#100% agree with this i’d petition for it to be come true

[darylandbethfanforever9]

Aemond will feel betrayed and kill her in an act of betrayal.

Ok but I NEED to see Aemond find out that Madam Sylvi, who is/was his one safe harbor where he could let his mask fall, is one of the people spreading the lies rumors about him. I need to see him crack and fracture and realize he truly can’t trust anyone. I need to see him kill her and watch the regret fade from his face as he finally becomes nothing more than a monster wearing the skin of a man.

[thisiskatsblog]

Hi Kat, I'm feeling sad and sort of mad here so I might rant, I'd like to know what you think I don't know if you're gonna post it or answer it to avoid controversy and negativity in your blog but I appreciate you got to read it bc I needed to vent, tysm in advance...

I see so many people hating on Harry because he said "clothes are fun" without "making any social statement about it and that he doesn't recognize his privilege of wearing what he wants cause he's rich and famous" and can I just say that it's because of that same privilege he's so influential and has helped so many queer fans to be who they want to be, he's using his privilege for good and also, I hate when people try to force activism out of everyone...

I understand being critical but activism should be genuine and intentional. It just seems to me that they're people from the q community who had an agenda against him before this interview got released, sometimes it doesn't even seen this is about social justice. I've seen the most cruel and hateful comments wishing for him to be miserable and unsuccessful (that's not happening anytime sooner, honey, go off)...

And they don't really know him, they don't know he does more than waving flags and putting stickers on his guitar, he has donated to non-profits, spent money on queer artists, he protested and signed petitions for BLM, he has helped fans to come out, he does have talked on social issues, they're just looking for a reason to be mad tbh...

He might not get too deeply political because he has stated that politics divide people and that is 100% true. He has INDEED recognized he is privileged on a RS interview and that he just wants to show people he sees them and he's here for them. Everybody does activism in different ways, and Harry's certainly isn't performative, he's not obnoxious about it but he's not tone deaf either, he's self-aware.Honestly, I don't understand what this people want?...

If they see this cis boy speaking on gender issues and gender expression on a Vogue interview and talking about trans/nb/gnc people who are opressed then they may fill Twitter with comments like "he doesn't do anything for us, why is he talking about it? he's not our icon" but if he doesn't do it then he's pandering? Do they want an ally who leads a movement and speaks on issues or an ally who does acts of service for the movement and doesn't speak for it? I don't understand, idk if I will..

Finally, no one should be a certain sexuality to be allowed to break gender roles, yes, straight people do have privilege even when they dress androgynous but they shouldn't be cancelled for that...

Now, entering hypothetical (basically confirmed) field, can we talk about how problematic is accusing a closeted person of pandering? If someone have ever told artists like Bowie or Mercury to "stop profiting of queer people" while they weren't out in the public eye, then no one would have paved the way for other men to express themselves, break toxic masculinity and help other gender non-conforming kids. Kids like Janelle Monaé, Billy Porter, Lil Nas, P!nk, Sam Smith and yes, Harry Styles.

(that was the end of my rant btw, it was like 8 asks, I think, hope nothing got lost, sorry for the length but this people literally want Harry to fail because of freaking wearing a skirt and not getting too political about it and I was certainly not having it)

----------------------- Hi anon,

They all arrived! 

I’m glad it helps you just to be able to vent, without expecting to be published, so anyone who needs a vent: do feel free to use the service of my inbox 😊

I will publish because I think you are making a few interesting points.

It’s true that Harry can do the things he does because he is privileged – and I completely agree with you that it’s a good thing he is using that privilege to the fullest and thereby changes things for the better for other queer people.

On the other hand, I do understand the frustration of queer people who are less privileged when they wish he would recognize that privilege. It isn’t true that in this day and age anyone can dress the way Harry does on the cover of Vogue, and it could make his “statement”, which in itself is positive for queer people, all the more powerful if he recognized it and expressed his wish for that to change. To me, it’s a question of gradation. Wearing a ruffled dress is really good and changes lives; saying that you wish everyone had the freedom to wear that dress in the way you now have that freedom is even better and raises awareness of intersectionality (when you are LGBTQ and poor, being LGBTQ is more difficult than when you are LGBTQ and rich).

I don’t think Harry is the kind of person you’d need to force activism out of, I do see him as someone who has been activist as well as political on many occasions. Maybe not as political and activist as I’d like him to be, maybe not in the way I would be in his position, but definitely committed to the same causes that I find important, and not afraid of using the position he has to influence when he feels comfortable to do so. I wish he’d been more vocal on a great number of occasions, but I agree with you in that you cannot look at your idols in music and simply expect them to be fervent and perfect political activists. Art can be activist, but it doesn’t have to be, you cannot expect it to be.

Furthermore, I think Harry definitely has some privilege that he’s shown to be unaware of, and I’ve also seen him take things in, learn, change his position (see the RS interview you also mention), and become more vocal politically. In other words: Harry is human.

I have not seen the criticism you are talking about, and it seems there have been various different ones, so I won’t be going into them, some seem more valid, others are not. In any case I would be very hesitant to put it all aside as “queer people who had an agenda against him” or “they’re just looking for a reason to get mad”. That thinking may put you at ease, and stay on your side of things, but it won’t help the conversation. I think it’s important when you’re on two sides of an argument, to try and understand where the unmet need is on the “other” side.

Since I haven’t seen the original arguments, I am not completely clear on this – but it seems that the common thread in your understanding of the criticism he receives is that Harry’s ambiguous identity (while having amply suggested he may be not cis/straight, he hasn’t been straightforward about it) makes it possible for people to criticize him both ways.

I agree with you that you do not need to be queer to be allowed to break gender norms, and that closeted people should not be criticized for breaking gender norms and paving the way, to come out themselves, and for others. But I do see where the frustration on the other side comes from – I don’t think it’s necessarily evil willed towards Harry. What I see, a strong wish and urgent need to have out and proud role models who do these things; and – guessing that a lot of the people criticizing him suspect he is indeed closeted – an enormous frustration that closeting still happens, and about the mixed messages Harry, as a role model, may implicitly gives to queer kids in this way. It’s okay to dress outrageously and challenge norms but it’s not okay to be explicit about your identity and orientation, do keep that vague. I personally feel extremely frustrated about that, even if I also believe this is outside Harry’s will.

“We don’t talk enough, we should open up, before it’s all too much…”

Anyway, long story short anon: I get you. And I think I get the other side too. In the end we all choose whether we want to see the glass as half full or half empty. And I’m siding with you that it’s half full, and with the critics that I wish it were completely full, but then again with you that you cannot really fault Harry for that not (yet) being the case... But it’s okay for it to be said: I wish the glass were full.

[frickfrancegetmoney]

sunflower feelings

tw: weight loss, character death

Two years had passed by in the blink of an eye. Alfred remembered almost every moment, every little thing about his time with Arthur. He didn't think he'd ever forget, not for the rest of his life, however long that may be.

He savoured everything, every little thing that Arthur had brought into his life. He remembered first laying eyes on Arthur. He had decided to take a stroll after first being admitted into hospital, and the hospital had a beautiful garden filled with trees, flowers and plants of all different kinds. He remembered spotting the other blond sitting on a wooden bench, his nose buried in a book. Alfred didn't think he had ever seen such beauty, and he hadn't even seen the patient's full face. But, by Gosh, when he did, he swore his breath had been taken away. The slim faced individual was simply sensational.

And his thoughts hadn't changed. No matter how much Arthur paled, to the point where Alfred swore he was going to suck his blood or something, or how skinny Arthur got, Alfred always found the Brit to be prettier than a picture.

However, the more Arthur worsened, the more Alfred worried.

"Artie, come on. You have to eat this, you're supposed to be taking in 3,700 calories. You've only had 2,600." Alfred frowned.

"How many times have I told you to not call me that? And, that's 100 more calories than I should have. Men are only supposed to intake 2,500." Arthur retorted, staring out of the window, seeming fixated on the garden outside, "Can we go outside soon?"

"You're losing weight, Arthur, and fast. The doctor says that you need 3,700 to gain."

"I don't want to gain, Alfred," Arthur whipped his head around to face his dusty blond boyfriend, "I'm perfectly happy the way I am."

"But, you're not perfectly healthy. And I need you to be both." Alfred's hand reached out for the other's, only for it to be slapped away. The frown he wore earlier returned to his face, as he withdrew his hand.

"I'm fine, Alfie." The other turned his head away again, and Alfred really wanted to believe him, really and truly.

He supposed not all of his moments with Arthur were happy. They fought a lot of the time, but Alfred was used to turning up to Arthur's room to deliver him flowers and apologising with a handmade card. Sometimes, he thought that Arthur started arguments just so he could receive a gift, but that idea was dismissed after that one time Arthur didn't speak to him for three days even when Alfred had delivered him a gift each day.

But, Alfred knew that the good times of their relationship outweighed the bad. Every time he thought of Arthur, the hospital disco popped into his mind. It was a stupid thing really, having a disco in a hospital, but the five minutes that Alfred showed up for seemed to be awesome for the patients, especially the kids.

Sadly, Arthur couldn't be with him, as that was when his condition was worsening, and being on his feet for more than ten minutes was painful and Alfred found him wheezing and clutching at his chest. But, that wouldn't stop Alfred from bringing the disco to his love.

He tapped three times on Arthur's door, before receiving a faint "Come in." He took the invite, the door creaking open at his entrance. He saw Arthur's face light up, which brought fireworks to his chest as a grin appeared on his face. He sauntered over to Arthur's bedside, taking a seat. Alfred handed the other a bouquet, which small hands accepted with glee. He brought them to his nose, inhaling the scent of the roses and lilies.

"Thank you, Alfie. This means a lot to me." Arthur croaked out, handing the bouquet back to the American, "Put them in the vase for me." And he did.

Arthur asked how the disco was, and Alfred shrugged, "It's pretty boring. Without you there, that is." He chuckled, a grin spreading across his face. Arthur shook his head, chuckling with the other.

"Ah, right. Well, I thought that if you couldn't go to the disco, I'd bring it to you," The grin transformed into a sheepish smile, "So, I've got music on my phone, and uh..." Alfred cleared his throat, "Can I have this dance?" He asked, standing up and holding out his hand for the other to take.

Arthur's eyes widened, "I'm afraid I have to decline, I can't dance for the life of me." He chuckled, his face flushing at the request.

"Never said I could either," Alfred laughed, "But I want you to dance with me. Won't be longer than three minutes, so you'll be okay."

"Gods, Alfred Jones, you are the biggest idiot I've ever known." Arthur threw the covers back, holding his hands out for Alfred to take, and he did. He helped Arthur to his feet, only for the other to dive into a coughing fit.

Alfred frowned, "Are you okay? I'm sorry, I didn't think about it getting worse." He rubbed the other's back, not wanting to smack it in fear of hurting the other.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Arthur sputtered out, before regaining his composure, "Let's dance, love." He smiled, draping his arms over Alfred's shoulders.

A song began to play from Alfred's phone, 'Sunflower Feelings' by Kuzu Mellow. It was 'their song', as Alfred had proclaimed one day that it was made for them, about them and their relationship. And it would be right to say that Arthur agreed, smiling as he heard the familiar tune. Alfred's hands found Arthur's waist.

They didn't so much dance, but slowly spun in circles while staring deeply into each other's eyes. As soon as they got into a rhythm, it felt that the two of them were the only beings in existence, holding each other dearly. The song only lasted for around a minute, but it felt as long as their relationship had gone on for. As the music slowly faded out, there was no sounds anymore, but they continued their dance, and it felt like they were walking on the stars.

And Alfred had begun to wonder, what would their life be like if they weren't dying? He knew he would love to spoil Arthur. He'd take him on so many dates, to the carnival, to fancy restaurants, to libraries. He knew Arthur would love a museum date. And out of all of the art there, he knew his Artie would be he most endearing piece there.

"What are you staring at, git?" Arthur broke him out of his imagination. Alfred just smiled.

"I love you." And he pressed their lips together.

That felt like months ago, but it had only been two weeks. And now, Arthur lay dying. Alfred knew that he wasn't going to make it through the night, so he sat by his bedside for the whole day, speaking to him, and clutching his hand like he was going to fly away. And Alfred wouldn't be surprised, not if Arthur really had grown wings and flew, because the petite blond was the brightest angel he'd ever seen.

"I swore I wouldn't cry." Alfred sniffled, remembering the promise he had made to Arthur a few days prior.

"So don't." Arthur replied, his voice hoarse, his head resting back against the pillow as he had no energy left to pick it up.

"You know I can't help it, Artie."

"Arthur, not Artie. I've told you millions of times. Can you grant me my dying wish?" Arthur chuckled, but his face fell as he saw Alfred's pained expression. "Alfie, don't look so sad. I want this, I've wanted it for years."

"More than you want to be with me?" Was Alfred's stupid response, and even he knew it was the dumbest thing he'd ever said.

"Don't say that, you know it isn't true. I love you, Alfred, but I shouldn't exist like this. You and I both know that." Arthur squeezed the other's hand to the best of his ability.

"I know, I know. But I can't deal with the thought of you leaving me." Alfred covered his face with his hand, biting his lip to stop him from breaking down.

Arthur began to sob, "I want to be with you, too. More than anything I've ever wanted before, but I can't, not like this." He sniffled and cried.

Alfred attached their lips, wiping Arthur's tears as he did so, "I love you, Arthur." He whispered as he pulled back. Arthur smiled, his body visibly shaking.

Alfred knew Arthur was scared. He was scared to die, but didn't want anyone to know. No matter how much Arthur tried to hide it, Alfred could tell he was putting on a front.

Arthur was scared of dying, but he was more scared of people knowing his fear.

"I've fallen for you, Alfred Jones, and I don't know how to return to my feet." Arthur's words shook.

"And you, Arthur Kirkland, I've fallen for you." Alfred kissed his forehead.

And they sat for hours and talked, basking in each other's presence. But soon, they were interrupted by doctors rushing in to the beeping of Arthur's heart monitor. His heart was slowing rapidly, and Alfred knew that he was witnessing the last minutes of his love's life.

And then Arthur's hand went limp, and Alfred broke his promise.

———

originally posted on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22163416

thank you for reading! <3

[samaraclegane]

Harringrove prompt

Hi! Sorry to bother you, but I'd like to send a harringrove prompt. I hate how the whole Nancy cheating on Steve went way too quietly and how Jonathan looked like Nancy's dormat for all season three. And let's not talk about the hypocrisy of their "Justice for Barb".

Soo... could you write a story where Nancy tries to give Billy a warning on how he has to treat Steve right and our Billy makes a few points on what a bitch she has been and what a coward Jonathan is. (And if they see Billy and Steve having sex well, that's a plus!)

You know, I feel like Nancy got herself on a pedestal: believing she was the best thing happened to Steve, believing only she knew things about him like his loneliness, believing she was still his best friend. (We really need more Robin!)

However Billy is like "pleeeeseee. We talk, Missy Judge-you. I know that and more".

prompt from @shannara810

author’s note: wow. thanks so much for this! looooove the detail in it, thanks for taking the time to write it all. :) hope this little piece is good for you! I can totally see where you’re coming from with this. love love love it! also yes, strongly agree, we 100% need more Robin. she’s acc the love of my life. is that weird to say? who knows. lesbian energy 2kforever

-”and, really, I guess what I’m trying to say is...” Nancy pauses for a moment, and Billy merely watches her. “just be careful with him.”

-Billy could almost laugh. he could almost laugh, almost cry, almost vomit, almost slam the door of his car so loud it’d make them both deaf instantly. what was this chick on?

-”uh, excuse me?”

-she gave him a look like he was stupid, like she thought his question was a ‘I genuinely don’t understand’ as opposed to a ‘you’re not implying what I think you’re implying, are you’ and offering her a chance to retract her statement.

-”well, I think we both know you’re not the most gentle of people,” she stated and he accepted that this was true enough, though he’d been trying to let down his walls a little since getting with Steve. “so I just want you to understand that he’s not what all he seems.”

-”all he seems?” Billy barks out a laugh, but remains stoic. “and what does that mean?”

-”I mean, I don’t know if you know but, well-” she lowers her voice, seems to collapse in on herself as she crowds closer to Billy, her eyes turning shifty and secretive. “he’s sensitive. and he’s, like, really, really lonely.”

-”he isn’t lonely anymore, Wheeler,” Billy quips, quick to correct her. “I know about all of that. what, do you think I just got him in the sack without learning more than his name?”

-Nancy visibly winces, his words seeming to trigger her memory from a week or so earlier. there’s no doubt in Billy’s mind that this was the reason why she’d chosen to locate and corner him today, what with her having caught them in an - ahem - compromising position. he decided she needed to be knocked off of her high horse.

-still, even despite the pointed look he gave her, she went on undeterred. “no, but you’re- well, you’re you, aren’t you? I know after we broke up he was feeling pretty rough about it for a while. I just don’t want to find out you’ve been taking advantage of him being like that.”

-okay, no. fuck that. incredulously, he asks, “are you fucking serious right now?”

-”yeah, I am,” she says, standing straighter in an attempt to make her petite frame look at least somewhat intimidating. it doesn’t work.

-”alright, princess, you need to stop acting like the world revolves around you because - newsflash - it doesn’t,” he tells her, and she opens her mouth to retort, but he cuts her off before she does so. “I know Steve. I understand him. don’t act like I don’t care about him, ‘cause you don’t know shit.”

-”I think I know a little more about relationships than you do,” she sighs and folds her arms, sounding and looking bored of him already, and he just can’t have that.

-”actually, no. I don’t think you do,” he says, stepping a little closer, using body language to tell her he’s not about to be bullied into surrender; he’s got enough of that at home. “I don’t think you know shit about loving people. I think you only know what it’s like to crush hearts and move on to cowards like the Byers’ kid.”

-”Jonathan isn’t a coward,” she spits back, sounding more irate now, just as he’d expected. “he’s saved my life more than I can count, and he’s brave, and-”

-”yeah, right, save it,” Billy holds up a hand to stop her speaking. his tone is a little more level now, “I don’t need to hear you talk about how whipped he is, because I can see it. I’ve heard it all before; it’s exactly what you did to Steve, ruined him, and-”

-”okay, no, if you’d just listen-” she tries to interject, but her face becomes so hot, so obviously flushed with anger, that she stops herself. he doesn’t even have to cut her off this time; she does it for him.

-”I don’t give a shit what you do with him, to be honest,” Billy confesses, impressing even himself with how nonchalant he sounds as he does so, “but you can’t come in and ruin my relationship. I love Steve, let me tell you first-hand. you’re just gonna have to trust me on that, I’m afraid.”

-she stops for a moment, seeming pensive. she ponders for the longest time, eyeing him, and he doesn’t even dream of looking away. he simply stands before her, looking strong and unbreakable, and she finally begins to nod.

-”fine, whatever,” she eventually resigns, dropping her arms to her sides, letting them hang there limply. “but if I hear you broke his heart, I’ll be the first one onto you. we’re still close, you know - best friends, even - and-”

-this is another thing Billy won’t stand for. he just has to correct her, saying, “Robin’s his best friend.”

-”Robin?”

-”yeah, you know,” Billy explains, gesturing appropriately to various parts of his body, “short-haired Robin, eyeliner, about this tall, worked with him at Scoops...”

-a silent beat passes. “oh. right. okay.”

-”yeah, right,” he agrees, though making it obvious that his iteration means something different to hers. he gives her a look, and it takes her only a moment to give up and huff, stalking off, away from his car.

-he sighs, relieved. he’s not only glad to see her walk away, to leave him alone, but he likes that he’s finally gotten to say it. feeling lighter, he sits at the wheel. 

-there’s a burden been removed from his shoulders and, even though he’s still got a whole lot of other shit on his plate that he has to deal with, he’s glad that one’s gone. one at a time, he’ll sort through his problems.

-and, he thinks, an afterthought as he turns his car on and begins to drive away, with Steve by his side, he might not have to face them alone.

[genderpunktheo]

Hi, Now that ADAM is closer to opening in theaters, I've read a handful of fair and thorough reporting that makes a compelling argument against your call to preemptively boycott the film. You're even quoted in one of the articles, but a lot of the points you made are debunked by people who've seen the film or seem to be an oversimplification the film itself. What's your take on it now? Will you see the film?

Okay first of all: “your call to boycott the film” that’s not what happened at all. I specifically said that I wasn’t asking people to boycott the film, simply asking people to share my post about what the book was about so that trans and lesbian teens could choose whether or not to watch it with all of the information available to them. Other people started a boycott, but certainly not me. I didn’t even sign the petition to get the film pulled.

If people want to go and see it, that’s fine. I can’t stop them and nor would I try to. But I want people to be able to make the choice to go and see it with all of the information, not to go into it expecting a trans film and be surprised by what they end up with. 

Secondly, no one has debunked any of my points. My points were made about the book and are 100% true - nor has anyone, even the director of the film, tried to deny that. 

What they have said is that the film is different from the book and that they’ve made a lot of changes in order to make the narrative less harmful. I have no way of knowing whether or not that’s true since I haven’t seen the film but I really really hope that it is. Reportedly, they’ve removed the scene where he rapes her, which is a great start. 

BUT (and it’s a big but)

The film is still ultimately about a cis man pretending to be a trans man. Personally, I don’t think this can ever be something that’s handled well (though I’d like it if they proved me wrong) because of the current climate that we are in where trans identities are already perceived as costumes. Most people don’t actually think of me as nonbinary - they think of me as a girl dressed up. And this film, whether they intend it to do this or not, will reinforce that to a lot of people. 

It’s also playing off the transphobic (and especially transmisogynistic) trope that people are trans in order to get sex with someone who is otherwise off-limits to them... since in both the book and the film (according to those articles) Adam lies about being trans in order to have sex with a lesbian. This is an incredibly dangerous stereotype about trans people that literally gets us killed so to have a film coming out that says “hey look at this male person going trans in order to get with a lesbian!” is.... not good?

And finally, he’s still pretending to be a trans MAN in order to get with a LESBIAN. Meaning that the film is still presenting the idea that trans men ultimately aren’t real men because they have vaginas. 

Because of this, I still believe that the film will be incredibly harmful. I’m glad they at least tried I guess?? But it’s not something that’s fixable. I don’t believe that any of my points have been debunked - that transphobia is still there. 

Perhaps all of these things will be debunked. Perhaps other characters will call Adam out, perhaps it will be shown onscreen to be wrong. I hope so but I have a lot of doubts about it.

The director’s main defence of the film, as he’s quoted in those articles basically boils down to “trans stories shouldn’t have to be perfect and unproblematic in order to be told, we should be allowed to tell messy stories blah blah blah.” 

And in theory, I agree with him. I agree that we should get to tell messy stories about trans people, and that trans people shouldn’t have to be perfect role models in order to be worth making art about, and that we shouldn’t demand perfection from a minority in that way. 

But here’s the thing: ‘Adam’ is not a trans story, messy or otherwise. It is a cis story about a cis boy written by a cis woman based on cis stereotypes about what trans lives are like. 

The director being trans doesn’t suddenly make this story about a cis boy a trans story. And a cis boy pretending to be trans doesn’t count as a trans character. So whether we agree or disagree that the film is harmful... it’s still not a trans film. 

There’s the idea that this film takes cis ideas about trans people and turns them on their head. They think that Adam pretending to be trans is subverting something, that having him be the only cis straight person surrounded by trans queer people will make him the other, and that they can explore that. That they can take the stereotype of “trans deception” and make it “cis deception.” 

But from where I’m sat? They haven’t subverted anything. It’s still just “trans deception” - because it’s someone pretending to be trans to get a lesbian. You can’t subvert a transphobic trope by... just doing the trope?? That’s not what subversion means. Where is the subversion?? What’s different about this??? 

And then there’s the fact that a trans cast member spoke out about how terribly they were treated on set, and how they were othered and misgendered constantly. That gives me very limited faith in this team’s ability to pull off a film in a way that’s trans-friendly - let alone to pull off this specific film with such murky origins. 

Like I said, I haven’t seen the film. Maybe it will turn out they’ve pulled all of this off amazingly and I’ll be wrong. I’m happy to be wrong - in fact, I would prefer that because it would mean good news for the trans community instead of bad news.  For right now though? No, I will not be going to see the film and my opinion has not changed much. 

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 50

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

SYNOPSIS: Jamie and Claire see at first hand the business that Madame Cheung is in and Claire is troubled by the exploitation of the girls there.  When they return to the house, she discusses her disgust and abhorrence with Jamie.

Woo! Hoo! Chapter 50! ... THANK YOU so much for coming on this journey with me to the covert world of Section One. I appreciate each and every one of you who has embraced this story and read each chapter I have posted. I hope you are enjoying this rollercoaster ride of Jamie and Claire and the life they lead as operatives in trying to capture the terrorists and those who would do harm. I have really valued your support over the last 49 chapters.  To those who may have just found this story, I say THANK YOU as well for reading, liking or reblogging my story.  Previous chapters can be found … below.

Chapters 1 - 50 can be found at …https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

 CHAPTER 50

  Madame Cheung’s new club was a short distance further along the street and they soon took a sharp left and turned into what appeared to be a forbidding alley. This lane was very different from others they had passed. It was covered overhead with large canopies that stretched from one side to the other and almost appeared to be air-conditioned as it was significantly cooler than out on the main road.  Along the way numerous neon signs flickered advertising the different nightclubs and bars where people could be entertained for a price. Hustlers from two or three of the similar clubs beckoned any potential clients to come closer to inspect the entertainment available while Thai hawkers tried to verbally entice them into their establishments.

The noise in the alleyway was boisterous not only from the spruikers but from the milling crowd that walked along the lane that the hawkers failed to notice the formidable woman and her entourage walk past.   Not realising who the important woman was with the young couple, it was only when the spruikers saw the four bodyguards looming behind that they knew who this woman really was. Their banter stopped and they stood there carefully watching as the imposing Chinese woman and her companions all ignored their requests and kept on walking. Madame Cheung gave each vendor an icy cold glare as she passed by and the others realised that their trade tonight would be diminished now that a senior member of the Rising Dragons’ Triad had arrived to inspect her new establishment.  They watched as she continued down the street towards a brightly lit sign near the end of the alley that beckoned and a logo that was more noticeable and more dazzling than that of their own establishments. 

“Come we are nearly there,” Madame Cheung announced with a decisive pride in her voice.

Beneath the flashing neon sign and amid a crush of men lined up to enter the property they reached the entrance to her new club. Raucous wolf whistles filled the evening air when the men saw the exquisite, tall brunette woman pass by thinking that she was one of the new ladies who would cater to their personal preference requests. Claire smiled but ignored their enthusiastic jibes as she bypassed those gathered. However, the men were soon silenced when Jamie wrapped his arm around Claire’s waist and cast his steely look their way signalling that the woman was indeed with him. They continued a little further down the street before entering the building by a side door and followed Madame Cheung inside where a petite Thai woman was there to greet them.

“S̄wạs̄dī - Good evening Madame,” the young girl repeated in English as she acknowledged her employer with a slight bow with the palms of her hands pressed together in a prayer-like fashion.

Madame Cheung returned the greeting.

“I see business is booming tonight Mali,” she replied most pleased knowing that the crowd outside her business establishment was considerable, which meant that these paying customers would indeed add to the coffers of the triad tonight.

“Yes, Madame Cheung ... it has been very steady.”

“That is good.” She then issued another order, “Tell Suchin I wish to see her in my office.”

“Straight away Madame,” she replied making her way out of the office to find the person in question.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ A short while later a beautiful Thai girl with glowing skin and beautiful ebony hair appeared in Madame Cheung’s office where she was conversing with Jamie and Claire trying to impress Le Comte St Germain as to the success of her establishment here in Patpong. She stopped talking when she realised that the girl had entered the office.

“Ah, Suchin, come in my dear. I am very impressed ... you have done wonders here in managing the club,” Madame Cheung said as the girl approached her desk. “I have been examining the books and I see our profits are up 100 percent from last week. Great work.”

“Thank you Madame,” Suchin replied a little embarrassed by the compliment.

Madame Cheung merely smiled and turning her attention towards her two guests she stated, “I’d like to introduce Monsieur Le Comte St Germain and my newest protégé Claire Beauchamp.” The Thai girl nodded her head in greeting as Madame Cheung continued. “Would you show them around? Monsieur Le Comte is thinking of becoming my business partner so he will want to see how things operate here.” “Certainly Madame ... follow me please,” she urged gesturing to the two Section One operatives to follow her out of the office little knowing that they were doing reconnaissance on the building for their future plans.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As Jamie and Claire exited the office, they saw a stairway leading upwards to another level. Tuneful music could be heard coming from the second floor and they proceeded up the stairs to find a room where padded bench-style seating ran along the back of the wall. The area looked very comfortable and a well-stocked bar ran alongside the opposite far wall. There were several escort girls congregating near the dance stage and some more in a curved corner of the bench seating waiting for the male clientele they knew would soon be here from outside. A number of the girls looked no older than teenagers and Claire cast a probing look Jamie’s way, but he merely responded with his patent blank stare. However, she immediately knew exactly what he was thinking without communicating one word. Those non-verbal responses were a pattern between the two of them and Claire responded with a sight tilt of her head in understanding. Her eyes scanned the upper floor with interest and when she noticed a young scantily dressed dancer was getting ready to perform, an eerie feeling of déjà vu weighed heavily on Claire.  This club was similar to what she had worked in, in Hong Kong, when Oliver Chan had approached her.  These kinds of establishments were obviously typical for the Rising Dragons and were used to lure young women into prostitution with little or no way out. It made her feel sick to the stomach. The vile taste of bile rose in her throat and Claire swallowed the acrid fluid quickly when their hostess spoke. “Would you care for something to drink?” Suchin asked as they approached the bar area. Turning back to face the Thai girl after casting a covert glance around the room as well Jamie replied, “Cha ... thank you.”

A little surprised at his beverage request she answered, “Of course, Monsieur Le Comte.  Tea is certainly more refreshing in this heat. And you ma’am?”

“I agree, tea sounds perfect. Thank you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Suchin ordered the tea to be brought to a table near the bar and when it arrived, she poured the hot brew into the small oriental cups then passed them to Jamie and Claire. They placed the cups to their lips and drank while their eyes surreptitiously surveyed the surroundings once more.

As they drank, she began to promote the wonderful things about the club to Madame Cheung’s potential partner and in particular the policy to which all the patrons of the club must adhere.

“There are certain rules here Monsieur Le Comte that Madame insists upon. For one thing, there are no drugs and the other, safe sex.”

“Commendable indeed,” Jamie replied.

“Yes, Madame Cheung insists that the girls are tested regularly for drug use or any sexually transmitted diseases.” 

“The girls appear young,” Claire stated casting her eye around the room at the girls who were waiting for the male patrons to enter.

Ready with an appropriate response Suchin elaborated, “Yes we like to train them early Miss Beauchamp. In actual fact we rescue them from rural poverty, for many are the youngest in large families that are already struggling to make ends meet. It is truly a blessing that Madame Cheung is so benevolent to her girls.”  

Her answer was indicative of them being a godsend for the girls working there rather than the true answer to their plight and Claire was inwardly seething at her flippant reply. It took all of her willpower to bite her tongue and if not for Jamie continuing the conversation, she may have said something she would have regretted.  

“Interesting you should say that Suchin. That is my line of occupation too,” Jamie stated with a forced smile on his face as if this information was normal practise for all of these establishments. “Ah, I can see now why Madame wants to be in business with you Monsieur,” Suchin replied with a tacit understanding as to her employer’s motives in seeking to form a partnership with this man. “Madame Cheung is like a mother to them ... a role model for the girls. They love this work.” The words were spoken so naturally and with complete pride in her voice that Claire nearly spilt the tea down her dress as she chocked on a mouthful of the hot brew. She found herself listening with a heavy heart. The frustrations building inside her were being exacerbated the more the Thai girl extolled the virtues of Madame Cheung. Claire was appalled at the underlying underbelly of her business which ultimately was the exploitation of young gullible and innocent poor victims. When they had finished their tea, Suchin announced, “Shall we go? I have more I would like to show you.” “Certainly.” Moving back below, they proceeded with their inspection of Madame Cheung’s latest establishment from the discreet quiet quarters for t��te et tètes to the more public rooms where girls mingled with the clientele. In one such area there were several banquette lounges, and a number of the men who had been waiting outside now intermingled with the beautifully attired Thai and other Asian girls. The new club certainly catered for all kinds of decadent requests and sensing Claire’s distaste in the whole situation, Jamie indicated that he had seen enough, and requested that they return to Madame Cheung’s office. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Looking up from her ledgers as she heard them all enter the office Madame Cheung proclaimed, “Ah, you are back. I trust that Suchin showed you all around our modest establishment Monsieur St Germain?”

“Yes she was very thorough,” Jamie replied smiling at her but at the same time trying to keep the disgust out of his voice.

Madame Cheung was most pleased at this statement.  “Good. So, Monsieur Le Comte ... have you reached a decision?” Her expression was hopeful as she looked at him and waited for his reply.

“I believe we can do business together Madame Cheung. I can definitely help you out. Do we have an agreement?” Jamie reached out his hand as she stood up to acknowledge his reply. Madame Cheung could not wipe the smile off her face. “Yes ... I think we have a perfect understanding Monsieur Le Comte ... I never doubted that would be your answer. Shall we have a drink to toast our collaboration?” “Of course.” Depressing her call button she summoned for champagne to be sent to the office. “Mali... bring my best champagne ... we have cause to celebrate.” “At once Madame.”

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Here’s to a most beneficial association for the Rising Dragons ... and for me. I believe that you will go far in our organisation Monsieur Le Comte.” “Merci, you are too kind Madame Cheung ... but I’m sure your association with me will be the better one. I have plans for you Madame that you will not be able to resist.” “Sounds intriguing Monsieur ... I look forward to that and so much more from our association ... May it be a long and successful one.” “Oh it will be very successful ... I can assure you.”

Jamie’s ambiguous answer given to this terrorist who soon would feel the wrath of an interrogation in the White Room was cause for a wry smile not only from him but from Claire as well who could not wait until this woman was no longer around to inflict more hardship on vulnerable young women.  

Later that evening ... 

Jamie noticed Claire’s quietness and melancholic mood since returning from Madame Cheung’s club this evening, and as she sat down, he broached the cause of her disquiet.

“Sassenach, what's wrong?” 

“Jamie, I just need to talk.” Little did he know that she would unburden all of her pent-up frustration at what she had seen. “We have to do something ... this can’t go on. Those girls tonight were mere babies. It’s exploitation of the worse kind. I can’t bear this another moment.” “Listen to me Claire … You're too emotionally vested. Don’t worry ... it is all under control.” “Control? What control? These are innocent, lovely girls, born on poverty-stricken farms in Thailand and other places in Asia, who are being exploited.” Jamie tried to reply as sympathetically as he could particularly knowing Claire’s mindset at the moment.  This mission had tested her emotions and her empathy for the vulnerable women caught up in this insidious business. “Unfortunately child exploitation is prevalent in poor, underdeveloped countries Sassenach.” “Yeah ... I’ve heard the spiel before! Unscrupulous "career counsellors" and "job experts" eagerly trek to their villages seeking out these lovely underage girls. They take them to Bangkok with a promise of marriage, education, and well-paying jobs. It’s a farce Jamie ... it’s sickening.” “That’s the business Le Comte St. Germain and Madame Cheung are in mo nighean donn.” “What did Suchin call it? ... Ah ... yes ... We like to rescue them from rural poverty because they like to train them early.” Jamie could see that his Claire was upset by what she had seen and witnessed and tried to diffuse the situation with some words that would ease her distress to what would happen.  “We will do something about it Sassenach. Madame Cheung won’t be in business for much longer.” “When Jamie?” “Soon ... be patient mo ghràidh.” Claire was nearly at her wits end while the emotion in her voice indicated that she was bordering on tears.  “I have been patient Jamie ... I don’t know how much longer I can be. These girls are sold for the price of a television set or opium or for a quick baht in their parents’ pockets ... maybe even kidnapped.” “Unfortunately it's not called kidnapping if illiterate parents draw their X's on paper releasing their daughters. St. Germain was a master at doing just that … exploiting the illiteracy of the parents.” “He’s dead ... thank God! It’s duping them into selling their daughters’ souls. These trusting girls have no idea what awaits them here in Bangkok when they are forced to prance on stage and are sold like animals in a meat market Jamie. They end up with no rights and no life. It’s vile ... it makes me nauseous.”

“Dinna fash yersel' Sassenach. Once we know Madame Cheung’s schedule, we’ll implement the profile but we’ll need to know her plans for the next two days ... Just be prepared for anything.”

“Good. I’ll find out that information then,” she stated emphatically.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Claire’s passionate tirade showed her deep compassion for the oppressed innocents that Madame Cheung exploited in Hong Kong as well as here in Thailand which was obviously only the tip of the iceberg. Jamie knew that the sooner she was Section One’s guest the better it would be and the faster Claire would be released from her deep cover mission. They stared at one another in silence and Jamie watched the weariness of this mission wash over her features. She had endured a lot over the past few weeks and the subterfuge around Madame Cheung was beginning to take its toll. Claire needed closure on this mission sooner rather than later or her emotions would be further affected and the pretence life that she had embraced under the Rising Dragons’ triad needed to be done with.   In order to do this Jamie knew that his planned scenario only needed the green light from Madame Cheung herself. When they knew her movements ... he would contact Section to alert Abernathy’s secondary team to provide back up for first team, but until then they needed to be cautious and wait for the window of opportunity they needed.

His Claire needed to regain the happiness in her eyes that had been eroded bit by bit because of this mission and she needed to know what it felt liked to be loved.  Jamie knew what he needed to do to bring that spark back to her eyes and placed his hand over the small package he had put in the pocket of his jacket.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As Claire let his words sink in Jamie approached her and stood quietly until she looked up. Her eyes connected with his in inquiry for he had a look on his face that she could not quite decipher. She watched somewhat perplexed as her eyes looked at his hands then to his face before following his hand movements again to where it rested on his chest.  Unexpectedly Jamie then reached into his jacket and pulled out a small box and handed it to her. 

“What’s this?” She asked in surprise at receiving the gift but a smile bowed her mouth at his unexpected gesture. “Just open it,” he uttered softly as his fingers beat a little nervous thrum on his thigh. Jamie watched as Claire bit her lip in anticipation of what it could be, but his thoughts remembered the only other gift he’d ever given her on her first mission when he’d taken her to the restaurant. Claire had thought it was a celebratory dinner for graduating from the extensive Section One training regimen she had endured for four years, but he had dashed her hopes when he’d presented her with the gun and told her what to do. This time however, Claire’s eyes filled with wonder and unshed tears as she saw the lovely Franck Muller watch she had wanted. Looking up her eyes captured his hopeful gaze with such tenderness and gratitude at his wonderful gesture that her look pierced his heart. He had never given her anything personal before and he knew that the present was beyond priceless to Claire. At this moment he was lost for words and didn’t quite know what he should do when she stood up. “It’s lovely ... thank you Jamie,” she replied her voice choking up with emotion. Spontaneously Claire threw her arms around Jamie’s neck and kissed him, hugging him to her chest realising just what he’d done for her. His lips softly caressed hers in return tasting the salty tears that had trickled down her cheeks.  Ever so gently he brushed them away with his fingers, then reciprocating the embrace, he held her tight deepening the kiss as his lips fused with her pliable mouth once more.

Claire groaned, then picking her up, Jamie carried her into the bedroom, their conversation about Madame Cheung and child exploitation all but forgotten for the time being. 

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued

[maxwellyjordan]

Symposium: On a petition that does not exist

Kyle Hawkins is the solicitor general of Texas.

SCOTUSblog has asked me to assess whether the Supreme Court should grant a cert petition that does not exist.

That petition, should it ever come to be, would probably be styled June Medical Services, LLC v. Gee, though we can’t be 100 percent sure until we see it. It presumably would be about a Louisiana law that, operating within the confines of the Supreme Court’s 2016 decision in Whole Woman’s Health v. Hellerstedt, requires abortion providers to carry certain hospital admitting privileges. The U.S. Court of Appeals for the 5th Circuit faithfully applied Hellerstedt to uphold the law, recognizing a different regulatory structure, different impact and different evidentiary record. A few weeks ago, June Medical asked the Supreme Court to stay that decision pending the conclusion of any proceedings before the court; the court agreed to do so.

But June Medical did not file — and, indeed, still has not filed — a cert petition. Any such petition would be due in mid-April, unless the would-be petitioners get one or more extensions. Since it’s now early March, at least six weeks of litigating actual cases separate this symposium from the world’s knowing whether an abortion provider will pursue its quest to overturn its loss in the court of appeals — and how it will try to do so.

If June Medical takes the common tack of alleging a circuit split, its petition should fail. As far as I can tell, there’s no circuit split, perhaps because the decision below is entirely fact-bound. So how is the petition going to plead around those apparently fatal defects? I don’t know, and a symposium that predates June Medical’s (maybe eventual?) answer offers no real chance to find out.

But this symposium doesn’t just offer hot takes on … nothing. It’s much worse than that because it stacks the deck against the would-be respondent. One of the tried-and-true bottom-side cert-stage strategies is to explain why there’s “nothing to see here.” This works all the time; the Supreme Court takes only important cases that turn on the law, not insignificant ones that turn on facts. So if you’re a respondent, your best move is to convince the court that the petition just doesn’t matter. That’s why we never see cert-stage bottom-side amicus briefs, which would only serve to attract the exact attention the brief in opposition seeks to deflect.

It’s therefore puzzling why SCOTUSblog has decided that the nonexistent June Medical petition is so consequential that it merits a slew of articles on how the merits of the case should be decided before a petition is even filed. To host a symposium is to declare a case a Big Deal. Sorry, Louisiana — and good luck arguing that this case doesn’t matter when the one blog every law clerk reads has declared it so crucial that it merits its own pre-petition symposium.

The answer to the question of why hold a pre-petition symposium for this case can’t be because it’s the only abortion petition to (maybe at some point) reach the Supreme Court since Justice Brett Kavanaugh’s confirmation. Consider two actually filed petitions presenting questions about abortion. Box v. Planned Parenthood, No. 18-1019, presents this issue: “May a State, consistent with the Fourteenth Amendment, require an ultrasound as part of informed consent at least eighteen hours before an abortion?” That petition was filed last month; the BIO is due soon. The petition contains plenty of discussion of Hellerstedt. Or how about the other Box v. Planned Parenthood, No. 18-483? That one asks, in part, “[w]hether a State may prohibit abortions motivated solely by the race, sex, or disability of the fetus and require abortion doctors to inform patients of the prohibition.” Cert-stage briefing is complete with over a dozen amicus briefs submitted, making for a pretty interesting read. Why not host a pre-grant symposium on either of those cases?

If a June Medical petition ever materializes, Louisiana won’t have a hard time pointing out the many considerations that weigh against review. The court of appeals applied the substantial-obstacle test from Hellerstedt and Planned Parenthood of Southeastern Pennsylvania v. Casey to the specific facts in front of it, weighed the burdens and benefits of the law, and concluded that the plaintiffs had not met their burden of demonstrating facial invalidity. In doing so, the court undertook a detailed review of the efforts made by each abortion-performing physician in Louisiana to obtain admitting privileges, including the specific hospitals to which they applied and the status of each application. The court also evaluated the capacity of the physicians to perform additional abortions, breaking it down by the number of abortions per year, per week, per day, and even per hour.

The panel’s decision turned on those facts. It’s unclear why the Supreme Court would intervene for the purpose of revisiting that fact-bound application of settled law.

If the court were to grant whatever petition might emerge, this looks like a straightforward case for affirmance. The record indicates that the physicians who perform abortions in Louisiana did not make good-faith efforts to obtain admitting privileges before filing a lawsuit claiming that they could not obtain privileges. That implicates a simple question of causation, not a re-evaluation of abortion jurisprudence. If the abortion providers did not make good-faith attempts to obtain admitting privileges, then any burden placed on women is the result of the abortion providers’ lack of effort, not Louisiana’s admitting-privileges law. As it stands, the panel determined that only a single physician made a good-faith attempt to obtain privileges and failed, but that other providers could absorb the demand.

And in reaching that conclusion, the court of appeals cited Hellerstedt repeatedly and applied it faithfully. The court took pains to explain why the facts in this case required a different conclusion than the facts in Hellerstedt. That’s not the making of a cert-worthy case — and it’s certainly not a constitutional crisis worthy of a nationwide debate.

But I’m just spitballing. No petition means no questions presented, which means we’re not sure what issues and arguments the hypothetical future petitioners will tee up.

If a petition ever gets filed and granted, I’d welcome the chance to participate in a symposium debating the actual QPs the Supreme Court agreed to review based on the strength of the parties’ arguments. Until then, though, it appears we’re just creating sound and fury about an abortion provider who surely appreciates all this interest in its nonexistent petition.

***

Cases linked to in this post:

Planned Parenthood of Southeastern Pa. v. Casey, 505 U.S. 833 (1992) Whole Woman’s Health v. Hellerstedt, 136 S. Ct. 2292 (2016)

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[scarleteenconfidential]

Scarleteen Confidential: Supporting, and Understanding, Youth Activism

To say we're living in tumultuous times is putting it mildly. If you live in the U.S., waking up in the morning brings the question of what new, disastrous, and cruel actions your government will attempt today. Globally, countries are seeing an increase in conservative extremism that's concerning to anyone with a good grasp of history and a desire to see their fellow humans treated with dignity and compassion.

There are, however, innumerable bright spots slicing through the bleakness. Protests and activism of all kinds are sprouting up to face what's happening and what's coming. Some, such as Black Lives Matter, are continuing a fight for justice that began years ago. And as we saw in last fall's elections in which multiple trans individuals and people of color won political positions (often by beating out vocally bigoted opponents), activism can have concrete consequences.

Young people are a core part of this resistance and often the driving force behind it. They're organizing, marching, protesting, petitioning, and writing to fight for what they believe in. Their bodies and faces are present at capital buildings, campuses, airports, and in the streets, raising their voices to reject fascism and fear and call instead for justice and love.

As these examples from throughout history demonstrate, adults have always had opinions about what young people are doing. Lots of opinions. For the sake of this article, we'll divide those opinions into three categories.

First are the adults who are active activists themselves and are darn proud to see young people carrying on the tradition of resistance.

Next are the adults who want to support the activism of the young people in their lives, but aren't sure how to do so and/or have some concerns about the well-being and safety of those young people. These adults may not quite grasp where the drive towards activism is coming from, but are willing to learn.

Finally, there are adults who think young people might be complaining a bit too much and that the current political and social situations are "just the way things are."

I want to address the "young people are overreacting" group first. I understand it may feel as though young people are constantly protesting one thing or another. That much, if not all, of what they're protesting seems silly, overstated, or made-up to you. Maybe you can't figure out why they care about trans people being able to use a certain bathroom. Or why they're angry about how there are so few people of color represented in the media. Or why they're demanding that people resign over sexual harassment that seems mild to you.

Here's the truth: the reason young people appear to be protesting everything is there is a lot of messed up stuff in the world. Climate change, LGBTQ victimization, an uptick in global fascism, and a host of other terrible, gut-wrenchingly awful events. Messed up situations are never changed by the oppressed waiting quietly for oppressors give them more freedom. There's a reason we remember the Freedom Riders, the Stonewall Riots, the Suffragettes. Why in twenty years we'll remember Black Lives Matter. They were, and are, movements of protest that sparked greater social change by demanding it, rather than waiting for it.

Most people's teenage and young adult years are when their social consciousness kicks into overdrive. They're maturing, becoming more independent, and starting to explore the world outside of their homes and schools. As that happens, they view or experience moments of discrimination or oppression and may feel as though they are finally old enough to do something about those moments. The injustices of the world start coming into focus for them, and their ability to articulate how messed up those injustices are is increasing. They're noticing all the ways that oppression and bias harm them and the people they care about. Speaking out against injustice gives young people the ability to make their voices heard on issues that affect them. That is something to be celebrated!

How to Move from Unsure to Supportive

What if you're just a little nervous about youth protest, and you're worried about the safety of young people on the front lines? Take some time to reflect on where your feelings are coming from. Maybe you don't feel informed enough on an issue to know if you agree with those who are protesting. Maybe you don't believe a given form of protest is effective. If that's the case, read up on the issue in question and on the history of different activist movements. The suggestions below are a great place to get started, and reading them can give you context for why young people are resisting and why they've chosen the methods that they have for that resistance. While you still may not agree with them, you'll at least be able to understand where they're coming from.

Recommended Reading

The Fire This Time: A New Generation Speaks about Race

100 Years of Youth-Led Social Activism

Tracing the History of Student Activism and Why it's so Important Today

The Other Student Activists

It may be that you're already supportive of the young activists in your life, but you've got no clue about how to express that support. Maybe a young person in your life wants to make the world a better place but is unsure where to start. Talk with them about the things that matter to them and why. What issues are they passionate about? What laws or policies affect them and those they love? What are their thoughts on different political events? Where do they see themselves as able to make a difference? Listen to them as they talk and give them space to share what's going on inside their minds and hearts.

Once they've come up with causes that matter to them, the old adage "think global, act local" comes into play. It's tempting to make a plan where you will single-handedly solve a national issue, but that often requires time and resources that few people have (at least at the beginning of their activism). The average person has more ability to change the institutions, laws, and climate of their local region. Look for local organizations in need of some help, or nearby chapters of larger organizations. Alternatively, they can look at laws or policies in their town to see if there is anything they think needs changing that they could organize a campaign around. Advocates for Youth created a guide to help young people (and supportive adults) through the process of deciding how to address a social issue that matters to them.

Practical Matters When Protesting

If a youth in your life is interested in or planning on protesting, it's beneficial to sit with them and discuss risks and benefits. Depending on the type of protest, there may be risks of arrest, physical harm, or social repercussions. Some or all of those outcomes could be more than they are prepared to deal with right now. Those outcomes have the potential to be more or less harmful depending on identity. People of color and the trans community may avoid protests in which police conflict is likely because of a very poor record when it comes to law enforcement interactions, for example. Other people may have health issues that would be exacerbated by an arrest or counter-protest measures like pepper spray, and thus opt out of attending protests where those methods might be used.

We include steps to protesting safely in our Rebel Well guide, and Colorlines has an excellent piece on what to do if you're arrested, but some questions for you and a young person to talk about include:

If something bad happens, be that arrest or injury, who is their emergency contact?

What is the demographic make-up of the groups protesting? Is the protest led by a group like Black Lives Matter, which tends to attract more police attention than a protest led by white people?

If they were to be arrested, is there someone in a position to post their bail? Bail can run from a few hundred dollars to a thousand and some families or individuals simply do not have the resources needed to cover that cost.

Do they know what to do if confronted by law enforcement?

Do they have a safe method of getting to and from the protest?

Who is going with them? It's advisable that you don't go to a protest alone, especially if you're a minor.

If the situation at the protest escalates to a level they're uncomfortable with, do they know how to get to safety?

I'd like to say that, as long as you do not engage in anything violent or illegal, there's no risk of being arrested or facing police violence. However, we know that's not always true. Whether it's peaceful indigenous water protectors being hit with fire hoses and rubber bullets or, several years ago, students at my university being pepper-sprayed for sitting in a circle, "official" responses do not always match the actual threat level. Any time there are both protesters and police present, there is a risk.

I also have to mention that protest may be met with violence from those you're protesting against. While standing up to a gathering of Nazis and white supremacists in Charlottesville in Summer 2017, protesters were attacked. One white supremacist drove his car into a crowd of them, killing one person and injuring others. If you're protesting a group with a history of violence, the horrible reality is that they can direct that violence towards you. Whether you choose to put yourself in the path of that violence is a decision we each have to make individually. The young person in your life may decide that they're willing to risk it. I don't want to downplay the fear and worry that can cause for all the adults who love that young person. But if a young adult has weighed the risks of protesting and is ready to face them, then you need to honor that choice. If they are minors, you can refuse to consent to them attending the event (at least in the U.S). However, even if you do that, there's a chance that will choose to go anyway. This means that it's better to have an open, honest conversation about safety and other important aspects of protesting so they feel like they have someone to come to for help, rather than like they need to go behind your back.

Marches and demonstrations aren't the only way to be politically active. There are dozens of other ways for youth to get involved in causes they believe in. You can encourage them to explore those options and, if they're open to it, even brainstorm different approaches with them. Some possibilities include:

Creating Art: Stories, music, photography, and all sorts of creative endeavors are, and have been, tools of resistance. They also give young people a way to channel and transform whatever rough feelings they have about world events into something new and beautiful.

Fundraising: From the classic bake sale to the athletic fun run, there are plenty of ways for young people to raise money. Fundraising can also double as community education, as it helps people in the community learn about a certain issue.

Volunteering: Most organizations that work to mitigate or change the injustices of this world rely heavily on volunteers. Not only does volunteering give young people the chance to contribute, it also provides a space where they can learn skills like community organizing that will be useful to them throughout their life.

Politics: If someone is a young adult, they can look for ways to get involved in local politics, including running for office. If they're too young to run, they can still research candidates to find ones that align with their beliefs and values and see if there are opportunities to help them campaign. They could also look into student government opportunities at their school for a chance to have a say in the climate of a place where they spend a lot of their time.

You can also support youth activism in subtler ways. Parents who have the means will sometimes donate to causes and organizations close to a young person's heart. Some make it a point to talk with the youth in their lives and ask their opinions about global events as a way of encouraging their civic engagement and critical thinking. Others find that allowing young people space to voice their concerns and resistance in everyday situations helps their social consciousness grow. For example, if a young person wants to advocate for a policy change at their school, ask if and how they want your support. This shows them that you believe they can, and should, try to make positive changes to the world around them.

If you're an adult with an activism history of your own, you can offer the young people in your life the chance to talk with you about your experiences. This is helpful in part because the tools and strategies of successful activism need to be passed down from generation to generation. It's also beneficial for young activists to see older folks who are still fighting for what they believe in. Young people encounter a strong narrative of "you'll get over this once you're older and start paying taxes/have kids/see how the world really is." Seeing adults who've continued to believe in the power of everyday people to change the world, and who continue to fight against injustice, provides a welcome and inspiring counterpoint to that narrative.

Ultimately, the best thing you can do is make a genuine, good faith effort to understand where the youth in your life are coming from. You may not always agree with each other, and you may not always fully understand their motives or feelings. But if you treat young people as if their feelings about world events are valid rather than dismiss them as foolish or ill-informed, you signal to them that you really are an ally in their fight to change the world.

More Like This

Rebel Well: A Starter Survival Guide to a Trumped America

Rebel Well No Matter Where You Are

Popaganda: A Guide to Trump Resistance

Want to Organize a Protest?

Reframing Faculty Critiques of Student Activism

Amnesty International Explains Youth Rights for Protesting in High School

Youth Activists Explain How they Lowered the Voting Age in Their City to 16

- Sam

This is part of our series for parents or guardians. To find out more about the series, click here. For our top five guiding principles for parents or guardians, click here; for a list of resources, click here. To see all posts in the series, click the Scarleteen Confidential tag at Scarleteen, or follow the series here on Tumblr at scarleteenconfidential.tumblr.com.

[fiti-vation]

So do you follow Johnson's advice to Florence, "to run as a man, you must train like a man"? One other point, do you think you have plateaued, leveled off and must now move to your next plateau in order to exceed your old times?

Nope I don’t!One thing I’ve never adhered to as anindividual and as an athlete is double standards. I have never agreed with the oldsaying that men are better than women. Physicalstrength can be defined in different ways. Women bubble with a source of powerthat even science has yet to fully understand. They tend to be better survivorsthan men. What’s more, they are born this way. Note, don’t get me wrong here itis true however that biologically speaking men produce more testosterone thanwomen. One of the main reasons why, in my opinion it is near impossible for awoman to ever become the fastest human on Earth is because men have the biological advantage ofproducing more testosterone. But if we think about it, Florence Joyner Griffithis the 4th fastest human on the planet, she is so close to AsafaPowell’s time. I personally believe that a younger Flo Jo given the propertools and conditions could have been the 3rd fastest person on Earth– keep in mind that Flo was 28 when she became the fastest women on Earth. Also,note I’mcertainly not going to engage in a “men versus women” battle. Both men andwomen have strengths and weaknesses. Weare equal but different. Those differences are complementary and should becelebrated rather than eroded.It’s not about training like a man, it’s all about training harder. When I look at men training duringtrack practices they often tend to be physically harder and more demanding thanthose of women. I remember once when I first got into track, it was weightlifting day and the coach separated the guys and the girls – we were doing thesame drills, but different with weight. The twist here is that I was placedwith the boys.I have always been on the thicker side (like Rosa Acosta)and the other females I was training with were more on the petite side. To makea long story short, I was lifting the same weight as the guys. I was so excitedthat day to be honest with you, I’ve always loved to dismantle the old societalbelief that women are not made to lift heavy.All that said, I believe one of the factors that couldexplain why female sprinters have not yet been able to reach Flo Jo’s time orrun as fast as she is because they don’t use the internal robustness they wereborn with to its full potential.

INTERNAL ROBUSTNESS:

Anyhow, back to survival, recent researches havedemonstrated that women are better survivors. You’re probably wondering whatall that has to do with running, well I’ll get into it a bit later on.For almost two decades, Steven Austad, an internationalexpert on ageing, and chair of the biology department at the University ofAlabama, has been studying one of the best-known yet under-researched facts ofhuman biology: that women live longer than men. According to Austad (2016), atevery age, women seem to survive better than men despite suffering morephysical limitations later in life. His longevity database shows that all overthe world and as far back as records have been kept, women outlive men byaround five or six years. He describes them as being more “robust”.What makes baby girls so robust remains mostly a mystery.Research published in 2014 by scientists at the University of Adelaide suggeststhat a mother’s placenta may behave differently depending on the sex of thebaby, doing more to maintain the pregnancy and increase immunity againstinfections. For reasons unknown, girls may be getting an extra dose ofsurvivability in the womb.Robustness,toughness or pure power – whatever it’s called – this survival ability cracksapart the stereotype.

NOW WE’REGETTING TO THE RUNNING PART:

Women are known to be particularly good at endurancerunning, notes Marlene Zuk, who runs a lab focusing on evolutionary biology atthe University of Minnesota. In her 2013 book Paleofantasy, she writes thatwomen’s running abilities decline extremely slowly into old age. They’ve beenknown to go long distances even while pregnant. In 2011, for example, AmberMiller ran the Chicago marathon before giving birth seven hours later. Worldrecord holder Paula Radcliffe has trained through two pregnancies.Why, then, are women not all Amazons? Why do we imaginefemininity to mean small, waif-like bodies? The lives of most ordinary women,outside the pages of magazines, destroy this notion. If you go to India, youwill see female construction workers lining the streets, hauling piles ofbricks on their heads to building sites. In Kenya, there are female securityguards everywhere, patrolling offices and hotels. Out in rural areas, there arewomen doing hard physical labour, often hauling their children in slings. Ourancestors would have done the same.In evolutionary terms, these were the circumstances underwhich our bodies were forged. For an enormous chunk of early human history, aswe migrated through Africa to the rest of the world, women would also havetravelled hundreds or thousands of miles, sometimes under extreme environmentalconditions. “Just reproducing and surviving in these conditions, talk aboutnatural selection” (Saini. 2017).Now going back to what I mentioned earlier on, the reasonwomen are athletically limited when it comes to their physical abilities isbecause they are trained too often delicately as you saw from the example I’vegiven earlier from my track practice. If more women would tap into thatinternal robustness and potentialize it such as Flo Jo did their athletic performancecould be phenomenal I believe.I know there are some people who will be coming at mesaying, well if women start training too hard, they may start to look manly,muscly and unattractive. If there is onething I’ve always hated to hear is that old fashion misconception. A lot ofpeople who are unfamiliar with bodybuilding, athleticism and nutrition sciencehave that mentality.Women do not produce enough testosterone to look like a man.I repeat WOMEN DO NOT PRODUCE ENOUGH TESTOSTERONE TO LOOK LIKE A MAN! It hasnever been scientifically proven that lifting heavy will make a woman growfacial hair, get a deep voice and so on. I have seen girls leg press 400lbs (including myself) and they look just fine! There is no way for a woman to ever achievethat look naturally (see picture below) unless she is using roids or was bornwith an intersex trait or a medical condition such as hyperandrogenism. Womenusing steroids such as high doses of testosterone grow facial hair, their vocalchords thicken, their voices drop, they get hair on their chest and back, theirclitoris grow into a male-like appendage…

Thisis what astronomical doses of testosterone in women do… To make huge gains like that realistically, it’s almost impossible without anabolics, period. That said, I love and support all of my “buff” Barbies out there, I love watching bodybuilding shows, but I have never condoned the use of steroids especially as an ethical athlete. Also, I’m using bodybuilding as an example here, but females abusing steroids happens in every sport.

How fast can humans run? The fastest person clocked on our planettoday is the Jamaican athlete Usain Bolt, who ran the 100 meter sprint at the 2008 Summer Olympics in Beijing in aworld record of 9.58 seconds, which works out to be about 37.6 kilometers perhour or 23.4 miles per hour.For a brief period during that sprint, Bolt reached an astounding 12.3 metersper second (27.51 mph or 44.28 kph).nd (27.51 mph or 44.28 kph).Humanscould perhaps run as fast 40 mph, a new study suggests. Such a feat would leavein the dust the world’s fastest runner, Usain Bolt, who has clocked nearly 28mph in the 100-meter sprint [X]. The new findings come after researchers took a new look atthe factors that limit human speed. Their conclusions? The top speed humanscould reach may come down to how quickly muscles in the body can move and thisapplies to both men and women. Previousstudies have suggested the main hindrance to speed is that our limbs can onlytake a certain amount of force when they strike the ground. This may not be thewhole story, however.“Ifone considers that elite sprinters can apply peak forces of 800 to 1,000 poundswith a single limb during each sprinting step, it’s easy to believe thatrunners are probably operating at or near the force limits of their muscles andlimbs,” said Peter Weyand of Southern Methodist University, one of thestudy’s authors. But Weyand and colleagues found in treadmill tests that ourlimbs can handle a lot more force than what is applied during top-speedrunning.

How to improve your running speed?

Now regarding your second questions, I don’t think that Ihave reached a plateau, but I think that my bad habits are what’s underminingmy full potential, I’ll elaborate on that. No matter what the statistics say,you need to remember that every individual differs from the next. There arefactors such as body type, age, gender, fitness and more that can alsodetermine the speed at which one can run. To keep thing short and simple here I’llonly elaborate on the training aspect.The way I got seriously intofitness is by jogging daily, but as sprinter the problem here is that thisundermines my performance (I would do push-ups and sit ups as strength trainingbut no weight lifting). As a matter of fact, I did not start taken weightlifting seriously until the age of 20 I’d say, so I wasted two years not listeningto my coaches and wasting my potential… In another post, I discussed thedifference between marathoner and sprinter.  The issue with me is that I had a very hardtime letting go of jogging daily – when I first started sprints one of my coachtold me to stop jogging so much, but jogging became such a huge part of my lifethat I completely discredited his advice.Many people are very comfortablewith just jogging. This helps them to maintain a steady pace and moderatespeed. However, runners who like to run jog and take their time with theirruns may not have the best time scores for long distance runs or short distanceones. Instead of training like a sprinter I was training like a jogger. I wasnot developing my fast-twitch fibers. I was doing too much LISS and not enoughHIIT. Fast-twitch fibers are essential to sprinters. I had very low “explosivepower” in my legs. I learned the hard way to listen to my coaches.

NOW YOU’RE PROBABLY WONDERING WHYTOO MUCH JOGGING IS BAD FOR SPRINTER

Well for a 100/200 or 300-meterrunner running XC or jogging daily is bad. Not because fast-twitch fibers will convertinto slow-twitch fibers, such as muscles cannot convert into fat and vice versasame applies for muscle fibers – fast twitch fibers can’t convert into slow twitch.However, whatever fiber type breakdown you have can begin to take on thecharacteristics of the type of training you are doing. Run fast fibers getbetter at trying to hand that training. Train slow and you get better atrunning slow for a really long time. I have had discussions with some people whobelieve you can convert fast twitch fibers by about 6%, but this theory needsto be reinforced by research studies… In addition, if your body has a lot of fasttwitch oxidative fibers your training can cause them to look a lot like slowtwitch fibers.A true sprinter will never surpassa marathoner in a marathon and vice versa a true marathoner will never surpassa sprinter in a sprint. Now people will point out some individuals who have hadsuccess in XC were sprinters but the reason you can point to these individualsis because they are rare and special. Understanding this it then leads to thequestion: are these people really sprinters or poorly identified middledistance runners or elite milers?Over the last few years I’ve beentrying to find the right balance of LISS and HIIT. For elite sprinters, I believethat a combination of moderate jogging, fast running/agility training and strength training intoa daily routine can create the perfect recipe for speed and pace improvement. I’mstill trying to figure out the perfect formula…

SOURCES:

Austad,S.N. (2016). Sex Differences in Lifespan. CellMetabolism, Vol 23 (Issue 6), p.1022-1033.

Hirst,K,K. (2017, October 09th). HowFast Can Humans Run? The Physics and Limits of Human Sprinting. Retrievedfrom https://www.thoughtco.com/how-fast-can-humans-run-4152138

Saini,A. (2017). Inferior:how science got women wrong and the new research that’s rewriting the story.Boston: Beacon Press.

Saini,A. (2017, June 11th). Retrieved from https://www.theguardian.com/world/2017/jun/11/the-weaker-sex-science-that-shows-women-are-stronger-than-men

[wineanddinosaur]

We Asked 12 Drinks Pros: What’s the One Tool Every Home Bartender Should Splurge On?

Setting up a bar at home can be intimidating for any blossoming home bartender, particularly those looking to replicate a favorite local cocktail den. The trick is to be prepared: Once you’ve stocked up on the essential spirits and mixers, adding one or two professional bar tools can take your at-home creations to a new and more refined level.

To help transform your bar cart into a full-fledged craft cocktail experience, VinePair asked drinks experts from around the country for their recommendations on the bar gadgets worthy of an investment. Read on to find out what they suggest.

As bars and restaurants continue to navigate the coronavirus pandemic and reopening phases, VinePair asked the bartenders and drinks professionals below to provide a virtual tip jar or fund of their choice. More resources for helping hospitality professionals are available here.

“An overlooked gadget that any aspiring home bartender should splurge on is a microplane [grater]. The first time you grate fresh nutmeg over a Hotel Nacional or fresh cinnamon over a Piña Colada makes you realize how important freshly grated spices are to elevating a drink from good to great.” — Laura Newman, Owner, Queen’s Park, Birmingham, Ala.

Donate: Laura Newman Venmo

“I believe the one gadget the aspiring home bartender needs is a liquid measuring device, also known as a jigger or spirit measure. Many tools we use behind a professional bar can be substituted for other handy, everyday pieces. … But, for accuracy and consistency, a quality jigger is key to make delicious drinks at home for you, your family, and friends. There are many styles of jiggers and Cocktail Kingdom is a great resource for bar tools. A Japanese style jigger (1 ounce/2 ounce) is perfect for home use. … After that, I recommend a really good cocktail recipe book such as ‘Craft of the Cocktail’ by Dale Degroff (a revised edition is coming out in September), ‘A Spot at the Bar’ by Michael Medrusan, and ‘IMBIBE’ by David Wondrich.” — David A. Roth, Head Bartender, Covina, NYC

Donate: The Cushman Concepts Family Fund

“I can’t speak highly enough about my large ice cube mold! You can mix, stir, and measure with many different tools but nothing makes my Negroni feel ‘restaurant-level’ like adding a large rock to my cocktail while I sip at home! It is the finishing touch that elevates many classic cocktails at home and makes that sipping experience feel extra-level!” — Devan Knobloch, General Manager, Likewise Bar & Lounge, Atlanta

Donate: Virtual Tip Jar for Likewise Bar & Lounge Staff

“If I were to splurge on one gadget for the house, I would splurge on a Vitamix Blender. Vitamix makes, hands down, the best blenders, whichever series or model. Whether you are exploring different frozen drinks recipes or are experimenting with different syrups and infusions, a Vitamix is the best gadget for the job. #wouldlovetobesponsored” — Westin Galleymore, Spirits Director, Underbelly Hospitality, Houston

Donate: Westin Galleymore Venmo

“My most splurge-worthy item is the Ashley Nutmeg Grater. They say the devil is in the details, and I wholeheartedly agree! This petite silver-plated grater makes all the difference if you want to impress yourself or a guest when dashing a cocktail or a punch with some nutmeg. It’s worth every penny just as a conversation piece.” — Kenneth McCoy, Chief Creative Officer, The Rum House, NYC

“[A] hand-held metal juicer, the fold-over kind, gets all the things you want — juice and oils, and the occasional sideways squirt in the eye to really wake you up. Good for jobs up to, say, 10 to 12 drinks. Vitamix, a fancy blender that’s awesome for juices, smoothies, simple syrup, popsicles, and more, can handle everything from ginger to ice chips for frozen drinks. Champion Juicer for anything that’s not citrus: veggies, apples, plums, watermelon, pumpkin, cucumber. Ra Chand Juicer, the big tabletop model for citrus … is more useful than the smaller one, and can handle small stuff, too. The knockoff brands will last three to six months, the Ra Chand will last forever. Trust me, I have broken many knockoffs through heavy use, while I have a few Ra Chands that have outlasted the restaurants we bought them for.” — Jeremy Allen, General Manager/Head Bartender, MiniBar, Los Angeles

Donate: MiniBar Staff Tips via Michael Glauser Venmo

“I’d recommend investing in a jigger with markers for 2 ounces, 1.5 ounces, 1 ounce, .75 ounce, .5 ounce, .25 ounce. Many ‘at home’ bar kits don’t come with a jigger that has all these markings, but modern cocktails often call for more precise measurements. Getting measurements precise is crucial to making really tasty and well- balanced cocktails at home, or at the bar. It’s also really important to know to always hold your jigger level, so the pour is accurate, and that you always need to ‘pour to the meniscus.’ This is something us bar managers have preached to our bartenders and trainees for years. If you are pouring a 2-ounce pour, you need to pour until the spirit bubbles around the top of the jigger. Pouring less than that is not a true 2-ounce measurement, as this is a specific property of liquids and how they are measured by volume.” — Stephen Kurpinsky, U.S. Brand Ambassador, Mr Black Cold Brew Coffee Liqueur

Donate: Another Round Another Rally, America’s Table

“My first splurge would be on nice cocktail tins. I like the brand Koriko because their tins have a tight seal, as opposed to the old school Martini shakers you normally see with the strainer attached on the top, which don’t always seal properly. A glass beaker would be my second splurge because it’s the perfect tool for stirring up one or more drinks at a time.” — Michell Boyd, Beverage Manager, Hampton + Hudson, Atlanta

Donate: Hampton + Hudson – Small Business Relief Fund, Relief for Hampton + Hudson STAFF, Michell Boyd on Venmo

“I think anything involving ice is the most important part of any home bar. Ice goes into every single drink you make — outside of neat pours, obviously — so even if it’s just using a quality distilled/filtered water and ice molds, it’s definitely something that shouldn’t be overlooked. Ice controls how cold your cocktails are and how diluted they get during preparation. You might want some cocktails less diluted than others, so whether you are shaking or stirring, having larger solid cubes makes this much easier to control while still keeping the drink very cold. Simply put, larger cubes equal less surface area to melt so, in turn, you can get the liquid colder with less dilution. For example, in an Old Fashioned, larger cubes help you introduce just a small amount of water while still getting the cocktail very cold. In a Whiskey Sour, you don’t want to introduce much water at all when shaking, but you do want to get the drink very chilled, so larger solid cubes help mix and chill the ingredients efficiently. Quality ice machines can be expensive but can be worth the investment when considering how much use you will get out of them.” — Robert Longhurst, Creative Director, Standard Proof Whiskey Co.

“Hamilton Beach Commercial Juice Press. Why do I love this so much? Because it makes juicing easy and effortless. If you’re anything like me, you don’t drink one Daiquiri or Tom Collins at a time; and if you’re someone who is a home bartender you also probably like entertaining friends and family — and I’m sure your friends and family love it when you entertain, especially if you’re the person that’s always making cocktails for them! Fast-forward to making a delicious and simple Gimlet for you and your six friends for dinner: If you’re using one of those hand juicers, you’ll have to cut six to eight limes in half and hand squeeze each one, flexing those forearm muscles and squirting lemon/lime juice in your eye on accident. This press allows you to trim a little off the top/bottom of the citrus and press a whole lemon/lime at a time. It then funnels all your fresh juice into whatever vessel you put under it. The other thing I love about this is the spring-loaded catch for when you pull that juice vessel out — it will automatically move the catch so your juicer isn’t dripping all over your kitchen countertops! This juicer is easy to clean and perfect for anyone who likes making any citrus cocktails at home. … I’ve been using this exact juicer model for almost 11 years and have implemented them into many cocktail programs across the country over the years. This is my ride or die juicer. Plus, it makes squeezing orange juice in the morning so much easier!” — Alex Negranza, Bar Manager, March, Houston

Donate: Alex Negranza Venmo

“The most important tools for a home bartender are a set of jiggers — or small measuring cups — and a set of good shaking tins from a manufacturer like Koriko or Leopold. The basics of bartending are incredibly easy, but the X factor that turns a so-so drink into a great one is a mix of precision and technique, which you can learn from videos online, but which require the right tools. These can be had for a reasonable price from an online store like Cocktail Kingdom, leaving more room in your budget to build out your bar with great liquor. The one advantage home bars have over bar businesses is that they don’t have to worry about cost — if you want to shake that $100 Cognac into a Sidecar, go for it. If you do want to splurge on something that will bring the home bar experience closer to that of a cocktail bar, companies like NewAir now sell miniature ice machines for making crystal-clear ice at home. Note that with a little time and effort, you can make your own clear ice with little more than a baking sheet and a stovetop — again leaving more money in your budget for top-shelf booze.” — Rafa García Febles, Beverage Manager, Le Crocodile, Brooklyn

“If there’s one piece of kit an aspiring home bartender should splurge on, I recommend a high-quality juice extractor such as the Breville JE98XL Juice Fountain Plus (or the 800JEXL Juice Fountain Elite). A juice extractor is designed to extract juice from fruits and vegetables such as pineapples, ginger, chili peppers, watermelon, celery, etc. An immersion circulator such as the Breville Joule [is used] for more advanced applications, such as tincturing and infusion work. An immersion circulator produces faster and more even results with precision temperature control when infusing into spirits. It also comes with the added benefit of [technical] support with the ChefSteps app, and has a multitude of uses in the kitchen.” — Chad Soloman, Director of Trade Advocacy and Innovation, Cooper Spirits

The article We Asked 12 Drinks Pros: What’s the One Tool Every Home Bartender Should Splurge On? appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/12-best-home-bartender-tools/

[isaiahrippinus]

We Asked 12 Drinks Pros: What’s the One Tool Every Home Bartender Should Splurge On?

Setting up a bar at home can be intimidating for any blossoming home bartender, particularly those looking to replicate a favorite local cocktail den. The trick is to be prepared: Once you’ve stocked up on the essential spirits and mixers, adding one or two professional bar tools can take your at-home creations to a new and more refined level.

To help transform your bar cart into a full-fledged craft cocktail experience, VinePair asked drinks experts from around the country for their recommendations on the bar gadgets worthy of an investment. Read on to find out what they suggest.

As bars and restaurants continue to navigate the coronavirus pandemic and reopening phases, VinePair asked the bartenders and drinks professionals below to provide a virtual tip jar or fund of their choice. More resources for helping hospitality professionals are available here.

“An overlooked gadget that any aspiring home bartender should splurge on is a microplane [grater]. The first time you grate fresh nutmeg over a Hotel Nacional or fresh cinnamon over a Piña Colada makes you realize how important freshly grated spices are to elevating a drink from good to great.” — Laura Newman, Owner, Queen’s Park, Birmingham, Ala.

Donate: Laura Newman Venmo

“I believe the one gadget the aspiring home bartender needs is a liquid measuring device, also known as a jigger or spirit measure. Many tools we use behind a professional bar can be substituted for other handy, everyday pieces. … But, for accuracy and consistency, a quality jigger is key to make delicious drinks at home for you, your family, and friends. There are many styles of jiggers and Cocktail Kingdom is a great resource for bar tools. A Japanese style jigger (1 ounce/2 ounce) is perfect for home use. … After that, I recommend a really good cocktail recipe book such as ‘Craft of the Cocktail’ by Dale Degroff (a revised edition is coming out in September), ‘A Spot at the Bar’ by Michael Medrusan, and ‘IMBIBE’ by David Wondrich.” — David A. Roth, Head Bartender, Covina, NYC

Donate: The Cushman Concepts Family Fund

“I can’t speak highly enough about my large ice cube mold! You can mix, stir, and measure with many different tools but nothing makes my Negroni feel ‘restaurant-level’ like adding a large rock to my cocktail while I sip at home! It is the finishing touch that elevates many classic cocktails at home and makes that sipping experience feel extra-level!” — Devan Knobloch, General Manager, Likewise Bar & Lounge, Atlanta

Donate: Virtual Tip Jar for Likewise Bar & Lounge Staff

“If I were to splurge on one gadget for the house, I would splurge on a Vitamix Blender. Vitamix makes, hands down, the best blenders, whichever series or model. Whether you are exploring different frozen drinks recipes or are experimenting with different syrups and infusions, a Vitamix is the best gadget for the job. #wouldlovetobesponsored” — Westin Galleymore, Spirits Director, Underbelly Hospitality, Houston

Donate: Westin Galleymore Venmo

“My most splurge-worthy item is the Ashley Nutmeg Grater. They say the devil is in the details, and I wholeheartedly agree! This petite silver-plated grater makes all the difference if you want to impress yourself or a guest when dashing a cocktail or a punch with some nutmeg. It’s worth every penny just as a conversation piece.” — Kenneth McCoy, Chief Creative Officer, The Rum House, NYC

“[A] hand-held metal juicer, the fold-over kind, gets all the things you want — juice and oils, and the occasional sideways squirt in the eye to really wake you up. Good for jobs up to, say, 10 to 12 drinks. Vitamix, a fancy blender that’s awesome for juices, smoothies, simple syrup, popsicles, and more, can handle everything from ginger to ice chips for frozen drinks. Champion Juicer for anything that’s not citrus: veggies, apples, plums, watermelon, pumpkin, cucumber. Ra Chand Juicer, the big tabletop model for citrus … is more useful than the smaller one, and can handle small stuff, too. The knockoff brands will last three to six months, the Ra Chand will last forever. Trust me, I have broken many knockoffs through heavy use, while I have a few Ra Chands that have outlasted the restaurants we bought them for.” — Jeremy Allen, General Manager/Head Bartender, MiniBar, Los Angeles

Donate: MiniBar Staff Tips via Michael Glauser Venmo

“I’d recommend investing in a jigger with markers for 2 ounces, 1.5 ounces, 1 ounce, .75 ounce, .5 ounce, .25 ounce. Many ‘at home’ bar kits don’t come with a jigger that has all these markings, but modern cocktails often call for more precise measurements. Getting measurements precise is crucial to making really tasty and well- balanced cocktails at home, or at the bar. It’s also really important to know to always hold your jigger level, so the pour is accurate, and that you always need to ‘pour to the meniscus.’ This is something us bar managers have preached to our bartenders and trainees for years. If you are pouring a 2-ounce pour, you need to pour until the spirit bubbles around the top of the jigger. Pouring less than that is not a true 2-ounce measurement, as this is a specific property of liquids and how they are measured by volume.” — Stephen Kurpinsky, U.S. Brand Ambassador, Mr Black Cold Brew Coffee Liqueur

Donate: Another Round Another Rally, America’s Table

“My first splurge would be on nice cocktail tins. I like the brand Koriko because their tins have a tight seal, as opposed to the old school Martini shakers you normally see with the strainer attached on the top, which don’t always seal properly. A glass beaker would be my second splurge because it’s the perfect tool for stirring up one or more drinks at a time.” — Michell Boyd, Beverage Manager, Hampton + Hudson, Atlanta

Donate: Hampton + Hudson – Small Business Relief Fund, Relief for Hampton + Hudson STAFF, Michell Boyd on Venmo

“I think anything involving ice is the most important part of any home bar. Ice goes into every single drink you make — outside of neat pours, obviously — so even if it’s just using a quality distilled/filtered water and ice molds, it’s definitely something that shouldn’t be overlooked. Ice controls how cold your cocktails are and how diluted they get during preparation. You might want some cocktails less diluted than others, so whether you are shaking or stirring, having larger solid cubes makes this much easier to control while still keeping the drink very cold. Simply put, larger cubes equal less surface area to melt so, in turn, you can get the liquid colder with less dilution. For example, in an Old Fashioned, larger cubes help you introduce just a small amount of water while still getting the cocktail very cold. In a Whiskey Sour, you don’t want to introduce much water at all when shaking, but you do want to get the drink very chilled, so larger solid cubes help mix and chill the ingredients efficiently. Quality ice machines can be expensive but can be worth the investment when considering how much use you will get out of them.” — Robert Longhurst, Creative Director, Standard Proof Whiskey Co.

“Hamilton Beach Commercial Juice Press. Why do I love this so much? Because it makes juicing easy and effortless. If you’re anything like me, you don’t drink one Daiquiri or Tom Collins at a time; and if you’re someone who is a home bartender you also probably like entertaining friends and family — and I’m sure your friends and family love it when you entertain, especially if you’re the person that’s always making cocktails for them! Fast-forward to making a delicious and simple Gimlet for you and your six friends for dinner: If you’re using one of those hand juicers, you’ll have to cut six to eight limes in half and hand squeeze each one, flexing those forearm muscles and squirting lemon/lime juice in your eye on accident. This press allows you to trim a little off the top/bottom of the citrus and press a whole lemon/lime at a time. It then funnels all your fresh juice into whatever vessel you put under it. The other thing I love about this is the spring-loaded catch for when you pull that juice vessel out — it will automatically move the catch so your juicer isn’t dripping all over your kitchen countertops! This juicer is easy to clean and perfect for anyone who likes making any citrus cocktails at home. … I’ve been using this exact juicer model for almost 11 years and have implemented them into many cocktail programs across the country over the years. This is my ride or die juicer. Plus, it makes squeezing orange juice in the morning so much easier!” — Alex Negranza, Bar Manager, March, Houston

Donate: Alex Negranza Venmo

“The most important tools for a home bartender are a set of jiggers — or small measuring cups — and a set of good shaking tins from a manufacturer like Koriko or Leopold. The basics of bartending are incredibly easy, but the X factor that turns a so-so drink into a great one is a mix of precision and technique, which you can learn from videos online, but which require the right tools. These can be had for a reasonable price from an online store like Cocktail Kingdom, leaving more room in your budget to build out your bar with great liquor. The one advantage home bars have over bar businesses is that they don’t have to worry about cost — if you want to shake that $100 Cognac into a Sidecar, go for it. If you do want to splurge on something that will bring the home bar experience closer to that of a cocktail bar, companies like NewAir now sell miniature ice machines for making crystal-clear ice at home. Note that with a little time and effort, you can make your own clear ice with little more than a baking sheet and a stovetop — again leaving more money in your budget for top-shelf booze.” — Rafa García Febles, Beverage Manager, Le Crocodile, Brooklyn

“If there’s one piece of kit an aspiring home bartender should splurge on, I recommend a high-quality juice extractor such as the Breville JE98XL Juice Fountain Plus (or the 800JEXL Juice Fountain Elite). A juice extractor is designed to extract juice from fruits and vegetables such as pineapples, ginger, chili peppers, watermelon, celery, etc. An immersion circulator such as the Breville Joule [is used] for more advanced applications, such as tincturing and infusion work. An immersion circulator produces faster and more even results with precision temperature control when infusing into spirits. It also comes with the added benefit of [technical] support with the ChefSteps app, and has a multitude of uses in the kitchen.” — Chad Soloman, Director of Trade Advocacy and Innovation, Cooper Spirits

The article We Asked 12 Drinks Pros: What’s the One Tool Every Home Bartender Should Splurge On? appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/12-best-home-bartender-tools/ source https://vinology1.tumblr.com/post/623088238266056704

[johnboothus]

We Asked 12 Drinks Pros: Whats the One Tool Every Home Bartender Should Splurge On?

Setting up a bar at home can be intimidating for any blossoming home bartender, particularly those looking to replicate a favorite local cocktail den. The trick is to be prepared: Once you’ve stocked up on the essential spirits and mixers, adding one or two professional bar tools can take your at-home creations to a new and more refined level.

To help transform your bar cart into a full-fledged craft cocktail experience, VinePair asked drinks experts from around the country for their recommendations on the bar gadgets worthy of an investment. Read on to find out what they suggest.

As bars and restaurants continue to navigate the coronavirus pandemic and reopening phases, VinePair asked the bartenders and drinks professionals below to provide a virtual tip jar or fund of their choice. More resources for helping hospitality professionals are available here.

“An overlooked gadget that any aspiring home bartender should splurge on is a microplane [grater]. The first time you grate fresh nutmeg over a Hotel Nacional or fresh cinnamon over a Piña Colada makes you realize how important freshly grated spices are to elevating a drink from good to great.” — Laura Newman, Owner, Queen’s Park, Birmingham, Ala.

Donate: Laura Newman Venmo

“I believe the one gadget the aspiring home bartender needs is a liquid measuring device, also known as a jigger or spirit measure. Many tools we use behind a professional bar can be substituted for other handy, everyday pieces. … But, for accuracy and consistency, a quality jigger is key to make delicious drinks at home for you, your family, and friends. There are many styles of jiggers and Cocktail Kingdom is a great resource for bar tools. A Japanese style jigger (1 ounce/2 ounce) is perfect for home use. … After that, I recommend a really good cocktail recipe book such as ‘Craft of the Cocktail’ by Dale Degroff (a revised edition is coming out in September), ‘A Spot at the Bar’ by Michael Medrusan, and ‘IMBIBE’ by David Wondrich.” — David A. Roth, Head Bartender, Covina, NYC

Donate: The Cushman Concepts Family Fund

“I can’t speak highly enough about my large ice cube mold! You can mix, stir, and measure with many different tools but nothing makes my Negroni feel ‘restaurant-level’ like adding a large rock to my cocktail while I sip at home! It is the finishing touch that elevates many classic cocktails at home and makes that sipping experience feel extra-level!” — Devan Knobloch, General Manager, Likewise Bar & Lounge, Atlanta

Donate: Virtual Tip Jar for Likewise Bar & Lounge Staff

“If I were to splurge on one gadget for the house, I would splurge on a Vitamix Blender. Vitamix makes, hands down, the best blenders, whichever series or model. Whether you are exploring different frozen drinks recipes or are experimenting with different syrups and infusions, a Vitamix is the best gadget for the job. #wouldlovetobesponsored” — Westin Galleymore, Spirits Director, Underbelly Hospitality, Houston

Donate: Westin Galleymore Venmo

“My most splurge-worthy item is the Ashley Nutmeg Grater. They say the devil is in the details, and I wholeheartedly agree! This petite silver-plated grater makes all the difference if you want to impress yourself or a guest when dashing a cocktail or a punch with some nutmeg. It’s worth every penny just as a conversation piece.” — Kenneth McCoy, Chief Creative Officer, The Rum House, NYC

“[A] hand-held metal juicer, the fold-over kind, gets all the things you want — juice and oils, and the occasional sideways squirt in the eye to really wake you up. Good for jobs up to, say, 10 to 12 drinks. Vitamix, a fancy blender that’s awesome for juices, smoothies, simple syrup, popsicles, and more, can handle everything from ginger to ice chips for frozen drinks. Champion Juicer for anything that’s not citrus: veggies, apples, plums, watermelon, pumpkin, cucumber. Ra Chand Juicer, the big tabletop model for citrus … is more useful than the smaller one, and can handle small stuff, too. The knockoff brands will last three to six months, the Ra Chand will last forever. Trust me, I have broken many knockoffs through heavy use, while I have a few Ra Chands that have outlasted the restaurants we bought them for.” — Jeremy Allen, General Manager/Head Bartender, MiniBar, Los Angeles

Donate: MiniBar Staff Tips via Michael Glauser Venmo

“I’d recommend investing in a jigger with markers for 2 ounces, 1.5 ounces, 1 ounce, .75 ounce, .5 ounce, .25 ounce. Many ‘at home’ bar kits don’t come with a jigger that has all these markings, but modern cocktails often call for more precise measurements. Getting measurements precise is crucial to making really tasty and well- balanced cocktails at home, or at the bar. It’s also really important to know to always hold your jigger level, so the pour is accurate, and that you always need to ‘pour to the meniscus.’ This is something us bar managers have preached to our bartenders and trainees for years. If you are pouring a 2-ounce pour, you need to pour until the spirit bubbles around the top of the jigger. Pouring less than that is not a true 2-ounce measurement, as this is a specific property of liquids and how they are measured by volume.” — Stephen Kurpinsky, U.S. Brand Ambassador, Mr Black Cold Brew Coffee Liqueur

Donate: Another Round Another Rally, America’s Table

“My first splurge would be on nice cocktail tins. I like the brand Koriko because their tins have a tight seal, as opposed to the old school Martini shakers you normally see with the strainer attached on the top, which don’t always seal properly. A glass beaker would be my second splurge because it’s the perfect tool for stirring up one or more drinks at a time.” — Michell Boyd, Beverage Manager, Hampton + Hudson, Atlanta

Donate: Hampton + Hudson – Small Business Relief Fund, Relief for Hampton + Hudson STAFF, Michell Boyd on Venmo

“I think anything involving ice is the most important part of any home bar. Ice goes into every single drink you make — outside of neat pours, obviously — so even if it’s just using a quality distilled/filtered water and ice molds, it’s definitely something that shouldn’t be overlooked. Ice controls how cold your cocktails are and how diluted they get during preparation. You might want some cocktails less diluted than others, so whether you are shaking or stirring, having larger solid cubes makes this much easier to control while still keeping the drink very cold. Simply put, larger cubes equal less surface area to melt so, in turn, you can get the liquid colder with less dilution. For example, in an Old Fashioned, larger cubes help you introduce just a small amount of water while still getting the cocktail very cold. In a Whiskey Sour, you don’t want to introduce much water at all when shaking, but you do want to get the drink very chilled, so larger solid cubes help mix and chill the ingredients efficiently. Quality ice machines can be expensive but can be worth the investment when considering how much use you will get out of them.” — Robert Longhurst, Creative Director, Standard Proof Whiskey Co.

“Hamilton Beach Commercial Juice Press. Why do I love this so much? Because it makes juicing easy and effortless. If you’re anything like me, you don’t drink one Daiquiri or Tom Collins at a time; and if you’re someone who is a home bartender you also probably like entertaining friends and family — and I’m sure your friends and family love it when you entertain, especially if you’re the person that’s always making cocktails for them! Fast-forward to making a delicious and simple Gimlet for you and your six friends for dinner: If you’re using one of those hand juicers, you’ll have to cut six to eight limes in half and hand squeeze each one, flexing those forearm muscles and squirting lemon/lime juice in your eye on accident. This press allows you to trim a little off the top/bottom of the citrus and press a whole lemon/lime at a time. It then funnels all your fresh juice into whatever vessel you put under it. The other thing I love about this is the spring-loaded catch for when you pull that juice vessel out — it will automatically move the catch so your juicer isn’t dripping all over your kitchen countertops! This juicer is easy to clean and perfect for anyone who likes making any citrus cocktails at home. … I’ve been using this exact juicer model for almost 11 years and have implemented them into many cocktail programs across the country over the years. This is my ride or die juicer. Plus, it makes squeezing orange juice in the morning so much easier!” — Alex Negranza, Bar Manager, March, Houston

Donate: Alex Negranza Venmo

“The most important tools for a home bartender are a set of jiggers — or small measuring cups — and a set of good shaking tins from a manufacturer like Koriko or Leopold. The basics of bartending are incredibly easy, but the X factor that turns a so-so drink into a great one is a mix of precision and technique, which you can learn from videos online, but which require the right tools. These can be had for a reasonable price from an online store like Cocktail Kingdom, leaving more room in your budget to build out your bar with great liquor. The one advantage home bars have over bar businesses is that they don’t have to worry about cost — if you want to shake that $100 Cognac into a Sidecar, go for it. If you do want to splurge on something that will bring the home bar experience closer to that of a cocktail bar, companies like NewAir now sell miniature ice machines for making crystal-clear ice at home. Note that with a little time and effort, you can make your own clear ice with little more than a baking sheet and a stovetop — again leaving more money in your budget for top-shelf booze.” — Rafa García Febles, Beverage Manager, Le Crocodile, Brooklyn

“If there’s one piece of kit an aspiring home bartender should splurge on, I recommend a high-quality juice extractor such as the Breville JE98XL Juice Fountain Plus (or the 800JEXL Juice Fountain Elite). A juice extractor is designed to extract juice from fruits and vegetables such as pineapples, ginger, chili peppers, watermelon, celery, etc. An immersion circulator such as the Breville Joule [is used] for more advanced applications, such as tincturing and infusion work. An immersion circulator produces faster and more even results with precision temperature control when infusing into spirits. It also comes with the added benefit of [technical] support with the ChefSteps app, and has a multitude of uses in the kitchen.” — Chad Soloman, Director of Trade Advocacy and Innovation, Cooper Spirits

The article We Asked 12 Drinks Pros: What’s the One Tool Every Home Bartender Should Splurge On? appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/12-best-home-bartender-tools/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/we-asked-12-drinks-pros-whats-the-one-tool-every-home-bartender-should-splurge-on

[bigmountaincat]

Mountain Cat - An Origin Story

My name is Reina Kazuki, and I’m a Macro.

There. I said it.

That’s maybe the first time too.

I know what you’re thinking. How could I be a Macro? Well, it’s true. At 5’3” tall, it’s probably a significant leap of faith to expect anyone to believe that. But I’m lucky in a way. My size fluctuates.

I guess maybe lucky isn’t the right word. Fortunate? Gifted? Those words all have too positive a connotation. See, when I’m calm, or in a relaxed state, I maintain my normal size. 5’3”, 119 pounds. Pretty unassuming when you get right down to it.

But when I get excited or startled? Well, all bets are off at that point.

It wasn’t always this way. I wasn’t born a Macro like most others, and I certainly didn’t develop that power during puberty or anything like that.

No, I got this ability completely by accident.

And I don’t mean a lab accident. I mean, I’m pretty smart, but certainly not smart enough to be in a lab. Actually, when this all started, I was just starting my first job out of college. A secretary, because of course.

In college, I was a Journalism major. I wanted to get out, see the world, and share my experiences with everyone. Unfortunately, I’ve always lacked the… personality for the line of work I wanted. I’ve been pretty small my whole life. Petite, quiet, and physically not very attractive, I’m pretty much the poster child for poor self-esteem. Us Yamapikaryas aren’t naturally very attractive, what with the round faces and standard assortment of brown colors, and I was pretty bland even by those standards. So obviously, Journalism really had no place for me.

And of course, because it was college, people took every opportunity to point it out to me.

Especially Bridget.

Bridget Langford. 5’11”, 155 pound bunny girl, and every college boy’s wet dream. She was a bombshell, and everyone in school knew it. And she knew it. She took every opportunity to take advantage of her looks and her body. The lengths to which she would go just to get ahead were astounding. She offered herself to anyone who would take her as long as she got something out of it. At one point, she was sleeping with 5 members of the football team, including the team captain, and still had time to give the chess club lap dances in exchange for getting her homework done for her.

They say there’s one in every group of people, and Bridget was the epitome of the Alpha Female.

Which obviously meant she had it out for me.

Since day one of our Freshman year, Bridget took every opportunity to make fun of me. Back then, I was maybe 100 pounds soaking wet. I was a late bloomer, and I was still growing into my body. I had no chest to speak of, and I was just pushing past 5’2”.

Bridget on the other hand was already flaunting her knockout body. She wore the absolute tightest clothing she could find, made sure as much fur was showing as possible, and never missed the chance to flash some cleavage. One of her favorite pastimes was talking down at me from over her boobs. Everything from “Wow, Reina, didn’t see you down there!” to “Gosh, if you were just a little taller, we might be able to hear what you were saying!” and even “Sorry, Reina. I know my boobs are blocking out the sun down there. We’ll buy you a tiny tanning booth to make up for it.”

None of these insults were all that clever or creative, but when you hear them enough, they start to hurt. It didn’t help that literally everyone in the department enjoyed her jokes. Even the professors couldn’t hide their smirks and chuckles at her word-vomit insults.

When we graduated, I managed to achieve Magna Cum Laude, but of course, as she was the more popular one, our Salutatorian Bridget was the one to speak at the Commencement ceremony. Truthfully, I was thankful for that; public speaking was still difficult for me, and I really couldn’t have wanted to speak in front of 600 people any less.

And after that day, I thought I was free. Done with all the bigotry, and all the mocking, and all the Bridget. I was ready to move on with my life and pursue my dream of becoming a travel writer.

Which meant getting a job at the local columnist and moving my way up from the bottom. Because Magna cum Laude really just means “the most qualified of the least experienced.” But, after an awkward initial interview and a successful one, I was hired.

And because life is hell, so was Bridget.

The worst thing about this situation wasn’t just that we were working in the same place. It’s that Bridget was hired as a field intern, and I was hired as a secretary.

Yup. Secretary. The best use of my degree that the Harrington Tribune could offer. Meanwhile, Bridget went out on shoots, breaking news reports, and even sat in on a few private city council meetings in place of her mentor when he came down with a terrible flu.

Working in that place was infuriating. But because I’m me, it was an anger I kept to myself. Even when Bridget’s oh-so-clever insults returned, and the entire office joined her in a new posse of never-ending ridicule, I kept telling myself that it was all on the way to achieving my dream. I had taken every step I needed to; I’d moved away from home, I’d earned my degree, and I was working in the field. Sure, I wasn’t an intern, which meant I wasn’t actually working the stories, but I had my own little space, and I was making connections. Even if they weren’t bearing fruit right away, I was going to make it.

But Bridget had other plans.

Somehow, despite my timidity and, shall we say, extreme inexperience, I attracted the eye of one Roger Beaument. Roger was another intern at the Tribune, a rough-around-the-edges German Shepard with all the appeal you would expect from a young dog making waves in the reporting world. He, like Bridget, was on the fast track to success, working hand-in-hand with the Tribune’s most famous and experienced reporter. And because Mr. Florentine was so famous, his intern was constantly sent on errands to grab information and set up appointments. Which meant Roger spent a lot of time at my desk. At first, it didn’t seem like Roger really noticed me. Like everyone else in the office, he came to my desk with a task, and left once it was completed. But slowly, he started lingering a bit more. He would start conversations, asking my opinion on articles, getting me to weigh in on a current affairs topic, and he once even submitted a story idea I had to Mr. Florentine, who covered it and dropped my name in the story as an “acknowledged informant” (*SQUEE*)! Eventually, Roger asked me out. It was an exceptionally embarrassing event. It took me almost 30 seconds to get over my surprise, shock, self-doubt, and second thoughts before I finally agreed amidst cheers and whooping from all around. Apparently everyone in the office knew he was going to do it. Everyone except Bridget. The blonde bunny bimbo had had her eyes on Roger for quite some time. He was about the only person in the office who wasn’t eating off her paw, and she yearned for his attention. Trouble was, Roger wanted nothing to do with her, and everything to do with me. We went out on a few dates, nothing too spectacular, until one night, Roger took me back to his place. I thought it was a nice opportunity to see who he was outside the office and who I saw when we were out and about. I was extremely honored that he would invite me into his own private, personal space. I had absolutely no notion that he had anything more… active in mind. In fact, apparently Roger thought I knew what going back to his place meant. He started making his move, and I… well, I panicked. Sure we’d kissed before, but anything more than that? I was definitely not ready. Now, in his defense, Roger was a gentleman about it. He didn’t try to push me into something I wasn’t ready for, never used sex as any kind of veiled threat or anything of that sort. But I could tell immediately he was disappointed. The night ended awkwardly when he took me home, and the next day, he certainly wasn’t himself. He was normally pretty active in finding reasons to come see me at my desk, but that day it was like he was avoiding me. And, as you can probably guess, that affected me too. And, as I’m sure it goes without saying, Bridget took notice. She had never been more belligerent towards me than she was that day. Gone were the days of her silly insults that still managed to hurt. Now I was “The Bitch,” and “That Slut,” and “The Cat Whore.” She intentionally spilled a cup of coffee on an interview I had been transcribing for hours, forcing me to start all over again. As a result, I was at the office 3 hours later than normal. Which meant I missed Roger after work. Which meant I went home alone, and feeling rather dejected. You can imagine my surprise when I arrived at my apartment and saw a note taped to my door. Roger was the only person I could think of that knew where I lived, so I thought it was from him. The handwritten note was, however, from someone whose words immediately filled me with dread. “You missed your chance, Staina,” the note read. “Your loss is my gain. -B” There was only one person who ever called me that name. In a panic, I ran out of the complex and headed back downtown. I didn’t even bother waiting for a cab. I ran all of 26 blocks to Roger’s place. As I pounded down the streets, a sickly cold came to my skin. It was as if all the people Bridget had helped herself to back in college were floating through my head, whispering about how they were welcoming another slave into their ranks. As if my own growing dread were not enough to set the scene, the sky chose that moment to open up, pouring water down over the streets below. But I didn’t care about getting a little wet. Rain was an acceptable hazard in this venture. When I approached Roger’s house, the first thing I noticed was Bridget’s car in his driveway. The second thing I noticed was that the only light on in the house was in his bedroom. I felt my heart in my throat as I crept closer, the only sound in the neighborhood my own breathing and gasping for air as I tried to quiet myself. As I reached the base of the window, my own breathing was joined by heavy breathing emanating from the room within. Innocent as I was, I didn’t need to guess what that was. But morbid curiosity and terror forced me to inch upwards and peek over the sill. The blinds were not drawn all the way down on one corner, as if they were closed in a hurry. I pulled my face up over the sill and cursed in the back of my mind. The rainwater that had collected on my glasses was obscuring my view. So I took my glasses off and peered into the room with my naked eyes. And as I scanned the room through that small crack, I caught the clear images of Roger and Bridget. Doing presumably what Roger had intended to do with me. I didn’t need to wait any longer. I stood up and ran, not even bothering to stifle my cries. The rain was probably drowning me out anyway, as hard as it was coming down, and even if it wasn’t, I didn’t care. Looking back on that night, I can say honestly that I was not in love with Roger. But at that point in my life, I thought I was, and that was almost worse. Angry thoughts flooded through my mind, a torrent of blame flowing in every direction. How could I have been so stupid to have turned him down?! If I’d just let him do what he wanted, we’d be happy now! That crap-for-brains slut had absolutely no right to even approach Roger, let alone slide herself on top of him and reduce him to a panting, sex-crazed animal! How dare Roger ditch me so quickly, just because I wasn’t ready to give him my body?! Didn’t he have more respect for me than that!? Before I knew it, I had reached the outskirts of the city, where the buildings of business morphed into buildings of industry. Factory smokestacks and shipping yards surrounded me, mostly lying dormant at this time of night. In my haste to leave the scene of my heartbreak, I had run in the wrong direction. I had just about enough time to realize this before a sound from behind me completely grabbed my attention. The squealing of tires on wet pavement made me turn around. A large tanker truck came barreling down the road, its trailer swerving wildly behind it. It was heading towards me so quickly I could only duck and cover, hoping for the best. And just my luck, the trailer swerved and caught a street lamp, whipping the back end around so quickly the entire truck jackknifed. As it screeched down the pavement, the entire vehicle twisted and flipped on its side. The entire mess twisted around itself as it slid, sending sparks shooting out behind it. It came to a loud, smoking stop mere feet away from me.

It was a number of moments before I could even react. If you've ever experienced a serious accident, then you know the feeling. Your mind tries to make sense of what you've just witnessed. And seeing as how I'd never witnessed such an event, my brain was having exceptional difficulty interpreting what it had just seen. In fact, if the cab were not directly in front of me, things might have played out in a completely different way. But it was. The heavily mutilated tractor portion of the truck sat on its side a few feet away from me. Through the front window, which was strangely enough still mostly in tact, movement finally snapped my brain out of its shock. A lupine figure inside was waving at me frantically, calling out and trying desperately to get my attention. I realized the sound was being muffled both by the rain and an odd crackling sound coming from the trailer end of the truck. As I said before, I'm a relatively intelligent person. That sound meant fire, the oil tanker’s arch-nemesis. My body began moving before my mind was ready to act. I moved to the passenger side of the trailer and started climbing up the axle. It took some serious effort, as I wasn't exactly in peak physical condition. Once I got to the actual passenger door, about 10 feet up in the air, I realized the door couldn't be opened. I motioned to the wolf inside to shield his eyes. Then I used my heel to kick in the window. After quickly clearing the frame of glass as best I could, I jumped inside, catching myself on the dashboard so I didn't fall directly on the person I was trying to help. Both my tail and my right arm just below the shoulder caught stray shards of glass on the way in, but the adrenaline running through my body kept me from noticing it. “Please!” the wolf pleaded. “You gotta get me outta here!” He was wedged into the space between the door and the steering column and held in place by his seatbelt. It looked like he was having difficulty moving. Carefully, I eased myself down to the seatbelt buckle. “Hang on,” I said gently, “I’m going to release your seatbelt.” As I moved closer, he groaned loudly. “Are you okay?” “Erg, yeah. I think so. I can’t move my legs, though.” Those were words I was dreading to hear. I knew I wasn’t strong enough to pull him up through the cab and out the window. Which meant my only options were to push him, or leave him. And I wasn’t going to leave him. “Alright, this isn’t going to be easy. I’m going to have to push you out. It’s probably going to hurt a lot, and I’m going to need your help. I’m not strong enough to do it myself.” The wolf was clearly unhappy with the idea, but he whimpered his understanding. I took a deep breath, and readied myself to catch him when I released the buckle. “One,” I counted. He nodded at me. “Two.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Three!” I pressed the button and brought my hands to grab his shoulder. As I expected, he hit his head on the window next to him as his body slid down the bench towards the ground. I was able to pull the force of the blow back a little bit, but his weight actually pulled me further down as well. I ended up splayed across his steering column hovering just above him. He let out a hiss of pain. “Okay!” I called out, trying to keep him conscious and responsive, “Okay! Stay with me. I need you to push yourself up a little so I can get under you and push you up.” “Yeah.. yeah I can do that.” He let out a low growl as he shifted around, trying to get his legs unwedged from under the steering wheel. He moved just enough to create some space between himself and the column. “Hold on! Right there. I can squeeze into that space there!” For once, I was grateful I was my height. I was able to slide over the top of the steering wheel housing and drop down on the other side, in between the door and the bench. The wolf had managed to pull himself out of the collapsed portion of the cab, but his legs were… not good. They were limp and mangled, in absolutely no condition to even be attempting what we were doing. But we had to get him out. “Okay,” I said, “I’m going to slide your legs around the last bit here, and then I need you to start pulling yourself towards the door. I’ll push as best I can. This is definitely going to hurt, so brace yourself.” I waited a brief moment for a response, and when I didn’t get one, I prodded him with a forceful “UNDERSTAND?!” That seemed to snap him out of his daze long enough to nod a response. “Okay,” I said, “here we go!” I turned my attention towards maneuvering his feet. There was next to no tension in either limb, indicating a severe amount of damage to the muscles and ligaments. I also heard soft cracking as I moved them. I was probably breaking them more just trying to get him out. Once his feet were clear of the wheel, I turned my shoulders to his hip and put my feet on the driver side door frame. “Start pulling!” I called over my shoulder. I started to push with my legs, doing my best to keep my back straight against his weight. A couple seconds later, I felt the weight on my shoulders decrease a little. I think he had found a handhold on the seatbelt above and was using it to pull himself up. As we began to move slowly towards the window above us, the crackling of fire and the patter of rain were joined by another sound, a soft hissing, like water being run through a small hole. An odd, green glow seemed to fill the cab, starting from just below my feet. I looked down to see an iridescent green liquid pooling at the bottom. It was cold as it touched my feet, and I shivered involuntarily. “Something wrong?” came the gruff voice from above. “Not especially,” I called back, grunting a bit from the effort of lifting him. “Just getting a little wet down here. Something’s leaking from somewhere.” “Shit!” the wolf swore. Suddenly, all of the weight I was pushing against disappeared. I suppose in hindsight he probably gave himself a good solid tug. All I know is I suddenly had no counterforce keeping me in place. I popped up a little, lost my footing, slipped, and fell down onto the window beneath me. I landed in about an inch of whatever this green fluid was. The fall wasn’t exceptionally long, but it coupled with my already-waning energy made pulling myself out of quagmire forming at the side of the truck a more arduous task. I wasn’t sure what the liquid was, but at the time, I assumed it was whatever the tanker was carrying, and that it was some sort of fuel. It was all I could hope that it wasn’t the flammable kind. “You okay?!” I heard from above. I looked up and saw the wolf leaning through the window above. ‘Well, he certainly got up there fast,’ I thought. “Yeah,” I replied. “I’m fine.” Just as I said that, I felt a stinging sensation in my tail and right arm. The areas that were cut on glass during my initial descent were sitting in the green liquid, directly exposing my wounds to the fluid. I remember thinking ‘Well that can’t be good.’ Just as I thought that, a bright flash, extreme heat, and a very loud noise all accompanied by immense pain engulfed my senses. All of my perceptions were simultaneously overloaded, and I passed out. When I next was aware of my surroundings, I was in a white room, strapped loosely to a bed, with 4 people clothed in white encircling me.

Waking up in a strange place, surrounded by people you don’t recognize isn’t the most comfortable of situations. What made it all the worse was I was immediately aware of the fact that I was strapped to this table and could not move. My immediate reaction was to start squirming, trying to break the restraints holding me down as panic gripped my mind. If anything, the straps felt tighter against my wrists and ankles. As I struggled, the figures around me began moving agitatedly, a few of them setting down clipboards I hadn’t noticed before and approaching my bedside. “Please, Miss Kazuki, calm yourself!” a surly voice called from my right. “You’re okay! You’re in the hospital after a serious accident. Do you remember the oil tanker?” I stopped struggling as my mind cleared and replayed everything leading up to what was now obviously an explosion. That did let me calm down a little, but I was still very disoriented. I surveyed the room around me more closely. The walls were lined with numerous instruments all beeping and displaying their findings. Findings which I could not make out as I didn’t have my glasses. “Who are you?” I asked the room. My voice was almost non-existent. It wasn’t just the hoarseness that altered my voice; when I spoke, I felt a soft, scratchy fabric move across my face as well. Looking down at the rest of my body, I realized that thick gauze was loosely packed over my entire body. As loose as the wrappings were, I still felt some gauze tight against my flesh. It struck me as odd that I was wrapped so heavily, but I thought little of it as the same doctor responded to my question. “I’m Dr. Freemont. I’m in charge of your recovery. There was an explosion, Miss Kazuki. It was frankly a miracle you survived at all. We’re… honestly a little surprised to see you conscious right now. Your burns were extremely severe, and there have been… complications.” That certainly didn’t sound good. I groaned as a wave of nausea overtook my senses for a moment, then asked what I didn’t want to. “What do you mean, complications?” Dr. Freemont cleared his throat. “Well… we’ve had significant difficulty confirming your vitals. Namely, the data we have on file from your last physical doesn’t match what we’re getting now.” “What… does that mean?” I was already disoriented, but listening to him talk was making things worse. He was talking like a doctor, and I was getting even more lost trying to understand what he was talking about. “That’s just it. We’re not entirely certain. We thought at first there might be an issue with our instrumentation. We tested your blood, looking to see what sort of donors we should be finding, and our tests came back inconclusive.” “B positive,” I croaked out. The straps on my arms still felt way too tight. The fabric of the material felt hot against skin I was starting to realize hurt from the contact. “Again,” he replied, a certain level of hesitation in his voice, “that is what your file says. But we tested your blood to be sure and… well, our instruments can’t identify your blood type at all. We’re receiving data that implies it’s something completely different from anything we’ve ever recorded.” I was quiet for a minute. I was starting to get a headache, both from sheer confusion and the inability to see anything clearly. “I’m not sure I understand… but can I please have my glasses? I can’t see.” The fuzzy figure to my right that I had since associated with belonging to Dr. Freemont shifted oddly. It was a few moments before he said anything else. “Another complication there, I’m afraid. We believe your personal items were destroyed in the explosion. Over the last four days, we’ve -” “Wait… four days?!” “I’m afraid so. You have been unconscious for that long.” I was incredulous. I’m not one for sleeping very long, so the idea of spending that long unconscious was simply unfathomable. The good doctor continued talking, though I was only partially paying attention. “As I was saying, over the last four days, we have tried to obtain numerous glasses in your size, but each new pair doesn’t quite fit. It seems the… measurements keep changing.” Thinking back to the truck and all of the events leading up to the explosion, I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t been there alone. Not really processing what had just been said, I tried to sit up forcefully and immediately regretted it. My wrists caught in the restraints, and I squeaked as the tight straps squeezed against extremely tender flesh. I was able to sit up, though, so I fought through the pain. “The wolf! What happened to the wolf who was driving the truck?!” The fuzzy shape took a step back and raised what must have been his hands. “Miss Kazuki! Please, you must remain calm!” It was nearly impossible for me to be calm in that instant. I was so fraught with worry about the wolf. I never even got his name! “Is he alright?!” I urged. I was hardly paying attention to what was happening at that point. Looking back at it now, I know I heard a couple of pops, and the tension in the straps went slack instantly. The voices of the various shapes behind me began talking excitedly, calling out at each other with commands I’ll never remember. The shape that was Dr. Freemont took another step back. He seemed to almost shrink in on himself when he did that. His out-of-focus form seemed to gesture wildly. “Miss Kazuki, I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to sedate you.” I felt a pair of oddly tiny hands grab my arm, and shortly after, a sharp jab in my forearm. I turned to look… And every train of thought in my mind immediately derailed. That close, it looked like a child’s hands were on my arm, and the needle (which looked quite large in comparison to the hands that were holding it) looked like a small toy. I glanced back down at my body and saw that the bed I was sitting atop was abnormally small. My bandaged feet hung out over the edge, and sitting up I felt the pillow just under my lower back. As silly as it seemed, I was far too large for this bed. Me. Little, tiny, puny me. I also noted that the bandages that once were so loose on my body were tight, and parts of my skin were showing through the spaces in between. Squinting as I looked around the room, every shape seemed absurdly small, like the people were babies and the machinery were all props made for playing house. I felt the sedative began to kick in. It was harder and harder to stay conscious. I turned back to the shape that was Dr. Freemont, now smaller than he was mere seconds ago. “Wha’ happened?” I mumbled out. From somewhere far away, he responded. “We’re trying to figure that out, Miss Kazuki. You were the only one we recovered from the accident, and we don’t know yet what happened to you. But I assure you, I won’t rest until I can find a way to help you.” My head became too heavy to hold up. I fell back onto the bed and felt the whole thing give way under my body. I hardly felt the short drop to the floor, and I remember the cold of the linoleum touching my feet just before I drifted off into the blackness of drug-induced sleep. Since that day, my life has never been the same. That was my first experience with the changes my body had gone through, and it really only got more bizarre after that. Dr. Freemont became my closest friend, and he has helped me in more ways than I can count. I had no idea what was in store for me then, and had I known, I would’ve asked the good doctor to end it before it got out of hand. But the details of all that are for another time. Though this day started me down the path that would become my life, it wasn’t the most important point along that path. The real story started the next time I woke up, when Roger came to visit...

[stacinadia]

The second (very late) gift fic for my 100 followers celebration!

To:@rythik78

Title: Against Destiny

Pairing: IchiRuki

Rating: G

Word Count: 1599

Warnings: None

Also at AO3.

**********

Goku entered the World Between Worlds and let out a sigh of relief as the tension began to leave his body.  He was exhausted after some intense battles that lasted for days and he wanted to relax at the café here before returning home to his wife and children.   

The World Between Worlds was a place that radiated peace and calmness in the midst of a series of worlds where fighting often reigned supreme.  Goku’s home world involved incredibly strong beings from many different planets fighting each other.  He enjoyed fighting more than just about anything, but it was important to rest up, especially if Chichi had chores or something else for him to do when he got home.  

He strode toward the small café and entered.  It was a cheerful place that wasn’t overly bright with about a dozen tables strewn throughout.  Just a couple of tables had people seated at them, talking quietly amongst themselves.  There was one server who was waiting behind the bar for someone to order something.  

Goku instantly recognized the distinctive head of spiky hair on one orange-haired young man sitting slumped at a table tucked away in a corner.  It was that Kurosaki kid, Ichigo, who used a huge sword to fight weird spirit beings with white masks in his home world.  He went over to the kid to go talk to him when he happened to glance up and looked right up at Goku.

He looked absolutely miserable.  His eyes had lost their shine and they were red-rimmed as if he‘d been crying.  The frown on his face looked as if it had been there for a long time.  There were red marks on his face from continuously resting his head on his hands or arms.  Goku had never seen the kid looking like this before.

“Hey, what’s wrong, Ichigo?”  Goku asked, sitting on the stool beside the orange-haired kid.

Ichigo’s head raised up again and he propped it up against one of his hands.  “Oh, hey, Goku,” he muttered, looking away from the older man.

The two sat there in silence for a few minutes, Ichigo looking in a random direction and Goku watching him with concern.

Finally, Ichigo spoke.  “Have you always been happy with your narrative?”

Goku blinked in surprise, then pondered the question.  The narrative was what each person was supposed to do with their lives, and pretty much nobody ever went against their narrative.  And Goku really had a very good life that went along with his desires and personality despite any bad things that may have happened.  “Sure,” he shrugged.  “I mean, I didn’t like that my grandfather died, but overall, I think things have gone pretty good for me!  I even got a wife, even though I didn’t really understand what marriage was at first!”  He laughed with a grin, remembering a young Chichi asking him to marry her when he was older.

Ichigo smiled weakly.  “Well, I used to like my narrative, too, for the most part until I found out I have to marry a girl I don’t want to.  And the wedding is next week.”

Goku tilted his head to the side.  “Why don’t you want to?  Isn‘t the girl nice, someone who would be a good wife?  Is she a bad cook or something?  Can she not fight?”

Ichigo shuddered.  “Yeah, she’s nice, and she’d make someone a good wife, and she protects us when we’re fighting, but I don’t love her,” Ichigo sighed, his head falling into his hands once again.  “There’s… someone else.  Someone I’ve loved for a long time…”  He shook his head.  “It’s just a big mess!”  He pounded a fist on the table, startling Goku.  “Why can’t I marry Rukia?  She‘s the one I have a connection to!”

Goku sat there thinking.  Everyone he’d encountered in his own universe was happy to follow their narrative, even if it ended in their demise, because they were being true to themselves.  In other worlds, could it be possible that there were narratives that didn’t make sense?  What would he have done if he truly didn’t want to marry Chichi and live with her and their children?  He couldn’t even imagine it.

“I don’t think anyone ever went against their narrative in my world,” Goku said thoughtfully.  “But if anyone had a narrative that went against everything they believed, I’d say they should fight it!  Everyone‘s narrative should follow their beliefs, even if it turns out badly.”  He put a hand on Ichigo’s shoulder.  “You should be true to yourself, Ichigo,” he said with a  nod.

The kid sat there staring openmouthed  at Goku for a few moments, then his eyes lit up and a grin appeared on his face.  “You’re right, Goku!  I’m going to be true to myself and marry the girl I love!”  He immediately got up and rushed out of the café and presumably went back to his own world.

Goku closed his eyes and smiled.  He was glad he could help out.  Now it was time to think about what he was going to order…

**********

Ichigo felt invigorated after his discussion with Goku.  Everyone should agree with their narrative, their destiny, and he most certainly didn’t.  He was going to be true to himself and make his own destiny, like Goku had said.  With a new hope building in him, he rushed back to his own world.

The first place Ichigo went to was Orihime’s small apartment.  He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

Orihime opened the door wearing an apron.  “Ichigo!” she beamed.  “I wasn’t expecting you today!  Come on in!”  She waved him inside.  “I was just making some red bean paste sandwiches!  Would you like some?”

Ichigo remained in the doorway, though.  “Orihime…”

“What is it, Ichigo?”  she asked, concerned.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then decided to just blurt it out.  “I’m sorry, Orihime, but I can’t marry you.  I care about you, and you’re my friend, but there is someone else who I love, and I need to marry her.”

When he opened his eyes again, Orihime’s head was bowed, her long hair cascading over her shoulders.  “Orihime?”  he asked hesitantly, unsure if he should touch her.

Finally, Orihime raised her head, revealing the tears streaking down her cheeks.  “It’s Rukia, isn’t it?”  she asked quietly.  “I was always jealous of the looks you gave her.  She was always more important to you than I was, wasn’t she?”  Her voice didn’t break once.

“Yes,” he admitted, feeling lighter and more confident every time he said it.  

There was silence for a few moments, then Orihime said so softly that Ichigo almost didn’t hear her, “You should go to her.”

“Orihime?”

“You love Rukia, so you should go and be with her,” Orihime said, her voice a bit stronger.  She gave a small smile through her tears.  “Don’t worry about me.  I’ll be okay.  I think I’ll call Tatsuki and see if she can hang out with me.”

Ichigo nodded.  “Thanks, Orihime!”  And with that, he ran off towards Urahara’s shop.

He never heard the soft sobs coming from Orihime’s apartment.

**********

After pretty much demanding that Urahara open a Senkaimon for him to get to Soul Society immediately, Ichigo stood where the Senkaimon had dropped him off in Seireitei, realizing that he had no idea where Rukia was.  She could be in the Thirteenth Division, at Kuchiki Manor, or just walking around somewhere.  He wished that he was better at sensing reiatsu so he could locate her.  He decided it was best to just flash step around Seireitei in the hopes of running into her.

It wasn‘t long before he spotted her standing under a tree in the Thirteenth Division.  “Rukia,” he said as he came to a stop in front of her, sagging in relief.

Rukia looked up at him in surprise.  “Ichigo, what are you doing here?  There was nothing for you to be summoned here for as far as I know.”

Ichigo shook his head.  “I had to come see you.  I got Urahara to open a Senkaimon for me.”

“Well, what is it you wanted to see me about?”  Rukia asked, nudging Ichigo in the side with her elbow, an expectant look upon her face.

Ichigo dropped to his knees so that he was at eye-level with Rukia.  “Rukia,” he said, taking her hands in his.

Rukia slapped his hands away as a pretty blush appeared on her cheeks.  “Ichigo, what are you doing, you idiot?” she hissed.  “You’re about to marry Orihime in a week!”  She backed away from Ichigo, her shoulders slumped.

The orange-haired boy merely shook his head.  “No, I’m not.  I told her I didn’t want to marry her.  I want to marry someone else, if she’d have me.”  He stood and slowly approached Rukia again, then gently took her hand.

“Are…  are you serious?”  the petite shinigami sputtered, her violet eyes widening.  “But…  that’s not our narrative,” she whispered, biting her lip as she looked down at their joined hands.

“No, it’s not,” Ichigo agreed.  “But our narratives shouldn’t make us unhappy.  I talked to someone today who taught me that.”  He looked into Rukia’s eyes with all the feelings he held for her.  “If our destiny makes us unhappy, then we should make our own destiny.  And I want to make my destiny with you, Rukia Kuchiki.”

Rukia’s eyes shone with unshed tears.  “Ichigo, you idiot,” she said fondly, a smile growing on her face.  “Well, come on and kiss me!”

And he did.

[rosecorcoranwrites]

Why it’s not okay to be okay with punching Nazis: PART 3 – Free Speech

This is the last part I promise XD Then it’s off to fun happy book things :D

3) Free speech, or, “ideas cannot hurt you”

So I’ve already discussed the idea of mob mentality taking over and the idea that what constitutes a "unacceptable” ideology might very well include those ideas we hold as normal today, so normalizing the idea of harming people for having unpopular opinions is dangerous, but what if we could guarantee that only Nazis will be punched, not people mistaken for being Nazis, not people with other ideas. What is we could 100% guarantee that Nazis, and only Nazis, were the ones being punched.

You still shouldn’t hurt people for the ideas, because their ideas are not actually hurting you.

“But Nazism was responsible for not only 11 million people in the Holocaust, but also arguably, all the other fatalities of WWII, at least in the European Theater,” I here you say, and that is true. But to be perfectly fair, one could make the same arguments, with much higher death tolls, about Communism/Marxism. I even think that because of its subtlety and its basis in solving real economic problems, Communism/Marxism is actually more pernicious than the in-your-face Nazism, but you don’t see me jumping up to punch Marxists. Why? Because a single person holding an idea, no matter how dangerous of an idea, is not harming anyone.

I’m of the school of thought, the one currently in vogue in American law, by the by, that one should only harm another person in self-defense/defense of others, and only when the threat is imminent. If a Nazi is about to hurt an actual, real, live person, you bet I would support punching them. I’d do it myself! If I know that he’s planning some sort of violence, I’ll do the smart thing and call the police. And if a Nazi says something like, “I’m glad the Holocaust happened,” I’ll be repulsed and call him on it, but I wouldn’t punch him.

Because as ugly as his words are, as hideous as his ideas are, as much as I hate them and think that they are 100% wrong, they are still just ideas, which are oddly powerful, while at the same time, powerless. This idea, I think, fits in with how we interpret the First Amendment to the US Constitution:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

Why are those the first few rights we talk about? Surely rights that prevent bodily distress, like being free from cruel and unusual punishment or search and seizure are more important, right? Well, I think it’s because you can’t really have a free society without freedom of the speech and religion. In fact, you can’t have a free person without free speech and religion. “Religion” or beliefs and philosophies are essentially the inner-most thoughts of a person, how they view the metaphysical/spiritual world, and their place in it, while “speech” is how they express those thoughts. To curtail that is not just to try and control a person’s action, but a person’s very being. A person’s beliefs affect every aspect of their life, from how they vote to what they eat to what they consider right and wrong. The government should never be allowed to tell you what you can and cannot think, and cannot prevent you from speaking about those beliefs. Furthermore, no one ought to live in fear of violence for holding a certain view.

And yet, as important as the First Amendment is, I would say it is probably the most hotly contested today, because people say they believe in free speech and religion… but only as far as they agree with those beliefs.

Let’s take religion, and then bring it around to speech. In recent years, there has been massive government, business, and social pressure on various religious groups and individuals to in one way or another violate their beliefs. From trying to force Catholic nurses to aid in abortions to forcing Jehovah’s Witness kids to say to pledge to denying Muslims the right to wear the veil or pray in public, our society, both in America and Europe, has a real interest in policing the lives of religious people. When these infringements upon religious rights happen, rational people rightly point out, respectively, that you wouldn’t force a Muslim to eat pork, wouldn’t force a Christian kid to pray to a pagan god, and wouldn’t deny a Jewish person the right to wear a yarmulka, so you don’t have a right to infringe on this other group’s similar religious beliefs. Generally, we can all agree on that, more or less.

But what about unpopular religions, like Satanism? People often get upset when Satanists perform rituals or construct displays, but the thing is, if we curtail their rights, then we ought to curtail the rights of all religious groups. Now I personally find Satanists rather silly, largely because most of them will admit that they don’t actually worship Satan, but like the ideas he represents, like rejection of authority and organized religion. Why that translates into a three-edgy-five-me Unitarianesque diabolism and not, say, sleeping in on Sunday mornings, is anyone’s guess. But I digress: most Satanists seem to be in it for purely aesthetic purposes, like “Catholics” who don’t agree with anything the Church teaches, but Love the RitualTM. But let’s say that there are certain real diabolists out there who do worship Satan and do dark rituals to summon his power. M’kay. I actually believe in demonic powers, and do believe such people are putting their own souls at risk, but I can’t stop them from believing that Satan is the bee’s knees. As long as they aren’t hurting people, sacrificing pets, or stealing consecrated Hosts, then they have every right to their practice of religion. Again, if they could actually curse you, yeah, we would have a bone to pick, legally, with such a religion. But we all know they can’t, and they aren’t hurting anyone by constructing goat statues or placing pentagrams next to crèches during Advent. They have as much right to their belief system as any Christian, atheist, Muslim, pagan, etc.

The same is true of speech. Even if the ideas are dangerous—like selling your soul to Satan or thinking your race is superior—so long as the person isn’t acting on those ideas in such a way as to actually harm someone, they have a right to speak freely without fear of violent repercussions. If they start stealing property from churches for their rituals, or destroy Jewish storefronts, or burn crosses on people’s lawns, then you can get the law involved and sue the freaking pants off them or throw them in jail. Again, if they physically attack you or someone near you, you are obviously in your rights to fight back, the same as you would against anyone who is attacking you for any reason. If you know they are plotting to harm a group of people, again, call the cops. In the grand scheme of things, though, punching Nazis because they’re Nazis really isn’t going to solve anything. It’s not gonna make them suddenly not be Nazis anymore. All it does is make you into the sort of person who thinks that it’s okay to assault certain people for their beliefs and the things they say, which… is actually really dangerous, as I hope I’ve shown in Parts 1 and 2 of this post.

Knowing that a Nazi is walking the streets, free and unpunched, probably isn’t going to make you feel very good. It might make you angry, or even scared. But the same could be said of having sex-offenders out on parole. Knowing they live in your neighborhood would make you justifiably angry and scared, but last I checked, it’s still illegal to assault a sex-offender who isn’t committing a crime. That person’s actions scarred someone irreparably, just like how the Nazi’s ideology was responsible for millions of deaths. But at the moment, all they are doing is existing and believing things. What gives you a right to stop them from doing that? What gives you a right to police the thoughts and ideas of others? Nazism is truly a dangerous thing, but other equally-dangerous ideologies have come and gone and come again, and many of those begin with the idea that all speech should be protected, but some should be protected more than others.

I don’t think it’s okay to punch Nazis. And I don’t think it’s okay for people to be okay with punching Nazis. I think it’s giving in to a mentality that can lead to more and more acts of violence against a larger and larger group of other-ed “thems”: Nazis, Trump supports, people who kinda seem to be Nazis or Trump supports, people who we can write off as irrational instead of trying to reason with. I don’t think that this sort of violence-espousing mentality will lead to anything good. But for now it’s just an idea, and I hope in these three little essays that I might have changed someone’s mind.

Part 1: Mob Mentality

Part 2: Unpopular Ideologies

[jonathanbelloblog]

Classic Drive: 1988 Lamborghini Countach 5000 QV

High school sucked. So, was there a better way to arrive at my 30-year-reunion than in a 1988 Lamborghini Countach 5000 QV? Didn’t think so. Southern California restaurateur David Houston was gracious enough to lend me his ’80s icon, so I, the semi-known weirdo girl whose best friend went to another school, finally had a reasonable shot at being cool!

The Lamborghini Countach, originally designed by Marcello Gandini while at Bertone ( who was also the youthful genius behind the Miura and Espada), first made brains fry at the Geneva motor show in 1971 and went into production in 1974. From the scissor doors, to the wedge-shaped front end, to the geometrically impossible greenhouse, the Countach is a rolling study in impracticality. But its bravado is also the source of its instant appeal.

Countach is a fairly profane expression in the Piedmontese dialect, though Google will politely tell you it means “wow” and, for the sake of propriety, I will only say, “Holy countach, I’m driving a Countach!”

Nuccio Bertone allegedly used the expression when he first saw Gandini’s car. If I’d ever gotten near this car as a 17-year-old in my rad slip-on Vans, I’d have said the same thing. Hell, I said it as a 40-something that wears rad Vans slip-ons when Houston first came around the corner. The name stuck.

After falling into the slipperiest leather ever to cover a driver’s seat, my photographer jammed a backpack full of camera gear behind me, because while the seat moves forward, it doesn’t stay there.

Driving this bull requires leverage. The Countach might have a clutch heavier than a WWII Sherman tank, and this one in particular isn’t quite right.

“It’s been slipping since I left Pacific Palisades,” Houston informed me after surrendering the driver’s seat. He drove the car for 21 nervy miles from his coastal home to Burbank’s John Burroughs High School, from which I couldn’t graduate fast enough in 1987.

Awesome, a wonky clutch that feels like it weighs 300 pounds.

“Hopefully it will make it to your reunion,” he says through a smile. I’m only driving it the equivalent of 24 laps around the football field where I quit the track team because running was too damn hard. “Fixing the clutch will probably cost me about $20,000. So, I’m holding off for now.”

Houston’s opinion of his rosso space ship with gold wheels is as unabashed as the classic itself.

“This is technically the first and only supercar ever made,” he says.

His claim starts with the longitudinally mounted V-12, an innovation copied by many subsequent mid-engine supercar architects. It extends to the aluminum body over a tubular-steel frame, mimicking technology used in racecar construction at the time. He also points to Gandini’s eye-exploding design, including elements such as the scissor doors, which on this particular example won’t stay open when parked on even the smallest of inclines. Oh, and it’s temperamental, another crucial supercar trait.

“Every car since is an imitator,” Houston asserts.

It doesn’t take long to understand why Houston couldn’t stop sweating when he first got out of this pointy razor of a sports car. The windows only open about three inches, and you dare not turn on the air conditioning.

“You’ll definitely overheat the engine,” he explains.

That afternoon was a merciful 80-degrees, instead of your garden variety, 90-degree-plus September day in Southern California. After five minutes I’m sweating, too, and shortly, my reunion dress was soaked through with sweat, not that I cared.

“If you stick your hand out the window and aim it just right,” he says, “you can get some fresh air into your left armpit.” Houston’s right; happy armpit, happy driver.

As my noodle arms heaved the steering wheel around a right turn, we went past storefronts unchanged since I cruised them in the ’77 Datsun B210 I drove in high school. Though truthfully, I couldn’t see them— or much of anything else, for that matter—given the Countach’s extremely limited visibility. Look behind you only if you think the b-pillars are attractive; otherwise, don’t bother.

From a dead stop, turning the tiny wheel was more like turning a locomotive valve from the 1800s than steering a 3,500-pound car. But get moving and the four-valve-per-cylinder Quattrovalvole V-12 moves this bull through San Fernando Valley traffic easier than a Ginsu knife through a beer can, mostly because everyone slows down and moves aside to look at it.

Advertised numbers 30 years ago have it making 420 horsepower, and revving to around 7,000 rpm. That may not sound like much by today’s 700- to 800-hp standards, but in its heyday, the Countach was a buzz saw with a tiny wheelbase of 96.5 inches. A lot of folks, Houston being one of them, believe the 5000 QV, 610 of which were built between 1985 and 1988, to be the best version of the Countach. When the engine turned over, every dog in Burbank started to bark. They seem to agree.

This isn’t the type of car generally seen in the quiet Southern California suburb made famous by Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show, which was filmed in its beautiful downtown. So when that riotous cacophony of an engine sound charged up Buena Vista Street, heads turned. Just in case you miss it with your eyes, the Countach wants to be sure you catch it with your ears. It won’t be ignored.

Changing out of my high heels into tennis shoes to drive was a great idea but not 100-percent necessary. The pedals are painfully close together for the average hairy-footed hobbit guy, but my petite feet fit fine.

“A lot of men have to drive without shoes on, so this was pretty much made for you,” Houston remarks. Damn straight.

“Don’t flip this switch,” Houston warns me, pointing at the wiper lever, as the rubber blade from the larger of two windshield wipers had somehow ripped off. “That part doesn’t actually exist anymore, so I have to get it special ordered, and that will cost probably a couple grand.”

The same holds true for the tires. The original Pirelli P7 rubber, 225/50ZR15 up front and 345/35ZR15 at rear, is long out of production, though there have been several special order re-issue runs. According to Countach-owner legend, when a set comes up, you have to snatch them up quick, because there are serious hoarders in the exclusive bunch. England was the closest place I could find a set to get a sense of cost. After the currency conversion, it appears the rubber bits would show up on the Centurion AMEX as a two-grand sneeze. Houston’s car wears the more modern Pirelli P-Zeros that are the closest equivalent.

To say the Countach offers a smooth ride would be a lie. This thing is rougher than losing your virginity in the back of a limo at homecoming—and that’s exactly the way you want it. Hey, it’s Italian. You expected something genteel?

There’s nothing smooth about the manual five-speed transmission, either. You don’t shift it so much as demand it submit to your will with brute strength. And Houston was right; the clutch was indeed an uncooperative SOB.

Lamborghini claims the top speed to be 183 mph, but the jacked-up clutch on Houston’s car dictated otherwise during this trip and I barely clocked in at 45 mph going up the final hill to my reunion. Still, I was driving a red Countach and couldn’t care less how slowly.

Despite my hair being ruined and my deodorant heavily tested, when I successfully arrived to the reunion at the DeBell Golf Course in the foothills of the Verdugo Mountains, I didn’t want to get out of the car. Thirty years ago, I didn’t really know those people with huge feathered hair that well, so I stayed for an hour, said hi to the few I did know, and left.

Turns out two guys got in a fight. It was high school all over again, just take away the lockers and add alcohol, money, and a middle-aged fear of insignificance. Burbank’s finest showed up, helicopter and all, to break it up. Guess I wasn’t the only one to arrive in style.

Best-laid-plans notwithstanding, only about three people saw this weirdo girl roll up in the Lamborghini Countach 5000 QV, so driving it did zero for my cred with the populars. Yet, I swear I’ve never felt cooler in my life.

1988 Lamborghini Countach 5000 QV Specifications

ON SALE Now EXPECT TO PAY $460,000 (Hagerty insurance average value) ENGINE 5.2 DOHC 48-valve V-12/420 hp, 369 lb-ft TRANSMISSION 5-speed manual LAYOUT 2-door, 2-passenger, mid-engine, RWD coupe EPA MILEAGE 6/10 mpg (city/highway) L x W x H 165.4 x 78.7 x 42.1 in WHEELBASE 96.5 in WEIGHT 3,500 lb (est) 0-60 MPH 4.2 sec (MT, 1990 test) TOP SPEED 183 mph (est)