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thekitchenismykingdom · 3 years

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Kitchen Shenanigans - Lovestruck Fanfiction

Relationship - Lucien Rivercrest/Roman Tarrenglade Rating - G Summary - Lucien and Roman, navigating the waters of a new relationship, spend some time together in the kitchen. Unfortunately for them, they can't quite keep it professional. A/N - I was inspired to write this solely because I was flipping through a food magazine at 2am when I couldn't sleep. The chili potato tart recipe is real, and the crust is delicious.

Another lazy Sunday came to Sweet Enchantments, and the two denizens of the kitchen were spending the day inside, crafting and perfecting recipes. Lucien was busy with a fresh batch of golden éclairs, a charitable donation requested by a supportive and well-respected customer. Liora was only happy to oblige, and volunteered Lucien to prepare something for the event. Lucien couldn’t remember exactly what it was for, but he recalled the organization helped incarcerated magicians find gainful employment after serving their sentence or as a condition of early release.

Living and working at the café had expanded his thought process about magical society and how it treats people, judging them based on their background and ability. While he would have preferred spending his day off in other ways, Lucien knew this was the right thing to do. He had been given an opportunity here at the café, so why not give back and help others?

He glanced at Roman on the other side of the kitchen, who had been preparing some kind of pastry for dinner. A dozen thoughts swarmed his head all at once, but Lucien shook his head and focused on the task before him.

While he carefully filled the éclairs with a marbled lemon and raspberry cream, Roman took his chili tart crust out of the oven. The baking paper crackled as he shook it slightly, the baking weights rolling over each other.

“This smells incredible already,” Roman said with a pleased smile. Lucien paused in his work and sniffed the air.

“It’ll be even better with the filling.”

Roman turned toward Lucien after placing the partially-baked tart shell on the counter.

“Oh? Mr. Cool as a Cucumber broke his concentration for my little tart?”

Lucien smirked and picked up another éclair.

“Mere mortals of the kitchen deserve to be graced with a compliment from time to time,” Lucien replied, not taking his eyes off the dessert in hand before placing it down and picking up another.

Roman shook his head fondly, returning to his tart. He peeled the roasted tomatoes, garlic, and chili and set to work mashing them together, seasoning along the way. He poured the mashed tomato mixture into the bottom of the tart and spread it evenly before reaching for his thinly-sliced potatoes. Arranging them carefully into concentric circles, Roman reached for the pile of grated cheese to his left.

“Perfectly placed potato slices? On your food?” Lucien teased from behind Roman’s shoulder, and Roman jumped slightly.

“Lucien! I’m concentrating!”

Lucien hummed and grabbed a few strings of cheese to taste.

“Mmm. Buttery, and slightly nutty. Good melt factor.”

“It’s a type of Swiss cheese,” Roman explained, sprinkling it on top of the potatoes. “Emeril introduced it to me a while ago, and I thought I’d incorporate it into a new dish I’m crafting.”

“You’re using the first tomatoes of the season?”

Roman hummed and placed the tart into the oven, setting a timer. He stretched out and set to work cleaning his station, opting for a traditional approach as opposed to using magic. Lucien had a habit of needling him about his messy cleaning magic.

“Well, would you like to assist me in finishing the éclairs?” Lucien asked as he observed Roman clean up.

Roman paused for a moment in wiping the counter down, eventually replying, “I might sit out in the garden. Tend to some of the vegetables.”

Lucien blinked.

“Weren’t you out there just this morning?”

“Yes, but it’s a nice day and I have to wait for the tart to finish baking anyway.”

“Hm.”

Lucien slowly walked back to his station, staring at the éclairs. He picked up one of the few left and inserted the tip of the piping bag, gently squeezing until the felt the éclair expand slightly. He worked on two more before asking Roman, “Are you sure you’d rather go outside?”

This time Roman turned to him, curious.

“Did you need help with something?”

Lucien visibly swallowed, but his voice was its normal cool tone.

“I don’t really need help.”

Roman stared at Lucien as he finished filling the éclairs, placing the nearly empty piping bag to the side, squished and crinkled. He walked over and placed his chin on Lucien’s shoulder.

“Do you want me to stay so we can finish these together?”

Lucien was quiet for a moment, glancing at Roman from the corner of his eye.

”...Yes.”

Roman smiled and brushed a kiss against Lucien’s cheek.

“That’s all you had to say,” he said, taking his place beside Lucien at the workstation.

“I’m still new to this,” Lucien mumbled, letting out a huff as he turned to grab a bowl of melted dark chocolate and place it on the station.

Roman understood Lucien’s feelings well; a situation as complicated as theirs required a mutual understanding. Lucien had never acted on his feelings for another man before, and they were both involving themselves with a co-worker. Roman didn’t wan to believe that their good working relationship would be soured if their romantic entanglement ended, but it was always a possibility.

Shaking away these thoughts, Roman gave Lucien a bright smile and reassured, “We both are. We’ll navigate any challenges that present themselves, and we’ll do it together.”

Lucien returned Roman’s smile with his own, albeit, smaller one, before shifting his focus back to the filled but bare éclairs.

“I need these dipped in the chocolate, Roman,” Lucien explained. He grabbed an éclair and dipped it in the bowl, slowly pulling it out and allowing the excess chocolate to drip. He delicately twisted his wrist so the éclair faced up and showed the glossy chocolate finish to Roman.

“Think you can do that?”

Roman was tempted to take a bite right out of Lucien’s hand, but he had no desire to ruin the nice time they were having preparing the éclairs together.

“Of course! Leave it to me, O Master of Pastries.” Roman then set to work dipping the éclairs into the chocolate, flourishing his wrist just as Lucien showed him to ensure the chocolate covered the tops of the pastry evenly.

Lucien, meanwhile, whipped ice-cold cream with a balloon whisk until it stood up in a stiff peak on the whisk.

“Shall we turn it over your head to make sure it’s whipped enough?” Roman suggested, a small smile playing on his lips.

“These aren’t egg whites, Roman.”

“Oh, yes. Well, maybe you should use your big strong arms to hand-whip some egg whites next? Then we can use that bowl trick.”

“Something tells me you want to see me covered in-”

Lucien stopped himself, and Roman raised an eyebrow at him, his smile morphing into a smirk.

“Yes? Go on, Lucien. What were you saying?”

Lucien ignored him and dropped the whipped cream into a clean piping bag, twisting it closed. Quickly he piped a perfect star of whipped cream on one end of each éclair, quickly catching up to Roman.

“You’re lagging,” Lucien pointed out, and Roman sniffed at him, but hurried in his task until each éclair was dipped and covered in a thin sheen of dark chocolate. Lucien hummed his approval as he finished piping the last bit of cream on the final few éclairs.

“What’s next?” Roman asked, and Lucien gestured to a bowl that he had floated over a minute before.

“We decorate the éclairs with a few strands of these candied lemon peels,” Lucien explained, and showed Roman just how many slices to put and how he wanted them arranged. They worked together quietly after that, both men concentrating on the task at hand. Lucien looked over at Roman to evaluate his éclairs, and noticed how his long fingers carefully placed each strand of lemon peel in an artful arrangement on top of the whipped cream.

“The sugary peel is a nice pop of colour against the black and white on top of the pastry, don’t you think, Lucien?”

“I- Yes, that’s one reason I chose this garnish.”

Roman heard the slight hesitation and turned his head to look at Lucien. Lucien swallowed, acutely aware of Roman’s eyes scanning his face, deep red rippling pools that finally settled on his mouth.

“Would you mind if I stole a kiss?” Roman whispered, dessert completely forgotten.

Lucien’s professionalism and respect for the kitchen came to the forefront of his mind, but something else told him that he could make a small exception. Just this once. Roman’s sweet expression rivalled the pastry in front of them, and Lucien found in this moment, he could not resist the temptation.

“Not this time,” Lucien whispered back, leaning in and-

“How are those éclairs coming Luci- Oh!”

Lucien and Roman sprang apart as if pulled by magic, Liora’s voice ringing out in the silent kitchen.

“Ah, Liora, I wasn’t- We didn’t expect-” Roman scrambled, immediately trying to cover for his indiscretion. The surprise wearing off, Liora schooled her features into a neutral mask, the usual calm she exuded settling Roman down.

“I can’t say I’m not surprised to see you both in such a... position,” Liora began, a hand on her hip, “But I hope that the kitchen won’t be a place to tiptoe around in the future.” She gave them both firm, even looks. Lucien fidgeted for a moment, certain that Liora’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than it had on Roman, as if to say she was more disappointed in him for this uncharacteristic lapse in judgement.

“Absolutely not,” Lucien managed to say, standing a little straighter. “This...won’t happen again.” He looked to Roman, who nodded in agreement.

Liora gave them another once over, light eyes practically glowing with intensity, before her posture relaxed and the hand fell from her hip back to her side.

“How are the desserts coming?” she asked, taking a few steps towards the counter and observing their work.

“Nearly everything is ready. All the éclairs are filled and dipped, and only a few remaining pastries need their garnish,” Lucien explained. He picked up an éclair and placed it on a small dish before handing it to Liora for inspection. She accepted the plate and brought it closer to her face, scanning the pastry while slowly rotating the plate. With a satisfied hum, she put the plate down on the table and gave Lucien a pleased smile.

“These look delectable as always, Lucien. Great work. I appreciate you taking the time to help this initiative,” Liora said, and Lucien only nodded. Liora’s support was a welcome thing, unused to it though he was, and he sometimes felt ill equipped to respond to it.

Liora then turned to Roman, one light eyebrow delicately arched.

“I trust that the next time you assist Lucien, things will stay clean and professional?”

Roman actually blushed, cheeks as red as his hair, and Lucien had to hold back a grin. With a cough, Roman stood up straighter, some natural colour returning to his face.

“Of course, Liora. Today was... Today won’t happen again. Promise.” Roman gave her a winning smile then, and Liora nodded her approval.

Looking around the kitchen, Lucien half-expected her to comment on something else amiss, but she merely smiled and told them to keep up the good work that they do. With a graceful turn, Liora walked towards the dining area, but paused and turned to Roman.

“Whatever you have in the oven smells delicious, Roman. I’d love to try a slice at dinner if it’s not burned yet.”

Then she left the kitchen, heels clacking on the floor as she disappeared.

Lucien and Roman were both silent for a moment before Roman sprang into action with a yelp, grabbing a thick dishtowel and opening the oven door, reaching for the tart he had put in to bake earlier. He quickly but carefully set it down on the counter, scrutinizing the top of it. The cheese was well browned and bubbling, slightly crisp in some spots, and the tart crust was just shy of overcooked. Roman visibly deflated as he let out the breath he had been holding, and Lucien sidled up beside him, just barely brushing shoulders.

“It looks fine,” Lucien said, and Roman sighed again.

After a few moments, Roman leaned into Lucien slightly and asked, “Want to go out into the garden with me? I have to wait a while for this to cool, and...” He trailed off, looking thoughtful.

“I think I’ve had enough kitchen today,” he finished, and Lucien thought back to their intimate moment before Liora walked in. Shame burned under his collar, knowing he was better than that, but he realized he never answered Roman’s question and shook the thoughts away.

“I understand what you mean. I’ll garnish the last few éclairs and I’ll join you once I’ve finished.”

Roman gave him an appreciative smile, squeezing his arm and exiting the kitchen. Lucien watched him leave, smiling to himself despite the day they’d had. Everything between them felt new and just a little bit confusing, but Lucien was ready to face these challenges as long as Roman would be there with him.

Wandering back to the éclairs, Lucien picked up the plate with the lone dessert and gave it a once-over. He decided that Roman needed something sweet, so he would bring the éclair with him for Roman to try.

“Maybe if I’m lucky enough, he’ll share,” Lucien said to himself. With that, he left the kitchen to join Roman outside, two forks hanging loosely in his fingers.

#lovestruck #lovestruck voltage #sweet enchantments #lucien rivercrest #roman tarrenglade #my writing

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danaan13 · 4 years

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Today is my birthday. It's also been one week since a very hard decision had to be made, that changed my life very suddenly, and very painfully. The following is going under a cut. It’s also really long. My apologies to any mobile users that might get the full post anyway. Scroll really fast. I'm going to be talking about the loss of my dog. Some of it is traumatic. So warnings for injury, death, cars, insurance shit, and lots of feelings.

This post is 85% for me and 15% for anyone who's had questions since my vague posts a week ago. I have no blame or ill feelings for anyone that needs to keep scrolling. This post is going to be a lot. And I understand if one doesn't have the energy or the headspace for it. But a lot of of this is writing for my personal mourning.

One other thing: I go over events with the vet we saw. I'm not looking for different diagnoses, or different opinons, or debate, about what the vet said, or the decision we made. As I said, this post is for me to mourn. For me to record what happened. Maybe someone else would've done something differently. I don't know. We made the decision we thought was best.

And with that:

One week ago, my spouse took our dog for a walk in the evening. This was our normal routine. Newton, our dog, loved it. She was an australian shepherd mix, and naturally had all kinds of energy to work out. Even at eleven years old. It's 6 in the evening. It's pitch black out. My spouse has a bright orange, relfective rain jacket on. Newton is wearing a bright orange doggie vest, a collar that had a glowy blue led strip all the way around, and a leash with a reflective string. By our thoughts, safety was accounted for.

Their normal route took them past the shopping center that's a block and a half from our home. My spouse sees a truck sitting at a restaurant parking lot exit, as if waiting on traffic, before attempting to turn. Spouse believes they're going to continue to wait, and starts to cross the front of the exit, along the part marked as a sidewalk. Spouse is directly in front of truck, when it starts up and hits them. And pins Newton under the wheel.

The driver rolled down the passenger window to yell at my spouse. My spouse was yelling at him to move off our dog. A witness, who heard our dog screaming, from inside the restaurant, comes out and bangs on the man's driver window till he rolls it down. He finally backs off of Newton. They move her aside. My spouse was in that kind of shock where emotions shut off. They start giving orders. You call 911. You get that man's insurace. Someone get pictures. Etc.

And then the man suddenly drives away. Doesn't say a word. Doesn't leave insurance. Doesn't stay for the police. He ran.

By this point, one of the witnesses already has clear pictures of his vehicle and license plate. He's reported to the police, and they put out a call to find him.

Spouse calls me shortly after this. Call our vet. We got hit. We need to get Newton to a vet. So I call our vet. It's 6:30. They're closed for the night. But they were there for accounting stuff. They give me the number for the emergency vet. I call ahead. Tell them we'll be coming, but that I don't know what the injuries are. Just that a car was involved.

I go hop in our car. Drive a block and a half to the scene. There's two fire trucks. There's police cars. Traffic's doing that bottlenecking thing. I park and run over. Instantly get hugged by the witness who'd gotten involved. My spouse is sitting on the sidewalk. One piece. Looks okay. My dog's wrapped in sheets. She's awake. Looking around. What I could understand of her body language was a mixture of pain, but excitement because there's people paying attention to her. And oh how Newton adored every ounce of attention she could beg for.

The witness, we'll call her S now. S volunteers to come with my spouse and I to the emergency animal clinic. She sits in the back of my car while the firemen load poor newton in. Spouse comes with me, even though the firemen wanted them to go to the ER. We agree to go to the ER once we got Newton settled. S's family, two men who I presume to be husband and father, possibly, follow in their car behind us.

We get there. The vet techs wisk Newton off to the back. They need to do xrays. They need someone to stay and talk out costs. S volunteers to take Spouse to the ER. Spouse agrees to go. So I stay at the vet by myself. They settle me in a room, where I text friends updates about all this. I'm scared. And all I wanted was to hug my dog.

The vet shows up after a bit. She's very calm, very kind, and amazingly empathetic. She explains that Newton wasn't succumbing to the medicine as quickly as they'd like. She's too excited. Too many new people to meet. Gets excited every time someone comes into the room. Classic Newton. So, they only got the xrays from the one side at that time.

Her spine is fine. But a hip is shattered. There's shards. One hip is also dislocated. My heart's in my stomach. Vet explains that if it's just the one leg shattered, they can amputate. But if it's both, then it's not good. She explains that the dislocation would have to be fixed via surgery. It can't just be popped back in. She explains that our town doesn't have an orthopedic surgeon for dogs. We'd have to go to one of two major cities, two hours away. The vet then explains that she'll get better xrays, once the meds kick in and they can roll Newton over without causing her more pain. So, she draws up the treatment plan for the next twenty four hours. I leave the deposit for the cost of the care. She says she'll call me when she's got more data. And when she's talked to surgeons offices.

And then I go to the ER, trying to not cry because my dog will probably never run or jump, ever again. She's an aussie. They run. They jump. They're energetic. Newton would bounce all over the place in front of our patio door, to greet our neighbors as they walked past. She was constantly knocking down blinds from our hanging blinds there. She loved to play fetch. We've got a long hallway we'd throw tennis balls down, and she'd go chase them and run back. She'd never do any of that again.

I get to the ER. I tell my spouse. They're heartbroken. I call our auto insurance, at the nurse's request, to start that process, while we wait for the doctor to come back from the xrays. When the doctor comes, he says Spouse is fine. No breaks, fractures, or internal injuries. Might have bruising show up in a day or two. So, we're given pain medication to handle that. To note, no bruises have yet appeared, a week later. Spouse physically feels fine. Emotionally is another matter.

So, we go home. We cry. We try to settle down. It's been two and a half hours since my spouse left the house to go on that walk. I make my posts here. We make posts on Facebook. We get an outpouring of concern, love, and prayers, from friends and family alike.

By midnight, I get a call from the vet. They have the rest of the xrays. Both hips are injured. One shattered, one fractured. And then there's the dislocation. There does not appear to be any internal injury though. She'd gotten ahold of both surgical centers in the two nearby cities. Both hospitals can do surgery. But they both would require about ten thousand dollars to do it. And, they both note that Newton is eleven. She's classified as a senior dog, despite her energy and good health. She'd never be the same. Therapy after surgery might not be enough. The neat wheels some dogs get, might not be enough. There's no guarantee that her quality of life would be enough, that she wouldn't suffer.

So, I talk to my spouse. And we're breaking. She's been our family for eleven years. We call back. Make the decision, get ready, and go to the clinic. We get to hug her and pet her. We get to give her a few last good treats. We cry. And we get to hold her as she goes to sleep for the last time.

And then we go home again. We still don't know if they've arrested the driver. There isn't a report on the police website yet. We manage, somehow, to sleep. Not very well on my part. By the next morning, there's a police report. The man was arrested and charged with a hit and run.

I try to call our auto insurance back. The adjuster we were assigned to the nigh before, is out of the office for the weekend. So, I wait and then call back on Monday. We start that whole process. She starts contacting the driver's insurance. We talk to the police department and get told we can get ahold of the city prosecutor in a week. We start the process to get a lawyer.

We celebrate Christmas with our son. He doesn't live at home now. Got his own place. And a dog of his own there. He brings her over when he comes. And for a few hours, we're able to cuddle and play with a sweet dog again. It's not the same. It hurts a little. But it heals a little too.

Today is my birthday. And today I get to go pay the company that handled Newton's cremation. And pick up the clay pawprint that they made for me. Happy birthday to me. I know my Newton is no longer in pain. And that she was her beautiful smiley self, right to the last moment. I will miss her forever. But I know that we'll be okay. Eventually.

If you've read this far, and you feel the need to do something, or say something, then feel free to tag me in posts of cute dogs or cats, or other animals. Or, if you're wanting to do a more monetary action, maybe donate to organizations like the Old Friends Senior Dog Sanctuary. That's what I'm doing for my Facebook Birthday Fundraiser. You don't have to give through mine specifically. You don't even have to give to them in particular. Heck, you don't even have to tell me about it. I just appreciate that there are groups like theirs, that can provide good quality of life, to senior dogs, who have that chance.

And for anyone wondering if we're going to get another dog, we are. We put in an application at our local humane society. It might feel fast. But it's so quiet in here now. We need someone to carry Newton's torch onwards. We've looked at a few dogs already. We've not found our one, yet. But we're looking.

Thank you for reading all this. I'm sorry if this post was difficult for you in anyway. I've got a lot of mourning left to do. So for now:

Goodbye my sweet, silly girl.

Newton 2008-2019

#long post #content warning #cw #goodbye my sweet girl #dana in mourning

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bytheangell · 5 years

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Long for the Next Distraction

(Read on AO3) (inspired by this tweet) (also blood donation so needle tw!)

“Blood drive, hosted by Pride! This Friday, noon to four, outside the East Commons!”

Alec normally avoids eye contact with the people on campus with clipboards and flyers but the guy in front of him is the sort who demands attention. His tight black jeans, black and red shirt, and the matching red streak through his hair look more put together than Alec has felt in his entire life. And once he makes the accidental eye contact the guy smiles at him, and the color that rises high on Alec’s cheeks matches all of those accents.

“Coming to the blood drive Friday?” He holds a flyer out to Alec and Alec hesitates just a moment before taking it from him - noticing the black polish on his nails and too many intricate rings to take in at a glance.

Alec is suddenly very aware of the faded gray sweatpants and letterman jacket he’s wearing from his high school, and the rough calluses of his hands that brush against the impossibly smooth skin of the guy handing him the flyer.

Underneath the basic date/time/place of the event are a number of facts and statistics which focus on the percentage of Americans banned from donating blood simply because they’re men who have sex with other men, and other disparities between the national blood shortage and the restrictions keeping an entire willing subsection from helping. It isn’t just for a good cause - it’s to raise awareness, too. These are the sorts of things he wants to get involved in one day… when he can casually admit to more than just Jace and Isabelle that he’s gay, that is. He isn’t hiding it anymore, and that alone is a huge step for him. He simply isn’t broadcasting it, either. He remembers a day not too long ago where he would’ve take one look at the flyer and dropped it like even being associated with holding it might ruin him, and something warms in him at the very positive shift in his life since the start of this year.

“Sure,” Alec says immediately. He hadn’t really thought about it before now, but with any luck in his college dating life this might be his last chance to donate blood for a long, long while. Not that he’s going to say that out loud, but he wants to help while he can.

The blonde next to Alec raises an eyebrow. “What are you--” but falls silent as Alec ‘accidentally’ hits him in the side with his elbow when he brings his arm back in from taking the flyer.

“We’ll be there,” Alec repeats, his words taking on a pointed tone as he side-eyed Jace.

“I’ll see you Friday then-” The guy’s eyes dart down to a space on the chest of Alec’s jacket where his name is carefully stitched in gold thread, before turning back up to his face with a smile. “-Alec.”

Alec gives a slightly flustered nod and smiles back, starting to walk away with Jace following close behind.

“Alec, you hate needles.” Jace points out. “The last time you needed a shot-” “Shut up,” Alec cuts him off. “That was forever ago, I’ll be fine. Plus, it’s for a good cause.”

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say.” Alec can hear the smirk in Jace’s tone before he even looks over. “I’m sure the cause is the only reason you’re going.”

“Oh, look, it’s that cute redhead from Econ!” Alec says suddenly, and Jace stops walking to whip his head around in every direction.

“What? Where?!” He frowns when he realizes Alec is just messing with him. “Alright, point taken. Let’s just grab dinner and I’ll stop giving you a hard time about blood guy.”

“...we’re not calling him that.” Alec decides immediately, turning left to head to the dining hall with a small smile he’s careful to hide from Jace.

---

When Alec shows up on Friday he isn’t sure if more of him is hoping Magnus will be there, or hoping he won’t. He only met the guy once, hardly enough for even a proper crush, but it’s the first time he felt those butterflies in his stomach over someone since he reached a place in his life he could - theoretically - do something about it. Of course he’s always been a disaster when it comes to flirting, so it’d probably be better if they just never crossed paths again.

There’s also the small fact that Jace bailed on him at the last minute, and doing this alone isn’t exactly something Alec’s looking forward to. In fact, maybe it’s a sign, and he really should just head back to his dorm and get some extra revisions done on his paper. That’d be safer for everyone…

Which is not at all what the fates have in mind for him that day. Once Alec spots the same spiked-up hair and smile he remembers from the other day it’s too late to turn around.

“You came!” The guy says, practically beaming. “Alec, right?”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” Alec points out, unable to help a too-wide smile in return. His energy really is infectious. “And yeah, it’s Alec. I don’t think I caught your name, though…” he says, obviously inviting the information.

“Magnus. The pleasure’s mine, I’m sure.” Magnus shifts the stack of flyers he’s holding to his left hand to reach his right out to shake Alec’s. His nails are a deep crimson today to match the highlights in his hair, Alec notices. When Alec brings his gaze back up from Magnus’ hands he finds Magnus staring rather intently at his eyes, and Magnus doesn’t look away when Alec catches him doing it, either. A faint blush rises in Alec’s cheeks for the second time in as many encounters with Magnus and he makes quick work of the handshake and turns his gaze to the side.

There’s a table set up with flyers, stickers, pins, and a donation jar to support the group. Alec doesn’t hesitate to reach into his pocket and pull out a $20 to toss inside even though he doesn’t take anything. It’s the only cash on him but he isn’t hurting for money, and he’d only blow it on lattes from the overpriced place on campus anyway.

“Wow, thanks! Sure you don’t want something?” Another guy manning the table with dark brown hair and glasses offers, but Alec shakes his head.

“No, thanks. I don’t really--” he starts, but hesitates, not sure how to say what he wants to say without it coming out all wrong.

“Hey, say no more, that’s cool! We always welcome the support of allies.” “Oh, I’m not an ally,” Alec says instinctively as he moves away from the table.

“Oh,” Magnus says, sounding deflated. It isn’t until Alec sees the face Magnus makes that he stops to think about how that sounded.

“Shit, no, I don’t mean--” Alec stutters out, not sure how this could possibly get any worse. So with that in mind he takes a quick glance around before finally managing, “I mean, I’m gay.” It’s a work in progress, saying it out loud as a statement rather than a secret, but he’s getting there.

“Oh!” Magnus repeats, in a much different tone this time around.

“Just not, you know…” Alec glances at the display on the table. “...I’m just not quite at rainbow bumper-stickers yet.” His voice is quiet and he averts his gaze to his sneakers, studying them very intently until Magnus speaks again.

“No judgment here. Really, it’s cool.” Magnus obviously picks up on the anxiety Alec was feeling about the admission and the reassurances are enough to bring Alec’s attention back to the reason he’s here in the first place, which he almost forgot after everything else.

Magnus steps a little closer, holding out one of the flyers from the other day with the facts on them. “You do know that there are regulations against donating. If you’ve… been active lately.” Magnus doesn’t look embarrassed to talk about it, though he’s doing his best to be quiet and discreet so it isn’t a thing for passersby to overhear.

Alec realizes what he’s hinting at and nods, praying that he doesn’t sound as pathetic as he feels. “I know. I haven’t quite, uh, gotten there yet, either.” He’s suddenly regretting everything that drove him to show up here today, because the last thing he wants to be doing is discussing is lack of a sex life with the hot flyer guy.

“Hey, no judgement there, either,” Magnus repeats with that easy smile back on his face. “Just didn’t want you to be wasting your time. A lot of people don’t realize until they’re filling out the questionnaire.”

Alec nods again, wishing he had something to say that wasn’t prolonged and increasingly awkward silence on his end while he waits for the person already talking to the donation crew to finish filling their form out. Thankfully, Magnus picks up the slack.

“You didn’t bring your blonde friend?” Magnus asks, and Alec shakes his head and hides the flicker of a frown that crosses his features, trying not to give away how nervous he is to be there alone.

“No, he got held up after class,” Alec shrugs, but bites down on the corner of his lower lip a little.

The lady at the door of the donation van motions for them to come over and Magnus nods that way, walking Alec over to the door and following him inside to continue talking to him just a bit longer.

“You alright?” Magnus asks, catching the way Alec rubs at the back of his neck once they’re inside the van. Alec wonders if he looks as anxious as he suddenly feels.

“Yeah, I”m fine! Never better.” Obviously forced, too excited. Alec is trying too hard and if Magnus doesn’t notice the lab technician certainly does.

“This isn’t your first time giving blood, is it?” The woman in the lab coat asks as she makes her way over to him with the standard form to fill out on a tablet.

“No,” Alec says, and that much is casual and confident because it isn’t a lie. He just leaves out the fact that every time ended with him on the floor, if not during the process then immediately after.

“Well then, you know the drill. Just fill this out and we’ll get going.” The tech smiles at him.

Magnus looks back towards the door, fidgeting with the flyers in his hands. He has the look of someone who knows he should probably go and Alec realizes he stopped bringing in new volunteers to linger and talk with him.

But Alec doesn’t want him to leave again, especially not as he looks at the needle attached to a tube just a few feet away, eyes widening slightly.

“Do you want me to stay?” Magnus asks, but Alec shakes his head. Needing someone to hold his hand while he donates blood isn’t the first impression he wants to make.

“No, I’m fine,” Alec insists, making his way over to the chair in the far corner of the van. The tech pulls out the needle and gives it a tap, and that’s all it takes.

Alec’s vision starts to spin, the edges going black as his breathing comes in short, sharp gasps, and he sways. Alec doesn’t have time to react before he feels his knees go weak underneath him and the room goes black.

--------

The flyers flutter to the ground at his feet the instant Magnus sees Alec start to sway. He’s next to Alec in an instant, arms outstretched to catch him the best he can. Mostly he softens the fall, allowing Alec to tumble into him before backing them against the wall to brace himself. Alec’s body slumps against his chest and Magnus can’t keep his grip, only managing to let him slide down to the floor as gently as possible.

“Let’s get him to a bed,” the tech suggests, moving to help Magnus carry him over to one of two makeshift beds for just-in-case scenarios like this. Alec’s legs dangle over the edge but at least it’s better than nothing.

“I’ll get some water and crackers for when he wakes up,” Magnus says, thinking of the food he has in his backpack outside.

“We have the juice and food for the donors right over there,” the tech points out. “It’s usually for after donations to keep this from happening, but…” She laughs a little, clearly no stranger to fainting donors, and Magnus grabs a plastic bottle of orange juice and a packet of crackers - and some oatmeal raisin cookies (just in case, since he has no idea what the guy likes) - before walking them over to the table next to Alec’s chair. He sets them down and then lingers, hesitating next to the bedside.

“Are you going to stay with your friend until he wakes up?” The tech asks, and Magnus only falters a few seconds before nodding.

“Yeah, I can stay.” Magnus knows he should be outside but Simon will be fine on his own for a bit. He doesn’t point out that he’s only spoken to Alec twice for a grand total of 10 seconds, let alone long enough to be his ‘friend’. But he doesn’t want him to wake up here alone, either. This was obviously what Alec was so worried about earlier, the poor guy.

So Magnus takes a minute to go pick up the papers he dropped earlier before settling in, sitting down in the chair next to the makeshift bed and sending Simon a quick text to let him know what’s happening. Simon responds back with more winking and heart-eye faces than should reasonably be in any single message, and Magnus rolls his eyes… but not without a small smile. He was very decidedly giving Alec looks the other day and today, just some minor flirting, but he was almost positive there was something there in the responses he got out of Alec.

When Alec starts to stir Magnus tenses by his side. Will he even want him there when he wakes back up? Is this going to seem way too creepy, like some horror movie stalker level of ‘I was watching you sleep’ concern over a guy he didn’t even know? They already had what was probably a way-too-personal conversation outside about his sexuality and sexual activity, even if it did serve an actual purpose, and the poor guy probably wants to get as far away from him as possible…

It’s too late for those sorts of worries because Alec’s eyes flutter open and land on him with confusion, slowly trying to process what happened.

“Where am I?”

“The blood drive. Why didn’t you say you were afraid of needles?” Magnus asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, fuck.” Alec groans, trying to sit up - it’s a motion he immediately regrets, closing his eyes again quickly before laying back.

“Here,” Magnus opens the orange juice and holds it out to Alec, making sure he has a decent grip on it before letting go. “There are crackers and cookies, too. I wasn’t sure which you’d prefer.”

Alec looks surprised. “Thanks.” He takes a small sip of the juice, smiles a little, then takes another before answering Magnus’ question about the needles. “I was hoping I was over that. It’s been about a year since the last time.” Alec sighs.

The tech reappears at the sound of their voices.

“Oh good, you’re awake, and you already have some juice and food. Take your time with those and head back home whenever you’re feeling up to it, alright? No rush.” Her voice is kind and patient in a way that tells them she sees this plenty of times for it to not be even remotely surprising.

“Actually… I’d like to try again. If-” Alec starts, catching all of them by surprise by his insistence, before he turns to Magnus. “Would you stay and distract me? Just until it’s started? Then I’ll be fine, I swear.”

Magnus isn’t sure why he feels butterflies over the request, reminding himself Alec is only asking him because he’s the only one there and no other reason.

“Sure. I’ve been told I can be quite distracting, so I might as well put those skills to good use,” he says with a wink, noting the way Alec bites back a laugh with success.

“If you’re positive,” the tech starts slowly. “I’ll try one more time, but if it happens again you’re done.”

Alec nods determinedly and they relocate to the chair again, with Magnus pulling a spare one over to sit across from him. He has to admire Alec’s dedication. Most people wouldn’t have even humored the idea of showing up in the first place, let alone a second attempt after passing out.

She starts to prep a spot on Alec’s left arm, and the moment Alec’s face turns towards it Magnus immediately reaches a hand out and touches his chin lightly. It’s instinctive, like dropping the papers to catch him, but this time he freezes for a moment once he realizes what he’s doing before slowly guiding Alec’s face back to look at him instead, hoping he isn’t being too out of line.

Alec doesn’t seem to mind.

In fact, he appears properly distracted by the touch to his chin, so Magnus drops his hand from Alec’s face to hold Alec’s free hand instead, rubbing small, repetitive circles onto the back of Alec’s hand with his thumb.

“So, tell me a little about yourself, Alec. What are you studying?” Magnus isn’t shy about making eye contact, especially not when those hazel eyes are so lovely to look at.

“Are you really asking me my major? I thought you said you were distracting, not predictable.” There’s an edge to Alec’s tone but he’s clearly trying to make a joke, and Magnus laughs.

“Alright, is that how it is?” There’s a hint of challenge in Magnus’ tone. “I’d say tell me your biggest fear but I think we’ve had enough of those for one day, so…”

Alec’s gaze drifts over to his side at the thought and Magnus’ free hand is back up at his face, bringing it back over again. Maybe he welcomes the excuse to do that again a little too eagerly. “Oh no you don’t.” The tech is holding the needle now, Magnus notes, giving him a subtle motion of warning that she’s ready.

“Alright, so no boring school talk. I guess I could tell you all about how I spend my nights and weekends moonlighting as an exotic dancer, then. There is a lot of glitter, and a surprising amount of tassels. I own this one very interesting pair of assless chaps for country nights, and-”

“OW!”

Magnus feels Alec’s hand squeeze down on his with a surprising amount of strength and winces, wondering if a broken hand is worth sticking around to flirt with an impossibly handsome stranger he’ll likely never see again. He decides it is when Alec slowly releases his grip and looks at him with apologetic puppy eyes that nearly melt him on the spot.

“You’re all set, Alexander. It should only take about 10 or so minutes.”

“-Alexander?” Magnus repeats, eyebrow raised slightly.

“No one calls me that,” Alec says quickly. “It’s just Alec.”

“Pity. I quite like Alexander,” Magnus muses. “Also, for the record, I am not an exotic dancer. I just made that up to make sure I had your attention.”

“...you didn’t have to make up a story for that.” Alec’s tone is surprisingly soft, and there’s a hint of a nervous smile as he adds, “And that’s too bad because I’ve always wanted to actually see a pair of assless chaps. You hear about them but no one ever actually owns them.”

Magnus deadpans. “I said I wasn’t an exotic dancer, I never said I didn’t actually own a pair of assless chaps for country night.”

There’s a pause where Alec looks like he isn’t sure whether to believe him or not, and then they both start laughing.

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious” Alec admits, and Magnus takes a split-second to weigh his options before tossing caution to the wind.

“Maybe you can find out one day… though I think that’s at least third date material.” He watches Alec’s expression shift at the words with a flutter of anticipation.

“You’re probably right,” Alec agrees. “Maybe… maybe we could grab coffee first, sometime? If you want?”

Magnus has no idea why Alec looks so terrified when Magnus is the one who brought the idea up in the first place but it’s still endearing. “Coffee sounds great.” Magnus agrees.

They talk a little bit more about little things - how Magnus dabbles in creative writing in his free time, how Alec’s parents wanted him to study politics but he’s currently undecided and just feeling things out, much to their horror - and before they know it the woman is back to wrap up the donation process, clearing him to leave.

Alec goes to stand - slowly this time - but pauses, looking down.

Magnus realizes he’s still holding Alec’s hand.

“Sorry,” Magnus says, quickly pulling his hand back with a light laugh. “Guess we both got a little distracted.”

Alec laughs back, and Magnus finds that he thoroughly enjoys the sound. It isn’t the first time Alec laughed during their brief conversation and he notices that it always seems slightly surprised, like Alec is caught off guard to be enjoying a moment of simple amusement. It’s a great laugh.

With any luck, Magnus hopes, he’ll get to hear a lot more of it soon.

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #i don't know what this is #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #tw: needles

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officialjessicajewett · 4 years

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Short story (although I beg you to read the entire blog): I’m selling a drawing of the Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain house and donating the profits to preservation and restoration efforts.

BUY THE CHAMBERLAIN HOUSE ORIGINAL ART HERE. BUY THE CHAMBERLAIN HOUSE ART PRINTS HERE.

Now, let’s have the whole story. The links will be at the end of the blog again too. I don’t know if my efforts will be successful but my hope is you’ll feel my passion by the end of this blog.

We’re here to talk about something very near and dear to my heart – the Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain house in Brunswick, Maine. The porches that Chamberlain himself built on his home of over fifty years are in structural danger. Together, you and I are going to help. Buildings like this one belong to all of us.

Briefly, Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain was a Union general in the American Civil War who rose to that rank without formal military training (he was a professor before the war). He volunteered for service, and then later became a four-term governor of Maine, followed by president of Bowdoin College.

His wife, Fanny, was a rare example of an independent woman, having a career of her own as a music teacher and an artist before she decided to get married. The two of them were quite liberal in a lot of ways; believing women should be admitted to college wherever they chose, believing in the right to contraception and family planning, believing in racial equality, and so forth.

For a bit of context into the time and place the Chamberlain family lived, they knew Harriet Beecher Stowe, author of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and attended church with her for years. Stowe sometimes held gatherings of Bowdoin College students in her home where she read chapters of Uncle Tom’s Cabin aloud. Chamberlain took Fanny to some of these readings while they were “dating” (dating wasn’t the term in those days).

National history largely forgot Chamberlain until Ken Burns heavily featured him throughout his documentary series, The Civil War. Then in the early 90s, Jeff Daniels actually played Chamberlain (seen in character on the left) in the film, Gettysburg, followed ten years later by playing him again in Gods and Generals.

His impact reaches far beyond Maine. Even I live in Atlanta and I’m just three miles from both Chamberlain Street and Oakland Cemetery where one of his best friends, General John B. Gordon, is buried.

You’re beginning to see why this family and this house matter to American history. We could sit here discussing Chamberlain’s fascinating life and undeniable affect on Maine history until we write a book. In fact, there are a lot of books about him, his military commands, and his family.

Not only did the family live in this house for over fifty years, but Henry Wadsworth Longfellow rented rooms in the same house before they bought it. Longfellow’s presence in the house is still felt today in the upstairs parlor where a portion of the wallpaper he put up is still there.

This is the house today. Originally, it was only one-and-a-half floors. Chamberlain had the entire structure moved to the corner of Potter and Maine, and then lifted about eleven feet off the ground to build an entirely new first floor addition. He designed most of the first floor himself, including a beautiful curved staircase that greeted guests upon walking through the ruby red foyer. It’s is one of the most architecturally important houses in the state of Maine due to the odd mixture of building and decorating styles blended together from different popular aesthetics in the nineteenth century – Cape Cod, Gothic Revival, and some Art Nouveau influences. Chamberlain wasn’t even a trained architect or interior designer.

The Pejepscot History Center (PHC) rescued the house from demolition in 1983 after decades of being rented out to Bowdoin College students. It had been chopped up into seven apartments and the interior was painted psychedelic colors when they acquired it. Almost 37 years under the careful stewardship of historians and volunteers has seen great strides toward preserving and restoring the home to the way it stood when Chamberlain lived there, but only partially so.

As of my last visit, renters still live in the upper portions of the house in, I believe, three apartments because renting brings in money for upkeep. Many of the unoccupied rooms upstairs haven’t yet been restored either, including all of the Chamberlain family bedrooms. The downstairs bathroom with original fittings and the master bedroom upstairs were being used for storage instead of teaching and tourism. It takes a lot of money to preserve and restore historical buildings. Brunswick is a small town and Maine is a small town state.

Why does the decay of an old house matter to me?

My family name is Jewett. That was, once upon a time, an influential name up in Maine, so much so that if you take a drive over to South Berwick, you can tour my ancestors’ home. I’m related to Sarah Orne Jewett and she left her home to Historic New England when she died. If you click on her name, it’ll take you to the website for that house. There, you’ll see the potential when important places have the resources for full, meticulous restoration and preservation. I have a vision for the Chamberlain home being just as preserved, studied, and restored as the Jewett house.

I’ve had the privilege of visiting the Chamberlain house twice. Tour guides were wonderful and well-informed, the gift shop was better than most battlefield gift shops, and there was a beautiful wheelchair ramp built onto the back porch – a rarity for historical landmarks. In the above photo, you’re looking at my first trip to the house twelve years ago when I was quite sick and underweight compared to now. Sick or not, historical preservation is my passion. So I went to Maine.

I’d like to show you more photos from my trips to the Chamberlain house. I quickly grabbed some from my collection so you can see how special this place is to many of us in the American history, women’s history, and Civil War fields.

In 2018 and 2019, the PHC raised $48,000 for serious restoration work on the exterior of the house. They even got the wheelchair ramp rebuilt on the back porch as a bonus. It was a really spectacular job and it all looks like it belonged on the house from the beginning, although General Chamberlain never had a ramp back there.

The old ramp and porch.

The new ramp and porch.

I’m showing you this because I want you to see what’s possible through the help of donations, foundations, and grants to not only restore historical landmarks but also to make them accessible to more people in the future. Places like this really depend on tourism for cash flow in addition to the few grants that are available. Tourism matters economically to small towns. It pays to have interesting landmarks, speaking in practical terms. We’re American. We understand that money talks.

Take a look at this photo of the house from the 1870s. Do you see the glass porch on the first floor, and then the open air porch above it? Pay attention to those.

I’m letting the Pejepscot History Center explain what happened. This is from their fundraiser page. I’m not sure if the fundraiser page is still open, but if it is, I’ll update this blog with a link.

Thanks to $48,000 raised from foundations and individuals over 2018-2019, we were able to undertake extensive exterior restoration work on the Joshua L. Chamberlain Museum starting in the spring of 2019.

Four faces of the building have now been lovingly restored, but in the process, considerable rot due to deferred maintenance in the past was found and corrected.

This led to fewer funds available for addressing the final part of this Phase I restoration effort: the two historic porches on the southeast corner of the building, which have some of the most interesting architecture on the building, and provide considerable structural support.

Unfortunately, they too have more deterioration than originally anticipated, necessitating additional funds to repair and rebuild the porches correctly.

Chamberlain raised the house 11 feet in the air in 1871 to add the lower story, thereby adding the first floor porch himself. He especially loved these porches. Over the years, he and the family enjoyed sitting on them and raising plants in the ample southern sunshine.

So I decided to make donations interesting. Individually, none of us can afford the $20,000 the PHC needs to raise to save Chamberlain’s porches from decaying and deteriorating. I know I can’t.

But what I can do is use my skills as an artist to draw attention to the house and make it worth your effort to help rescue the house. I’m a portrait artist most of the time, selling commissions of ordinary people as well as portraits set in highly researched historical scenes. To me, the Chamberlain house like all other historical houses are like living things with souls and sets of memories all their own.

The idea occurred to me that if people were willing to buy my portraits of people, perhaps they would be willing to buy a “portrait” of a house. I had already done a Christmas-themed piece of art showcasing the Chamberlain family’s church, First Parish, and I was interested in doing another piece anyway. If I could use my artistic drive to raise awareness for historical preservation, all the better.

So I got to work. Watch the video below to see me in action.

Yes, the manner in which I do my art is a bit different. We’ll go ahead and address the elephant in the room since many of you might be new to my website and my art. If you didn’t guess from my other photos, I’m physically disabled. I was born with a condition called Arthrogryposis and the nature of it means I need to do everything with the tools in my mouth, whether it’s writing, typing, chopping vegetables, sewing, or creating art. I’ve had about nineteen surgeries to date with a high probability of two more surgeries in 2020. Selling art is how I make extra money.

This time, however, I’m not making money from the art. I’ve decided to sell both the original and various sized prints made from the Chamberlain house piece for the benefit of the restoration project. When I sell this piece, I will make a donation from 80% of the profits (I need 20% for shipping, materials, etc.) to the Pejepscot History Center and I will make public all of the pertinent documents. That way everything is crystal clear and there are no questions.

This is the completed piece of art.

It took me about three weeks to complete it. I used a combination of Pentel mechanical pencils with .5 mm lead and Prismacolor Ebony pencils on 11×14-inch mixed media paper. Each detail of the house was researched and replicated to the best of my ability down to the placement of the trees, the curtains from the 1870s photographs, the wrought iron fence design, and the woodwork. If you look up top, you’ll see the famous chimney Chamberlain added after the war with the Maltese cross. He was a Fifth Corps officer and the Maltese cross was their insignia, a symbol found throughout the house.

You’ll be able to purchase this piece of art in my shop.

BUY THE CHAMBERLAIN HOUSE ORIGINAL ART HERE. BUY THE CHAMBERLAIN HOUSE ART PRINTS HERE.

The original, as in the actual piece of art I worked on, is 11×14 inches and costs $385.00 USD. Prints (5×7, 8×10, or 11×17) range in price from $12.00 USD to $24.00 USD and are made on high quality cardstock with a glossy finish.

Orders larger than 8×10 inches are shipped in a tube with the art rolled inside to protect it from rough postal workers. Orders 8×10 and smaller are shipped in flat bubble mailers reinforced with cardboard. All customers are given a tracking number so they can keep an eye on their packages with the postal service as well. Every order within the United States includes free shipping. Shipping for international orders will be calculated at the time of purchase.

Please consider purchasing this piece. It’s such a worthy cause. I realize there is a lot happening in the world, and I’m doing my part for those causes too, but we should care about American history too. We need to be thinking about what kind of tangible legacy we’re going to leave our children and grandchildren. Wouldn’t you want to teach your descendants to celebrate and honor a man who believed in the qualities of a better world that we’re still fighting to create? What better way to honor him and his family than to help preserve the place they loved and called home for over half a century?

If you’re not interested in buying my art, that’s quite all right. There are choices.

One option is to let me collect the donations at PayPal.me/ArtByJessicaJewett and I’ll get it to the Pejepscot History Center for you. Please specify that you are donating to the Chamberlain house in the notes. I’ll send donations on the 15th of every month (when there are any) and I will give you copies of the receipts.

Or you can make a donation directly to the Pejepscot History Center, but please make sure you specify that your donation is for the Chamberlain house. They don’t have digital donations aside from the annual membership drives. The new 2020 membership drive hasn’t been created yet since they are closed until February 4.

To donate by mail:

Pejepscot History Center 159 Park Row Brunswick, ME 04011

By phone: Call (207) 729-6606 to provide a credit card number. They take all major cards.

In person: Drop by their offices at 159 Park Row during open hours.

The Pejepscot History Center is a non-profit, tax-exempt 501(c)(3) organization. Your gift is tax deductible to the full extent allowed by law.

I’m not affiliated with the Pejepscot History Center in any way, nor do I work for them. My fundraising efforts are as a private citizen.

Donation

Please consider making a donation to help me keep up with the cost of art supplies, living expenses, equipment related to my disability, and so forth. The minimum is set at $10.00. Thank you for your generosity.

$10.00

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Buy a piece of art to help with restoration projects on the Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain house. Find out why it's important. Short story (although I beg you to read the entire blog): I'm selling a drawing of the Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain house and donating the profits to preservation and restoration efforts.

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roswelldetails · 5 years

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Episode 111: Champagne Supernova - details

Episode Summary The gala happens, the 4th alien is revealed, Max and Michael talk a bit, and we learn that Liz has another superpower (besides her brain): getting dirty in a junk yard while maintaining a flawlessly unstained dress. Seriously. Not even a smudge on that thing.

Details - this is not an exhaustive list of every single detail, just just a few that might be important now or later.

Meeting at the Crashdown

Isobel describes how the 4th alien controlled her. They were stronger than her and able to completely control her like she wasn’t even present.

Liz says she wants to make more serum because the killer “took most of the serum” when they wrecked her lab. They only have one dose left.

Going against what she said last episode - that all of it was gone.

Police Station

The Ranchero Night flyer has some errors on it - clearly, not everyone in Roswell speaks Spanish. (Sorry, Max.)

Max and Cam are told that Wyatt has more info to share, so they decide to hear him out.

Wyatt reveals that Maria got into a fight with Carla on Cinco de Mayo, leading them to wonder if she could be a suspect.

Max doesn’t think so, because Liz would’ve known, but Cam reminds him that she couldn’t tell he was an alien in the 2 years they worked together.

Fair.

Isobel’s house

Isobel is getting ready for the gala and remembering the night someone used her to glow-hand Rosa to death.

Noah comes up to her, and Isobel wonders if she could get stronger and have more control if she practiced.

Noah makes her promise not to use her powers anymore.

Crashdown

Michael is leaving after picking up food, and Maria walks by without a word.

Michael asks if she was going to pretend she didn't see him, and she tells him she just didn't recongize him in the daylight.

He tells her he’s gonna skip the gala and pull an all-nighter.

Maria tells him that Alex is skipping too, because maybe he spent enough time there.

Michael assures her that his thing with Alex has been over a long time and what happened wasn’t her fault.

Alien fallout shelter of Science

Michael is working on his project when his hand seizes up.

And then a smoke bomb goes off in his jacket, knocking him out.

Liz’s room

All Rosa’s stuff has been moved out of the room.

Liz tells her dad that her study with Dr. Avila is getting moved to Palo Alto, but she’s not leaving him.

Arturo doesn’t want to hold her back, but Liz assures him that nothing holds her back.

And she wants her dad to explore getting citizenship.

Outside police station

Max (having apparently gotten dressed at the station), heads out to the gala with flowers for Liz.

And promptly gets clobbered over the head with a glass bottle, knocking him out cold.

But the street is completely empty, so no one sees.

And apparently no cops notice, even though he was right in front of the station.

And Max somehow did’t see the person who clobbered him even though they would’ve been like 4 steps away from him.

Because it’s television.

Gala

Arturo and Liz arrive together.

Maria wonders why Liz wore red lipstick - is it armor? Because it’s not a good color for hooking up.

Liz tells Maria there’s an opportunity for her in Palo Alto, and Maria encourages her to stay in Roswell with Max.

Because they fit together like a “zupple piece” (puzzle piece)

Maria seems to be under the influence of something at this point.

Liz and Cam talk, and Cam tells Liz about how her sister’s fate is basically in the hands of Jesse Manes who wants her to give him info.

Liz wants to help Cam, and is impressed that she’s choosing to protect Max over her sister.

She’s just trying to do the write thing. (And also, it’s been implied that she cares about Max.)

Isobel enters and Cam reveals that her and Max are looking into Maria as a suspect.

Isobel thinks it makes sense because Maria has had plenty of opportunity, and also has a “weird alien force field around her brain.”

But Liz refuses to believe it.

In the ladies room, Liz runs into Maria and asks her to watch her purse for a second while she’s in a stall.

Maria goes into Liz’s purse and steals the serum, leaving the room with it.

Liz goes to tell Cam and Isobel that Maria took the serum - a fake one that she had as a decoy - the real one is safe.

She thinks Maria has been roofied, and wants to run home and check Maria’s drink under the microscope.

Luckily, Cam has roofie-detecting nail polish and confirms that Maria has been drugged, making her innocent.

Later, they find Maria laid out in the museum’s alien autopsy room. (Gross, why do they have that room in the museum!?)

Isobel tells Liz that she can’t make someone do something they didn’t already want to do, so deep down Liz really did want to run away from Max that summer.

Which goes against what we’ve seen in episode 104 where Isobel made Racist Hank donate money to the Friends of Immigrants Partnership.

And she couldn’t walk very well right after, indicating that it’s probably more a matter of how strong she is, than whether or not she can really only influence someone to do something the secretly wanted to do anyway. So there, Isobel.

Liz guesses that the guys are in the Alien fallout shelter of Science, and runs off to free them.

Alien fallout shelter of Science

Max wakes up while Michael is up the ladder trying to open the hatch.

Max and Michael start talking about things. Max admits that Maria is a suspect.

Michael tells him he’s wrong - she knows her. Leading Max to guess that Michael is into her.

Max thought he was gay, so Michael clarifies his sexuality to Max.

He’s bisexual, it’s not complicated.

Max laments that they never talk anymore, so they start talking about their past resentments.

The drama around Rosa’s murder

But also the stuff going back to Michael not getting adopted

Max tells Michael that he’s been carrying the guilt about Michael not getting adopted with them all this time, and that he’s his family and he’s never really alone.

Michael starts collecting the dust into a test tube, and his hand stiffens, causing Max to ask for the real story of how the injury happened.

Michael finally tells Max the truth.

Michael says he never let Max heal him because Alex would’ve noticed.

But also because he Alex had given him hope that he could have a place here, and he wanted the scars as a reminder that hope is dangerous and he should avoid it.

Sanders Auto

Liz reveals that she has the power to move things around a junk yard, getting grease all over her face, but not a single mark on her dress.

She frees the guys from the shelter, and Max is super impressed by her beauty.

Michael wants them to make out about it later and focus on the murderous problem at hand.

Gala

Michael decides to watch over Maria while Liz, Max, and Isobel go back out to the party so they can keep up appearances.

Max and Liz dance and Max says that whoever locked them up didn’t want them at the party.

Maria wakes up and tells Michael he needs to stop showing up for her.

While dancing, Liz tells Max that she has a tendency to run away and she wants him to go after her if she caves into that feeling again.

Liz and Arturo dance, and she wants to talk about citizenship again.

He tells her a friend (Noah) offered to help him through the process. His firm volunteers at Ranchero Night.

Liz becomes suspicious of Noah.

Max goes to check on Maria and asks about her fight with Carla.

It turns out that Maria saw Carla leaving with someone who was married.

When they ask who it was, she looks at Max. (We can assume she indicated it was Noah.)

Max and Liz compare notes on Noah.

Noah was the one who suggested Liz go to Grant’s warehouse.

Noah was the one who told Max not to investigate Wyatt.

These things seems sinister in retrospect.

Max asks Isobel to check Noah’s mind to make sure he’s not guilty.

Liz runs home to go check Noah’s blood under her microscope. (She hasn’t done laundry so her dirty lab coat is still in her hamper.)

Isobel agrees to check Noah’s mind after she remembers that Noah made her promise not to use her powers.

Inception

Isobel gets into Noah’s mind to ask if he still loves her.

He says he'll never let anyone hurt her, he'll protect her - but doesn't answer her question.

She tries to make him answer, but can't.

He tells her they've been connected since he first heard her voice.

She asks if he loved Rosa Ortecho, and he says he still does and always will.

Noah is in control of the mind warp. He says "I know you think you're in control in here, but i'm in control out there."

Liz’s house

Liz checks the blood and confirms it’s not human.

Gala

Isobel walks up to Max and says Noah is innocent, and walks out the door.

Liz calls Max and tells him she checked his blood and it is Noah.

Max realizes Isobel is being mind-controlled and goes after her.

Outside the gala

Max confronts Isobel, so she beats him up while he stands there. Then she grabs his gun and aims it at him.

Cam appears and aims her gun at Isobel, causing her to run off.

Isobel gets into the car with Noah, looking blank. Noah tells her it's time to go home and spend time alone.

Liz leans over from the back seat and stabs Noah in the neck with the serum then runs down the street.

Noah uses his mind to stop her in her tracks and turn her around. (telekinesis)

He comes closer, turns her again, and puts his hand on her to glow-hand her to death. (Max’s glow-hand of death)

(And we already know he has mind-control, so Noah officially has all the alien powers.)

The serum kicks in, Noah loses his powers, and Liz punches him.

Before he can hit her back, Max comes running and tackles him, punching him multiple times.

Max and Liz hug, and Isobel snaps out of it and comes over, hugging Max as well.

#roswell new mexico #liz ortecho #maria deluca #max evans #michael guerin #isobel evans #jenna cameron #papa ortecho #episode 111 #details #roswell nm season 1

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the-connection · 6 years

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Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Bernie Sanders visited Wichita, Kansas, in support of congressional candidate James Thompson. Is the red state ready to turn blue?

In a dim corridor backstage, Vermont senator Bernie Sanders looked down at Kansas congressional hopeful James Thompsons denim jeans and black boots. Hey James, Sanders said without cracking a smile. Could I borrow your cowboy shoes?

Thompson took just a second to recover from the razzing.

I wear them because the shits so deep around here, he replied.

Through the thick cement walls of this downtown Wichita convention hall, we heard the roar of 4,000 Kansans awaiting speeches by Sanders, Thompson and progressive rocket ship Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez in support of Thompsons run for Congress. It was Ocasio-Cortezs first political appearance outside New York after her remarkable primary win in June, when the 28-year-old democratic socialist defeated one of the most powerful House Democrats in Washington. Here in the midwest, Thompson who also has never held office has tapped into similar yearning for a representative who has more old friends at the local pub than in DC.

The choice of location for Ocasio-Cortezs debut outside New York is poetic: like Sanders, she and Thompson have refused corporate donations, and this district is home to perhaps the greatest conservative influencers in US history the Koch brothers, whose political network pledged to spend $400m on conservative candidates before the midterms.

Its one thing to push the Democratic party left in New York City. It is quite another to rabble-rouse for universal healthcare, wind energy and a livable wage in Charles Kochs backyard. Doing so takes, my friends in the north-east might say, hutzpah.

Or, as my Kansas farmer grandpa might have said: That Jim is full of piss and vinegar.

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez laughs backstage with congressional candidate James Thompson. Photograph: Amy Kontras for the Guardian

No congressional candidate has ever done what Thompson is doing in this era of unrestricted corporate campaign donations: hold a progressive sword at the precise geographic heart of the dark-money beast. When I asked whether anyone has, say, tried to break his kneecaps, Thompson let out a big laugh.

Id like to see them try, he said. Thats one good thing about being 6ft 2.

Such humor joking in a manner that polite society might view as unseemly is the necessary roughness that millions of Americans develop to survive on job sites, in barrooms, in their own homes while the air conditioning window unit drips water on to the carpet.

It only makes sense that a progressive movement unifying the working class across lines of race, gender, age, religion and location would contain candidates like Thompson, who is both a civil rights attorney who represented detained immigrants and victims of police brutality and a former bouncer at a Wichita country-western nightclub called InCahoots.

Fight for America

A hard story often comes with hard language. During a period of homelessness, Thompson bathed, washed clothes and fished for food in a canal. He fought for emancipation from an abusive parent and attended 16 schools before finishing high school. This is a not a man who, in the face of rising authoritarianism, will be civil to please pearl-clutching political leaders on either side of the aisle.

This is precisely his appeal in southern Kansas. Thompson might be a new star for coastal reporters. But his combination of progressive ideas and unapologetically impolite language has been gaining supporters and even converting some Trump voters for a year and a half without the national Democratic party lifting a finger.

In contrast to a version of liberal America often criticized as, well, a bunch of wimps, his campaign slogan is Fight for America.

Attendees watch a short promotional video at Century II Performing Arts and Convention Center in Wichita. Photograph: Amy Kontras for the Guardian

Thompson told me he was first encouraged to run for office by Republican friends who felt out of sync with a party morphing into an insanely right caricature. A pro-choice, gun-owning military veteran who supports legal weed and social security expansion, Thompson can kick dirt with farmers at rural events, walk in Wichitas recent pride and Juneteenth parades, and post a photo of himself smiling with two guys wearing bearded deplorable shirts after a long conversation about the issues.

He nearly won a special election last year. Now Ocasio-Cortez and Sanders who won the Kansas Democratic caucus for the 2016 presidential nomination two-to-one are here to make sure he gets it done in the midterms, thus flipping this district blue for the first time in 26 years.

The eager crowd, which outgrew its original venue and was relocated at the last minute to accommodate thousands more, is mostly midwesterners who loathe Trump and were long ago written off as a waste of resources by the national Democratic party. Recently governed by extreme conservative Sam Brownback for eight years, they were resisting long before it was a national movement.

In contrast to red-hatted rallies that in 2016 got far more political coverage, they are both pissed off and peaceful, both riled up for change and diverse in racial makeup.

Thompson knows that, while the progress his would-be constituents seek is toward a serene, humane society, the fire in their bellies must now be summoned.

I had to fight all the time. Literally and figuratively, Thompson will tell them from the stage, as he asks them to fight now alongside him. Thats just part of growing up in poverty. When I see people struggling and I talk about it, Im not talking about it from up on a hill somewhere.

Ocasio-Cortez, who has faced different uphill battles, carries herself with the same self-possession. She taunted on the Late Show with Stephen Colbert that the current president doesnt know how to deal with a girl from the Bronx. She and Thompson evoke the unflagging spirit of California representative Maxine Waters, who received death threats for unapologetic criticism of the corrupt Washington regime and responded: You better shoot straight.

This scrappy attitude is not the empty bluster of a fearful ego with an orange combover seeking to preserve itself. It is a knowing of ones own strength, fortified by the mortal dangers of poverty, labor, misogyny, white supremacy.

It is the Statue of Liberty looking a bully in the eye in a barroom and saying to someone standing behind her: Hold my torch.

Presence is such a basic thing to ask for

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez stands for the national anthem backstage. Photograph: Amy Kontras for the Guardian

To back up their talk, Ocasio-Cortez and Thompson quite literally walk the walk.

The day after the Wichita event, Ocasio-Cortez told me by phone from Missouri, where she was campaigning for congressional candidate and fellow progressive Cori Bush, that physical presence both builds support and dissolves the political polarities on which so many pundits feed.

When someone actually knocks on your door or goes to your civic association meeting and you actually touch their hand, it really does change everything, said Ocasio-Cortez, who recently tweeted a photo of the shoes she wore door-to-door, holes worn through the soles, with the comment: Respect the hustle.

There are places in the Bronx and neighborhoods in Queens that look like neighborhoods in Wichita. I walked in thinking I was in for a world of hurt, she told me. There is this impulse to just abandon it. To just say, you know what, forget it its a lost cause. Its just gonna be difficult or hurtful or dangerous. But I decided to go in anyway.

What she got for her leap of faith was one of the greatest political upsets in modern history and an appreciation for the extent to which working-class voters have felt forgotten.

Her 48-hour tour of Wichita, Kansas City, Kansas, and St Louis, Missouri, confirmed this theory, recalling fellow community organizer Barack Obamas musings about his well-received travels through the rural midwest as a black liberal.

The thing that I hear over and over and over again is Thank you for coming here. Thank you for coming, she said, her tone implying incredulousness that, besides Sanders, other Democrats with national platforms hadnt deigned to visit. Presence is such a basic thing to ask for.

Sanders told me by phone from Washington, a few days after his Kansas stop, that a 50-state strategy is common sense.

It is beyond comprehension, the degree to which the Democratic party nationally has essentially abdicated half of the states in this country to rightwing Republicans, including some of the poorest states in America, those in the south, Sanders said. The reason I go to Kansas and many so-called red states is that I will do everything that I can to bring new people into the political process in states which are today conservative. I do not know how you turn those states around unless you go there and get people excited.

Bernie Sanders reviews his notes backstage before speaking at the event. Photograph: Amy Kontras for the Guardian

For many in the crowd, his visit was validation of months of hard work that takes particular gumption in a place described by so many headlines as Trump country.

Since launching his first run for the seat in early 2017, Thompson says, he and his campaign have knocked on 40,000 doors and made 330,000 phone calls. Including phone bankers across the country, the effort has included 7,000 volunteers.

That hustle has already knocked 25 points off the Republican partys lead from 31 points when the current secretary of state, Mike Pompeo, won in 2014 to just six points in last years special election won by Representative Ron Estes. Before the rally with Sanders and Ocasio-Cortez, Thompson reflected on the difference between his approach and that of opponent Estes when hes back from Washington.

[He] is either in a vehicle waving or walking down the center of the street waving, Thompson said. He had 400 individual donations in the special election. We had 29,000. As long as hes got his 400 people that are willing to donate money, and the big corporate Pacs giving money, he doesnt need to dirty his hands shaking hands with people.

On social media, Thompson has been challenging Estes to debate him in each of the districts 17 counties show up or shut up with no response. While under a very different context, its not so unlike when New York representative Joe Crowley kept failing to appear at primary debates against Ocasio-Cortez.

Thinking that you can get a job without showing up for the job interview just is wild to me, Thompson said.

This is the great irony of conservative criticism of progressive candidates. Candidates such as Sanders, Ocasio-Cortez and Thompson are accused of seeking handouts for lazy moochers, while evidence suggests they are the hardest workers in the fight.

I would prefer to sit down and talk. But if you wanna be an ass, all right

When Ocasio-Cortez was in fifth grade, her tough teacher in the New York City public schools was a Kansas native with a fierce love for her home state. Young Ocasio-Cortez was nervous, she told the Wichita audience, when the teacher organized a state history project and assigned her Kansas.

After reading a lot about wheat, as a 10-year-old, Ocasio-Cortez said to laughs, I learned that Kansas was founded in a struggle over the conscience of this nation.

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez reviews her notes backstage. Photograph: Amy Kontras for the Guardian

She referenced the Kansas-Nebraska Act of 1854, which charged the Kansas territory with deciding whether they would allow slavery. Abolitionists fought bloody border wars with neighboring, slave-holding Missouri sparking the civil war and Kansas was established as a free state.

That is the crucible and the soul of this state, Ocasio-Cortez said, articulating what many Kansans know but rarely see reflected in modern politics, national discussion, or the electoral college that obscures their votes.

Like Sanders and Thompson, she pointed out that persistent notions of Kansas as a deep red state didnt jibe with the large minority she was seeing on the ground. While the Wichita crowd thundered after one of Sanders remarks on stage, Ocasio-Cortez peeked out from behind the curtain with her cellphone. She tweeted the video, adding: The midwest feels pretty all right to me!

Meanwhile, leaders in the Democratic party from the House minority leader, Nancy Pelosi, to former senator Joe Lieberman have been critical of this excitement, saying it wont play in middle America or that moving left harms the party.

If a centrist model is what works [in Kansas] then why has that centrist model not won the past 20 years, and in fact lost by 20-30 points in every election since [1992]? Thompson asked me. The idea that we need to be more like Republicans so we can beat Republicans is asinine. We need to have a clear choice. Something to vote for instead of against.

One such thing would be Medicare for all, he said, which he acknowledged isnt feasible under the current legislature but has pledged to work toward. When describing public healthcare or other programs that have been defunded or privatized into oblivion, he put it in language working-class voters might appreciate.

Its like taking a car, taking the battery out and going, Oh, see, it doesnt run any more. So we need to get rid of it, Thompson said. Put the battery back in.

He laughed when I noted there are a lot of lawmakers who would never think of a car battery as an analogy because theyve never had to change one. Thompson explained that law school taught him to avoid legalese when addressing a jury.

[Voters] want to hear me talking about real solutions in plain language that is not mealy-mouthed and trying to play both sides of the fence, said Thompson, who walked onstage to Garth Brookss 1990 country hit Friends in Low Places. Regardless of whether they agree or not, theyre going to respect that a lot more.

Must be doing something right if Fox is talking about me

Thompson told me that he learned in the military both to be willing to have conversations with people who have different perspectives and to draw a line in the sand when someone doesnt share your openness.

You offer em a choice, Thompson said. I would prefer to sit down and talk. But if you wanna be an ass, all right.

While he does not identify as a democratic socialist like Sanders and Ocasio-Cortez, Thompson is perceived at the national level as a party rebel for his stances on the minimum wage, healthcare and other basic assurances that all three candidates insist will summon voters regardless of location in midterm primaries and elections this year.

Theyre not radical ideas theyre commonsense ideas, Thompson told the crowd at the convention hall. They laughed when he added, Thats why we see a crowd of thousands here today when there was a MAGA rally four days ago that had 50 people at it.

But Thompson got some of the events wildest cheers when he spoke about the supposedly more divisive matters of womens reproductive rights he is a staunch defender of Roe v Wade and drug laws.

When people talk about raising money for our state? Heres an idea: legalize marijuana, he said, and the crowd exploded.

Congressional candidate James Thompson, Bernie Sanders and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez wave at the end of the campaign event. Photograph: Amy Kontras for the Guardian

At another point, he called out false narratives about his home that might cause some to be surprised by the massive gathering at noon on a weekday, months before the election in a midterm year: When people wanna say this is Trump country, I say hell no.

Video of this statement made it on to his least favorite cable television network, later prompting Thompson to tweet with several laugh-cry emojis: Must be doing something right if Fox is talking about me and causing alt-right heads to explode.

Its a herculean undertaking to fight the forces that work against Thompsons campaign: Fox News, the Koch brothers, his own Democratic party. Where Im from, theres only one thing that might hold more sway than they do: straight talk and an authentic handshake.

Solidarity from Sanders, Ocasio-Cortez and other candidates and activists across the country fortifies the progressive Kansans doing the talking and shaking.

If James wins here, Sanders said onstage, this will be not only another progressive member to the Congress. This will be a shot heard around not just this country the world.

All three candidates challenged the crowd to channel the energy of the moment into the civic action that might decide election outcomes.

Im just a figurehead, Thompson said. You are the way that we flip this district. You are the ones that can make the changes that you want. You are the ones that have the power in this country. Its not with the Koch brothers. Its not with the big corporations. Its with you.

The crowd cheered so loudly that a woman behind me plugged her ears with her fingers.

Ron Estes, I hope you look at this crowd and are shakin in your boots, Thompson said. Because were coming for you.

This article was amended on 26 July 2018 to correct the year the Kansas-Nebraska Act was passed to 1854, from 1861 as an earlier version said.

Read more: http://www.theguardian.com/us

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egooksconnolly · 6 years

Text

How the first running guide dogs are leading blind runners to newfound independence

Conquering Heartbreak Hill in the Boston Marathon. Covering 26.2 miles through New York City's five boroughs. Racing among runners from all 50 states and more than 60 countries in the Marine Corps Marathon.

These would be momentous feats for any runner. They're especially momentous for 47-year-old Thomas Panek. Panek is blind, so he ran these marathons (and plenty of other road races) tethered to another person who steered him through the courses.

But Panek's most emotional race finish was a casual five-miler through Central Park: the Poland Spring Marathon Kickoff. It was his first race without human assistance.

He still had a guide, of course: His yellow Labrador retriever, Gus.

[RELATED1]

"It was an incredibly freeing experience—like taking the training wheels off," Panek says. "When you're a kid and you're learning how to ride a bike, you've always got those two extra wheels there. That's what it's like running with a guide runner. You've got a person on your left and sometimes a person on your right during a marathon. You're pedaling, and you get it done.

"But when it comes to running with a guide dog, it's just you. You're telling the dog the direction to go and he's keeping you out of harm's way."

Running with Gus was made possible by Panek's passion project: Running Guides, the first program to train running guide dogs.

Barking up the right tree: How Panek launched Running Guides and what it takes for pups to graduate

Panek lost his vision in his early 20s, so guide dogs have effectively been an extension of his body for decades. Panek runs and exercises nearly every day, so leaving his sidekick behind was awkward at the very least and devastating at best. So in some way the idea of pounding the pavement with guide dogs was a natural (if not immediately obvious) progression for the canine's duties.

Plus, as CEO and president of Guiding Eyes for the Blind—a nonprofit school in Westchester, N.Y., that trains guide dogs to assist people with vision loss—Panek was in the perfect position to propose running guide dog training to the right people.

Even so, there were obvious concerns: Running is outside the conventional responsibilities of guide dog work. Panek also wondered if long-distance running would be healthy for the guide dog, and safe for both parties.

"There are certainly breeds of dogs—herding dogs, in particular—that are used to covering big distances," Panek says. "Shepherds can withstand longer mileage. Labradors love to run, but for shorter distances."

But a penchant for running comes down to personality above all else, Panek adds. "Not all of us run marathons, but many of us like the shorter distances, too. So it's really about pairing the right dog, and the pace of that dog, with the right person."

[PQ]

So as Panek started developing the program, he made a point to match fast, distance-ready dogs with long-distance runners (although for now the recommended mileage for guide dogs is capped at five miles). As for the training process, it's pretty much identical to Guiding Eyes' usual standards.

All of Guiding Eyes' puppies are born in their puppy center in Westchester. After eight or nine weeks, the pups are placed in volunteer homes where they begin to socialize and learn under their Volunteer Puppy Raiser. Once they're "young adults" (by dog standards), they return home to the Yorktown Heights campus, at which they're assessed to see what they like to do and whether their personalities coincide with the ideal characteristics of a guide dog.

"If they're confident and able to deal with distractions and noises, then they can go into the guide dog training program," Panek says.

[RELATED2]

Next, a training team member will take a few dogs out each day—there are currently 165 dogs on campus—to determine which like to run, and if they can safely navigate obstacles like benches, light posts, errant children, congested areas, and other animals. The guide dog would do that work anyway—now the dog's just doing it while running.

"The running guide dogs have that baseline ability plus some—it's almost like getting a sports car," Panek says. "It's capable of doing everything a car can do, but faster. Plus, we train our dogs in Manhattan, and you know what they say about New York City: If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere."

Courtesy Image

The last part is called a "final blindfold". If the dog can pass the obstacle test with the trainer blindfolded and unable to correct, then he or she is approved to help a blind person navigate the real world.

"It's a high bar, and it's never been done before, but we now have more than two dozen running guide dogs and a long waiting list of people from around the country who are going to be coming in," Panek says.

Klinger, a German shepherd, was the first dog to graduate as a specially trained running guide. Panek's Lab, Gus, was the first guide dog to be trained as a running guide. Inspired by Gus' example, Guiding Eyes added a protocol to determine if current guide dogs, who have already been paired with blind men and women, like to run—great news, because 975 dogs have graduated guide dogs training.

[RELATED3]

At its core, Running Guides is about offering blind and visually impaired runners a greater degree of freedom.

"I've had great [human] guide runners who have been attentive to making sure I didn't run into something, then I've had other [humans] run me straight into a pole," Panek says. "You become fearful because you're not 100% sure that the person is always thinking they have to navigate for you. But in the three years I've had Gus as a guide dog, he's never bumped me into anything. It's his job. It's what he knows. He's always focused on me and making sure I clear obstacles. He won't walk two feet without making sure there's enough distance between me and an object before we go. I'm absolutely confident in his abilities to guide me when running."

Plus, the pacing is consistent.

"In the New York City marathon, I had three guides and one needed to run slower, so we slowed down to help him through," Panek says. "I know Gus' pace, and I'm very independent."

How Running Guides can get blind people healthier

Obviously not everyone wants to run a marathon—and that's OK. Running Guides is about changing and challenging perceptions about vision loss and what blind people are able to do.

"The ability to exercise at any time, and being able to do it independently, encourages a person with vision loss to stay active," Panek says. "It really is an incredibly empowering experience for people. We graduate about a dozen people with their guide dogs each month. There was a boy in the audience, about 12 years old, whose parents came up to me and said, 'He never thought he could run, but after hearing about this program, once he turns 16, he's going to apply.'"

Panek sees the benefit of exercise on his health, as well as that impact on his wife and four kids. He's also seen how being inactive can be detrimental for those with vision loss. His own brother, Andrew, who was also blind, sadly passed away in the summer of 2017 from a heart attack. He wasn't very active, and he didn't have a guide dog.

Panek believes bringing guide dogs into blind people's lives can help mitigate the mental and physical side effects—depression, diabetes, and chronic illness—of being blind and sedentary.

"This gives blind people the ability to stay fit," Panek says. "No excuses, right?"

As for his goals for Running Guides' future? Pairing more dogs with humans is paramount.

[RELATED4]

"We give all these dogs at no cost to people who are blind, but it costs about $50,000 to breed, raise, train, and support the guide dog team throughout the lifetime of the partnership," Panek says. "I'd really like to get the word out that people can help others by donating to the program to help other people get a running guide dog."

Panek also hopes running guide dogs will be embraced by the running community.

"That was the main reason why we partnered with the New York Road Runners to have the kick-off race—the five-miler—with Gus: to show that these dogs are capable of running in a race environment safely," Panek says.

"We did that."

[RELATED5]

Running

Article source here:Men’s Fitness

0 notes

rodrigohyde · 6 years

Text

How the first running guide dogs are leading blind runners to newfound independence

But Panek's most emotional race finish was a casual five-miler through Central Park: the Poland Spring Marathon Kickoff. It was his first race without human assistance.

He still had a guide, of course: His yellow Labrador retriever, Gus.

[RELATED1]

"But when it comes to running with a guide dog, it's just you. You're telling the dog the direction to go and he's keeping you out of harm's way."

Running with Gus was made possible by Panek's passion project: Running Guides, the first program to train running guide dogs.

Barking up the right tree: How Panek launched Running Guides and what it takes for pups to graduate

[PQ]

"If they're confident and able to deal with distractions and noises, then they can go into the guide dog training program," Panek says.

[RELATED2]

Courtesy Image

[RELATED3]

At its core, Running Guides is about offering blind and visually impaired runners a greater degree of freedom.

Plus, the pacing is consistent.

"In the New York City marathon, I had three guides and one needed to run slower, so we slowed down to help him through," Panek says. "I know Gus' pace, and I'm very independent."

How Running Guides can get blind people healthier

Obviously not everyone wants to run a marathon—and that's OK. Running Guides is about changing and challenging perceptions about vision loss and what blind people are able to do.

Panek believes bringing guide dogs into blind people's lives can help mitigate the mental and physical side effects—depression, diabetes, and chronic illness—of being blind and sedentary.

"This gives blind people the ability to stay fit," Panek says. "No excuses, right?"

As for his goals for Running Guides' future? Pairing more dogs with humans is paramount.

[RELATED4]

Panek also hopes running guide dogs will be embraced by the running community.

"We did that."

[RELATED5]

Running

from Men's Fitness https://www.mensfitness.com/life/entertainment/how-first-running-guide-dogs-are-leading-blind-runners-newfound-independence

#Men's Fitness

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