All That's Fit to Print
Title: All That's Fit to Print
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Sakurai Sho --> Matsumoto Jun; Anderson Cooper
Summary: “Do you think the devil horns on President McKinley are a bit much?” Jun asked, looking a tad nervous.
Notes/Warnings: An End of 2009 Request from chelshock who wanted Jun fanboying over Anderson Cooper and Sho's resulting bitchfit. Haha, this is probably NOT what she was expecting. Not as much fanboying as there is some Sho-jealousy!
He should have known that something was afoot when he saw the furious scribbles Matsumoto was making.
Sho’s article was a mere interview with Mr. J.H. Cartwright of Davidson Furriers. There was no possible way that Matsumoto was taking to his cartooning with such fervor if he was merely drawing Mr. Cartwright for the article’s inset picture. Sho tried to ignore the way the cartoonist let his tongue poke out the side of his mouth as he sketched, brow furrowed.
Even from across the room, Sho could see the man was determined, and he scratched at an itch where his suspenders cut into his shoulder, leaving fresh ink smudges on his starched shirt before turning his attentions back to his sketching. Sho knew Matsumoto was less than inclined to dirty his linens, so he had to be on another plane of artistic existence.
And then, Sakurai’s worst fears were realized as that muckraking fiend came by, blue eyes glimmering under the gas lights.
“I say, Matsumoto, you’ve definitely captured something here,” Cooper said, patting Jun on his clean shoulder. “Mr. Pulitzer will put us front page for sure!”
Sho frowned at the paper in his typewriter - nearly five hundred words he’d painstakingly decided upon - a coup of an interview to be sure. With all the madness over gold in the Yukon, a frank and honest discussion with a hardworking businessman in the fur trade ought to be important news. But Mr. Pulitzer was singling out Sho’s work less and less lately.
Instead men like Cooper, men with little journalistic integrity and an imagination that would have made P.T. Barnum blush, made front page. Horrible working conditions here, tenement fire there. Cooper sensationalized every little bit he wrote, and Pulitzer published it without so much as a cursory fact check. Sho worked tirelessly to tell real news, to report reality.
But reality didn’t sell newspapers, Cooper always teased him. Reality kept Mr. Hearst ahead of Mr. Pulitzer, and if Mr. Pulitzer didn’t do something about it, then the World was going to be left in the dust.
“Do you think the devil horns on President McKinley are a bit much?” Jun asked, looking a tad nervous.
“No, my friend, not on your life.”
Jun’s smile was like a sunbeam, and Sho wanted to rip the interview with Mr. J.H. Cartwright into a thousand little pieces and start over. If he could best Cooper at his own silly fiction game, perhaps Jun would return and illustrate for him? Sure, Satoshi was a fine artist, but Sho wanted Jun to draw for him.
Sho realized that perhaps his appreciation for Jun didn’t so much stem from his artistic talents as much as his other assets. They’d once shared many a cigar at that little place on Madison Ave. Now Jun wouldn’t give him a second glance. It was infuriating to be in the newsroom - to see Cooper’s smirk as he directed Jun to “make that slumlord greasier” or to “make the steamship look far more menacing.”
Anderson Cooper had stolen his illustrator away, and come hell or high water, Sho Sakurai would challenge him at his own enterprise.
--
Mr. Pulitzer had been rather confused when Sho had entered his office demanding to write an undercover expose piece on the Havering and Sons meat packing plant.
“Isn’t that more of Cooper’s style?” the man had challenged him. “Shouldn’t you be helping Ninomiya with the report on the Astors’ charity polo match?”
“No!” he’d declared, bolder than he’d ever dared. “I will root out their evil!”
“Evil?” Pulitzer had nearly chortled. “I say, boy, you are like a coiled cobra today. Permission granted.”
--
He’d spent nearly two months smelling of guts and innards and pig, but the conditions at Havering and Sons were clearly in violation of common decency.
He was nearly shaking in his shoes as he watched Jun’s skilled hands sketching - first, the finger severed by the machine - then the blood spurting fantastically.
“And make sure the offending digit falls in with those ribs en route to market,” Sho directed, watching over Matsumoto’s shoulder. “And when you draw Mr. Havering, if you can have wads of cash overflowing from his trouser pockets...”
Jun nodded, eagerly sketching. “I know exactly what you mean.”
It had been ages since he’d been in the newsroom - the inky smell of typewriter ribbon, the clattering of the keys, and the jet black, pomade-laden hair of his favorite illustrator - it was good to be back.
“Matsumoto?” Sho inquired, trying to smell himself without alerting Jun. Did he still smell like the slaughterhouse? “Where’s Cooper?”
“You didn’t hear?” Jun answered, starting on the blubbery jowls of Mr. Havering, “Mr. Hearst snatched him up. He outbid Mr. Pulitzer. He’s been writing for the Journal for a few weeks now.”
Sho blinked. He was smelling pig in his sleep, and Cooper had simply left the paper? He could have been smoking and fraternizing with Matsumoto all this time?
Oh well.
“Make his whiskers curl a bit at the ends,” he requested, not-so-accidentally brushing his fingers against Jun’s hand. “Just like that.”
It was a tricky business. He’d given up all the journalistic traits he’d treasured for so long, engaged in behavior he felt was beneath him, but he’d gotten his cartoonist back, and he’d be damned before he gave him up so easily this time.
"Let's outsell him then," Sho said merrily. "Let's outsell that Cooper once and for all."
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Sakurai Sho --> Matsumoto Jun; Anderson Cooper
Summary: “Do you think the devil horns on President McKinley are a bit much?” Jun asked, looking a tad nervous.
Notes/Warnings: An End of 2009 Request from chelshock who wanted Jun fanboying over Anderson Cooper and Sho's resulting bitchfit. Haha, this is probably NOT what she was expecting. Not as much fanboying as there is some Sho-jealousy!
He should have known that something was afoot when he saw the furious scribbles Matsumoto was making.
Sho’s article was a mere interview with Mr. J.H. Cartwright of Davidson Furriers. There was no possible way that Matsumoto was taking to his cartooning with such fervor if he was merely drawing Mr. Cartwright for the article’s inset picture. Sho tried to ignore the way the cartoonist let his tongue poke out the side of his mouth as he sketched, brow furrowed.
Even from across the room, Sho could see the man was determined, and he scratched at an itch where his suspenders cut into his shoulder, leaving fresh ink smudges on his starched shirt before turning his attentions back to his sketching. Sho knew Matsumoto was less than inclined to dirty his linens, so he had to be on another plane of artistic existence.
And then, Sakurai’s worst fears were realized as that muckraking fiend came by, blue eyes glimmering under the gas lights.
“I say, Matsumoto, you’ve definitely captured something here,” Cooper said, patting Jun on his clean shoulder. “Mr. Pulitzer will put us front page for sure!”
Sho frowned at the paper in his typewriter - nearly five hundred words he’d painstakingly decided upon - a coup of an interview to be sure. With all the madness over gold in the Yukon, a frank and honest discussion with a hardworking businessman in the fur trade ought to be important news. But Mr. Pulitzer was singling out Sho’s work less and less lately.
Instead men like Cooper, men with little journalistic integrity and an imagination that would have made P.T. Barnum blush, made front page. Horrible working conditions here, tenement fire there. Cooper sensationalized every little bit he wrote, and Pulitzer published it without so much as a cursory fact check. Sho worked tirelessly to tell real news, to report reality.
But reality didn’t sell newspapers, Cooper always teased him. Reality kept Mr. Hearst ahead of Mr. Pulitzer, and if Mr. Pulitzer didn’t do something about it, then the World was going to be left in the dust.
“Do you think the devil horns on President McKinley are a bit much?” Jun asked, looking a tad nervous.
“No, my friend, not on your life.”
Jun’s smile was like a sunbeam, and Sho wanted to rip the interview with Mr. J.H. Cartwright into a thousand little pieces and start over. If he could best Cooper at his own silly fiction game, perhaps Jun would return and illustrate for him? Sure, Satoshi was a fine artist, but Sho wanted Jun to draw for him.
Sho realized that perhaps his appreciation for Jun didn’t so much stem from his artistic talents as much as his other assets. They’d once shared many a cigar at that little place on Madison Ave. Now Jun wouldn’t give him a second glance. It was infuriating to be in the newsroom - to see Cooper’s smirk as he directed Jun to “make that slumlord greasier” or to “make the steamship look far more menacing.”
Anderson Cooper had stolen his illustrator away, and come hell or high water, Sho Sakurai would challenge him at his own enterprise.
--
Mr. Pulitzer had been rather confused when Sho had entered his office demanding to write an undercover expose piece on the Havering and Sons meat packing plant.
“Isn’t that more of Cooper’s style?” the man had challenged him. “Shouldn’t you be helping Ninomiya with the report on the Astors’ charity polo match?”
“No!” he’d declared, bolder than he’d ever dared. “I will root out their evil!”
“Evil?” Pulitzer had nearly chortled. “I say, boy, you are like a coiled cobra today. Permission granted.”
--
He’d spent nearly two months smelling of guts and innards and pig, but the conditions at Havering and Sons were clearly in violation of common decency.
He was nearly shaking in his shoes as he watched Jun’s skilled hands sketching - first, the finger severed by the machine - then the blood spurting fantastically.
“And make sure the offending digit falls in with those ribs en route to market,” Sho directed, watching over Matsumoto’s shoulder. “And when you draw Mr. Havering, if you can have wads of cash overflowing from his trouser pockets...”
Jun nodded, eagerly sketching. “I know exactly what you mean.”
It had been ages since he’d been in the newsroom - the inky smell of typewriter ribbon, the clattering of the keys, and the jet black, pomade-laden hair of his favorite illustrator - it was good to be back.
“Matsumoto?” Sho inquired, trying to smell himself without alerting Jun. Did he still smell like the slaughterhouse? “Where’s Cooper?”
“You didn’t hear?” Jun answered, starting on the blubbery jowls of Mr. Havering, “Mr. Hearst snatched him up. He outbid Mr. Pulitzer. He’s been writing for the Journal for a few weeks now.”
Sho blinked. He was smelling pig in his sleep, and Cooper had simply left the paper? He could have been smoking and fraternizing with Matsumoto all this time?
Oh well.
“Make his whiskers curl a bit at the ends,” he requested, not-so-accidentally brushing his fingers against Jun’s hand. “Just like that.”
It was a tricky business. He’d given up all the journalistic traits he’d treasured for so long, engaged in behavior he felt was beneath him, but he’d gotten his cartoonist back, and he’d be damned before he gave him up so easily this time.
"Let's outsell him then," Sho said merrily. "Let's outsell that Cooper once and for all."