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project-rebirth · 3 years

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Prologue: Look What I Found Under This Big Rock – OP.“Apocrypha”

She was dead. It was 3PM on December 25 and Shirai Kuroko, a 1st year middle school girl with chestnut twintails and wearing nothing but a purple negligee, lay collapsed and unmoving on her bed in a Tokiwadai Middle School student dorm. She was completely dead.

As dead as a jellyfish rotting on the beach.

“Onwee-shama…still hasn’t come home…”

Yes.

Her roommate Misaka Mikoto had yet to return after being sent to the hospital after the injuries she had received just a few days prior to the Violent Violet incident (Even though the injuries she sustained were relatively minor in comparison to some others who were caught up in it), but knowing her, the attractive Onee-sama was off enjoying herself elsewhere on Christmas and her cute underclassman had failed to board Noah’s Ark in time. She may have been sent to a deserted island all on her own. Shirai Kuroko had been tragically rejected. And it hurt all the more because she knew there was no ill will behind it.

She did not even have it in her to flail around in frustration. A monotone ringtone played from the phone she had left by her pillow, so she reached out with her face still down in the pillow and spoke in a deep, zombie-like voice.

“Uwehhhh? A joint manhunt with Anti-Skill?”

“They’re apparently planning a major arrest. And isn’t that kind of violence your favorite thing, Shirai-san? The adults are actually offering to let you run wild for once, so you should probably take them up on it.”

Judgment apparently had a lot of work piled up even on Christmas.

She briefly considered resorting to pretending she was in too much pain to get out of bed due to being on her purple period which would curse you unless you forgot it existed before you turned 20…but then she had a different idea.

Yes.

If there was going to be some major incident happening, wouldn’t Misaka Mikoto be more liable to show up?

She leaped out of bed, fixed her mussed-up hair, and hurriedly responded.

“Understood, Uiharu!! I will be there right away! Where is ‘there’, by the way!?”

Tokiwadai forced impeccable behavior on its students, so the dorms were strictly locked down around Christmas, but work for Judgment was an exception. This was Shirai Kuroko’s first Tokiwadai Christmas, but she managed to strut right past the dorm manager and out the supposedly impregnable front entrance in her winter uniform and a very long scarf.

“Now, then.”

She let out a breath and vanished into thin air.

She was a Level 4 Teleporter.

She could only teleport things a distance of 81.5m at once and she could only teleport a weight of 130.74kg at once, but by repeatedly teleporting herself, she could move at speeds greater than a racecar. All while circumventing the restrictions of the asphalt roads.

The safety of District 7 could vary a lot depending on the area, but she made her way to one of the less safe areas. There was decidedly unartistic graffiti spray painted on the walls and presumably stolen and abandoned bicycles were lying all around. There were no Christmas decorations in evidence.

A habit instilled in her by her job(?) took over and she photographed the registration sticker on the underside of the bike seats.

“Is this the place?” she asked over the phone.

“An Anti-Skill truck should be parked nearby, so go find them. I’m busy with my own work, so I unfortunately won’t be able to join you. …Eh? Oh, what is it? Ehhh!? You want me to turn all this into an automated processing flowchart today!?”

After some sounds of a struggle, the call ended.

(I guess I have to do this.)

Being out and about gave her more of a chance to run across her beloved Onee-sama, Misaka Mikoto, than lying dead on her dorm room bed. Especially when there was trouble afoot. Her motivation was impure as could be, but she hoped they would forgive her if she could restore order to the city while she was at it.

She knocked on the door of a large steel truck that looked like a windowless bus and the door opened from the inside.

It was larger than a van, but it actually felt cramped on the inside. Both walls were crammed full of industrial computers and the excess space was piled high with boxes of weapons and ammo. There were no ordinary lights, so the glow of monitors and heat of machines filled the limited space. This was apparently a logistics vehicle that handled data control and materiel provision more than transporting people.

(And this is only the backup. Does that mean they have more personnel deployed than would fit in one bus?)

She looked skeptical. Anti-Skill was the grownup organization that preserved order in Academy City. In terms of the world outside the city, they were similar to the police. She knew they were a highly organized group of volunteer teachers, but this appeared to be a largescale job even for them. Just think about it. How many police officers would be needed to chase down a single robber escaping through the streets? It would be unusual to find that not even 30 was enough.

“Excuse me, but you requested my presence here. I am Shirai Kuroko of Judgment. If this major arrest required calling me in, does it involve an esper?”

They were not as polite as a phone shop’s receptionist. First, her voice was absorbed by silence and a few sharp glances turned her way after a bit. “The customer is always right” did not apply with civil servants. Plus, Shirai was not actually a customer. Finally, a nearby woman, who appeared to be an operator, spoke up.

She curtly gestured further back in the truck with her chin.

“You’re working with her.”

That seemed awfully cold after Shirai had gone out of her way to name herself and express her enthusiasm for the job, but she accepted it since she had seen some girls in her class who tried and failed to play the tsundere like that. Then she looked over in the indicated direction.

Much to her surprise, the person that she was to work with did not look like your typical anti-skill officer based on the clothes they were wearing as well as the apparent age of the person.

She appeared to be a girl who looked around the age where she was in her last year of high school or starting her first year of university, though if she played her cards right, she looked like she could be any age. The girl had light purple hair, brown eyes and looked like she was wearing an old school uniform that surprisingly still fit her well. She was sitting at the table with a laptop, seemingly engrossed in whatever she was looking at.

“.....”

For some reason, Shirai was under the impression that she gave off the air of a NEET or some kind of shut in, And just when she had that though, the NEET girl turned her head towards Shirai.

“Hm? Oh, you’re that girl I’m working with.... Shiroko was it?”

“...Shirai Kuroko. I am from Judgement. You don’t look like you’re from Anti-Skill... who are you?”

“Ah, that’s right. I suppose I don’t seem like your common law enforcement officer do I? My name is Kihara Jikan. I’m a special researcher that’s been recruited by the Governing Board to help Anti-Skill with the large operation that’s taking place.”

Shirai raised an eyebrow. She was familiar with the name Kihara and how that family of scientists were responsible for all sorts of atrocities. The likes of Kihara Gensei and Therestina Kihara Lifeline comes to mind. But there was a chance that Jikan was not involved in anything like that,, so she had to refrain from judging her for now.

“So, what is this operation we are participating in? Are we finally arresting MINUS?”

“To be clear, you can’t let anyone know about this. Because we live in an age where people will do just about anything to get material for an online video or social media post. Unfortunately however, it’s not MINUS. You see, in recent times, dangerous individuals and organizations from the Outside have infiltrated Academy City. The governing board has finally had enough and decided to do something about it, hence why we’re both here. Welcome to Operation Apocrypha Shirai-san.”

Infiltrators from the outside? Shirai knew there were instances of people breaching Academy City’s security and entering, but she did not know it was on a scale like this, especially something that warranted the full resources of Anti-Skill and Judgement.

And based on Jikan’s tone, Shirai could tell that this was a situation that took precedence over MINUS, who had gone rather quiet after the District 19 incident.

“These invaders are not espers or anything we are used to dealing with. These people and organizations operate on laws and concepts that are completely out of our current understanding, but thanks to the OUTRANK list that we got from the anonymous source called The Guardian, we know who is in this city and what we can expect when we engage them.”

Jikan shifted her laptop so Shirai could see before moving from a tab that had some stuff regarding research into Multi-Universe Theory and Temporal Quantum Mechanics before moving to a tab that held a really long list of names of organizations and their members, as well as some other names who were not really affiliated with any particular organization.

Shirai looked at the names and gave it a read through. She had never heard of these people or groups before, however she was more astonished by the number of them listed. These people were really in Academy City?

“Hamanchi Eggoko, Lea Alecto, Rosimontis The Purger, The Wild Horse... are these people seriously in Academy City?”

“OUTRANK doesn’t lie I’m afraid. Those people are either already in Academy City, or is expected to come here. Lea Alecto and Rosimontis The Purger are big enough threats on their own, several members of an organization known as The X has been spotted in this city including the one named Shinpachi Oni, the Wild Horse. Oh, and the names you listed are all Harmfuls. They are the ones you should be careful of.”

“Harmfuls..?”

“Yes. You see, we have a category system that separates the very dangerous elements from the less dangerous elements. The names you went over are all in the Harmful category, while others have been placed into the Beneficial category. It’s to know who we need to use the proper amount of force against really.”

Academy City was under attack.

Many hostile individuals and organizations were in the city illegally and were most likely here for some nefarious purpose. Looking at the organization called The X, as well as some of the others, there was great concern to be had for the security and safety of the city and its residents,but there were a lot of it that seemed unbelievable, at least on paper.

But then there was a thought that came to Shirai, something that should be asked now.

“I do have a question. Why is it that these third parties are entering the city in the quantity that they have? Is this a coordinated effort between the groups, or is there something here that they are looking for?”

“It’s hard to say whether or not the groups are working together, but based on what we have gotten, they seem to be mostly operating on their own. As for the second point, we believe that they are after some kind of experimental device that I can’t get into, but it’s imperative that none of them get their hands on it. Academy City tech can’t fall into the hands of outsiders.”

“So, does that answer your questions for now? We are expected to apprehend Bazuko, one of the members of X soon so we can find out what the organization is really doing here as well as to give us the locations of the rest of their members, so I hope you are ready for some action, Shirai.”

This was a citywide sweep of forces from the Outside. Shirai had heard a few things about something called the Third Side or Cosmic Side being talked about on internet forums (the only reason she knows about it is because Saten Ruiko told her) but she could not give any clear definition of what the cosmic side was really supposed to be. It felt like a fictional thing spoken of only in rumors. Like a few separate incidents had appeared connected by coincidence, creating the illusion of something larger there. Yet it was all too ominous to just laugh it off in that way.

But this sounded exactly like something her Onee-sama would get involved in. If these Cosmic Siders or whatever was going to be causing problems on a scale like this, then it was only a matter of time before Mikoto threw herself into the fray. She was heavily involved in that last incident, so it was only natrual that she would appear somewhere down the line.

With that possibility filling her mind, Shirai Kuroko was ready to engage the enemy with more vigor than she normally would have.

“Then let’s do our best to stop the criminals that are infiltrating our city!”

Start: Operation_Apocrypha

@tetsuwan-atom @lawain-dimensional-heroes @xbloodsoakedx

#Toaru Majutsu no Index: Rebirth Testament (Main Verse)#Devoted Underclassman of Tokiwadai's Ace // Shirai Kuroko #Researcher of Temporal & Dimensional Mechanics // Kihara Jikan #Arc: Operation Apocrypha #Drabble

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meghanayar · 4 years

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The Lockdown Weight Loss Training Programme

The coronavirus lockdown has taught everyone different skills. Some have become culinary connoisseurs. Others, armchair philosophers. Quite a few people have bonded beautifully with family. Many others are dangerously close to murdering theirs. Essentially, most of us have morphed into cousins of who we were three months back.

Not me. I’m not one to go full Batman on a cosmically mandated vacation. In most matters, I remain as happily gauche as ever. For instance, I’m still a novice at chopping veggies. I think people who can peel karela* and shred cabbage deserve bravery awards, or at least a free Netflix subscription.

According to my mother, I am also an abject failure at the art of hanging laundry on the clothesline. I can never quite remember all her parameters – coloured ones in, whites out, heavy clothes in front, thin ones behind, trousers in corners, pockets hanging out, bedsheets in one balcony, office clothes in another – it is a science more complex than quantum physics, and I simply can’t seem to memorize its guiding principles.

What I am able to do perfectly though, is find opportunities for weight loss in the randomest of things. In that sense, my one big win during this lockdown has been discovering new ways to lose weight.

Most of these methods I wouldn’t normally have thought of, but then, twelve weeks of isolation do interesting things to the human brain. This post exists because I feel my wisdom is worth sharing with the world. We may have hit Unlock 1.0 here in India, but for all practical purposes, we are still under house arrest. In that sense, there is still plenty of scope for people to benefit from these life-altering realisations of mine.

Read on to learn how you can minimise your girth by maximising the lockdown.

1. Nobody needs a fancy gym membership if they can summon a little creativity. For instance, while doing the dishes, keep the utensil basket an arm’s length away. This way, each time you rinse a vessel and reach out for the basket, you will be giving yourself an extensive arm workout. Bonus: if the menfolk refuse to help with chores, you could lure them saying the vessel-basket game will help them grow biceps (and if you’re a man reading this, don’t be an asshole – do your bit).

2. Want a perfectly trim tummy? Keep your laundry basket on the floor, bend down to pick each garment, and do a high jump when you land the garment on the clothesline. Bend, pick, aim, hop, repeat. Do this for twelve weeks and you will have Barbie’s waistline. Heck, you may even add an inch or two in height.

3. Pretend you are the Chairman of your housing society and that the idiot residents of the building will die without your scrutiny. Pace up and down the corridor of your floor for twenty minutes every day, while looking left and right, up and down in turns. Then repeat this exercise on the floor above, the floor below, and all the other floors of the building. In three months’ time, you will lose 20 kilos, your triple chin, and the motivation to donate your hard-earned money at the gym.

4. Take charge of sweeping and mopping your house. If your family comprises as many women as mine, you are blessed. Your floor is likely to be covered with assorted hair strands – long, short, black, white, thick as wire, thin as my patience, and so on. If you try to sweep those pesky things off the floor, they will invariably get entangled with your broom, or worse, choke up your vacuum cleaner. Instead, bend down and scoop them up yourself, tying them up into neat little balls that you can gleefully toss out of the window into the bin. Then, throw your fancy new mop-with-a-handle away and pick up the traditional pochha** instead, going down on all fours à la Sakubai. Voila! In twelve weeks, you will grunt and groan your way to a Kardashian-style bum, minus any surgical intervention.

5. Most people turn to dumbbells and treadmills to lose weight, without realising that the most potent instrument of weight loss is, in fact, miniature humans. If you have children of your own, you already know this. But if not, I recommend this fool-proof exercise regime known as the Borrow-A-Kid method. If you don’t know whose kid to borrow, just put up a solicitation on Facebook. At least a dozen exasperated friends will rush to deposit the fruit of their loins at your doorstep. Once their children are yours to chase around, you will lose weight faster than Trump lost his conscience.

6. If you’re a teacher, motivational speaker, or just generally an Indian uncle, this must be a tough time for you. Considering that your life essentially revolves around giving advice, it must suck to have no one to enlighten. Well, this can be managed: just be your family’s official volunteer for grocery rounds. You will encounter quite a few people (the grocer, neighbours, security guards) en route, who might benefit from a sermon on how to safeguard against the virus. Not only will you get to disseminate gyaan like a guru, you will also burn your fair share of calories walking to the store and back. Two birds with one trip! Keep ‘em masks and gloves handy though, because the virus might be waiting to pounce on you.

7. If all else fails, pretend it’s Diwali. Replace the newspaper lining your cupboards. Clean the fans and tubelights. Air out the mattresses and rugs. Pull out your mum’s fancy crockery set – the one that belonged to her great-grand-mother and hasn’t been used in thirty years – and wipe each piece down with a muslin cloth. Toss your old soft toys into the washing machine. Round up all the sneakers that exist in the house, and clean one pair a day. If you’re a South Indian like me, you’re sure to have an ornate oil lamp made of brass. Those things get dull over time. Spend an hour looking at Buzzfeed videos on how to restore their glory, then pick up some ketchup / lemons / baking soda / whatever floats your boat, and get scrubbing. And if ALL of this doesn’t wear you out, ask the neighbours how you can be of help.

Come to think of it, the exodus of domestic help this lockdown, coupled with a total lack of things to do and the absence of Zomato, makes for the greatest Get-In-Shape moment in the history of modern civilisation. This is your chance – to prove yourself the ultimate domestic God(dess) while also growing the ultimate hot bod. Imagine the ‘Before’ and ‘After’ photo collage you’ll get to post on Instagram after all this is over. Heck, imagine the looks and hoots you’ll get when you walk out into the world 20 kilos leaner. Sounds delicious, eh?

Get going then. There is still enough time to join the revolution. *karela: An Indian vegetable, also referred to as bitter gourd

**pochha: A traditional mop used in India. You have to go down on your haunches to scrub the floor with this one.

#coronavirus #covid19 #lockdown #pandemic #covid_19 #weight #weightloss #exercise #fitness #wellness #get in shape #humour #funny #daily chores #chores #housework

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redwoodrroad · 5 years

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more fun oc stuff, featuring eridunis and his dad!

as well as sleepy mumblings about logan thackeray and little thoughts about his life and what he's about. it's all under the cut, and i kept out major plot things--there are a couple of major like life-altering things in heart of thorns and path of fire, so i'll vaguely reference them, and if you've played those campaigns, you'll know what im talking about, and if you haven't played it, i'll never tell ;)

youu aare my daaad--you're my dad! boogie woogie woogie!

alright so starting from when eridunis started growing up in the orphanage, logan's brother, Dylan, was the captain of the seraph, right, it's canon that he's been captain of the seraph since logan was a Youth; eridunis has most of his interactions with dylan throughout his younger life. this is kind of where..... im not quite sure about the full extent of logan's and dylan's contempt for each other? we know that dylan sees logan as.... sort of childish, dishonorable--especially since logan becomes a mercenary as a young adult (we're also not completely sure how old these guys are, so bear with me, i have thoughts about that)--and logan doesn't really have any respect for dylan either because he thinks being a queen's guard is like. snobbish? that's a pretty easy way to put it. and it feels like the age difference is really rough--if logan is a kid by the time dylan becomes a seraph, and even if we assume that dylan was reasonably young when he became a seraph--let's say 18-20, pretty standard--logan was probably somewhere around 10-12 years old, "young boy" age as he's described on the wiki. so 8-10 years is really tough on sibling dynamics, and we can't even be sure how these guys were raised because we also dont know a dang thing about their parents but it’s fine

with that in mind..... i still wanna give them the benefit of the doubt and say that once logan becomes a mercenary, they have the type of relationship where they still talk, and maybe logan comes back to divinitys reach and pays him a visit if only for sake of Trying to be like a family. they're still (human) BROTHERS, you know; if nothing else, they were probably raised to be social with each other SO i imagine that logan comes back sometimes and walks around with dylan and they idly argue about their morals

dylan, of course, keeps an eye on the salma district because these fun little orphan kids mess around and pull pranks on rich assholes who dont seem to have any patience for kids with no parents. eridunis is among those funny kids, and once he's maybe around 7-8, he starts running around the salma district and causing problems along with quinn and later riot alice (like in their teenage years more-so), and he's one that dylan really keeps a Close eye on. dylan tells logan about his issues with some of the young kids at the orphanage, and logan probably tells him off about it, like "you should care more about why those kids are acting out; you just see them as delinquents" etc; and ok back on track, eridunis meets logan when dylan takes logan to the orphanage one time, and eridunis is Obviously among the youngest there--even quinn and alice are at least a year older than him, and he's also pretty small, and he has that big mop of red curly hair, and logan is like "oh..... this kid does not deserve this life, none of them do"

so when logan comes back more often, he probably spends more time getting to know the orphans than he spends time with dylan, and they're both sort of okay with that. ofc logan has that moment of family panic when he's called back to defend jennah, and dylan dies, and he takes his place as seraph captain. so this is 1320 AE at this point: eridunis is 15, and i sort of like to imagine that logan at least fifteen years older than him, so i feel like it's pretty accurate to say he's about 30 by then.

alright this is getting friggen long enough, and i havent even really gotten to eridunis yet--eridunis really gets to know logan in those five years, and logan realizes that his earlier feelings of heartwrench for the kid may. have been misplaced. because this kid is annoying and doesnt seem to be taking logan or any seraph seriously, but logan also doesnt want to ?? arrest him??? he's a KID; he'd rather let eridunis get away with petty, silly crimes that really only disturb the peace more than anything else, because eridunis is honest enough to give logan any money he's stolen (if he's caught), it's just that he's not. learning from it lol eridunis.... around that time.... starts fooling around with quinn (and later, alice, experimentally) a little, and uh. it's not great? it's really just kids experimenting, but let me just say that he really regrets doing those very adult things so young--he's glad, at least, that he did them with people he trusts; he would have a lot more regret if he was sleeping around at that age. im sure logan catches eridunis getting frisky with quinn in an alley around 16 / 17, and he sits eridunis down in his office and is like "look, i know it's not completely appropriate for me to give you this kind of talk, im not your father, but everyone deserves to have a talk like this" and eridunis is like

"oh no"

so logan tells him all about how he matters and he wants eridunis to make good choices, all that good stuff; eridunis is >:( but he also sort of appreciates it.... he appreciates it more later, when he's older, and it's probably what holds him back from going all out as a horny youth.

i think he and logan bond more over stories logan tells about his mercenary work, and he tells eridunis about destiny's edge--albeit with some remorse, details held back, for the loss of glint and snaff and also the respect of his companions. eridunis is totally starting to look up to logan by this point, so he's like "screw all of them!! you did what you had to do!!" and logan is like "woah i mean i appreciate that, but.... eh you're probably right, rytlock was being real nasty to me so forget him" and eridunis is like "yeah, fuck him!!" and logan is like "NO--language, eridunis!"

once eridunis hits 20, we come to the personal story--eridunis is still incredibly young, but he's honing his necromancy skills (skills he started messing with when he was much younger, but he's never had a real weapon until now), and he becomes !! the hero of shaemoor! but of course he fucks up again, and this is also where i drift away from the canon a little, because i imagine that he doesn't talk to logan immediately, he goes back to the salma district to chill out, you know, steal some wallets--and he's immediately caught by the seraph Again, and this time, like i said in the other post i made about this, logan is like "i can either arrest you and put you in jail because ministers are mad, OR you can help me out with gang violence, and i can try to give you a job with the seraph."

and then we move through the personal story, and at each turn, eridunis is updating logan and excitedly telling him about his adventures. eridunis also takes plenty of opportunities to complain to logan about his new traveling partner, this agonizing magister who's snobbish and self concerned and maybe just a Little pretty--needless to say, eridunis comes back to logan's office all bashful like "youll never believe this.... i have a boyfriend. and it's arkus" and logan is instantly like "YOU CAME TO ME EVERY CHANCE YOU COULD GET TO COMPLAIN ABOUT THIS PERSON, AND NOW YOURE JUST HEAD OVER HEELS HUH" and eridunis yells back "YEAH WELL IM WEAK AND SHUT UP" but it’s all good haha

ofc eridunis helps logan fix his relationship with rytlock and the other destinys edge people, and theres just a lot of very positive father-son type things in general

and once we hit... heart of thorns......... eridunis is so worried about logan, and it adds a Lot onto his stress among.... other things. which i'll save for another post. anyway, by the time he sees logan again, logan is injured, and eridunis's fear for logan's life isn't really getting any better, but as he heals through season 3, eridunis is visiting him, writing to him, and he's so relieved when logan does heal up just fine.

once we hit path of fire, the opposite happens, and logan has a terrifying moment where he has to imagine a world without someone he really truly sees as his son, and i just imagine logan collapsing at his desk, and when taimi or canach likely contact him again with the news, he's so relieved that he just. breaks down. it’s a bad time, but it could have been way worse forever. eridunis takes some time to heal himself, and logan visits him a couple times, so thankful that he's okay

last thing i wanna say is with respect to the most recent chapter, all or nothing--eridunis is incredibly distraught as a result, and there's a moment where eridunis has to just hide from everyone in his tent, and arkus tries to take care of him, but eridunis eventually asks him to get logan, he just needs extra support from the only parental figure he's ever had. so arkus brings logan to the tent, and eridunis just..... leans against logan for a long time, cries a lot, arkus rubs his back and all that, and eventually, once eridunis calms down, logan gets to tell eridunis how much he cares about him, how he sees eridunis as a son, how he's always had an incredible amount of respect for eridunis, and okay it's very sweet but it's really making eridunis want to cry AGAIN because he sort of feels like he doesn't even deserve that respect for the mistakes he's made, but that's just how it be on this bitch of an earth, eridunis! you have a dad now, and he loves you! it means a lot for eridunis, who soon passes out and leaves arkus to chat with logan about how cool it was for logan to say all that, knowing eridunis looks up to him, and they take a moment to reminisce as father-in-law and gnc-son-in-law about the adventures so far

that's about all i have! i might go into more detail about specific moments within chapters, but this is long enough and i wanted to get it out there because im proud of the thought ive put into these boys already. i hope you enjoyed!

bonus pics!

#it's really long under the cut but im glad i could get a mostly-cohesive outline of their dynamic #guild wars 2 #logan thackeray #pact commander #just a cool adopted dad and his cool adopted son #redwoods words #eridunis tag

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khavvah · 7 years

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Pokemon Sun/Moon Fic - Beasts And Beauties, Ch. 1

Link to source: Chapter 1

Hi there! I’m Khavvah (dietofwurms on AO3). I’m not sure if anyone is going to end up reading this from here, but it’s gotten some positive attention over at AO3, and it seems people are enjoying it, so I’ve decided to start posting chapters on Tumblr. I may end up writing extended author’s notes or something?? Or replying to questions?? No idea. We’ll see what happens, shall we?

THOSE NOT IN THE KNOW: This is an angst/drama fic, a plot divergence focusing on Guzma and decisions he makes in Ultra Space.

Chapter 1: Ferals

It was a bright and windy day, that early morning after Po Town fell.

Once news had gotten out, accompanied by the plethora of pictures, video, and frantic phone calls from citizens, all of which splashed across the news, it became clear to the Alolans that something must be done. The police force, which had been supported for years and seemed to have been able to handle the regular outbursts of Team Skull mischief, crumpled entirely within hours--one small cabal of thugs rolled into the Po Town station, and the chief and all his officers scattered like roaches, eventually retreating to more amenable grounds on the east coast of Ula'Ula island.

"Pathetic," Hala grumbled.

Olivia nodded in agreement, skimming over the headline. "They've gotten soft. But it's not just their fault, is it?"

Hala scratched his beard and examined her expression carefully, and though he didn't outwardly express his opinion, one could tell he knew what she meant. A thoughtful grumble came from his throat. "Well, here we are." He looked out over the room, catching the attention of the other captains. "Is everyone here? Who are we missing?"

The kahunas and assorted captains sat in a scattered arrangement of chairs, a sofa dragged in from another room, and one footstool (which Olivia planted herself on, in order to be closest to Hala). They had all gathered on short notice at Hala's home on Mele'Mele--Ilima, Lana, Mallow, Kiawe, Sophocles, Acerola. They knew Mina, the waifish artist, wouldn't be making the meeting--her head was still in the clouds somewhere in Poni Island valley. The figures nervously looked around, measuring one another, and finally Mallow spoke up. "Is Hapu coming? I thought she was standing in for Lopaku--"

"No," Acerola said. "I just talked to Hapu--her grandmommy's sick."

Hala frowned and made another deep, rumbling noise that implied deep thought. "That is unfortunate… And hardly a good omen." As he said this, another thought occurred to him; he searched about. "Where's Nanu?"

"Uncle Nanu's on his way," Acerola mewled. "I woke him up myself; he'll be here, promise!"

Knowing he'd be late caused a wave of unhappiness among them; Kiawe was brave enough to verbalize his impatience. "He'd better hurry up! He's the one with the most to answer for!"

Mallow, sitting close by, swatted at his shoulder. "It's not his fault!"

"Well, he's supposed to protect Ula'Ula, isn't he?"

"It's my job too," Acerola pointed out.

"...And mine," Sophocles mumbled, barely audibly.

"He had a sacred duty, is all that I mean. He should accept responsibility."

...And as if summoned by their argument, the door rattled loudly and opened to reveal Kahuna Nanu.

They stared. He looked like had just rolled out of bed, with his breakfast in hand: a mug of coffee and the nub of his morning cigarette. He returned their looks with a bleary gaze and a muffled, "'Morning, kids."

Acerola squealed, "Morning, Uncle Nanu!"

He winced at the high-pitched voice, planting a hand over one of his ears. "Girl, have some mercy, will ya? It's early, and it's the weekend… Criminy--"

"We're glad you could make it," Hala announced. He just barely disguised his irritation. "But please put that outside."

"Put what--" He looked into his hand, and remembered the burning cigarette. "Oh, gotcha. One sec, kids."

While Kahuna Nanu staggered out onto the doorstep to stamp it out, the rest of them sat silently, holding their breaths for the start of the troubling meeting. It was his island, after all, where this had all happened: they knew emotions would be running high. Nanu didn't show any sign of tension, however--he came back inside, slowly dragged a chair from the wall and into the circle, and collapsed into it with a heave. He spilled a bit of coffee on himself in the process, so he casually wiped his jacket down with his free hand, then realized everyone was gaping at him. He crossed his legs and grunted irritably.

"Well, Hala," Nanu droned, "seeing as you're in the big chair, how about you start us off?"

"How about you start by explaining how this all happened?" Kiawe demanded.

Everyone held their breath; Nanu slowly turned to him, his eyes burning with a powerful disdain, and growled, "Simmer down, kiddo. Wasn't talking to you anyway."

Kiawe frothed and sprang onto his feet. "'Kiddo'?"

"Hala!" Nanu snarled, "Get your house in order, or I will!"

"We could say the same to you!" Kiawe taunted, though by then Hala motioned for him to quiet himself, and Mallow had yanked him back into his seat, scolding him.

As the outbursts settled into silence again, Nanu gazed around himself, seeing their tense faces. He made a deduction and snickered dryly. "Well, isn't this fun. Guess I got picked as the scapegoat before I even got here."

"It was your officers who folded," Hala reminded him.

But Nanu gave him a withering glare. "I'm retired, Hala, and you know it. Those fresh-faced babies they put in that station were doomed with or without me. 'Sides, if you're gonna point fingers, start with yourself."

"I beg your pardon?"

"That boy… Who's taken over Team Skull. One of yours, wasn't he?" With that comment, he grinned cruelly. "What a shining example of your tutelage, eh?"

Just when Hala was about to leap to his own defense, their squabble was interrupted.

"Stop!" Olivia jumped to her feet, barking her admonishment at the two of them. "Is this what you came to do? Take potshots at each other like a couple of children?"

"Hrrngh." Nanu scratched the back of his neck and turned away. Hala, too, quieted.

"There's probably plenty of blame to go around," she continued. "But this meeting is for discussing a plan of action." Seeing she had everyone's silent attention, she decided to make the first proposal. "The most obvious thing to do, of course, is fight back."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nanu lean back and roll his eyes. She chose to ignore it.

"Suffice to say, if we kahunas and captains combine our pokemon, we should be able to drive them out of the town and return things to normal. I know the Alolas haven't seen an operation like this in a long time--but these are mostly kids, and their advantage is in numbers, not strength."

Kiawe crowed. "I agree! If they think they're so tough--let's show them what we're made of!"

"But that sounds… A lot like a war," Mallow said.

Her discomfort was evidently shared with Lana, who asked, "Can't Tapu Bulu do something? Isn't he the island's guardian?"

Suddenly, Nanu guffawed with a loud, hoarse laugh. "The two ladies are on the money." He turned to sneer in Mallow and Lana's direction. "It sounds like a war, huh? Sweetie, that would be 'cause they're starting one. As for the Tapu--trade secret, so listen close--they don't give a rattata's tail about human affairs."

Ilima, not one to allow unchecked cynicism, cut in. "Have you actually tried contacting Tapu Bulu?"

"No, matter of fact, I haven't," Nanu said. "Bulu likes to be left to himself. I can sympathize."

Olivia decided to speak again. "Nanu, I'm sensing you don't like this plan."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "You think so? Heh."

"Please, Nanu," Ilima said, "give us your thoughts."

"All right, all right. You wanna know what I think? It think it's a crappy idea. Let's imagine this, now. You all get together, gather your forces an' all, and invade. You go an start a war with these kids. You'd probably win, but then what? Where are these kids gonna go? Run 'em out of one town, and they'll move onto the next--they trash the new place, we chase 'em down, run 'em out again--and they keep goin'. Soon we've got a mess of ruined towns all over the islands. Unless we arrest the whole lot--or hey, it'll be war, so what's a couple casualties?"

If the discomfort was mild before, it was excruciating now. The young captains fidgeted in their seats, and the other kahunas cast their eyes on the floor and the walls.

"You're right about one thing. They're just kids. Rambunctious and obnoxious, yeah, and they've done their share of property damage, but you overblow this, and it'll be blood on your hands."

Olivia didn't like the direction this had gone--she crossed her arms. "Then what should we do?"

"How about stay out of it ? It's my island. My responsibility. I don't want any of you goodnicks sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

"You mind telling us what you plan to do, then?" Hala asked.

They expected Nanu to blow off this request, but to their surprise, he sighed with cool introspection, sucked a deep sip from his by-now cold coffee, and started to explain. "We've got lots of feral Meowth on our island. I've got lots of free time, you know, being a retired cop--so I've learned a lot, about how to deal with 'em. Here's the thing. They could be the nastiest, spitting creatures you ever seen. Won't let you touch 'em, or hardly look at 'em. But if you take 'em, and bring 'em inside, and make 'em live with you--sure, they scrap with each other, they tear up your furniture, make messes on the floor--but after a while, they get used to you. A couple months of that, and even the most vicious ones curl up in your lap."

"...And what does that mean?"

"Contain them. Let them have Po Town. I'll move in, somehow. Chaperone, do what I can. Shoot, maybe I can work with 'em."

Olivia scoffed. "You want to babysit a bunch of thugs?"

"That's more or less my plan, yeah. Ain't like I got much else to do with my time." He slurped at his coffee again, giving the others time to process his idea. "Welp, that's all I have to say, really." He promptly got up, pushed his chair back, and started for the door.

"Where are you going?" Hala demanded. "We haven't voted on our final decision!"

"Go ahead and vote. I'm not changing my mind. Just know, if you invade my island without my permission? You'll come to regret it."

"Is that a threat?"

Nanu just shrugged and scratched the inside of his ear. "A good faith warning. See ya 'round, kids. For better or for worse."

In the end, Nanu didn't wait to hear their decision. It was that afternoon that he trudged his way up the long path toward Po Town, cutting past the meadow and lifting his coat collar against the cold wind. The way the mountain leaned against this valley pushed stormclouds there almost perpetually, causing torrents of rain to dump over the grassy plain. The ground had an uncomfortable, swampy feel that squished with mud as he trekked it, but thankfully, soon enough, he saw the police station brightly lit in the dark.

Though he could hear music thumping away from inside, he paused a while to take the picture in. A police cruiser, its windshield and windows all bashed in, sat dejected nearby. Neon paint smeared the exterior of the building in gaudy symbols and slang, and some of the interior furniture, probably pushed through a broken window, soaked up the rain. What a mess . After a minute or so passed, one grunt opened the front door, and the sound of loud laughter, rap music, and broken glass all rolled out into the night. The grunt said something to the others--but Nanu couldn't understand it, not from this far away.

In the brief moments before he walked up to the grunt and talked to them, he thought on those children--and pictured them, as he remembered them, running stupidly about with their shiny baubles and dreams. These children all wanted to be someone, once, hadn't they? The cream of the crop had since floated to the top of the hierarchy, becoming captains and champions, but what of these? These lumps in the flour, this chaff from the wheat--dreamers with no dreams left, who had every ambition swallowed by mediocrity and the chokehold of tradition…

I get it, he mused. The world's spit on them, and they're spitting back.

Those thoughts made him hate being a kahuna all over again.

"Hey!" The grunt called out at him. "Hey, you! Who's there?"

So then, it was too late to surprise them. Nanu pushed his way forward, doing his best to stay in the light.

"A cop?" The grunt took notice of his outfit immediately and yelled into the station. "Yo, a cop's here, fam!"

"What?"

"Where!"

"Get 'im!"

Hilariously, they practically fell over each other to crowd through the doorway and give him nasty, unwelcoming looks. A girl in blue pig-tails approached him first, puffing out her chest to look tougher than her small stature implied. He didn't realize it until she got close, but she waved a small knife around to back her posturing. "Back off, copper! Didn't we chase yo' butts outta here?"

He didn't flinch or move back. "Not me, blue. Doesn't matter, though. Not here to fight you. Need to have a chat with your boss."

"Big G? Yeah, right, old man. You ain't gonna talkin' to nobody, not after I'm done with you." The knife in her hand swayed, swayed back and forth, like a serpent waiting to strike.

He heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Blue. I've had a long day. Don't wanna have to man-handle a little thing like you. Now put the knife down, and--"

The blade interrupted him with a silvery, whispering sound as it swiped toward his chest. He easily dodged--she was bold, but unskilled--and when she clumsily toppled over herself, he swooped in, grabbed her wrist, and let her fall the rest of the way to ground.

He had her arm straight up in the air, and twisted it painfully against his knee. She started screaming in pain.

"Hey!"

"Let her go!"

He felt an empty soda can launch against his head; he ignored it and prayed they wouldn't throw anything more damaging. "I can break your arm like this, blue. A little pull this way--" He demonstrated; she shrieked again. "Drop the knife."

"Stop!"

"Leave her alone, copper!"

They closed in around him like hyenas, but didn't dare physically intervene. The girl was moaning, writhing, and begging in the mud. The rain drenched them both for some long seconds until finally, her grip loosened, and the knife dropped.

He stepped on it and let go of her. A swirl of curses, threats, and taunts started around him, but even as she got up and limped back to the group, none of them followed through. Mobbing Murkrow. All noise .

"I said it before, and seeing as you all have only a couple brain cells between you, I'll say it again: I don't want to fight. I want to see your boss. Now."

It's hard, Nanu decided, to sum up a relationship with a town. They at first distrusted him, granting him cheap rent for use of the police station only because they needed the easy cash flow. They called him "cop" and "old man" and "geezer." But from then on, the picture gets fuzzy: within months, his name became a polite "Mr. Nanu," or "Officer Nanu," and within even more time, the grunts favored the warmth of "Uncle," as in, "'Morning, Uncle Nanu!" and "Hey Uncle, how are the Meowth today?" (because old habits die hard, and the empty space in the station could do nothing else but fill up with ferals).

He couldn't decide if all meant something. He didn't know what difference he had made in that year. Sometimes it felt like he could save them, bond with them--bring over some malasadas, swap stories, sit patiently through their ungodly freestyle sessions. Plumeria proved more amenable than the boy, but even Guzma, especially after a drink or two, came to crave his paternal doting. (And after too many drinks, Guzma would let it slip, slurring and whiny, "Da-a-ad, I know--").

But other days, it all fell right back to the spitting, hitting, and biting--thrown beer bottles and threats to cut him open like a fish. He comes home, it's covered in graffiti, and he just doesn't know.

Still, it wasn't the worst life he had chosen for himself. The rent was cheap. No day was boring. And he didn't need to have a roommate, which meant every night, he was greeted the same way--the mewls and purrs of his loyal clan. Meowth, at least--he mused as he scratched their ears and murmured sweet-talk--don't care who you are, or whether you've failed, or whether you're very interesting.

He could live like this forever.

#pokemon sumo #guzma #nanu #kahuna nanu #pokemon #fanfic #fanfiction #lusamine #team skull #plumeria #fan fiction #pokemon sun and moon

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jenniferfaye34 · 4 years

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#Giveaway + Excerpt ~ Murder at the Million Dollar Pier (A Three Snowbirds Mystery) by Gwen Mayo & Sarah E. Glenn... #books #CozyMystery #readers

Murder at the Million Dollar Pier (Three Snowbirds) by Gwen Mayo & Sarah E. Glenn

About Murder at the Million Dollar Pier

Murder at the Million Dollar Pier (Three Snowbirds) Historical Cozy Mystery 2nd in Series Publisher: Mystery and Horror, LLC (September 26, 2019) Paperback: 260 pages ISBN-10: 1949281078 ISBN-13: 978-1949281071 Digital ASIN: B07WMN9V79

"Never waste good rum on a bad night." - Teddy Lawless, February 1926.

There are many bad nights ahead for Teddy. Shortly after she arrives at the newly opened Vinoy Hotel in Saint Petersburg, she comes face to face with her ex-fiancé, Ansel Stevens, in the dining room. Cue the slap that was thirty years in the making. Unfortunately, her ex-fiancé dies during a yacht race shortly thereafter. Conclusion of the authorities: poison. His family closes ranks, leaving Teddy as the prime suspect. Worse, Teddy's hair comb is found on the deck of Ansel's boat, leading to her swift arrest.

Can Cornelia Pettijohn and Uncle Percival save fun-loving Teddy before she goes from the grand hotel to the big house?

EXCERPT: Murder at the Million Dollar Pier: The book is set in Saint Petersburg in 1926. The main characters are Cornelia Pettijohn, her very close companion Teddy Lawless, and Professor Percival Pettijohn, Cornelia’s elderly uncle. Teddy is suspected of murdering Ansel Stevens, her ex-fiancé from thirty years before. When the trio returned to their room, they discovered Detective Knaggs and Sergeant Duncan leaning against the wall outside their hotel room, waiting for them. Knaggs straightened and stuck his notebook back into his jacket. “We need to have a word with you three again. Something needs clearing up.” “Of course,” Uncle Percival said, unlocking the door. Cornelia had another bad feeling in the stomach. The pair of officers didn’t sit down, and the one had his notebook out again. Her uncle didn’t sit, either. His hearing device was in his ear and his face had the calm expression he wore when he was in the middle of tricky negotiations. “You said you needed clarification, gentlemen. How may I assist you?” “Professor Pettijohn, we have made inquiries since our last visit,” Knaggs said. Duncan broke in. “And you want to know what we found out? She ain’t your niece.” He jerked a thumb towards Teddy. “You’re not related to her at all.” Knaggs made a quieting gesture at Duncan. “Why would you say she was your niece, when she’s not? She came from Colorado with your real niece, so why didn’t you just say she was a friend of your niece? More importantly, why are you paying for her to stay in this hotel?” Cornelia held her breath. Teddy had no good reason for being with them outside of friendship. What Knaggs was implying was scandalous, but the truth was illegal. The professor didn’t blink. “Really gentlemen, you look like men of the world.” He walked over to Teddy and put a protective arm around her shoulders. “I’m sure I can rely on your discretion. I claimed she was my niece to avoid gossip. You see, gentlemen, Miss Lawless and I are engaged to be married.” Shock forced Cornelia into a seat. She listened, speechless, as her uncle continued. “I realize that Theodora is perhaps twenty years younger than me, which would make us subject to talk. We wanted to avoid that while we shopped for a honeymoon cottage and made all the necessary arrangements.” Twenty? More like thirty or thirty-five, Cornelia thought. “If you have done a thorough checking, you will discover that she and I have been looking at rentals to live in whilst we search for our cottage in Paradise. I assure you that she has been staying with my niece, her maid of honor, in the other side of the suite to avoid the appearance of impropriety before the ceremony.” Teddy, teary-eyed, took the professor’s arm. “Oh, sweet Percival, I’m so sorry. I told you we should have eloped.” He patted her hand fondly. “Nonsense, my dear. You deserve a proper wedding with all the trimmings. Before you came along, I took for granted I would die a bachelor. You have made an old man very happy.” All the color had drained from Cornelia’s face. She clung to the arms of the chair and did her best not to gape. Insane, both of them.

About Gwen Mayo

Gwen Mayo is passionate about blending the colorful history of her native Kentucky with her love for mystery fiction. She currently lives and writes in Safety Harbor, Florida, but grew up in a large Irish family in the hills of Eastern Kentucky.

Her stories have appeared in anthologies, at online short fiction sites, and in micro-fiction collections. She belongs to Sisters in Crime, SinC Guppies, the Short Mystery Fiction Society, and the Independent Book Publishers Association.

Gwen attended the University of Kentucky on a poetry scholarship but has an associate degree in business and a bachelor's degree in political science. Interesting side note: Gwen was a brakeman and railroad engineer from 1983 - 1987.

About Sarah E. Glenn

Sarah E. Glenn loves mystery and horror stories, often with a sidecar of humor. Several have appeared in mystery and paranormal anthologies, including G.W. Thomas’ Ghostbreakers series, Futures Mysterious Anthology Magazine, and Fish Tales: The Guppy Anthology. She belongs to Sisters in Crime, SinC Guppies, and the Short Mystery Fiction Society.

Her great-great aunt served as a nurse in WWI, and was injured by poison gas during the fighting. After being mustered out, she traveled widely. A hundred years later, 'Aunt Dess' would inspire Sarah to write stories she would likely not have approved of.

Author Links Gwen's Blog - http://www.gwenmayo.com/three-snowbirds.html Gwen's Website - http://www.gwenmayo.com/ Sarah's Website - http://www.sarahglenn.com/ Sarah Twitter - https://twitter.com/SarahEGlenn

Purchase Links - Amazon Paperback - Amazon Kindle - B&N

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#Murder at the Million Dollar Pier #A Three Snowbirds Mystery #Gwen Mayo #Sarah E. Glenn #cozy mystery #Great Escapes Book Tours #Hearts & Scribbles

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medicalmarijuana-news · 7 years

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Radical Rant: My Testimony on Protecting Cannabis Users’ Employment Rights

Today, the Oregon Senate’s Committee on Judiciary is hearing testimony on Senate Bill 301, which would protect users of any legal substance in the state from discrimination in the workplace. Following is written testimony I submitted to the committee chair, Senator Floyd Prozanski.

Thank you for accepting my testimony on SB 301. To me, this is the most important bill that has come through the Oregon Legislature since I moved here in 2003.

I am originally a resident of Idaho. I am also a lifelong cannabis consumer. I deserve the same freedom from employment discrimination as any adult who drinks beer or smokes cigarettes, period.

Throughout my life, I have worked mainly as a contractor, performing temporary jobs in the field of information technology. I’ve worked desktop support, database programming, network analysis, website design and technical training jobs for companies from Wall Street to Silicon Valley and everywhere in between. My strong work ethic, skill mastery and keen intelligence kept me working steadily for 15 years, always receiving top marks in my employee reviews.

As a cannabis consumer, however, I remained a contractor, because most temporary IT placement companies did not require a test of my urine to determine if I was smart enough to run a computer. I voluntarily remained without health care coverage or a salary commensurate with my abilities to maintain my freedom to consume cannabis rather than alcohol.

In 2001, I married a woman in Boise. She suffered from chronic pain conditions. Through me, she discovered that cannabis relieved her pain better than the plethora of pills she had been taking. By 2003, we decided to move to Oregon to get her on the medical marijuana program. Not only would she be safe from arrest for her cannabis use; as her caregiver, my possession of marijuana would be protected, too.

But not for employment purposes.

As you know, the Emerald Steel case decided that medical marijuana patients have no exemption from workplace discrimination for their marijuana use. My wife worked around that problem by using her health care coverage to secure a prescription for Marinol, the synthetic THC pill that is FDA-approved by prescription and indistinguishable from natural cannabis on most workplace drug screens. In Oregon, as all states, having a Marinol prescription is an automatic drug test pass for pot smokers; my wife never took a single pill. (By the way, I know many people across the country who do this.)

I had no such coverage or medical condition that would qualify for a Marinol prescription, so I continued to work underpaid temporary contract jobs that didn’t drug test.

Then in 2005, I began working on contract for a medical device manufacturer then located in Beaverton. I excelled at my job, and the company always gave my work rave reviews. I was so beloved that when the contract ended, the company offered to bring me on as a full-time employee. My salary would almost triple, I’d get stellar health care and retirement benefits, even a company expense account for the travel I’d be undertaking.

But first, I’d have to pass a drug test.

No problem, I thought. I’m married now and need to get serious and build a career, I reasoned. I quit using cannabis and began drinking fluids and exercising in the hopes that I’d flush enough metabolites out of my system to pass the standard urine test to land the job I’d already been doing successfully for two years.

The day of the test, I asked my human resources office where to go for my pee test. That’s when I learned that the test wasn’t for urine, it was for hair. I grinned at the HR staff and rubbed my nearly-bald head and remarked, “that’s going to be a bit difficult, eh?” She deadpanned in response that they would find some hair for a sample.

Find some hair? Like, um, where?

I decided not to ask and just went to the appointment. There, I was met by a woman in nondescript clothing—no scrubs or medical wear—in an ersatz office that reminded me more of a construction trailer than a clinic. With no introduction or indication of her credentials, she ordered me to remove my shirt and stand with my arms raised. Then she took a single-bladed, disposable 39 cent Bic razor and shaved the hair off my chest and armpits, collecting the hairs in a little plastic bag.

Hair testing is a far more intrusive method of drug testing than urine screening.

While even the pee tests are ludicrously unfair for their detection of marijuana metabolites up to month after the subject ceases marijuana use, the hair tests are worse, revealing marijuana use dating back up to 90 days. To compound the injustice, people of African or Mediterranean descent have coarser hair that will retain these drug metabolites longer than people of European or Asian descent.

Drug tests, just like our drug laws, are racist in their deployment.

Needless to say, I failed that hair test and lost the career opportunity of my lifetime. Worse, the result of the drug test failure became part of my record, preventing me from going back to the temporary contracting jobs I had been working. Since that failure, I dedicated my skills to ending discrimination against people like me, beginning with my medical marijuana work with Oregon NORML and culminating with my work in support of Measure 91’s passage.

Now, this Senate Bill 301 could finally bring my mission to a close in Oregon by ending the unnecessary and cruel discrimination against people, like me, who are hard-working, dedicated, highly-skilled employees who’ve made the sensible choice to relax and unwind with cannabis rather than alcohol.

During my time at the medical device manufacturer, I worked with two young men who were some of the most gifted computer analysts I’ve met. They were also big fans of Oregon’s craft-brewed beer. Nobody ever tested them for their alcohol, and they always showed up for work and did a fine job while there.

That’s all the consideration Oregon’s cannabis consumers are asking for—the same standards and expectations we extend to beer drinkers. I never consumed cannabis before work or during work, just as my employer expected my co-workers not to drink craft brew before work or during work.

Opponents of Senate Bill 301 will offer all manner of scare tactics to derail this bill. Any careful consideration of their fears should be placed in the context of what we accept for alcohol and tobacco.

For instance, opponents may claim that without drug testing for cannabis, those employees will be a drain on productivity. There is no reliable science to back up that assertion; however, I simply think back to that Beaverton company I worked for, where they had built, with company funds, an outdoor shelter so that four times a day, 20 minutes apiece, employees with nicotine addiction could step outside to get their fix without being rained upon.

I fail to see how cannabis consumers’ productivity is such a concern when cigarette consumers were costing that company 80 minutes of productivity per smoker per day.

We’re not even asking for such smoke breaks at work; we just don’t want to be penalized for our smoke breaks after work!

Opponents may claim there will be greater health care costs for companies that don’t discriminate against cannabis consumers. Again, there is no reliable science to back up that assertion; however, there is reliable science to show that cannabis consumers consume less opiate prescriptions, use less alcohol, have lower body-mass indices and have less risk of head, neck and lung cancers.

They will also point to federal law and the Schedule I designation of cannabis. That wasn’t reason enough for Oregon to reject marijuana legalization; it should not be reason enough to not bring legalization to its logical conclusion of treating alcohol and cannabis consumers with equal respect and dignity.

They may bring up the federal Drug-Free Workplace laws, but they won’t mention that those laws require most employers to simply have a posted policy forbidding drug use on the job and do not mandate any sort of drug screening for anyone except for workers in certain safety-sensitive positions.

In conclusion, opponents of SB 301 have no argument against it that wouldn’t be a better argument for discriminating against employees who drink alcohol or smoke cigarettes—except that the federal government accepts those latter two drugs, but not cannabis, as legal substances.

In Oregon, we know better that marijuana is safer than alcohol and that the consumers of both substances can be excellent employees.

Previously in Radical Rant: The Most Compelling Reason to Legalize Marijuana Click here for all of Russ Belville’s columns

from Medical Marijuana News http://ift.tt/2m93OiC via https://www.potbox.com/

#Medical Marijuana News

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