#world gin day 2022

[eddie-redmayne-italian-blog]

The Untold History of Cabaret: Revived and Kicking

As Broadway welcomes the ever-evolving musical, its star, Eddie Redmayne—along with Liza Minnelli, Joel Grey, and Sam Mendes—assess its enduring power.

As director Rebecca Frecknall was rehearsing a new cast for her hit London revival of Cabaret, the actor playing Clifford Bradshaw, an American writer living in Berlin during the final days of the Weimar Republic, came onstage carrying that day’s newspaper as a prop. It happened to be Metro, the free London tabloid commuters read on their way to work. The date was February 25, 2022. When the actor said his line—“We’ve got to leave Berlin—as soon as possible. Tomorrow!”—Frecknall was caught short. She noticed the paper’s headline: “Russia Invades Ukraine.”

Cabaret, the groundbreaking 1966 Broadway musical that tackles fascism, antisemitism, abortion, World War II, and the events leading up to the Holocaust, had certainly captured the times once again.

Back in rehearsals four months later, Frecknall and the cast got word that the Supreme Court had overturned Roe v. Wade. Every time she checks up on Cabaret, “it feels like something else has happened in the world,” she told me over coffee in London in September.

A month later, as Frecknall was preparing her production of Cabaret for its Broadway premiere, something else did happen: On October 7, Hamas terrorists infiltrated Israel, killing at least 1,200 people and taking more than 240 hostages.

The revival of Cabaret—starring Eddie Redmayne as the creepy yet seductive Emcee; Gayle Rankin as the gin-swilling nightclub singer Sally Bowles; and Bebe Neuwirth as Fraulein Schneider, a landlady struggling to scrape by—opens April 21 at Manhattan’s August Wilson Theatre. It will do so in the shadow of a pogrom not seen since the Einsatzgruppen slaughtered thousands of Jews in Eastern Europe and in the shadow of a war between Israel and Hamas that continues into its fifth month, with the killing of thousands of civilians in Gaza.

Nearly 60 years after its debut, Cabaret still stings. That is its brilliance. And its tragedy.

Redmayne has been haunted by Cabaret ever since he played the Emcee in prep school. “I was staggered by the character,” he says. “The lack of definition of it, the enigma of it.” He played the part again during his first year at Cambridge at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, where nearly 3,500 shoestring productions jostle for attention each summer. Cabaret, performed in a tiny venue that “stank,” Redmayne recalls, did well enough that the producers added an extra show. He was leering at the Kit Kat Club girls from 8 p.m. till 10 p.m. and then from 11 p.m. till two in the morning. “You’d wake up at midday. You barely see sunshine. I just became this gaunt, skeletal figure.” His parents came to see him and said, “You need vitamin D!”

In 2021, Redmayne, by then an Oscar winner for The Theory of Everything and a Tony winner for Red, was playing the Emcee again, this time in Frecknall’s West End production. His dressing room on opening night was full of flowers. There was one bouquet with a card he did not have a chance to open until intermission. It was from Joel Grey, who originated the role on Broadway and won an Oscar for his performance alongside Liza Minnelli in the 1972 movie. He welcomed the young actor “to the family,” Redmayne says. “It was an extraordinary moment for me.”

Cabaret is based on Goodbye to Berlin, the British writer Christopher Isherwood’s collection of stories and character studies set in Weimar Germany as the Nazis are clawing their way to power. Isherwood, who went to Berlin for one reason—“boys,” he wrote in his memoir Christopher and His Kind—lived in a dingy boarding house amid an array of sleazy lodgers who inspired his characters. But aside from a fleeting mention of a host at a seedy nightclub, there is no emcee in his vignettes. Nor is there an emcee in I Am a Camera, John Van Druten’s hit 1951 Broadway play adapted from Isherwood’s story “Sally Bowles” from Goodbye to Berlin.

The character, one of the most famous in Broadway history, was created by Harold Prince​​, who produced and directed the original Cabaret. “People write about Cabaret all the time,” says John Kander, who composed the show’s music and is, at 96, the last living member of that creative team. “They write about Liza. They write about Joel, and sometimes about us [Kander and lyricist Fred Ebb]. None of that really matters. It’s all Hal. Everything about this piece, even the variations that happen in different versions of it, is all because of Hal.”

In 1964, Prince produced his biggest hit: Fiddler on the Roof. In the final scene, Tevye and his family, having survived a pogrom, leave for America. There is sadness but also hope. And what of the Jews who did not leave? Cabaret would provide the tragic answer.

But Prince was after something else. Without hitting the audience over the head, he wanted to create a musical that echoed what was happening in America: young men being sent to their deaths in Vietnam; racists such as Alabama politician “Bull” Connor siccing attack dogs on civil rights marchers. In rehearsals, Prince put up Will Counts’s iconic photograph of a white student screaming at a Black student during the Little Rock crisis of 1957. “That’s our show,” he told the cast.

A bold idea he had early on was to juxtapose the lives of Isherwood’s lodgers with one of the tawdry nightclubs Isherwood had frequented. In 1951, while stationed as a soldier in Stuttgart, Germany, Prince himself had hung around such a place. Presiding over the third-rate acts was a master of ceremonies in white makeup and of indeterminate sexuality. He “unnerved me,” Prince once told me. “But I never forgot him.”

Kander had seen the same kind of character at the opening of a Marlene Dietrich concert in Europe. “An overpainted little man waddled out and said, ‘Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome,’ ” Kander recalls.

The first song Kander and Ebb wrote for the show was called “Willkommen.” They wrote 60 more songs. “Some of them were outrageous,” Kander says. “We wrote some antisemitic songs”—of which there were many in Weimar cabarets—“ ‘Good neighbor Cohen, loaned you a loan.’ We didn’t get very far with that one.”

They did write one song about antisemitism: “If You Could See Her (The Gorilla Song),” in which the Emcee dances with his lover, a gorilla in a pink tutu. At the end of the number, he turns to the audience and whispers: “If you could see her through my eyes, she wouldn’t look Jewishhh at all.” It was, they thought, the most powerful song in the score.

The working title of their musical was Welcome to Berlin. But then a woman who sold blocks of tickets to theater parties told Prince that her Jewish clients would not buy a show with “Berlin” in the title. Strolling along the beach one day, Joe Masteroff, who was writing the musical’s book, thought of two recent hits, Carnival and Camelot. Both started with a C and had three syllables. Why not call the show Cabaret?

To play the Emcee, Prince tapped his friend Joel Grey. A nightclub headliner, Grey could not break into Broadway. “The theater was very high-minded,” he once said. When Prince called him, he was playing a pirate in a third-rate musical in New York’s Jones Beach. “Hal knew I was dying,” Grey recounts over lunch in the West Village, where he lives. “I wanted to quit the business.”

At first, he struggled to create the Emcee, who did not interact with the other characters. He had numbers but “no words, no lines, no role,” Grey wrote in his memoir, Master of Ceremonies. A polished performer, he had no trouble with the songs, the dances, the antics. “But something was missing,” he says. Then he remembered a cheap comedian he’d once seen in St. Louis. The comic had told lecherous jokes, gay jokes, sexist jokes—anything to get a laugh. One day in rehearsal, Grey did everything the comedian had done “to get the audience crazy. I was all over the girls, squeezing their breasts, touching their bottoms. They were furious. I was horrible. When it was over I thought, This is the end of my career.” He disappeared backstage and cried. “And then from out of the darkness came Mr. Prince,” Grey says. “He put his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘Joely, that’s it.’ ”

Cabaret played its first performance at the Shubert Theatre in Boston in the fall of 1966. Grey stopped the show with the opening number, “Willkommen.” “The audience wouldn’t stop applauding,” Grey recalls. “I turned to the stage manager and said, ‘Should I get changed for the next scene?’ ”

The musical ran long—it was in three acts—but it got a prolonged standing ovation. As the curtain came down, Richard Seff, an agent who represented Kander and Ebb, ran into Ebb in the aisle. “It’s wonderful,” Seff said. “You’ll fix the obvious flaws.” In the middle of the night, Seff’s phone rang. It was Ebb. “You hated it!” the songwriter screamed. “You are of no help at all!”

Ebb was reeling because he’d learned Prince was going to cut the show down to two acts. Ebb collapsed in his hotel bed, Kander holding one hand, Grey the other. “You’re not dying, Fred,” Kander told him. “Hal has not wrecked our show.”

Cabaret came roaring into New York, fueled by tremendous word of mouth. But there was a problem. Some Jewish groups were furious about “If You Could See Her.” How could you equate a gorilla with a Jew? they wanted to know, missing the point entirely. They threatened to boycott the show. Prince, his eye on ticket sales, told Ebb to change the line “She wouldn’t look Jewish at all” to something less offensive: “She isn’t a meeskite at all,” using the Yiddish word for a homely person.

It is difficult to imagine the impact Cabaret had on audiences in 1966. World War II had ended only 21 years before. Many New York theatergoers had fled Europe or fought the Nazis. There were Holocaust survivors in the audience; there were people whose relatives had died in the gas chambers. Grey knew the show’s power. Some nights, dancing with the gorilla, he’d whisper “Jewish” instead of “meeskite.” The audience gasped.

Cabaret won eight Tony Awards in 1967, catapulted Grey to Broadway stardom, and ran for three years. Seff sold the movie rights for $1.5 million, a record at the time. Prince, about to begin rehearsals for Stephen Sondheim’s Company, was unavailable to direct the movie, scheduled for a 1972 release. So the producers hired the director and choreographer Bob Fosse, who needed the job because his previous movie, Sweet Charity, had been a bust.

Fosse, who saw Prince as a rival, stamped out much of what Prince had done, including Joel Grey. He wanted Ruth Gordon to play the Emcee. But Grey was a sensation, and the studio wanted him. “It’s either me or Joel,” Fosse said. When the studio opted for Grey, Fosse backed down. But he resented Grey, and relations between them were icy.

A 26-year-old Liza Minnelli, on the way to stardom herself, was cast as Sally Bowles. The handsome Michael York would play the Cliff character, whose name in the movie was changed to Brian Roberts. And supermodel Marisa Berenson (who at the time seemed to be on the cover of Vogue every other month) got the role of a Jewish department store heiress, a character Fosse took from Isherwood’s short story “The Landauers.”

Cabaret was shot on location in Munich and Berlin. “The atmosphere was extremely heavy,” Berenson recalls. “There was the whole Nazi period, and I felt very much the Berlin Wall, that darkness, that fear, all that repression.” She adored Fosse, but he kept her off balance (she was playing a young woman traumatized by what was happening around her) by whispering “obscene things in my ear. He was shaking me up.”

Minnelli, costumed by Halston for the film, found Fosse “brilliant” and “incredibly intense,” she tells Vanity Fair in a rare interview. “He used every part of me, including my scoliosis. One of my great lessons in working with Fosse was never to think that whatever he was asking couldn’t be done. If he said do it, you had to figure out how to do it. You didn’t think about how much it hurt. You just made it happen.”

Back in New York, Fosse arranged a private screening of Cabaret for Kander and Ebb. When it was over, they said nothing. “We really hated it,” Kander admits. Then they went to the opening at the Ziegfeld Theatre in New York. The audience loved it. “We realized it was a masterpiece,” Kander says, laughing. “It just wasn’t our show.”

“PAPA WAS EVEN MORE EXCITED ABOUT THE OSCAR THAN I WAS,” SAYS LIZA MINNELLI. “AND, BABY, I WAS—NO, I AM STILL—EXCITED.”

The success of the movie—with its eight Academy Awards—soon overshadowed the musical. When people thought of Cabaret, they thought of finger snaps and bowler hats. They thought of Fosse and, of course, Minnelli, who would adopt the lyric “Life is a cabaret” as her signature. Her best-actress Oscar became part of a dynasty: Her mother, Judy Garland, and father, director Vincente Minnelli, each had one of their own. “Papa was even more excited about the Oscar than I was,” she says. “And, baby, I was—no, I am still—excited.”

By 1987—in part to burnish Cabaret’s theatrical legacy—Prince decided to recreate his original production on Broadway, with Grey once again serving as the Emcee. But it had the odor of mothballs. The New York Times drama critic Frank Rich wrote that it was not, as Sally Bowles sings, “perfectly marvelous,” but “it does approach the perfectly mediocre.” Much of the show, he added, was “old-fashioned and plodding.”

In the early 1990s, Sam Mendes, then a young director running a pocket-size theater in London called the Donmar Warehouse, heard the novelist Martin Amis give a talk. Amis was writing Time’s Arrow, about a German doctor who works in a concentration camp. “I’ve already written about the Nazis and people say to me, ‘Why are you doing it again?’ ” Amis said. “And I say, what else is there?”

At the end of the day,” Mendes tells me, “the biggest question of the 20th century is, ‘How could this have happened?’ ” Mendes decided to stage Cabaret at the Donmar in 1993. Another horror was unfolding at the time: Serb paramilitaries were slaughtering Bosnian Muslims, “ethnic cleansing” on an unimaginable scale.

Mendes hit on a terrific concept for his production: He transformed his theater into a nightclub. The audience sat at little tables with red lamps. And the performers were truly seedy. He told the actors playing the Kit Kat Club girls not to shave their armpits or their legs. “Unshaved armpits—it sent shock waves around the theater,” he recalls. Since there was no room—or money—for an orchestra, the actors played the instruments. Some of them could hit the right notes.

To play the Emcee, Mendes cast Alan Cumming, a young Scottish actor whose comedy act Mendes had enjoyed. “Can you sing?” Mendes asked him. “Yeah,” Cumming said. Mendes threw ideas at him and “he was open to everything.” Just before the first preview, Mendes suggested he come out during the intermission and chat up the audience, maybe dance with a woman. Mendes, frantic before the preview, never got around to giving Cumming any more direction than that. No matter. Cumming sauntered onstage as people were settling back at their tables, picked a man out of the crowd, and started dancing with him. “Watch your hands,” he said. “I lead.”

Cumming’s Emcee was impish, fun, gleefully licentious. The audience loved him. “I have never had less to do with a great performance in one of my shows than I had to do with Alan,” Mendes says.

When Joe Masteroff came to see the show in London, Mendes was nervous. He’d taken plenty of liberties with the script. Cliff, the narrator, was now openly gay. (One night, when Cliff kissed a male lover, a man in the audience shouted, “Rubbish!”) And he made the Emcee a victim of the Nazis. In the final scene, Cumming, in a concentration camp uniform affixed with a yellow Star of David and a pink triangle, is jolted, as if he’s thrown himself onto the electrified fence at Birkenau.

“I should be really pissed with you,” Masteroff told Mendes after the show. “But it works.” Kander liked it too, though he was not happy that the actors didn’t play his score all that well. Ebb hated it. “He wanted more professionalism,” Mendes says. “And he was not wrong. There was a dangerous edge of amateurishness about it.”

The Roundabout Theatre Company brought Cabaret to New York in 1998. Rob Marshall, who would go on to direct the movie Chicago, helped Mendes give the show some Broadway gloss while retaining its grittiness. The two young directors were “challenging each other, pushing each other,” Marshall remembers, “to create something unique.”

Cumming reprised his role as the Emcee. He was on fire. Natasha Richardson, the daughter of Vanessa Redgrave and director Tony Richardson, played Sally Bowles. She was not on fire. She’d never been in a musical before, and when she sang, “There was absolutely no sound coming out,” Kander says.

“She beat herself up about her singing all the time,” Mendes adds. “There was a deep, self-critical aspect of Tash that was instilled by her dad, a brilliant man but extremely cutting.” He once said to her out of nowhere: “We’re going to have to do something about your chin, dear.” As Mendes saw it, she always felt that she could never measure up to her parents.

Kander went to work with her, and slowly a voice emerged. It was not a “polished sound,” Marshall says, but it was haunting, vulnerable. Still, Cumming was walking away with the show. At the first preview, when he took his bow, the audience roared. When Richardson took hers, they were polite. Mendes remembers going backstage and finding her “in tears.” But she persevered and through sheer force of will created a Sally Bowles that “will break your heart,” Masteroff told me the day before I saw that production in the spring of 1998. She did indeed. (Eleven years later, while learning how to ski on a bunny hill on Mont Tremblant, she fell down. She died of a head injury two days later.)

The revival of Cabaret won four Tony Awards, including one for Richardson as best actress in a musical. It ran nearly 2,400 performances at the Roundabout’s Studio 54 and was revived again in 2014. And the money, money, money, as the song goes, poured in. Once Masteroff, having already filed his taxes at the end of a lucrative Cabaret year, went to the mailbox and opened a royalty check for $60,000. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” he snapped.

Rebecca Frecknall grew up on Mendes’s Donmar Warehouse production of Cabaret. The BBC filmed it, and when it aired, her father videotaped it. She watched it “religiously.” But when she came to direct her production, she had to put Mendes’s version out of her mind.

Mendes turned his little theater into a nightclub. Frecknall, working with the brilliant set and costume designer Tom Scutt, has upped the game. They have transformed the entire theater into a Weimar cabaret. You stand in line at the stage door, waiting, you hope, to be let in. Once inside, you’re served drinks while the Kit Kat Club girls dance and flirt with you. The show’s logo is a geometric eye. Scutt sprinkles the motif throughout his sets and costumes. “It’s all part of the voyeurism,” Scutt explains. “The sense of always being watched, always watching—responsibility, culpability, implication, blame.”

REDMAYNE’S EMCEE IS STILL SEXY AND SEDUCTIVE, BUT AS THE SHOW GOES ON HE BECOMES A PUPPET MASTER MANIPULATING THE OTHER CHARACTERS, SOMETIMES TO THEIR DOOM.

Mendes’s Cabaret, like Fosse’s, had a black-and-white aesthetic—black fishnet stockings, black leather coats, a white face for the Emcee. Frecknall and Scutt begin their show with bright colors, which slowly fade to gray as the walls close in on the characters. “Color and individuality—to grayness and homogeneity,” Frecknall says.

As the first woman to direct a major production of Cabaret, Frecknall has focused attention on the Kit Kat Club girls—Rosie, Fritzie, Frenchie, Lulu, and Texas. “Often what I’ve seen in other productions is this homogenized group of pretty, white, skinny girls in their underwear,” she insists. Her Kit Kat Club girls are multiethnic. Some are transgender. Through performances and costumes, they are no longer appendages of the Emcee but vivid characters in their own right.

Her boldest stroke has been to reinvent the Emcee. She and Redmayne have turned him into a force of malevolence. He is still sexy and seductive, but as the show goes on, he becomes a skeletal puppet master manipulating the other characters to, in many cases, their doom. If Cumming’s Emcee was, in the end, a Holocaust victim, Redmayne’s is, in Frecknall’s words, “a perpetrator.”

Unwrapping a grilled cheese sandwich in his enormous Upper West Side townhouse, Kander says that his husband had recently asked him a pointed question: “Did it ever occur to you that all of you guys who created Cabaret were Jewish?”

“Not really,” Kander replied. “We were just trying to put on a show.” Or, as Masteroff once said: “It was a job.”

It’s a “job” that has endured. The producers of the Broadway revival certainly have faith in the show’s staying power. They’ve spent $25 million on the production, a big chunk of it going to reconfigure the August Wilson Theatre into the Kit Kat Club. Audience members will enter through an alleyway, be given a glass of schnapps, and can then enjoy a preshow drink at a variety of lounges designed by Scutt: The Pineapple Room, Red Bar, Green Bar, and Vault Bar. The show will be performed in the round, tables and chairs ringing the stage. And they’ll be able to enjoy a bottle (or two) of top-flight Champagne throughout the performance.

This revival is certainly the most lavish Cabaret in a long time. But there have been hundreds of other, less heralded productions over the years, with more on the way. A few months before Russia invaded Ukraine, Cabaret was running in Moscow. Last December, Concord Theatricals, which licenses the show, authorized a production at the Molodyy Theatre in Kyiv. And a request is in for a production in Israel, the first since the show was produced in Tel Aviv in 2014.

“The interesting thing about the piece is that it seems to change with the times,” Kander says. “Nothing about it seems to be written in stone except its narrative and its implications.”

And whenever someone tells him the show is more relevant than ever, Kander shakes his head and says, “I know. And isn’t that awful?”′

You can also listen the entire article here !!

https://www.vanityfair.com/style/cabaret-revival

I know it's a very long article , but very interesting!!

[elvisabutler]

of all the gin joints in the world

summary: you meet a stranger at a bar who's equally as stood up by his date as you are by yours. or do you? fandom: austin butler | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m pairing: austin butler x priscilla actress reader ( can be read as the one from my series or can be read as just a priscilla actress reader, i know who i pictured for this ) word count: 1903 warnings: roleplay. drinking. some p in v sex in the bathroom. stranger sex except it's really not. unprotected sex. fingering. masturbation ( m ). oral ( f, but a mention of m ). author's note: welcome to kinktober day two: roleplay with austin butler and priscilla actress reader. i had fun with this, because i pictured little dove and austin from my series in their happy happy future but i specifically left out any comments of daddy and the like to make this as open as possible. and truly, y'all can imagine whoever. also. welcome to all my titles just veering wildly from one end of my interests to the complete other end.

"You come here often?" A deep voice asks sliding next to you in what you swear is the most crowded bar in all of Manhattan.

You turn to look at the interloper and frown. He looks out of place, like he got lost on the way to some hipster party where he could talk about how good film is and how digital ruined pictures or maybe he just stumbled off a commune. Jury was still somewhat out on that one.

"Only when I have a date and someone invites me only to ghost me. You?" Your smile when you answer is tight.

"Wouldn't you know it, same deal. Sucks because I kind of liked her." The stranger replies with a shrug as he flags down the bartender and asks for his drink before motioning at you. "And whatever she's having."

"I don't need you to get my drinks, I can pay for them myself." You look between him and the bartender as he leaves. Who did this guy think he was? Did he think you were that depressed that you needed another guy to pick up the slack?

He has to bite his lip from laughing and you find that your eyes are drawn to his lower lip, seeing how it disappears between his teeth, and comes back out looking red and just you find that you want to bite them yourself, just to see how they'd look after he's been kissing someone. You shift in your seat a little before looking at his eyes when he speaks.

"I know, you look like you can." He shrugs. "What do you do for a living, if that's not too personal."

"Actress." You pause for a beat. "Broadway."

"Really? I could have sworn I saw you in a movie. Or something on Netflix. Or was it Hulu." The stranger starts running his thumb over his lower lip and you tilt your head as you purse yours.

"I might have done something on there. Worked with some pretty cool people. What about you?"

His lips curl into a smile. "Actor. Mostly TV parts, a few movies and I did do a play on Broadway but I haven't had my big break. I think it might be coming soon, though. Just starred in a new biopic with this awesome woman playing my wife, but she's already taken by someone else."

Your eyes look him up and down as you try and not laugh. A TV bit part star was trying to buy you drinks. This was not going to end well. Still, he was hot, maybe it wouldn't be totally a waste of time.

A hum escapes your mouth. "It probably will be your big break, you're pretty attractive. And maybe you'll get casted in another Marvel thing, I heard they're looking for another Chris. But that only works if your name is Chris."

The stranger's eyes sparkle with pure joy and happiness for a moment before he opens his mouth and laughs. It's a true and honest one, not one where he's faking it to try and get into your pants. It was refreshing to hear from someone you didn't already know. He shakes his head.

"It's Austin, so I guess they could make city jokes about me?" The bartender has finally come back with both of your drinks and Austin takes that as an opportunity to lean closer to you and grab your drink to put it between the two of you. "I know you have a name to go with that gorgeous face."

You feel your cheeks warm at the compliment as you take a sip of your drink. "Y/N. Are you trying to butter me up?"

He doesn't answer immediately, instead just looking at you with a smirk over the rim of his whiskey. When he sets it down the smirk is still there. "Depends. Is it working?"

You take a sip of your drink and play with the rim of the glass. "Depends. How much do you want to sleep with a famous Broadway actress?"

His hand moves to stroke your arm, before he moves his mouth to the shell of your ear. "A lot. Does the Broadway Actress want to sleep with Elvis?"

You shiver as you turn your head, grabbing the back of his own in a mildly strange contortionist move as you place a kiss against his lips. "I'm too young to have the real thing, so yes please."

At the kiss, Austin lets out a low growl and grabs your hand, pulling the pair of you through a sea of dancing people and people in general before arriving at his intended destination of a bathroom. He stands there for a moment before you take the initiative and push the pair of you in there, jumping on Austin the second the door is shut and locked behind you. His hair is longer than it has been for a while- so he says- but you wouldn't know for sure. You're thankful for it, though, because it gives you something to grip as you lick your way into his mouth, nipping at his lip and lightly at his tongue. You're like a woman begging for water in the desert and Austin is the oasis you find yourself in.

He pulls away from your lips to bite at your neck, knowing he's going to leave marks but not particularly caring. His hands reach between the two of you, managing to unbutton his pants and unbuckle his belt before he pulls them down just enough with his boxer briefs to free his surprisingly hard cock.

"Pull up your dress." He groans into your neck, his hand stroking his cock as he pushes you up against the wall.

It takes you a moment to realize what he's saying but when you do, you use one arm to hold yourself against him, using the wall as added support and shimmy you dress up just enough for him to notice you're not wearing anything underneath.

"Babe-" Austin breaks character, the sight and knowledge that you hadn't been wearing any underwear for however long you had been in the bar doing him in with a low moan as he slides a finger in, noting just how wet you are. "No underwear?"

"Ruins the dress lines, Aus." You answer simply, as if that explains everything. "You're supposed to be fucking me."

That's what snaps Austin out of his stupor and he raises an eyebrow before moving you just enough to slide his cock into you. He hisses at the feel of your cunt around him. He takes a few deep breaths before he speaks again. "Got such a tight pussy, when's the last time anyone fucked you."

Your nails move to his back, scratching at it, clawing at it to try and steady yourself enough to get an answer out to the question. You kiss along Austin's neck for a moment before you finally think of something. "A while. Why do you think I was going on a date, Austin. Wanted to be fucked and if it didn't go well I could leave and toss him."

He chuckles breathlessly. "Is that you telling me you think I'm going to be bad?"

You shrug and smirk, grinding against him even as his cock is inside you. "Maybe. Haven't done anything that special."

That lights a fire in his eyes, his thrusts becoming deeper while also faster, something you didn't think was possible. It makes it almost impossible for you to catch your breath let alone speak but you manage a whimper of his name.

"Nothing special? You look like you're already about to come all over my cock but I'm nothing special." He grunts, his fingers moving to your clit, touching at it just the way you prefer.

You force yourself to look at him. "I haven't come yet."

He takes that a challenge, slowing down in his thrusts but moving his fingers faster against your clit, rubbing it and lightly pinching it. You can feel yourself teetering on the edge but you can tell from being Austin's girlfriend like you have you know he's inching toward his own orgasm even if he won't admit it, even as you can feel his hips starting to stutter a bit. You use your legs to pull him a little closer before kissing up to his earlobe and nipping at it. "But I know someone is about to. Gonna come before you've made me come, Aus? Not very special of you."

It's then that Austin pulls out quickly and you practically shout at the sudden loss of his cock, your cunt trying to clench around nothing as he forces you to stand up before he falls to his knees and buries his face into your pussy before you even have a moment to ask him what he's doing. The moan you let out his nearly pornographic as he uses his tongue to lavish attention on your clit, tracing a figure eight you're particularly fond of. Your hands move to his hair, your fingers curling and yanking it. He moans against you and that's it for you. You try and warn Austin before you come but all that comes out is a whimper of his name and fuck. You take a second to lean against the wall before you look down and see him furiously pumping his cock until he comes into his hand. You had been about to offer sucking him off but apparently he had it handled. It takes both of you a few minutes to feel coherent enough to actually speak.

"So, I think we should do this more often." He says, his knees cracking as he gets up from the floor, grabbing a paper towel to clean off his hands.

You wince at the crack, pulling your dress down and moving to pull up Austin's pants. "You mean roleplay?"

"Yeah, or pretending we're strangers in a bar. Maybe next time we're not actress and actor?" He hums, buttoning up his pants after you've tucked him back in. He kisses your forehead and pulls you close.

"What did you have in mind, Mr. Butler?" Your hand moves to unlock the door to the bathroom as Austin wraps his arm around your shoulder.

"I was thinking doctor and nurse, maybe? Or vampire and his very willing victim?"

You look at Austin as you both walk through the bathroom door, no one the wiser at what had just transpired in the bathroom. Your answer to his options is just a raised eyebrow and a kiss at his clavicle before a nip at his jugular. "I like the second one better, we both know you'd let a vampire who looks like me do whatever I'd like to you."

"We both know it goes both ways. You get first dibs?" He asks pulling you closer as someone moves to touch you realizing who you are. It's not that he minds the fans but its too close to both of you coming that he doesn't want anyone but him touching you.

"You love me, of course I get first dibs, Mr. Stranger."

[best-underrated-anime]

Final List of Submissions

Submissions are closed, and below is the final list. Their names may appear differently from those in the tentative list. They are first listed by their English title, and enclosed in parentheses is their romanized source title as listed on MyAnimeList.

86 (Eighty-Six)

91 Days

A Place Further than the Universe (Sora yori mo Tooi Basho)

ACCA: 13th Territory Inspection Department (ACCA: 13-ku Kansatsu-ka)

After the Rain (Koi wa Ameagari no You ni)

Akiba Maid War (Akiba Meido Sensou)

Akudama Drive

Are You Ok (You Yao)

Asobi Asobase - workshop of fun -

Beryl and Sapphire (Xiaolü He Xiaolan)

Birdie Wing: Golf Girls’ Story

BNA: Brand New Animal

Bunny Drop (Usagi Drop)

By the Grace of the Gods (Kami-tachi ni Hirowareta Otoko)

Charlotte

Do It Yourself!!

Flip Flappers

Flowering Heart

From the New World (Shinsekai Yori)

Gargantia on the Verdurous Planet (Suisei no Galgantia)

Gatchaman Crowds

Girls’ Last Tour (Shoujo Shuumatsu Ryokou)

God Troubles Me (Hanhua Riji)

Gurazeni

Hakumei and Mikochi

Hanasaku Iroha: Blossoms for Tomorrow

Happy Sugar Life

Hinamatsuri

Hitori Bocchi’s ○○ Lifestyle (HitoriBocchi no MaruMaru Seikatsu)

Inuyashiki: Last Hero

Iroduku: The World in Colors

Is it Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon? (Dungeon ni Deai wo Motomeru no wa Machigatteiru Darou ka)

Joshiraku

Kageki Shoujo!!

Karneval

Katana Maidens: Toji no Miko

Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! (Eizouken ni wa Te wo Dasu na!)

Kemurikusa

Kiznaiver

Laughing Under the Clouds (Donten ni Warau)

Legend of Luo Xiaohei (series) (Luo Xiaohei Zhan Ji)

Link Click (Shiguang Dailiren)

Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha ViVid

March Comes in Like a Lion (Sangatsu no Lion)

Mawaru Penguindrum

Megalo Box

Mignon

Moriarty the Patriot (Yuukoku no Moriarty)

My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom! (Otome Game no Hametsu Flag shika Nai Akuyaku Reijou ni Tensei shiteshimatta…)

No Doubt in Us (Liang Bu Yi)

No. 6

Non Non Biyori

Orient

Ping Pong the Animation

Plastic Memories

Please tell me! Galko-chan (Oshiete! Galko-chan)

Pretty Rhythm: Rainbow Live

Radiant

Requiem of the Rose King (Baraou no Souretsu)

RIN-NE (Kyoukai no Rinne)

Rokuhou-dou Yotsuiro Biyori

Run with the Wind (Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru)

School Babysitters (Gakuen Babysitters)

School-Live! (Gakkougurashi!)

Servamp

Shadows House

Shiki

Silver Spoon (Gin no Saji)

Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle (Maoujou de Oyasumi)

Snow White with the Red Hair (Akagami no Shirayuki-hime)

Sonny Boy

Space Brothers (Uchuu Kyoudai)

Stars Align (Hoshiai no Sora)

Symphogear (Senki Zesshou Symphogear)

Talentless Nana (Munou na Nana)

Tamayura: Hitotose

Terror in Resonance (Zankyou no Terror)

The Executioner and Her Way of Life (Shokei Shoujo no Virgin Road)

The Heike Story (Heike Monogatari)

The Morose Mononokean (Fukigen na Mononokean)

The Royal Tutor (Oushitsu Kyoushi Heine)

There’s a Pit in my Senior Martial Brother’s Brain (Wo Jia Dashixiong Naozi You Keng)

To Your Eternity (Fumetsu No Anata E)

Tonari no Seki-kun: The Master of Killing Time

Trese

Tsuritama

Urusei Yatsura (2022)

Vampire in the Garden

Vivy: Fluorite Eye’s Song

Wasteful Days of High School Girls (Joshikousei no Mudazukai)

Welcome to Demon School! Iruma-kun (Marimashita! Iruma-kun)

White Cat Legend 2020 (Dali si Rizhi)

Yurei Deco

Yuuki Yuuna is a Hero (Yuuki Yuuna wa Yuusha de Aru)

Zombieland Saga

[sometimesraven]

Ian's Running Slow

Whumptober No. 12: “I haven't slept in days but who's counting?” Insomnia | “I’m up, I’m up.”

Fandom: Quantum Leap (2022) POV Character: Ian Wright Whumpee: Ian Wright

Ian needs to find Ben. Sleep is secondary.

AO3 Link

Eighty-seven percent. Thirteen percent. Twenty-nine percent. Every roll gave them a different number. Every answer gave them another question. Every new algorithm only had Ian tugging at their hair in frustration.

They tried again. 

Run: Find Ben. If: Janis equipment AND full team. Output: ...... ...... ..... Ninety-six percent.

Good. That was good, right? It had to be good. Unless their code was wrong. They should rewrite the code, just in case they missed a fault that was giving a false positive. That would be fine, right? Would only take a few hours. They glanced at the gap in their curtains, shrugging off the peeking light of morning and reaching for their coffee mug. Empty. Damn. Running a hand through their hair, they pushed themself upright to grab another.

"You're kidding." Ian froze halfway out of the bedroom door, realising with a stifled cuss that they'd entirely forgotten Jenn was here, sound asleep on the bed behind their setup. "This is like... night three."

Ian's fingers tapped anxiously on their mug as they turned around, knowing that without sleep there was no way they were succesfully masking the schoolkid guilt on their face. "It's fine. I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

"No, you-.." Jenn yawned and stretched, pushing herself upright to eye them with the judging gaze that somehow managed to still pierce right through them despite the groggy, half-unfocused haze in her eyes. "You gotta stop this. You can't live on coffee and algorithms, Ian. You need sleep."

"I'll sleep! I just need-.. I have to figure this out, Jenn. I-if I can just figure out how to get Ziggy reconnected with Ben then I'll be able to-"

"For the love of-.." Jenn shook her head, shoving to her feet just to pad over and point at Ian's screen. "This is not finding Ben. You think I didn't notice after day two you started asking it over and over if we'll find Ben? Looks to me like you're using all this as an excuse to avoid sitting down with your thoughts for five seconds. Trust me, I know what that looks like."

"I'm. Fine," Ian reiterated, trying to brush off the way their vision swam a little with the quick change of focus from the bed to the desk. Sure, their hands were a little tingly and the fog in their head was thicker than the one time they mixed pink gin with ketamine as a teenager, but with just a couple more hours they could fix everything. "I just need a little more time."

"In a couple more hours you'll be hallucinating, Ian." Jenn stared them down with more clarity this time, lifting a brow pointedly when the mug they were holding almost slipped out of their hand. "You can't do anything like this. The more you fuck yourself up trying to look for him, the longer Ben's going to be stuck out there."

"You don't-.. You dont understand." Ian laughed, the tiny huff of air making them dizzy. "You don't understand, Jenn. This is my fault. I have to get him back. I have to-.."

Were they hyperventilating? Jenn was across the room before they realised they were falling, catching them awkwardly and dragging them over to sit on the edge of the bed, cradling them gently like a sick child. "Ben knew the risks. He knew what he was getting into. This was always a possibility, Ian."

"Future me's code-.."

"Worked to do exactly what it was supposed to. There was never any guarantee Ben would leap back. And hey-- with the Quantum Leap program shut down there's also no guarantee the apocalypse future will happen." Jenn gently kissed the top of their head, their skin clammy and their hair unwashed. "You saved the world, Ian. It'll help everyone a whole lot more if you believe just for a second that you're capable of that."

Ian blinked, then sharply forced themself out of the daze of sleep trying to take them. "I'm awake! I'm up-.. Just-.. Ben-.. what if-.."

Another blink, and when they opened their eyes again they were laying down, undressed and covered with bedsheets. Their computer was shut down, and there was water by their bedside. Maybe just a little nap wouldn't hurt.

[brian-in-finance]

Video 📹 Forget Me Not Gin Instagram 14 August 2020 (Caitríona posted it 11 August 2020)

The Staff Canteen GrilledLIVE Podcast, streamed 11 April 2023, recorded 8 March 2023 in Glasgow Apple Spotify

Cara Bouchon, Host: We’ve been drinking some lovely wine whilst we’ve been sat here, but Caitríona, you have your own gin, just staying on tipples, Forget Me Not Gin, correct? What made you want to do that, and you’ve done a batch, are you doing another?

Caitríona Balfe, Guest: Yeah, we did one batch. We are in the process of getting it up and running again. Obviously the pandemic happened and Brexit happened… when we did our first batch… Why did I want to do it in the beginning? We were talking, me and my husband*and a friend** of his who’s in the hospitality and drinks business, and we were talking about the Arts and how it’s been so underfunded here, abroad, everywhere I travelled. Governments are slashing support for the Arts left, right, and centre, and we were talking about “what if we did something where we could use a percentage of the profits to give back, and that the whole ethos of the brand would be that it’s about getting artists to help?” We would fund them, we would support them, and in their turn we could have artists use their art and promote it.

We were just riffing and we were “let’s try one batch and see what happens.” We did something like 2000 bottles and it sold within a day, and were were “that’s kind of cool, let’s go and do more of this.” And when we did that, were were able to take the order, ship it, get it to anywhere in Europe within two days. And then Brexit happened, and it was like, “well you can’t do that.” And then to ship to the U.S. there’s a lot of complicated loopholes because there’s a very strange system in the U.S. that still exists since prohibition. And then I got pregnant, so you can’t really be flogging booze when you’re pregnant, so we just put a pause on everything. And we’re about to launch… well, I don’t want to give a time because there’s still stuff we’re sorting out, but we’re going again. It’s coming soon. Forget Me Not is not (forgotten).

Cara: Why gin? Is gin your favourite drink?

Caitríona: Look, I’m somebody who likes a lot of drinks, but gin is something I think you can play around with the flavours in a really interesting way within a very short space of time. Obviously, if you want to do a real whisky or things like that, that takes a long time to get them aged and all of that.

I love a gin during the summer. So it’s about being able to… hopefully we do this one, our staple, and then I would like to do interesting flavours. The idea is to build special batches and stuff like that, make it something that’s a little bit more unique and have artists come in, or have people come in, to put their stamp on it as well, and work in conjunction with people.

And we’re working with SWG3***, we’re going to fund artist spaces. We’ve done it with our last batch. We’re going to do that continuing, and we hope to do those projects in various different countries as well.

It’s to do something fun. I like to do things like this in terms of it’s an interesting outlet for me in a different type of creative way, and it’s also something where I can invest in stuff I’m interested in and help in a way.

I’m not necessarily… I’m not going to take over the gin business for the rest of the world. It’s fun.

FMN DRINKS (UK) LIMITED, incorporated 14 December 2022. Directors: Caitríona Mary Balfe, Duncan Glen Frew**, Anthony Gerard McGill*

SWG3 Studio Warehouse***, Glasgow

Photo: Forget Me Not Gin on Instagram

Remember… it’s to do something fun… and it’s also something where I can invest in stuff I’m interested in and help in a way. — Caitríona Balfe

[milky-fixx]

gnaw

bleach | izuru kira x reader 

prompt: ghoul + restraints (monsterfucker kinktober 2022) 

summary: post-accident, izuru struggles to keep both his hunger under wraps, and his relationship intact. but as he finds the frayed edges of his control slipping, so does your presence in his life. 

word count: 6.3k omg

cw: 18+, afab reader, ghoul!au, monsters that eat humans, reader is not eaten (other people are though), mentions of starvation, suicidal ideation, blood, vomiting, forced feeding, muzzles, handcuffs, last 2k is where all the smut is tbqh—the rest is angst

—

Hunger, Izuru thinks, is a sensation worse than death.

He’s tasted death on his tongue–a sharp, metallic tang. Pain that swallowed him whole, that spit him back out into this world, starving. Hungering.

(He’s tasted death in another way, as well.)

But hunger is all-encompassing. All he can think about lately.

He eyes the katsu curry dish you’ve made before him. The rich brown of the curry, the crispness of the pork, the warmth of the rice–these are all things that should appeal to him. You at the very least, seem to be enjoying yourself, chattering away, spooning the curry and rice mixture into your mouth. Izuru lets a ghost of a smile grace his face. He doesn’t breathe, but the overwhelming stench of food still churns his gut. His plate remains untouched.

“Are you sure you don’t want to eat something, Izuru?” you ask again suddenly, and he’s snapped out of his daze.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.” His smile tightens. The gnawing, expanding feeling in his stomach seems to worsen. He places a hand over his mouth, hoping to feign the illness he’d told you has been afflicting him since his hospital stay months back.

Loss of appetite. Nausea at the smell of food.

Well, one type of food.

There is another thought that occurs to him, one that he can’t voice. One that seems to increasingly haunt his day-to-day life, threatens to break the quaint domesticity the two of you have.

He could bite you. That would certainly fill his appetite.

He digs his fingernails into his palms, feeling crescents dig into his palm.

God, he could never tell you.

How could you look at him the same?

—

“Moved in with ‘em?” Gin drawls, his ever-present smirk on his face. Izuru hates the amusement his mentor drives from this particular situation, hates the truth of him. (The man he looked up to the most, who turned out to be nothing but a monster, who’s cursed him to this same fate.)

But why wouldn’t Gin find this funny?

Izuru is playing with fire.

“Yer’ somethin,’ aren’t’cha? Didn’t know you liked ta’ play with yer food before ya ate it~”

“They’re not food,” he says tersely, eyes trained on the way the flesh gives in beneath Gin’s hands. Gin used to mock him, say that he should be hunting for his own food, that their kind was known to get territorial. But that was before he found out the most amusing news:

That Izuru Kira post-accident is still trying to make things work with his human partner. That even more than that, he’s now living with them. The very thought seemed to be enough for him to dangle this lifeline in front of Izuru.

Izuru doesn’t even flinch as blood splatters across his face.

—

Izuru has always been into tragedies.

Ever since he was a kid. Ever since he’s been aware enough of his wretched existence. And if his life before the accident was act one, this was certainly the second half leading up to a tragic finale.

His hand grips the bathroom sink, leaning over it. His saliva feels stuck to the roof of his mouth, his tongue unbearably dry.

He can smell you, just beyond the shower curtain. Water slicking down your body, rivulets dipping beneath your flesh, the warm, wet musk of sweat. Izuru is so hungry, he’s starting to think his appetite pulling the strings here, and he’s a mindless puppet agreeing to its whims.

How long has it been? Two weeks, maybe three since he last saw Ichimaru? With the lockdowns in the city, it had been hard, so hard to get any source of sustenance.

Gin has his ways of course. Ways that Izuru wishes he could turn a blind eye to. He’s not completely a monster. No matter how much Gin insists they are.

Didn’t know you liked ta’ play with yer food before ya ate it, his words replay in Izuru’s mind.

When you come out of the shower, nuzzling up to him, it takes everything in him to appear relaxed. But then his gaze dips to the curve of your collarbone, the smooth softness of your skin. He’s horrified to find he has to swallow down the saliva accumulating in his mouth.

You’re not food.

You’re not food–

“You should get dressed,” he says suddenly, swallowing down the gnawing hunger inside him, threatening to take shape. He can’t. He can’t–

“Please,” he adds, shaking you off of him. You give him a hurt look, and Izuru squeezes his eyes shut. He can deal with you upset; anything is better than you knowing the truth.

And when he falls into bed with you, it takes everything in him to not lean over and bare his teeth. He lies stiffly on his side, praying to the powers above that you don’t press him.

You two haven’t been intimate in awhile, not since before the accident. He can’t trust himself, his hunger, to not act. Just the thought of your bare flesh, the faint taste of your body wash, has him near delirious.

You’re not food. You’re not food at all.

He loves you. He loves you so much he’s willing to bear the pangs of hunger just to be this close to you.

Oh, he’s such a fool.

—

Cohabitation tests the very limits of his control. If it’s not the shower, it’s you curled up next to him in bed, your shirt riding up, displaying a delicious sliver of your skin.

If it’s not that, it’s you kissing him, the taste of your lips on his nearly high enough to get him drunk. He has to control himself, the part of him that wants so desperately to turn his lips on your neck, into his teeth, into a bite, into gnawing—

He’s distant.

He doesn’t mean to be, but it’s tearing up at him. He downs endless amounts of coffee a day, only leaves the house to get that. At some point, even you’ve noticed his consumption, expressed concern over his increasingly gaunt visage.

You’ve noticed by now, surely you’ve noticed something is off.

Izuru eats it all. Your curry, your udon, your fried rice, anything to keep you happy. And then, when you’re busy washing dishes, he does his best to vomit it all up, the taste of bile in his throat somehow making his hunger even more pronounced.

—

Gin’s words reverberate in his head.

“How’s yer cute lil’ human gonna react when they find out what ya’ gotta eat to stay alive? When you take a lil nibble out of ‘em?”

“It’s a mistake, ya’ know? Humans don’t like us; they’re terrified of us, even.” He grins, a spot of blood on his chin shining in the sun.

“Is’not gonna end well.”

—

No. Izuru isn’t the main character of a tragedy. He’s not some forlorn Romeo, sworn to kill you by his own hand. He can overcome this, this gnawing hunger to be by you, one step at a time.

He bites down on his hand until he feels the skin tear. The way it doesn’t even null the hunger in the slightest sends him spiraling.

—

“W-We’re doing this now?”

Izuru hadn’t considered that you would take action. That you are just as much of a character in this play as he is. That you want something.

Him. His body. The proof that you two, your relationship, is fine. Surely you’ve noticed his distance.

Foolishly, he lets you.

He’s been so hungry. He hasn’t fed in weeks.

He would hate himself if he did something to you.

(At the same time, part of him craves this. The intimacy or your flesh–he’s not sure. He doesn’t want to know. Doesn’t want to think about how much of a monster he’s become–)

He overestimates his control.

Your neck bared before him. He can’t resist. His teeth dig into the flesh of your neck. He moans as your blood rushes hot and warm into his mouth.

You scream.

—

He fucked up.

Hefuckedup, hefuckedup, hefuckedup.

Izuru stares mournfully at the scene. Momo treats your wound as you sit, dazed. Your scream snapped him out of his frenzy. In a daze, he called her–thankfully, he had enough sense to. He’s not even sure how she understood his frantic voice over the phone.

There was blood, so much blood. Your blood. Everywhere. On the floor. In his mouth.

You’re shaking, gone pale. You passed out once already. From the pain? Shock? Izuru can only imagine.

He’s backed into the corner of a wall, biting down on his palm. He’s sure he must make a ghastly sight; his eyes must be pitch black, with red sclera. His mouth painted red with your blood. The look of a monster.

You’re trying your best not to stare at him. The one time you do glance over, you flinch.

Monster.

He is a monster.

He hurt you.

He tried to eat you.

He wanted to eat you, and he would have.

Momo is calmly trying to explain what’s happened to him, the accident, what he’s become. Their lifestyle. Their diet. And from the way you momentarily give her a look of fear, Izuru knows that you know she’s the same kind of monster he is.

Izuru knows he should be by your side, he should be there for you. But he’s the one who hurt you in the first place. And that very knowledge makes him want to run. Run far away, run from himself.

So he does.

—

When Gin finds him, bloodied and blank-stared, of course he knows what happens. It’s written all over Izuru’s face.

“Maybe it’ll be a good lesson for ya.’ Bet you were tryna create one of those tragic endings ya’ like readin’ about so much.”

Izuru says nothing, even as his mentor drags him back to his apartment. Shoves him onto the floor. Throws a slab of something in front of him.

His mouth stays shut.

The taste of you lingers on his tongue.

—

“Izuru? Can we… talk? You left without saying anything…”

“Izuru, I’m sorry. Momo kind of explained to me… I don’t blame you. I’m sorry for not realizing you’ve been struggling this badly with your… appetite.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster.”

“I do think I deserve some kind of closure, though.”

“Izuru, I’m getting worried. It’s been almost two weeks. The bite’s almost healed. Are you even…”

“Izuru, where are you?”

Voicemail box full. Message cannot be saved.

—

Izuru wants to waste away.

He doesn’t deserve to exist.

Not in this form, not if all he can do is bring harm to others.

He tries to starve. Wants to see how long his kind can survive without human flesh before wasting away. He’s scornful. He hates this life, hates his new diet.

But fate is cruel. His mentor is cruel. Gin forces bits of flesh into his mouth that keep him alive. No matter how much Izuru tries to retch it back up, to reject it… his body craves it. The satiation that floods through him after every bite disgusts him.

He’s truly a monster.

Gin is definitely amused by his predicament.

He’s so weak, he slips in and out of consciousness. Gin feeds him just enough to stay alive, but not enough to stay awake. There are images, memories that play in his mind. His subconscious cruelly reminding him of what he’d lost.

The first time you met.

(“Um, excuse me? Is this the Intro to Poetry class with Dr. Tosen?”

The two of you became class partners, sharing poetry with one another. Izuru fell in love with you from the words on the page you breathed life into. He could only hope that you felt the same, that his artistic sensitivity spoke to you.

He confessed to you with a haiku, comparing his love to a new spring day.

You were smart enough to realize that he was talking about you.)

The accident.

(Walking down the street in the dead of the night, Izuru had stayed late in the library to work on his dissertation. He’d made a breakthrough that he was excited to share with you once he got home. He didn’t see the car swerving towards him. The car clearly didn’t make out his figure in the dim streetlight.

The crash was instantaneous. The pain everywhere. Izuru’s head hit the pavement, his vision blacked out.

“Well, well, yer’ in pretty bad shape. I’d even say yer a dead man.”

The familiar voice of his advisor. He tried to open his eyes. Everything was a blur. Before he lost consciousness, the last thing he saw were Gin’s eyes. Open, for the first time. Black with red sclera.

Gin leaned down.

Pain tore into Izuru’s shoulder, ripped him anew.)

The day after.

When he awoke, all he felt was the burning pang of hunger.

It hasn’t stopped since.

—

“Izuru?”

A familiar voice. Smell.

A gentle nudge to his shoulder.

“Are you awake?”

Definitely familiar.

His hunger must truly be getting to him, if now he’s hallucinating about you.

“Izuru? Can you hear me?”

After all, why would you be in front of him? How would you know where he even is?

Nonetheless, a part of him wants to linger in this fantasy. One where you care enough to look for him. Where nothing bad happened. Where the two of you could still be together.

“Is he okay?”

A small furrow forms between his brows. Is someone else here? Who else would be in this fantasy–

A sharp blow to the back of his head, right above his neck. Izuru lurches forward, coughing.

“Yah, he’s fine. Just a lil’ slow is all. Lack of food, y’know? Too busy mopin’ ‘bout his own life.”

Ichimaru? Why would you and Ichimaru be in the same hallucination?

Then Izuru’s eyes snap open. Why would you and Ichimaru be in the same room? Only if you were dinner–

He swivels his head upwards, calling out your name in a panic. Only to meet your surprised face, inches from his, from where you’re kneeling in front of him.  

“Ah–” The two of you stare at each other for a beat.

Izuru calls out your name, and that breaks the moment. He’s taken aback when you wrap your arms around him. Blinking several times, he realizes that no, this isn’t a dream. The thrum of your heart next to his ear, the soft give of your body. It’s all real.

He murmurs your name. His eyes slip shut as he returns your hug, slumping against you.

The illusion of normalcy. He may as well enjoy it while it lasts.

It takes a moment for him to realize you’re talking to him.

“...I was so worried you had died or–or something worse. Do you have any idea how stressful the past few weeks have been?” you ask, pushing back from him to give him a stern look.

Izuru’s mouth feels dry now for another reason.

“I… I’m sorry,” he says weakly.

“You better be sorry, Izuru. It’s one thing to find out that you’re a… you know, but then to go weeks without hearing from you? What the hell?”

“I…” His brow furrows. This is not at all the response he expected. “I didn’t… I thought it would be better if I had…”

“What? Disappeared?” You scrutinize him, before sighing. Reaching towards him to ruffle his hair. “Look, it’s not okay to just disappear when problems occur, Izu. Haven’t we talked about this before? It makes me worry…”

“I’m sorry,” Izuru says again, because at this point that’s all he thinks he can say. He’s sorry he’s a monster. He’s sorry he’s like this. He’s sorry that he’s showing such a pitiful display in front of you. He’s sorry, he’s sorry, he’s sorry.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I didn’t know if you still wanted to… be around me. After… well…”

His gaze darts to your shoulder, which you’ve mostly covered up. A sliver of gauze peeks through, and his visage darkens. You catch his eye, shifting your shirt to better cover the wound.

“Well,” Gin says suddenly, clapping his hands. It startles you both; neither of you seem to have remembered your audience. “‘M glad yer here to get this moper outta here. Much as it was fun ta’ watch, he’s really been dampenin’ the mood all ‘round.”

Izuru jolts. “What? N-No, I can’t go back. I can’t!”

“Ya’ gotta learn how to live with humans, ya’ know? It helps ta’ stay full.” Gin gives him a sharp look.

Izuru stares at him, aghast. “What if something happens? If I… if I lose control again…” He glances towards you helplessly. “I don’t think I could live with myself,” he says lowly.

“If you get hungry,” you offer, hesitantly. “Momo left a few things you can eat. In the fridge. B-Back at my place.”

His stomach churns. He can’t imagine how awful it is for you to know what he subsists on. His diet. You must be disgusted with him. Surely.

“Well, ya’ two lovebirds, I’mma have to kick you out,” Gin interrupts. “Rangiku’s comin’ over in a few. I ain’t got all day. Kira, do yer best not to eat yer cute lil’ human this time~”

Before Izuru knows it, Ichimaru is slamming the door in both of your faces.

He worries his bottom lip with his teeth, hard enough that he can taste blood. His own. When he speaks, his voice is shaky. 

“If… if you want, I can find another friend to stay with. Momo, maybe. I understand if you don’t feel safe around me–”

You cough meaningfully. He stops, shifting awkwardly in place. 

You sigh. “Izuru… what part of ‘I’m not afraid of you’ do you not get?”

“Truthfully? All of it,” he says blandly. “I think you’re insane.” You jab him in the ribs, and he inhales sharply. “Ow. Okay, sorry. But really... why aren’t you afraid of me?” He rubs his side, a frown etched into his features. “I would be.”

“Well, I’m not.”

His look is disbelieving, and you elaborate. “I… I mean like, I kind of get it. If I was starving and had only like… almonds to eat, I would also probably chow down on the closest burger when presented before me.”

He looks horrified. You have to bite down on your lip to hold your laugh. “Sorry! That’s kind of how Momo described it to me.”

“You’re not a… burger. Or food.” He frowns. “I need to talk to Momo about her analogies…” he mutters dismally.

You laugh this time, and Izuru, despite the stress of the situation, relaxes slightly at the familiar sound. God, he’s missed it. 

“I may have taken liberties with her explanation,” you admit. Your mirth trails off as you clear your throat. “So, are you finally going to believe me when I say I want to be around you still?”

Izuru surveys you cautiously. Not to determine his answer, but to gauge your reaction.

“No.”

“That’s… very characteristic of you. I guess you won’t believe me until we’re back home and I haven’t locked you out.”

He musters up a hint of a smile to give you.

As the two of you walk home, your hand nudges his. Once. Then twice. By the third time, Izuru grasps it.

He doesn’t understand it, but you still want him.

And for now, that’s all he needs to know. 

—

Once the two of you are outside the door to your apartment, he tugs on your wrist.

“Look I… I can’t promise I won’t…” Izuru frowns, trying to find the words. The past few weeks have taken their toll on him mentally. “That it won’t happen again. I’m not… who you think I am. Not anymore.”

You tilt your head to the side. The action is so endearing that despite himself, Izuru reaches out, cupping your cheek with his thin fingers. He leans down, eyes dark, close enough until your noses brush against each other. 

He wants to kiss you.

He wants so badly to taste you.

But a glance at your bandaged shoulder reminds him of what he needs to do first, and he pulls back, steeling himself. 

“I couldn’t live with myself if I did something bad to you again. I don’t…” He inhales sharply. “I don’t deserve the second chance you’re giving me. But if something were to happen, please. Stop me. Do whatever it takes.” 

“Don’t show me mercy, no matter what.”

You glance askew, seeming to ponder the weight of his words. While Izuru feels relief, it’s tinged with anxiety. Maybe he’s finally finally gotten through to you. Maybe you’re regretting the decision to seek him out. 

But he’s giving you an out. A chance to turn him down. 

You don’t have to doom yourself to a fate with him. He’ll understand if you’d rather break things off here and now. Despite how much something in his gut seems to churn at the very thought. 

You can go back to your normal life, and pretend he never happened. And he can go back to trying to adjust to his new life, all while ignoring the pang in his chest whenever the thought of you crosses his mind....

“Ah!” you exclaim suddenly. Izuru looks at you curiously. “That must be why he gave me this... One second.” You rummage through your bag. “Your advisor--Ichimaru, is it?--handed this to me before we left.” You pull out the object. Izuru stares.

And stares.

It’s a muzzle.

A leather muzzle, with an intricate layout of straps and buckles. Certainly too big to fit a dog’s mouth. Perhaps meant to fit a human.

Izuru pales at the implication. “Ichimaru… gave this to you?”

“Yeah! He said he, uh...” Your voice lowers as you glance around conspiratorially. “He said he found it in a sex shop. He thought you might need it...”

Izuru suddenly feels ill. He’s certain he turns a shade of green. You catch sight of his expression and quickly clarify.

“Don’t worry! It should be unused.”

“That… that’s not the problem!” he whispers back furiously, glancing around before quickly unlocking your door. He ushers the two of you inside, hoping to the powers above that no has caught sight of or heard your indecency. 

If one of your neighbors saw you brandishing a muzzle before him… and admitting it’s from a sex shop… he doesn’t think he would ever be able to live it down.

That damn Ichimaru.

—

He dons it. 

Because he doesn’t trust himself, because he still can’t determine if he’s staring at you with hunger in the literal sense or hunger in the sense of wanting you close to him…. Izuru dons the muzzle.

It’s dehumanizing, but surprisingly not nearly as uncomfortable as he assumed it would be. The leather is thick, sturdily made. He can talk through it, but it’s muffled. He certainly can’t open his mouth at all to bite.

In some ways, it’s an ideal solution, he begrudgingly admits.

Before he puts it on, he does sneak some of the food Momo had left in the fridge for him, in an inconspicuous brown bag labeled with his name. He’s decided if he’s going to be around you, Ichimaru is right. He needs to make sure he’s not starving. You keep your gaze trained on the wall behind you as he eats. Izuru suggests you leave the room, not wanting you to see the ghastly sight of him, but you stay. He tries to eat quickly, discreetly. 

He leaves the room only to brush his teeth, to rid himself of the taste of blood on his mouth. For your sake. In case... he flushes at the thought. 

In case you feel like kissing him, at all.

The stress of the day seems to have gotten to you both, though, and you decide to retire early for the night. Izuru follows you to the bedroom, feeling weary from his own several weeks of psychological torment. 

Which leads to his current predicament. 

Izuru lies stiff next to you in bed. He’s turned to one side, his back to you.

You’re so warm, so soft. He can practically feel the thrum of your blood with his heightened senses.

Izuru turns towards you. You’re sleeping peacefully, your hand outstretched towards him. Your hair is in disarray, and as he watches, a bit of drool escapes your mouth.

He cracks a smile, brushing some of the hair from your face.

Izuru’s hand trails down to the shoulder he bit, and lightly skims the bandage covering your wound. Then, before he can stop himself, his hand strays even lower, until it’s hovering right above your heart. He’s never found the steady beat of your heart more comforting than he does now. It’s a sign that you’re alive. That his hunger hadn’t consumed him completely.

His eyes flutter shut as he presses his palm against your chest.

He realizes too late just what part of you he’s touching when his finger brushes against a nipple, hardened and poking through your shirt. He freezes, his hand stilling.

How long has it been since he’s felt your body against his–bared, nothing but skin against skin?

Images flash through his mind, and despite himself, Izuru’s body feels hot. His gaze trails back up to your injured shoulder, and the thought–awful as it is–occurs to him.

What if he gave you a matching bite on the other side?

Izuru shakes his head to rid himself of the thought. He shifts uncomfortably. Heat pools down to below his gut, where it simmers.  

Of all the times to get an erection, certainly the worst was while trying not to devour your loved one.

Izuru signs through the muzzle, adjusting himself once more. He wills himself to think of the most painful things he can–his accident, Gin’s shopping escapades, that time Momo dropped a bowling ball on his foot.

Maybe it’s his proximity to you. Maybe it’s the inherent deviancy of needing restraints to not ravish you–in which way, he wasn’t sure. 

But Izuru revisits the thought of biting you, one that disturbed him only a few moments ago. Yet now… it seems different. Rather than his literal desire for your flesh Izuru realizes the appeal of the idea of biting you can be sexual. 

Marking you. Letting everyone know that you’re his. Leaving physical proof of his love on your flesh.

His.

His lover.

Offering themselves up to him. 

Letting him back into their life, even knowing of his monstrous nature.

Allowing him to feast on them, both literally and carnally.

Izuru inhales sharply. He flexes his thighs, pressing his hips against the band of his boxers. He’s so turned on, it’s starting to hurt. He briefly considers taking care of himself in the bathroom, in privacy. Where he can’t disturb you.

You’re so tired. He’s already inconvenienced you this far. He can’t bother you with something as trivial as this. 

Izuru tries his best to escape the bed quietly, but it creaks under his weight. You’ve never been a light sleeper, but suddenly you’re awake, your voice cutting through the fog of his desire. 

“Izuru? You okay?”

“Mmf.” He tries to say yes, but it’s muffled through the muzzle. It’s too late. You’re already turning on the lights. You give him a once-over, and Izuru’s whole body flushes once your eyes are drawn to his groin. He glances down, and his worst fears are realized. A wet patch stains the front of his boxers. Mortification washes through him.

“Oh. Um…”

He shakes his head furiously, grabbing a pillow to hide his shame. This isn’t what it looks like! He isn’t some pervert that gets off to being bound! But his own body betrays him.

“I didn’t know these kinds of things turned you on, Izuru,” you finally say.

He wants to die of embarrassment. Is it too late to go back to Gin’s place?

Scratch that. Ichimaru was the one who bought this damn muzzle in the first place.

“It’s… it’s okay. It’s been awhile since we’ve done anything. Plus with what’s happened lately… it makes sense that you’re… you know. Pent-up?”

Nope, nope it doesn’t. Izuru doesn’t want to discuss his bodily functions right now. Not when he’s still stiff, not when he was about to take care of it himself, without burdening you. 

He jerks his head towards the bathroom door, resolutely refusing to glance at you. 

But you reach out, before pausing. Your hand brushes his wrist holding the pillow to himself. You tilt your head. “Can I help?”

Izuru stares at you, uncomprehending. 

“Like… I mean. I wouldn’t mind helping you out there,” you say, your gaze darting to the pillow before back up at him. Seeking permission. 

Izuru weighs his options. 

Is it more pitiful to bother you with his bodily needs? Or to be jerking off in the bathroom alone after declining his lover’s offer to help?

He can’t decide. But eventually he nods. 

After you stare at him expectantly for several seconds, he realizes that he needs to uncover himself. Right.

He drops the pillow uncertainly, and to your credit, you don’t look down. His hands fumble with the sides his boxers, before tugging them down. He doesn’t know why—you two have definitely seen each other naked before, a few times, in fact—but something about this feels like new territory. 

He finally yanks them down completely. His cock springs up, a trail of precome sticking to his underwear. He grimaces, but your eyes seem drawn to the sight. Izuru shuffles towards the bed, nearly tripping over his boxers. He stumbles, face turning red beneath the mask as he kicks them off the rest of the way. Unsure of how to position himself, he settles for half-kneeling on the bed with one leg, standing with the other. 

Your hand on his cock is sudden, and nearly has him toppling over. It’s been so long, and your hand is so soft, your grip so sure. Izuru hisses through the muzzle, bucking his hips into your touch. You stroke him, tugging his foreskin over the weeping head of his cock, and Izuru’s eyes near roll into the back of his head. 

As you pump him, he realizes belatedly that the soft, keening sounds are coming from him, which he soon silences.

“Aw~ I liked hearing you,” you tease. He flushes.

Your mouth lapping at the tip of his cock nearly has him cumming right then and there. As it is, his balls clench, and he doubles over, grasping your hand. 

“Hm?” you ask. He shakes his head rapidly. “Oh, close?”

He nods.

“Want me to stop?”

“Mnn,” he says. Yes. He doesn’t want to finish so soon when it’s your first time together in awhile. He tugs at the strap of your shirt, and you get the hint. After you discard the shirt, he gestures at your panties.

“Wanna be inside?”

He nods tersely, his eyes trained keenly on the sight of your pussy being revealed to him. Your folds glisten as you remove your panties, strings of your arousal sticking to the fabric. Even through the leather muzzle, he can smell you, needy and wet for him. It makes his cock throb.

Izuru wastes little time in mounting you, his hands digging into the bedsheets as he positions himself over you. He thrusts, and your combined juices make him glide right past your entrance. He huffs in annoyance, and your hand comes down to grasp his length. Carefully you guide him into you, the both of you inhaling sharply once he thrusts all the way, until his hips meet yours. 

This time Izuru’s eyes do roll to the back of his head. Fuck. Has he felt anything more divine? He’d write odes to how good you feel around him.

Izuru thrusts slowly, dragging his cock along your entrance before sinking back in. He’s breathing harshly through his mask. Your walls clench tight around him, drawing him in, refusing to let go. 

He’d be a fool if he did. 

His cock rubs against a certain spot inside you, and you clench around him particularly tight. He grunts, pleasure building in his balls. Fuck, he’s close. 

His hands grip your sheets tightly, balling them into fists.

Not mindful of his newfound strength from feeding so recently.

Riiiip.

Fabric tears beneath you. 

The both of you still at the sound. Izuru releases his fists, and torn shreds of your bedsheets flutter onto the bed.

Your jaw drops.

He looks mortified. He slips out of you.

You turn around to survey the damage. While your bedsheet is mostly intact, there are two giant, jagged tears ripped across it. 

“Did you…”

Izuru hangs his head. He is truly a beast now. 

“Hey, i-it’s okay! Um, he said this also might happen... Can you pass me my bag?” Izuru reaches down to grab it, handing it to you. You rummage through it. “It’s a good thing your advisor also gave me these,” you say, before pulling out a pair of--a pair of--

Izuru stares blankly at the item in your hand.

First the muzzle. Now handcuffs.

Steel handcuffs.

Surely, Ichimaru knew these wouldn’t be used for innocent reasons only. The fact that he knows about his sex life--knows enough that he figured Izuru would lose control and would need these things--makes him want to perish. 

His cock flags a bit, truthfully.

You notice Izuru’s despair, and shrug, attempting to brighten the mood. 

“I mean, if it comes in handy...”

Dully, he reaches his hands out to you, allows you to cuff him. He’ll try his best to will the thought of Ichimaru out of the bedroom. Even if the thought of his advisor knowing the intimate details of his sex life threatens to ruin the mood.

Izuru shakes his head to rid himself of the thoughts. Once he’s bound, you have him lie on his back. Ah. It is harder for him to be on top now, he supposes.

“Everything good?”

He nods stiffly, still not quite over his mortification. You seem to realize that you’ll have to get him back into the mood, and you settle between his legs, spreading his thighs apart. 

“Relax, Izu. Keep your focus on me, okay?”

Your mouth descends on him again. He attempts to do as you instruct, but finds it difficult. With how skilled you are--lapping at the tip of his cock, hands pumping him at the base, stroking him to full hardness again--he finds pressure building once again at the base of his cock. He adjusts his hips, accidentally thrusting deeper into your throat. His toes curl into the now-ruined bedsheets as you choke.

He’s frantically offering muffled apologies through the muzzle, but you wave them off, wiping spit from your chin. You straddle his hips, sliding your slick against his cock. He struggles against the handcuffs, wanting desperately to guide himself back into you. 

Izuru leans his head back once he finally feels your wet, hot pussy engulf his stiff cock, the muscles in his neck straining. 

He shudders, jerking his hips up into you. Your hands find purchase on his thighs as you push yourself up, before dropping yourself onto his cock. Grinding your hips against his, you lean down. He lifts his cuffed hands up, and you slip under them, burying your face into his neck. Izuru can’t kiss you, but he nudges his muzzle against your head, dropping his hands to hold you to him. 

He rolls his hips against yours, inching in deeper. Your mewls and soft moans are ambrosia he would gladly get drunk on.

“Oh god, Izu… you feel so good.”

Is he making you feel good? He bets he could make you feel better. He digs his heels into the bed, flexing his hips, his cock aiming for that spot inside you that has you moaning loud, clenching tight around him. “Fuck!” you exclaim.

You hump him, working yourself towards your own orgasm. Izuru’s eyes flutter shut, his brow tensing. He’s breathing hard again. His hands flex against the cuffs, wanting desperately to remove them; his teeth dig into the muzzle, wishing it was off.There are so many things he wants to do to you that he can’t. 

Grasp your hips, make you ride him harder. Cup your face, kiss you deeply, whisper praises of how beautiful you look above him. Wrap you in his arms, and thrust into you, deeply enough that your bodies meld together.

But there’s time for that. Practice. Patience. He yearns for the day he can be with you, like this, without these kinds of barriers. 

For now though, he’ll try to make the most of them. 

You’re gasping and moaning his name, and you press your lips to his forehead, the one part of his face that you can access. The muzzle digs uncomfortably into your neck, but Izuru keeps you to him, his hips moving more fervently now. They’re bucking up into you, aiming with deadly precision at the spot that has you spiraling. 

When you cum, it’s with a stuttering cry of his name. 

“Izuru! Fuck. I love you.”

“Mmph!” Your pussy clenches hard around him, and Izuru loses it. His vision goes white from the intensity of his orgasm. He thrusts into you as deeply as he can. Spilling himself into you in spurts, until you’re overflowing with him, until it’s dribbling out and back onto him in milky trails.

Tiredly, he clutches you to him. He’s more exhausted now than he’s been in the past two weeks. The cuffs dig into his wrists, and he has to adjust them.

You shift until your face is level with his. Izuru flinches as the movement causes his softening cock to slip out from inside you. 

Your fingers card through his sweaty locks, brushing the hair from his face. 

“I do love you,” you tell him earnestly. “Human or not.”

Izuru tries to draw you closer to him. You notice the awkward movements from his cuffed hands, and unlock them. Now freed, he holds you to him closely, his chin resting on your head. 

You don’t need to hear him to tell what he’s thinking. 

I feel the same. 

[maximumwobblerbanditdonut]

Remember SH hinted at something big for Scotland in his interview?

It's a new company called...

LATHA ÙR LTD

LATHA ÙR - (Scottish Gaelic) A NEW DAY

LATHA ÙR LTD is an active private limited company, incorporated on 31 January 2023. The nature of the business is Distilling, rectifying and blending spirits. The company's registered office is on Dublin Street, Edinburgh. The company's next accounts are due on 31 October 2024 and fall under the category of the account.

What does this mean?

Distilling, rectifying and blending of spirits: In this class includes the manufacture of distilled, potable, alcoholic beverages: whisky, brandy, gin, and liqueurs- manufacture of drinks mixed with distilled alcoholic beverages- blending of distilled spirits- production of neutral spirits.

Memorandum of association

This is a memorandum of association a type of business document that is used as part of the incorporation process to form SH's new company and helps define the relationship between that new company. A memorandum of association is required as part of the documentation required for incorporation in the United Kingdom. The essential information within a partnership memorandum focuses on stating that certain people [SH+AN] want to form a legally incorporated company and is willing to share capital to finance the company's activities. Depending on the government regulations that apply to the content of the memorandum, it may be necessary to define what the partners will receive in exchange for their investment, such as shares. It’s necessary to identify the name of the company [Latha Ùr] a permanent business address [Dublin Street, Edinburgh] and the type of company they wish to form [private Limited company]

SH said in his SMWS interview he has a couple of projects he's working on (well it seems this definitely isn’t an acting project).

His decision is not surprising, He's certainly no stranger to splashing the cash on his merchandising, but he may not be aware that other, more important things symbolise something really big for Scotland, something culturally known and teamed by Scots, but it's all become a target, his merchandise, and his friends in the Scottish media will be promoting him with free publicity.

With this entrepreneurship, SH will allow his new product development [maybe Scottish GIN] to happen in his new business. Now, will have a distillery for his alcohol may be Scottish in origin, made and distilled in his still distillery. Scotland boasts over 90 distilleries that make their gin with even more planned. This leads to the market becoming so saturated that many brands are ignored in consumer searches for Gin products, even if a newcomer to the market has exactly what the consumer is looking for. Perhaps he hopes his fans will help the company grow, as they have done so far in everything Sam does.

He wants to copy Diageo even with a similar name. Diageo is composed of the Latin word diēs, meaning "day", and the Greek root geo-, meaning "world". LATHA ÙR (Scottish Gaelic) latha, meaning “day” and ùr, meaning “new”. Or perhaps SH expects Diageo to be keen to buy his brand after acquiring spirits firms in recent months. He will spend more time in this business if he wants to secure he’s ready to start trading immediately.

Now, SH will become a member of The Gin Cooperative, where he was judging panel Gin Awards 2022, open exclusively to Scotland’s gin makers and brand owners. Members must be based in Scotland, their gins must be distilled, rectified or cold compound (complete process) in Scotland and The Gin Cooperative will help SH's new brand. I hope he has a good master's distiller. It would be a great starting point.

Everybody knows that starting a business requires cash, and growing a business requires even more—But few people understand that the period over which a company start to grow, perhaps is more than many people would expect. Therefore, while running his startup is to raise more money. This can be done by generating more revenue, with his merchandise. That is his problem without his booze... there is no money, and he can’t balance this better between these contradictions: MPC selling health and the back of the coin selling whisky and tequila that has already become clear that his ads exalt drinking and encourage people to drink alcohol.

In summary, is in the initial stages of business and much work remains to be done, still has a long way to go until his GIN comes out this summer 2023 mentioned in a video shared from a Restaurant in Santa Monica.CA with the sounds of the Pacific Ocean just outside the window, and not in Scotland.

We will see if it will capture the attention of new clients that it has in mind, but also What are his company values (or core values) the fundamental beliefs he holds to transmit to Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

In this new venture SH was teamed with AN, a US resident considered inexperienced in the spirits business, which has one vote and equal dividend payments or any distribution, including a distribution arising from the liquidation of the company in Scotland.

SH always confuses his business relationship, and “mixes personal and professional relationships”. Friends are the companions of adventures, of good times, but would it be proper to undertake with AN? Is his friend a suitable partner? For this reason, it is important to find out which values would AN add to SH's recent company and his cultural vision of the spirits business in Scotland because he seems unreliable.

Why Alex was at EDA Glasgow: in mid-January training with Valbo, while Sam was in New York. Well, perhaps he was passing through Edinburgh to provide additional information required by the agents in charge of Latha Ùr before registering the company.

Now we will see AN donning a kilt at his opportunist visits to Scotland in his inauthentic knowledge of the Scottish industry.

CHIENE + TAIT LLP is located at 61 Dublin Street Edinburgh-Midlothian Scotland, its accounting agent’s address, an independent firm of chartered accountants, tax advisers and business consultants based in Edinburgh, Inverness, Glasgow and London.

This permanent business address it’s his commercial agent’s workplace, not a tourist attraction, filming location or SH’s place of business.

......... The Game is Afoot.

@youmademyollife This is not for Scotland, is for his business. The Scottish Distillers Association (SDA) is clear that to be a Scottish gin, it must be distilled and bottled in Scotland. If SH wants to make gin, using the term “Scottish Gin” and market it as “gin”, the product must meet the requirements established for the category in which it intends to operate. That's why he created his company in Scotland. Everyone in Scotland agrees with that. Every Scottish distiller promotes Scotland, in Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

@itsmystreamofconsciousnessblog The situation differs from what you think. The owns Midhope Castle or “Lallybroch” is Hopetoun Estate, the castle is on private property. It’s not for Sale. On another hand, the interest is the sitting adjacent next to Midhope Castle. There will be a new whisky distillery on the Hopetoun estate in South Queensferry. The owner is not Diageo, the investors are others interested, and it’s not SH.

As for AN or Mohammad Ali, he has no experience in the spirits business. He’s SH’s partner with products manufactured by other companies. In a Scottish Gin distillery in Scotland, knowing is one thing and being able to communicate it to others is another kettle of fish. BTW… Every part of the business of alcohol is forbidden by his religion. Be it drinking it, making it or transporting it or selling it. So, he has no knowledge and no certain criteria to be involved in an alcohol-beverage company. Last but not least, It seems unreliable during the period surrounding his divorce.

@youmademyollife Starting a business after his spouse started a divorce, it’s an alert because he cannot spend marital assets without authorisation from the court. Until the court finalises his divorce, it could trace the funding to start the business to his marital estate. Thus, his soon-to-be ex-spouse might own half of his new business, 25%. That means SH continues with his 50% and the Norouzis 50% (25% each). She wants to be a part of the business. I agree, Sam should have prevented that, but he didn’t. SH should have learned whether he could and should have started a new business during AN’s divorce. He’s not reliable on the nowhere side.

[historydailyfrancischappellblack]

History Daily: August 28

Image: Emmett Till (Wikimedia Commons)

On August 28, 1955, while visiting family in Money, Mississippi, 14-year-old Emmett Till, an African American boy from Chicago, is viciously murdered for allegedly flirting with a white woman four days earlier.

His murderers—the white woman’s husband and his brother—made Emmett carry a 75-pound cotton gin fan to the bank of the Tallahatchie River and ordered him to take off his clothes. The two men then beat him nearly to death, gouged out his eye, shot him in the head, and then threw his body, tied to the cotton gin fan with barbed wire, into the river.

Three days later, his body was recovered but was so disfigured that he could only identify it by an initialed ring. Authorities wanted to bury the body quickly, but Till’s mother, Mamie Bradley, requested it be sent back to Chicago.

After seeing the mutilated remains, she decided to have an open-casket funeral so that all the world could see what racist murderers had done to her only son. Jet, an African-American magazine, published a photo of Emmett’s corpse, and soon the mainstream media picked up on the story.

Less than two weeks after Emmett’s body was buried, Milam and Bryant, the two murderers, went on trial in a segregated courthouse in Sumner, Mississippi. There were few witnesses besides Mose Wright, who positively identified the defendants as Emmett’s killers.

On September 23, the all-white jury deliberated for less than an hour before issuing a verdict of “not guilty,” explaining that they believed the state had failed to prove the identity of the body. Many people around the country were furious by the decision and by the state’s decision not to indict Milam and Bryant on the separate charge of kidnapping.

The Emmett Till murder trial brought to light the brutality of Jim Crow segregation in the South and was an early impetus of the civil rights movement.

HORSE RACES A TRAIN

Image: Passengers enjoy their ride in a carriage pulled by the replica Tom Thumb.

Roaring, hissing, growling, clanking, the locomotives of the steam era not only resembled great beasts but were given names to match their status: Big Boys that hurled freight across the craggy American landscape; the UK’s Flying Scotsman; and the Fairy Queen, which still occasionally travels the tracks between New Delhi and Alwar in India.

But none of this was of great concern to no-nonsense Peter Cooper, the inventor and industrialist who designed and built the first American steam locomotive. He called it . . . Tom Thumb.

On August 28, 1830, Cooper accepted a challenge to prove that his mechanical power was greater than horsepower.

Until this point in time, rail companies in America, such as the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad (B&O) relied on horses to pull their passenger and freight trains, even though steam locomotives were used elsewhere in the world.

But that tradition was about to end when B&O directors were given a ride aboard Tom Thumb from Baltimore to Ellicott Mills, Maryland (now Ellicott City). They were amazed that the locomotive could achieve speeds of 10-14 miles per hour.

Then, according to legend, Tom Thumb took part in a famous race with a horse-drawn car while returning from a trip to Ellicott Mills. The locomotive was well ahead of the horse-drawn car until a mechanical fault caused the engine to lose steam, and the horse reached the finishing line first.

The event is a staple of American folklore though there is no documentation to substantiate it. Nevertheless, B&O was clearly impressed with Tom Thumb and ran this notice in newspapers:

The Baltimore and Ohio Rail Road Company being desirous of obtaining a supply of locomotive steam engines of American manufacture, adapted to their road, have given public notice that they will pay the sum of Four Thousand Dollars (equivalent to $136,000 in 2022 dollars) for the most approved engine which shall be delivered for trial upon the road on or before the first of June, 1831.

Although Tom Thumb is known as the first successful American steam locomotive, hauling passengers until at least March 1831, it was never put into regular service.

But a replica was built in 1927 for the B&O Railroad Museum and still runs today. The locomotive appeared on a US postage stamp in 1952.

GERMANY GETS READY TO INVADE POLAND

August 28, 1939. Journalist Care Hollingworth observes the “large numbers of troops, literally hundreds of tanks, armored cars and field guns” Germany had aligned along the Polish border. Three days later, Hitler invades Poland and WWII begins.

Image: Left to right, top to bottom: Luftwaffe bombers over Poland; Schleswig-Holstein attacking the Westerplatte; Danzig Police destroying the Polish border post; German tank and armored car formation; German and Soviet troops shaking hands; bombing of Warsaw. (Wikimedia Commons.)

[lostcybertronian]

"mind if i join you ?" With dark and actor pretty please? :)

Egotober 2022 - Day 11 (Game)

Prompts by @tracobuttons

---

No thunder. No lightning. It was a calm night. Still, Dark found himself at the Manor, needing to escape the overwhelming pressure of . . . what? Trying to pilot the dead body of his friend? Trying to keep himself into a vaguely human shape? Wilford Warfstache?

    Whatever it was, he needed to be alone. The Manor, for all its faults and history, could at least provide that.

    “Old friend!” An all too-familiar voice said from behind him. “I didn’t think I would ever run into you here. Mind if I join you?”

    Except when it couldn’t. Dark clenched his fists and brought his shoulders up as Mark bounded up the stairs to join him, his polished shoes clicking neatly over the worn wooden stairs, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning, though it didn’t reach his hard, glittering eyes.

    “I’d rather you didn’t.” Dark managed to snarl this out as his shell cracked and a mirror-image of himself lagged behind, head tossed back, screaming. 

    Mark seemed a bit amused by this spectacle. He held his hands up, clutching the silver head of the cane in one slender hand. “No games! I promise. Except,” he added with a wink, “Maybe some Uno or gin rummy.

    “I’m kidding! I’m kidding,” he said, when Dark turned a murderous glare on him. He continued to follow as Dark swept through the parlor, disturbing the dust and grime. “I haven’t played gin rummy in decades.”

    “I just wanted to be alone!” Dark whirled on him, his hands curled and clawed, his  mouth pulled into a grimace. His black eyes were hard chips of onyx. “Away from the story, and the roles, and myself!” 

    A light fixture– though it could be hardly called that, it hadn’t fulfilled its role in nearly a century– burst somewhere to Dark’s left. Shattered glass sprayed at them and Mark held up his hands to shield his face but Dark stood there, letting shards cut his face and shred his clothes. 

    “Leave me alone,” Dark said, a plea and a demand, both. 

    Mark studied him for a long moment. Noted how wretched he looked. How terribly worn and sad.

    “No,” he said finally, though it was uncharacteristic of him. “I will not leave you alone. You need to know that in this world you are not alone.”

    He took a step forward, and when Dark did not retaliate, took another, closing the distance between them and lifting one hand to cup Dark’s cheek, tracing one thumb over his gray skin. “I did love you once, you know,” he said.

    For a moment, Dark looked like he might reciprocate the gesture. Then, he sneered. “You don’t get to do that. Not you.”

    He shook Actor’s hand off him. Shoved past him, back through the parlor and through the open door. Left the Manor, and its Actor.

[crazy56u]

Well, it’s Halloween, it’s raining, it feels like I’m starting to have chest congestion shit, and things aren’t exactly great all over. A distraction is welcome.

Okay Ben, you made it seven episodes so far, congratulations. Your prize is The Exorcist.

What if it turns out Ben leapt in the same day Sam was in Coventry?

The only good priests are from Baltimore. Big if true.

Addison, jump scares are to fiction what the dab is to modern society, knock it off.

Okay, this is less The Exorcist and more Clue.

Okay, two minutes in, Ziggy is talking about exorcisms, fuck me up buttercup?

“Water closet”. Okay, so, what, 1930s? That’s where we are?

“Exorcisms aren’t real.” Ben, you’re in the world of Quantum Leap. Ghosts, angels, Bigfoot, aliens, psychics and (according to Sam Beckett) telekinesis are real.

Seriously, that kid’s face scaring makes me think this legitimately is meant to be the world of The Exorcist.

And seven episodes in, we have our first cast of “Someone can see Ben as Ben”.

“The exorcist and the demon fight for the soul of the possessed.” TONIGHT, ON MONDAY NIGHT RAW-

“Okay, what now?” “You got a Bible. Get to Bibling.”

And now the hologram technology’s getting fucky. Tell all sign of real ghost shit.

And Addison is on mute.

JUMPSCARE

Oh no, the demon’s from Supernatural!

I half expected Ian to be hiding under a table.

And the cat people portion of the audience pop the fuck off.

“Sam Beckett believed God was guiding his leaps, and that telekinesis is real. That guy was fucked up.”

“Father? The Doctor’s here.” And then David Tennant enters the room-

Ben legitimately thought he was about to score drugs.

Okay, so there’s the rub: “Look, Mr. Priest, I’m a fucking doctor, let me healthcare the problem away.”

...you’re gonna fucking lobotomize the demon.

“Joan of Arc was only 17 when she lead the French army to victory.” Counterpoint: she probably had some form of seizure, and she was slightly mentally unstable, hence why she “heard” the voice of God. Ball’s in our court.

“The wall paper moved.” Well, given the pattern of the wallpaper, you probably were just tripping.

Okay, is this girl super versed in the Bible, or is the demon playing Dr. Jekyll?

“How is she?” “Possessed?”

Called it, 1930s.

“Look, it’s the Great Depression, here’s tequila. Get crunk, Father.”

Okay, now play Hot Cross Buns.

Ma’am, I’m from 2022, maybe stay away from Hollywood.

...is the plot twist going to be the mom boinked a demon?

“It’s locked!” Okay. Break it down.

And the body count begins!

“Look, Mr. Doctor, I’m from 2022, my medical knowledge outweighs yours.”

“To know is science.” So, if you know anything, you automatically know all the science ever.

“What a scoop! A corpse!”

Ian, stay away from a poker table. You have a shit poker face.

“Look, I think the solution to the ghost shit is Reddit.” “Ian, that is the most hateful thing you have ever said.”

“Never been a gin guy.” “Well, I drank all the tequila. Get fucked.”

“Are you a priest or a constable?” Okay, I’m starting to suspect you, now.

What is this fish eye warble vision

So, the Great Depression is the real antagonist here. The ghosts of bad economics and Hoover’s bullshit.

“I’ll go see her, I’m a doctor-” “Get fucked, bitch boy, it’s Father Priest’s turn.”

Uh oh, the demon’s channeling Donald Duck.

“The demon isn’t real.” Ben, you fucking balls of steel to fucking say that at this point in the fucking episode.

...is the demon now a gorilla?

THE CEILING IS OUT FOR REVENGE!

Okay, Ben screaming bloody murder before cutting to a calm room is literally the same as the Paul Rudd GIF: “OH SHIT! ... I’m fine.”

...why would you waste a fish in this economy?

“Gives new meaning to the term ‘red herring’.” If this were a sitcom, we would be rolling credits.

I love how they are trying to act like this is Scooby Doo shit, when we have seen multiple times that there’s proof that we are dealing with real fucking demons.

Okay, all this spooky shit is getting too much, time for a break.

And now Ben is talking to himself / the audience.

“I think I might have to actually try and perform an exorcism?” And the last horse crosses the finish line.

“Oh, wait, my reflection’s a priest, I can do this. Good talk.”

And the first step to any good exorcism? Gin.

And now we’re legitimately in The Exorcist.

I love to see how they try and explain away the floating girl.

Don’t lick your teeth like that, what the fuck is wrong with you

...is Ben now possessed?

Why is Ben in the White Hot Room

“Where am I?” In a coma. Wake up.

Get the fuck out of here, are you literally telling me this IS fucking Clue?! THEY HAVE BEEN TRIPPING THE FUCK OUT ON POISONED FOOD?!

"How did they kill Aunt Tessa?” With the hammer.

Okay, good, you solved the mystery, wake up now.

Ben, wakey wakey

This is now also fucking Scooby Doo.

“Father? How did it go?” “I am not afraid to kick all of your fucking asses right now.”

Uh oh, cake stab.

“Are you saying Mr. Charles was the killer?” Interesting how you are flip flopping between demons and real killers, ma’am.

Jim Something: Master of All Poison

[Annnnnnd there’s the first Christmas commercial I have seen this year. WAIT UNTIL THE DAY AFTER FUCKING THANKSGIVING, YOU ASSHOLES.]

“The Great Depression was... ...what they are calling this period of time, now.”

...so, are we gonna explain the face scars?

Okay, so, name of the game: Fake the girl’s death, first one to break character is the poisoner.

And now Ben is channeling every fake ghost detecting psychic person.

And now she’s channeling the Undertaker.

“OKAY, I ADMIT IT, I KILLED SOMEONE AND POISONED PEOPLE, BUT THERE’S REAL DEMONS HERE!”

And now all of the dirty laundry is coming out.

And now you made the girl cry. Eat shit.

Daisy has the patience of a saint. If I was Daisy, I would be flipping them all off.

“The exorcist wins.” I wish Ben pumped his fist after saying this...

Let me guess: Janis was piggybacking off of the Imaging Chamber, and that’s why it conked out?

CALLED IT

And Ben’s reward for surviving The Exorcist? Blur - Song 2

Stealing a car to escape military school. Only in America.

Final Thoughts: I hate how I predicted the Clue twist immediately. Other than that, 10/10.

[queenofdawson]

I posted 155 times in 2022

That's 155 more posts than 2021!

13 posts created (8%)

142 posts reblogged (92%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@pick-and-shovel-laborer

@trencri

@leaderintitleonly

@sisipck

@gcldbound

I tagged 148 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#goldie o'gilt - 82 posts

#scrooge and goldie - 39 posts

#scroldie - 34 posts

#scrooge mcduck - 33 posts

#the king of the klondike- scrooge ❤️ - 31 posts

#;queenofdawson - 30 posts

#queenofdawson - 29 posts

#rp meme - 16 posts

#classic goldie: comics - 14 posts

#rp memes - 14 posts

Longest Tag: 94 characters

#✘჻     v  /     the     train     yard     ghost.

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Hello Internet! Goldie O Gilt here! Apparently all the cool cats are online these days, so I’m giving it a shot! And of course, to shamelessly flirt with Scrooge! So send a gal your questions, I’m here all night folks!

{Hi Mun here! So this will be a Goldie ask/RP blog. Mostly Scroldie but I am willing to multiship/multimuse, it’s all different universes though! You have your choice between classic Goldie (a mixture of 87 and Comics Goldie, with a hint of canon divergence for the kick of it) or 17 Goldie! Say Classic or Blondie to have the difference or it will be random, unless previously requested! May go semi NSFW but we’ll see!}

4 notes - Posted May 1, 2022

#4

"Goldie, C---n't trust ---- mine ---gin. ------ away. Don't ---- ----ck. ----ve ----n. - Doc" It's covered in dirt and the words are smudged. (Upsetting Anon)

Goldie stood there in shock before struggling to try to get the mud off. It was a fruitless effort, however, she got the idea. Doc was breaking up with her.

Originally, she was hoping it was some kind of message to stay away from the mines, but she supposed they just weren’t meant to be. Doc was a kind and generous man who deserved the world but never took more than he needed. She was an infamous miner who once stole from the Richest Duck in the world. Story of her life, it was fine.

The old woman then took a deep breath before going back inside, putting the paper on her table to let it dry. In a desperate last stand to hopefully hear words that she was wrong about, she left Doc a message on his phone about the letter and what had happened, sent a same day letter inquiring if he was breaking up with her or what his message was (probably a break up, she thought to herself).

Once the hen had finished all that, she simply walked to her room and fell onto her bed, finally bursting into tears on her pillows. She knew no one could ever love her, but for once she got her hopes up! Guess a golden girl like me isn’t meant for love, she thought to herself as she drifted into a fitful slumber.

( @leaderintitleonly, don’t shoot me! Shoot the anon!)

5 notes - Posted August 29, 2022

#3

🛒

Comics Goldie:

50 Inch Flat Screen,

White Sofa,

36 Inch Flat Screen.

87:

12 Gauge Shotgun Slugs,

Paper,

Pens.

17:

New Lingerie,

Ticket to Duckburg,

Map for Treasure in Barcelona.

5 notes - Posted June 4, 2022

#2

Goldie...is that you?

Play dumb! “Who’s Goldie?” Not that dumb!

As much as she wanted to admit who she was to Scrooge, this entire situation sucked enough as it was. She didn’t want to drag him of all people into her problems. Hopefully, he’d buy her terrible excuse for a lie (darn child being bad after the loss of adult lying techniques! They just don’t work the same!)

7 notes - Posted August 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

This is a regulatory scheduled message from your favorite Goldie Network, from Silver (Comics Goldie) and Glitter (87 Goldie)!

“What’s with all the racquet?! Geez, it sounds like an avalanche out there today?”

{And of course Blondie (17 Goldie) is merely taking advantage of the chaos everywhere to steal some awesome treasure. You do you Blondie!}

7 notes - Posted June 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[coolthingsisee]

Kamala Harris Hires High-Ranking Official from environmental organization responsible for gas stove restrictions

Harris campaign official Camila Thorndike has said that climate change is a valid reason to avoid having children

Harris campaign climate engagement director Camila Thorndike (X) Democratic presidential nominee Kamala Harris has a new "climate engagement director": Camila Thorndike, a veteran figure in the far-left climate movement who has suggested she will not have children over fear of climate change and most recently worked for a group at the center of efforts to ban gas stoves. Thorndike served for two years in various senior positions at Rewiring America, a climate-focused nonprofit that has advocated for the United States to rapidly electrify its entire economy—from the transportation and manufacturing sectors, to the residential and power sectors—according to her LinkedIn profile. In her role with the Harris campaign, she will be tasked with ginning up support for Harris from climate activists. Thorndike has also promoted the idea that fear of climate change is a good reason to avoid having children. In 2022, for example, she told the Washington Post that she is hesitant to have a child out of "love for my hypothetical child" and because she wants to "protect them from suffering." "Hello from official day one at Harris-Walz HQ! It's an honor to help the movements I love elect our future climate champion-in-chief," Thorndike wrote in a Wednesday LinkedIn post announcing the hire. She describes herself on LinkedIn as a "climate hype girl for democracy." The decision to hire Thorndike, who has been a part of the far-left climate movement for years, suggests Harris is prepared to maintain a close relationship with anti-fossil fuel activists if elected. And it also appears to fly in the face of Harris's claims that while her "values have not changed," she no longer supports climate initiatives such as mandating electric vehicles or banning fracking. Kamala's new "climate engagement director," Camila Thorndike, is the electric stove on the left. https://t.co/AL9GAXuXez — Phil Kerpen (@kerpen) September 4, 2024 Rewiring America was founded in 2020 to "help mobilize America to address climate change and jump-start the economy by electrifying everything." The group was ultimately at the center of the recent push to ban gas-powered stovetops. Talor Gruenwald, a research associate at Rewiring America, was the lead author on a study published in December 2022 that blamed rising cases of childhood asthma on gas stove usage. That study was then cited by government officials including Energy Secretary Jennifer Granholm, who used it to push electric stoves. The group broadly advocates for a series of policies to boost green energy and discourage fossil fuel use in the United States, and has invoked World War II-style spending programs as a model for fighting global warming. "We will need to triple the amount of electricity delivered in the U.S. and we’ll discover that the moonshot engineering project we need is a new grid with new operating rules, more like the Internet. We must have ‘grid neutrality,’" one of the group's co-founders Saul Griffith wrote in a blog post in September 2020. "The industrial mobilization required will mean an effort similar to WWII’s Arsenal of Democracy in size, speed, and scope." Griffith then published two lengthy reports outlining how the nation can achieve "total decarbonization" and quickly rewrite regulations governing how energy is developed. Since then, Rewiring America has expanded and has taken a high-profile role influencing the Biden-Harris administration's policymaking. For example, the group was involved in negotiations related to the 2022 Inflation Reduction Act, it has been featured in White House electric vehicle initiatives, its cofounder Alex Laskey participated in a White House electrification event, and it is listed as a Department of Energy partner in the agency's energy efficiency efforts. "The future is shaped by the efforts to mobilize and empower voters to deliver electoral victories, so the power really lies with the people, and if you can out-organize the oligarchy, you can save the world," Thorndike told the outlet Canary Media when asked about her and Rewiring America's efforts negotiating the Inflation Reduction Act. "I hope this takeaway resonates with our collective movements that are defending the wins of the Inflation Reduction Act and creating conditions for more ambitious, inclusive legislation, which still needs to continue," she continued. "We are, after all, still in a life-or-death situation for our planet and democracy." And Rewiring America made headlines last year when it hired failed Georgia Democratic gubernatorial candidate Stacey Abrams as its senior counsel. Abrams said at the time that she was excited to join the group "to share the benefits of electrification and ensure families get their fair share." The group, meanwhile, is a project of the Windward Fund, a pass-through organization that is, in turn, a key cog in the billion-dollar dark money network managed by the Washington, D.C.-based firm Arabella Advisors. As a project of a separate entity, Rewiring America isn't required to file tax forms with the IRS, its total funding remains unknown, and its funders are largely shielded from public view. According to tax filings reviewed by the Washington Free Beacon, however, it has received significant funding from left-wing pass-through groups like the Sergey Brin Family Foundation and Rockefeller Brothers Fund. Prior to joining Rewiring America, Thorndike ran Sen. Bernie Sanders's (I., Vt.) climate portfolio and worked for a number of climate activist organizations such as the Sunrise Movement. Rewiring America and the Harris campaign didn't respond to requests for comment. Source link Read the full article

[adrl-pt]

Should we expect changes from the new Iranian president? Russian attack on children on IV drips.

You are watching news from the weekly rally at the Russian Embassy in Lisbon. Today is July 13, 2:30 PM.

On July 6, Masoud Pezeshkian, a representative of the reformist wing, was elected as the new president of Iran. The BBC News Russian Service reports that he criticized Iran's morality police, promised to ease internet restrictions, and called for nuclear deal negotiations. Turnout in this election was the lowest in 45 years. Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei remarked that "if anyone thinks that those who did not vote are against the establishment, they are clearly mistaken." Sounds familiar. https://www.bbc.com/russian/articles/c2v0l123y9wo

In a CNN World article, Iran analyst Sina Toossi suggested that Pezeshkian was allowed to run to boost turnout. https://edition.cnn.com/2024/06/29/middleeast/iran-presidential-election-runoff-inconclusive-first-round-intl/index.html

Ali Fathollah-Nejad, director of the Center for Middle East and Global Order, stated on DW in Russian that reformists had not pursued change in recent decades and suggested that Pezeshkian was allowed to be elected to create a misleading positive image for the West. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CMIEA9vmOr0

X social network user "Tired Kitten" posted a translation of a video by physician and mathematician Kaveh Mozafari, who revealed fraud in vote counts and turnout. https://x.com/psychotic_bat/status/1810336414241853883

In November 2022, the Tony Blair Institute for Global Change presented a study showing that over 60% of Iranians want to live in a secular state rather than an Islamic republic. https://www.institute.global/insights/geopolitics-and-security/protests-and-polling-insights-streets-iran-how-removal-hijab-became-symbol-regime-change

Based on information provided by Iranians people from inside Iran, there is evidence that many election centers have been empty. In the circus election, we have seen Pezeshkian was the only reformist among other hardliner candidates. Just a few days ago, Pezeshkian acknowledged the support for terrorist groups such as Hamas, Hezbollah So, Pezeshkian is just a fake mask to continue the policy of the regime with a new face. Please stop flirting with the mullahs' regime in Iran. Wishing that the Iranian people regain their freedom, and wishing freedom for all humanity. https://youtu.be/3GVNys5K-lU

On Monday, July 8, during rush hour, the Russian military launched about 40 missiles of various types into Ukraine. https://www.moscowtimes.nl/2024/07/08/glava-mid-italii-obvinil-rossiyu-vvoennom-prestuplenii-posle-udara-pobolnitse-vkieve-a136165

The missile attacks killed 42 people, including four children. https://ru.interfax.com.ua/news/general/999023.html

One rocket hit the dialysis building of the Okhmatdet children's hospital in Kyiv. There were 627 patients on the hospital premises at the time of the attack. https://life.pravda.com.ua/society/v-ohmatditi-zavershili-ryatuvalni-roboti-shcho-vidomo-pro-paciyentiv-ta-pracivnikiv-302568/

Bellingcat analysts proved that the strike was carried out by a Russian Kh-101 cruise missile, refuting the Russian Ministry of Defense's claim that it was a Ukrainian air defense missile. https://www.bellingcat.com/news/2024/07/09/russian-missile-identified-in-kyiv-childrens-hospital-attack/?utm_source=twitter

This attack was condemned by the majority of UN Security Council members and many European politicians. https://www.dw.com/ru/bolsinstvo-clenov-sovbeza-oon-osudilo-udar-rf-po-detskoj-bolnice-kieva/a-69609634

Attacks on residential buildings and shopping centers in Ukraine occur constantly. On June 22, blogger Anna Gin told the Dozhd TV channel that Kharkiv residents live under constant air raid sirens. https://www.youtube.com/live/OCGXT_1S648?t=353s

According to the Financial Times, Russian companies were purchasing Swiss and American-made parts for missile production and importing them through China. https://meduza.io/news/2024/07/10/financial-times-rossiya-sobiraet-rakety-h-101-odna-iz-kotoryh-popala-v-detskuyu-bolnitsu-v-kieve-iz-zapadnyh-komponentov

We call on the international community to completely close Ukraine's skies from Russian missiles and ensure the enforcement of sanctions against Russia.

The Deceived Russian on his YouTube channel reported that Putin spent 1 billion rubles on the missile that destroyed the Okhmatdet hospital, comparable to the cost of a new hospital, and showed another collapsing Russian clinic. https://youtu.be/B2DzfMK3z1A?feature=shared&t=93

Victoria Nuland, former US Under Secretary of State for Political Affairs, addressed the Russians on the Dozhd TV channel: “Think about what this military adventure of Putin has done for you? What has he done for you over the past 20 years? It would be much better if we could cooperate with you." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YYDxzsAvtYE

Proofs and links are in the description. Subscribe and help!

[pashterlengkap]

Schools are accommodating “furbies” with litter boxes in bathrooms, rightwing pundit claims

On a recent episode of conservative sports website OutKick’s OutKick The Morning, former ESPN sportscaster and host Charly Arnolt, with her guest Kristen Louelle Gaffney, claimed that California public schools are encouraging students to use litter boxes. Gaffney, a podcaster and the wife of former NFL running back Tyler Gaffney, appeared on the February 22 episode and was asked by Arnolt about any strange activities she may have encountered at her kids’ schools. Related: Fox host claims schools are installing litterboxes for students in bizarre rant Commentator Shannon Bream trotted out the right-wing hoax that schools are installing litterboxes for kids to use — something that has never happened. “I’m in California, so I have no choice but to put them into private school,” Gaffney said. “It’s a pretty penny, but it’s worth it because I do not mess around with the public school system. I definitely hear stories amongst our peers, and it’s pretty crazy what these kids are learning and what they’re allowed to do in school. There’s something called furbies where people go to the restroom in litter boxes.” Stay connected to your community Connect with the issues and events that impact your community at home and beyond by subscribing to our daily newsletter. Arnolt nodded and said that she has heard of the “furbies.” Gaffney is referring to the urban myth that has proliferated among anti-trans conservatives that schools across the country have been installing litter boxes in restrooms for students who identify as furries to use. The thoroughly debunked myth is an outgrowth of anti-trans hysteria, where people claim that accepting trans people as their authentic selves would require them to accept children who identify as animals. That’s not exactly what furries are – they’re a harmless subculture in which people dress up as anthropomorphic animal characters – but it’s the word conservatives have chosen to describe the kids who are supposedly meowing instead of speaking in schools. Republican politicians and right-wing commentators have repeated the hoax to gin up moral panic around trans and nonbinary kids and also to push efforts to ban students from using school bathrooms that match their gender identity. But in October 2022, NBC News reported that none of the school districts that had been accused by Republicans that year of installing litter boxes had actually done so. What’s more, one Renison University College professor who studies furry culture noted that she has never once come across any evidence of actual furries using litter boxes. Gaffney and Arnolt seem to have missed all that. The host said that she had heard about litter boxes in schools. “And this is normalized,” Gaffney replied. “How weird is that?” Arnolt added. “I mean, I don’t care, like — let’s just think about this for what it is. You are allowing your children, you are encouraging: Be who you are. Act like an animal and use a litter box in the bathroom. I mean, I just feel like as a parent I don’t care how much I want you to have freedom of expression or be yourself. That is, I mean, that’s just insane.” Of course, Gaffney quickly segued into an explicit attack on trans athletes and trans people generally. “It’s strange that we’re normalizing—and for example men playing in women’s sports,” she said. “Something that women fought so hard for, to finally have this platform to be a part of and compete, are now being taken over by so-called women.” “What, at the end of the day, we’re doing is we’re normalizing mental illness,” she added. “And it’s very strange to me that everyone can just go to bed at night like this isn’t happening in our world.” http://dlvr.it/T3FGw0

[sfarticles]

Some mocktails to enjoy if you take part in Dry January

At the gym last week, I noticed it was much busier than usual with many new faces there working out. For a moment, I forgot that the increased attendance was probably due to people’s new year’s resolutions.

Ringing in the new year brings a plethora of goals and changes one hopes to accomplish in the next 365 days: financial, relationships, education goals and, of course, the popular health and wellness intentions.

I’ve come across many articles about Dry January, a newish initiative that originated in 2013 in the United Kingdom.

According to research company CGA  (https://bit.ly/48iHVnM): “Dry January has been growing in popularity for several years, and 2022 saw participation grow to 35% in the US — a significant increase from 21% of consumers who took part in 2019. Out of those who intended to abstain from alcohol, an impressive 74% claim to have succeeded versus the average 8-10% of consumers who stick to their New Year’s resolutions.”

An article about participating in Dry January published by the University of Sussex shares encouraging statistics, https://bit.ly/3vnzoBA. A few of the results presented: 93% of participants had a sense of accomplishments, 70% had generally improved health, 71% slept better, 58% lost weight.

As more people celebrate Dry January and embrace an alcohol-free lifestyle, restaurants and bars have embraced the trend with the creation of inventive mocktails. They seem to be the buzzword. There are options on menus for vegetarians, vegans and those following a gluten-free diet, so why not have mixologists create choices for those who choose to enjoy sipping on a beverage prepared without alcohol?

Just in time for Dry January, “The Mocktail Club: Classic Recipes (and New Favorites) Without the Booze,” by Derick Santiago (2024, Adams Media/Simon & Schuster, $19.99) has been published.

“in June of 2022 I decided to change my relationship with alcohol,” Santiago said in an interview.

His goal was to create non-alcoholic drinks that didn’t use only juices and teas. Quite often they are sweet and are guzzled down. He wanted to create a more sophisticated mocktail. His first creation was the Spicy Pineapple Margarita, and from this recipe his creative juices started to flow.

After publishing a few recipes on Instagram and receiving positive responses from followers, he knew he was onto something. He wasn’t in the market, so to speak, to publish a book, until Adams Media found him online. They were looking for an author to write a book about mocktails. Voilà … his book featuring 75 creative mocktails was published.

Santiago’s approach to these drinks, both classics and new creations, uses fresh ingredients, alcohol-free and non-alcohol spirits. He has created the best way to experience the joy of one’s favorite drink in the comfort of home…no bar, crowd, nor booze.

In the introduction he writes: “Mocktails today are worlds apart from the mocktails of the past… So, regardless of your reason for not consuming alcohol, you can still enjoy a carefully crafted adult drink with balanced, delicious, and complex flavors, all served in a fancy glass with a beautiful garnish.

It was interesting learning about the how substitutes for whiskey, rum, gin and other spirits are made as well as their flavor profiles. One thing Santiago stressed in our conversation is the absence of alcohol doesn’t mean that a mocktail is inferior.

He defines the definitions of nonalcoholic, alcohol-free, zero-proof and dealcoholized. Did you know, in the United States, beverages with up to .5% alcohol by volume (ABV) can be considered nonalcoholic. Alcohol-free and zero-proof means there is 0% alcohol by volume. This is not the case in the United Kingdom, where beverages with up to .05% ABV can be labeled as alcohol-free.

Celebrate Dry January with Santiago’s recipes. You just might embrace the mocktail movement with all the flavors you love without the alcohol. Here are a few of his recipes to get you started.

Good mocktails such as this Pina Colada need something to balance the sweetness and add complexity. This version uses frozen pineapple chunks for added texture, and also uses a dark rum alternative that gives it a nice kick.

Pina Colada

The headnote says: “Virgin piña coladas, although tasty, are usually on the sweeter side. Good mocktails need something to balance the sweetness and add complexity. This version uses frozen pineapple chunks for added texture, and also uses a dark rum alternative that gives it a nice kick! You can use fresh pineapple chunks in place of the frozen pineapple chunks.”

Serves 1

Ingredients:

½ cup frozen pineapple chunks

2 ounces pineapple juice

1 ounce cream of coconut

1 ounce coconut milk

2 ounces dark rum alternative

1 cup crushed ice

3 pineapple fronds and 3 maraschino cherries for garnish

Directions:

1. Put a highball glass in the freezer, allowing it to chill as you prepare the drink. Extra points if you have a pineapple-shaped glass!

2. Place pineapple, pineapple juice, cream of coconut, coconut milk, rum alternative, and ice in a blender. Blend until smooth. If it is too thick, add more pineapple juice.

3. Using a spatula or a bar spoon, scoop the mixture into the chilled highball glass.

4. To garnish, stick pineapple fronds on top of the drink and finish with cherries on a cocktail pick.

5. Add a fancy straw and enjoy this fantastic mocktail that is both refreshing and delicious!

Mocktail twist: Storing pineapple fronds is easy and provides a handy option for creating garnishes. After removing the fronds from the pineapple, clean and store them in a resealable plastic bag in the freezer. When you need them, just put the fronds under cool running water and they will look fresh again.

Aside from flavors that are reminiscent of cheerful holiday moods, there is also a tingling and warming sensation from the ginger beer in this Holiday Punch.

Holiday Punch

The headnote says: “Most dark rum alternatives have notes of vanilla and warm spices. Combine this with flavors of cranberry and ginger and it will definitely remind you of the holiday season. Aside from flavors that are reminiscent of cheerful holiday moods, there is also a tingling and warming sensation from the ginger beer. Although an iced drink, it still offers a soothing and relaxing vibe.”

Serves 1

Ingredients:

2 ounces dark rum alternative

½ ounce Simple Syrup (see recipe in Chapter 1)

½ ounce lime juice

1 ounce cranberry juice

3 ounces ginger beer

1 lime wheel and 1 cocktail cherry for garnish

Directions:

1. In a cocktail shaker, combine rum alternative, Simple Syrup, lime juice, and cranberry juice.

2. Add large cubes of ice, cover the shaker, and shake vigorously 10–12 seconds. Shaking not only chills and dilutes the drink but it also tames the acidity of the lime juice a little bit.

3. Fill a double rocks glass 2⁄3 full with ice cubes. 4. Strain the mixture into the glass.

5. Top with ginger beer.

6. Garnish with lime wheel and cocktail cherry. For an extra flair, create a citrus flag garnish. A citrus flag is a citrus wheel wrapped around a cherry, pierced with a cocktail pick.

Mocktail twist: You can substitute the ginger beer with ginger ale for a more subtle flavor. Tonic water can also be used as a substitute for a slightly bitter flavor.

This Jack Frost mocktail uses a blue curacao syrup that doesn’t contain alcohol.

Jack Frost

The headnote says, “You probably have seen a blue cocktail at least once in your life. This blue color usually comes from blue curaçao liqueur, which is a sweet and citrusy spirit. This mocktail uses a blue curaçao syrup that doesn’t contain alcohol. Only a little bit of the blue syrup is used to give it a very light blue color. For a lower-calorie option, you can also substitute the lemon-lime soda with a zero-sugar version.”

Serves 2

Ingredients:

2 ounces tequila alternative

1 ounce nonalcoholic blue curaçao syrup

2 ounces Low-Calorie Lemonade (see recipe in Chapter 1)

3 ounces lemon-lime soda

1 cup regular ice cubes

1 tablespoon granulated sugar for glass rim

1 teaspoon Simple Syrup (see recipe in Chapter 1) for glass rim

Directions:

1. Place two coupe glasses in the freezer, allowing them to chill as you prepare the mocktail.

2. In a blender, add tequila alternative, blue curaçao syrup, lemonade, and lemon-lime soda.

3. Add in ice. Cover and blend until smooth.

4. Place sugar on a small plate. Place Simple Syrup on a separate small plate. Take coupe glasses out of the freezer. Wet the rim of each glass by dipping it in Simple Syrup. Then dip the wet part into sugar.

5. Pour blended drink into the chilled, sugar-rimmed coupe glasses.

Mocktail twist: The rise of blue cocktails is fairly recent. They gained popularity during the latter half of the twentieth century. Blue curaçao is typically used in cocktails and mocktails with citrus or tropical flavors.

This Highland Mule mocktail version of the Moscow mule uses a whiskey alternative as the base spirit, which adds depth to the drink while incorporating notes of oak and vanilla.

Highland Mule

The headnote says: “This mocktail version of the Moscow mule uses a whiskey alternative as the base spirit, which adds depth to the drink while incorporating notes of oak and vanilla. Another key ingredient in any mule is the ginger beer, so it is important to select a good quality ginger beer for this drink. It is best to serve this drink in a copper mug; however, if one is not available, a highball glass will work.”

Serves 1

Ingredients:

2 ounces whiskey alternative

½ ounce lime juice

4 ounces ginger beer

1 dehydrated lime wheel and 2–3 mint sprigs for garnish

Directions:

1. In a copper mug or highball glass, add whiskey alternative and lime juice.

2. Top it off with ginger beer and give it a light stir.

3. Fill the mug or glass with crushed ice using a scoop or a spoon and garnish it by resting lime wheel on the glass rim. Lastly, create a mint bouquet by twisting together mint sprigs. Give mint a light slap on the palm of your hand, and place it on top of the drink.

Mocktail twist: There are many variations of the popular Moscow Mule. They can be made by switching the traditional base spirit (vodka) with a different spirit. The possibilities are many: Jamaican mule (spiced rum), Mexican mule (tequila), London mule (gin), the list goes on. If you prefer a more subtle ginger flavor, ginger ale can be used in place of ginger beer. There are also light ginger beer options for a lower-calorie version of this drink.

Source: Recipes and photos from “The Mocktail Club” by Derick Santiago, Copyright 2024 by Simon & Schuster Inc. Used by permission of the publisher. All rights reserved. Photographs by Harper Point Photography.

Stephen Fries is professor emeritus and former coordinator of the Hospitality Management Programs at Gateway Community College in New Haven, Conn. He has been a food and culinary travel columnist for the past 15 years and is co-founder of and host of “Worth Tasting,” a culinary walking tour of downtown New Haven. He is a board member of the International Association of Culinary Professionals. Contact him at Stephen@stephenfries.com For more, go to stephenfries.com

[aghotel]

Things to do in Derby: Spring events & festivals

Derby is a fun city to explore and offers great value for money. The city is quite easy to get around and you always feel welcome whether on a long vacation or a short trip. UK’s most central city is home to unique parks, museums, shopping centres, restaurants and much more. Derby is a wonderful place for a cultural and leisure break, and you can also enjoy a variety of events and festivals throughout the year. We recommend adding the following events to your ‘things to do in Derby’ list for Spring 2022.

The Great Derbyshire Beer Festival 1 �� 2 April | The Chocolate Factory

This is a must-visit event if you are a beer lover. The brand-new beer event is dedicated to the best keg and cask beers available in Derbyshire. Several breweries including Buxton Brewery, Thornbridge, Derby Brewing Company, Shiny Brewery and Pentrich Brewing will be attending and pouring their own beers. You will get an opportunity to talk to the people who brew your favourite beer.

Well, we are already feeling thirsty. What about you?

Sausage and Cider Festival Derby 7 May | The Chocolate Factory

The world-famous Sausage and Cider Festival is arriving in Derby this May. The festival is heaven for travel lovers to enjoy an amazing evening with live music, delicious sausages, and massive amounts of cider flavours. Did we tell you that there will be a tasty array of drinks on offer including Ciders on tap, Traditional Bag in Box Cider, Beers on tap, Craft beer, Prosecco & Wine + Soft drinks and much more?

We can’t wait to get indulged.

Wing Fest Derby 2022 13 – 15 May | Bustler Market

The event is a celebration of the mighty chicken wing and is part of the world’s largest chicken wing festivals. Don’t miss relishing the best chicken wings the UK has to offer with thousands of lucky ticket holders. Over 10 different street food traders, restaurants and BBQ teams will serve 60,000 wings. A panel of judges will decide who really does do the best wings.

It is time for wings, music, beer and bourbon.

Derby Book Festival 2022 20 – 28 May | Multiple venues in Derby

The annual festival is returning for its seventh year. For book lovers, the festival offers an enjoyable day out with a broad range of book-related events for all ages and interests in multiple venues across the city. This year’s edition will host 70 events at 10 venues. The organisers will be announcing details in April 2022, when tickets go on sale for all events.

The Gin & Rum Festival May 2022 21 May | The Chocolate Factory

Who doesn’t want to be on the UK’s largest Gin & Rum Festival tour? Join the festival in Derby and discover a unique experience that celebrates the best Gin and Rum and promises an unforgettable party. Whether you want to treat yourself to themed Gin and Rum bars or just want to party the night away with award-winning DJs and live entertainment, the festival is for you.

Join the fun and discover a unique experience!

Download 2022 10 -12 June | Donington Park

The UK’s biggest rock festival should definitely make it to your Derby bucket list. Since its inception in 2003, this mammoth five-day event has become a torchbearer of rock and metal scenes in the UK. The festival is located at the spiritual home of rock, Donington Park and a great lineup of legendary bands including Iron Maiden, Megadeth and Korn among others are surely going to enthral you.

Tickets are selling fast. Grab your spot.

SIGNALS Festival 2022 11 June | Crich Tramway Village, Derbyshire

The festival takes place in a unique and intriguing venue set deep in the heart of the Derbyshire countryside. Immerse yourself in an eclectically programmed day and discover a diverse mix of culture, film, and entertainment to fuel your senses. Indie legends The Charlatans are headlining an outstanding musical line-up that includes The Cribs, Tim Burgess and Peaness among others.

This one-day experience is surely going to be inked in your memory forever.

Ideally situated in the heart of Derby, The Stuart Hotel offers a perfect accommodation option for leisure travellers. Derby train station is just a short 5-minute walk away and you have easy access to the motorway networks via London Road (A6). With our free on-site parking and comfy bedrooms, you can relax and go back to your ‘things to do in Derby’ itinerary.

Become a member and explore Derby with us! Gold Members get exclusive discounts on local attractions, restaurants, bars, and much more. Write to us at care@aghotels.co.uk for more details.