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storiesofsvu · 3 years

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Bruised Peach Ch 2

Jackie Sharp x fem!reader warnings: language, minor chaos, mentions of alcohol, teeny mentions of shit that went down in CA

With the way everything had been shifting around with your schedule, you ended up with an extra couple of days off from Shaw’s. Since Becca was still in school full time, she’d cashed in some vacation days from the pub to have some personal time off, making sure she was focussed where she needed to be in the meantime. You were both thankful when they lined up and you were able to spend that time together, most of it included lounging on your couch while you binge watched a new series, but you were also eager to keep Becca in high spirits. You met with Rob for brunch in the morning, and hit up a spin class in the afternoon before swinging through the grocery store to pick up supplies for dinner and a couple of different alcohol choices.

Returning to your apartment you split a couple of snacks and switched off showering while you tossed in a load of laundry to get ready for the week ahead. You threw together an easy stir fry for dinner to at least get something healthy into your systems as you chatted through your week prior. Becca needed a little bit of help on a couple of her assignments, so you read through them, offering your advice, and proofread the essay she had due Tuesday.

As always, your second screen was quietly playing the news in the background, there wasn’t too much political coverage right now as things were settling down with Heather out of the race. While you were halfway through proofreading Becca’s paper, something did catch her eye on the t.v. At first you were worried it was more bullshit related to Heather and thus, the Dunbar family, but instead, it was Jackie that held Becca’s attention.

“She’s dropping out!? Fuck! She had my vote!”

“Becks were you even actually following this election? Or was it just for the drama?”

“That’s a real nice way of avoiding my statement….” She eyed you suspiciously, “you really are turning into a politician.” She crossed the room back to the kitchen island, opening the bottle of rose you’d picked up earlier. You nodded when she made a gesturing sound toward you and she poured out two glasses, passing one to you as she dropped back onto the couch. “Am I supposed to vote for fucking Underwood now? He gives me the creeps.”

“He is not my favourite person to work with, I’ll tell ya that much.” You muttered, “at least Claire keeps him on a short leash.”

“Good.” Becca huffed, sipping at her drink, “I’d rather be stuck with him for the next four years than a republican president, so I guess I don’t really have a choice.”

“Sometimes it’s about the lesser of two evils…” you shrugged and she chuckled, “and way to avoid my question..”

“A bit of both.” She admitted, “I guess I just got caught up in the actual politics along the way. The drama was just an added bonus.”

“There was more drama than actual politics.” You pointed out and that brought a bigger laugh from Becca.

“Oh I am well aware.” She rolled her eyes, “did I tell you that E! Network got in contact with the family’s lawyer a couple weeks after Mom got sacked?”

“No! Why?”

“They wanted to pitch a reality show of our family, to start airing in the new year.”

“Please tell me you said no to that.”

“Oh a hundred percent! They wanted us all in one house, like fuck I’d go back to that shit. Besides…wouldn’t have been half as entertaining without Jordan…”

“Becks…” your hand reached out and gave hers a small squeeze

“God he would’ve absolutely loved that shit too.” She laughed heartily, turning to you with a smile on her face, “can you imagine it though? They wouldn’t even have to feed us fake scripts or shit, just like, watch the absolute bullshit just going up in flames.”

“I’m not gonna lie, it would probably have pretty high ratings.”

“You think?”

“I know.” You laughed, “since Heather dropped out? The numbers of viewers of debates has significantly dropped.”

“God there’s probably YouTube compilation videos of her life just imploding on itself…”

“Okay…please promise me that you’ll never google yourself or look that kind shit up.”

“I won’t.” She waved her hands in surrender, “I got my fair share of that shit already. I don’t need a refresher.”

“Good.” You smiled, sliding the paper over to her, “this is really good. There’s a couple spelling and grammar things I edited for you but aside from that I see a high grade coming your way.”

“You are…the absolute best. Thank you.” She scooped up the paper, sliding it back into her school folder and moving to put it back into her bag.

“Proofreading shit is like, half of my job at this point.” You shrugged.

“Yeah…about that…do you still…have a job? Or are you gonna be back at the bar full time now?”

“What’d’you mean?”

“Well with Jackie dropping out, doesn’t that mean her campaign team is no longer needed? Or do they like, redistribute everyone into other places?”

“It’ll all work out and fall into place, trust me. I know I’ve got job security this time, trust me.”

“Hmm…” a wicked grin took over Becca’s face and you braced yourself for what was about to come out of her mouth, “is that just cause you happen to be fucking your boss?”

“Becca!” You swatted at her as she crossed back to the couch.

“I mean! It’s true!”

“Technically, she’s not my boss.”

“You better start sucking up to Underwood then.” She teased and you rolled your eyes.

Thankfully, the washer beeped and saved you from any more humiliation. Tossing the t.v remote to Becca you moved through the condo to the laundry room, beginning to sort out what could go in the dryer and what needed to be hung up to dry. You heard a little commotion coming from the main part of the house, and wondered if Becca had decided to order dessert. Your anxiety shot to Heather, and wondered if she’d decided to show up out of the blue, but considering there was no amount of yelling, you were pretty sure it wasn’t her. You finished up the laundry, started the dryer and padded back out to the entryway, a smile broke out on your cheeks when you saw who your visitor was.

“Jackie!”

“Hey peach.” She greeted softly, accepting the gentle kiss you greeted her with.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I just figured I’d stop by for a bit before leaving for Iowa in the morning. But I see I really should’ve texted first, I don’t want to intrude on girl’s night.”

“Oh don’t worry about that.” You insisted.

“It’s totally fine.” Becca assured over the rim of her drink, “did you want a glass?”

“I still should have texted.” Jackie murmured to you and you shook your head.

“I told you you’re more than welcome here whenever you want. Becca said she doesn’t care, you can come in.”

“Well then I will happily accept that glass of wine.” With a smile she glanced back over to Becca who eagerly jumped into the kitchen to pull down another glass.

“Can I ask something?” The younger girl questioned as she slid the wine over to Jackie, who nodded, “if you just dropped out…why are you going to Iowa?”

Jackie and you exchanged a knowing look, and you left it up to her on whether or not to say anything on the matter. With a small grin she turned back to Becca.

“I’ve endorsed Underwood in his campaign. Meaning that hopefully, most of my votes will transfer over to him come November.”

“Okay but why just drop out? You were doing pretty well from what I could tell.”

“Because I was never going to win.” Jackie replied bluntly, “even with the support I had, I would have had to side with someone I hated or would butt heads with constantly, and I didn’t want to put someone on my ticket that I didn’t support.”

“Alright, I guess I get that.” Becca sighed, “sucks though, you had my vote.”

“Well…” she smirked, “I can still have your vote….it’ll just be for second in command, not first.”

“Wait what?!” Becca suddenly jumped up, glee on her face, “are you sure?!”

“Yes.” She laughed, “I got the deal in writing, there’s no way Francis can double cross. Not to mention if he did, I’d be able to publicly say something about it and he’d lose all my votes.”

“That’s amazing!” She suddenly turned to you, “you’re gonna be like, the first fucking gay lady!” That brought a laugh all around and you swatted at her arm.

“Claire’s still the First Lady!”

“To be fair, you will be the first gay one...kind of…” Jackie commented with a smile that you returned.

“I think it’s far cooler and progressive that you’re going to be the first not only female V.P, but also the first openly gay one.”

“How ground breaking the two of you are.” Becca teased and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes again.

“We were about to start a movie, or a t.v binge if you wanted to join?” You asked Jackie, gesturing towards the living room.

“A quick episode or two, but that’s it.” She assured you, “I’ve got an early morning, I can’t stay too long.”

“Ya know..” Becca started, “if you two wanted to disappear into the bedroom I could just like, turn the volume way up.”

“REBECCA!” You hucked a pen at her as she cackled, scurrying away to the living room. You turned to Jackie, giving her the best sympathetic look you could, apologizing for your friend and she simply chuckled, pressing a kiss to your cheek as she followed you to the couch.

You relaxed with each other for a couple of episodes, and true to her word, Jackie pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head after the second episode, nudging at you so she could get up.

“Oh c’mon..” you attempted to protest, pouting up at her as she stood from the couch, “just one more episode?”

“Peach…” she smiled, caressing your cheek, “the flight leaves at eight, it’s an early start.”

“Fine.” You grumbled and she affectionately pinched at your chin.

“You’ll be watching tomorrow? Another girl’s night?” She gestured towards Becca who let out a near snort.

“I’m watching with Claire.” You replied.

“No offence, but I’m done with the whole politics thing.” Becca replied, “I was really only watching to see my Mother’s life get blown up on national television.”

“Becca…” Jackie started softly, “I know that she put you through hell, and clearly wasn’t a fit parent, and pulled a lot of crap over the years, but…wouldn’t it be worthwhile to at least cut her some slack considering recent events?”

“Believe me…I tried.” She sunk back into the couch, taking a hefty swig of her wine, “I showed up at the house last week. Thought I could help her, or the housekeepers, whoever! To go through Jordan’s shit, figure out what was worth keeping. Maybe make sure she was eating and not devouring bottle after bottle of vodka.”

“What happened?” You asked quietly.

“I walked into the kitchen to find a half naked twenty two year old raiding the liquor cabinet.”

“Oh god.” Jackie dropped her face into her hand.

“Who, naturally, proceeded to freak out thinking I was another one of Mom’s affairs, accusing me of being a dirty slut.”

“Please tell me your Mom cleared the air?” You winced as you asked and Becca laughed darkly.

“She didn’t even own up to actually having kids until I called her ‘Mom’. Safe to say I high tailed it out of there and want absolutely nothing to do with her. She sent a card that said she was going to change and blah, blah blah, it would take time for her to be able to do so, meanwhile she’s not even fucking trying. It’s always the fucking same with her. I’m honestly surprised she hasn’t showed up at Dad’s door with her tail between her legs. Then again…maybe she does actually know just how done he is with her? And that in the long run she really did hurt him the most. She’s so fucking manipulative….if she ever actually starts seeing a therapist they are in for it.”

“Why didn’t you ever mention this?” You asked gently.

“Because she put you through more than enough bullshit. I didn’t need to drag you into my mess while you’re out there trying to win an election.”

“Becks…future reference. I don’t care what it is, I am always here for you to talk to or vent about crap.”

“I know.” She assured you with a squeeze to your hand.

“I’m so sorry for all of this Becca…” Jackie frowned from her place on the arm of the couch, “I wish there was more I could do.”

“Well….” Becca shrugged, “you are my godmother…and I’m kinda out of a Mom for the unforeseeable future?”

“I will be at every dinner and family holiday that you want me to be.”

“It’ll be nice for Dad and me to actually have some company. It’s weird suddenly being a family of two.” She sighed, and then quickly looked up at the two of you, “not that like, I’m super bummed about it or anything! I’d done my best to separate myself from the Dunbar clan years ago! I only went to the shit I was forced to go to. I just…I know it sucks a lot for Dad….”

“We’ll be there.” You assured her, squeezing at her hand.

“As long as you’re not too busy off playing Vice President.” Becca replied with a sly grin and you scoffed as Jackie laughed. “But really…I’m super happy for you Jackie. You deserve this. I mean…you deserve to actually be President, but if this is what you’ve got to settle for, I guess it’s the best.”

“Give it four years.” Jackie replied with a small smile, her phone suddenly beeped, interrupting the evening. She glanced down at it, sliding the notification open, “ugh,” she rolled her eyes, “it’s Frank. Reminders about tomorrow, I should really get going.”

“Okay.” You and Becca murmured nearly in unison, Becca’s attention redirected to the t.v to give the two of you a moment of privacy to say goodnight.

“I’ll see you soon Peach.”

“Good luck.” You replied with a grin as her hand came to caress your cheek, “not that you need it.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, then ducked over to press a gentle kiss to your lips, “I’ll see you Wednesday?”

“Bright eyed and bushy tailed.” You smiled back, humming at the kiss she left on your forehead before bidding Becca goodnight and leaving the apartment.

__________ @jamiethetrans @natasha-danvers @imlike-so-gaydude @svulife-rl@bumblebear30 @molllss @nocreditinthestraightworld @yourtaletotell @cerberus-spectre @emskisworld @ex-uallyactive @addictedtodinosaurs @Rosiewritesagain @imaginaryoperagloves @disn3y7 @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @swimmingstudentchaos891 @annegilletteslostwh0r3 @drduckthief @stone-hearted-seymour @yesterdaysgone @whimsicallymad @alexusonfire @mmmmokdok @lazarettta @sia2raw @ladysc @1-lindsay83 @mmemalwa @ms-calhoun @holycrapraewth @poisonedcrowns @wannabe-fic-reader @when-wolves-howl @wannabe-fic-reader @newyorker14 @lawandorderuswnt

#Jackie sharp #jackie sharp x reader #jackie sharp series #house of cards #Heather dunbar #bruised peach #classified affairs

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persephonesinfernos · 4 years

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ignoti nulla cupido | part eight.

summary: natasha finds you once again to be able to keep her an tony’s promise to keep you safe, but how would they react when they’ll learn about the little dirty secret you have been keeping since you left bucky’s side?

word count: 1128.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader.

warnings: angst, and bucky being a dickhead.

author’s note: I’m sorry but I hate bucky, it doesn’t matter if I write him like this, I hate him. and please, please, do not hate me.

ignoti nulla cupido series | taglist | masterlist.

“A kid?” Steve asked astonished.

“Yes, Cap. A kid, a little human being.”

Suddenly the whole room erupted in noises, everyone was asking questions about the revelation. Every single one of the Avengers wanted to know the name of the boy, his age, who was his father, why HYDRA took him, why (Y/N) didn’t tell anyone about him, etc.

Everyone was stating their opinion on the mater but Bucky, Bucky remained sited in a dazing state. Not a single movement was perceived by Natasha that was solely focused on the father, little did he truly know about (Y/N)’s son.

“Okay, that’s it,” Tony’s voiced was heard loudly over the murmuring. “Romanoff, why didn’t you tell me about this? Knowing about the kid would’ve made things much easier all this time.” The billionaire was clearly fed up with the present issue.

“Because Tony, I didn’t know,” the redhead spat back tired of Tony’s shit. “I didn’t even know until a few days before I went for her, until it was probably too late,” her hands up in the air, signalling her frustration. “Don’t you think I would’ve love to know that my best friend was pregnant? To be with her during the pregnancy, during the whole thing? She did it all by herself Stark,” Romanoff’s orbs stayed focus on Tony, but she was still very aware of Barnes’ movements. “Besides, it was not my secret to tell, not my confession to make. If she didn’t it was because of something and I always have trusted her judgment.”

Bucky stood up abruptly, his chair falling behind. Every single pair of eyes darted to him, however, nobody said anything as he walked out.

“Where are you going Buck?”

“Steve, I just… I just need to know,” a distraught whisper was all Steve could make out of his friend.

“Let her be, maybe you don’t like what she has to say.”

“I don’t care anymore.” With that, James Buchanan Barnes left, ready to discover what was truly going on with her former lover.

(Y/N) was pacing around her room, she knew she told Nat to tell her big secret – most of it, at least. The team deserved to know if they’re going to help her out on this, but did she make the right choice? Maybe it was her who should’ve let everyone in her secret, maybe she should’ve of talk to Bucky first.

An ear-piercing bang startled her, turning around as she pointed her gun at whoever dared to walk in there without her permission. A blank pair of blue orbs staring right through her, her soul ripping apart at the sight.

“A child (Y/N)?” Barnes’ voice was calmed down but his heart, his heart was beating so loudly he was afraid it would break through his thoracic cage.

(Y/N) was still pointing her gun towards him, too afraid to even breathe. This was the moment she dreaded for the past three years, all the things she had thought of saying to his father’s son at some point evaporated from her mind.

“What do you want Barnes?” She blurted out.

“By starts, to not being pointed with a gun. Secondly, I want to know.” Bucky’s eyes began to look everywhere in hopes of a sign. A sign that he was doing the right thing, that what his instincts were screaming to him was wrong.

“I don’t have anything to tell you. You were crystal clear last time we were standing in front of each other, do you remember it? ‘Cause that last time is still my worst nightmare James.” Just speaking out his name broke more of her soul, not anymore was the name of the love of her life, but also the name of the child he fathered and now was at the claws of the same people that made Bucky’s life a living hell.

“(Y/N)….” He spoke softly, his feet stumbling to her in caution but something made him stop dead in his tracks. An image on an Ipad, a picture of a little kid with striking ice blue eyes, sharp jaw and short brown hair that was cut oddly familiar to a past life.

(Y/N) noticed what was going on but she was too afraid to try anything, she just stood still and watched how Bucky’s face changed from sorrow to realization, realization about your little boy, about his boy.

“Is that him?” Bucky’s voice was just a whisper, his fingers tracing the screen.

Taking a deep sight (Y/N) decided to tell the truth, nothing could be more broken. “Yes, name’s James. A shy three-year old that doesn’t need to blurt out a word, just the way he looks at you is enough to know what’s in his mind,” (Y/N) approached Bucky’s slowly, she was behind him now and even though Bucky didn’t budge when she placed her hands on his shoulders, she could sense the storming coming. “Just like his father” (Y/N) spoke, tears running freely down her cheeks.

Bucky snapped out, turning furiously to (Y/N) “He’s my son and you didn’t think I deserved to know? To know I had a kid.”

He towered over her, making (Y/N) feel terror at how his metal fist clenched in his side.

“You told me to get the fuck out of your life, that you didn’t care anymore about shit that happened to me or that will happen. That I was a demanding bitch.” (Y/N) chocked out, not looking at his eyes.

“You gave birth to my fucking son (Y/N), and now Hydra took him because you weren’t able to protect him.” She was sure that by now, someone had heard all the noise coming out of her bedroom even thou Bucky’s words were a mere whisper.

“I wasn’t able to be there, to watch him grow, to protect him because of you and your fucking insecurities and fear.” He was now inches away from her face, his metal hand grabbing (Y/N)’s wrist so tightly she was sure there were going to be bruises on it tomorrow morning.

(Y/N) tried to say something but it was like she was paralyzed, the only thing she was able to do was to watch the cold demeanour of the person she still loved and hated equally.

“This is on you (Y/N). Whatever happens to him is on you, just pray that we will get to him in time.” Bucky said voidly now, it felt like the Winter Soldier was the one standing in front of you.

He let go of (Y/N), her back hitting the wall behind her. As Bucky was about to cross the threshold, he stopped and without glazing her way he spoke “I’m getting a lawyer, as it is clear that you can’t be responsible for my child.”

forever taglist: @everythingisbeautifulposts | @rogersparkerbarnes |

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peachymess · 6 years

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The lawyer update

Well, as some of you probably saw, I had a little vent session a few days ago, about a lawyer. The most keen of you may already know I got a lawyer for something in October last year - but I suppose it’s an open secret to most of you, so I’ll just start from the top.

I’m a long time mentall health struggler, and due to this, I have ended up needing welfare for the time being. The plan is to build a solid foundation to stand and grow on. I can’t focus on recovery before my life has stability. And that’s what I’ve been working on. I went through a several years long process of applying for this and that - only to be ALLOWED to apply for welfare. It was made clear to me that it was not a matter of “if”, but “when”. I talked to my case worker about getting a loan to get a permanent apartment (moving once a year has really worn me out over the years and keeps me uprooted), and she told me it seemed like the natural progression. Long story short, I got a loan from the bank based on what I would get from welfare - AHEAD of actually GETTING welfare (yes, that is how confident my caseworker, psychologist and bank were that I’d get welfare; after all, I meet every criteria and then some)... and then I finally get my answer. I am granted welfare! Hooray! And they agree I’m 100% in need (you can be granted different %s based on how well/non-functioning you are. They gave me 100%, meaning they absolutely agree that I do not function well enough to maintain any kind of self-sustainable income.

HOWEVER... I am eligible for “young welfare” as well - basically a slightly heightened income, granted younger people on welfare. This is the same as regular welfare, just an extra 1.5k a year or so, since you tend to be sitting on less at the time of falling ill, if you fall ill early in your life. This is for people who fell ill before turned 26 and who are still “young” - criterias I meet. The only difference in criteria from young to regular, is that they are generally stricter with “young”; you have to be “like super seriously” ill, not just legitemately ill.

The loan I got at the bank was based on the income I’d get including the “young” bonus (that I was told I’d get because I am exactly the kind of person this kind of thing was created for)... but in the same letter as where they told me they’d granted me 100% welfare, they also told me they’d be denying me the young bonus. Because, and I (loosely, from memory) quote: “although we do not contest that you feel like your illness is hard to bear, we do not see that it affects you in your day to day life”. This is absolutely laughable to absolutely everyone involved, except them. I am definitely affected (as they even agree themselves, giving me full welfare). I won’t go into detail to prove I’m affected, because this is not about me defending my claim as ill because the base of this post is that I AM ill, and thus what the process has been to claim the help I need because of it. But let’s just say: I am ill, and my life consists mainly of just managing this illness. Not only did they ask me to write a several pages long essay on my day to day, in one evening, knowing full well it would be a mental strain on me, but then they proceed to not take it into consideration. I didnt know whether to laugh or to cry (- so I did both, lol). I have an inkling that they deny people young bonus on their first application because it’s more money out of their pocket to say yes, and because ill people don’t have the energy to do all the paperwork needed to complain. Not to mention, in addition to the bonus, if you are granted young welfare, they are supposed to reimburse you for the time between applying and being accepted too (which often takes up to 8 months) - and in some instances, from the time you fell ill, which in my case can potentially be a lot of money give the fact that I “fell ill” a long time ago and only gradually got worse so nobody quite knows where to pinpoint the start. But whatever, irrelevant, because I wasn’t granted young bonus anyways. Cute. I’m sure it’s got nothing to do with that.

Anyways, because of my situation, I was eligible for free justice aid. Which nobody, of course, informs you about because they don’t want you to know. But my mother stumbled accross a story about something similar to mine and so she contacted a firm and they said yep send that sucker over and we’ll help. So I got a mail from them saying I had the right to their help for free (save a 150 fee + the cost of them getting all my records from doctors, about 250USD in the end) so I signed and they set off to work... or so I thought. This was in October. I only had 30 days to send in my complaint to get a second review from the welfare guys - and the lawyers did indeed send in a letter telling them that a further complaint letter would be sent. But in November my lawyer told me she had gotten all my records and would need a few weeks to read through them... then she went silent until mid- March. Count your fingers, guys. Start of October till mid March is half a year. Minus the month she used to get all my records, she’s been leaving me on read for 5 months while my deadline for complaining ran out early November.

After calling her and mailing her a lot, she finally sent me a mail telling me she was sorry and that she had been home with sick kids and been sick herself. And you know. That’s fine. But not for half a year. Either 1. She took a sick leave, at which case she should have notificed me and/or assigned me to one of the others in the team, or 2. She didn’t transfer me because she didn’t take sickleave, in which case she should have been able to find the time to send a single mail updating me on why it was taking half a year.

In either case, thanks a lot for half a year of extra worry (why wont she answer? What if they won’t accept the complaint now since it’s been so long? What if she’s just gonna screw me over?). But whatever. What had me choking earlier this week, was that - after finally communicating with me again in March and promising to have the job done “this week” two weeks in a row - she contacted me again week 3, fishing about my job (the one I do for about 5 hours once a week and struggle to handle) until she had enough details to tell me that “oh that’s too bad, you don’t meet the requirements for rights to free justice aid now. So, you’ll have to pay me for the work I’ve done this half a year, and either do the rest of the job yourself, or keep paying me for my work going forward on top of what you owe me so I can complete the job - of which the majority still remains”. 1. I don’t have the money to pay her for half a year of jack shit. 2. If I don’t also then continue to pay her for the job I initially hired her for, I won’t win my case and get the money I’m entitled to either and this will have been a major loss, plus I’ll keep struggling to pay down my loan which is too big for me since it was based on higher income.

What’s extra bitter is I JUST blew all my savings on a vacation coming this August and I felt like an absolute ass for having spent what was apparently needed to be a buffer for shit like this, on tickets I can’t return. I had my priorities all wrong, and it made me feel like it was my fault for using my money so wastefully, even if I’ve been saving for years and going hungry a lot for when I run short. How could I complain about money to her or welfare for that matter, when I could spend my savings on a trip? I’m already feeling the consequences of my irresponsible actions and I’ll work to make up for them - however, I am making a consious choice to separate these two matters, as my rights still stand, bad prioritizing not withstanding.

The thing is, she was hired to contest the denial of money aid. She was aware from the getgo that I’d be receiving welfare (and exceed the limit of rights) come November. So she either should have not told me I’d have right to free help because she’d take more than a month to write a counter complaint (at which point my financial situation would change by about 300USD a month, which made all the difference), or she should have done the job within that allotted time. She told me I had this right going in. She did not tell me I needed to remain in the same financial situation throughout the entire case - nor did she tell me she’d use half a year and then some.

Instead of lying down and taking this beating like a dog, I have long since learned that institutions and the likes, will generally not go out of their way to help you. So I stay on my guard at all times, for better or worse. Had I not, I might be dead right now (throwback to that time I was severely siuicid and lost my right to a psychologist out of the blue because I was being transferred from one psychologist to another - que about a year and a half of “end of the rope Peach” writing complaints and making calls and working to deman that help back, I’m still so pissed that they apparently drop deathly ill patients like that; what about those not strong enough to contest this?!).

So I went to tumblr to vent about this shit situation of me suddenly oweing a lawyer an ungodly amount of money for half a year of “work” when I already only barely get by with my too big loan etc. and I was lured into it being told I would NOT have to pay. I found it hard to believe that she didn’t drag the days out just to make me enter into the new financial situation where I just barely exceeded the limit.

But while I vented, I also knew that once I was done blowing some steam, I’d get back on my horse and work until I found a solution. There is no other option. In the meantime, I sent that mail to my mother. She got in contact with my lawyer while I was having a cry, and the lawyer admitted that she didn’t know enough about the stipulations around this particular law/right, so she would send the case to her boss to have a look at.

The day after or so, she got back to us and she said that aha j/k you DO have the right to free justice aid! I’ll get right on the case and have it done within this week or the next!

See, this is the lesson, kids: don’t just lie down and take whatever people throw at you. If I had just said “ok guess I’ll just have to scrape together what I can throughout the year”, I’d have ended up in serious debt to a lawyer I didn’t even owe another penny. I’m not telling you to be difficult in every single instance (don’t become the “I want to speak to your manager about this slightly smaller than average chicken nugget”-woman); pick your battles - but do, indeed, pick some of them. The big ones. Because you don’t always have to accept all the shit you’re being presented with. Sometimes there is something in it for you to put your foot down.

TL;DR: lawyer hired to help me win a case of state withholding money I have the right to, suddenly demands a lot of extra money for her work, which would put me in severe debt. But I said um no and she retracted her demand. Bullet dodged, but oh man the unnecessary stress.

Or: the story of how I have the best mom in the world.

#personal #👍#life is easy #so grateful i live in norway though #i am taken care of after all #it just doesnt come for free; you have to be really god damn strong to be sick

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renegadesrpg · 4 years

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Family Matters Part 1: Female Bonding. Truely and Celia CROSSOVER WITH Rekindled

Truely: *It'd been a hell of a day. I was overwhelmed with the weight of everything I'd witnessed and learned. I couldn't bear to see my shop. I assumed it was a disaster zone and just, I just couldn't. So, I hid. Under the covers of my bed.

Everything hurt from my head to my toes, but most especially my heart. It’s not that I thought Zav was lying, after all I'd seen the evidence of his truth all over my shop. I just needed time to regroup. I didn't want to see or talk to anyone, so I didn't.

I called my staff and gave them the week off, with pay. Not sure how that'd work but I'll manage. Then I got under my covers and fitfully slept. Dreams were non-existent because I didn't sleep long enough to have them. I kept waking, crying, then repeat.*

*Now the sun will be rising soon and I need a distraction and my regulars will be wanting morning bakes. So, I shower, dress, and make my way downstairs. I hear a noise from the shop and steel myself for another confrontation.*

Alright assholes...*I try and keep steel in my voice as I throw the back door open only to be knocked back by the smells of cinnamon and vanilla.* Celia?

Celia: *I'd watched over Truely while she slept. Part of the job and ghosts don't need sleep anyway. It had been a rough night from what I could tell but ghosts don't have the gift of dreamwalking so short of waking her, there was nothing I could do. And I figured waking her would just freak her out more than she already was. So when I was sure she was rousing and knowing she was protected up here in her apartment, I shimmered back down to the shop and began work. I wasn't sure what exactly she'd had planned for today so I went with cinnamon rolls and apple turnovers to start. Can't go wrong with those. Humming to myself as I put the first batch in the oven, I heard my name.*

Hey Truely, lemme' get these in and then you can tell me what you need for the day.

Truely: *Whoaaaaa. I was not expecting this.* My shop is ok? I, um, I don't know what...thank you Celia. I don't know what happened as I expected a disaster but thank you. *I decided to close my unhinged jaw and get to work.*

It smells wonderful in here. Let me get the coffee going. *I grabbed my favorite apron and let the smells and sounds of a kitchen in use soothe me as I went out to the front and got the coffeemaker going.*

Let's see, cinnamon rolls and apple um turnovers? So, should do some cookies, thinking chocolate chip and monster. Then maybe some peach cobbler sweet rolls for today's special. Whatcha think?

Celia: *Closing the oven door and smirking as I turn towards her* Of course your shop is ok. Didn't Zav tell you it would be? I could tell you a lot about that reaper angel of yours, but one of the top things would be that he keeps his promises. Cookies are simple enough. Add some coconut haystacks to that. I've got a good stovetop version that we can have out there in 15 minutes for early customers looking for something unusual. If you'll bring me a mug of that joe, two sugars please, I'll get the peach cobbler sweet rolls started.

Truely: *I smile as I make my way to the coffee pot. I pour us both a cup, adding sugar to both plus cream in mine, then walk back to the kitchen.* Haystacks will be great! Here's your coffee. *I hand her the mug

But honestly so much was going through my head I probably spaced it. Oh! I should make chocolate peanut butter oatmeal no bakes. It can be a day of unusual. *I chuckle as I grab a bowl and the ingredients for my no bakes.*

Are you ok after all that happened yesterday? I'm guessing it was more fun for you, you know the whole kicking ass thing. Does your husband do what Zav does? I know it was mentioned he was away and that's why you came but now...I know it’s not the exact story right?

Celia: *tilting my head at the cinnamon roll dough* I've got enough of this dough to use for a couple dozen peach cobbler rolls. If I use it, I can set another batch to rising and we can have both cinnamon rolls and peach cobbler rolls when the doors open and some of both baking for 10 o'clock brunch crowd. Do you get that here? *rolling out the dough as I speak,*

Declan, my mate, is like me, a ghost. We aren't reapers. We were recruited to serve Zav's boss... well, it's complicated, he wasn't Zav's actual boss then, he'd stepped back from the reaper corps for the last thousand years, but he's back now... *sprinkling some spices and sugar on the rolled out dough, then opening canned peaches to make the filling* Anyway, his boss, Sin, wanted someone to cook for him and keep his properties in order. He said. I think he was just lonely. Reapers don't need to eat and he has lawyers and accountants to keep up with his money games. But when we died, Zav came for our souls, to help us move on, you know? But we weren't guaranteed our next lives were to be together and then Sin showed up and told Zav to leave us to him and so *shrugging* we stayed.

Declan is supposed to be bodyguarding Sin right now. Like that's actually going to work. Sin does what Sin wants to do. The other reapers just wanted an early warning system in case Sin got jumped, someone to give them a minute to get to him. And who they could count on to shout out to them when it happened because they know Sin won't. And since winning the whole good vs evil showdown depends on Sin, it's kind of important he lives to do it. *snickers* They actually got him to stay on house arrest for a few weeks, but they had to know THAT wouldn't last.

Truely: *chuckles* Sounds like a man, er, male. Stubborn as hell. But this Sin must be a hell of a male to get such love and loyalty. I think it's wonderful he made sure you could stay with your mate. He must value the strength that comes from those things. Smart.

I smile as I drop the spoonful’s of batter on wax paper before putting the trays into the fridge to cool and harden.* I appreciate you sticking around. It’s nice talking to someone who gets what's going on. And any info on Zav you wanna share, feel free. *chuckles*

Hey how are the buns faring? Need help?

Celia: Sin /is/ a good male. He was a good man when he was human. Zav was his mentor then, you know? How they became friends. Zav told you he came to teach humans, right? It was a long, long time before we were around, but I know the story. Zav found Sin when he was just an ex-slave who had turned a rebellion into an army that was conquering war-lords left and right. Zav befriended him to teach him how to govern the lands he was conquering, to be a good king for the people. Something most of them hadn't had. And Sin became a very good king. But eventually it fell apart. Not because of Sin, unless you consider him being too successful and too tolerant a fault, but because a god got jealous of him. So Sin died and became Death's first reaper. And when that same god took Zav's family, Sin came for him and offered him a place with the reaper corps. So, yeah, he deserves the loyalty he gets. As for us, well...Sin lost his wife in all that. He's looked for her soul for thousands of years and never found it. I think he saw Declan and I as what he'd hoped to have. So we were lucky he was watching that day. *spooning the filling into the dough and then rolling it up.*

Can you hand me a knife so I can cut this into rolls?

Truely: *I grab the knife closest to me and hand it over* Here you go. Zav is a teacher but now a reaper. He's still a teacher at heart though, I think. I take it Sin has yet to find his Queen? It’s a concept you learn about, reincarnation, and you think it's cool but you never think it’s really real. You know? *shrugs as I start the monster cookie mix* I wonder if my past self...hmmm, never mind. You could go crazy trying to figure some of this out. If I may ask, what was your life like when you were alive? Were you and your mate in charge of your people? Were you here in the states?

Celia: *taking the knife and slicing the rolled log of dough* I think Sin's given up on finding her. It worries them, going into this. He'll fight to win, but he's lost his reason to survive it. *Laying the rolls one by one on a prepared baking sheet, being careful of the filling.*

Sure, you can ask. *laughs, then sobers* Wolfen can live a long time compared to humans. A couple of centuries, if they're allowed to die naturally. But wolven culture doesn't allow for that often. It's a survival-of-the-fittest world. And there's a very specific order within the packs. Declan was our pack's Beta, the second in charge. In the 20th century that basically meant he was in charge of security. His status gave me the status of second among the females. As such, I was in charge of domestic operations, including cooking. It was just luck that I went to culinary school before I was mated. All that stuff I told you was true, by the way. It was just in the early 1980's. *smiles reminiscently* We were the best fed pack in the northern Hemisphere.

Truely: *smiles and chuckles* I bet so. You are very good at what you do. That includes kicking ass by the way. *I start spooning the cookie mixture onto the pans making sure to space them evenly.* So, I mean if you were seconds then what happened? Don't people usually go after the leaders?

Celia: *I'm quiet for a moment. Some memories are hard to talk about. Putting the peach rolls in the oven, I take a towel and wipe my hands before tossing it into a laundry receptacle. Taking a breath, I meet her eyes. The world isn't what she thought it was and I wouldn't be doing her any favors by not telling her all of it now that she was aware of the bigger picture.*

They went after /all/ of us. Every male, female and pup. None of us survived. *Inhaling again and then huffing it out.*

We were a very prosperous pack. Our territory encompassed a large area that was rich rare earth elements -- stuff that's used in everything from computer screens to jet engines to communications systems. And another pack wanted it. They infiltrated us and then one night overrode our security systems. *My eyes grow bleak at the memories*

Declan was running the late watch that night. He was one of the first to die, but he managed to sound the internal alarms first. Our Alpha rallied as many fighters as we had left in an attempt to defend the families but there just weren't enough fighters left. We were overrun.

Truely: Oh dear Gods. Celia. *I squeezed her shoulder letting her feel my empathy. I figured she wasn't much for hugs, especially from a near stranger, but I needed her to know I was there.*

Thank you for sharing that. It couldn't have been easy. Does the pack that murdered your still exist? Or did they get their just rewards? *I slipped the first two trays of cookies into the oven.*

Celia: *shrugs* The world isn't exactly what you thought it was, Truely. You deserve to know all of it. The good and the bad. Wolven culture carries the survival-of-the-fittest philosophy to the extremes, yes, but it’s not so different from other cultures. Very few are live-and-let-live. Greed and jealousy are motivations in the human world too. It's just not usually so blatantly done. *sighing*

The pack that destroyed ours no longer exists. We had just begun doing business with a pack that was venturing into telecommunication technologies. They were looking into partnering with us, with us providing the raw materials and getting into the manufacturing end and them developing the applications and marketing. Their territory bordered ours and their alpha wasn't open to doing business with murderers. *giving you a lopsided small smile.* He also wasn't open to having his pack, and his own mate and young son, live so close to a pack who would kill pups. He took them down. Hard. Made an example out of the alpha and beta. The females and young of the pack he allowed to become part of his own. Fighting males and the alpha's pack council didn't survive the initial onslaught but males over 16 who weren't involved in the fighting were given the opportunity to assimilate or go lone wolf. Most of the young ones assimilated into Blood Moon. I don't know what happened to the others.

Truely: Well, I'm glad they got theirs. No one should get away with slaughter like that. I know it happens but I don't have to like it and I can relish when assholes get theirs. I need you to do me a favor, if you will. We need a new thing of flour but it's in the cellar. Usually I have Dusti or Lu get it but they are gone. Would you mind getting it? I'll keep an eye on the goodies in the oven.

Celia: *raising my eyebrow* You have a cellar? Did you and Zav ward it? Reapers can get in anywhere Truely. Any open space.

Truely: It’s very small and ya Zav did. I just. I don’t down there is all.

Celia: *tilting my head quizzically* You don't go down there? *raising an eyebrow* When I get back, we're gonna talk about that. Anytime somebody gets the creepies about a place or person, there's a reason.

*Going ghost, I dematerialize down into the cellar. Reforming, I look around* Hmmm, just your run-of-the-mill basement, *murmuring to myself.* Well-finished and clean. Well organized too. No spirits or bad juju here.

*There was a large sealed container on a pallet near one of the shelves labeled "flour". Opening it, I hoist out a 50lb bag of Minnesota Girl Bakers Flour and put it on my shoulder, then demat back to the kitchen. That's the thing about being both wolfen and ghost. I'm stronger than humans my size and more efficient.*

Where do you want this?

Truely: *I laugh with surprise and thrill when you come back carrying that bag* Usually I get 15 minutes of complaints about how I’m wrecking backs by making them drag it up. Thanks though. The rolls are close to done, and the cookies are just about ready to come out too. I'm just about to put the haystacks and no bake cookies out. Wanna help?

Celia: *Sits the bag of flower on a metal prep table* Sure. Presentation of the food was an actual class. *laughs* But I might be out of practice at that.

Truely: Easy peasy. *I walk out to the front, pull the show trays out and begin placing the cookies in three long rows.* I do three rows and put the prettiest three at the front. *smiling as I put one full show tray in the display and start working on another.*

We'll put the haystacks to the left, our left, and no bakes to the right. Usually people start wandering in around 8:30 for coffee and whatever sweet thing is available. But the real crowds hit around 10am, like you mentioned. *I work on another tray as you grab and start yours*

Celia: *Working quickly, I imitate Truely's display with the haystack cookies, finishing one tray and then starting another before beginning...* I checked out your basement Tru. There's no bad juju there or ghosts. And if there had been I'd have known. And taken care of it. So is it just this cellar or all cellars that give you the willies?

Truely: Oh um *her question caught me off guard since no-one has ever asked me why. They just figure it is one of those things like people who hate anchovies on pizza...just a thing a person dislikes.*

Well, anything basement or cellar-like. I don't like those types of places, they *I sigh* scare me. Have since I was a very little girl. My parents even moved us to a new place that didn't have one when I was 8 because the one we had scared me too much. As I got older I could lock that fear away, you know I didn't let it bug me. But I still can't go down into them.

Celia: *Nods as I finish the last tray of cookies* When we're kids lots of things scare us. And being afraid of the dark is usually one of them. But as we get older we usually lose that. Not to say we aren't cautious about things. There's scary stuff out there in the dark. I should know. A lot of people would think I'm one of them. But when we don't lose that fear of something, there's usually a reason behind it. Stuffing down the things you're afraid of only gives them power Tru. If you ever want to face it, I'll be right there beside you.

Truely: Thank you. I, hmmm, well I don't remember exactly why. See, I was adopted when I was 3. I don't, naturally, remember a lot from that time but I do remember being locked in a very dark basement and being so scared.

*I look off into the distance* I remember crying to get out. Whispers. Cold. *I shiver and wrap my arms around myself. Shaking my head I grin* Anyway....ever since, just hated them.

Celia: *Slipping my arm around your shoulders for a quick squeeze* That would be scary for any kid. I totally get your fear. But did you know that little kids can sometimes see or hear us? Ghosts, I mean. It's because they haven't been convinced yet that we're not real. Those whispers could have been from someone like me, maybe just not strong enough to really make themselves heard, but trying to reach out to you.

Truely: Maybe, it's just that it doesn't feel umm nice. *The timer goes off just then*

Oh, we best get those so they don't burn. We can um talk after if you want. Maybe explain ghosts more.

<<<TBC>>>

#FamilyMatters #FemaleBonding #RRPG #BDBAU #Renegades #Reapers #Angels #Vampires #Ghosts #Wolven

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easyfoodnetwork · 4 years

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Bakers Against Racism Is Just the Beginning

Paola Velez, Willa Pelini, and Rob Rubba launched an international movement of anti-racist bake sales to empower communities and change their own industry

When Willa Pelini messaged Paola Velez about co-hosting a bake sale to benefit the Minnesota Freedom Fund, Velez took a day to think it through — and to do some baker’s math. Throughout April and May, Velez, a James Beard Award finalist in 2020 for her work at Washington, DC’s Kith/Kin (where she is currently furloughed), hosted a fundraising pop-up called Doña Dona featuring doughnuts inspired by her Dominican-American childhood. The pop-up raised a little over $1,000 for immigrant rights organization Ayuda, which Velez describes as both a lot of money and in the grand scheme of things, not nearly enough. If she and Pelini teamed up, that $1,000 could become $2,000. And what if she opened up the project to a wider array of people, and shared everything she knew about running a successful pop-up fundraiser?

Velez typed up a mission statement and several detailed documents about how to bake at scale and raise funds, and emailed them over to Pelini, who was most recently the pastry chef at the D.C. restaurant Emilie’s until she was laid off due to COVID-19. “We both speak the same language — pastry math,” Velez says. “So I said, ‘Willa, if we both participate and make 150 pieces of one dessert and price it out at $8, individually we’ll raise $1,200 dollars. If we ask everyone to participate virtually and decentralize it, we might be able to get 80 participants, and 1,200 times 80 is $96,000.’” The scale of the project seemed daunting, but the international movement for black lives in the wake of George Floyd’s death at the hands of a white police officer fueled a sense of urgency and ambition. “If we donate a little bit of money, we can make a little bit of change; with others, we can donate a lot of money that can make a lot of change.” They called their fundraiser Bakers Against Racism.

Eighty participants in Bakers Against Racism seemed like a huge reach to Velez and Pelini at the time. But the little bake sale bootstrapped by three DC chefs (a third collaborator, Rob Rubba, designed the graphics) has blown way, way past that to become a worldwide phenomenon. Participants in Bakers Against Racism, which opened its pre-sales on Monday (many bakers sold out far ahead of the Friday pick-ups), hail from 200 cities around the U.S.; hubs have formed in London, Berlin, and Paris, and Velez says the movement has reached five continents. Pastry chefs, professional bakers, and home cooks across the country are selling cookies and challah to support causes both national and essential to their communities. That’s by design — the whole process has been decentralized, with a broad list of suggested charities to support, so every baker has the chance to impact their own local causes.

According to foodtimeline.org, the phrase “bake sale” became popular in the early 20th century as a way to describe the age-old human practice of donating time, materials, and labor to raise money via baked goods. Since then, it’s become a uniquely American tradition, tied to women’s participation in charitable causes. Bake sales have played roles in political movements before — most notably in the case of George Gilmore’s Club from Nowhere, which sold peach pies, pound cakes, and hot meals to support the Montgomery Bus Boycott, and which Velez cites as an inspiration for her own baking activism. But since Donald Trump’s election spurred politically liberal women, especially white women, to become more involved in activism, the bake sale has become an increasingly large-scale and familiar tool, especially in the restaurant community. In New York, pastry chef Natasha Pickowicz is renowned for her Planned Parenthood bake sales, which began in 2016.

In Los Angeles, Gather for Good, an all-volunteer organization run by Sherry Mandell and Stephanie Chen and co-founded with Zoe Nathan of the Rustic Canyon group, launched in February 2017, and their bake sales have since raised nearly $100,000 for causes as varied as mental health advocacy to providing lawyers for families separated at the border. At the same time that Pelini and Velez brainstormed their bake sale, Mandell, who runs the Tehachapi Heritage Grain Project, and Chen, who owns Sugarbear Bakes, decided, as Mandell put it, to “get the band back together” to support the movement for black lives (they have since folded under the Bakers Against Racism banner).

“We were already talking about doing this with COVID,” Mandell says. “Other events we’ve done have been very much about coming together. We had to think of a way we could come together but still be apart.” Their solution was to launch a Pies for Justice initiative with many of the city’s best-loved restaurants and chefs, offering pre-sales for pies this Friday, June 19, on their website, with pick-ups organized for the next day. Proceeds from the effort will be split between Black Lives Matter Los Angeles and Gathering for Justice, an (unaffiliated) organization fighting against racial injustice in the prison system.

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We love Chef Cattleya Asapahu for her beautiful pie that SAYS IT ALL!!! We are here because #blacklivesmatter and we demand justice! Head to the link in profile to pre-game your pies on sale tomorrow including this delicious Coconut Cream Pie from @providencela. #piesforjustice

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Roxana Jullapat, the baker and co-owner of the Los Angeles cafe Friends & Family, was unable to coordinate with the larger bake sales happening this week, and instead held her own bake sale Monday, splitting the proceeds between Black Lives Matter LA and a black-run hyper-local effort to feed the homeless, Brown Bag Lady. Bake sales were always meaningful to Jullapat, but now that meaning has completely changed. “Pre-COVID, [the bake sale] is a very studied, measurable tool to raise money and bring awareness. Post-COVID, it’s many other things — it’s a healing device, it’s a way to make a statement about where you stand.” Jullapat believes online donations are important, but picking up a baked good engages people in a different way — and offers a concrete action people struggling to save their businesses can take in the face of uncertainty. “There’s an underlying feeling of, The house is burning, might as well share while we still have it. In three months, we could all be going under, so might as well do it now.”

The bakers taking part in Bakers Against Racism around the world describe a similar sense of purpose, often despite the challenges they’ve been weathering during the pandemic. In Paris, Janae Lynch, an African-American expat and a pastry chef at the doughnut shop Boneshaker, says joining the bake sale was important to her both to support the cause in the U.S., and address France’s persistent racism and police brutality. “We thought that since food brings joy, we could support fighting for black lives, fighting against police brutality and systemic and institutionalized racism. It’s a global issue.”

In Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, Melanie Lino, who co-owns Lit Coffee Roastery and sells her baked goods under her company Made by Lino, is baking to support two organizations in the Lehigh Valley fighting systemic injustice. She first got involved with the bake sale because she’d formed an online friendship with Velez, who like Lino is Dominican-American. All of Lino’s baked goods have already sold out, and she raised over $2,400. “Everything’s been so heavy for awhile right now, and it was such an incredible feeling [to see] this many people show up in a short period of time, and this many people decide to volunteer their time to help,” she says. “We raised all this money, 100 percent of which can be used to better the lives of other people.”

Velez describes a similar sense of solidarity and uplift at the heart of the Bakers Against Racism, which she calls a “pure moment.” But she also does not want the restaurant industry to engage in a bake sale against racism and then do nothing to address the rampant racial discrimination in professional kitchens. On Instagram, she noted that some restaurants joining the bake sale have not addressed the racism in their own workplaces, even when employees have asked them to. “Don’t use another black life to make yourself look good,” she writes. To me, she added, “Now that you’re saying you’re open to fighting against racism, if you’ve been called out and told you’re racist in your establishment, what are you going to do to change the systems you’ve heavily relied on for profit?”

In the #bakersagainstracism Instagram hashtag, a surreal, very 2020 phenomenon emerged: white-run accounts previously dedicated to burnished sourdough or cookies with animal faces are now decorating their wares with revolutionary Black Power fists. Velez notes that the Google Drive, which goes out to every participant, includes a document of podcasts and videos for bakers to listen to while they work in order to educate themselves on, say, turning performative wokeness into genuine action. The bake sale isn’t just about raising funds, or awareness, outwardly; participants can take the time to deepen their own commitment to fighting for black lives, too.

As for Velez, she opted to bake a passionfruit strawberry buckle with a salty streusel, “something simple, not extravagant, though it’s gonna be tasty.” It sold out immediately. Right now, she is trying to keep up with her grassroots mega-success and watching hubs form organically, sometimes in places which would have once been unthinkable, like Richmond, Virginia, the former capital of the Confederacy. She hopes Bakers Against Racism is only the beginning of a larger cultural transformation. “It’s given people the confidence to say: You’re going to buy this cake and stop being racist. That’s it.”

Meghan McCarron is Eater’s special correspondent

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2UU0vif https://ift.tt/2YaJsL4

Paola Velez, Willa Pelini, and Rob Rubba launched an international movement of anti-racist bake sales to empower communities and change their own industry

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A post shared by &gatherforgood (@andgatherforgood) on Jun 18, 2020 at 10:23am PDT

Meghan McCarron is Eater’s special correspondent

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#Blogger #cooking #Eater #food #recipes

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easyfoodnetwork · 4 years

Quote

Paola Velez, Willa Pelini, and Rob Rubba launched an international movement of anti-racist bake sales to empower communities and change their own industry When Willa Pelini messaged Paola Velez about co-hosting a bake sale to benefit the Minnesota Freedom Fund, Velez took a day to think it through — and to do some baker’s math. Throughout April and May, Velez, a James Beard Award finalist in 2020 for her work at Washington, DC’s Kith/Kin (where she is currently furloughed), hosted a fundraising pop-up called Doña Dona featuring doughnuts inspired by her Dominican-American childhood. The pop-up raised a little over $1,000 for immigrant rights organization Ayuda, which Velez describes as both a lot of money and in the grand scheme of things, not nearly enough. If she and Pelini teamed up, that $1,000 could become $2,000. And what if she opened up the project to a wider array of people, and shared everything she knew about running a successful pop-up fundraiser? Velez typed up a mission statement and several detailed documents about how to bake at scale and raise funds, and emailed them over to Pelini, who was most recently the pastry chef at the D.C. restaurant Emilie’s until she was laid off due to COVID-19. “We both speak the same language — pastry math,” Velez says. “So I said, ‘Willa, if we both participate and make 150 pieces of one dessert and price it out at $8, individually we’ll raise $1,200 dollars. If we ask everyone to participate virtually and decentralize it, we might be able to get 80 participants, and 1,200 times 80 is $96,000.’” The scale of the project seemed daunting, but the international movement for black lives in the wake of George Floyd’s death at the hands of a white police officer fueled a sense of urgency and ambition. “If we donate a little bit of money, we can make a little bit of change; with others, we can donate a lot of money that can make a lot of change.” They called their fundraiser Bakers Against Racism. Eighty participants in Bakers Against Racism seemed like a huge reach to Velez and Pelini at the time. But the little bake sale bootstrapped by three DC chefs (a third collaborator, Rob Rubba, designed the graphics) has blown way, way past that to become a worldwide phenomenon. Participants in Bakers Against Racism, which opened its pre-sales on Monday (many bakers sold out far ahead of the Friday pick-ups), hail from 200 cities around the U.S.; hubs have formed in London, Berlin, and Paris, and Velez says the movement has reached five continents. Pastry chefs, professional bakers, and home cooks across the country are selling cookies and challah to support causes both national and essential to their communities. That’s by design — the whole process has been decentralized, with a broad list of suggested charities to support, so every baker has the chance to impact their own local causes. According to foodtimeline.org, the phrase “bake sale” became popular in the early 20th century as a way to describe the age-old human practice of donating time, materials, and labor to raise money via baked goods. Since then, it’s become a uniquely American tradition, tied to women’s participation in charitable causes. Bake sales have played roles in political movements before — most notably in the case of George Gilmore’s Club from Nowhere, which sold peach pies, pound cakes, and hot meals to support the Montgomery Bus Boycott, and which Velez cites as an inspiration for her own baking activism. But since Donald Trump’s election spurred politically liberal women, especially white women, to become more involved in activism, the bake sale has become an increasingly large-scale and familiar tool, especially in the restaurant community. In New York, pastry chef Natasha Pickowicz is renowned for her Planned Parenthood bake sales, which began in 2016. In Los Angeles, Gather for Good, an all-volunteer organization run by Sherry Mandell and Stephanie Chen and co-founded with Zoe Nathan of the Rustic Canyon group, launched in February 2017, and their bake sales have since raised nearly $100,000 for causes as varied as mental health advocacy to providing lawyers for families separated at the border. At the same time that Pelini and Velez brainstormed their bake sale, Mandell, who runs the Tehachapi Heritage Grain Project, and Chen, who owns Sugarbear Bakes, decided, as Mandell put it, to “get the band back together” to support the movement for black lives (they have since folded under the Bakers Against Racism banner). “We were already talking about doing this with COVID,” Mandell says. “Other events we’ve done have been very much about coming together. We had to think of a way we could come together but still be apart.” Their solution was to launch a Pies for Justice initiative with many of the city’s best-loved restaurants and chefs, offering pre-sales for pies this Friday, June 19, on their website, with pick-ups organized for the next day. Proceeds from the effort will be split between Black Lives Matter Los Angeles and Gathering for Justice, an (unaffiliated) organization fighting against racial injustice in the prison system. View this post on Instagram We love Chef Cattleya Asapahu for her beautiful pie that SAYS IT ALL!!! We are here because #blacklivesmatter and we demand justice! Head to the link in profile to pre-game your pies on sale tomorrow including this delicious Coconut Cream Pie from @providencela. #piesforjustice A post shared by &gatherforgood (@andgatherforgood) on Jun 18, 2020 at 10:23am PDT Roxana Jullapat, the baker and co-owner of the Los Angeles cafe Friends & Family, was unable to coordinate with the larger bake sales happening this week, and instead held her own bake sale Monday, splitting the proceeds between Black Lives Matter LA and a black-run hyper-local effort to feed the homeless, Brown Bag Lady. Bake sales were always meaningful to Jullapat, but now that meaning has completely changed. “Pre-COVID, [the bake sale] is a very studied, measurable tool to raise money and bring awareness. Post-COVID, it’s many other things — it’s a healing device, it’s a way to make a statement about where you stand.” Jullapat believes online donations are important, but picking up a baked good engages people in a different way — and offers a concrete action people struggling to save their businesses can take in the face of uncertainty. “There’s an underlying feeling of, The house is burning, might as well share while we still have it. In three months, we could all be going under, so might as well do it now.” The bakers taking part in Bakers Against Racism around the world describe a similar sense of purpose, often despite the challenges they’ve been weathering during the pandemic. In Paris, Janae Lynch, an African-American expat and a pastry chef at the doughnut shop Boneshaker, says joining the bake sale was important to her both to support the cause in the U.S., and address France’s persistent racism and police brutality. “We thought that since food brings joy, we could support fighting for black lives, fighting against police brutality and systemic and institutionalized racism. It’s a global issue.” In Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, Melanie Lino, who co-owns Lit Coffee Roastery and sells her baked goods under her company Made by Lino, is baking to support two organizations in the Lehigh Valley fighting systemic injustice. She first got involved with the bake sale because she’d formed an online friendship with Velez, who like Lino is Dominican-American. All of Lino’s baked goods have already sold out, and she raised over $2,400. “Everything’s been so heavy for awhile right now, and it was such an incredible feeling [to see] this many people show up in a short period of time, and this many people decide to volunteer their time to help,” she says. “We raised all this money, 100 percent of which can be used to better the lives of other people.” Velez describes a similar sense of solidarity and uplift at the heart of the Bakers Against Racism, which she calls a “pure moment.” But she also does not want the restaurant industry to engage in a bake sale against racism and then do nothing to address the rampant racial discrimination in professional kitchens. On Instagram, she noted that some restaurants joining the bake sale have not addressed the racism in their own workplaces, even when employees have asked them to. “Don’t use another black life to make yourself look good,” she writes. To me, she added, “Now that you’re saying you’re open to fighting against racism, if you’ve been called out and told you’re racist in your establishment, what are you going to do to change the systems you’ve heavily relied on for profit?” In the #bakersagainstracism Instagram hashtag, a surreal, very 2020 phenomenon emerged: white-run accounts previously dedicated to burnished sourdough or cookies with animal faces are now decorating their wares with revolutionary Black Power fists. Velez notes that the Google Drive, which goes out to every participant, includes a document of podcasts and videos for bakers to listen to while they work in order to educate themselves on, say, turning performative wokeness into genuine action. The bake sale isn’t just about raising funds, or awareness, outwardly; participants can take the time to deepen their own commitment to fighting for black lives, too. As for Velez, she opted to bake a passionfruit strawberry buckle with a salty streusel, “something simple, not extravagant, though it’s gonna be tasty.” It sold out immediately. Right now, she is trying to keep up with her grassroots mega-success and watching hubs form organically, sometimes in places which would have once been unthinkable, like Richmond, Virginia, the former capital of the Confederacy. She hopes Bakers Against Racism is only the beginning of a larger cultural transformation. “It’s given people the confidence to say: You’re going to buy this cake and stop being racist. That’s it.” Meghan McCarron is Eater’s special correspondent from Eater - All https://ift.tt/2UU0vif

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