#i just feel like there’s a general sentiment about southern states i keep seeing and it’s bothering me

[steveharrington]

i am surprised you are proud to be from texas but i am glad you like it there

yes i am proud to be from texas and i’m going to get defensive for a second (sorry if you didn’t intend for this to come off negatively but this is the second ask i’ve gotten that seems to imply being from texas is like Scornful) texas as a state is not defined by the harmful legislation that we live under or the bigots who happen to live here. this is the only state i’ve ever lived in, therefore it’s the state where i’ve met and lived in a community with diverse groups of people, where i’ve met other lgbt people, where i went to a gay bar for the first time, where i went to a protest for the first time, etc etc etc. i’ve seen the ways people in my community respond to the oppressive legislation we live under, i’ve seen the ways we help each other when our senator fucks off to cancun during a natural disaster or when our cities flood and our most vulnerable citizens are ignored by the government…..is all of that meaningless because we live in the south? because we live under a republican majority? i’m so tiredddd of northerners implying that everyone who lives in a southern state should be grouped in with our bigoted neighbors bc ykw there are bigots in your states too! and we suffer the direct consequences of living in a red state every day! but the true genuine spirit of texas is to be welcoming and friendly and loving to everyone, and i’ve seen that firsthand from at least one person in every town i’ve been to here, no matter how tiny or rural. idk like am i supposed to overlook all the firsthand experiences i’ve had with humanity and compassion and love here just because our government is trying to take it from us? that doesn’t make sense to me.

[hindahoney]

Tbh even at my synagogue there's so much anti orthodox sentiment and it makes me really sad. We're liberal/progressive which of course means we generally don't always agree with typical orthodox values, we would go to an Orthodox synagogue instead of this one if we did, but I hear a lot of talk among our community that I find really disrespectful of Orthodox Jews! Things like blanket accusations of homophobia and sexism which just...isn't true if you even glance in the direction of all the queer Orthodox Jews that exist. I swear people just like to say "Orthodox is bad to gay people!!!!" and all the gay Orthodox Jews are like "uh no it's not, we're actually a huge influential part of the Orthodox community, you can't just ignore that we're here, and youre choosing to ignore all the work that queer Orthodox Jews have put in to make our spaces safe and accessible" and then others still go "it's so sad how no queers can thrive in Orthodox spaces :(( sometimes it's like I can still hear their voices"

It's very much not the same thing but for the sake of analogy, it reminds me of American queers who say shit like "The southern states are so homophobic there's nothing there for us this is so sad <\3" while completely ignoring that the south is actually full of queer people, some will live their whole lives in those places and aren't any less queer or influential there than elsewhere, and it's super homophobic to make statements like that. Like sure just go ahead and assume gay people in the south are all completely trapped and powerless and tragic and nonexistent instead of acknowledging that there are thousands of fully realised queer human beings there whose experiences shouldn't be swept under the rug to accommodate the popular narrative that South Bad.

Im not saying Orthodox communities never have issues with things like racism, homophobia, sexism etc, but like?? So do Reform and Liberal communities??? Stop pretending we're absolutely perfect while being so grossly antisemitic *to other Jews*. I've had encounters with transphobic Jews at my synagogue and while I was able to sort it out and get them to a place of understanding my upset and showing remorse and changed behaviour, it feels like people just want to ignore that this shit can still happen in progressive spaces, because it doesn't fit their narrative of Reform Good Orthodox Bad.

I considered going down a conversion route to become Orthodox a few years ago and didn't go through with it, but I did get to engage with my.local Orthodox rabbi and hoooooly shit it's been so saddening and eye opening the way every Orthodox Jew I've spoken to has, very early on, gone "don't worry I'm not sexist I promise!!" because they KNOW people are going to make horrible assumptions about them just based on their culture. Like fuck it tells a sad story about the way people including other Jews must treat them. Straight up antisemitic

I promise not all Liberal, Reform, progressive etc Jews feel negatively about Orthodoxy, it's just irritatingly common and I really heavily sympathise with all the shit you must have to go through. You aren't without allies but I don't blame you for feeling alone when this is how you're often treated.

(ik this isn't my blog but @ goyim: comment on this and i will bite your head off, this is a threat.)

Thank you for sharing your story. I by no means am saying I don't have my own qualms with orthodoxy, and things that I disagree with my community about. But that's okay, it's encouraged to disagree.It depends on who you ask whether they would call me orthodox or not, certainly more liberal Jews would view me this way. But out of respect for the orthodox community, I don't feel comfortable taking on that identity yet, but ultimately that's the goal. For right now I feel comfortable calling myself "frum."

It's incredibly painful when I see Jews throwing other Jews under the bus, because I take the term "tribe" seriously. When Cain asks HaShem "Am I my brother's keeper?" the Torah, and as consequence, the Jews, answered unequivocally yes. A Jew across the world that I've never met is, in my eyes and my entire soul, my family. So when I see my family fighting with each other over complete misunderstandings that could be solved if we just listened more, it hurts.

I feel like when people see me they assume I'm socially backward, as if there's no way I can square my religious beliefs with acceptance of LGBT+ people (as if I myself don't/can't identify as queer), or with women having a more involved role in services. They just assume we are a monolith, as if we're a group of worker ants that all operate and think the same exact way.

There are queer orthodox Jews who have made their space in orthodoxy. There are women who feel like they thrive in orthodoxy, who are NOT "ruled over" by their husbands, and are not forced to dress modestly, but choose it for themselves because they feel more comfortable that way.

[hesther-mcg]

blue dragons, part two + chapter thirteen

pairing: eventual asami x female oc 

character appearances: princess ursa II, general iroh II

summary: the one where iroh has to face the fact that his daughter is leaving

warnings: none i don’t think?? emotional 

a/n: i have no other explanation for why this took so long other than lack of motivation and self doubt haha. i’m not too sure how i feel about it, but i’m ready to get it posted and move on to the other chapters, but i am sorry that i made you guys wait so long. i wish i could have a consistent posting schedule but alas i am Not That Girl. also i made this gif for the chapter hehe 

p2, chap 12  p2, chap 13  blue dragons m. list

tag list: @noodlesfluffy  @sokkas-honour  @appa-gaangnam-style  @strawberisapphic​  @halfbakedanakin @graciefullygracie  @appaair @shellyseashell​  @ewanssdjarins​  @biqherosix​  @briellebean​ 

+ part 3

“So, the dragon’s finally leaving the nest, huh?” The familiar voice of Ursa’s father broke the silence of the room, somehow heavy and light all at the same time. 

She turned her head and looked over her shoulder, her long hair whipping around with it, and she spotted the man leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t look very happy, in fact he looked quite sad deep down; like he was trying to bury it and hide it from the world, but she could see through him. 

Ursa gave him a closed mouth grin anyways, feeling her own sadness deep down as well. “Yeah, but you know I’ll always fly back home.”

She stood before her bed, open suitcases and bags spread out and clothes everywhere. She was packing for her trip to the Southern Water Tribe, and wasn’t quite sure of the length of the trip, and had since decided to pack everything she owned that would keep her warm. 

To be fair, there weren’t many times Ursa needed to bundle up to keep out the cold, but that was about to change very soon. 

Her father chuckled and made his way further into the room slowly, “That’s what I like to hear.” He placed himself in an empty space on the bed, and watched his daughter with sad eyes. Each item that was packed away tugged at his heart strings, and he tried his best not to cry. That would be too dramatic. 

He cleared his throat before speaking again. “I don’t know why you don’t call a staff member to help, you’ve got tons of stuff here,” he attempted to distract himself from his emotions, to keep himself steady. 

“I can do things for myself, and I think now would be the time to show that,” she stated simply, not taking her eyes off of the task at hand. Iroh watched her for a few more moments, mind moving a mile a minute with a thousand different scenarios.

That was a dumb question, because it didn’t help at all. 

“Is this what you feel like watching me pack to leave overseas?” He questioned, voice and heart equally as heavy. 

Ursa faltered for only a second before her hands resume their actions. “Pretty much,” she nodded a few times. “It’s hard, preparing yourself to be without someone you love, but knowing that they’re doing something important is slightly comforting.” 

She placed the top she was folding down into the suitcase and turned her body slightly towards her father. “Watching you leave makes me sad, but knowing that you’re doing great things in the United Forces makes me feel a bit better,” she pursed her lips and swallowed thickly. “Think of it like this, Dad; the Avatar is the key to peace and balance in the world, and I’m going away to teach her. Isn’t that incredible?” 

“It is,” he nodded, and closed his eyes to hide the tears that gathered. “I’m really proud of you, Ursa. These last sixteen years have been hard without your mom,” he paused and gave a breathy chuckle, “--like really hard. But having you makes every day worth it,” he looked at her with eyes full of love and sadness, shining with pride and admiration. “Every time I see you doing something that makes me stop in my tracks, something only you would really do, it’s like I can feel her with me, you know? Standing beside me, head on my shoulder, whispering, ‘that’s our girl.’” His voice broke mid sentence and the Princess felt her heart crack, right down the middle. 

She placed a hand on her father’s shoulder and watched him for a moment before she spoke, taking in every detail that was so familiar ti her and that she would miss oh so dearly. His short black hair was styled as usual, and framed his face handsomely. His golden brown eyes that matched her own seemed to sparkle from the tears in the low light of her bedroom; tears because he loved her and was proud of her, because he would miss her every day and think of her often, because he was scared to let his little girl go but knew she wasn’t so little anymore. 

“I know what you mean,” Ursa comforted softly, feeling the sting behind her eyes the more she spoke. “I saw her, when I was fighting the guards,” she elaborated, “she was standing between you and Grandma, and she had a hand on both of your shoulders. I think that just goes to show that she’s always with us, you know? She’s always watching,” she placed herself gently beside her father, and he wrapped an arm around her. He missed how her eyes traveled to the doorway, and how they stayed glued there. He missed how his late love, the one on his mind and in his heart, stood there with a sweet smile and ethereal glow. 

“Being your dad’s been the greatest thing to ever happen to me,” he whispered, and Ursa’s throat tightened. “I don’t want you to ever forget that, no matter where you are or where I am,” Iroh shakily instructed, and when his daughter turned to look at him he gave her a tearful smile. 

“It’s hard, letting you go,” he nodded as he spoke, choking on his words as he struggled to keep somewhat composed. “Because I want to keep you safe and with me; but I know that you’re smart and can handle just about anything thrown at you.”

“Cause I’m your dragon?” She whispered hoarsely, the tears finally streaming down her cheeks and instead of a sixteen year old girl, he saw a tiny five year old looking up at him with sparkling gold eyes and a frown. 

“You’ll always be my dragon, Princess,” he answered her just as softly, and pulled her in for a hug. He wrapped his large arms around her smaller frame and tucked her under his chin, and she squeezed his torso tightly. Her cheek was squished against his chest, the material of his uniform collecting her tears but neither could be bothered to care; and he tried to memorize the feeling of holding her. Angi knew he’d need it when times got rough. 

This was the most emotional Iroh II had gotten in a long time, and he hardly ever did so in front of others, but it was difficult to hold it back and keep it hidden from his daughter. He had tried, tried so hard to remain the strong hero she knew he was, but in the wake of his only child packing up her entire closet to leave for who knows how long, he couldn’t care less about it anymore. 

The moment was vulnerable, sweet and sentimental and sad all at once. 

When the pair parted from one another, they discreetly wiped their eyes and stood from the bed. Silently, Ursa resumed her packing and her father stood beside her and began to help; but they didn’t need to say anything, everything that they were thinking could be felt by the other. 

The moment was still vulnerable, hearts bared and feelings exposed, and Amiko could feel the emotions swirling in the room on her fingertips when she reached out to her family. 

[slash-em-up]

A Sinclair Family Christmas Vacation: Sinclair Bros Fluff

Catch me fuckin around with the movie canon to make my writing work... it’s free real estate! This is a Christmas present for the most beautiful goomba of them all, @slashermom who not only has a huge brain and giant meat; but is also one of the kindest most generous people I know. YOU’RE THE BEST M!!!!

——————————————————————

You’d officially decide that being ‘on the lam’ didn’t agree with you at all.

The cold truck-stop coffee in the cup holder seemed to look at you mockingly as your stomach gurgled in displeasure. You probably shouldn’t have had a second cup without food to go along with it; but all Lester had bought was a handful of Slim Jims and Cheetos and no one besides him was interested in that particular combination.

You’d been driving for more than ten hours straight today – for the third week in a row - trying to get your small family as far away from Louisiana as possible - all to protect the brothers resting in the seats surrounding you.

The escape from Ambrose and subsequent healing of the twins was something you wished to forget as quickly as possible.

Everything from hiding with Lester from the police, to Vincent’s cries of exhausted pain as you and Lester held him down, to snapping Bo’s dislocated jaw back into place were sanguine phantoms you could all see out of the corner of your eyes – but the only thing you could do was keep moving.

So that’s what you did. State to state, never staying anywhere more than a couple of days, hoping somewhere would feel like home again soon.

———————————————————————

Colorado was just as beautiful as you’d always imagined it would be.

The Rocky Mountains rose like colossal spires before you, stretching out as far as you could see. You appreciated the view quietly, letting the men sprawled across the bench seats in the back get as much rest as they could before one of them took a shift at the wheel.

A glance down at the thermometer showed the temperature dropping at an alarming rate, and as snow began to fall faster and faster through the frozen air, you were suddenly aware that the light jackets that were plenty of protection in a Southern winter wouldn’t do much good when contending with cold like this.

The last dollar bills you’d pulled from an ATM sat heavily in your pocket as you pulled into a Walmart parking lot and slipped out of the car as silently as possible- leaving the heat running and shushing Jonesy’s inquisitive huff with a quick snap of your fingers.

A couple hundred dollars and half an hour later found you burdened down with bags of proper winter clothing and enough McDonald’s cheeseburgers to feed a small army; trudging back to the car through the quickly accumulating snow.

———————————————————————-

“Vincent! Bo! Wake the fuck up!!”

Lester’s cries brought both twins out of their slumber like the crash of a gong.

Bo shot up, ready to fight whatever was causing his brother to panic, while Vincent carefully righted himself, still wary of the knife wound on his healing side.

The car was dark, but for a few slivers of grey light slipping past whatever was covering the windows.

Lester was touching the opaque surface with awe – eyes wide as he felt the cold seeping in through the glass.

“Is that… snow?”

“Aww hell.” Bo grouched “Not this shit again…”

Vincent chuckled at his brothers reactions. The sound ringing clear and unmuffled through the truck from his unmasked face.

The departure from Ambrose had necessitated quick packing by yourself and Lester - and Vincent’s masks had already been confiscated by the local authorities. It had been a rough adjustment for the long-haired man. Not being able to hide his cavernous deformity has sent him into silent depression for days.

The last time the twins had seen snow had been in 1974, right before Lester was born. The unprecedented shift in temperatures had brought a cool two inches of snow to coat the ground in Ambrose, closing shops and canceling schools until it melted.

Vincent remembered enjoying the way the white fluff had turned the streets into a sparkling kingdom, completely foreign and exciting to the young boy.

Bo had not enjoyed the snow in the slightest. This may have had something to do with their father waking them both up at the crack of dawn to shovel the walk; but he couldn’t say for sure.

Vincent’s train of thought was interrupted by Lester forcing the frozen door of the car open and immediately yelping in shock as a small hill of snow fell from the roof down the collar of his shirt.

Bo laughed at his brothers misfortune until his bruised jaw became too sore. He rubbed gingerly at his stubbly cheek until the pain abated, looking out at the snow in contemplation.

Having recovered from his snowy bath, Lester poked his head out of the car – giving a low whistle before twisting in his seat and dropping to the ground.

Another cry of consternation was heard from outside, and Vincent quickly opened his own door to see what the matter was. He leaned back in time to avoid getting snow down his own shirt, but gaped stupidly at the picture Lester made – buried nearly to his knees in freshly fallen snow.

“Is it supposed to get this deep?”

Before Vincent could answer Jonesy decided to join the fun, and leapt from the bench between Bo and him to launch herself into the snow.

The younger twin called out after the quickly retreating form of his dog before climbing out of the car and taking off after her himself.

“GET THE FUCK BACK HERE!!!” Bo roared from his seat in the car.

Lester was now chasing after Vincent who was chasing after Jonesy and Bo had had quite enough of these snowy antics thank you very much.

This was the scene you arrived back to, huffing and puffing from behind your scarf.

You stopped by Bo’s open door just in time to watch Lester trip over a hidden rock and face-plant into a snow drift.

“… what the hell?”

———————————————————————

It was Christmas Eve and you’d been snowed in.

An hour further inland and the thick flakes had started falling so hard that none of you could see more than five feet in front of the car.

Your saving grace had been the flickering neon of a 24-hour roadside diner, and once you parked, the boys had formed a single-file line through the thigh-deep snow, trying to make it easier for you and Jonesy to trudge along with them.

The warm building was manned by a single grey-haired waitress and two cooks. They were clearly surprised to see anyone braving the blizzard - all the locals having been wise enough to stay indoors during the storm.

Bo’s signature charm was enough to secure a place for Jonesy along with the four of you, and after a plateful of pancakes and potful of hot coffee everyone was feeling a bit more like themselves.

Despite the biting wind and whipping snow the mood was festive, as the TV played White Christmas and the cooks sang off-key Christmas carols from the kitchen.

Lester leaned back against the plastic booth seat and patted his stomach.

“Ooo boy that’s a good feeling. Real food. Wish ya’ll had let me stop and pick up that doe we saw – she’d make a nice stew right about now.”

Bo scoffed.

“Yeah, and where would we keep it genius? Let alone cook it. Nothin’ says ‘look at me’ more than a deer tied to your hood.”

You giggled and leaned against Vincent. The deformed twin was sitting in the furthest corner of the booth, making sure to keep his ‘bad side’ facing the wall and the beanie hat you’d bought him pulled as low as he could.

He offered you a small smile and took a sip of hot coffee, enjoying the feeling of normalcy, if only for a few hours.

The heated debate was interrupted by the waitress.

“You folks want a warm-up? It’ll be just about the only warm thing you’ll see tonight if you’re planning on braving the roads again.”

“Why Carol, you read my mind.” Bo offered the waitress a cocky smile, making her shoot him a bemused one of her own. He held out his mug and Carol filled it to the brim, snorting as Bo winked at her.

“Is he always like this?” She asked the group.

Lester and Vincent chuckled as you hummed out a sing-song “I’m afraid so… he’s a real lady-killer.”

Bo kicked at you from under the table, but you dodged and stuck out your tongue.

Vincent rapped his knuckled on the table, bringing all attention to him.

“Merry Christmas…” he said quietly.

A glance at the clock told you all that it was indeed officially Christmas morning.

You smiled, sharing warm looks with Lester and Vincent, returning the holiday sentiment. Bo looked around at you, at his brothers, at his family - bruised and broken, but somehow, still alive and together.

He raised his coffee cup as Bing and Rosemary began singing ‘White Christmas’.

“And a happy New Year…”

[griimreaping]

@utternocries​ - one word fic prompts

Lower ( part 1 )

The tolling of the church bells was genuinely ominous. An impending sense of dread dominating the grey morning fog, which blanketed Novigrad. Those silvery sounding clangs ringing out through the mist to call forward its faithful masses from the gloom. Pulling the traveling cloak tighter around her shoulders, if only to stave off the nerves rather than the general chill that harkened the coming of autumn, Jean flinches when Geralt's shoulder lightly brushes hers. Nerves had been high in the woman's chest as they neared the city, the last time she'd stepped foot in those walls being the night before her family died. Now with the cold solid stone rising around them, Jean couldn't help be reminded of a tomb.

This must have shown on her face from the flicker of a frown that graced the Witcher's mouth. He'd been summoned on a contract put forth by one of the wealthy governors that had come to occupy a mansion in the northern district of Novigrad. Since he'd taken up residence there, it's caused the man nothing but grief. Deaths in the family, along with some more insidious spectral activity that made even the most persistent of tenants shy away from even renting the place. Which only added to the misfortunes befalling an otherwise uninteresting and mundane man of wealth. With such wealth, he enlisted Geralt's help, and by some lucky stroke, Jean as well. Who had insisted she come along since the governor had mentioned something about black vines overtaking most of the house. 

"What plant has black vines?" Had been the first question Geralt had asked when done skimming the frantic letter that had been sent forward to Downwarren. The Witcher had to stop spending so much time in her little hut, now even people outside of the village were beginning to notice. Plucking the letter from his hands and chewing on the inside of her cheek as she read, Jean's mind crunched over all the various odd species that thrived in this environment.

 "Devil's bramble is the first that comes to mind, but it's more of a shrub than vines. Could also be just a mistaken color?" Placing the letter back down and folding arms across her chest, the Druid casts an uneasy glance out of the dewy glass in her kitchen to the misty bog. She hadn't been to Novigrad in nearly fifteen years. The harsh smell of a house fire coming back in a wave so sudden it took a considerable amount of will not to choke on the air stuck in her lungs. Hugging herself tighter, Jean forces the words out of her lips in an attempt to cast away unwanted memories. To drown the screams.

"You'll probably need an expert on plants and herbs," a glance is cut at the Witcher to gauge how the words are received. "I won't ask for any of your payment, I'm just genuinely curious now and could do with a bit of adventure away from the bog and corpses." Geralt grumbled a few words about how things were dangerous, and Jean's rebuttal of how she could handle a sword along with magic seemed to lessen the worries only marginally. Or at least enough that he put them to bed. Now walking among the cramped sewage reek which clung to the southern district like a diseased lover, Jean begins to miss her bog. Roaches hoof beats echo in the dull mist as they weave through cobblestone streets going north. A beggar approaches before seeing the Witcher and thinking better of his choices, slinking back into a darkened patch of fog that yawned into an alleyway. The struggling morning sun had yet to touch these streets, sleepy shop windows gazing out onto quiet abandoned boulevards. A liminal moment in time before the meager warmth of an autumn day shone through the slate clouds above.

 That invisible line between districts isn't so invisible in Novigrad. A stark change between cramped tenant buildings that had begun to go crooked like a thieves smile, to the gaudy colors in the markets almost hurt the Druid's eyes. Even at such an early hour, a merchant in puffy gold pants tried valiantly to hawk some bruised peaches to her, claiming they were the city's sweetest. More polite "no thank yous" than Jean figured were necessary, and he'd given up his venture only to flag down another tired traveler bustling away. They did not make it out of the markets without expending a small amount of coin, which Jean put out to receive a small set of glass bottles in return, which now clinked softly in her bag. Geralt eyed the merchant selling her the glass wear with a critical eye, waiting to see if he was going to swindle her or not. This intense cat-eyed stare is more than likely what got jean a reduced price just to make them go away.

"I think I have a new idea about what the vines are." The Druid pipped up as another jarring change in scenery happened from the markets to the northern district. Now polished iron gates bore their teeth at them from the mouths of massive walkways up to ostentatious villas. No longer is the lower districts' corpse stench lingering; instead, a delicate waft of mountain roses and lemon trees walk in step with the Witcher and the Druid. Jean felt dirty here like she shouldn't be permitted to touch anything for fear of sullying it beyond rescue.

"There's a rare type of flower which only grows on the site of immeasurable evil. I've only ever read about it, though; the drawing seemed close enough to the description he gave." Rummaging around in the folds of her cloak, Jean produces a very worn and overly bookmarked tome. Roughly the size of her palm, the books brown and yellow pages had the look of something that had been steeped in bog water and perhaps blood at one point. Leafing through to the proper page, the pages crackle with age under the woman's touch.

"Here, Dagon's breath. Black vines with leaves about the size of a supper plate, able to produce flowers but only on full moons. Dried flowers turned into a powder can produce some of the most potent madness-inducing potions known to the world. Since this is such a rare specimen, there are speculations that even the scent of the flower can cause severe hallucinations." Reading this passage aloud, the Druid could feel a cold hand drag down her spine. If this was what they were dealing with, then whatever cast the curse even to make it grow had to be obscenely powerful.

The Dagon is old magic. Older than what most perceived as life it's self, coming from the chaos before time. From all that Jean could find in the books in her home, it was a god born of entropy and discord but required strict worshippers to ensure that it would have a proper host to inhabit when the void took back over. Mages and fanatics alike that dabbled in the Old Gods were ones that put their minds in the hands of babbling madness willingly, hoping to be rewarded with some form of forbidden insight to the world. The thought made the Druid shudder. She'd tasted the sharp edges of madness once before, those dark whispers in a language lost still snaked into the blackest of nightmares that she couldn't wake herself from. They'd always promised such alluringly unfathomable things to her.

It's lost in these troubling murky visions that cause the woman to bump into Geralt when he stops at one of the ornate gates. Placing a hand on her shoulder to steady her, the Witcher's disquiet shows fully. He'd had many half-hearted qualms about bringing her along on this, and now that she was becoming so distracted, it only furthered his worry about her being a liability.

"You should go wait back at the inn. Now that I have a better idea of what this plant is, it shouldn't be a problem." I don't want you to get hurt; goes unvoiced, but his cat-like eyes' narrowing conveys the sentiment. Jean's face flares pink around the ears at her embarrassment, but she doesn't allow the dialogue of the inn to go any further. Making a vague gesture at the nameplate affixed to the gate, the woman lets out an irritated breath, the frustrations more directed at herself.

"We're already here; it wouldn't make sense just to send me away now. Plus, I don't remember which roads we took to get here through the fog. Come on, Geralt, just let me continue, and I'll keep my head on straight, okay? No more distractions." A half-hearted smile that she hopes will cement the words into place only has Geralt absently rolling his eyes. Producing the key that had been sent along with the letter they'd received, the gate is unlocked. A horse post just inside the iron portal is where they part with Roach, who busies themselves with munching on the fresh hay that had been left out.

Path flanked on either side by overgrown flower beds containing every flavor of poisonous plant known to the region. Even a few that look notably exotic had a tight knot of anxiety forming in the woman's chest. A breeze sighing up the path causes the nefarious blooms and grasses to seethe in a green ocean around them, their ghostly voices curling in Jean's ears. Reaching out to place a holding hand on Geralt's arm, Jean freezes in her tracks when the house looms into view from the dismal fog, which had turned into a light misting rain.

When the governor had stated the vines were growing along the house, she had expected a few sparse fingers grasping greedily at the spaces between the bricks. Instead, what they were greeted with was a building that seemed to move with a life of its own. Thick coal-black leaves nearly the size of Geralt's head shiver in the breeze giving a sinister shivering quality to the house from foundation to rain gutters. Interspersed with wine-red flowers sporting elegantly curved petals and long golden yellow pistils that reminded Jean of a great blood-sucking insect searching for its next meal.

Then the whispers.

"Geralt, we shouldn't go in there." We're the words Jean heard herself saying, startled by how her voice sounded so terrified. While the Druid can listen to most of the passive voices of the plant life around her, these held that same nebulous darkness that only spoke to her in deepest nightmares. They carried the same voice as the madness. Their saccharine-sweet smell only there to lure you in closer with beckoning leaves and candy red petals.

Before responding to such a statement, a loud voice calls to them excitedly from the house. A gaunt man in a midnight black traveling cloak hurries toward them, waving his arms and wearing an almost crazed smile that shows far too much of his gums, which are far too pale to be healthy.

"Witcher! And... company. So good of you to finally arrive, and when I fear I am at my wits end!" The man nearly shouts at them, reaching out to vigorously shake Geralt's then Jean's hand with both of his clammy skeletal paws clasped around theirs. When his fingers leave the Witcher's, he notices fresh raw wounds on the man's forearms peeking out from his dark robes' confines. They looked almost like symbols carved into his skin, but such a quick glance hadn't been enough time. Deep-set eyes that once would have struck a woman dead with a glance now flit in their sockets nervously, the striking ocean blue ringed with bloodshot scleras and the deep shadows of exhaustion. The man looked to be hand in hand with death, yet the cold grip that clutches Jean's own spoke of fierce hidden strength that still dwelled like an angry spirit inside him.

"You must come inside! He has told me so much about you. I am looking forward to speaking with you before we get to such dark and dismal affairs. Come come." Voice and grip offering no rebuttal, the governor loops his arm with Jean's, nearly dragging the woman toward the house of dark whispers. Following close behind, Geralt notices the low humming of his medallion as they approach the building. There was nothing good contained within, the corrupted magic oozing out and tainting the air around them.

[toongrrl-blog]

The Mommy Myth: Threats from Within (Part Three)

Just some Didi Pickles anxiety for you before we start ahead, I think we’d all feel this way.

We start with the Lisa Steinberg (buried as Elizabeth “Lisa” Launders) case where a six year old was abused to death by her adoptive father Joel Steinberg while her mother Hedda Nussbaum looked on (and was abused herself), there is still some controversy as to whether Hedda was an accomplice to her daughter’s abuse and death, or if she’s merely a victim in her own right (also Joel is walking around free after parole). Media coverage of child abuse have improved, being kicked off by the publication of Mommie Dearest by Christina Crawford and Oprah even covering it in her show “Scared Silent”, interview with Michael Jackson, her disclosure of childhood trauma, and her coverage of child abuse in a Montana town. The darker side is that the coverage overtly covered Black or Latina mothers and were aimed at underfunded and understaffed child welfare services (without assigning culpability to the government and agency support or lack of it) and these stories didn’t address structural problems like unemployment, poverty, generational trauma, racism, etc. Instead they came up with “the Maternal Delinquent”, who was more shocking and newsworthy than fathers who murdered and abused their children. 

We talk about Susan Smith, where the story starts off with a 23 year old woman’s Mazda being carjacked by a “black man in a ski mask”, taking her car and her two young children (age 3 and 14 months, respectively). An alert was put on for the suspect and the whole community (the small South Carolina town of Union) went on a search for the boys while their separated parents went on national television to beg for the safe return of the boys, while David Smith could barely keep himself together, Susan was very composed (they had filed for divorce) causing many viewers to speculate if the two of them or one of them were involved in the kidnapping. This led to Susan saying that it’s so hurtful someone would think that of them and then hours later, Susan Smith confessed to the FBI that she had driven her car into the lake John D. Long with the kids in the backseat and let the car roll off the boat ramp into the deep murky waters of the lake. This also occurred around the same time as the O.J. Simpson trial so it was a time where people were really tuning into their screens where there was coverage up until Smith was sentenced in late July 1995. The community (that supported her and her family) were chanting “baby killer” at her on her way to the courthouse and it turned out that she had been dating the most eligible (and wealthy) man in town, Tom Findlay, who didn’t want to get involved with a woman with children, so she went La Llorona on them. Here’s a break from Coco:

I don’t have to tell you that when reading these stories that you can feel free to take time to go outside, smell fresh air, cuddle puppies or look at pictures of puppies. But I will continue: 

She became Time magazine’s cover girl, people built a shrine to the boys on the lake’s bank, including mothers with their children while they asked “How could a Mother do that to her children?” with one African American mom (one of the skimpy times where moms of color were shown in a more positive life than white mothers) snarking: “She couldn’t eat ‘cause they were hungry, she couldn’t sleep ‘cause they were cold. I guess she couldn’t take a bath ‘cause she thought they was drowning.” The news was a shock to a lot of people, even her ex husband insisted she was a dedicated mother in interviews, but she bamboozled law enforcement, viewers, a whole town, the media, and set the southern African-American community on high alert (look up pogroms and look up the Springfield race riot) and she reminded people that motherhood may be an act. It also made people wonder: are kids just commodities to their parents? The further coverage was worse: they figured the kids were aware when they went in the water (there goes my hopes that they were asleep then). The Union County Sheriff’s office re-created the crime with cameras in a car so people and see and feel what it was like for the boys to go under, then was aired by the networks; at a time when mothers were told to put themselves in their childrens’ shoes and see the world through their eyes, it was jarring. There were two women from the community who cried over the idea of these two little boys and their last moments.

Speaking of horror and children, it turned out that Susan Smith’s stepfather, a member of the conservative Christian Coalition, had been sexually molesting her since she was sixteen and (according to his testimony) was still having sex with her and her own father committed suicide when she was six (a social worker said she tried to press charges but the sheriff said the case was closed and “it’s file disappeared”); Susan even attempted suicide as a teenager. David Smith testified he doesn’t know what to do now his kids were gone and he had plans to see them grow up and teach them how to ride a bike and go fishing. A Newsweek poll revealed that 63% respondents said she should receive the death penalty. The trial even revealed that white picket fence small towns like Union, with it’s churches numbering over 100, would have it’s dark secrets and Tom Brokaw said, “And in every small town in America tonight residents comfortable in the sanctuary of their familiar surroundings are wondering, ‘What’s going on here that we don’t know about?’”

Instead of probing “how could she?”, the media focused on sentimentalization with Medea Syndrome with even Cosmopolitan magazine taking time away from blow jobs and the thing that Sir Mix A Lot ain’t down with, saying there were a lot of mothers killing their children. And then we met the moms who made mistakes that are so fatal: Lisa Beth Hathaway, mother of Jessica Dubroff. The “miniature Sally Ride” who wanted to be a pilot and was already training to be a pilot and was flying with her instructor and father from Half Moon Bay to go across the country, the weather wasn’t that great and the plane crashed and killed all the passengers. Her father, Lloyd Dubroff was blamed for pushing her to be the next Amelia Earhart, but mom Lisa was portrayed as a monster...although if everything went right she would have been held as an example of exemplary mothers raising exceptional kids (just sayin’). The moms interviewed were outraged at Lisa’s permissiveness and at the fact that she said she wouldn’t have kept Lisa from doing it because it’s her dream (if she did keep her, we’d say she was toxic). Then she was grouped with Wanda Holloway, Brooke Sheilds’s mom, Macaulay Culkin’s dad, and Steffi Graf’s dad as a “pushy parent”. She just wanted her daughter to be happy is all that is, but the media went on to drag her through the mud when they saw she was a hippie feminist who didn’t play a TV  and gave her musical instruments for her daughter, now mothers were policed in private even if their husbands did the fucking up. If things had gone right, Lisa would have been congratulated for raising an exceptional daughter with a variety of talents. She has written a book about her daughter.

The hand wringing went on with their coverage of teen moms like Melissa Drexler and Amy Grossberg, who gave birth and abandoned their babies in the trash outside. Newsweek covered the stories and similar ones, suggesting an epidemic. There was no exploration of how US culture uses sex to sell everything and turns around tells kids to “just say no”, the poor state of sex ed in a country where people are too squeamish to discuss sex in a clear and mature manner, or why was dumping a baby in a dumpster the only viable option? 

These stories affected how moms were looked and judged and the public vilification covered was designed to keep moms on their toes and never let your guard down, or you will be condemned. Also do it all yourself Mom. 

[oystersandpearls]

PEARL VICTOR ( CAMILLE WINBUSH ) is a 17 year old JUNIOR student at Broadripple Academy. SHE is originally from COLUMBIA, SOUTH CAROLINA but moved to Broadripple ONE YEAR ago. SHE is HARD-WORKING and SPIRITED but can also be BLUNT and INATTENTIVE.  

1. Full Name?

Pearl Eunice Victor.

2. Preferred Names or Nicknames?

None! Pearl is Pearl, end of story.

3. What does their name mean? Does it have any significance in their family? Do they like their name?

Pearl was named in memory of her great-grandmother, and that mantle is something she wears with-well, not a sense of pride, but a sense of duty. Eunice was just a name they thought sounded nice, although it’s original form does mean victory in Greek, which might make it a teensy bit redundant. Oops!

4. Age and Date of Birth?

17! She was born May 20th, 2002.

5. Gender and Pronouns?

Cis female (she/her).

6. Hometown?

Columbia, South Carolina. As such, Broadripple has been a fairly big shift for Pearl, but she’s trying to deal with it as best she can!

7. Does your character fit into any well known archetypes or tropes?

Bits of Pearl’s demeanor do fall into the classic Southern Belle archetype, generally sweet if also fairly hard-headed if there’s something she wants to fight for, but she’s not exactly accustomed to rural life.

8. How long have they been at Broadripple?

Pearl transferred into Broadripple for her sophomore year of high school, and has remained there ever since.

9. What led them to apply to Broadripple? Was it a decision made by them or by their parents/guardians or somewhere in between?

It was a joint decision, although one that was largely made by her father, a pastor at the largest AME church in Columbia. Despite Broadripple being a Catholic institution, he felt that it’s reputation meant that his beloved daughter, his only female child as well as his youngest, deserved to have the opportunities that being a Broadripple student would provide.

10. Whether they’ve been at Broadripple four days or four years, do they enjoy it? Do they like Broadripple?

In all honestly, Pearl doesn’t know if she can say that she enjoys Broadripple or not. Sure, it’s facilities are a heck of a lot better than anything she had back in Columbia, and yes, some of the boys were real cute, but despite everything, she still feels a disconnect between herself and the student populace as a whole. Maybe it’s her color, maybe  it’s the fact that so many of them have no idea what struggle is. Or, maybe it’s the fact they don’t approve of her efforts of trying to start a cheer squad. In any case, Pearl enjoys parts of Broadripple, but can’t quite see she enjoys it is a whole.

11. What house are they in? Do they care very much about their house?

Pearl is part of Seton, and honestly, most events related to the houses are the events in which Pearl displays the most enthusiasm. While she generally believes in school spirit as a whole, her competitive nature means that house events are the best way to sate that thirst, considering she doesn’t take part in any of the sports teams.

12. Who do they share a dorm with, or are they on their own for the moment? What are they like to live with? Are they clean or messy? Early risers or night owls?

At this point in time, Pearl is rooming on her own, and she would very much hope to keep it that way! Not because isn’t a good roommate, because she would definitely tell you she is - and, at the very least, she keeps her side quite organized if a bit garish with it’s constant use of baby pinks and blues, and with her waking up at 6 sharp in order to look over her work for the day.

13. How is your character’s dorm decorated? Is it bare or bursting at the seems with personality? Any particular sentimental items from home?

Pearl keeps scrapbooks with her favorite family memories tucked into a drawer in her dorm, considering she’s boarding at Broadripple and only able to go visit her family during long holidays. Her dorm room, as mentioned earlier, is decorated with family memories, as well as her fond memories of cheer and gymnastics, which she keeps framed all around. 

14. What is their favourite subject at school? Do they even have a favourite? Why?

As an astrophysicist, Pearl would be amiss to put anything other than physics as her favorite class! What initially began as a fascination with astrology ended up becoming a genuine interest in astronomy, and ever since the eighth grade, Pearl has aimed for working at NASA, even though she knows it currently isn’t exactly in the best state.

15. Are they involved in any clubs? Which ones?

Pearl is a member of the Chamber Choir, the Buddy Club, as well as the Student Weekend Activities Team, if only because she enjoys busying herself. She has been preparing herself for a run from Student Council, and as such, been considering joining Women of Broadripple as a way to gain at least some measure of recognition before she does announce her candidacy, but for now, she hasn’t made any concrete moves on that front.

16. How does your character feel about Broadripple’s Unofficial Clubs? Do they know about them? Are they a part of any of them?

Pearl regards the BBC with some disdain, although she supposes their antics do liven up the school environment. (Also, their parties are pretty good.) As someone trying not to get involved with any drama at campus, at least not through delving into things the administration would want exposed, she isn’t exactly fond of the kids going around trying to stir shit up. 

17. Does your character participate in any sports? If so, what made them join the team?

Nope! In her previous school, Pearl was a cheerleader, but seeing as how Broadripple doesn’t have a cheer squad, she doesn’t participate.

18. What afternoon activities does your character do? Do they just do the one mandatory one or are they involved in multiple? Why?

Pearl both volunteers at a nursing home, and does dance. Dance is the closest thing she has to cheer, and she generally specializes in contemporary, while she both genuinely enjoys community service and believes that it will help her college applications. 

19. Do they miss their home when they’re at Broadripple? Do they often go home for the weekends or do they only go home during holiday breaks?

Pearl stays in frequent contact with her family through weekly videochats with her parents, but in order to save on money, she is only able to go back to South Carolina during long breaks, something that still doesn’t exactly sit well with he. 

20. Did your character know Izzy De Santis or Maggie Monroe?

Pearl generally has no idea who Izzy is other than that crazy dude who punched someone, but as Maggie was in her batch, she can’t hep but feel a bit uncomfortable about the entire situation. Not that she liked Maggie - Pearl loved God, too, but Maggie seemed a little off to her, but the fact that she’s just up and gone means something must have gone wrong.

21. Has your character heard of Edith Lynch? Do they know the story?

Pearl has heard murmurs about incidents going on, but she hasn’t bothered to read up on any of the details surrounding it, so she has little to no idea about the specifics of the Edith Lynch incident.

22. How does your character feel about Nighmore? Have they noticed the recently closed shops yet?

Call her judgey, but Pearl doesn’t like Nighmore. The people are too nice, especially in the wake of the things that have been going down. Pearl has felt this way for some time, though, and besides briefly noting that there seem to be less places to hang out in Nighmore, she hasn’t put too much thought into it, mainly filtering it into a list of all the other reasons Nighmore gives her the heebie jeebies. 

23. Have you made any aesthetic Pinterest boards/WeHeartIt collections for this character? Or playlists? Anything you would like to share!

I may add stuff here, but for now, no!

[roseamongroses]

Antithesis (4): “these are a few of my favorite things”

Summary: For their Junior project, Roman is unceremoniously paired with Dmitri.

He’s hardly interacted with the guy, a strange occurrence since Virgil has had a weird/unexplained hate-hate relationship with him since middle-school. But it isn’t like he’s complaining. Dmitri’s cute, he compliments Roman, and damn can he paint.So Roman may or may not catch feelings, and he may not be wiling to uncatch them anytime soon.

–Dmitri returns the sentiment.

[General Warnings:] Misgendering, Past Misgendering, Past Bullying, Mild Sexual Content,  implied emotional abuse, Cursing[Tags/mood:] highschool au, project troupe, fluff and angst but its all good, chat fic, teen stress, its flordia no snow we die like men[Pairing:] Roceit (Roman Sanders/ Deceit Sanders), hinted future/possible logince/roloceit/loceit [Characters] Roman Sanders/Deceit (Dmitri) Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Logan Sanders, Patton Sanders, Remy (Sleep) Sanders, Nate Sanders, Dragon Witch (Diana)

(1)(2)(3) (4) (5)

Rem: im sorry patton but no, absolutely not, unfriended, blocked, deleted

Patton: :( But I’m right tho

Rem: the day i accept that is the day i wilingingly give up my crop tops for a sensible polo shirts, cargo shorts, boat shoes, and white socks

Ro: patton hon is he being mean? do i need to get rid of him?

Rem: IVE KNOWN YOU LONGER, SINCE WE WERE BUT BABS , I SHOULD BE HIGHER ON THAT PRIORITY LIST BUCKO

Rem: plus you wont be all knight in shining armor once you find out patton thinks flordia is apart of the south (™)

Ro: …..

Ro: patton you’re blocked.

Patt: D:

V: sorry im never anti patton, you fake friend

V:I mean he’s not technically wrong?

V: the redneck culture does exist here, we have relatively similar dialects, similar weather

Patt: !!!!

Ro: patt the day i actually block you is the day the moon does like it does in umbrella academy, but v you’re on thin fucking ice

V: bitch i broke the ice years ago, you only unblocked me cause mom told you to

Rem: spOILERS

Ro: shhhh

Ro: and the GRACE PERIOD WAS OVER LAST YEAR YOU OLD MAN

Rem: I TAKE MY TIME OK

Ro: excuses excuses

V: so im assuming i won this arguement for patt right?

Ro: no. and like legit v that only applies to like,,,,parts of flordia,,,the northern part mainly but like only parts

Ro: flordia might be similar but like,,,,it's historically, culturally, geographically, and politically different then other states that are called southern states,,, t

Ro: just asked a southern boy bout it he said, “fuck no, it's a spanish colony,”

V:what about Texas huH

Ro: Texas was a whole ass country at one point, texas still acts like it’s a country, Texas is whatever Texas wants to be

V: I wish I could annex myself from this class work

Lo: God, mood.

---

“Oh, I could kiss you,” Roman said, as soon as Dmitri turned around to hand him the icecream cone. The stand was small, the old lady running it, giving them a cheerful goodbye.

When Dmitri said the museum wasn’t stuffy, it was quite literally outside. Seashell decorated pathways stretched and weaved through elaborate gardens.

Everywhere was a sight to behold, from the blossom of flowers dripping every color imaginable to trees that might as well have been sprawling giants, often dipping into the path way in a tangled, ivies creeping up it's weathered branches. In the midsts of it all, sculptures were effortlessly woven into the park, abstract student projects and places of memory creating almost a cohesive story amongst the beautiful chaos.

“Dee, when I said take me anywhere,” Roman licked his ice cream greedily, “I thought we’d go to like a starbucks- not a park more attractive than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

“So the way to your heart is food and pretty things?” Dmitri smiled.

“You bet your ass it is,” Roman said, leading them down a trail with less people, “My first crush was on this dude who gave me a seashell, I went home and told Momma and Mom I wanted marriage.”

Dmitri sipped his own water, “Do you still have it?”

“Of course, it was a gift, ” Roman hummed, “‘Bout cried when I got it,” He looked up to see Dmitri staring at him, “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Dmitri didn’t look away, “No, you just don’t have the right to be so fuckin’ adorable.” He said as if fact.

“How is me being a a hoarding goblin adorable?” Roman said, suddenly very conscious that he did not in fact want Dmitri to stop looking at him, but also very much aware that he might combust if Dmitri didn’t stop.

“Huh, are you embarrassed again?” Dmitri laughed, voice pleasant. “My aunt never keeps anything I gave her, it’s nice that you do...” He explained.

“Oh.”

—-

<3BestofMoms<3: Ro, do we need anything at the store?

R: v sent a list through notes this morning

<3BestofMoms<3: Okay, found it, thanks <3

R: np <3

<3BestofMoms<3: Are you going to be back for dinner or is that boy gunna be hogging you all day? I'm not quite sure he has earned the gift that is all day roman time

R:mommmm

<3BestofMoms<3: :)

---

As the sun stretched across the sky, the two had wandered into the more shadowed parts of the park. Roman’s initial giddiness slipping in a more lethargic satisfaction as he explored as much as he could, Dmitri’s eagerness to show him around and introduce him to the park’s employees hardly faltering.

Dmitri glanced at the time, “You ready to head back?”

Roman was crouched, admiring the tiny statues of walking fish, “No, I want to live here,” he said, “But why? Does she need you to do something?” He fumbled with the buttons of his shirt as he stood up, because dammit, clothes are hard and the sun is hot, okay?

“No, she thinks I’m studying for a class I told her I dropped, ” He said, “You just seem tired.”

“I am no--” Roman scrunched his nose, “The fuck, Dmitri, I am tired.” he narrowed his eyes, “How did you know that, I didn’t even know that.”

Dmtir made a show of looking Roman up and down, “I just knew,” He did not elaborate, and Roman made a sound that was vaguely alarmed in nature.

“V was right, you’re the worst, won’t even teach me your fancy magic tricks,” Roman grumbled, taking Dmitri's hand, and tucking himself under their arm.

“Somebody's grumpy, you sure you don’t want me to take you home?”

“I’m sure,” Roman, swayed a bit, “We don’t even need to stay here...”

He sighed, “I don’t know you seem pretty….”

“Dm-itri,” Roman murmured slow, with a half smile, and Dmitri’s mouth dried.

“Roman…”

“Please?”

“You’re practically falling over yourself,” Dmitri said, “You know we can always come back?”

Roman’s eyes perked up at that, “It's a date.” he said, and Dmitri couldn’t stop himself from flushing and looking away. 

He liked that a bit too much.

!!!taglist!!!

@daflangstlairde

[elshalarossa]

Hello I'm very excited I'm going on my first trip to the States on my own and am visiting Austin and New Orleans. I should be in New Orleans about a week Do you have any must sees and dos suggestions? Thank you so much if you are able to suggest a couple of things!

Yay, how exciting! Two very fun cities to visit. I haven’t lived there in almost ten years now… but a lot of my favorite spots are still alive and kicking! Here’s a few suggestions, poached from a list I created to share with my wedding guests a few years back: 

This is not an exhaustive list by any means – you can spin around blindfolded in NOLA, start walking, and hit a good restaurant or a fun bar.  But these are some places I love to visit while I’m there! 

Eats:

- Commander’s Palace Classic, upscale New Orleans favorite for special occasions. Go for lunch (11:30-2:00).  Portions are still generous, it’s far less pricey than dinner, and… I mean… 25¢ martinis… hard to argue with that. Also please note the dress code. They take it very seriously.

-Origami http://sushinola.com/origami_new_orleans_sushi_menu-2/>Best. Sushi. Ever.  Not super authentic Japanese, but FANTASTIC cajun fusion. Get the cajun spiced tuna tataki, and the snowcrab stuffed mushrooms.

- Jacques-Imo’s If I had to pick a favorite place to bring out-of-town friends this would absolutely be it. Southern-style comfort food with a Cajun twist. Shrimp and Alligator Cheesecake. SHRIMP AND ALLIGATOR CHEESECAKE. Just trust me. I believe they only accept reservations for parties of 6 or more, so either bring your friends or come early. The line gets insane.

- Cochon The name means “Pig.”  This is not the place for vegetarians. Nor those who keep Kosher. If you don’t have the time or inclination for a sit-down meal, you can also get STELLAR sandwiches at the butcher next door…

- Port of Call Best burger joint in town. Show up early, especially on the weekends, or you’ll be waiting for a while. Get a drink while you wait! Get three! Get drunk! The cocktails mean business.  Not for lightweights. Be warned. Get yourself a Monsoon.

- Superior Seafood The name is accurate. FROZEN FRENCH 75’s. It’s on St Charles Avenue, so you could take a streetcar ride to have a lovely lunch there. 50 cent oysters and half priced drinks at happy hour!

- La Boca Absolutely amazing Argentinian Steak House. I have never enjoyed steak more than I have at this restaurant. Never. I’m pretty sure Mr Staark agreed to marry me largely because this is where I took him on our first date. (And I’m only sort of kidding. ;-) )

- The Ruby Slipper https://www.therubyslippercafe.net/> There are multiple locations for this diner-style cafe. A fucking FANTASTIC brunch option, for cheap.  The Eggs Cochon is orgasmic. The breakfast cocktails are FAB. Great for hangovers.

Sips: While there are many, many great bars all over the city, these are my favorites.

- The Columns Hotel Aside from being my wedding venue, and v sentimental for me, this hotel boasts a bar with one of the best bloody marys you will ever drink.

- Carousel Bar & Lounge The Hotel Monteleone has the famous Carousel Bar, which rotates around the room as you drink. It’s a traditional tourist stop, but actually quite lovely! Very traditional, old-school New Orleans vibe.

- Pirate’s Alley Cafe and Absinthe HouseTucked away behind the St Louis Cathedral, this place just feels like going back in time. Wonderful outdoor courtyard seating, a little bit off the beaten path, despite being in the middle of the Quarter!

- The Country Club Gay bar with a swimming pool.  And two hot tubs. Yup.

Shopping:

- Trashy Diva VINTAGE EVERYTHING! And there are lots of fun quirky shops all around that area of Magazine street, too. Fun exploring!

- French Market Get your souvenirs here. :) I recommend a copy of the River Road Cookbook– it’s a southern staple! (Put together by the Junior League of Baton Rouge many years ago, it has EVERYONE’s Grandma’s best recipes in it.)

Fun Stuff:

- World War II Museum My favorite “tourist” activity in town. Educational, very well-maintained. They also have a theater with shows and a delicious 1940’s style diner inside.

- Audubon Zoo/Aquarium of the Americas/Insectarium Our zoo is cheaper and better than the Bronx zoo, if you’re into that sort of thing. There are Mississippi Riverboat cruises that go between the Aquarium, downtown, and the Zoo, uptown. I have never been to the insectarium (it opened shortly after I moved to NYC) but everyone says it’s amazing.

- Haunted History Tours Silly yet wonderful walking tours that tell the history of allegedly haunted buildings in the French Quarter. If the weather’s nice, it’s a great way to spend an evening!

- Lafayette Cemetery No. 1 and St. Louis Cemetery No. 1Check out a cemetery while you’re there. They’re creepy and strangely beautiful. If you do go to Commander’s Palace, there’s a great one across the street!

HAVE ALL THE FUN. TELL MY CITY I MISS HER!!!!!  

[sciencespies]

The Powerful, Complicated Legacy of Betty Friedan's 'The Feminine Mystique'

https://sciencespies.com/history/the-powerful-complicated-legacy-of-betty-friedans-the-feminine-mystique/

The Powerful, Complicated Legacy of Betty Friedan's 'The Feminine Mystique'

Is it possible to address a “problem that has no name?” For Betty Friedan and the millions of American women who identified with her writing, addressing that problem would prove not only possible, but imperative.

In the acclaimed 1963 The Feminine Mystique, Friedan tapped into the dissatisfaction of American women. The landmark bestseller, translated into at least a dozen languages with more than three million copies sold in the author’s lifetime, rebukes the pervasive post-World War II belief that stipulated women would find the greatest fulfillment in the routine of domestic life, performing chores and taking care of children.

Her indelible first sentences would resonate with generations of women. “The problem lay buried, unspoken, for many years in the minds of American women. It was a strange stirring, a sense of dissatisfaction, a yearning that women suffered in the middle of the twentieth century in the United States.” Friedan’s powerful treatise appealed to women who were unhappy with their so-called idyllic life, addressing their discontent with the ingrained sexism in society that limited their opportunities.

Now a classic, Friedan’s book is often credited with kicking off the “second wave” of feminism, which raised critical interest in issues such as workplace equality, birth control and abortion, and women’s education.

The late Friedan, who died in 2006, would have celebrated her 100th birthday this month. At the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History, a tattered, well-read copy of The Feminine Mystique, gifted by former museum curator Patricia J. Mansfield, is secured in the nation’s collections of iconic artifacts. It was included in the museum’s exhibition titled “The Early Sixties: American Culture,” which was co-curated by Mansfield and graphic arts collection curator Joan Boudreau and ran from April 25, 2014 to September 7, 2015.

At the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery the 1995 Betty Friedan by Alice Matzkin depicts the reformer in a contemplative pose.

(NPG, © 1995 Alice Matzkin)

“One of the things that makes The Feminine Mystique resonant is that it’s a very personal story,” says the museum’s Lisa Kathleen Graddy, a curator in the division of political and military history. “It’s not a dry work. It’s not a scholarly work. . . it’s a very personal series of observations and feelings.”

While The Feminine Mystique spoke bold truth to white, college-educated, middle-class women, keeping house and raising children and dealing with a lack of fulfillment, it didn’t recognize the circumstances of other women. Black and LGBTQ feminists in the movement were largely absent from the pages of The Feminine Mystique and in her later work as a leading activist, prominent members of the feminist movement would come to clash with her beliefs and her quick temper. She would be criticized for moderate views amid a changing environment.

Her contributions, however, remain consequential. She was a co-founder and the first president of the National Organization for Women (NOW), and helped create both the National Women’s Political Caucus and the National Association for the Repeal of Abortion Laws, now known as NARAL Pro-Choice America. But her name is most tied to The Feminine Mystique, the book that pushed her and other discontented housewives into the American consciousness alongside the ongoing Civil Rights Movement.

Lisa Tetrault, an associate history professor at Carnegie Mellon University, emphasizes Friedan’s argument that women were being burdened by society’s notions of how they should live their lives. At the time, many women were privately experiencing, she says, “a feeling that the problem was theirs alone.”

“Part of what The Feminine Mystique did was shift this conversation from this individual analysis,” she says. Friedan’s book showed them a systemic analysis of how society was undermining women in order to keep them at home under the moniker “occupation: housewife.”

Historian and Smith College professor emeritus Daniel Horowitz, who authored the 1998 Betty Friedan and the Making of The Feminine Mystique: The American Left, the Cold War, and Modern Feminism also contextualizes the book at a time when other works were examining the restlessness of suburban life.

“She was, as a professional writer, acutely aware of these books and the impact they had,” he says. “It’s also a wonderfully written book with appeals on all sorts of levels. It’s an emotionally powerful book.”

Born Bettye Naomi Goldstein on February 4, 1921 in Peoria, Illinois, both of her parents were immigrants. Her Russian father Harry worked as a jeweler, and her Hungarian mother Miriam was a journalist who gave up the profession to start a family. She attended Smith College, a leading women’s institution, as a psychology student, where she began seeing social issues with a more radical perspective. She graduated in 1942 and began postgraduate work at the University of California, Berkeley. Friedan would end up abandoning her pursuit of a doctorate after being pressured by her boyfriend, and also left him before moving to New York’s Greenwich Village in Manhattan.

From there she began work in labor journalism. She served as an editor at The Federate Press news service, and then joined the UE News team, the publication of the United Electric, Radio and Machine Workers of America. Her activism for working class women in labor unions, which included African Americans and Puerto Ricans, is crucial, says Horowitz, toward understanding the formation of her feminism.

However, he adds that her public embrace of labor unions during the feminist movement did not occur until the later years of her life, and that The Feminine Mystique omits her early radicalism. “Her feminism in the 50s and 60s is very self-consciously based on the civil rights movement,” he says. “She thinks of NOW as an NAACP for American women.”

Betty married Carl Friedan in 1947, and the couple had three children. The family moved from Queens to New York’s Rockland County suburbs in 1956, and she took on the job of housewife while freelancing for women’s magazines to add to the family income.

It was at a Smith reunion where Friedan found inspiration for what would become The Feminine Mystique. Intending to survey her classmates who had worried that a college education would get in the way of raising a family, what she instead found was a lack of fulfillment among the housewives. Other college-educated women she interviewed shared those sentiments, and she found herself questioning her own life role in the process.

To create The Feminine Mystique, Friedan included both the experiences of women she talked with and her own perspectives. She set about to deconstruct myths on women’s happiness and their role in society. “Gradually, without seeing it clearly for quite a while,” Friedan wrote in the book’s preface, “I came to realize that something is very wrong with the way American women are trying to live their lives today.

Betty Friedan by Byron Dobell, 1999 is also among the reformer’s images held by the National Portrait Gallery.

(NPG, gift of the artist, Byron Dobell © 2000 Byron Dobell)

Even before it was created the book was contentious: the president of the publishing house referred to its premise as “overstated” and “provocative.” And while it caught flak from some reviewers—a New York Times review rejected its premise and stated that individuals, not culture, were to blame for their own dissatisfaction—it was a major hit for female readers.

“It was quite fantastic the effect it had,” Friedan later said in an interview with PBS, “It was like I put into words what a lot of women had been feeling and thinking, that they were freaks and they were the only ones.”

Following the success of her book, Friedan moved back to New York City with her family, and in 1966 helped establish NOW with colleagues. She and her husband divorced in 1969, just a year before she helped lead the Women’s Strike for Equality that brought thousands of supporters to the city’s Fifth Avenue.

She pushed the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission to end sex discrimination in workplace advertising, advocated for equal pay, and pressured changes to abortion laws, among others. Friedan also supported the Equal Rights Amendment, which failed to meet state ratification in 1982 but has since garnered renewed interest.

By the end of Friedan’s life, the movement had moved much farther than she had been able to keep up with. She had already been criticized by some feminists for a lack of attention to issues afflicting non-white, poor and lesbian women, and had made disparaging remarks toward the latter. When conservatives made cultural gains in the 1980s, she blamed radical members for causing it, denouncing them as anti-men and anti-family.

“One of the things that should come out of the women’s movement,” she told the Los Angeles Times, “is a sense of liberating and enriching ways of working out career and family life, and diverse ways of rearing our children and figuring out how to have a home and haven.”

Friedan had decidedly become a moderate voice among feminists, but nevertheless kept active. She served as a visiting professor at universities such as New York University and the University of Southern California, and in 2000 wrote her memoir Life So Far. In 2006 she passed away in Washington, D.C. on her 85th birthday.

Two canvas paintings depicting Betty Friedan are held by the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery. One in acrylic, created in 1995 by Alice Matzkin, shows the reformer looking to the side with her hand behind her head in a contemplative pose. The other, painted with oil in 1999, was donated by the artist Byron Dobell in 2000 and features Friedan focused on the viewer with a vague sense of interest.

Looking back on Friedan’s seminal book, The Feminine Mystique, its narrow scope is important to recognize. As Graddy notes, it focuses on the aspirations of certain white college-educated housewives, rather than women who were not white nor middle class, among others.

“[T]hese are women who also have the leisure time to organize,” Graddy says, “They have the leisure time to become the women who start to organize different facets of feminism, who can organize now, who have connections that they can make and time that they can expend.”

Kelly Elaine Navies, a museum specialist in oral history at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African American History and Culture, discusses the disconnect between The Feminine Mystique and black women of the time.

“It did not directly impact the African American community, as a large percentage of African American women worked outside of the home by necessity,” she writes in an email. “In fact, the prolific African American writer and activist, Pauli Murray, who was a co-founder of NOW, along with Freidan, did not even mention The Feminine Mystique in her memoir.”

The claim that The Feminine Mystique brought forward the “second wave” of feminism is also dubious. Not only is the characterization of waves misleading, as the calls made during different movements can overlap while individual waves feature competing beliefs, but as Graddy notes, the activism doesn’t simply fade when it receives less attention. She also mentions that describing the book as the beginning of the women’s movement only makes sense when applied to a certain group of feminists.

Tetrault says that The Feminine Mystique not only fails to discuss how the cultural expectations of the idealized housewife also afflicted non-white and poor women who could not hope to achieve that standard, but it also doesn’t provide meaningful structural solutions that would help women.

“In some ways Betty Friedan’s solution of just leaving home and going and finding meaningful work,” she says, “left all those structural problems that ungirded the labor that women provide through domesticity unaddressed, and that’s a huge problem.”

Even with the book’s flaws, it remains an important piece of history while having shaped the women’s movement. While Horowitz contends that a feminist movement still would have occurred without its publication, he says it nevertheless impacted the lives of hundreds of thousands of women.

And as Navies points out, the material it didn’t include caused black feminists to spread ideas that were more inclusive of American women in society, as they even formed their own term “womanist” to distinguish from the more exclusive “feminist.”

“In retrospect, as a catalyst for the second wave of feminism,” Navies writes, “The Feminist Mystique was a factor in the evolution of black feminism, in that black feminists were compelled to respond to the analysis it lacked and develop a theory and praxis of their own which confronted issues of race, class and gender.”

Tetrault adds that The Feminine Mystique’s message that societal constructs were harming women resonated throughout the whole of feminism.

“That would be a kind of realization, that would ripple through the movement on all kinds of different fronts. . . that the problem wasn’t them,” she says. “The problem was the set of cultural expectations and cultural structures around them.”

#History

[ganymedesclock]

Character Analysis: Keith

[ Shiro ] [ Lance ] [ Hunk ] [ Pidge ] [ Allura ] [ Coran ]

The last of the official paladins, and the last main character introduced on Earth. Some words on everyone’s favorite space changeling.

Official bios state that Keith was orphaned at a young age, but as of season 2, there are a lot of mysteries about his early life. What we do have, is that he was at least old enough to clearly remember his father when that individual left, and use of language in Keith’s dream in s2e9 would tell us that this person would seem to have disappeared, not that he died.

The rest of Keith’s history before the Garrison can be inferred from what is not mentioned, rather than what is- logically as a child without parents or guardians, Keith would be placed in the foster care system. However, he wouldn’t continue to be an orphan if he were simply adopted to a family and stayed there.

Family is something very meaningful to Keith. Seemingly, the closest thing to a familial presence he has right now is the team- mostly Shiro, who he’s had the most experience with. If there were other people at the Garrison that Keith connected with- it would seem that Commander Iverson thought very highly of him- he lost contact with them upon being expelled.

It’s very likely that Keith thus moved around the system fairly frequently. Possibly, moving around the US itself- while Keith’s father has a noticeable southern accent, this is not a trait Keith obviously shares- even though he presumably learned how to speak from his father. This might suggest he’s lived in many places, and over time the accent he might’ve inherited from his father would’ve faded away.

Connect and disconnect

The implications of Keith’s history and his living situation at the beginning of the series point heavily to someone for whom isolation has been a major piece of his life. Not being alone in the sense of bereft of people, but bereft of meaningful connections. And in fact, when Voltron is confronted by the idea of losing one of their number- Pidge threatening to leave the team- it is Keith who is outraged by the very idea, and- considering how he folds in afterwards- very hurt by it.

But not every disappearance is equal to Keith. There’s a very specific context Keith reacts to, and the trial of marmora unabashedly frames this as his greatest fear: 

Keith is afraid of people choosing to leave him. Of no longer wanting him around. And what’s especially noticeable about it is that as much as the idea terrifies him, and as diligent as Keith can otherwise be in the pursuit of his goals- when faced with rejection, Keith is often very resigned in response. He’s terrified of it, he’ll fight it if he thinks that he can- but if that doesn’t work or he doesn’t feel like he can fight the situation in the first place- an ordinarily very driven individual will often just sort of roll over and take it.

This doesn’t just tell us that Keith is afraid of losing people. It tells us that in his experience, he has often been completely helpless to stop people from walking out of his life- to the point that confronted with a novel situation, there’s something of a pall of futility over his responses. That Keith’s first obvious loss (his father) is stated to have happened when he was very young, and may have been preceded by losing his mother even younger, would tell us that this was a very formative context.

Especially because Keith’s memory of his father is an incredibly gentle person- seeming to genuinely care about Keith and want to keep him safe, to the point that during the dream, there is the implication that Keith’s father is trying to personally protect him from the oncoming juggernaut of the Empire. What Keith remembers of his father is soft and reassuring, which suggests that his disappearance was one keenly felt.

The fact that this has repeated throughout Keith’s life is a particular misfortune in that it seems the main explanation Keith believes about why people leave him is that it’s his fault. This is the main difference between when he responds with fury (towards Pidge) and passive surrender (towards Allura)- Pidge’s reason for leaving has nothing to do with Keith and everything to do with finding her family- which she prioritizes over Voltron. Allura’s reason for turning a cold shoulder- a much more subdued reaction- has to do with Keith, specifically, and Keith’s response is basically to fold up into a ball and refuse to engage the subject.

This is also rather painfully illustrated in Ark of Taujeer. While both Keith and Allura prepare to leave the team when they suspect they’re endangering everyone- Allura doesn’t pack her bags. Keith does. Clearly suggesting that unlike Allura, who wants to test if the fleet comes after her and is confident in her ability to escape if it’s true- Keith fully expected to leave the team permanently. He even suggests as much when they’re talking about what they’re going to do if the fleet does come: Keith asks if they could really go back knowing Zarkon is tracking them.

A very likely history of being shuffled from house to house, and losing the chance to have any kind of stable foundation- has left Keith with a deep held idea that if he is a burden on the team they will leave him. As seen in practice, comparing Keith’s vision of Shiro during the trial to how Shiro actually responds- this is not a fear built by the team. It’s a fear that predates them.

The survivalist’s instinct

Another thing that Keith’s unsteady relationship with stability has done is that it has allowed for the cultivation of one of his main virtues as the Red Paladin- the concept of “fly by feel”. Effectively, thrown into any situation, Keith shuts his horizons to a kind of tunnel vision- feet to the ground, goal in front of him- run for it. He is excellent at reacting quickly and staying focused- but, as can be observed by his interactions with Lance in the Balmera, complex strategy is not Keith’s forte in the heat of the moment.

Conversely, in a situation where there are only seconds to spare and you have to respond now or lose everything, Keith excels. This is why, for example, he’s the one to send in if you have to navigate a chaotic asteroid field with hair-trigger reflexes. When he sets his attention on chasing a single goal, he can be very effective at identifying what he needs and pulling it off very specifically, and when in a situation where he does have time to strategize, we can see that he’s actually on par with Lance (creating a diversion to distract the Garrison guards by rigging explosives and detonating them when Lance reached the same conclusion that a distraction was what they’d need to sneak in)

Another, noteworthy side of this is, since Keith has a very do-or-die attitude about how he makes decisions, his solutions tend to not be the most finessed. Or necessarily noble. “We’re facing a bunch of guns and there is no quick way out of this situation but we have a hostage.” He’s inclined to suggesting- and sometimes acting on- what’s the pragmatic approach over what’s the ideal approach. 

What we see from Keith in his shack is that even at his worst, he has what can be summarized as a stubborn determination to keep going, and has cultivated a lot of small skills in general categories (s2e2, Shiro and Keith are at a kind of roughly established campsite with a fire, and considering the extent of Shiro’s injuries at the time, it’s safe to say Keith did the vast majority of that). Living in a shed in the desert without running water was relatively easy for Keith- to the point that he reflects on it as a peaceful, comfortable time.

It tells us that in terms of surroundings, Keith is easy to please- but also that as much as isolation has colored his history, he’s used to being his own line of defense. It’s very easy to mistake Keith as the stereotypical hotshot “lancer” character in an ensemble piece who’s too cool for friendship and teamwork but gets by on natural talent- when in fact Keith welcomes the opportunity to work with people. He’s just overwhelmingly used to being alone- to not having other people he can rely on, and so his reflex is to respond to problems as best as he can on his own.

Effectively- Keith is out of practice with teamwork and having other people around him, and this has been an adjustment for him- though not a joyless one.

Oh god how do I people skills

The other other side to Keith’s personal history of isolation, and I think simply a degree of how Keith is, is that when Keith really opens up to someone, he’s very clumsy about it. Particularly with unexpected intimacy or warm sentiments from other people, he tends to freeze up or get a kind of deer-in-the-headlights look.

On the one hand, this is something he’s been yearning for basically his entire life. We can see that when he’s not caught off-guard by them, such gestures mean the world to him. On the other, when, say, suddenly swiped into a hug by Hunk, as much as Keith enjoys it, his initial response is to go stiff and sort of cautiously joke about it afterwards. 

I think that Keith is very aware that he’s not the best at socializing, and a little defensive about it. He is, sometimes, reluctant to engage for fear of how it will be received- we can see that if he isn’t sure how to proceed with a particularly uncomfortable conversation, as I mentioned before- he tends to fold inwards.

So it creates this very contradictory picture of Keith. At his most comfortable, Keith is sentimental, cares deeply about the people who’ve established to him- a little clingy, even, but someone who can even lighten up and be fun, crack jokes and carry a conversation.

Other times, he can come across very standoffish, partially out of awkwardness, but partially because he’s so used to being in his own space that much of his idea of how to be close to others is to hover in the general area- do whatever you’d do alone, but with other people there. There’s also the fact that Keith is fairly introverted- it’s easy for him to get sucked into and spend a long time caught up in his own thoughts.

(It’s telling that Shiro, who knows Keith the best at this point, has learned to identify Keith being unusually quiet as a sign that it’s time to check on him)

At the same time, Keith is smart. He’s not oblivious. He knows that it’s hard for him to get nuances of socialization- that he really hasn’t had a lot of friends in his time and it’s very obvious, and that despite having quite a sense of his own sarcasm he can miss others’ inflections, and that furthers, I think, a kind of defensive attitude. Rejection is a very sensitive topic to Keith and a bit like Pidge, he’s kind of shored up his defenses against the idea even when it isn’t exactly forthcoming.

Hidden sides

Both of the arm pilots arguably have a relationship with hiding. With Pidge, it’s a matter of deliberate obfuscation- she will use her own illusions, consciously and actively, to penetrate others. You can’t hide anything from her, but she can hide from you.

What’s interesting about Keith is that there’s a lot of hidden things for Keith- but these things are hidden from him about himself.

It’s made very clear in s1e1, and seems to be at play again in s1e10, that Keith is personally tuned into some kind of esoteric awareness that the rest of the team does not have. He was able to know Shiro was coming before the pod arrived, and during his year in the desert, he was “called” to the location of the Blue Lion. We also actively see him intuit the location of Red.

However... when Keith tries to explain what he’s found, what he knows, which has yielded a lot of accurate information, one of the first things he can say about something he’s clearly sunk a huge amount of effort into trying to understand is “I can’t explain it, really.”

Keith and Pidge both, to a degree, have a narrative about looking for family, and looking for answers. But unlike Pidge, who’s so certain of herself and her tools, Keith doesn’t really know what his tools are. He doesn’t even know what questions to ask. All he has is this powerful, insistent sense something is out there or going to happen.

And part of this is the other lasting effect of Keith’s separation from his own history- the part that doesn’t really have anything to do with isolation. It’s that Keith is missing huge pieces of context integral to understanding who he is.

Weapons in the series are used, heavily, to inform about the character. The bayard literally takes a shape tailored to the wielder. And the most tangible piece of Keith’s history that he has, besides himself- is a weapon that until very recently has been dormant, not in its true form- and even that dormant form has its main identifying mark hidden from view.

This is a reflection of Keith’s relationship with himself. On the one hand- his pragmatism has made him utilize everything he has with him, because nothing else will be forthcoming. He knows it’s there- it always has been. But he doesn’t understand it, and that context is holding him back from his potential. He can be more, and do more- but only with an understanding that he’s been cheated of.

And this, I think, reflects one of Keith’s struggles. Because the arm pilots are both the side of Voltron that engages with the world- the active, information-gathering. But Pidge’s tools are specific, external, and unbiased in every regard except what direction she points them in and how she sets her net.

Keith’s are all internal, nebulous, and incredibly undefined, to the point that Keith doesn’t realize they’re there or know to utilize them. If he could reliably tap into the same source that let him know Shiro was headed towards Earth, then team Voltron could find Shiro now. If he doesn’t need specific contact with that individual, he might even be able to help Pidge find the Holts. This is a tremendous potential resource.

But he’s held back, because no one has been there to explain this to him. Because Keith, arguably- is still in the state of the wrapped-up knife. He doesn’t know his true form and true potential. Hints of it maybe. 

Stability and loyalty

Another point of similarity between Keith and Pidge is that they are not driven by purely academic pursuits. For both of them, their real driving quest is comfort. Pidge’s family has been the center of her world, and she wants that back. Keith- arguably has never really had a stable center bigger than himself. Even Shiro, seemingly one of the most powerful stabilizing presences in Keith’s life since the loss of his father (since those are the two figures the trial picks to challenge him)- Shiro’s presence has been inconsistent by no fault of his own.

(thanks, Galra empire)

So at present- I think that Keith is very conflicted. On the one hand, part of him really wants to hope that Voltron is an enduring thing. That maybe he’s finally got somewhere to think of as home, something like a family. And on the other hand- that’s terrifying, because they’re in the middle of a war zone and an entire intergalactic space empire and the gaping unknowns in his own history seem to be actively trying to tear that away from him.

This incredibly conflicting sentiment can lead to some even more contradictory behavior out of Keith- how he’s the one who didn’t want to go after Allura, but also was the one who personally bull-rushed Zarkon to try and protect the rest of the team and repeatedly refused to listen to Coran telling him how outmatched he was.

I’ve talked before about Zarkon’s comment that Keith “fights like a galra”, especially considering s2e6 and Morvok’s men who resolutely set themselves to die for the cause and are executed by the imperfect Blazing Sword.

Zarkon isn’t praising Keith for being vicious, he’s praising the fact that to a degree- Keith is committing to being a sacrifice. It doesn’t matter if he’s safe, it doesn’t matter if he has no chance of beating Zarkon- what matters is that as long as they’re fighting Zarkon can’t get to the downed Black Lion.

Keith is also, as people have pointed out, the one person who insistently repeats that the Black Bayard is Shiro’s every time he brings it up. And that solo brawl between him and Zarkon is a much louder declaration of that- you have no business going anywhere near the Black Lion.

As rocky as it is for Keith to connect with people, once he does, he is nothing if not incredibly tenacious on that person’s behalf.

Prodigy or problem

Interestingly, despite how much Keith is talked up as the best pilot of the class, I’ve mentioned his prodigy status very little here. While I think it does affect him to some degree...

Mostly, he knows he’s smart, but at the same time is confronted with knowing that some things (such as socialization) that others consider “obvious” are completely in the dark to him, and he’s kind of defensive about that

...to a large degree I don’t know if Keith really registers himself as someone who is talented in the way that Shiro and Pidge do- with high expectations being a strong element of their background. Because again, with Keith’s history of being often shuffled around, it’s very likely that rather than “prodigy, full of potential” what he’s been most likely getting is “problem child, probably not going to amount to much”

Keith is not especially temperamental- but his desire to cut to a working solution as quickly as possible, combined with a general difficulty expressing himself, means that his frustrations are usually not answered. What basically boils down to a moderately short temper is exacerbated by a stormy internal landscape and a tendency to be stewing in one uncomfortable thought or another.

Basically, Keith seems super explosive, but overwhelmingly, this is an artificially induced state and is usually a testament to the fact that if something is bothering him, he will almost never speak up about it directly on his own. (Because he’s very scared of being “too needy” and alienating people). But it’s very likely, in a context where people have rarely been in touch with him for a long period of time, that Keith comes across as an emotional hurricane.

Effectively, Keith’s is a fire that tends to smolder in the underbrush a long time before it ever burns the forest down- and in the past, it seems like Shiro was the main person to actually check under the surface and see what’s burning in the depths.

But the image Keith has most likely internalized of himself is not the awesome pilot that Lance and Iverson both seem to look to him as- but the “discipline issue”. And that builds another level of frustration, because if he explodes, he’s just proving everyone right, and he seems to disappoint people a lot from his perspective. Even the awareness that he is talented, that he does have things to be good at- those high expectations that Pidge and Shiro have both matched most of their lives would seem very out of reach for Keith, much more so after he lost Shiro and then was expelled from the Garrison, probably the only people that have ever told him that.

Because when confronted with the idea that someone was jealous of him, Keith’s response is pretty much utter bafflement. And when Keith and Lance are actually interacting in close quarters- Keith picks up the rivalry in about as much earnestness as Lance does, which would suggest that Keith might well see Lance as someone to be jealous of just as much as Lance envies Keith.

And why wouldn’t he? People like Lance. Lance is the person who plants himself in the middle of social environments and makes five friends in the time Keith is still sort of hovering hopefully in someone’s general vicinity. Lance, who has a huge family and a really clear idea of home as a specific place and people to come back to.

This, I think, is a very significant angle to Keith realizing he has galra heritage that is often not explored- is the idea that this is not a transformation narrative, it’s a narrative of self-discovery. It’s Keith putting a name to a problem he’s already been dealing with, and this fits with what I said before- that when Allura was angry with him, Keith’s whole reaction suggested that he felt like he deserved it.

Because the revelation that Keith has alien heritage and history basically would just cement a lot of Keith’s fears all along. That maybe the reason why he’s never had a good lasting connection is because he doesn’t even belong here, because he’s fundamentally unlike the people around him- and that difference carries with it a very bad impression. As much as the series is showing us a more multifaceted view of the galra as a species, their first and strongest impression is Zarkon and his empire.

This is why Keith hasn’t immediately jumped on the chance for those answers Kolivan promised if he succeeded the trial- is so far, the first one that’s come forwards has offered him no reassurance or comfort. 

No Subterfuge At All

It’s worth mentioning, as much as I talked about how Keith and Pidge are similar, that in contrast to Pidge who was able to fabricate her own identity, Keith is a bad liar.

Keith is an awful liar.

Thematically this ties very much into the fact that Keith has an incredibly intuitive sense of truth. When his channels are open he can just know something is going to happen or that something is important. But this relationship is so visceral, and he has no real sense of knowing how people hide something- that basically the only way Keith can hide something is if he actively and entirely removes himself from a situation, or just manages to avoid anyone asking about it.

Because as soon as someone does... well, look at how fast Allura was able to unravel why he was around the pods in s2e6.

That scene in particular actually shows us entirely outside of not having a poker face, Keith is someone who if he is trying to bluff about something he will in fact progressively shoot himself in the foot the longer he’s still talking.

In summary

Having been isolated most of his life, Keith is deeply insecure of, but also needy about interpersonal relationships. He’s very introverted, which can make him self-sufficient, but it also can cause him to stew over time in worries or doubts until something sets that off. Unlike Shiro and Pidge, he likely does not see himself nearly so much as promising or a prodigy.

Much of Keith’s sense of self is on shaky ground or underdeveloped due to being bereft of huge pieces of information about himself and how he operates.

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Welcome to FiveThirtyEight’s weekly politics chat. The transcript below has been lightly edited.

sarahf (Sarah Frostenson, politics editor): Welcome, everyone, to a special debate-focused preview edition of our weekly politics chat!! In recent weeks, we’ve talked a lot about the different strategies the candidates should use on the debate stage, who the lineup is good for (and who it’s bad for) and whether the field might be consolidating around a handful of candidates.

So today, let’s have a little fun with the question of candidate debate strategy and play a game of buy/sell/hold with PredictIt prop bets (plus some I made up). We checked the prices (given in cents) of a bunch of propositions at noon Eastern on Tuesday and then translated those prices into probabilities. (We know that’s not exactly right, but it’s close enough.)

And in case you forgot how to play buy/sell/hold:

Buy means: “I think the chances of this happening are higher than indicated.”

Sell means: “I think they’re lower.”

Hold means: “I’m a coward and am unwilling to take a stand.”

OK, let’s start with a

spicy

proposition. Buy, sell or hold: Elizabeth Warren will win the 2020 presidential Democratic nomination? (33 percent)

nrakich (Nathaniel Rakich, elections analyst): I am bullish on Warren overall, but I still think it’s a pretty open race. I’ll sell on Warren — I think her chances are a bit lower than 33 percent.

clare.malone (Clare Malone, senior political writer): I’ll buy! If only for the argument. I think that Warren is a secure bet in this race and that she’s the only candidate who’s seen steady, significant gains. That’s gotta count for something.

I also think that she’ll pick up establishment-leaning voters as the race goes on and other people drop out — or at the very least, she’s one of a few arms that establishment-leaning types will want to fall into.

natesilver (Nate Silver, editor in chief): I’m boarding a plane, so my answers will be brief at best. Warren’s somewhere between a hold and a sell. And 33 percent is a lot, given where her position in the polls is. That price puts a lot of weight on subjective vs. objective impressions, in other words. I happen to share those subjective impressions, i.e. my “gut” says Warren is a very strong candidate. However, I’ve been doing this long enough to know that my gut is usually full of shit.

clare.malone: NATE’S ON A PLANE

geoffrey.skelley (Geoffrey Skelley, elections analyst): If Biden’s chances are, say, 40 percent based on his standing in polls from the first half of the year, that leaves like 60 percent for everyone else. Does Warren have a bit more than half of that? I’m skeptical of that so I’ll sell — for now.

ameliatd (Amelia Thomson-DeVeaux, senior writer): I think I’m somewhere between a buy and a hold? (Outing myself immediately as a quasi-coward.)

clare.malone: Lol, it’s fine Amelia — I’m a little less wedded to the strict odds of this. I’m more going on the gut that Nate speaks of and strength on the ground, etc.

ameliatd: Warren’s growth has been impressive. And she stands to gain as the field narrows. It seems like she might be starting to overcome some voters’ worries about nominating a woman, too? Which would be big, if so.

natesilver: I mean Biden is way too low in these markets, so if you’re saying Warren has a 33 percent chance or higher, you’re saying it’s basically a two-horse race. Which, maybe?

clare.malone: I don’t think that’s crazy, Nate.

Not a lot of people are super bullish on Sanders right now.

And Harris is slipping in the polls.

So … it’s not totally nuts to go with the idea that it COULD potentially be a Biden-Warren showdown.

sarahf: Bernie is in third at 14 percent, but that’s a distant third behind Warren (33 percent) and Biden (26 percent) over at PredictIt.

natesilver: If Warren got into the low 20s in national polls instead of the high teens, I might feel more comfy with that. That tends to be a big inflection point. Being in the 20s in a multi-way race is serious business.

nrakich: Harris still has a lot of untapped potential, IMO.

ameliatd: I don’t know, Nathaniel. My “buy” sentiments for Warren are probably contingent on Harris not pulling it together. But based on how her summer went, that seems increasingly plausible. Like, at some point your untapped potential needs to start turning into actual gains.

geoffrey.skelley: I know I said I sell on Warren, but I can certainly see her winning heavily-white Iowa and New Hampshire, building up — Nate’s favorite word — “momentum” and going on to win the nomination.

And that’s the tough thing about this — the sequential nature of the primary means we can look at the national polls and early-state polls, but the moment Iowa happens, that will influence what happens in New Hampshire, and so on.

sarahf: Speaking of Iowa and New Hampshire … Warren has a 35 percent chance in Iowa and a 34 percent chance in New Hampshire … does that change anyone’s wager? The markets do give Biden a 48 percent chance in South Carolina, though, and Warren only a 14 percent shot.

nrakich: I think that 35 percent in Iowa is considerably closer to reality. I think her odds of winning Iowa are higher than her odds of winning the nomination writ large.

She has an excellent ground game, which could help her in a low-turnout, activist-driven caucus state like Iowa.

And she has performed better in Iowa polls than national ones so far.

geoffrey.skelley: There are 26 days between Iowa and South Carolina and 18 days between New Hampshire and South Carolina. That’s A LOT of time for the “Biden’s a loser” theme to permeate things if he can’t win either Iowa or New Hampshire. Nevada, as it’s worth reiterating, is BEFORE South Carolina, which could maybe help him. But the Silver State is a bit of a black box.

natesilver: I’d buy on Warren in IA/NH. There should be more of a spread in these markets between her Iowa price and her nomination price. The fact that there isn’t proves these markets are kinda dumb.

ameliatd: That underscores my very definitive wager of “somewhere between a hold and a buy.” She’s doing well in Iowa and New Hampshire — which is why I would say her chances are better than you might think if you just look at the national polls.

clare.malone: Warren is going to have an easier time in those very white first two states — Biden, for a number of reasons, enjoys an advantage with black voters in South Carolina, which is pretty much how you win that state.

But Warren’s campaign was one of the two or three campaigns that people in South Carolina talked about as being strong in voter outreach. Even a lot of pro-Biden people there told me they liked her. So, I could see momentum or winning in IA and NH upping her odds in South Carolina and then perhaps in other southern states where black voters are key.

But that probably involves Biden faltering so she becomes more dominant — or doing something that finally sticks as a criticism.

natesilver: If you had a market for “will the Iowa winner win the nomination?” I’d probably be a seller of it.

Like, I think it would be priced at 70 percent when it should be priced at 50 or something.

The Democratic electorate used to be a lot whiter and have a lot more caucuses, so Iowa used to be a lot more representative.

But Iowa is no longer a good representation of the overall Democratic electorate right now.

geoffrey.skelley: Oh definitely, but if Warren wins Iowa and New Hampshire, I bet she’ll be polling better in Nevada and South Carolina than she is right now.

Also, keep in mind, Bill Clinton is the only recent nominee of a major party not to win one of the first two states, although that is complicated by the fact that no one really contested Iowa in 1992 because Iowa Sen. Tom Harkin was running.

sarahf: Interestingly though, the betting markets seem less bullish on Warren winning the presidency. Buy, sell or hold: President Trump wins the 2020 presidential election? (41 percent)

natesilver: Lol I’m not touching that question.

ameliatd: Wow, Sarah, you really went there!

clare.malone: I give a hold on that.

I truly don’t know where things stand.

There are a lot of plausible arguments to be made that Democrats come out of the nomination fight irritated at each other and unhappy with their candidate, and there’s less enthusiasm on Election Day.

nrakich: I’ll hold. Forty-one percent sounds right. Close to 50-50, as we are amid an era of close presidential elections. But every indicator right now, from his dropping approval rating to polls of the generic ballot to special elections to early general-election polls that you probably shouldn’t trust, indicates it’s a Democratic-leaning environment, so I’m willing to make a 9-point concession to that.

clare.malone: On the other hand, it could very well be a different ballgame from ’16, and people ARE really motivated to turn out against Trump, no matter who the Democratic nominee is, and the Democrats prevail against a GOP Electoral College advantage in a high-turnout election on both sides??

ameliatd: I would also say hold just because there are so many unknowns. A recent Pew poll found that most Democrats are excited by several 2020 candidates, not just their top choice, so maybe that’s good news for Democrats if it helps insulate voter enthusiasm against a potentially long and bruising primary? But I’m not sure.

geoffrey.skelley: Yeah, my feelings are similar to Nathaniel’s, though you could also make the case that 41 percent is too low for an incumbent president in a closely-divided country. So I’d say hold or maybe buy.

natesilver: He’s not much of an incumbent. He barely won last time. And the track record of incumbents who barely won is not so hot.

sarahf: And as Nathaniel mentioned, his presidential approval number seems to be

(his approval rating is still above 40 percent though).

geoffrey.skelley: But his approval has about as good a chance of going up again as going down in the long run — it’s been remarkably steady overall.

natesilver: That isn’t good news for Trump, though, because he probably needs his approval rating to improve for him to win reelection.

clare.malone: Nate’s not touching this, though.

natesilver: Like it’s not good news when your weight is steady if you weigh 300 pounds.

clare.malone: It could be good news if you’re 7 feet tall.

geoffrey.skelley: A BMI discussion is what we need here.

clare.malone: Clare googles “what does LeBron weigh?”

sarahf: OK … let’s pivot back to the 2020 Democratic primary. We’ve talked about where people stand on Warren’s chances of winning the nomination, and as a result where Biden or Sanders stand — but what about some of the lower polling candidates like, say, Kamala Harris? Markets put her at 10 percent. Buy, sell, hold?

ameliatd: I am not especially bullish on Harris, but that seems a little low to me. I’d say buy?

nrakich: I’m definitely buying on Harris — I think her chances are significantly higher than 10 percent.

Harris still has the potential to appeal to multiple wings of the Democratic Party — especially two very influential wings in college-educated whites and black voters. I also think her prosecutorial background means she has several good debates left in her.

geoffrey.skelley: As for Harris, I think I’d buy there just based on potential. It may be unrealized so far, but it’s still there, whether she ends up being Marco Rubio 2.0 or not.

sarahf: What about Pete Buttigieg, at 5 percent? Buy, sell, hold?

clare.malone: What the hell, sell. I do not think he has a good chance. Maybe an Iowa win? Maybe?

nrakich: I’d buy Buttigieg at 5 percent, but I think it’s a closer call than Harris.

clare.malone: I think that the markets are incredibly sensitive to the narratives of the news cycle.

So, the fact that Harris had a purportedly shitty back half of the summer, means that her odds go waaaay down — too low.

natesilver: Y’all should actually add everyone chances up because I bet you’d be at like 130 percent.

You can’t be a buy on everyone.

clare.malone: Nate, you’re not even participating fully!

Peanut Gallery!!

natesilver: The best way to participate is half-assedly.

clare.malone: Also, close read: People have sold.

sarahf: OK, so we’ve talked about some of the leading contenders for winning the nomination — Warren, Biden and Sanders. And we’ve talked about Harris, whom the markets seem a bit bearish on. But setting those candidates aside, what about the rest of the debaters? Andrew Yang is at 11 percent (insert Yang Gang joke) while everyone is at 10 percent (Harris) or lower. Would you buy any of the other candidates on Thursday night’s stage? Or sell them all?

natesilver: I’m probably the most bullish on Yang of any of the election-analyst-types, and I think that price is kind of insane and a discredit to PredictIt tbh.

geoffrey.skelley: Definitely sell on Yang at that mark. Buttigieg is harder because he, too, has potential and a lot of resources given his fundraising. But he really needs to win Iowa or finish 2nd, maybe 3rd there to be in the mix, and I’m struggling to see how that happens with the other candidates in the field — so I’ll sell him, too.

clare.malone: I’m bullish on Cory Booker, though not incredibly so (and I do remain, sadly, sensitive to Nate’s buying spree comment).

I think that Booker has the same kind of coalition-building potential — very much unrealized yet — but I think he’s probably worth being slightly-higher-valued? I think he’s investing on the ground and could have an appeal to white voters in Iowa, and if he did decently, proving his mettle there, black voters in South Carolina or Hispanic voters in Nevada might see him as more electable?

nrakich: At 2 percent, I’d be willing to buy a few of these names just because you don’t have much to lose.

I will probably get ridiculed for this, but I think Beto O’Rourke still could have something left in the tank. There’s a reason he caught fire in Texas last year — he’s a charismatic, appealing guy — and he has been holding a ton of campaign events.

ameliatd: Here’s my problem with this lower tier. A lot of these candidates have potential upside — but mainly if one or more of the higher-polling candidates stumble. That certainly seems to be the case with someone like Booker. So how much do you bake in the possibility of another candidate falling apart?

nrakich: I am also bullish on Booker, Clare, but it looks like PredictIt is too — he’s a bit higher than all the other lower-tier candidates, at 4 percent.

natesilver: If one of the front-runners stumble, wouldn’t one of the other front-runners benefit?

geoffrey.skelley: Yes, I agree with Clare and Amelia. Booker definitely could be there to pick up the pieces if Harris slides, so I’d buy at that price.

natesilver: But Harris is in 4th place now. Which pieces is he picking up?

sarahf: Yeah, I think it’s becoming increasingly harder for some of the candidates like Booker, Amy Klobuchar or O’Rourke to see any gains.

nrakich: Sarah, I think that is obviously literally true, in that every day that passes is one fewer day until the primaries. But I still think there are several months and several opportunities to stand out (e.g., debates) left.

natesilver: I’m bullish on Booker’s odds of finishing in 3rd place. I’d pay 10 percent for that.

sarahf: I keep coming back to Julián Castro, who had a strong moment in the first debate and saw a big jump in his favorability ratings and name recognition as a result, but then nothing in the polls.

ameliatd: But I’d put Castro’s chances higher than O’Rourke’s right now (if I’m choosing between the Texans). Maybe I’m wrong and O’Rourke will wow everyone in the debate … but his performances have been super snoozy so far.

clare.malone: I think Castro suffers from not being a national figure. He hasn’t had the same kind of grist as the senators have during the Trump years, and O’Rourke, his home-state rival, really crowded him out in the roll-out department.

nrakich: Yeah, I agree with Sarah that if Castro was going to make his move, he would have done it already, as he performed quite well in the first two debates.

To me, he suffers from inconsistency. He was great in the debates, but I thought he was really flat in the latest CNN town hall.

clare.malone: In the end, no one remembers who he is. The twin thing doesn’t help either …

NEVER TRUST A TWIN.

natesilver: I’d just say I have about 15 percent total to give out at most for everyone who’s not in the top 4. I’m not sure how I’d distribute that 15 percent, but it’s not a ton of wealth to go around.

nrakich: Yeah, I’m definitely splitting hairs — who cares if O’Rourke has a 5 percent chance instead of a 2 percent chance.

natesilver: FiveThirtyEight readers do!

ameliatd: Hair-splitting is what it’s all about, Nathaniel! Lean into it!

natesilver: And 20:1 vs 50:1 is a nontrivial difference

sarahf: OK, what about the candidates not on the stage? Lest we forget, Tom Steyer has made the October debate … but does that really change anything in your mind regarding who wins the nomination? My guess is maybe not … so here’s a buy/sell/hold I made up — Warren, Biden, Sanders, Harris don’t win the nomination (5 percent).

nrakich: I’d buy that, Sarah. As I said, there’s still a lot of time left, and several more debates where someone like O’Rourke or Booker or Castro could have their moment. I think Biden, Warren, Sanders and Harris are by far the most-likely nominees, but I wouldn’t be gobsmacked if it’s someone else.

clare.malone: I really don’t think anyone is going to have a moment who hasn’t already.

geoffrey.skelley: I think I would cautiously buy that. It’s obviously very likely that the nominee will be one of those four, but we’re still nearly five months out from Iowa so things could shift.

clare.malone: Call me a cynic, call me a stinker, but if you haven’t really started to prove you’ve got the potential for a coalition by mid-September … sorry, but it’s curtains.

nrakich: Clare, you’re the one who always says it’s early!

clare.malone: RIght, but now it’s September — people outside the top 4 or 5 have no shot.

And that’s the scope of this q.

natesilver: I mean I just said I think it’s a 15 percent chance on the high end. Maybe it’s more like 10 or 12. But definitely higher than 5. Five percent isn’t a lot!

nrakich: By this point in the 2012 Republican cycle, Herman Cain, Newt Gingrich and Rick Santorum all had yet to have their “moment.”

sarahf: President Cain was such a good president.

clare.malone: heh heh

natesilver: I don’t think this race has much to do with 2012. The frontrunners are a much more robust group than Romney alone was.

And to Sarah’s snarky comment … all those candidates lost anyway!

ameliatd: I guess the way I’d think about it is — what are the odds that some series of events manages to tank the chances of all four of those candidates? That seems quite unlikely to me.

natesilver: Yeah it’s like being five games behind but in 5th place in the MLB wild card standings. #sports

Doesn’t seem like you’re that far behind, but it’s unlikely that everyone else gets cold.

geoffrey.skelley: I think everyone wants every cycle to be like 2012 because it was exciting and messy. Also because who can forget Gingrich and Cain having a “Lincoln-Douglas” debate? But yeah, I don’t think you’re going to see a collapse of all those candidates.

ameliatd: And it’s not like if Warren suddenly starts slipping, Buttigieg or one of the lower-polling candidates will grab her supporters.

I think there’s room for movement — but mostly within that upper tier.

nrakich: Nate, you had to turn this chat into a dig at the Mets.

[alwaysanotherooc]

Sean and Ken for the break the ships down thing?

 YES. FINALLY. AN ASK ABOUT MY BEAUTIFUL OTP. This took forever for me to do, and it’s so LONG OMG. Find it underneath the cut!Send me a Choices couple and I’ll break down their relationship!

How did they meet? On the plane to La Huerta, Ken stood up as Sean was walking back from the bathroom and blurted at him, “I HAD A DREAM ABOUT YOU.” And Ken was just so cute, dark hair mussed from sleep and a crease line on his cheek but his eyes…there was something about them that just enraptured Sean, so he smiled and flirted with him. Later, they like to tell people that they met because of a plane crash. Jake doesn’t appreciate that they tell it like that.

Who developed romantic feelings first? Sean. Pretty much from the moment Ken opened his mouth Sean was gone on this boy. Then in the observatory, lit up by the projections of galaxies and supernovas, Sean knew he’d never seen anything so beautiful, and he never would again. Ken’s been proving him wrong ever since.

Who is their biggest “shipper?” KUAN-YU CRAIG HSIAO AND DIEGO RICARDO ORTIZ SOTO

When did they have their first kiss and under what circumstances? They had their first kiss while sinking to their deaths in the oceans surrounding La Huerta, the sea monster still roaring somewhere else in the ocean, the water growing colder and colder but it couldn’t touch them while wrapped around each other.

Who confessed their feelings first? Ken did, technically, the morning Sean was going to set out for the Observatory alone, he said that he couldn’t lose Sean. He also said some other things but Sean literally can’t remember anything else for a couple minutes after that. 

What was their first official date? Their first ‘official’ date happens once they get back from the island, Ken takes Sean out to the vineyard near his house.

How do they feel about double dates/group dates? They both like to do group dates because ever since the island every single one of them kind of low-key (high-key) hates not being around each other.

What do they do in their down time? Sean likes to play Fifa with Craig or do Spa days with the girls, Ken likes to do theory sessions over various media forms he and Diego consume, especially The Crown and The Flame.

What was the first meeting of parents as an official couple like? Ken has not and will never meet Sean’s dad. Ever. He has met Sean’s mom and his other family members, who were unsure what to think about Ken at first, but after seeing just how clearly the two of them love one another they were all for it. Sean met Kella and Kessa and his Tio Grant and Tia Sofia almost the minute they got back to the States. Kella was LIVID that Ken hadn’t called her even once and Kessa was worried sick too. As the three siblings stood yelling at each other on the tarmac, Tia Sofia and Tio Grant got to know Sean and instantly knew from the way his eyes lingered on Ken that the two of them were in love. Kella took a month to get used to the idea that Ken had a boyfriend, as Kella doesn’t trust men in general, but she loves Sean like he’s her own son. Kessa was so happy for them both she nearly cried, and in a later novel of hers, she makes a background couple mentioned once or twice in her books off of them.

What was their first fight over and how did they get past it? Their first fight, if you could call it that, was when Sean tried to go all ‘One Man Army’ on the search for the La Huerta Observatory. They got past it when Ken put his hand on Sean’s chest and said, “We can’t lose anybody right now. I...I can’t lose anybody right now.”

Which one is more easily made jealous? Neither one ever gets jealous, they know exactly where the other’s heart is, so they don’t worry about it.

What is their favorite thing to get to eat? Sean loves eating In-N-Out. As a southerner, he feels like he should hate it, but it’s one of Ken’s favorite places, so it’s sentimental to him. Ken grew up in California, he has In-N-Out in his blood.

Who’s the cuddly one? What their favorite cuddling position? They are so cuddly! Their favorite position to cuddle is either Sean fully covering Ken’s body and pressing him down into the mattress which helps him sleep (don’t ask it does), or Ken curled up like a little back pack on Sean’s back as the Big Spoon.

Are they hand holders? OH YEAH. They’re always touching one another too, hands trailing over skin, leaning into one another, sitting ridiculously close, touching each other all the time...they’re that couple.

How long do they wait before sleeping together for the first time? They sleep together for the first time five days after they met, the night before the Watchers came.

Who tops? They either flip a coin or, depending on what situation they're in, know instinctively, but they both switch it up.

What’s the worst first they’ve ever gotten into? The absolute worst fight they ever got into was when Ken played along with the Vaanti and agreed to play out the prophecy of Princess Andromeda, chained to a boulder in the ocean to be fed to the sea monster, Cetus. They all eventually saved Ken, but Sean to this day has never forgiven Ken for it, because seeing the person you love so much, a part of your soul, in that amount of danger, is awful to imagine.

Who does the shopping and the cooking? They both HATE shopping but LOVE cooking so they’ll make shopping a race and then spend hours in the kitchen together making whatever tickles their fancy.

Which one is more organized and prone to tidiness? Ken. Growing up he didn’t have a lot of stuff, so he likes keeping his things neat and tidy and clean, he takes a lot of pride in them. Sean isn’t sloppy by any means, but he’s just not quite as tidy as Ken.

Who proposes? Sean, in the most cliched way possible. Sean eventually got himself signed on as Quarterback for the LA Rams, and their very first year they made it to the Superbowl and won. Sean, standing under the stadium lights, hand in hand with a beaming Ken, was asked by the press, “What are you gonna do now?” And Sean smiled, “Something I’ve been waiting forever for.” And then Sean turned to Ken, kneeled, and pulled out a ring box, popping it open to reveal a simple gold band inlaid with amber, and Sean asked as Ken burst into tears, “Kemen Rodrigo De Vega, love of my life and my other half, will you marry me?” Ken beamed through his tears of joy, “Only if you marry me!” Sean slid the ring onto Ken’s finger and they kissed as the whole damn stadium lost their damn MINDS. The footage was aired on news stations all over the world for a week. It got fifteen million hits on Youtube. Sean thinks he did alright.

Do they have joined Bachelor/Bachelorette parties or separate? Joined, no doubt about it. They really don’t like separating their friends, it’s a weird thing.

Who is the best man/maid of honor? Any other groomsmen or bridesmaids? Diego and Craig are the Best Men, and Kella and Kessa are the Maids of Honor. The rest of the friend group is either a Bridesmaid or a Groomsman.

Big Ceremony or Small? Big ceremony, small reception with just family and close friends.

Do they have a honeymoon? If so, where? Where else?? La Huerta.

Do they have children? How many? They do. They have five kids, Ken always said he wanted a big family and Sean loved the idea, and they adopted a pair of twins, girls, a boy, and then two siblings who were on the verge of being split up by the adoption system, a boy, and a girl.

This was SO MUCH FUN I love Ken so fucking much and his relationship with Sean??? UGH, I LOVE IT!! 

[b4kuch1n]

Taste of an apple in a dream

HRE-centric and mostly character study. Beware of clumsy translation and unbeta-ed writing (both the original and the translation).

Original version in Vietnamese here.

1 On the steep road between the small town and the nearest assembly point, I picked up an apple. 

It was bigger than my hands could hold comfortably. The skin shone the gentle, pure colors of golden afterglow under the sun. It weighed down my hand, as if it were worth more than a light snack. It was akin to the fruit carted through the desert in the eastern tribes’ carriages to be sold at the dry mountain ranges this side of the world. I looked at it and thought, Kids going to the market with their parents would want you so. 

But then we marched on, and I stopped paying mind to that apple. I dropped it in the sack with my belongings; it didn’t go away by itself. It’d laid there at the dark bottom of the sack, and I only bothered to know that much, that I had gotten it within my reach, and it wouldn’t just up and disappear from my life. That was but a meagle memory that should have sunken down below the losses and victory cheers I had bathed in since my departure; but then the feeling of rotten apple skin in my hand and the dead weight of something different from the promise of a good snack returned to me every night as I closed my eyes. I guess the only reason why that disappointment ate up so much of my thoughts was that it was different from the silence of the deads, or from the worries, the plans and calculations of a general at wars. I keep thinking that; the truth is that I didn’t know the real reason. And I kept staying up a few minutes more every night, empty hands palm up on my thighs, measuring the weight of what-ifs surrounding the never-commited act of eating an apple found along the road. 

2 I am a stubborn piece of work living a bitter life. My grandfather did more than he talked. He sometimes didn’t think beyond what he did. That was the lifestyle parents chose when they had to raise a horde of children into grown adults - or, in our case, into powerful nations. But my grandfather did know the worth of ambition, of dreams out of reach, so he told us tales of heroes, of grand peoples and lands. He told us tales of losses and sacrifices, of prizes for the winners, of forgiveness and of steely determination. We grew up with those special treats, each of us keeping a dream or two. Among the grandchildren once upon a time, I am the openly stubborn one. Some of my brothers are ancients, some are nitpicky, some have accepted to settle, some are arrogant to the point of suicidal, but stubbornness is a family trait. I’m just the best example for that trait. I grew up from an unstable state, have witnessed civil wars happen one after another, have felt the land tearing itself apart constantly; because of that my health has never been good. But so what? I asked myself. Health isn’t the be all, end all of life. So I do everything other people do. I choose to live beyond my capacities. But my life is bitter; and I’m too stubborn to give up on it. During the three hundred years in my hometown, I’ve dreamt a lot. My hometown’s sky was wide, nights brought moon and stars to pour their light onto the quiet meadow; sleep during those three hundred years was never disturbed. I’ve dreamt plenty. I’ve dreamt of being tall and strong as the heroes in my grandfather’s tales, holding a sword over my head, looking down at the world. I’ve dreamt of life tasting like soothing sweet ripe fruit, and I’ve dreamt of mornings when I walked and walked, to faraway lands, without having to stop even once to catch my breath-- I’ve also dreamt of never waking up. Of sitting up to see that the world had moved on without me, and then laying back down and closing my eyes, continuing the interrupted dream. My grandfather’s never taught us that dreams could be as dangerous as a spear. We were taught that by pushing our steps we would arrive to a beautiful place; I’ve never heard words of the quitter’s happiness. I can only guess: this is because I’m a stubborn piece of work living a bitter life, and I will get bored of staying back, and I will walk again. One shouldn’t believe in things one can never achieve. 

3

I am but a child to the surrounding nations. I’m not as tall as the elbow of some of my brothers. Some can even hold me up with one arm. Whether it’s true or not, what people say about children growing up surrounded by too many adults, I don’t know. What I can feel, what I assume that I know, is that I don’t think like a child. I’ve never wished to run free in the field or for a new toy. I don’t love and hate or forget easily like a child. I have authority over cranky adults instead of fearing them. I earn my respect. I know the consequences of my actions, on myself as well as on my peers. That’s not how a child think. It’s likely that the reason doesn’t concern my status as a nation. I’ve met the proof of that logic back when my grandfather and the mighty nation that has succumbed under his feet were still living together. I’ve met another nation, a child of my age, with a vain passion for fine arts and music. We couldn’t be more different from each other, and soon after we parted way on two different journeys in history; but the flow of time has filed us into two pieces that fitted together the next times we met. That was the result of collisions and unpredictable falls, I know that; and right at that moment when we first met I’ve learned the ragged face of that person’s being by heart without ever meaning to do so, so as to trim and reshape myself in life, until I realised that that person’s hand fitted perfectly in mine, the chipped delicateness of a worker-artist’s hand a comforting weight in the roughness of scars on a hand that has had to hold sword from the moment it saw the light of day. I’ve fallen in love with that person since when I do not know. Is it that only when I’ve seen how well we fitted together did the sentiments bloom? Or is it real, the poetics spouted by the musician on the other side of the hill, the idea of people born to be together? I don’t know the answer to this either, I only know that since I’m feeling these sentiments they must be real. Whether they’re the cause, the result, or the side effect of a whole random process that is my life in history, they’re still here as a gift given by fate. I’ve chosen to pick it up and drop it in my sack, as a fruit and a dream of life. They’re among the things I contemplate before sleep. I’m but a child in other nations’ eye, but I’m a stubborn one. My life is made up of challenges and detours, I know that - what I can do is facing towards the goal so as to not get lost. Love can be an agonizing trap in a painful life, it can be a reward for incredible efforts. I choose to consider it a promise. A snack after a tiring morning. I’ve hoped that, if I was unfortunate enough to fall in the middle of a battle, I would remember love as an incomplete good happenstance. A meal I miss because of this reason or another. But in the end maybe I’m still but a child: I still crave the sweet treat I’ve had the chance to taste once upon a time. 

4

There are three things I risk everything to try to conquer during these hundreds of years. The first thing is health. War is like opium to nations: moderate use can lessen illness, but greedy abuse can kill. I know that by accepting to go to wars in my fragile state I’ve hung up my future as a wager for a too risky bet. Either I go out of these wars with a steady, strong pulse, or I lose what I already have in battles, under the blood colored sky. The second thing is that person. I used to consider having that person next to me to be merely conquering a southern land, but as time went by the reasonings concerning that person becomes more and more complicated, and by the point when I went to wars, the only clear part left of them is my desire. I want to return to my hometown, to continue living the dreamlike three hundred years on the meadow, under the clear sky of a seemingly neverending morning. That desire is somewhat selfish, but I’ve survived countless battles thanks to it, and so I stubbornly keep it at the bottom of my sack. I keeps me grounded in waking hours, save me as frequently as it endangers me. The last thing I actually can’t name. It seems like it doesn’t have one; it might even be too mundane to stay on my mind. But among the few things I do know (comparing to what I don’t know) there is its existence. It keeps me up at night as much as the other two things, but as it’s nameless I never pay it any mind. Its existence is at the bottom of the sack along with the other two, but I never touch it. It hasn’t caused any more damage than the other two, so I let it be. But in the dreams I don’t want to let go of, I have the first two things in my reach, but I can never have the last. I once had a dream about a brightly lit city with stars perched at the top of trees and warmly dressed people on flat roads. In that dream I saw myself reflected on the surface of a glass panel: tall and strong, walking steady steps, next to that person smiling brilliantly. We were having a free evening in the middle of a busy week, and we were invited to a small party at another nation’s place. I was ready to stay in that dream forever, but then I did wake up, and what surprised me most was that I don’t feel the regret as strongly as the emptiness. As if I’d forgotten something. What that “something” is, I have no idea. I only know that dreams are to be realised, not to be admired. I’ve had a lesson about saving ambitions for later. That lesson still haunts me every night before sleep. I don’t need to learn it again. 

5 I’ve never knew one could influence the dreams of people around them. Until I met the proof of that influence. I am not one with an imagination. I don’t draw, I don’t sing or play an instrument, I don’t like storytelling that much. I prefer simple things with simple consequences. I used to be scared of the dark, but I prefer to explore it with a sword than to guess what it holds. That is why I dream of what I haven’t yet conquered, what I’m not satisfied about myself, what I want to have. Maybe love can be classified as “what I want to have”, I think. I used to avoid sentimental matters, but a promise with another person has helped me move forward more than anything else. I accept that love is desirable. However, to be able to tell a small portion of what love brings, I have to temporarily let go of it. During nights I spend remembering the meadow, I recall too the peace I felt in my guts, a smile in sleep. But then from whence came things that don’t belong in my memories, I can’t tell. I dream of a morning I wake up in a place where there’s the sea and a clear sky, the feeling of smooth sand under my back, that person waiting in a small boat about to set sail. I dream of a far future where war is but a noise on the other side of the brightly lit kitchen’s wall. Of a final fight, the outcome of which I do not know, but in which I participate with all my might nonetheless. In the end those are not made up entirely by me: I am not one with an imagination. Those are glimpses of paintings I’ve seen, of faces I’ve seen, of wants I’ve saved up for some people, spiralling into worries and calculations only to resurface at night. Only by having those dreams can I barely know the taste of imagination. Having tasted it, I start to want more, and that scares me. In the end I wrap that taste up in that packet labeled “love” at the bottom of my sack. I keeps coming back, but I know I can’t do much more than admiring it. It’s part of a dream, but it can’t be a dream by itself. 

6 I took a long nap during a midday stop at a small inn. I closed my eyes as the Holy Roman Empire and opened them as the Federal Republic of Germany. I was standing on a balcony looking out to a bright city under a cold sun. I felt my hand on warm metal of the handrail; I’d been standing here for some ten minutes. That person, now named the Italian Republic, came to stand next to me and smiled. “Do you want some cake?”, he asked, handing me a piece of cake on a small plate. I took it with a nod and a thank-you, but didn’t eat it right then. Prussia loved these stuffs, if there wasn’t any left for him a while later he would sulk for Lord knew how long. Italy looked at me, then at the city in front of us. “This place is nice,” he said. “Getting some cool air once in a while is refreshing. If you want some sun, feel free to come by my place.” I crossed my arms on the handrail, holding tight on the plate. “When I have enough free time.” He smiled a brilliant smile, then went back inside for more cake and left me to myself. I looked behind me, suddenly thinking of how bizarre this dream was, and then I saw the smiles on the other side of the window pane. They were cutting the rest of the cake, happiness apparent in every gestures. I wanted to come inside with the plate I was holding, to participate in the conversation going on there, to give and get back slaps and banters. But for some reasons I knew that when I walked inside the room would be empty. I hadn’t had these things yet. This was but a dream, a too heavy dream in the hands of a sickly but stubborn child. When I looked back to the city, I was once again the Holy Roman Empire, on the roadside in a late sunset. The afterglow-colored apple weighed down in my hand. I stared at it. “You should take a bite,” someone said to me. I looked back to see Germany standing face to face with me across the handrail. I’d always found him to be tall, but as I stood in front of him as myself, I finally realised how tall he really was. His calm eyes looked at me with patience. I pursed my lips, “What would it taste like?”, to which he shrugged, face not revealing any impression. “Only one way to know.” I looked again at the apple in my hand. The last time I picked it up, I’d dropped it in my sack without thinking much about it, and had missed the chance to know its real taste. This seemed to be the second chance I’d desired. But I looked up into the eyes of the man across the handrail, and I thought. Regret welled up once again, brought a gloom to my spirit, and I couldn’t hold myself back. “You don’t know,” I scolded. He was silent for a long while. In the end he said, “You can dream about it.” I thought about his words. It was true that I could dream about it. This apple could taste like the best pies of the upcoming town. I could taste like the golden skinned, crunchy fruit brought here by the Easterners. It could taste like anything I wanted it to in this place. I thought, and then I threw the apple to the man in front of me. He caught it with one hand. “You take a bite,” I challenged him, “then tell me what it tastes like.” He looked at me for a moment. Bringing the apple to his mouth, he took a small bite. My empty hand balled up into a fist. Then he smiled, and threw the apple back to me. I stood there with a bitten apple in my hand, looked at him as he turned his back and went inside the apartment, closing the door to the balcony, and his world faded into the scenery I remembered. Memories faded into a colorless dream, and I dropped the apple into the bottom of my sack, back to where it was before. I’m a sickly child with a sack too full of dreams, I know that. A stubborn brat living a bitter life. Those two things fit together entirely by coincidence to create me, so as to never let me let go of my sack of dreams or stand back to admire it. That day, in my dream, I lay down on the floor of the colorless domain. My hand was incomprehensibly empty, and I felt the loneliness in a place where echoed worries and calculations and memories of hundreds of years. I didn’t achieve anything in that dream, but I didn’t hesitate anymore when I woke up from it. 

0 The soldier found the child in the room. He had served under this child’s command for a long while, but his identity remained a mystery to him. A personification of your homeland, or so people had told him. He didn’t understand, but he wasn’t terribly curious either; the child did his share of work admirably and earned the respect his soldiers paid him. That mysterious child was now lying under the woolen blanket, eyes closed, taking thready but regular breath. The soldier observed him from the doorframe, the letter he was asked to deliver held tight in his grip. Maybe I should just leave it on the table, he thought, he’ll see it when he wakes up. “What’re ya lurking around for?” Someone asked from behind him, making he jump in surprise. He looked back to find himself facing his other, silver-haired commander. The man’s red eyes bore into his, his hand already around his sword hilt. The soldier held up the letter hurriedly. “He’s sleeping,” he said. The beastly rage in the red eyes vanished. The man let go of his sword and stepped up next to the soldier, perched forward to look inside. “Good,” he exhaled his seemingly long-held breath. “‘S been running around the whole morning now.” The soldier pursed his lips. “I never understand how he can keep that up.” He received an apathetic smirk from the man still looking inside the room. “People dare to do many things when they have a goal. The younger they’re, the more they dream, the more they dare to risk… Ah?” The soldier looked to his commander to see an amused smile on his face. He looked back into the room: there was also a dreamy smile on the child’s lips. It made him realised how young this child really was. “Must be a really good dream,” he said to himself. The commander heard it. His smile dimmed a little, became something that always conveyed satisfaction, but lacked the enthusiasm that had been there just moments ago. The soldier looked at him, then back at the child. “Good for him,” he said, simply. The man was still looking at the child attentively. “Yea,” he said lightly, as if his mind was somewhere else very far away. The soldier wanted to ask, but he looked again into the room, at the peaceful, sleep-laden face of the child. He decided to not be curious./.

[blschaos3000-blog]

Its 1:26 pm warm/Memorial Day/never forget

Welcome to 8 Questions with…….

Today’s interview is a little different in a couple of ways. Today’s guest,Blaine Kelley,is my first politicallt active guest. Now I usually find the folks I talk with via Facebook or a third party.  But Blaine is also my first Twitter guest,he and I have been friends on that platform for around three years now. And yes,Blaine is one of the most active voices against Donald Trump and his fascist regime. He posts different news articles,gets out in the street and encourages everyone to excercise their right to vote no matter how hard the Republicans are trying to deny and suppress that right. I have found Blaine to be a warm and generous man who loves his family and his country. He is willing to discuss just about anything as well….in fact he and I have had some really nice chats about life in general. What I respect most about Blaine is that he will be friends with just anyone based on face value,he doesn’t judge anyone and lets their actions speak for themselves. In today’s world,that is rapidly becoming a rare trait. I know by posting this interview that I am showing where I stand in today’s world and while I plan to interview other activists,my blog is not a political one nor will it become one. Simply because I think politics are dead and good people like Blaine Kelley are fighting for the life and the future of this country. So I hope you will really read the answers to the 8 Questions (plus a couple more) that I asked Blaine Kelley……

Please introduce yourself and share a little bit of your background with us.

Hello- My name is Blaine Kelley. I am from central California. I have always lived here and have no desire to live elsewhere.  I went to school at Pepperdine University where I studied Economics and Literature. I Attended Law School at Southern Cal.  I worked as a civil attorney for over a decade until I burned out on the grind.  My mother was suffering from cancer and I spent several years attending to her while she battled it. I began to feel the need to go back to work so I invested in a construction corporation and became a board member and the VP of operations. I continued this for a decade finally selling my shares and entering the corporate consulting world.

How are you and your family coping with the Covid-19 lockdown?

  During this time I met my spouse and we relocated from San Diego to The Bay Area. When Covid-19 struck I had been following the science for several months. I was not surprised at the lightening speed of the spread in the US. I was prepared.  We have been sheltering In place longer than most of the country and it shows on the infection growth curve for California.  I feel very lucky for this.  We have two children, 10 and 14, whom I have taken the responsibility of educating during the pandemic. Many of you know this is quite a challenge. Beyond this the “lockdown’ has presented many obstacles: Being isolated from friends and family is a challenge the video calling only partially overcomes.  Further it is a daily challenge to stay physically mentally and physically fit without access to the “normal” outlets that keep me and my family on an even keel.

When did you become politically active and what was the issue that peaked your interest?

  I am 50 and became interested in politics during high school.  The Iran Contra Affair was interesting because my best friends neighbor was arrested for weapons trafficking. We lived in a small beach community so this was A BIG DEAL.  My family was always involved in political activities. My grandfather was a contemporary of Cesar Chavez and Delores Huerta. He marched with the farmworkers from Delano to Sacramento. It wasn’t uncommon to visit them and dine with famous social and political figures.  The strong pro-union sentiment is something I still support and am proud of to this day. Political corruption has always been one of my main areas of interest when thinking about the political perspective. Weather local or national, corruption has been and will be, the single biggest danger to the democratic ideal most Americans cherish.

What is “the Resistance”?

  The Resistance to me is merely a group of citizens who are fed up with the corruption that is choking our Democracy right now. We see the questionable validity of our election process, and more importantly, the disastrous results that political apathy and general ignorance have delivered upon us all.  Within my circle of allies you will find individuals from across the political spectrum. What we have in common is a passionate love of our Country and a steadfast belief in the Rule Of Law.  Without fair and balanced laws society will not function as envisioned by the founders, the citizenry, and the our allies across the world who, by necessity, need the United States to be the Beacon of Justice for the World.

Do you feel only having two political parties have led us down this path in which we have a fascist president?  What three things would you reform if you could do so?

  I have little experience with anything other than the two party system. Accordingly, my thoughts on a parliamentary system are not favorable. I think 90-95 percent of Americans all want the same thing but want to take a different route across town to reach the destination. Accordingly, more parties won’t solve this issue but more imput and cooperation will.

Do you feel a corporate owned press does more damage then good and why/why not?

  The so called free press is partially at fault for the current fiasco we have in Washington. We have ZERO requirements that “the press” report Facts, Truth, or anything advising the consumer that opinion is being presented as NEWS.  This is an epic failure of Congress and the Courts. It is difficult to determine if the big three (MSNBC.CNN.FOX) are mostly responsible for the authoritarian crisis we currently face. What is clear, Ratings (income) are the primary goal of all media in the United States. This is problematic as the echo chamber effect is fully our current reality.  Obviously this is not the way to unite all citizens for any common good. Divide and conquer is a successful strategy that has been effective for thousands of years.

How can we recover our country or have we gone past that point?

I definitely think we can save our county and political system. We have not yet lost all respect and understanding for and of the Rule Of Law. We are close as normalization of authoritian actions is “normalized” by Fox news and to a lessor extent by the other two daily. We also see most Members of the GOP doing the same in furtherance of personal and professional necessity. The margin is razor thin for the upcoming election. If America is to be saved some wholesale changes must be made if the Authoritian corporate machine is defeated in November. Among these are Citizens United, wholesale voter repression/suppression ,and  term limits to nave a few.

How do you explain what is happening to your kids?

10 and 14 have a basic understanding of the problems we face. I explain how (corny but deal) Truth and Justice are integral to the American Way. I define Justice as; those who fail to follow the laws of man, as passed by our court or, made by our lawmakers, are punished according to those same laws. That clearly is not happening!

Do you feel the revisionist policies in our schools have played a part of the rise in fascism here?

I don’t consider revisionist content in schools the major problem but rather the wholesale elimination of content the culprit.  Ignorance of the designed mechanisms of the political and legal worlds is the biggest educational failure I see. This has led to a loss of respect for both The Law And The Political Process. Loss of respect has led to apathy.

How do you encourage people and which people encourage you?

I try to encourage others to do one simple thing….VOTE. By explaining that the ability to vote is a privilege I hope to inspire others to become more aware of their ability to affect other lives in a positive way. I tend to barrage people with facts……sometime too many. Lately I have just pushed the idea that if you vote you rightfully have a say in the outcome. People that inspire me are those who understand that wisdom is important yet easy to acquire. It isn’t all  about IQ but about paying attention and digesting what you see in a meaningful way.

Do you feel we as a society have become much to reactionary because we feel powerless to do anything?

  No on the contrary we are way too fucking apathetic.  Many will passively sit by and watch while tragedy occurs RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM.  Two examples: Last year my Spouse and I were at the store and witnessed a man hitting his wife!  I ran up and, along with another, grabbed the man separating him from the woman. There were at least 15 other bystanders doing NOTHING. Four months ago I was driving and a woman was running in traffic. She was  screaming….. She was being chased by a man.  I pulled over and inserted myself between her and the man allowing her to get in her car and escape. Taking personal responsibility to make my city a better place for all is what everyone needs to do. We have to get out of our personal bubble and take some responsibility to make life better for everyone. Liberty and freedom are not going to last for any of us unless all of us work together.

 What do you like to to do for fun when you’re able to do so?

I enjoy a wide variety of things. Books, live music, and the outdoors are my favorites. Somehow eating delicious things seems to be involved in most of those activities. My family is the center of most of these a interests. Traveling to a concert, sporting event, or a National Park we find a way to experience new foods along the way.

The cheetah and I are flying over to watch to attend a political rally but we are a day early and now you are playing tour guide,what are we doing?

Accordingly I would encourage you and the Cheetah to check out the bay and the museums here. Mainly because great food is always near. A trip to the Capital is a short hop as well. The Cheetah would love a romp through the many estuaries in search of things to smell and chase………

I like to thank Blaine for talking the time to chat with us and being candid  about his views on the state of America. As November gets closer,this next vote is the most important in our nation’s history. If we don’t retake back our country then,we never will.

You can follow Blaine on his Twitter by clicking here.

Feel free to drop us a comment below. 

8 Questions with………political activist Blaine Kelley Its 1:26 pm warm/Memorial Day/never forget Welcome to 8 Questions with....... Today's interview is a little different in a couple of ways.

[cliftonsteen]

Why Rwandan Youth Are Turning Away From Coffee Production

Like many African coffee-producing nations, Rwanda has reached a critical point in its coffee production due to the age of its farmers. A combination of factors, including the coffee price crisis, mass urban migration, and changing attitudes have created a coffee production workforce sorely lacking the involvement of younger generations.

The United Nations Food and Agricultural Organisation (FAO) states that the average age of an African farmer is 60, despite 60% of the continent’s population being under 24. In Rwanda, this means that of the 400,000 smallholder farmers responsible for coffee production, a significant percentage might soon be too old to continue farming the crop.

To address this potential crisis, steps must be taken to solve the issues keeping young Rwandans away from coffee production. Here’s what some of those reasons are, and what efforts are being made to overcome them.

You may also like Tackling The Challenges of Trading Coffee in East Africa

A coffee farmer carries beans from her farm to the Cocagi Coffee Washing Station in Rwanda. Credit: Laura Mulkerne

Shifting Job Creation Patterns

Rwanda’s coffee industry has come a long way since it first drove the country’s economy in the 1930s. Since then, it has gone through independence, the world’s coffee price drop crisis, as well as genocide. This left the once-thriving industry in bad shape by the year 2000. 

In the past few years, Rwanda’s economy has grown, with a 23% increase in investments taking place last year to the value of $2.5 billion. This is expected to create 35 715 jobs, with a target of 200 000 jobs and a 10% investment increase set for the next year. Currently, Rwanda is one of the world’s fastest-growing economies and as of 2018, its labour force participation was 52.4%.

While more jobs are being created by the government, they’re not likely to be found in agriculture. One of the country’s goals as part of their Vision 2020 and Economic Development and Poverty Reduction Strategy has been to decrease the population dependent on low-productive agricultural activities by 50%, by creating 2.2 million jobs. They hope this will reduce underemployment and unemployment in rural and urban youth.

Currently, a large percentage of Rwandan youth are underemployed, which means they work a limited amount of hours a week, but wish to work more. A large percentage of this group work without pay on family farms or as waged farmhands for independent farmers. With rural areas offering jobs like these, many are moving to the city to find work.

Research suggests that they are finding work in these urban areas. According to a 2018 World Bank report on Leveraging Urbanisation for Rwanda’s Economic Transformation, there’s a link between urban population density and non-farm job creation in Greater Kigali and the cores of the six secondary cities. In addition, the report estimates that the effect of urban population density on poverty reduction is strong, with a decrease in density associated with a percent drop in the rate of moderate poverty in one recorded instance.

Farmers enjoy a cup of their own coffee at Gisumba Coffee Washing Station, Rwanda. Credit: Laura Mulkerne

Plummeting Prices 

It’s apparent that employment opportunities are attracting younger Rwandans towards the city. However, this doesn’t tell us what working in coffee production is like, and why it’s driving them away. For insight into this, I spoke to Liza Imbonabake, who is an Associate and Business Trainer at Challenges Worldwide, a management consultancy company in Kigali’s development sector. 

She tells me, “What mainly pushes the youth away is the prices. To them, the market is really complicated – they see ten intermediaries between them and the buyer, so they don’t see the point”. This is a common sentiment amongst coffee producers worldwide, who often take on most of the risk involved in coffee production, but end up with the smallest profit.

A conversation with a staff member at the Kopakama Cooperative in Rwanda reinforces this. They tell me that on average, a farmer produces one tonne of coffee in a three-month harvesting season, valued at 220 000 Rwandan Francs, or 240 dollars. Currently, the average living wage for Rwandan families is 219 000 Rwandan Francs. So, in three months, producers earn just over a third of what the average Rwandan earns in a month. 

Liza tells me that this is part of the reason that the younger generation isn’t interested in taking up coffee farming. She says that if they do work in coffee, they end up working on washing stations. “They do the casual labour – they collect cherries or do the transportation services from farm to washing station, but not the actual farming”. This way, you’re guaranteed a wage. It may be low, but Liza says that at least this way, you’re dependent on the weather. 

A farmer stands by her coffee trees in Kopakaki, Rwanda. Credit: Laura Mulkerne

A Lack of Motivation

While facts and figures can shape the conditions that are driving the youth away from coffee production, it does little to tell you how this group views this industry. To find out more about how young Rwandans feel about coffee production, I spoke to Smayah Uwajeneza.

Smayah is a Rwandan coffee roaster working for Sustainable Harvest, an international specialty coffee importer that fosters direct relationships between buyers and producers. She’s also a recipient of the 2018-2020 Specialty Coffee Association LEAD Scholarship, which is a career development and mentorship initiative aimed at increasing leadership diversity in the global coffee community. 

Smayah works directly with female farmers and spends a significant amount of time at washing stations, where she facilitates workshops on subjects such as improved farming methods in the face of climate change, and financial literacy training. When talking about youth turning away from coffee production, she asks me, “Can you blame them?” She’s witnessed firsthand the amount of hard work and labour that goes into coffee production, telling me that she once saw “a pregnant woman, carrying a big basin on her head full of cherries and a baby strapped to her back, walking for two hours to get down to the washing station… It’s the rainy season, there’s no track for her to [walk on], and it’s slippery. If you have five kilograms on your head with the water coming in, it’s going to [feel] more like seven kilograms”. She continues, saying “If you talk to a child from this family, how is she ever going to be motivated to join the work that her mother is doing? Sometimes they don’t get lunch, they don’t get dinner, and yet the mother is working and waiting for coffee for sometimes three or four years, and they’re only earning cents that … is gone in hours. How are you going to be motivated to stay? Never.” 

Smayah’s account suggests that coffee farming is seen as a high risk and low reward endeavour by youth. After all, producing coffee requires constant attention to achieve a single harvest – and that’s without taking into consideration issues such as the increased frequency and duration of droughts, floods, landslides, erosion, and plant disease being brought about by changing weather patterns in Rwanda. As one farmer in Huye, Rwanda, told me, “You can’t put it into hours, you always have to be there. You live in your trees”.

Drying beds full of beans during harvesting season at Koakaka Coffee Washing Station, Rwanda. Credit: Laura Mulkerne

What Changes Are Being Made?

While the Rwandan coffee industry is undergoing changes to keep up coffee production, many of these are targeted at improving production in general, and not specifically at the youth. 

After important infrastructure was lost during the genocide, the Rwandan government realised this need to be replaced in order for coffee production to continue successfully, and that replacing it would require improving technology and production, as well as skill and quality. The 2002 National Coffee Strategy was formed to accomplish this, as well as to position Rwanda as a speciality coffee producing country.

Since then, various local and international organisations have gotten involved in improving farmer capacity and productivity. Smayah tells me that part of Sustainable Harvest’s programme includes offering educational workshops and classes on trade and market prices, as well as networking and connecting roasters to coffee producers.

Another organisation providing capacity building is Challenges Worldwide, an international development charity that builds enterprises in growing economies. In 2017, they launched a five year Coffee Market Building for Peace and Prosperity project with eight coffee cooperatives in western and southern Rwanda. 

The project aims to improve farmers’ business models so that they generate more capital and become more sustainable. It will also safeguard them against climate change by helping them reduce their operating costs and carbon emissions by using renewable energy for coffee washing.

The goal of training is for young and old to be being trained, and for those that are trained to pass down their skills to their successors. However, Liza tells me that in her experience, the majority of those in attendance are elders, and expresses further doubt that these elders will pass their training on to younger generations – halting the spread of knowledge even further. 

An employee at Kigembe Coffee Washing Station sorts through beans on a drying table. Credit: Laura Mulkerne

An initiative that might have more success with younger generations is the Rwanda Youth in Agribusiness Forum, which is an online forum created to “change the old mindset among the youth … while orienting youth to reach out to other farming groups to raise awareness on the practice of business-oriented agriculture”. One of their areas of interest is coffee production.

With mobile phones allowing youth and low-income earners access to the internet, this forum could be accessed more easily than training sessions held in geographic locations. Currently, the forum has over 12 000 members, and promises all who join access to global opportunities designed for youth in agribusiness, business development support, mentoring and coaching, capacity building programs, and more. 

Another initiative that might also achieve success is Sustainable Growers. This group has recognised that women are often excluded from benefiting from coffee production. They offer Rwandan women access to a year-long professional coffee farming and market access training program, where they are trained in best agricultural practices in coffee, home roasting, gender, and market access activities. 

While women in Rwanda make up a significant percentage of the country’s workers, they are less likely to have wage employment than men, and are often limited to performing unpaid household labour. By involving this group in coffee production, this could change.

An employee at Cocagi Coffee Washing Station sorts through coffee beans, ready to be sent off as samples. Credit: Laura Mulkerne

It’s evident that there’s a long way to go in order to get Rwandan youth involved in coffee production again, and that this might not be as simple to accomplish as it seems. 

It will require the current coffee-producing population to work with their successors, and for organisations to reach the younger generation in a manner that suits them, and not the other way around.

However, with recognition of the problem, solutions can be created which will allow the country to continue to produce the specialty coffee it’s famous for, for years to come. 

Enjoyed this? Then Read What a Coffee Producer Thinks When Harvest Begins

Written by Martha Baker-Woodside. Feature photo caption: Drying beds full of beans during harvesting season at Koakaka Coffee Washing Station, Rwanda. Feature photo credit: Laura Mulkerne

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