pirates knew our pirates. I’d never thought I’d ever meet one pirate, let alone this many. Was there anyone on this ship that wasn’t a pirate? Wait. I sat up. I’d almost forgot about what happened with Zenith’s team.

“Whatever you do, try and push him off the right side of boat. I convinced—” My eyes flickered to Zenith for a second. Would they want him to know? Would he be upset if he knew? “—Some security, to move some safety equipment away from the area.”

Rebecca sat up proudly. “You mean the starboard side?” She looked around, as if pleased to show everyone she knew what it was called.

“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I just told them the right side.”

Rowan scoffed. “I don’t know whether to be happy that worked or even more irritated with them that they moved it.”

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Zenith watching me, eyes narrowed and posture stiff. I quickly looked away, trying not to meet his eyes. He probably knew. He’d be smart enough to put it together.

“I found an old friend, and he’s invited us to meet the captain.” Nesri interjected. “He stays they will held. And he’s a horrible liar, so I trust him.”

“Ooh yeah!” Rebecca agreed. “lets kinda leave at different times and go different routes so we don’t draw attention to us as a group, right? The captain’s at the bridge I’m assuming?” She paused just a second, almost not noticeable. “That raised bit kinda near the back of the yacht up on top with the windows?”

Good. I would have had no idea what the bridge meant. It sounded familiar though, her description.

Nesri nodded and paired up with Zenith, and Triel decided to walk with Elvira.

“Meet in ten minutes?” I asked, making sure to give myself enough time to remember where I’d seen the bridge.

The others agreed, and we staggered our leaving. I left with Cirrus, taking the long way around the outside of the ship alongside the deck railings. If it weren’t the president’s ship it would have been a nice walk. The breeze off the lake carried the smell of fresh water, cool and light. But it wouldn’t last. We had to go back inside when we got closer to the bridge, back into the metal halls and artificial lights.

When everyone was gathered, Nesri’s friend let us into the bridge to meet the captain. He led us through a room filled with all kinds of navigational instruments, glowing switchboards, radio equipment and a whole range of equipment I didn’t recognize, straight to the person at the helm.

They turned around and I couldn’t help but stare. They wore a pristine navel uniform without as much of a hint of a wrinkle, perfectly shined shoes, and perfectly placed hair, and perfect posture. Both eyes were covered with sleek eyepatches, and a brightly coloured parrot sat on their shoulder in it’s own perfectly tailored uniform. I leaned forward just a bit. The parrot… It’s uniform looked like it had a slightly different insignia.

“Hello Captain Reeves!” Nesri’s friend grinned and waved. “I wanted to introduce you to some people who aren’t Capitol puppets.”

The parrot looked first, head cocked and pupils dilating. “Yo ho ho.”

The captain turned too, frowning. “You brought rebels in here?” They paused, long and silent save for the whirring of navigational monitors. Then they smiled. “Brilliant! What do they need help with?”

I glanced between them and the parrot, not sure who to focus one. The captain had been the one to speak, but the parrot… It was like it was looking right through me. It was looking right at us.

Nesri laughed, failing at keeping it in, but Zenith seemed to fare better. “Do you know anything about any of the guests being forced to see other guest differently than they should, Captain Reeves?”

The captain burst out laughing, loud and booming in the small room. “The parrot doesn’t know anything but navigation! She’s Captain Reeves, and my name is Smith. Now about what you asked, I do have a machine that sends some data to a place on the mainland. But I have no access to the data.”

Again, I glanced between them before cautiously settling on Reeves. “Does, does Reeves have access?” Would it be rude to not have addressed her directly?

“Or do you know anyone who does?” Elvira added.

“Neither of us have access.” Smith said. “Don’t know if you meddling with the machine would do you any good anyway. But...” they paused, seemingly only for dramatic affect. “I did hear some idiot Peacekeeper talking about how this big machine—” they gestured to one off to the side, “gets data from these small machines that were integrated into the shockers that the tributes wear. If you could figure out how to disable those smaller machines, you’d be able to stop them from seeing things you don’t want.”

Captain Reeves bobbed up and down on Smith’s shoulder, wings flapping out at her sides. “Yo ho ho!”

The conversation shifted, moving on to how best to tackle the new challenge. Luckily it seemed like Shine might be able to devise some kind of work around, they just needed time. Most of it went over my head, talking about technology and devices and disablers. Clearly nothing was going to get done anytime soon and nothing I’d be particularly helpful with.

I excused myself from the bridge and made my way back to the room. There seemed to be some kind of game show going on in the main room now, with Ceasar hosting on stage and contestants chosen from within the crowd. I slowed as I passed, eyes glued on him standing, standing there in the center of the stage. This time it was Lynn up there with him, forced to smile and play nice with the lucky volunteers on stage. Resentment burned deep enough to simmer in the marrow of my bones. How dare he. My fingers curled, nails sharper than they should be as I glared.

The lights flickered and I forced a deep breath. Relax. Keep it together, just another day. I kept my head down and went straight back to our room.

#

Some of the others didn’t come back right away, busy somewhere else on the ship figuring out electronics or scouting, or something. I hadn’t really paid full attention, all I knew was that I wasn’t alone in the room anymore and couldn’t seem to fall asleep again. Ever since coming back from trying to figure out Laurel’s trackers though, Rowan and Zenith had been quiet. Neither seemed much up to talk, Rowan seeming especially down and tired after what must have been a whole ordeal. Fair enough.

But just as I’d gotten comfortable again under a heap of blankets, there was a knock at the door. Zenith got up and answered, readjusting his eyepatch at the last second to cover his eye again. I couldn’t see who it was on the other side of the door, but I perked up when I recognized her voice. The dragon-woman from Zenith’s old team. She said something about Lynne and Lynn attempting their own escape.

Zenith  glanced back, evaluating with his uncovered eye before turning back to them. “I’ll go stop them.”

“Wait,” I threw the blanket off and popped up to my feet, the ground spinning a little when I moved too fast. “I’ll come with you.” Nerves told me to go with him, just in case, just in case something happened. Just in case magic somehow got involved.

He studied me a moment, doubt flashing across his face strong enough I thought he would say something, tell me not to come, but then he gave in. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Him and the dragon led the way, and I had to jog a few paces to catch up with them. Were they walking fast, or was it just me? I tried my best to keep up despite the heaviness pulling at my eyes, weighing on my legs.

“When  I left, the captured tributes were trying to cut out their shockers. We were helping so they wouldn’t hurt themselves too badly, but…” the dragon trailed off, a grimace striking her face. “I don’t think that will work. The Capitol knows you cut your trackers. They won’t make the same mistake twice.”

“We should hurry.” Zenith’s voice gave nothing away, his eyes straight forward as he picked up his pace.

I realized too late, having to run again to catch up. “They didn’t hurt themselves, did they?” I stuck close to Zenith’s shoulder and glanced past him to the woman.

She shrugged. “I left before they could finish. They probably did hurt themselves, but Arque and That will make sure it’s not life threatening.”

We came to a stop, and Zenith picked up a piece of paper from the floor. He read it quickly and handed it to me. Went to the right side of the boat to help them “escape” scrawled across in hasty handwriting.

“Already?” We hadn’t taken that long to get here, had we? I turned to Zenith and the dragon. “Do you know where they would have gone?”

She nodded. “Somewhere no one would notice. A small stretch on the back of the yacht where there’s no entertainment or lights.” She smiled a little, directed at me. “Thanks for the suggestion earlier today, though. They’ll want something to help them swim properly, so the delay will help us catch up to them.”

I smiled to myself, still holding the note as we started walking again. Zenith gave me another suspicious look though and I hid my face, hunching my shoulders and staring down at the deck. The smile stayed though, wide and secret as we hurried along the outside of the ship.

It vanished though when we found them. The other two team members mocked confusion at the missing equipment, but Lynn and Lynne noticed us immediately with harsh glares.

Lynne crossed her arms. “What do you want? We’re not breaking any rules.”

I took a step closer, close as I dared under their glares and the anger strong enough to feel even though the air. Under that though, almost too faint to notice, fear prickled cold at my face too. “I,” I swallowed. “I know you want to get out of here, but please just wait a little longer.”

“You, you were with Rowan?” Lynn asked, not quite meeting my eyes.

I nodded. “We met before the games.” What had they told him about Rowan? That they’d gotten out? That they’d been captured? That they’d died, alone and cold and hungry and suffering in the snow? “They’re here too, and they’re safe.”

“Safe?” Instead of relief, Lynn spoke with contempt. “When you’re all peacekeepers?”

“What?” I blinked, stiff in place. “Oh, right.” That’s what this whole thing was about, their shockers and whatever it was that was making them see this way. What was I supposed to say? There wasn’t nearly enough time. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but we really aren’t Peacekeepers.”

Beside me, Zenith sighed and crossed his arms. He stood straight and hard, like the peacekeepers they thought we were. “I have to ask that you return your room.”

I stood taller, trying my best to mimic his posture, but judging by their reactions it wasn’t nearly as convincing. “Just for now, please.”

But Lynne only matched us, trying to intimidate us back. “Why? We’re not breaking any ules. And we’re not required to be anywhere right now.”

Zenith put one hand on his hip and hovered the other over his side. There must have been a reason, but I couldn’t begin to figure it out. “The president requires it. Please, don’t struggle.”

Neither seemed scared off though. Lynn crossed his arms and studied Zenith, and Lynne didn’t give up her glare.

“Don’t you have a shred of yourselves left in there?” She spat. “Wouldn’t you want to defy the Capitol?”

Lynn placed a hand on her arm. “What happens if we refuse to go with you?”

Zenith clicked his tongue. “The president has allowed us to use force, if needed. It would be… unfortunate if we had to do that.”

Was that, was that a threat? Tension coiled in my stomach. What was he planning? He, he wasn’t going to actually hurt them, was he? They were scared, they were desperate, it was the last thing they needed.

Lynn hummed, low and defiant. “And you haven’t because..?” He said something to Lynne, to soft for me to hear.

Zenth sighed. “Fine, you don’t believe me?” He dashed forward, grabbing on of Lynne’s arms and forcing it behind her back with a predatory glare at Lynn. “Is that considerate enough for you?”

I startled, staggering off balance at his sudden movement. Lynne struggled against his grip but there was nothing he could do and I could only stare, wide-eyed and shocked. What was he thinking? What was he doing? That was Lynne! That was Lynne. But I swallowed my horror and hurried forward, putting myself between Lynn and the other two. Just in case. If there was a fight, if there was a full on fight I didn’t want to know what would happen.

Lynn stared down at Zenith and Lynne. “I’ll go with you if you let her go.”

Zenith paused, considering for a moment before letting her go and nudging them forward. “Then let’s go”

Lynn whispered something else to Lynne, then turned to me. “Alright let’s go.”

I glanced at Zenith, following his lead to escort them back to wherever their room was. Unease knotted along  with the tension in my gut. Lynne hadn’t even seem phased by what Zenith did. Hardly even seemed shaken. What else must she have been through since capture if that didn’t even seem like all that big of a deal?

“So, what happened to those bandages?” Zenith asked, still in his harsh peacekeeper tone. “They’re suspiciously over your shockers.”

Lynn glanced at Lynne. “Accident.”

“Are you okay?” I leaned back to see the bandages. They looked hastily applied and I couldn’t quite tell how much damage there might have been beneath them. What kind of tools did they try and use? “Is it a large wound? Do you need anything for it?” Was it going to get infected?

Lynne shot Zenith another glare. “Don’t touch them. Someone else took care of them.”

“We’re fine.” Lynn agreed, glancing over to me. His expression shifted, just a little, just a little bit softer, curious. “You know, Rowan likes a very specific tea. I used to tease them about the smell being too similar to a garden for me.”

Immediately a smile spread across my face. I still couldn’t fathom how anyone could just look at a plant and know what it was the way they did back at the training center. Of course they would like something garden-scented. “I can see that, they do like their plants.” The image of Rowan with mug after mug of tea in the apartment flashed though my head. How they’d always be brewing something and offering to whoever looked like they might want some. “And their tea.”

“I still don’t believe you’re Peacekeepers.” He mumbled. “But then I don’t really believe much of what Selene tells me anymore. Are you really trying to help.”

I nodded again. “We’re all there. There’s been a snag, but we’re trying.” Who knew if he believed me, but at least he wasn’t as hostile as Lynne.

“Then why stop us?”

Zenith muttered something under his breath and I ignored him, focusing on Lynn instead. He and Lynne deserved an explanation, even if they didn’t believe us right away. “I don’t really understand it, but there’s something extra in your shockers.” I pointed at his bandage, not sure what kind of terminology they’d been using for it. “There’s something affecting your perception, and we need a little longer to figure out how to stop it.” They deserved some kind of assurance they weren’t here alone even if they wouldn’t understand until we fixed what was wrong.

All Lynn did in response was hum, and Lynne did all she could to appear like she was ignoring every word I said.

We got to their room and Zenith ushered them towards the door. “Now, don’t leave until someone tells you to. If any of the Peacekeepers see you out again, they won’t be as nice as we were.”

“Right.” Lynn muttered.

Lynne didn’t say anything. She just walked in, flipping Zenith off until she flinched with a hiss of pain and had to settle with slamming the door instead. So they had cameras in their room.

As soon as the door was closed my shoulders slumped and I sighed. “At least they stayed on board.”

Zenith watched the door a little longer. “But the shockers are still working. That must not have worked.”

He put his hand in his pocket, and pulled out a crumpled up note with a look of surprise. He handed it to me when he was done reading. Cutting them out didn’t work. The machines are clinging to their muscles. Too difficult to pull out without professional help. Sorry. That didn’t sound good.

My heart fell. “That’s not good. Although, as long as we can disable them it’ll still be good enough for now, right?” I sure hoped so.

Zenith nodded, turning away. “Let’s head back before anyone asks any questions.”

Good idea. I followed him down the hallway, grateful he seemed to know where he was going. I shuffled along beside him, eyes down on the ground. Had it hurt, when they’d installed the shockers? If they were imbedded right into their muscles it couldn’t have been easy. Did it deliver the shock that deep, under the skin and into the muscle itself? My eyebrows furrowed and I hunched over around the weight on my chest. We had to break those things. We had to get them out of here. We had to.

My fists clenched at my sides and I set my jaw. They had to pay. Everyone on this forsaken vessel, everyone laughing and dancing and playing at their expense… I wonder how they would like it. Wonder if they knew. Wonder how they would react if everything suddenly went wrong. If they suddenly had to fear for their lives.

Not yet. I sighed, following Zenith back into our room. Not yet.

[fionnlydarling]

Interview

Tell me why I took weeks to start on this request, procrastinated for ages, and then decided it’d be a good idea to stay up until the crack of dawn and finally just get it done? 

Anyway, to the anon who requested this piece and anyone else who reads, I hope you enjoy! I feel a bit weird about this work but I just wanted to put it out and not delay any longer. If you want to read some of my scrambled thoughts on it I added a little author’s note at the end if you care to read it. If not, understandable. But enough of me. 

Happy reading! 

Request: “OK ok hear me out, I have major feels after that pic of Fionn at the opening of "Admissions". Reader is a journalist and interviews Fionn, reader underestimates weather (not used to the unpredictability that is weather in Britain)and Fionn offers a jacket (boi has layers upon layers so it don't matter) which they accept and tries to give back at the end of the night, only to get asked out.”

Pairing: FionnxReader

Words: 3282

If you feel so inclined, use the tag “fionnly darling” on my blog to read more of my works. I’m open to requests! 

So it’s been a bit of a shit day.

Alright.

To be fair, maybe you shouldn’t be whinging so much. You’re only twenty years old and you’ve got a nice job watching films and interviewing attractive and interesting celebrities. It’s a job other people would kill to have, not to mention it pays the bills.

It’s just not exactly what you thought you’d be doing in life at this point.

It if were up to you, you’d be a foreign correspondent bringing the world’s events to home, reporting with the dedication and insight of badass journalists like Christiane Amanpour or Marie Colvin.

Instead, you’re outside Trafalgar Studios holding a phone with the sound record app open and a notepad in hand, shivering where you stand because you’re a fool who underestimated London weather in March and didn’t bring a coat, thinking your tights and long-sleeved dress would be enough. Add in the fact that your feet are killing you because you’re wearing heels and you hate heels, but your boss had told you to dress up so you hadn’t had much choice.

You were sent to watch Joshua Harmon’s new play Admissions and later write a little about it, but you know what your boss really wants is for you to talk to some of the celebrities who would be attending the premier. Personally, you think it’d be more interesting to review the play than try and find out more about celebrity love lives, but that’s the job.

You’re in a brief break between interviews and you glance at your phone worriedly, noting that you’re at 5%, but you’re not sure how long that’s going to last even on power-save mode. You comfort yourself with the thought that if you do end up having to resort to writing notes by hand, at least your fingers will be warm.

You look up to see there’s a guy walking over to your little spot along the press line and you immediately note it looks like he didn’t get the ‘dress to impress’ memo. He’s actually got a beanie and hoodie on under a Carharrt jacket that literally has open seams in the right pocket.

You’re wondering if this bloke is another ill-prepared journalist like you but the closer he gets you recognize this guy isn’t just lost and wandering on the wrong side of the red carpet. That’s Fionn Whitehead from Bandersnatch and he’s coming straight towards you.

“F-Fionn!” you say

He nods at you and for a moment you forget that only a second ago you were freezing because the next thing you know Fionn’s standing right in front of you and you’re a bit speechless because, fuck, he’s a lot more attractive than you’d thought, even as the most under-dressed person at this event.

“Hello,” Fionn says, and that’s yet another distraction because he has a lovely voice, deeper than you’d think.

“H-Hi.”

Fionn looks a little confused and rightly so. There’s a beat of silence that maybe goes on a bit too long and Fionn’s sort of smirking sort of smiling at your gaping face before you shake yourself out of it and introduce yourself and the magazine you’re affiliated with before diving right into it, asking what he’d thought of the play.

Fionn nods amenably, talking about how he enjoyed seeing Harmon’s work on stage and how he’d been happy to come and support a couple of friends he had that were involved with the play.

You’re mind’s racing with any bit of research you might have previously done on Fionn and remember a play of his you watched when you first got your position at the magazine.

“So, you obviously have an interest in theater. You, Ella Purnell and Manish Gandhi were great in Natives. Is there any more theater work in the future for you?”

Fionn blinks, as though he hadn’t been expecting that particular question, the corner of his lips pulling up into a smile. “Thanks, I didn’t think too many people still remembered Natives. To answer your question though, not at the moment no. No theater work but I’m totally open to it. Like most actors I guess I found a passion for acting through theater, I was in a theater group as a teenager for a bit and all of that.”

Inside your preening a little, glad you’ve managed to ask Fionn something he doesn’t typically still get asked about and that he no longer looks as bored as he had when he was first walking over along the press line. It’s enough to almost distract you from how bloody cold it is but you still shiver a little before speaking again.

“So if not theater, what can we look forward to seeing you in next?”

You swear, you’re really doing your best to listen to Fionn’s upcoming projects as he lists movie titles and directors, mostly because you want to keep up with his career, but the cold really is starting to drive you past the point of uncomfortability and it’s hard to concentrate, nevermind that Fionn’s enticingly handsome and that’s not helping you focus on what he’s saying either.

“That’s exciting, I’ll be looking forward to that,” you say when he’s done. You blush a little because you’d meant to say ‘we’ meaning everyone at the magazine, but you quickly brush past that. “So, it’s been a couple months since it was released but people are still raving about it so, of course, I have to ask about Bandersnatch.”

“You’re not going to make me play some sort of game are you?” Fionn smiles, nose scrunching adorably.

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. You know he was joking but in most interviews you’d seen of him, Fionn always seemed so serious.

“No, no games, I promise,” you say. “I’m just curious, obviously Charlie Brooker is brilliant and I know you’ve spoken on what it’s like to work with him, but I’m interested also in what it’s been like working alongside Will Poulter who’s also very young and talented like you and just what it’s like making a name for yourselves in film when your career are in this sort of unique beginning stage and just taking off.”

Fionn looks pleased to be reminded of Will and he doesn’t skip a beat on raving about Will as an actor and as a person, even mentioning that they still keep in touch, but you don’t miss out on how Fionn had winced embarrassedly when you’d mentioned that his career was taking off and how he carefully doesn’t speak on it. You leave it be for now.

When Fionn’s finished you go on, “Obviously you were amazing in Dunkirk and it was your big break, but Black Mirror has such an enormous reach with audiences, I wonder if life has changed at all for you since it’s release?”

It’s as you’re asking that question that you notice, Fionn seems maybe a little distracted as well. Since he’s walked over he’s been looking very directly into your eyes, which is nice but not always common when you’re interviewing people. You’d thought that maybe he was just very engaged, and maybe he was, but now, you’re not sure if it’s your imagination, but is he distracted gazing at your face?

“Um, not really. I mean, I just kind of keep on doing what I’m doing,” Fionn says slowly after a moment, focusing back on your question. “I mean it’s nice to hear that so many people liked it so much.”

“I imagine you’re getting more and more recognized on the street,” you say, trying to keep a friendly smile on your face but you’re afraid it might come across as somewhat mad because it’s gotten so cold you almost can’t feel your fingers and you’re shivering so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if your teeth were chattering.

Fionn shrugs and nods at the same time, and you can’t help but think that maybe he’s a little embarrassed and it’s actually quite adorable. “I mean, a little more yea, that’s been strange.”

“I mean, sorry if I’m prying but you’ve definitely become more familiar over the last couple of months and y-you obviously don’t have any social media, I imagine y-you don’t mean for it but the m-mysteriousness about you p-probably has p-people only more interested in g-getting to know you as a p-person.”

Great, now you’re making an outright fool of yourself. You’re rambling, because you’re cold, but not only that, your teeth are actually chattering and Fionn’s staring at you like he’s confused as well and you’re about to just keep pushing through the cold when he stops you.

“Are you alright?”

“W-what do you m-mean?” you ask, feigning obliviousness even as your teeth chatter.

“Just, you seem a bit cold,” Fionn smiles. You don’t think he’s laughing at you but he definitely finds this amusing.

How are you supposed to get on the same level as Christiane Amanpour or Marie Colvin who’ve literally recorded and taken notes for their writing with literal wars going on in the background, and you can’t stand a bit of a chill.

“You’re avoiding giving me a straight answer,” you accuse teasingly, deflecting the attention from yourself, or you try to at least even as you’re literally shaking in front of him.

“I swear I’m not trying to avoid answering your questions,” Fionn laughs through his concerned look. “I’m just genuinely worried you’re about to freeze to death right in front of me.”

“I’m fine, I swear-”

But you’re obviously not fine because you shake so hard your phone slips out of your grasp and clatters harshly onto the ground. You curse before you can catch yourself and it’s with a blushing face that you start to bend to grab it but Fionn beats you to it.

“Let me,” he says, bending down to pick up your phone and he looks at it for a moment before wincing and then looking up at you. “I’m so sorry, but I think you might need a new screen.”

You wilt a little looking at your phone Fionn’s offering back to you and he’s right. The screen is cracked and black.

“How appropriate this happens when we were just talking about Black Mirror,” you say dryly and Fionn bursts out laughing.

It’s a nice laugh, enough to ease the annoyance at having to get a new screen and you can feel yourself laugh as well. It’s a small moment, but with your phone dead and now laughing together, it’s strange but you feel like you’re just two people right now, not an actor and an interviewer.

You wonder if it’s just all in your head but as Fionn calms down from his laughter, his eyes are still bright as they meet your gaze and there’s just something about it that makes your stomach tighten. It makes you nervous, because at this point you’ve interviewed dozens of actors, some of them famous A-list actors and many of them very, very handsome, and it’s not that Fionn isn’t talented or handsome as well, but no one who you’ve interviewed has made you feel this way with just their laugh.

“Sorry about your phone, I don’t mean to laugh,” Fionn says clearing his throat and offering you a bashful smile.

“It’s fine, it’s a work phone anyway” you say honestly, taking the phone back from Fionn, aware of how warm his fingers are as they brush against your for a moment. “If it hadn’t been so cold-”

“Here,” Fionn says and he starts shrugging out of his brown jacket and it takes you a moment to figure out what he’s doing but once you’ve figured it out you’re blushing even more.

“Oh, no I couldn’t-”

But any other words of protest die in your throat because then Fionn’s reaching around you in what could almost be a hug as he drops his jacket over your shoulders. For a few unreal moments he’s impossibly close and not only can you feel the warmth radiating off him, your senses are completely overwhelmed by him.

It’s over quickly and then he’s stepping back, a teasing smile on his face that probably mirrored yours from earlier. “It’s fine, I’m pretty well layered.”

You grin because it’s true, looking at his outfit again. It shouldn’t work and almost doesn’t, but somehow does? Though you’re not sure if you’re biased because he really is handsome even pale and freckled and you think you might’ve thought he looked handsome in just about anything. When you look up at Fionn again he’s smirking and you blush because you know it must have looked like you were just checking him out which to be fair, you were.

“Well, I guess our interview’s over,” you say, even as you hate the fact that whatever moment you’ve had with him is about to end. You try to make light of it, joking, “I guess you don’t have to answer any of the questions I was going to ask about your personal life.”

“Shame,” Fionn says and you blush again. “Well, about your question…off the record?”

“Oh,” you say, thrown off a little before shaking yourself out of your daze and focusing again on what Fionn’s saying. “Yeah, of course.”

Fionn thinks about it for a moment before saying, “It’s interesting because for me, it’s not me trying to be humble or anything but it really just is about the work and my enjoyment of it. It’s really strange thinking that people watch what I’ve been in, and obviously I’m really happy when people enjoy it, it’s just odd to think that after people sometimes want to know more about me when I’m just...me.”

It’s a surprisingly honest answer. It’s been rare that you’ve met actors that don’t have social media, especially any as young as Fionn is. Usually when actors don’t have social media it’s because they simply have no interest in it, or so they say. You think this must be the same for Fionn, but you also get the sense that there’s more layers to this guy than meets the eye.

You’re curious about him, more so than you usually are about the people you’ve had to interview before, and again you feel that nervous twitch in your belly because just looking into Fionn’s eyes you feel like you can get lost in them trying to know him. You know you need to pull yourself back before you really fall in.

You smile at him, “I mean, you still didn’t tell me very much about you the person, not the actor, but I’ll take it.” Fionn laughs and shrugs and it’s just so endearing you don’t stop yourself from saying, “And for the record, I’m sure just you is great and worth wanting to know more about.”

Fionn’s looking at you with that little smirk and you can see him thinking about something as he stares at you. You’re on the point of saying how nice it was to meet him and saying goodbye, but then...

Fionn laughs a little, his hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, “Well, maybe you and I could grab a drink and you can get to know me better - off the record of course - and maybe I can get to know more about you?”

You blink, surprised and wondering if you’d heard him right, but Fionn’s still smiling at you and his cheeks have gone a bit pink as he waits for your answer.

“Fionn!”

“Fionn!”

“Fee-on!”

“Fionn!”

You both look over at the journalists yelling out Fionn’s name and you’re starkly aware of how much more time Fionn has spent with you than most people going down the press line. There’s a commotion going on the other side of you two as well and when you turn to look over you wilt a little because Iwan Rheon is here and he’s slowly approaching your spot in the press line and you know your boss would have a field day if he found out that the Game of Thrones star was at this event and you didn’t get a single word with him because you were too distracted getting asked out by Fionn Whitehead.

You and Fionn look at each other and you just know you’re both wishing you were anywhere else not surrounded by all these actors and interviewers and flashing lights and cold night, but it’s part of both your worlds, meeting people all the time for just a handful of moments before having to move on. But both you and Fionn don’t want to just move on.

“I have to step in to this after-party thing for a little while, congratulate everyone on their work and all of that, but maybe we could meet up after?” Fionn asks again, and he sounds so genuinely eager for you to say yes.

Your mind’s racing because you’ve never been in this situation before with work and you’re frozen because maybe this isn’t entirely professional of you but Fionn’s looking at you with those bright green eyes and then he says, “Somewhere warm, I promise.”

He grins as he says it and it makes your heart warm and so you just go with you’re feeling and nod. “Okay! We’ll meet up.”

Fionn grins so wide that any regret you think you might have felt about accepting an invitation like this while at work just melts away.

Your work phone is obviously dead and Iwan Rheon is only getting closer, so you and Fionn quickly arrange to meet up at a nearby pub in about an hour. You’re dizzy with the thought that you’re actually doing this, you’re going on a date with someone you were meant to be interviewing for work, and not just anyone but Fionn Whitehead.

Once you’re both sure you’ve got the same pub in mind, Fionn smiles softly at you, “I’ll see you soon.”

You grin and then he’s stepping away, moving on and nearly at the next interviewer when you realize.

“Wait, your jacket!” you call and Fionn turns around but only to grin brightly at you.

“Hold onto it for me. It’s a cold night. You can give it back on our next date,” he says and your heart nearly stops.

“Next date?” You squeak, wondering how you’re already talking about next dates when you’ve only just agreed to go on one date that hasn’t even begun.

Fionn just grins and then he’s having to turn to the next better-prepared interviewer asking him questions about Bandersnatch.

So you’re not exactly Christiane Amanpour or Marie Colvin and you still think you’re a bit of a fool for not having come better prepared for a cold London night, but then again, that’s what got you here bundled up in a worn but warm Carhartt jacket and a date with Fionn Whitehead in just an hour, all in the same night. So can you really be upset with how the night turned out?

You blush and smile softly to yourself, hoping Iwan Rheon doesn’t catch on to the fact that you’re only half-listening to whatever he’s saying, because as handsome and charming as he is, your eyes can’t help straying further down to the green eyed Surrey boy you were just talking to until he’s moved down so far the press line he’s out of your line of sight.

That is, at least until you meet up with him again later tonight.

You’re no longer cold as you interview people for another hour. You’re warm with Fionn’s jacket and the possibility of where the night will take you.

Author’s Note: So this was actually really difficult for me to write and I’m not totally satisfied with this and I don’t know if I ever will be just because I found it really hard using so much dialogue in this way with Fionn who is a real person who we know so little about and who’s just so private.  Obviously I don’t at all know what Fionn makes of social media, his self-view as a person and actor, how people view actors, etc. All I know is homeboy just really likes his privacy and it even felt really odd writing this piece in particular because of what I had Reader asking him as an interviewer. 

I’m still of course willing and wanting to write more FionnxReader works and despite the challenge I enjoyed writing this, I just felt I had to put a little disclaimer out there. I have no idea how Fionn’s mind works and I’m not trying to project anything onto his personality or who he is. An idea just popped into my mind from the request made and I went with it. Hope it comes across alright! 

[thisisthe-way]

Anniversary

“Why am I here?”

Bakugou growled and glared at the owner of the voice as he glowered down into a case of necklaces and bracelets in front of him. “Because you���ve had a fuckin’ girlfriend longer than me. You know how to do this—stuff.”

Todoroki shoved his hands in his pockets and rolled his heterochromatic eyes heavenward. “And? What’s your point? You could have brought Kirishima. Isn’t he the closest you have to a best friend at this point? He’s dating Ashido-san.”

“He’s as clueless about shit like this as I am,” Bakugou snapped. “His idea of a good gift for Pink girl is a handshake. He’s the worst.” Bakugou ‘tch’ed. “You’re a fuckin’ little rich boy; I’m sure you buy your girl all kinds of nice shit. So help.”

“Yes, insulting me is really making me want to help you right now,” Todoroki replied, glancing down into the case, one eyebrow crooking up. “Momo is Creati. She can make any jewelry and clothing she likes. Those sort of gifts don’t impress her.”

“Must be nice,” Bakugou grumbled.

“You really are an idiot if you think those kinds of gifts impress Uraraka-san,” Todoroki replied. “Why are you even looking for a gift?”

“Ochako is at her parents’ for the weekend, so I had an opening,” Bakugou mumbled, brushing a hand through his hair, each item in the case glimmering. But none were quite right. He turned away from the case and trailed deeper into the department store. “Wednesday’s our anniversary.”

Todoroki’s eyes widened a little as he followed the explosion hero. “Oh? How long?”

“Six months,” he mumbled. “Half a year of not feelin’ like trash to the rest of you fuckin’ nerds because of her. She deserves—“

Todoroki snorted. “You brought that on yourself because you were an asshole.”

“I’ll kill you, Icyhot,” Bakugou’s empty threat rang out.

“You can try,” Todoroki replied with a smirk at the wilder man. He’d loosened up a little too since he had starting seeing Yaoyorozu, and they had been together since the middle of third year—a year and a half now. Of course, they didn’t really celebrate anniversaries. Both were goal oriented creatures, and heroes who had graduated UA after being admitted on recommendation. He loved Momo with the same fire that Bakugou loved Uraraka, but both knew, for now, their careers came first.

It worked for them.

Bakugou scoffed at Todoroki’s brush-off. “Can you just help me find a damn gift, or go the fuck home?”

“Honestly, you asked the wrong person,” Todoroki replied, glancing around at the racks and rows of clothes and accessories for women. “Momo and I don’t celebrate anniversaries.”

Bakugou froze and his brows furrowed. “What? You two? You’re like Japan’s power couple.”

“To our classmates, perhaps,” Todoroki replied. “But have you seen our picture in the newspaper? Heard our names together on the news? Seen Tweets about us being an item?”

Thinking back, Bakugou had never heard one iota of news on the number two hero’s equally famous son being involved with...anyone. Which would be big news, though he didn’t like to admit that anyone was more important than him in the hero world.

“Why do you think that is. Bakugou?” Todoroki asked, always soft spoken and serious. “I love my girlfriend with all my heart. Why do you think I haven’t told everyone? I want to. Always.”

Bakugou frowned, silently, as he looked through the racks.

“We’re careful never to be seen together. Going to your apartment a few months ago was a gamble. Thankfully, your status as a hero sidekick was new, so no one knew where you were living yet. We meet up early in the morning before work or late st night.” Todoroki looked at Bakugou earnestly. “Have you figured it out?”

“Shut the hell up,” Bakugou growled, lowly, turning his eyes sharply on the other man. “Shut up.”

“It’s dangerous,” Todoroki finally offered, “Everyone in the world suddenly knows your biggest weakness. That thing now comes out into the light with a giant red bullseye on its back.”

“Literally, for Yaoyorozu,” Bakugou replied, poking fun at the woman’s Create quirk while glancing back down at the racks.

Todoroki’s eyes deadpanned. “Are you listening?”

“Look, I know. Okay? I know. Fuck.” He groaned. “I’m always worried about her, especially since—“

“The League is still out there. And your reputation even now as a pro makes you a target. Tell me, and tell me honestly, if something happened to her, could it tip the scales? Could it turn you?”

“I am not here to have this conversation, Icyhot!! Can you just help me pick out a gift for my damn girlfriend? Fuck.“ He slammed the dress he was now holding back down on the rack. “Half-Half bastard.”

“I’m just giving you some practical advice for this lifestyle,” Todoroki mumbled, rolling his eyes again. “Whoever’s idea it was, you two are in this predicament now. If Uraraka gets hurt, you can’t give in to the Explosion Murder mindset and go on a rampage. You won’t be any better than Shigaraki or the League if you do.”

“I know that,“ he barked, and then calmed a little and blew out an irritated breath. “Listen, Icyhot, not that it’s any of your damn business but I—“ He growled. “I wouldn’t do that. Not because I wouldn’t want to because anyone who has the damn nerve to lay a fuckin’ hand on Ochako deserves to DIE.”

He squatted to examine some shoes on a bottom shelf nearby. “But, despite your small-ass mindedness, I am a different person than I was as a kid. I watched Best Jeanist get hurt tryin’ to save me. I watched All Might lose all his strength. I watched damn Deku hurt himself over and over, trying to be the kind of hero I’d spent my whole fuckin’ life to become. I watched Ochako fight and fight and fight—over and over, climbing the ranks. Training with Deku. Training with Iida. Training with me. These people would never compromise their souls for a chance at revenge.”

Todoroki’s eyes widened to saucers at the insightful words, watching him, his arms crossing over his chest.

“They believe in me. All Might believes in me. Ochako believes in me,” he mumbled, throwing the shoes down, uninterested. “If I ever lost her, I’d never shit all over her memory by defying that belief for the chance at temporary relief. It just wouldn’t be worth it. Those fuckers would definitely face my anger. But the right way.”

Todoroki was speechless for a moment, and then he smirked and bowed his head, eyes sliding closed. “I’m actually impressed.”

“Fuckin’ whoop,” Bakugou grumbled. “Wasn’t trying to impress you.”

Todoroki chuckled, and then his eyes popped open, thoughtfully. “I have an idea. Come on.”

//////

Yaoyorozu looked up from her laptop when she heard the door into her study click open. She kept it locked, usually, so she could concentrate on her reports at the end of her actual work day. Only one other person had a key.

She smiled, warmly, when a shock of red-and-white hair came through the door. “Shoto,” she said, standing immediately, still wearing her hero costume from the day. She approached him, pausing when Bakugou came through the door after him. “Oh. Konnichiwa, Bakugou-san.”

“Tch.”

Todoroki smirked over his shoulder st Bakugou before approaching Yaoyorozu and touching her waist with his left hand, always trying to place the warmer hand on her more sensitive areas, especially considering the amount of skin she had to show normally in order to use her Quirk. “Aisuru, we need your help.”

Yaoyorozu blushed at being called ‘dear love’ in front of anyone. Shoto was usually very private with their affection. For good reason. Of course, class 1A knew. But still....

“What is it, Shoto?” She asked, touching his chest tenderly through his shirt.

Todoroki looked over at Bakugou and raised an eyebrow, thoughtfully, before smiling back at Yaoyorozu, knowingly.

/////

“Kaaaatsuki!”

On Wednesday, Bakugou stood, waiting outside of the agency that Uraraka was interviewing at. He looked up when he heard her calling him.

She bounced up to him, and threw her arms around his neck, pressing a wet kiss to his cheek, allowing him to wrap his strong forearms under her bottom and hold her up. He chuckled, and grinned up at her.

“You look stupid, running up on me like that, Pro Hero.,” he teased.

“Yeah, But I got excited! I didn’t see you at all over the weekend and I was busy with interviews all Monday and Tuesday, and it’s our—“

He had put her down now and was holding out a small box.

She gasped, gently, taken aback. “...anniversary.”

“I know,” he said, smirking down at her. “Happy stupid relationship day, marui kao.”

Uraraka rolled her eyes and smiled up at him. “You didn’t have to. I didn’t have time to—“

“Will you just shut the fuck up and open it?” He said with a proud grin, his hands resting on his hips after she took the box. Inside was a small vile on a piece of twine, and inside were small, moving sparks.

He pulled on the twine that settled against his neck and collarbones to reveal the vile she had given him on his birthday, smirking. “Now we match.”

“How did you—“

“Creation girl made the vile special. It circulates air different or something,” he said. “One drop of sweat, and a small ignition—it’ll never go out. So you can...y’know, have a reminder, too. Of us. Of me.”

Uraraka’s eyes filled with tears as she looked up at him. “Katsu...this is...” She laughed gently and shook her head. “Really sappy.”

“OI!” Her boyfriend barked, eyes slanting and widening angrily, before he settled down, crossing his arms over his chest and pursing his lips when she pressed a sincere kiss to his cheek. “Baka marui kao.”

“Thank you,” she whispered against his ear, using her pink painted fingernails to turn his face toward hers, planting a firm kiss on his lips. “I love it.”

“You better,” he mumbled, their foreheads now touching. “I love you, you fuckin’ pain in the ass.”

She grinned and pecked his lips again. “I love you too. Happy anniversary.”

“Hn.” He grunted, but smiled his Bakugou smile and slung an arm around his girlfriend. “Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving. And I know you; you didn’t get me anything so you’re thinking about making me dinner instead. I don’t need you burning down my apartment.”

“Ah! Katsuki, so mean,” she pouted.

Bakugou snorted but smirked down at her. “My treat, kao.” He tightened his hold, and they walked along, him asking her about her weekend and interviews, and her gushing about seeing her parents, and how nervous she was to start interviewing at agencies again.

Maybe it was dangerous for two pro heroes to walk down the street, wrapped around each other, in love, but he decided he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to let the threat of maybes trample on his definitely.

And he’d run over anyone who stood in the way of that, before they could ever lay a hand on his girl.

To six more months, and beyond, marui kao.

[clubpassim]

Women in Folk - Kristina Latino

Hi there!

Katie here, ready and excited to bring you our first interview-e for the ‘Women in Folk’ Blog.

I’d like to introduce you to Kristina Latino. Kristina is an artist manager, primarily working with Americana/Folk artists. Kristina founded a company a few years back called Cornerscape, which started as a live-music events company that slowly morphed into the artist management company it is today. Her first job out of college was actually with Club Passim, working as a sound engineer in the club downstairs at night, and in the office as operations manager during the day. She credits her time at Passim as the thing that started her down the path of getting to know the Americana/Folk scene. During the interview, Kristina told me that while she worked at Passim, artists started coming to her for advice with little projects and crowdfunding ideas, and over time helped her transition to focus on artist management.

When I asked what her favorite part about working the job was, she enthusiastically listed off several things, which should stand as a testament to her passion and excitement for what she does;

“I love getting to see the way an album forms over time. Working with my artists and hearing them say, ‘I wrote this new song over the weekend, would you like to hear it’? And then they play it for me on their guitar, and then there’s a demo, and then months later it becomes a piece of their full-length album that they’re recording in the studio. Seeing the way a song morphs and transitions over time and the way album stories are built is really my favorite part.” We then circled back to her time at Passim, where she had some insightful things to say about her gained experiences, as well as a juicy secret kept in the dark all these years…

“I’m actually not sure if Matt Smith (booking manager for Passim) knows this yet, but I think it’s probably safe for me to admit this now...But I guessed that at my interview they would ask me if I had been to the club before, so I made sure to go to a show at the club the night before my interview. I had been to the space before but I hadn’t been to a show, and I just needed to be able to say yes in the interview, and not lie about it.”

You heard it here, folks.

She then went on to talk about how her work experience at Passim has continued to inform the work she does today; “The experience helps me every day; not just being a part of the Passim community, but when I’m with artists at shows elsewhere, having the training that I have as a former sound engineer to be able to listen really well to the mix that my artists are getting during their soundchecks and just being a good representative for them. Making sure they’re putting their best foot forward in shows is easier for me with that training and that background. It’s something I’m very practically grateful for.”

The next part of the interview was dedicated to her role as a woman in a male-dominated profession.

[full interview under the cut]

Club Passim: Talk a little bit about your experiences as a female in a male-dominated profession/field.

Kristina Latino: My experience has primarily been one filled with support from other women managers. That has been the predominant experience that I’ve had so far. I am continually amazed by the openness and the support that I get when I meet other women managers, many of whom have been doing it much longer than me, and that so many of them will give me their cell number and say, ‘If you need to talk through some strategy or if you have questions you can call me, you can email me’. It makes me feel like I have a community to turn to as I grow, and that has been really invaluable.

On the flip side, there are definitely experiences I’ve had that have been frustrating. It’s frustrating when some people, often men, just don’t take you seriously. With those people, I sometimes have to be a lot more forceful with my personality, or persistent in proving to them that I am worth their mental space and their time. Where gender comes into play, I have been inspired by the incredible women managers that I get to see and work with, and I hope I get to work with more and more of them as time goes on.

CP: Do you notice a difference in how you’re treated by artists, venues, audiences, and industry professionals before you’ve set expectations about the quality of your work?

KL: Sure. I try to be kind and respectful to everyone, and I think, you know, maybe because I’m a woman, that often that can be mistaken as being a pushover, or not firm enough. I think sometimes people think that because I try to be very nice that I am not able to be as much of a champion for my artists as they expect, but that’s fine. I know I can go after things that my artists need really well. I think people sometimes expect me to be more soft-spoken or less opinionated or think that because I’m nice that I’ll be a pushover and that’s not the case. I can stand up for myself just fine, especially with the motivation of wanting to do right by my artists. It’s easy for me to stand up for those artists and for the people I care about.

CP: What do you do in a situation when you feel disrespected by the artists/co-workers you’re surrounded by?

KL: The way that I react to disrespect has really evolved over time. When people treated me with real disrespect when I was younger, I was much more likely to write them off. Now when I encounter disrespect in the industry, I am more likely to politely address it. It all depends on the situation though.

And frankly, there’s always a calculation of whether or not it’s worth it to say something.

I wish that everyone was more introspective with how they interact with other people in all cases, especially when it comes to gender expectations. People have to want to work with you and people have to respect you.

CP: Follow up question. Have you found that this disrespect has come from more men or women?

KL: Men, definitely. But that question makes me a little uncomfortable, as I have found the community to be, on the whole, very welcoming, very respectful, very positive, so honestly, that has been the overarching theme for me; very positive.

However, I’ve also experienced some pretty classic examples of sexism. For example, I attended a meeting earlier this year where I was the only woman at the table and it was assumed by the person I was meeting that I was there to take notes. So that was, you know, very frustrating.

Or there was another meeting this year where the men at the table, who all knew each other well, set up a dynamic in which it was really difficult to work my way into the conversation. Those two instances were very frustrating, and you never know how much of it comes from gender, or age, or just someone thinking,  ‘well if I don’t know you already then you can’t be worth my time’. You never know what the exact balance of factors is, but I’m sure there’s always some element of gender.  You have to figure out a way to correct for it though, so with that situation, I went home and thought about how I could help those people and hopefully establish a positive working relationship.

So instead of pointing out to him that he was rude and talked over me for an hour, I tried to make it worth his while to register me as someone worth his respect.

And here is perhaps my favorite question to ask these women.

CP: In your opinion, how can men be more aware or informed about women in the music industry?

KL: I think that making spaces for new voices is really important. I try to think about this with myself as well. In the grand scheme of things, I am a pretty new manager. However, I am also the co-chair of Women in Music Boston, which is a non-profit organization that works to amplify the efforts of women across the music industry, and I am always reminding myself that while I am trying to learn from women mentors in artist management who are much farther along, I can also open doors to women who are years behind me in coming up in the music industry.

I think that this is a really important mentality regardless of gender, but I do think that men often do talk over people a lot, talk over women a lot. In the music industry, people are always clamoring for their voices to be heard, like, LITERALLY, so I think men should be more aware of how much space they’re taking up at the metaphorical microphone, and pass it to more women. Making sure your events are being hosted in a space that feels safe to women, making sure women know that they can report inappropriate behavior if it is your space.

Sidebar: A kudos shout out I want to give goes to a band in town called Future Teens. I went to one of their shows, and they had a text-line that you could text if someone in the space has made you feel unsafe in some way. One of the singers in the band named Daniel announced that at the show and it was awesome. That kind of ally-ship is super concrete.  

But anyway, it’s just important to think about how you can open doors to younger women managers. The people you mentor don’t always have to look exactly like you, you know? Seeking out new perspectives, new backgrounds, new lived experiences will make all of our work better. I just think more men should think about the way that they make their spaces feel welcoming - physical spaces and intellectual spaces.

CP: What message do you want to display as a woman in the managerial field?

KL: The music industry, like many industries, is built on relationships, and I think the message that I want to send, as myself, but also as a woman in the music industry, is that we should all be treating each other with respect, and treating each other well, and building relationships from a place of mutual respect and level footing, as much as possible.

There are so many power imbalances in the music industry, and I want people to feel like they can come to me and that I will treat them with respect regardless of our history or experiences. The frustrations that women experience in the music industry come from a lack of respect. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve seen women-fronted bands, getting sound-checked on stage saying, ‘I need more of this in my monitor’, or ‘This is sounding weird’, and the engineer doesn’t take them seriously because he doesn’t think they know their instrument. That just seems absolutely crazy to me.

So at the end of the day, I think that lack of respect is the frustrating part, and if we all focus more on creating an environment of mutual respect, especially for women who need to fight harder to get it, that would make things a lot better.

CP: What words of wisdom/encouragement do you have for aspiring women in this field?

KL: I love that question. That you can totally do it and that people will welcome you into this field! It is less scary than you think it’ll be. There’s a wonderful network of support out there, to find your crowd and celebrate them and to keep your head down and do the work, and don’t worry too much about what other people think.

Thank you, Kristina, for your thoughtful answers and honest conversation! The blog’s purpose isn’t just to bring these gender-issues to light but to also provide ways for men to be advocates and supporters of their women-peers and co-workers. I challenge everyone to be more self-aware and observant of your workplace. You might be surprised by what you find.

For now, thank you for reading, and stay tuned for the next installment of the ‘Women in Folk’ blog!

-Katie

[auskultu]

Here is the most amazing article EVER-WRITTEN about a MONKEE

Ann Moses, New Musical Express, 4 May 1968

Mike Nesmith wanted me to expose how rude he is, reveals Ann Moses in this NMExclusive from Hollywood

MIKE NESMITH took me to lunch. We left the Columbia Ranch, where the the Monkees were filming their movie, waved to the fans gathered at the gate and grinned as they took pictures. Then we sped away in his jeep. A few minutes later we were at a quiet restaurant in downtown Burbank where they knew Mike.

Most of you would imagine that this was a typical event for me. You're wrong… very wrong. The reason is — this was only the second time Mike and I had spoken peacefully in the last ten months!

To explain why, I must revert back to early encounters with Mike. I can't say I knew Mike the least of the Monkees because I really "got to know him" after a series of interviews with his wife, Phyllis, last summer.

But in early interviews Mike was certainly the most evasive. While the other boys found being interviewed new, exciting, and a chance to talk about themselves (the Monkees love to talk about themselves!), Mike felt it a drag and a chore from the beginning.

Wanted more The first story I did with Mike was the story of his life — in more than the 250 words on the official Screen Gems biography. Then, I was forced to ask at least five questions to get even one reply. At the time Mike explained his behaviour by saying he couldn't understand how anyone would want to read about his life.

But now I realise he was just having fun being evasive and making me work for a story.

In later interviews Mike would always find many other things to do during our interviews — change costumes, make phone calls, make sandwiches or just pin cigarette packages to his dressing room wall! The thought of just doing an interview was too absurd for Mike. And when he would listen to my inquiries his replies would be something in the form of, "That's the most blatantly stupid question I've ever heard!"

By the time I travelled with the Monkees on their summer tour, Mike agreed to be photographed at whatever he happened to be doing at the time, but he would always skilfully disappear when I mentioned "interview " or just talking.

The climax came on the Monkee set about October of last year. Mike would wave hello to me, but if I even looked as if I might be on the verge of asking a question he'd simply say: "I'm not talking to you!"

Rude comments I increased my persistence, but to no avail. Finally, after I'd followed Mike around the set for one entire morning, and remained unruffled throughout his rude comments and taunting remarks, he turned to me and said: "Look. I'm 25 years old, I have a wife, a child and another on the way. I don't have time for your tennybopper twaddle," only he didn't say "twaddle." With that I exited coolly. But inside I was steaming.

It wasn't until several weeks ago that I made an attempt to talk to Mike. My new approach was now of Hollywood correspondent to the New Musical Express in England (a paper I knew Mike respected) and I now had a channel to write about things Mike might be interested in.

After a lecture on "how to be a good writer-reporter" (which he felt I was certainly not, but possibly could be) he agreed to do an interview about his solo-album, The Wichita Train Whistle.

Does it matter? Why is any of this important? It is, but only if it gives the curious some insight into Mike Nesmith. Much may be misconstrued and much can be read into the story. Like maybe I'm an obnoxious person, so why should Mike talk to me or that Mike just doesn't care about his fans. All these nuances are acceptable, but not valid here.

You can even think of Mike as a good Samaritan. During lunch he let me know the whole purpose of his months of rudeness was to get me angry enough to write a story with some guts.

He was distraught that I never printed that he was rude to me, or that he swore within a conversation and to a girl.

If nothing else, I think what I've said here shows you one part of his character, because most of today's pop stars tell great tales that end "but don't print it," and smoke but say "don't photograph it."

Mike the person Lunch was interesting last week because I think Mike talked to me on a semi-personal level. I can't believe he was totally natural, forgetting I was a writer and he was a Monkee.

As he sipped four hot brandys and we each had a salad, he explained how he felt I could be a better writer. We also discussed his jeep, tape recorders, the girl modeling clothes at the restaurant, my boy friend, his future after the Monkees and a few other subjects I can't recall right now.

It was a nice enough lunch. I think I got to see a little more than Mike the Monkee, and that was so exciting after all. Mike probably won't like this story. It's not heavy enough. It isn't harsh enough, But, Mike it's a start… and I'm going to write about your current love — The Wichita Train Whistle, the first attempt to produce rock 'n' roll music in the big band tradition — in next week's NME.

[internalcommunications]

The Benefits of Building Trust

Grant Springford is the news, stories and campaigns lead at the DfT, a ministerial department that works with 24 agencies and public bodies — such as the British Transport Police Authority, the Civil Aviation Authority and Network Rail — to support the transport infrastructure and keep the UK on the move.

The DfT consists of around 3,000 employees in the central department — and this includes remote workers.

Grant joined the Department around three years ago with a specific remit to lead its Be Yourself diversity and inclusion campaign. His team forms part of the Internal Communication (IC) function, which reports into the Department’s People function, and works closely with DfT’s wider Communications Directorate.

Education & awareness

The DfT already had in place various self-managed networks for staff who are disabled, colleagues who are black, Asian and minority ethnic (BAME), LGBT+, 50+, young people and individuals with young families, to name but a few. The DfT’s family of networks has continued to grow and now includes support for ex-service men and women, and neurodiversity.

These networks operate a busy calendar of events and other opportunities “to help people understand the different aspects and cultures of pretty much everyone who works in the Department”, says Grant.

They all work closely with the Department’s Diversity and Inclusion team, which has three overriding objectives: 1) to ensure that people feel safe and happy to bring their whole selves to work; 2) to encourage people to celebrate that fact in the workplace; and 3) to reflect and represent the general public that the Department serves.

As part of this, they also embed educational strategies that run across the civil service. For example, ensuring people have the right training to reduce unconscious bias in selection processes.

Clearly, a diverse and inclusive culture was already established and embraced at the DfT. What it was lacking, from an internal communications perspective, was direction.

Walking the talk

“People were sharing their stories, but we certainly didn’t have a campaign to spearhead it and we didn’t really have clear objectives to make that happen,” says Grant. “So, the Be Yourself campaign was created to really get the message out to say: ‘Look, we celebrate diversity and inclusivity at the Department. We don’t just simply write stories about the strategy and the importance behind it. We’ve got a campaign to make it happen.’’’

Grant and his team decided to take forward a storytelling approach to help bring the strategy to life, being careful to use the voice and idiosyncrasies of individuals. They also developed specific branding for all visuals, news pieces and screens.

The campaign was launched with a ‘Bring Yourself to Work Day’, encouraging people to wear an item of clothing or bring something to work that would reflect who they are as an individual.

It received a tremendous response.

“In previous Departments I’ve worked in, if we’d done such a thing, we might get a handful of people. But, even then, we’d have to twist their arms to take part.

“I think because there was already this nice positive vibe to the organisation, people threw themselves into it. There were close to a hundred people who took part; they wore T-shirts, they wore hats, and they brought in items that reflected who they are.

“We got lots of photographs. We got lots of goodwill. We got lots of stories we were able to start sharing. And that kind of led the way.”

We celebrate diversity and inclusivity at the Department. We don’t just simply write stories about the strategy and the importance behind it. We’ve got a campaign to make it happen.

Listening & insights

It was at that stage that Grant and his team started really talking to the networks and people around the business, asking: “OK, we’ve had some fun with this, but what serious stories have we got? What can we do to start sharing and celebrating the fact that we’re open and honest and we’re all individuals.”

A breakthrough moment came early on in the campaign when one brave individual from the network supporting mental health got in touch with Grant, saying he wanted to share his story about his battles with suicide.

Grant spoke with him about what that might look like. “He was very candid and honest. But I think because we’d already done that publicity around the campaign and spoken about this culture we’re trying to build around positivity and support, he was up for it.

“He wrote a really powerful story for us about the fact that on several occasions, he’d attempted to take his life. And, thankfully, he got the support he needed. Although it was an ongoing battle for him, he was still with us and he was getting the help he needed.”

The story received a huge amount of comments via the internal news channel, says Grant. One or two individuals even said that by sharing his story, he’d given them the courage to reveal to the Department that they’re in the same boat: feeling the same and going through the same battles.

Support, honesty & empowerment

“I get goosebumps when I talk about that,” says Grant. “Because, to me, that’s one of the powerful things about internal communications. If you can nurture a culture where people feel supported — where they feel they can open up and share something that personal and know they’ll be supported — that’s when you know you’re getting things right.

“For me it was a real turning point for the campaign. The doors really opened on a number of topics: really tough, personal stories around, for example, depression and battles with cancer. Also, some lovely light-hearted stories as well; not everything was hard-hitting or soul-searching. We had lots of stories about volunteering and different aspects of life in different cultures.”

One of Grant’s favourites included a lady who’d been a carer for many years and hadn’t told anyone at work for fear of issues. Feeling empowered by the campaign, she felt she could open up to her line manager. As a result, they figured out a working pattern that would better suit her. Plus, she went on to become chair of the carers’ network.

The Be Yourself campaign has proven such a hit, the blog space is now booked weeks, if not months, in advance.

Campaign evaluation

Clearly, this is a strong indicator of campaign success. But what other measurement tools do the team use?

“In addition to measuring the engagement of our stories, like the number of hits and comments, we use our people survey. This is an annual survey to help us learn how people are engaged within the civil service, what’s important to us, and what issues need to be tackled,” explains Grant.

Meanwhile, as part of their regular news items and stories, they introduced a sister channel a year ago. Entitled ‘Who am I?’ this is intended as a fun, 10- to 15- question interview, aimed at all levels of seniority. In addition to some diversity- and inclusion-focused questions, it asks things like: what makes you proud to be a civil servant? What’s your job at the department all about? What’s the most embarrassing moment in your life? Who would you play in the movie of your life?

“That channel skyrocketed,” says Grant. “It’s really encouraged people to engage.”

2019 also saw the rollout of a campaign to mark the Department’s centenary: DfT100. A lot of the team’s diversity and inclusion stories were absorbed into this campaign to help talk about the history of the Department and the networks. “We were absolutely delighted when DfT100 was given the ‘Best Ongoing Communication’ award at last year’s IoIC Awards — judges fed back that they were impressed by the extent to which employees were actively involved in the campaign,” says Grant.

What’s next?

So, what does 2020 have in store for Grant and his team?

“We’re now looking to embed DfT’s new vision and values — and the message that diversity and inclusion is important to us will be an integral part of this work.”

Grant says he and his team plan to take certain elements from the DfT100 campaign, such as involving staff at an early stage in the thinking and development around content and activities.

They’re also working closely with their colleagues from the Communications Directorate to help staff better understand how their work positively impacts on the public and using this to further develop the DfT’s employer brand.

“We want to ensure people are aware of the fantastic culture we have here at the DfT, so they start to realise it’s a brilliant place to work. We want potential new recruits to think: ‘It’s an inclusive department. Just look at all these stories that are being shared internally. It’s a place I really do want to come and work.’”

Original Source: The benefits of building trust

[artloife]

For the prompt 'Smile'

A/N: This is part wish fulfillment, part my reaction to the frankly amazing recent chapters by Nakamura-Sensei. This is my own kind of headcanon that’s developed about these two characters and is rather heavily dependent on all the character development that has occurred since the Dark Moon Wrap Party until the most recent chapter. This is for the Skip Beat celebration of KyokoxRen week on tumblr. For the prompt ‘Smile’

Also, I use the Japanese honorifics as I’m most used to hearing that from learning conversational Japanese. Additionally, Nakamura-sensei utilizes the inner thoughts of her characters to great effect, so I’ve done that as well. It's denoted with ‘_’. 

This clocks in at around 9k so yeah.... Enjoy! 

Five Times Tsuruga Ren Slipped & Then Covered with a Smile

1. Of Momose-san & an Interview

The Dark Moon Wrap Party was well underway and Momose-san was currently enjoying answering the in-depth questions of her interviewer. She was so delighted by how insightful her reporter was that she perhaps let slip something she otherwise wouldn’t have. 

“Momose-san, I’m quite curious, with such a wonderfully talented cast and crew, what surprised you the most while being a part of those dynamics behind the scenes of this production?”

Momose-san perhaps could have mentioned the talented musicians they consulted with, as acknowledging more rarely-spoken of aspects of producing television was always appreciated, but what really had stuck with her most throughout shooting the show was the dichotomy of Mogami-san. So struck by how the younger actress acted during daily life, she instead replied:

“This might be silly to say, but Mogami-san, oh, who you all would know as Kyoko-san, when not in character, is astonishingly gentle and kind. And so funny! Her and Tsuruga-san were sometimes so silly together they appeared like a manzai duo! I am so glad Tsuruga-san vouched for her in the beginning, as the time we spent together not in front of the cameras, we had quite a bit of fun! And she’s just such a professional in general as well.”

Her interviewer, a little startled by her enthusiasm, nevertheless filed away that fascinating nugget of information. 

“Okay, next question, what was the scene most memorable to you?” …

As Yashiro-san would snark later, Ren could have very easily avoided this misstep. However, in his opinion, he believed he covered with remarkable aplomb and so all’s well that ends well. Ren, unexpectedly and unfortunately, relearned a particular lesson today that he really should have known better than to have had to relearn. That is, he draws attention he doesn’t even know he does at the most inopportune times. ‘Boss would get a kick out of this’, he mused to himself, exasperated and still irritated on some levels. 

To provide some context, a certain crew member, underling to a certain interviewer, had been struggling to find his boss’ next two interviewees after one Iizuka-san’s interview was finished. As his search met the ten minute mark, he finally spotted an odd event occurring next to an odd decoration. ‘Egyptian?? Why Egyptian?’ Then, ‘Tsuruga-san! Why are you embarrassing that nice looking lady?!’

He politely coughed to gain the couple’s attention, “Tsuruga-san, please follow me, we’re ready for you.”

The tall actor straightened up to gesture towards the interviewing space, “After you Mogami-san.” 

The crew member now recognized the glamorous young woman as Kyoko-san, who then promptly ducked her head and scurried towards the seating area. The crew member shook his head to divest himself of his surprise at how chameleon-like the young actress was. Then he hurried on ahead to whisper to his boss about what he just saw. She was not even gonna believe it but he totally saw it with his own two eyes; Tsuruga-san liked to tease. 

Ren, throughout the beginning of the interview, couldn’t help but kick himself for his behavior. ‘You’re getting sloppy Kuon. Tsuruga Ren is always a gentleman. What are you even doing? Mogami-san became so embarrassed that that crew member glared at me even as he felt embarrassed for her too! Get it together!’

“I know I’m a curious one, and I’m sure the fans are too, however did you think up your style for this evening? So glamorous!”

Ren suppressed a twitch at the interviewer’s question while Kyoko blushed brightly.

“Ahha, actually, it’s a bit of a funny story. Since I’m younger than everyone, and this was my first real event like this, I was a tad self-conscious about it. But actually Kijima-san was so nice, when I mentioned it, he introduced me to some stylists and they just kind of went wild. I was a bit surprised but he helped me out a lot with it.”

Ren again attempted to rein in his temper as the chatter continued in this vein for the next couple minutes. Really, his more physically-inclined urges to rearrange Kijima-san’s face and/or to outright speak ill of him was slightly hypocritical after all that had just happened. Nevertheless, Ren had to take a calming breath and bite his tongue. 

“You’re such an interesting topic of conversation tonight Mogami-san! First Momose-san, and now Kijima-san, and, from what I hear, even Tsuruga-san, they all really seem have great relationships with you in particular out of this cast. Tsuruga-san, I’m dying to know, has Mogami-san always captivated you, or have you two developed such a wonderful relationship for a different reason?”

For a half second, Ren stopped breathing and his eyes widened in shock. The miniscule reactions were his only tell, fortunately, and he smoothly transitioned into his trademark media smile. 

“Apologies, but I’m not quite sure I understand the question?” Ren’s voice came out as smoothly as ever, and he breathed a sigh of relief. God, where did this even come from??!

If the interviewer’s smile became more shark-like, Ren was positive he was imagining it. “Well Momose-san compared your behind-the-scenes antics to that of a manzai duo, I confess I am intrigued. You’ve never really been one for comedy such as that, as far as we the public know, so is it Kyoko-san’s influence, or are you two just that comfortable with each other?”

Ren attempted to control his urge to clench his fists in frustration but replied, “Ah, that’s a bit of humorous take from Momose-san, I’m sure. We’re just from the same company is all, so we know each other from meeting at the office on occasion.”

Kyoko was nodding along a bit too frantically, “Ah, yes! Tsuruga-san and I have just come across each other on occasion at the office. Other than working on Dark Moon together, we don’t have too much else in common.”

“Hmm, how surprising, and Momose-san mentioned that you had to vouch for Mogami-san here at the beginning of production, Tsuruga-san. Can you explain that a little more? What gave you that confidence?”

Ren suppressed his want to reach out to settle Kyoko’s slightly bouncing knee. This interviewer had definitely gotten off track some, perhaps he could manage to wrangle it back on course to soothe Kyoko’s nerves a little.

“It’s quite simple really. There were concerns Kyoko-san didn’t have enough experience for such a vital role. However, the director was positive she was right for the job, and I know our company president had vouched for this production, and what little I had known at the time of Kyoko-san’s professionalism were all enough for me to have that confidence.” He risked sending Kyoko a reassuring smile which did seem to settle the bouncing knee.

Kyoko smiled back up in return before turning her gaze back to the interviewer, “Really, it was only with all of my costars’ faith and help that I managed to create a Mio I was proud of.”

Promptly diverted by this part of the topic, the interviewer returned to the normal questioning about the production process. Ren let out a sigh of relief, Thank God. You need to cool it Kuon. Ren, with his temper now controlled, began to rebuild his character defenses but still felt the looming threat of Kuon’s fury.

After the interview Yashiro shot Ren an unimpressed look that got his hackles up. “What Yashiro-san?”

Yashiro sighed and shook his head, “Honestly Ren, all of this could very easily have been avoided. I know you know that. I’ve told you. The president’s told you. Be careful. This role you currently have is making you slip up. The rest of the people here might not have noticed how angry you were throughout that entire interview, but Kyoko-chan and I have noticed your temper all evening. I’m sure the president, were he here, would have as well.”

Ren’s jaw muscle jumped as he clenched his teeth before replying, “I can handle it. And besides, that interviewer just got some fluff about cast dynamics. It’ll be a hit. While I understand your concerns, my issues don’t ever interfere with my work. I don’t let them.”

(Ren will come to regret those words later.)

2. Guam; Tsuruga-san on the Day of Kyoko’s Departure

Ren was very quietly basking in how he and Kyoko were able to talk somewhat normally. She might have been scolding him about eating but after all that had occurred here in Guam, he could only feel relief that she was talking to him. That she was talking to him at all after the way he’d treated her throughout the past weeks was a miracle in his opinion. But, he had a niggling guilty feeling he didn’t think he could keep his silence about.

“Mogami-san,” Ren interrupted her mid-rant hesitantly, “I appreciate that you want to make sure I’m eating while I finish up here. But-”

He quieted for long enough that Kyoko cocked her head to the side, “Tsuruga-san?”

He raised his head to shoot her a faint smile, “I just really wanted to apologize.”

“Tsuruga-san? I’m not sure what you mean?”

Ren took a deep breath, “My behavior as Cain and BJ has been the cause of an inordinate amount of issues for you.”

Growing increasingly alarmed at this unexpected turn of events, Kyoko started to say, “Tsuruga-san, please don’t-!”

“Please let me finish. I have caused you a great deal of issues in the past weeks. I recognize that I have had difficulty with this task. I’ve been overly possessive, overly aggressive, and have broken character several times.” He paused for a second trying to control his embarrassment but then continued.

“I am but a man. I make mistakes. That you have had the patience and fortitude to put up with it is amazing and you have my everlasting gratitude.” To better accent this, Ren gave her a partial bow in the traditional style she preferred. Straightening back up, he caught sight of her very red face and the fingers she twisted nervously in her lap. ‘My God, but she’s so adorable she leaves me breathless’. 

“Please look at me Mogami-san.” She shyly started looking up but had to duck her eyes again as she saw his dazzling smile. 

“Please never forget how amazing you are Mogami-san. Of your own willpower and grace, you have made it through this very trying task of ours. I am not exaggerating when I acknowledge how wonderful you were at that.” 

“Tsuruga-san, please, I do appreciate this, really, but please stop talking.” Kyoko had to bury her face in her hands to calm down for a minute or two. Then, once she felt she could, she turned her gaze back to him. 

“I have only been able to do this because of your support. As a fellow actor, you constantly push me to be better. I had to do my best. I had to. Do you get it?”

Ren, now relieved he was able to apologize well enough, shot her another smile. “That is indeed quite the praise coming from you. Thank you again.”

(Once his door is shut after seeing her off a little while later, Ren will take a deep breath, straighten his backbone and swear to not disappoint her.)

3. Lory & the Box’R Incident

Ren let out a frustrated sigh in his Cain getup as he followed Ten-san into Lory’s office, “I thought we’d decided to not have me do promo work for Tragic Marker? For the mystery?” 

Lory, finishing up a phone call, just waved them further into the office, “Don’t worry about it Director-san, I’ll arrange transportation for her. Thanks for the notice, you can be at ease now.”

He finished up his goodbyes and then turned to Ren, “I know, I know, but things change. Don’t worry, it’s still all hush hush. The movie’s studio marketing team just wanted some stills just in case it became necessary. However I do need to come with you to hammer out details, so please follow me out.” Miss Woods waved them off as Lory and Ren strode out to a waiting car, attempting to be as unobtrusive as possible.

“The studio should be set up by the time we get there, no worries. I know you and Yashiro-san are on a tight schedule. I just happen to need to kill two birds with one stone.” Lory remarked cheerfully while on the way to the studio. Ren sighed and shook his head but kept his thoughts to himself as they reached their destination. 

They walked through the building, heading towards Tragic Marker’s marketing and publicity office, but Lory became distracted by a hallway marked off and labeled as “Box'R Shooting”. Ren shot Lory a suspicious glance but Lory ignored him and ducked into the hallway.

“Director Anna, what seems to be the hold up here?” The Box’R director whipped around in surprise as he saw Lory Takarada approach him on his set. Motioning for his Assistant Director to take over, the director met him halfway. 

“Takarada-sama! I’m so sorry to interrupt your day!” 

Lory put a finger to his mouth to motion for a quieter tone of voice. “I’m going for secrecy and the element of surprise today. I confess, once you had called me about about her needing a ride tonight, I’d been curious to see what my talent had been doing. She’s a bit of a pet project for me. This was a good excuse for me to check it out.”

As Lory settled into a chair next to him, the director leaned back in his own and happened to catch sight of an intimidating figure cloaked in ragged black clothing. He paused for a moment, and then decided not to ask. Company presidents such as these tended to be…eccentric to say the least. 

He turned his attention back to LME’s president. “Well, Kyoko-chan is doing decently at the moment. But in this scene I’m trying to capture a certain dynamic. Natsu’s supposed to be more possessive of Rumi-chan’s character here as Rumi-chan is trying to tell a boy she likes him, but maybe Kyoko-chan is unused to feeling possessive of toys because she’s not quite capturing that air.” The director paused a moment to eye the cloaked figure again as he could have sworn he heard a faint chuckle come from that direction. 

Lory spoke up, “Let me see if I follow, the boy there is who is being confessed to, and Natsu is supposed to come across the scene and then perhaps interrupt because she doesn’t want Rumi-chan’s character to pay attention to someone else? She’s used to always being able to play with her whenever she likes? That kind of thing?”

“Something like that. We’re working on different takes as most of of the blocking is improvised by Kyoko-chan so we get more natural reactions to her bullying by everyone else around her. It’s somewhat experimental on my end, for sure. But Natsu is the spark everyone else needs to react against. So, unfortunately for this scene in particular, until I get what I’m looking for in her, we’re not gonna get the right reaction from everyone else.”

Ren, situated behind Lory and leaning against the wall of the studio, was people watching. He wondered if anybody had some cigarettes and maybe a lighter. He could really use a smoke break. Yashiro-san has been so thoughtful to rearrange his schedule as this had come up and he had such a limited window of time before he had to return to the shooting in Guam. But now they were probably going to be late to his final dinner meeting because the president had yet again gotten distracted and dragged him along in his wake.

He sighed. At least he got to watch Kyoko work. He so very rarely got the chance to watch her in her element without a running commentary by Yashiro-san. It was quite a wonderful thing to experience. His gaze zeroed in on the young man and woman near Kyoko. ‘Her costars I imagine. But what’s that boy doing?’

He straightened up a little and looked closer. He might have been imagining it, but the boy kept touching Kyoko’s arm to get her attention. He frowned. But then it happened again. His frown deepened as Kyoko made more of an effort to step back out of the boy’s space and physically focus her attention more on what the crew was saying. The movement seemed almost unconsciously done. As if she’d had to do it before.

Ren was momentarily distracted by a tech crew member stepping off the set and patting his left jacket pocket. ‘Ah, bingo, some smokes’. He waited for the crew member to get a little closer to where he was at before he stepped towards him. ‘Discreet and quiet, yes I am paying attention to your instructions Boss, but also, I could use a smoke break’. 

“Hey, do you mind if I bum a light and cigarette off ya?” Ren made sure to speak in Cain’s deeper and huskier voice but with an effort to be polite and quiet. The crew member was startled to be approached by such a figure but soon relaxed and handed them over. Ren nodded in thanks and turned back to eye the contained chaos that was the set, making sure to keep track of where Kyoko was. 

Lory watched idly as crew and the cast members rearranged things for another run through, turning a few thoughts over in his head. Possessiveness huh…he mused and then smiled. “Director Anna, I may have an idea for you. Have you cleared people’s schedules this evening? Would I be imposing upon your schedule too much if you indulge me in this?”

“I would really appreciate it, actually. This may be out of my reach if I’m just not communicating well,” the director confessed. 

Lory turned a bit in his chair and gestured at Ren to come forward. Ren sighed mournfully but he put away the cigarette and lighter in his inner jacket pocket. 

“Boss?” 

Director Anna warily eyed the taller man and the President as he heard the English being spoken. 

“Cain, go greet your sister. She must be missing you.”

Ren froze and quietly began to panic. ‘Shit, what on earth is he thinking? Mogami-san was only comfortable because we were the Heels around people we didn’t know. How is she going to explain this?’

“Boss, I’m not sure… - “

“Please, indulge me.”

Ren sighed but straightened up and headed towards the set. ‘Maybe I should have been paying attention…’

He focused more on bringing Cain out and tuned Lory out, who was currently asking the director for the assistant director to make sure the cameras didn’t start rolling.

He faintly heard a, “It’s just a little secret project of mine after all. Can’t have anything leaked yet.” from Lory’s direction but by then he was already mostly Cain wanting to see his sister. 

Cain took a step closer to the set, trying to not grab too much attention as he tried to sneak a little closer to his sister. He was somewhat successful and got only a few odd looks before he made it close enough.

“Setsu.” His voice came out as a command. 

Kyoko stilled, heart in her throat as Natsu flew away from her by virtue of one simple word. In the next heartbeat she was Setsu. Setsu, who hadn’t seen her brother in what seemed like so long and desperately missed that voice. She started looking around, thoroughly distracting the people around her. 

Rumi-chan, having caught sight of Kyoko’s face changing, was rather surprised. This caught the attention of her co-star Aoki-kun. They both turned to follow where Kyoko was going. 

“Big brother?” Setsu’s brother suddenly seemed to appear in her line of vision. She quickly stepped off the set and headed towards him.

“Big brother! Aren’t you supposed to be working?” 

Cain shrugged, opening up his arms to get a hug, “I was lonely without you. Didn’t you miss me too?” His face started sliding into puppy-dog eyes the longer Setsu stood still. 

Kyoko wasn’t too terribly surprised as Cain often acted like this but at the same time she was attempting to corral Setsu’s feelings as they were in public. Ultimately, the puppy dog eyes won out. Kyoko blushed but stepped into his waiting arms. ‘So warm…’she sighed gratefully.

“Of course I missed you. Anytime I’m not with you is the worst time of my life.” Setsu murmured.

Cain patted her head and smiled gently, “Also, I’m missing my lighter. Did you take it with you?”

She stepped back, hands on her hips, “Why on earth wouldn’t you just buy another one?”

The puppy dog look was back, “But you picked that one out.”

Setsu stomped her foot in exasperation, “Fine, fine. But if I check that pocket, and it’s there, you’re never living this down.”

Rumi-chan, Aoki-kun and the onlookers were utterly flabbergasted at the behavior, the language, and the now apparent lack of respect for personal space of these two individuals.

“Um, Rumi-chan, who is that? Why are they speaking English?!” Aoki-kun whispered to Rumi.

“Rumi-chan has no idea…” And then she blushed as Kyoko started opening the other man’s jacket and appeared to be searching the pocket for something. ‘So forward! Why isn’t she intimidated by him? So amazing!’

“This is so rude! We’re in the middle of a job!” Aoki-kun was no longer whispering. A couple of crew members overheard but motioned to where the director was sitting and watching.

“I don’t think the director cares actually…” Aoki huffed at the crew member’s sidebar to him.

“Cain! Honestly, you’re never living this down! You have it right here!” Setsu shook her head at her brother as she produced the lighter and cigarette.

Cain just shrugged and smiled, “Wanna join me for a smoke?”

Setsu raised an eyebrow, “You never let me smoke with you, even though I’ve been doing it for ages. You don’t want your precious sister near that nasty stuff is what I believe you’ve said.”

Cain’s eyes flicked to something behind her as he moved in closer, “But I miss you. Don’t you want to spend time with me?” He placed a proprietary hand on her hip as he stepped nearer to her. Kyoko felt a thrill go up her spine as she felt his body heat.

“Well…, I haven’t had a break yet, so I don’t see why not.” She cast her gaze downward shyly as she tucked a couple fingers into his coat’s outer pocket.

At this point in time, Aoki had had about enough, “Hey! We’re kind of busy here! Why don’t you go wait til we’re done?”

The snarl that came across Cain’s face as he tucked Setsu closer to him frightened Aoki-kun out of his wits enough to stop speaking. Kyoko whipped her head around and shot him her murderous Setsu glare.

In Japanese, she snapped back angrily, “Don’t you dare be so rude to my nii-san! You’re not even worthy to breathe the same air as he, you trumped up toad!” Kyoko had to bite back other angry words but really, Aoki-kun’s lack of respect for personal space had irritated her one too many times today and she relished in indulging Setsu’s anger.

Aoki’s face turned bright red but he stormed away. Rumi-chan looked between his retreating back to the two scarier individuals in front of her. She timidly tried to speak up, “Um, Kyoko-san. I’m not sure what’s going on, but would you like to uh, introduce your nii-san to the rest of us?” 

In her ear she heard Cain mutter, “Ugh, just like the rodent.”

Setsu’s eyes blazed in remembered anger. Kyoko tried to control it but it came out anyway. She sneered back in response, “Certainly not! This is my nii-san! He only cares about me and I only care about him!”

She turned on her heel, grabbed Cain’s hand and tossed over her shoulder, “I’m taking a break!” The delighted smile Cain wore on his face as she did this very much disturbed the crowd of onlookers, who were making no secret of the fact that they were fascinated by these turn of events. Kyoko went to continue stomping out but then heard a deep voice ring out:

“Cut!!”   

Cain promptly stopped their exit, dragging Setsu to a stop as well. Kyoko felt her blood slowly turn to ice in her veins as she recognized that voice. She was immediately horrified at her behavior. She swung around to face the president’s direction and bowed deeply.

“I am so sorry president! Director Anna! I meant no disrespect!”

She was astonished to hear a deep laugh, “No worries at all Kyoko-chan. Director Anna was just indulging in an idea of mine!” He faced the director, “Do you see?”

Director Anna was simply stunned into nodding dumbly. Lory clapped his hands enthusiastically, “Very well done, all around!” 

Ren shot Kyoko a small but reassuring smile. Kyoko sagged in relief. ‘Just another crazy bit of hijinx by the president. Thank the heavens’. She caught Ren’s eye again and tilted her head in question. In return, he held a finger to his lips and mouthed to her, “Talk later?” 

She smiled brightly and nodded her assurance. She hadn’t even thought she’d be able to see him so soon. Maybe talk to him on the phone, but not actually see him until he returned from Guam for good. Oh she could hardly contain her excitement.

Lory clapped a hand onto the director’s shoulder as he stood up, ‘Well Director-san, I believe I’m needed elsewhere, I hope this was helpful.”

The director continued to nod in a bit of a dazed fashion. Lory let out another laugh and gestured for Ren to follow him back out. Ren bowed to the Box’R cast and crew and smiled, then turned to follow Lory. 

He stopped once as he couldn’t resist the urge to ruffle Kyoko’s hair. After smiling at her once more and getting one in return, Ren continued on. Unfortunately, as he was exiting, he also caught sight of the young man from earlier. Ren allowed another snarl to cross his face. The boy seemed both infuriated and terrified. ‘Good, he deserves it. Disrespectful whelp’. Lory turned at the doorway of the studio to check if Ren was following him, but by then Ren’s trademark sunny smile was already back in place.

Lory rolled his eyes, “You ain’t foolin no one boy.”

“Yes Boss.”

(When Kyoko and Ren next talk on their ride home that evening, she will delightedly tell him about how she nailed her scene in the very next run through. He will smile and ruffle her hair.)

4. Morizumi-san & the Day of Kyoko’s Audition

Morizumi had been berating Kyoko for sometime in between breaks of this audition as other actresses went through the reaction test. Kyoko had just stepped out to get some air after the intensity of her own, but she was doomed to have the girl follow her out. Boy did spoiled brats grind her gears. She attempted to keep quiet and withstand this most recent, and bewildering behavior, in an effort to keep professional. 

Erika-san was depending on her to make it through. And Kyoko felt she had to so she could do this role justice. And naturally, she very badly wanted to act with Moko-san. Come on girl, this’ll be worth it later! Her half-hearted attempts at pepping herself up seemed weak in comparison to the rant of one Morizumi-san.

At the same time, Ren, having returned finally from Guam and the shooting of Tragic Marker, had had a little bird (Yashiro, it was Yashiro), tell him where he could find Kyoko. He may have been a little bit unreasonably excited to see her. But finally, he’d have the time to take her out for White Day now that TraMa was done shooting. He couldn’t wait to ask her.

He pulled onto the location set, hoping he could have Yashiro just bring her out so he could ask her without causing too much of a hassle for the other people on set. He pulled onto the ditch of the road, and parked his car offset and out of the way. Stepping out of the car, he meandered up to the nearest building but caught a voice coming around the other side of the building. 

He went unnoticed enough that he caught the tail end of some harsh words. He frowned and peeked around the corner. The surprise turned quickly to a softly simmering anger as he saw a woman berating Kyoko. He quickly disregarded the woman’s disdain and gently tried to catch Kyoko’s attention, “Mogami-san, how is everything going?”

Kyoko, utterly shocked at his appearance, was stopped from answering as Morizumi immediately recognized Ren. Completely distracted from her rant, she latched onto his arm excitedly, and reintroduced herself as a previous costar.

Ren threw a partially concealed smirk to Kyoko, who appeared slightly startled by it, and said as a sidebar to Morizumi’s inane chattering, in English, “Emmental?” 

Kyoko quickly hid a snicker. Morizumi looked between them, confused. But she knew she’d just been made fun of even if she couldn’t figure out how. 

She replied angrily in the same language, “Excuse me?!” She stepped back from Ren, frowned and added in Japanese, “I would never have expected such rudeness from you Tsuruga-san.”

Ren switched to his more gentlemanly manner and smile, not letting his anger show, (even as Kyoko’s grudge’s started peeking out and happily gazed at his look) and softly remarked, “Nor I you, Morizumi-san, what on earth could my kouhai have done to you to deserve such vitriol?”  

Morizumi, embarrassed at the call-out, stepped back and let go of his arm. She had no appropriate response and so turned and hurried back inside, with one parting shot, “Mogami-san, don’t expect to win this, I have it locked down.” 

Kyoko’s brow furrowed as she withstood the sense of irritation that flared up inside at that.

Ren stepped closer to her as he put a hand on his hip and sighed, “It is unfortunate, but sometimes nepotism gets people quite far in this industry. I’m sure this is tough for you Mogami-san, but please don’t give up. Your Momiji will be worth the trials it’ll take to make her a success.”

Kyoko smiled up at him, “I appreciate that very much Tsuruga-san, it seems you always know just what to say. You and Moko-san and Yashiro-san. You’re all rooting for me. I promise I won’t let you down!” 

Ren shot her an indulgent smile and ruffled her hair, “You definitely won’t, but also, I did come here for another reason besides this.”

Kyoko batted away his hand. “Tsuruga-san, you’re slipping into nii-san. Please be more careful.”

Ren smothered his frustration and tried again. “Mogaaaami-san. I’m back two whole days early and you haven’t even said ‘welcome back’ to me yet. Is that how you’re supposed to treat an honored sempai?”

“We-Welcome back!” Kyoko stuttered with a red face as she bowed in greeting. Suddenly, she popped back upright, “Tsuruga-san, why are you back early?”

“Oh things were completed quicker than expected. It’s actually just that boring of a thing. But, more importantly, I’ve had to wait until shooting has been completed due to time constraints to ask this. I wanted to treat you to dinner for your return gift. You were so considerate in my gift I’m obligated to return the favor. What do you say? When would you be free?” 

Kyoko was not quite recovered from her first bout with embarrassment and she struggled painfully with cramming all of her emotions into a mask of neutrality. 

“Ahhhh… that’s a good question. Yashiro-san would know my schedule better than I do I believe…”

Ren smiled and urged her with a hand on her waist to go ahead of him back into the building, “Let’s go find him then, shall we?”

Kyoko was attempting to survive her acute embarrassment at his courteousness as she searched for Yashiro once they entered. “So, shooting went well? No one, um, bothered you too much?”

Ren gazed down at her fondly, “No, nothing like that happened. Everyone made sure to keep their distance. I’m sure the director helped with that.”

Kyoko smiled weakly back up at him and was rather relieved to pick Yashiro out of the other people in the lobby in that next instant. She waved him over once she caught his eye while Ren tried to not stand out too much.

Yashiro hurried over, “Ren! We didn’t expect you back so soon!”

“Yes, it’s quite nice to finish ahead of schedule. Now then, I need to take up some of Mogami-san’s time. When is she next free?” 

Yashiro was a little startled at his forwardness but quickly opened up his planner, “Well, let’s see here, ah, perhaps tomorrow evening? She seems to be free after seven it looks like.”

“Excellent! Where shall I pick you up at Mogami-san?”

“Eh heh…ah, perhaps just LME? I think I’ll be coming from a meeting about a commercial?” Kyoko was now willing herself to make it through this encounter on straight politeness. ‘Really Tsuruga-san, you’ll give a girl ideas. That’s dangerous didn’t you know’.

“I quite appreciate you helping me out with this Mogami-san. I do so hope you wear your Princess Rosa. This is supposed to be fun after all. She should be there with you.”

Kyoko shot him a confused look at his enthusiasm and effusiveness, “I will make sure to do so Tsuruga-san.”

Ren stuffed his hands into his pockets to make them behave, “Well then I leave you two to it. I’m headed home for some much needed sleep.” He turned to walk away but did not get very far.

“Tsuruga-san.

He tilted his head back to look at Kyoko, “Yes?”

“I expect to see videos tomorrow. Please don’t forget to eat tonight also.”

He shot her the smile that her grudges wailed about, “As you wish Mogami-san. As I’ve said, no matter how odd it sounds, if it’s from you, I will obey.” He bowed slightly and made it out the exit before she could respond.

(Kyoko in fact, will not be able to answer, as Yashiro will be squealing too loudly for her to hear herself think anything else other than, ‘damn that man and his playboy ways’.)

5. Of a Date that is Definitely not a Date but an Obligation

“Director Kurosaki!” Kyoko stopped short right in the doorway of the meeting room. 

“Kyoko-san. Nice to see you again. How have things been?” The director stood and offered a slight bow that Kyoko returned. 

“Oh, not bad. Busier now than they used to be.”

Kurosaki chuckled,”I’m sure, please, have a seat. The marketing execs for this company just pulled me in today and I decided to come along to the meeting to get a feel for everything. Also, I thought it might be a good idea to have someone in on this that’s rather familiar with how you work already.”

Kyoko bowed to the rest of people at the table and hurried into a seat so as not to keep them waiting. Kurosaki’s silence seemed to prompt an older gentleman to start speaking. 

“Thank you for meeting with us Kyoko-san. We’re very happy you’ve accepted our proposal. Our team first noticed you as Mio and we were eagerly looking forward to your next big role. When Box'R began airing, our dear assistant here immediately recognized you even with how different you looked. After that, we simply had to put this offer forward to you.”

Kyoko swept her gaze in the direction of said assistant and saw a shy looking young lady who peeked up at her, blushed, and then turned her gaze away again. Kyoko almost forgot her surprise at his words so amusing was the reaction. Kyoko spoke up. 

“I’m quite pleased my work is getting recognition. Thank you very much sir.”

“Please, you can call me Sakichi-san, everyone else does.” 

The last couple of people in the group then introduced themselves and they quickly delved into what they had planned out so far.

Sakichi-san folded his hands as he excitedly leaned forward, “So I really want you as part of our group of style models, so that’s what I’m planning long term for this company. The ultimate decision will be based on how well this commercial deal pans out. But, Saishi Style is quite interested in having this pan out long-term.”

Kyoko tried her best to calm down her rising excitement so she kept her professional air. This offer was sounding better and better by the minute. She nodded thoughtfully as Sakichi-san continued laying out his ideas while Kurosaki began jumping in with some of his own. 

So diverted did the small team become while discussing ideas of the style of commercial that they lost track of time. Which, on any other day, wouldn’t have been a problem. … Ren had had a full eight hours sleep for the first time since he couldn’t even remember when. He woke up the day after returning from Guam feeling refreshed, and a bit befuddled. Then he remembered the day before and what he had planned for that night. It was that thought that woke him all the way up in the middle of brushing his teeth. ‘Ah, shit, forgot to set up a quiet corner at Narisawa’s where we won’t be noticed’. 

He hurried to finish getting ready for the day so he could call up his current favorite restaurant to see if he couldn’t make reservations for that night. Once that was done he decided to relax until he had to pick up Kyoko and just flipped on the television to see what he’d had recorded. Box’R was on the list and he had to chuckle as remembered their escapade under Lory’s direction. Although, now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure he’d never gotten the full story of that disrespectful boy out of Kyoko. ‘Well, doesn’t matter at the moment’, he pushed that train of thought away as decided to turn the show on. He could always ask that evening. … Ren checked his watch again. It was pushing a quarter after seven. He very rarely knew Kyoko to be late. Unless she’d been held up somewhere. He straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the LME lobby wall and decided to go searching. They had a reservation after all. He knocked slightly against the door of Sawara’s office to get his attention once he got there. 

“Sawara-san, I apologize if I’m interrupting, but I’m looking for Mogami-san.”

Sawara’s eyebrows raised at that but he checked the time and when he saw how late it’d gotten he raised himself up from behind his desk.  

“You’re fine Tsuruga-san, it looks like the meeting is just running behind. I’ll go let them know.”

Ren waved him back down, “It’s alright, she’s expecting me as we had an appointment. I can go and get her. No need for us to further interrupt your work.”

Sawara smiled gratefully, he’d been almost done with the last ream of paperwork. 

“I appreciate that. She’s actually just down the hall, third door on the left.”

Ren nodded in thanks as he left. Attempting to not be too disruptive, he quietly knocked on the door in question. Typically, assistants were close enough to hear that and would peek out to see what was up. 

Indeed, Ren was in luck and the door opened slightly. The assistant’s eyes widened to see who knocked. 

“Tsuruga-san! Ho-how may we help you?” She stuttered. 

Ren gestured for her to come a little closer so he could be not too loud or distracting to the group inside. 

“Mogami-san and I have an appointment we need to keep” He spoke quietly, “Will you please let her know the time?”

The assistant nodded and closed the door again. She turned and swiftly walked to where Kyoko sat chatting with Director Kurosaki. She tapped on her shoulder and leaned down to whisper. 

“Tsuruga-san is outside Mogami-san. He says you have an appointment to keep?” 

Kurosaki and his assistant then had the privilege of witnessing a very red-faced Mogami-san make her apologies about needing to go at the same time as insisting that yes, she really needed to leave right then. Rather amused at the flustered behavior, Kurosaki watched the door shut behind her and swiftly stood up to peek outside to see what she’d had to leave for. 

He was not prepared to see the infamous Tsuruga-san, heartbreaker extraordinaire, smiling indulgently down at a very embarrassed-sounding Kyoko making heartfelt apologies.

“Mogami-san, you don’t have to keep apologizing. We’ll be able to leave in plenty of time to meet our reservation time. And besides, Narisawa isn’t the kind of place to blacklist you for something so silly.” Kurosaki was amazed to see Kyoko let him tuck a fly away bit of hair behind her ear. “Now then, we need to stop by Ten-san’s first. Please keep up.” Kurosaki, still dumbfounded by this behavior, watched as they walked away. 

He stirred when he felt his assistant at his elbow, “Kurosaki-san, are they dating?” 

“Maybe?” Kurosaki slipped his phone out his pocket and shot a text off to a buddy. ‘Hey, Shin-kun, Narisawa’s tonight. My treat.’ He had the sudden urge to satisfy his curiosity. …. “Why are we going to Ten-san’s? Kyoko asked as she hurried behind Ren’s larger stride. 

He laughed a little and then said, “She wanted to treat you in return for her gift, and we thought you’d like it after a hard day’s work.”

“Oh, well, thank you very much for thinking of me.” 

Ren pushed open Ten-san’s door as he replied, “Why wouldn’t we?”

“Ren-kun! Kyoko-chan! Wonderful to see you again!” Ten directed Kyoko to a closet further inside her work area. “Come along, and Ren, wait out here.”

Ren waited patiently, amused by the excited squealing of Kyoko inside as she got to watch Ten work. About fifteen minutes later Ten-san stepped back out and presented a much more refreshed looking and fashionable Kyoko. Ren watched fondly as she bowed her thanks several times over before coming back to Ren’s side so they could leave. 

Ren placed a hand at her waist to escort her back out to his car. “And do you feel fashionably beautiful now Mogami-san? Because you certainly look it.”

Kyoko ducked her head, embarrassed at the compliment, but quietly affirmed that yes she did. The sooner Tsuruga-san could get the compliment out of the way the less on guard she had to be about it. 

It was a mostly quiet car ride as Kyoko attempted to settle her nerves and shore up her defenses. Ren looked over at her a couple of times trying to gauge her mood but let her relax a little. He didn’t want her uncomfortable. It was supposed to be a relaxing and enjoyable evening. 

By the time Ren was escorting her in with a hand on her waist into the restaurant, she was almost used to him doing so. The host, as soon as they walked in, made sure to swiftly seat them at an out of the way corner table. 

“The chef will be out shortly Tsuruga-san, we know you wanted to keep a low-profile so he will come to you. May I take a drink order?” The host asked as Ren and Kyoko seated themselves.  

“I’d like a bottle of moscato, whichever the chef thinks would be best.” Ren replied. 

Kyoko fidgeted a bit trying to decide but eventually just asked for a water. The host bowed and left them to it. They waited a little bit longer in silence before the host returned and then whisked himself away again. Confident that he had a little time before the chef could tear himself away, Ren decided to speak up. 

“How was your meeting?”

“Both exciting and rather simple. Exciting for the potential, but a simple scheduling and production planning meeting.” Kyoko sent him a small smile that he returned before he caught sight of the chef headed towards them. 

The chef introduced himself and Ren turned to Kyoko and said, “Do you trust me to order? This is one of my favorite places.”

The chef beamed to hear the compliment and Kyoko felt she shouldn’t say no after that, even as suspicious as she was about Ren having a favorite place to eat, and so nodded her assent. Once the order was placed Ren turned back to Kyoko and decided to lob the hard ball right off the bat. 

“Mogami-san, I’ve been meaning to ask, why do we not discuss things as we used to?”

Blinking rapidly, Kyoko responded hesitantly, “I’m sorry?” 

“I told you how I felt your last day in Guam. That I really, truly appreciate all you do for me. Why, when I ask to reciprocate that support, can I not get that same regard from you?”

Kyoko quietly began to panic, “Um Tsuruga-san, I surely could never impose on you like that. You’re my respected sempai who has already helped me so much on work matters. I couldn’t possibly impose further. It’d be disrespectful.”

Ren frowned as he drummed his fingers on the table. “I’m afraid we’re having a miscommunication here. I have asked you a few times in the past couple weeks to let me be able to return the support you have shown me. Is it not more disrespectful to continue to disregard my feelings on this? You’re leaving me in a state that takes advantage of your emotional support without me being able to do that in return.”

Kyoko was stunned into silence as she contemplated this. Ren continued.  

“I would not bring it up, however, this is a distinct change in attitude from how we used to be free to discuss things as we pleased. I’m not going to demand to be able to help you as you need, but I do demand the respect of you at least telling me why this has changed. Have I truly caused so many issues for you that you decided that this relationship wasn’t worth the emotional support we gained from being friends?”

Kyoko almost couldn’t believe her ears. Not only had her efforts to have a more walled off self been disrespectful, but she was actively hurting Ren’s feelings. This was the worst scenario possible. 

“Tsuruga-san, I do apologize. I had not realized how I had been behaving. I could not tell you how or where or why it began, but if you truly consider us friends, I will do my utmost to treasure you as not only a respected sempai but also as a friend.” 

Ren, having released some of his pent-up frustration, gently smiled at her downturned head. “Please look at me Mogami-san.” She shyly raised her gaze. “I consider you one of my best and truest friends. Please don’t forget that.”

Kyoko blushed at the compliment, (and she feared that she’d never really be not embarrassed around him by this point) but she smiled back at him, “I promise I won’t Tsuruga-san.”

“That’s all I ask for. Now, what have you been up to recently?” The conversation soon turned to lighter topics. (Kyoko had done quite well in school recently and was quite proud. Ren found it adorable.) But then they were soon distracted by being served their meal.

“This is so good Tsuruga-san, thank you!” Kyoko was delighted by the taste of her beef dish. 

“I’m glad I have your trust in this aspect of my eating habits at least,” he teased. Kyoko shot him a look and promptly held out her hand. 

“Speaking of, your phone please.”

“Yes ma'am.” He snickered and happily turned it over to her. As she watched his videos, he cast his eyes about the restaurant. He’d planned for it to be a later dinner as it was a weeknight and he thought it might be less busy. It seemed he was in luck again. He saw maybe a couple groups of diners near him so there would be few public witnesses to this. 

He rummaged in his coat pocket for the jewelry box he’d stashed in it. As he heard Kyoko finishing up the last video he pushed the long box across the table. Startled, she gazed down at it in disbelief. 

“Tsuruga-san, you didn’t.” He whistled innocently as outrage began to cross her face.

“Tsuruga-san!” 

“Tusuruga-!“ He leaned forward and covered her mouth with his hand as her outrage made her voice start to get louder. 

“We can do this the hard way, or we can do it the easy, less public way. What do you say?” he had to grin at the fire that blazed in her eyes as she remembered where they were. ‘My God do I love a woman with a temper.’ Trying to tuck his urge to tease away, he continued, “This is truly what I got you as a gift. I just used the dinner as an excuse to get to spend time with you not discussing work.”

Kyoko’s eyes widened over his hand. She quickly slipped her hand over his to tug it off her mouth. “Tsuruga-san!”

“Words other than you calling my name please, Mogami-san.” The urge to tease was definitely winning. 

After a bit more huffing Kyoko finally ground out the words, “How do you possibly think I can accept this after everything else you’ve done for me today?”

“May I ask you instead, why do you feel unable to do so?”

Kyoko stared for a second, “Because you already did so much for me.”

Ren smiled, “Please, do you think you could list what specifically I did?”

“Well, you set this all up with the chef, and the restaurant. You and Ten-san made me look nice. You picked me up, when I was late, and drove me.”

“To elaborate, anyone can call this establishment and ask for that. That’s nothing special. Ten-san had been wanting to dress you up just for fun for a while. Because you treat her well and she wanted to return that regard. As I asked you a favor to meet with me tonight, I would naturally take care of the expenses and arranging to get you there and back. It’s only polite. Now what in this list of things have you deemed as something of so high value that you won’t let me give you your actual gift?”

Kyoko, throughout Ren’s speech, had wilted further and further into her chair. “You are cruel today Tsuruga-san.”

Ren eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I fail to see how refusing to allow your excessive inferiority complex affect actual social convention is cruel Mogami-san.”

“Was this all just an excuse for you to lambast me for my behavior?”

“Mogami-san, please, would you open your gift?”

“Answer me Tsuruga-san. I think I deserve that much.”

Ren groaned and rubbed at the crease this discussion was causing to appear between his eyebrows. “No Mogami-san, I did not, I apologize for giving you reason to believe that. But, as you may already be aware, I find myself not being able to control my tongue when you get me riled up”

He blew out a frustrated breath, and tried to soldier on, “To be perfectly frank, I do find your lack of acceptance of what I would to give you be it my attention, or help, or even gifts, frustrating. You seem to be able to accept these things from your other friends with little resistance. Can you see where I’m coming from?“

Kyoko picked at her food, shifted her gaze back to the box, and then back up to his worried face. He might have had a point there about that. He may have seen it as going back on her promise of considering him a friend. Friends had certain privileges, she knew that very well. She stuffed back her grumpiness and reached out to take the box. 

She was glad to see Ren’s face clear up at the action. She flipped open the lid and promptly dropped it back down on the table once she saw what was inside. 

“Tsuruga-san!“

With a voice heavy with irony, he leaned over the table and mimicked, “Mogami-san!”

Letting out a faint groan she let the back of her chair catch her exasperated self. Ren chuckled a bit to see such a dramatic thing come out of the typically reserved Mogami-san. He risked taking her hand and pulling it closer to him. She cracked open an eye just in time to see him flip the box open and take out the bracelet inside. The delicate gems were exactly like Princess Rosa in shade and depth of color but much tinier in size as they were spread out across the chain work of the bracelet.

Ren motioned between her wrist and the bracelet, “May I?“

Kyoko, grumbled unhappily but nodded her acquiescence. She struggled mightily with containing the words she wanted to say about playboy ways. ‘He’s already explained this. This is a gift because I was thoughtful in my gift. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.’

Ren promptly blew that out of the water as he finished clasping her bracelet on her wrist by giving her hand a brief kiss. He smiled up at her as she snatched her hand back, “For your perseverance Mogami-san. Any prince will be lucky to have you.”

Kyoko sniffed as she held her hand close to her, “You know I’m not interested in that Tsuruga-san. I’m focusing on my work so I can bet the best actress I can be. So I can be the number one actress in Japan!“

Ren sent her back a fond smile, “Regardless Mogami-san, you deserve to be treated well. Don’t let any man take advantage of your pragmatic attitude and have them say that you don’t deserve to be treated the best they can treat you. That, Mogami-san, is self-respect.”

Kyoko suddenly felt incredibly, incredibly dumb and felt every bit of the naivety of her seventeen years. 

“I am so deeply sorry Tsuruga-san. Have you been trying to make that point this entire time?”

He chuckled and held up a hand, his forefinger and thumb close together, “Just a little bit.”

Kyoko felt a truly content smile spread across her face and bowed slightly in her chair in thanks, “I truly do appreciate what seems to be your neverending wisdom and patience Tsuruga-san.”

“I’m glad to hear that but more importantly. How do you like it?”

She smiled at him brightly, “I love it! It’s the perfect matching set.” She continued in the vein for some time, babbling about beauty and grace and fairies galore. Ren could only smile at her indulgently behind his glass of wine.

Two tables ahead of them and to the right, Shingai-san, Kurosaki’s buddy and sempai from their college's motion picture program, turned away from the couple’s table and could only say to Kurosaki’s smug face, “Damn. I guess I owe you that thousand yen.”

(When Kyoko wakes up in the morning she will first see her bracelet and necklace. It will leave her with a smile for the rest of the day.)

~Fin

A/N: Any feedback is welcome! Thank you everyone that participated in this week of KyokoxRen prompts. Your work inspired me throughout this week! It gave me the passion to get this completed, so thank you all. Regards, Artsy

[lindyhunt]

Meet the Markles: A Comprehensive Timeline of Meghan’s Family Drama

Since the beginning of Meghan Markle and Prince Harry’s royal romance, Markle’s family — in particular, her half-siblings — have been more than willing to give their two cents about their baby sister. Since the engagement of the couple in late 2017, the siblings have become that much more involved with the lead up to the royal wedding. Here is a look at the family’s drama leading up to the Royal wedding on May 19.

Meet the Family

Before we dive into this, let’s go over Meghan Markle’s family:

Doria Ragland is Meghan’s mother. Doria and Meghan’s father, Thomas, divorced when Meghan was six-years-old. Doria has met Prince Harry, and he thinks that she is “amazing”

Thomas Markle Sr. is Meghan’s father. The once lighting director filled for bankruptcy in 2016, which has turned to one of the same sources of family accusations against Meghan. He now lives a seemingly laid back life in Mexico.

Samantha Grant (who now goes by Markle) is Meghan’s half-sister. They have the same father, and Samantha is 17 years older than Meghan. She is has been the most outspoken member of Meghan’s family since her courtship with Harry in 2016. She is said to be writing a memoir called “The Diary of Princess Pushy’s Sister.” According to Samantha, it is less a tell-all and more to do “with the interracial evolution of this country through the lens of my life and my family since the civil rights act until present.” Keep in mind that while Meghan Markle is bi-racial, her half-siblings are not.

Thomas Markle Jr. allegedlyIs Meghan’s half-brother. They also share a father and he is 11 years her senior. He was arrested last year for holding a gun to his girlfriend’s head and has been said to struggle with alcohol issues in the past. He has two sons, Tyler and Thomas Dooley (Thomas Jr. Jr.?), with ex-wife Tracy Dooley.

It all started when…

December 28, 2017: Markle’s slams Harry for saying the royals are “the family she never had”

Meghan’s siblings were quick to respond to a BBC interview where Prince Harry referred to the royals are “the family [Meghan] never had.” Brother Thomas Jr., told the Daily Mail that their father was “extremely hurt” over this comment and said that “obviously, she had a family. She was very privileged. She got everything she ever wanted.” Half-sister Samantha also responded via Twitter (which she has now made private), saying: “Actually she has a large family who were always there with her and for her. Our household was very normal and when dad and Doria divorced, we all made it so it was like she had two houses. No one was estranged ,she was just too busy. Read my book complete with facts and photos.”

Jan 10, 2018: Samantha Markle calls sister out for engagement photo 

Photography via instagram.com/KensingtonRoyal

Half-sister Samantha did an interview with  In Touch where she gave insight on the actress’s childhood, as well as speaking about their father, and saying that Meghan’s mother Doria has become “possessive and controlling” over Meghan. Samantha claims that Meghan owes much her success to their father, saying that  “he gave her so much of who she is.” She then went on to call-out her half-sister about not helping their father with his financial troubles, mentioning the $75,000 Ralph & Russo gown she wore in her engagement photos. “If you can spend $75,000 on a dress, you can spend $75,000 on your dad.”

Feb 5, 2018: Samantha says that she’s disappointed in Meghan

In an interview with Australian news show A Current Affair, Samantha Markle continued to call out Meghan for not helping their father financially since he declared for bankruptcy in 2016. “I don’t think that he feels that she owes him but, that is how I see it,” said Samantha. She then went on to seemingly discredit Meghan’s philanthropic work by saying that she’s see “a lot of situations where celebrities visit a place that is poverty stricken and they’re wearing impeccable clothing. They themselves are wealthy, and it really feels like a photo opportunity. So is a little exploitive in my mind.”

February 8, 2018: Thomas Jr. says that Meghan is “ignoring” his plea for help

Meghan’s brother Thomas Jr. told In Touch magazine that he has received no help from his younger sibling in light of her royal engagement. According to Tom Jr. the connection to Meghan has caused a lot of media scrutiny for him and his family. “There was a time where people were following me around at work, taking pictures and posting horrible stories about me and my family saying I’m a white supremacist, a drug addict and a dealer, all this crap that just isn’t true,” said Thomas Jr. Thomas’s lawyer has been in contact with the palace lawyers in hopes of getting some help with the negative press, but the interactions have been less than successful.

February 24, 2018: Samantha’s ex-husband speaks out

Samantha Markle’s ex-husband, Scott Rasmussen, told The Mirror that the royal couple should refrain from inviting the bride’s half-sister to their nuptials. According to Rasmussen, his “fame hungry” ex-wife is exaggerating her relationship with Meghan. “Harry and Meghan need to know the truth about her. She’s the last person who should be at Windsor Castle,” said Rasmussen. Rasmussen also said that his ex-wife “should act with some dignity, keep her mouth shut, and leave everybody else alone.” Samantha responded by saying that Rasmussen “wants to take advantage of my sister’s high profile. Scott vowed to get revenge when we got divorced. He is saying anything he can right now to disparage me.”

Mar 11, 2018: Brother Thomas Jr. does not receive wedding invite 

An inside source told UK news outlet Express that Meghan’s brother, Thomas Jr., will not be invited to her wedding. The source said that her brother did not receive an invite due to all the interviews he has done with the media about his sister. “If he would quit talking to the media, Meghan would probably be more into the idea of inviting him,” said the source.

March 26: Meghan’s nephew and former sister-in-law confirm that they won’t be going to the wedding

Photography via youtube.com/goodmorningbritain

Meghan’s nephew Tyler Dooley and his mother Tracy have revealed that they have not been invited to the royal wedding, according to and interview with Good Morning Britain. Tyler said that they have not received an invite to the wedding but remains optimistic, saying “At this point, who knows? This all goes back to Meghan, it’s her day and her happiness.” Tyler’s mother Tracy, who was married to Meghan’s half-brother Tom Jr., added “I don’t think we’re going to get an invitation, and that’s fine.We’re OK with that and we’re supporting her. We’re so proud of her.”

March 28 2018: Meghan’s estranged family are revealed as wedding correspondents 

An inside source told Us Weekly that Meghan’s half-sister Samantha, nephew Tyler and ex-sister-in-law Tracy are planning to fly to London to be correspondents for the royal wedding.

April 14, 2018: Meghan’s nephew making commemorative cannabis

Tyler Dooley, son of Thomas Jr., is planning to make a special hybrid of weed to celebrate his aunt’s marriage. The unofficial weed for the royal wedding is appropriately named The Markle Sparkle. If for some reason the couple would like to try the custom cannabis, he told the Daily Mail that he would be “more than happy” to provide them with a sample, being that they come to Oregon where Dooley is a licensed medical marijuana grower.

April 23, 2018: Meghan’s niece begs family to leave Meghan alone 

Meghan’s niece has spoken out in hopes that her family will leave her aunt alone, according to Metro UK. The estranged-daughter of Meghan’s sister Samantha said  she is “embarrassed” by her mother’s actions and that her mom’s interest in having a relationship with Meghan came after she started dating Prince Harry. “She wanted to be nice, to be friends, to say how much she loves her sister – but after years of telling me and the rest of the family how much she hates Meghan, how much of a narcissist Meghan apparently is and what a horrible woman Meghan is, which isn’t true at all.”

May 2, 2018: Thomas Jr. tells Harry not to marry Meghan 

Meghan Markle’s half-brother has sent a letter to future brother-in-law Prince Harry as a final plea to call of the wedding.“Meghan Markle is obviously not the right [woman] for you,” writes Thomas in a letter shared exclusively with In Touch. Markle’s brother then goes on to accuse her of abandoning their father after using him for money. “She easily forgets if it wasn’t for my father she would be [bussing] tables and babysitting to pay her old debt off.”

May 4, 2018: Palace confirms that Meghan’s parents will have roles in her wedding

Today we have provided an update on the Wedding of Prince Harry and Ms. Meghan Markle.

Read the full statement here: https://t.co/bhrPnJtrNm

— Kensington Palace (@KensingtonRoyal) May 4, 2018

Days after Meghan’s half-brother told Prince Harry and In Touch magazine that their father was snubbed of an invite, Kensington Palace confirmed that both Markle’s mom and dad will have roles in her wedding. “On the morning of the wedding, Ms. Ragland will travel with Ms. Markle by car to Windsor Castle. Mr. Markle will walk his daughter down the aisle of St. George’s Chapel. Ms. Markle is delighted to have her parents by her side on this important and happy occasion.” wrote a Kensington Palace spokesman.

May 12, 2018: Thomas Markle’s staged photographs

Photos of Meghan’s father taken by paparazzi were proven to be colluded by Thomas himself, along with photographer Jeff Rayner. The Daily Mail reported that the pair were caught on the security footage of an internet cafe in Mexico staging a photo of him looking at images of his daughter and Prince Harry. Other photos that were proven to be staged include him being measured by a “tailor” (who turned out to be an assistant at a party goods store), browsing through a book about English landmarks at a Starbucks and lifting weights. It’s reported that Meghan’s father could have received up to £100,000 for the photos.

May 14, 2018: Meghan’s father pulls out of wedding, reveals he had a heart attack and

After he was caught staging photographs with paparazzi, Thomas Markle Sr. has said he will not attend his daughter’s wedding. Markle Sr. told TMZ that his motives for the images were not “principally about money.” He was hoping improve his image but now he “deeply regrets” it. The report also revealed that Meghan’s father had suffered a heart attack six days earlier, but checked himself out of the hospital so that he could go for the wedding. However the embarrassment of the staged photo scandal has caused him to opt out of walking his daughter down the aisle.

May 14, 2018: Half-sister Samantha takes credit for staged photos

On the same day, Samantha Markle did an interview with British TV show Loose Women, defending her father and taking responsibility for the staged photos. “I have to say that I am entirely the culprit. As we know, the media can take very unflattering photographs on their casual days and blow it way out of proportion…I said ‘really you need to show the world that you’re getting in shape and doing great, healthy things.’” said Samantha. She then went on to say that the whole ordeal was not money motivated and that if her father did receive any compensation for the photos it would be “a pittance.” In addition, Samantha also confirmed that the last time her and Meghan spoke was in 2015, when she called Meghan to talk about their father.

May 15, 2018: Samantha Markle gets called out by Piers Morgan

Photography via youtube.com/goodmorningbritain

Samantha returned to Good Morning Britain for an interview with a less-than complimentary Piers Morgan. Piers had her confirmed that the last time the sisters saw each other was in 2008, and  she re-confirmed that their last contact was a phone conversation in 2015. Samantha then went on to blame the media for her father’s heart attack as well as the negative portrayal of their family. Piers was having none of it, and responded by saying that “We can’t respect it coming from a woman whose been trading her very tenuous relationship with Meghan Markle, whose had one conversation with her in ten years and has been popping up on the world’s airwaves…Some may say it’s pretty rich coming from you, Samantha Markle, to come on television and blame media vultures.” Samantha then went on to tell Piers that he shouldn’t believe everything he reads just because it’s in quotes. Yikes.

May 15, 2018: Family arrives in London

Also on this day, Meghan’s nephews and former sister-in-law were photographed arriving at London’s Heathrow airport. Though they have not received invitations to the royal wedding, it has been previously speculated that they are going to be TV correspondents on Meghan and Harry’s special day.

May 15, 2018: Thomas Sr. is having surgery

Finally, Thomas Sr. told TMZ that he has changed his mind and now wants to walk Meghan down the aisle. However, he now has to undergo heart surgery this week which means it’s unlikely that he will be able to make the nuptials. To really add to things, Meghan’s father said that the open letter his son sent to Prince Harry at the beginning of the month is what triggered his heart problems. Another thing that came out of this whirlwind of an article was that Samantha revealed  that her father did receive compensation for the staged photographs, around $1,500 plus royalties (pun intended?).

May 16, 2018: Thomas Sr. in surgery and Samantha Markle does another interview

As it stands, Meghan’s father’s surgery is said to be scheduled for this morning. In the meantime, Samantha Markle added to her had a chat with TMZ about, you guessed it, Meghan Markle. The reporter tells Samantha that they’ve been told that Meghan has made it very clear that she does not want her half-sister to be speaking to the press.”There’s something in this country known as free speech she doesn’t have a copyright on that and she’s not going to tell me that I can’t speak my own life or my father’s where it’s a matter of public self defence because the media is disparaging us…She’s way out of her league to tell me that I can’t speak,” responded Samantha.

Samantha then went on to say that she and her half-sister do not have a relationship as of the past year, blaming the media for their falling out. However, if we look back two days, Samantha confirmed that the last time the sisters spoke was in 2015. I’m so confused.

[whatdidisay]

Naiive Girl Learns Her First Lesson in Journalism

 When you’re plugging away at the task at hand, sometimes its hard to remember that things don’t occur in a vacuum. A vacuum you say?

 Yeah, that’s my new favourite saying. I can’t take credit for it actually, my year twelve history teacher coined the phrase. ‘History doesn’t occur in a vacuum” he would write on the whiteboard at the beginning of each term. Little did I know that this phrase would become my mantra almost two years later.

 Basically, it means nothing can be separate from outside influences and factors. The world is going on outside your bubble and different people have different intentions, perspectives and are affected by different circumstances. One thing I’ve learned from my first year of journalism is that as the story unfolds, you need to change along with it, be flexible and gain new perspectives as new facts arise to the surface. You need a thick skin and have to turn those negatives into positives. Okay, that was two things but you get my drift and this was what I had to do.

 I’m going to tell you the story about how my efforts to write a good story led to my first encounter with the public. All of a sudden I was my eleven year – old self again but this time it wasn't me whining to my mum about how cruel girls are. I was being ridiculed online by someone who I knew nothing about but they sure thought they knew me and went about making me feel small and inept. My clear intentions to gain a balanced argument were distorted and I felt I had to prove the impossible to someone that wouldn’t listen. I stumbled across something bigger than I had imagined would happen and consequently, for the first of many times that will happen in my life, I was made to feel inferior for being a woman, for being young and most importantly seeking truths.

 But this isn’t a rant, a clap-back or an expose; it's about not backing down, keeping my head up and going with my gut. It's about the risk and reward of putting yourself out there and trusting your instincts.

 So let’s get to the beginning, where my new and surprisingly keen interest in political reporting led me to the new government scheme called ‘Cashless welfare’. Ladies and gentlemen, cue the dream sequence and get ready for an insight into how the government is attempting to slap a big old hello kitty band-aid on drinking, drug use, and welfare recipients.

 Previously trialed in Ceduna and the Kimberley regions of South Australia, the cashless welfare scheme was made in an effort to control where people on Centrelink payments spend their money to combat drug, alcohol, and gambling in “problem areas”. What wasn't considered, however, was freedom of choice, punishment to those who are doing the right thing and the way the government has made a “quick fix” without directly addressing the problem. The card to be introduced in the wide bay region of Queensland in 2018, will see limited spaces in which recipients can spend their income with 80% only accessible on the card. Shoppers on welfare will not be able to shop online, go to bottle shops or make online payments. 

In theory, this seemed like a great way to ensure taxpayer money is not being wasted on substance abuse. However, this would be an application to all welfare recipients, including pensioners and people in rural areas who can only access vital things online. The more people I spoke to, the more stories I heard of disempowerment, the stigma they feel they are associated with as people who receive government assistance and punitive punishment. What about creating more jobs, directly addressing addiction and finding ways to stop drug and alcohol dependency without further isolating these people from the community? It all seemed so simply not right to me but I knew I was writing a story, and that would mean I needed to hear from the other side. So I sought it out, for proper journalistic inquiry.

 I can definitely say I had a romanticised image of a real underdog story in my head. I would give a voice to the voiceless, people would listen and change would happen. But this was politics and I found out the hard way that the media wasn't as squeaky clean as I was and soon I knew many people had been burnt before.

 Of course, I had heard the sayings, ‘All journalists are vultures’ etc., etc. but they didn't bother me because I would shoot back with “I’ll change that, you’ll see” and this is still something I truly believe. This is all well said and done, until you come across someone who’s been burnt before, doesn’t want to change their mind and quite frankly, doesn’t really care.

 Hey, I’m not going to hold it against him/her/whoever they are. History doesn't occur in a vacuum and I’ve learned (I know, shocker) that people who don’t agree with my opinion could be right. Hey, maybe there is not wrong and right, black or white.

 I got in contact with, let's call them Larry, like the name of the swollen gland I had on the side of my neck a few weeks ago. This Larry defintely was more a pain in my neck though. 

 I got into contact with Larry, who was behind a group of people who were fans of the cashless welfare card. I figured I need a story that evenly represents both sides. It didn’t matter what side I was leaning toward it mattered that both sides were evenly represented so the public could form their own opinion.

 I shot off my message and began with my little spiel.  “Hello I’m Georgie a journalism student from blah blah and would like to know your opinion on blah blah”. Larry got back to me in a very well-spoken and polite manner and I was positive he would teach me something and round out my story nicely. But when I wanted to know exactly who he was, what kind of demographic typically were for the policy and if I could speak with him over the phone, Larry got nasty.

 When he started to speak badly of journalists and was extremely hesitant to speak about much, I had a gut feeling and decided it was best to abandon this lead. As my uni friends would say jokingly ‘My journalism senses are tingling’ but this wasn’t in a good way. I backed off and stopped replying and I thought it ended there.

 Two days later, Larry sent me another message, this time asking if he could read my article. I felt really uneasy at this point as it was not intended for publication and as someone with a social media following, I knew it would be right in his hands. He could twist my words so I decided the best thing was to block him, move forward and not worry. After all, I had politicians, welfare recipients, and some great sources. It was disappointing but he wasn’t giving me anything and I tried to respect that.

It was one day before due date and ironically I had just returned from a talk with journalist Tracy Spicer who spoke about how women are made to feel intimidated and disempowered in the media industry. Little did I know I would get my first taste of that just hours later.

 I was walking into my consultation with my tutor when a message from one of my other interview subjects popped up on my phone. It was a screenshot of a post on a public page slamming me and my credibility. She wrote underneath the picture ‘Please explain’.  I re-read it four times before the gravity of the situation hit me.

 The post supposedly was warning others about my credibility and questioned my honesty and integrity. It pulled me down peg, by peg with language such as ‘little miss’ and “supposed aspiring journalist”. My last name was there for all to see, there were threats to contact my university and more people who knew nothing about me were accusing me of feeding information that I did not have, to people I did not know! He wanted to attack me and my credibility for asking him questions? I couldn’t fathom why someone would not believe that I was trustworthy. I couldn’t pull my self away for a second and see that from his side, I could have looked just a sketchy as he did. But then I thought, emotions are running high, around this issue and with the help of my tutor as I used up tissue after tissue in her office, Larry gave me the greatest gift, a better story.

 Would I really let someone whoever they are, intimidate me from behind the keyboard? Twisting my words, saying that they ‘smelled a rat’ when I was just trying to do my job? When I was willing to hear them out.  No, because that's exactly what they wanted. I pulled my shoulders back, walked out of the office with a new purpose and used what I had to tell an even greater story. The gravity of the way that people were responding to this policy, how they got nasty, or even how they were willing to speak about it with such passion told me that this was an important story to tell.

 “Use this” one of my tutors told me when I sat there, determined that I needed to scrap the story altogether. This was what it was all about and I am so glad that I became aware of the outside factors that will creep in and try and tell me I can’t do something because of who I am or call me names over the internet, to my face or wherever. I’m ready, bring it on year two, come at me all of my career.

 “Tell him to go F*** himself,” my other tutor said.

 So in less harsh language, thanks for the High Distinction Larry.

 Love,

“Little Miss Honesty and Integrity”

[krystynasierbien]

There’s a Glenn Greenwald in all our Heads — He Mustn’t Be Destroyed.

So you found my message in a bottle on Copacabana beach, or in the sea; which evidently you got in to ‘fetch’; Congratulations,

Hiya,

It is right now twilight in my leafy sanctuary, and the amphibian purr of the rainforest — that ethereal constant, by now so familiar and so dear I know that to it, I have surrendered an enclave of my being — has prompted first, inclination to cleanse these half century worn muscles with my nightly yoga skit on the porch as the dogs run around outside like mad cats beneath the encroaching romance of the moonlight, then the compulsion to write this letter, by hand and by candlelight to you, a complete stranger, with free time only a lack of internet access could realistically inspire.

You see it poured with rain earlier; there was yet another power-cut, and the lines have been down for hours now. Which is too bad. My sort-of-boss wanted to get in touch this evening to discuss whatever legal issues hover over my latest, and for that reason, presumably, LOL, still yet to be published article.

The delay’s all been thanks to The Deatheaters at GCHQ: Who once again have gotten in touch with their specious appeals to “wahhh, ah, don’t publish, national security!” when in this instance all they seem to want to do, in fact all they ever seem to want to do is cover their own sorry incompetent asses. And don’t get me started on Professor Sir David Omand De Pfeffel III or whatever his name isn’t — that guy. That sneering, contemptuous, duckbilled platypus of a man who, if not shuffling along the corridors of the War Studies department at Kings College London, mumbling to himself and his colleagues about “The Terrorists” can be found on UK television waving classified documents redacted to the point of incoherency in Channel 4 News’ John Snow’s face; lambasting him for “not covering the story accurately” and causing “needless fear and confusion.” Omand’s open disdain for the public is obscene and astounding. The UK is astounding. But would Omand debate me Live, and face to face, about the broader implications of mass surveillance at its current technological velocity, hmmm? No, of course he wouldn’t. Because obviously he knows that GG (emphasis MINE) would wipe the floor with him.

Stepping back, you know it’s actually quite funny, ironic even. I think? I’ve mentioned this in interviews before of course although it certainly bears repeating here too. My sort-of boss, this guy, this Ebay guy, Pierre Omidyar. Mmmm-hmmm, that’s right, get this: Well, Pierre can’t get in touch with me a lot of the time because of the outages, yet he’s a multi-billionaire computer and technology whizz with coalescing political, philanthropic and entrepreneurial goals (that’s PPE to you, British establishment! LOL.) The point is none of that stuff makes a difference here. Not money nor status nor expertise, and tidbits such as these keep me grounded. You know, those little reminders that even one of the most influential and tech-savvy people in the world, not to mention a bestselling author and journalist whom reports on cutting edge computer technologies as weaponised by the burgeoning global security state, aka yours truly, me, Glenn Greenwald, that’s right bitches, are subject to the whim of a tropical downpour and temperamental public infrastructure, just like everybody else. Which means often Pierre and I are unable to email or even call one other for this reason, let alone encrypt our communications. Hell — I can barely encrypt!

But no matter because here in the rainforest. The rainforest in which I live. The rainforest from which I conduct most of my adversarial business in between regular trips back and forth to the US to attend MSM interviews & a variety of public and private speaking engagements, nature’s obstacles usually prevail. And I respect that.

I love not man the less; but nature more. I love not man the less, but nature more. This quote, by Lord Byron of all people rolled over in my head as I walked the dogs today, and it seems to make more sense with the so-called passage of so-called time. Nevertheless civilisation, free speech, civility, order — not too much though — also justice, always justice, justice applied to the largest and yes at times even the most mundane aspects of public life, has really always been my passion. And yet still, still, I feel most at home in the lushness, solitude and natural lawlessness of the jungle; where civilisation’s most concrete hallmarks and affectations are relatively scarce. I am conscious of this duality and honestly I’m still not sure what to make of it. What I do know is that the eleven adorable rescue pups David and I adopted from the local santuário animal a couple of years back really have transformed our lives for the better. We feel a deep-seated affection for our unruly four-legged companions; who have become a necessary counterforce to the many stresses our working hours burden us with. Each has a unique personality and complex emotional needs. This is how I personally have experienced every dog I’ve crossed paths with in all my forty nine years. And you know what? To me that’s life affirming. You see the dogs help me help myself let go of all that rage. The kind of debilitating rage only interaction with you the people could ever insight (LOL).

The birds living here with us in this sprawling primeval forestry we call home love it when it rains, but they sing louder when it pours, and whenever they do, and whenever it does, echoes of real-life tweets streak through the sodden air and then into my grateful ears whenever the wind’s blowing in my favour. The humidity here reminds me of my home state Florida, a place I left an inordinately long time ago now. The strangest of personal circumstances tend to develop in the lives of Floridians who actually leave Florida by the way. The meme is true. I am, by no memes, an exception to this ‘rule’ and yes I’ve certainly led a variegated life so far. Like many if not most people have. It’s not that I’m secretive about my past, nor about how I got here either, per se. It’s just that it’s none of your damn business is it really. And I think perhaps you should respect that. Enough about Cocky Boys already, pedants. It’s been done. Twice already. Whatever.

I was a member elect of the *drumroll* Lauderdale Lakes City Council recreation advisory board by the time I was eight. So admittedly I’ve been aware of this ‘game’ for a long time now, starting my own journey on the other side of the public/private tracks before relinquishing my post a year later to pursue other projects, namely cub scouts, at age nine (LOL).

I ran for council even, unsuccessfully it would eventually transpire although boy did I learn a whole lot about US electoral politics during that election campaign, when I was seventeen. Growing up, my grandfather was a Lauderdale Lakes City councillor for many years — as far back as I can remember in fact — and it was from him I learnt that the principles and constitutional rights of all must be upheld ‘doggedly’ (LOL) no matter how odious that token, idea, or indeed even that person might be.

I’m actually a bigger picture kinda guy really, and I’m funny and nice as anything in real life. But I also know the intricacies of the system because I’ve been there, okay, an insider of various descriptions, with first hand experience of these institutions in operational flux as their representatives often superficially interact with, lie to and clash with one another. You have no idea how much of a mess all this is of course. But I do. I know the system’s geared towards the moneyed, the unashamed pursuit of the ego; that in a comparable sense the law exists to infantilise, imprison and fine the unruly masses while invariably loop-de-looping for those wealthier entities, who admittedly I jam with from time to time, even though it’s obvious, self-evident maybe, that even ‘The Good Billionaires’ see buying political power as but one manifestation of the natural order of things. Which troubles me of course. Only how much really? And what if they’re right? I’ve heard about the sinister echoes along D.C. corridors: I’ve seen the grubby fingermarks lining the walls and yes I’ve spoken to the beasts that frequent the hallways and the conference rooms. (Obama voice) I get it, really.

There really are glimmers of hope though and yet rarely do we ever focus on them. As I write these words a small but dedicated army of human rights activists and free speech lawyers are in perpetual battle with the encroaching security state to carve out and maintain as safe a legal space as possible for whistleblowers and political dissidents alike. These are people who use their skills for good. Who refuse to serve ‘corporate interests’ and choose instead to secure the rights of whistleblowers everywhere by bolstering as best they can the safety net that whistleblowers are legally guaranteed.

I upheld the constitutional rights of a corporation myself before. A tobacco company no less. Whatever god is knows that I have. But I soon realised I was emptier for it. That I was merely existing. I started to blog soon-after before upping sticks, leaving my life in New York along with a relationship that had sadly long since run its course behind, and moved to Rio in ’05, where I was blessed enough to meet my soulmate, David Miranda, and then find this wonderful paradise for us to live in before my ‘second-wind’ career of sorts really started to take off. And now the rest, as they say (LOL), is history.

I started blogging as online media began to challenge and disrepute the establishment press and, I think, redefine the global media order entirely. People liked my work (LOL); I managed to land the Salon gig; The Guardian one after that. There, I was able to draw attention to NSA mass surveillance as the story crescendoed. As the NSA insiders continued to come forward and as that constitutional gut punch, The Patriot Act, was finally being acknowledged for the abomination it so demonstrably was and continues to be within broader political discourse. However nothing could have prepared me for the Snowden thing and everything he has entailed since. It’s been the most insane thing. An admission here, just a small one because, well, I’ve been candid thus far and it only feels right that I continue in this vein. So here goes:

It actually wasn’t a Rubik’s cube Snowden was carrying with him in the hotel lobby the day we met. As the Oscar Winning film Citizen Four suggests. Nuh uh. Ed had a Rubik’s cube, which he’d planned to use for the purposes that we described to you in the film, only turns out that he lost it the day we arranged to meet. We filmed all that crap afterwards. He was closing a window in his hotel room that morning when he sneezed, and his natural response was to move his hand over his mouth, like any good boy would. As he did so, the Rubiks cube, which was in his hand at this point, I have no idea why and to this day neither does he — slipped from his grip, and then ricocheted off his cheek, somehow. As if in slow motion; right through the tiny opening in the window. I mean really, what are the odds?! He was in his hotel room on the 51st floor so obviously he couldn’t leave the building for security reasons. When Laura and I heard the news via p2p we were absolutely devastated. How could this even happen?

With only a small window (LOL) of opportunity to amend the plan; the only thing we could think of was thus: We would meet Ed in the lobby just as planned, but instead of holding a Rubik’s cube, he’d be the guy in the furthest right hand corner of the room, facing the wall. Slowly, but purposefully banging his head up against it. Only little did we know, at that exact spot, just three days previously a decorative Chao Gong had been mounted on that particular stretch of wall. So when we arrived, there Snowden was: A young, scrawny looking man (Laura & I had expected him to be of retirement age up to this point) stood there banging his head against it as three startled receptionists from the lobby-desk bustled frantically around him, offering a glass of water, pleading with him to take a seat. Laura, Ewen and I hurried over when we spotted him and when he did the same he followed us to the end of the lobby and then out into the hallway where we exchanged nervous, awkward, but sympathetic glances before stepping into the lift together, going up, exiting, and then walking up to the hotel room in complete silence.