#but I thrive under minor restrictions

[delphiniumarchangelmoon]

Is it weird to create an extended universe of oc’s adapted from fan character designs of content creators I’ve mentally killed off? Perhaps.

But I want to. So I will.

[edens-pen]

romans 3:23

summary | nanami kento can't bring himself to pull back because he was fucked from the moment you walked into the church. your little white dress was the noose around his priesthood.

pairing | priest!nanami kento x fem!reader

word count | 3,206

warnings | oh god — blasphemy, sacrilege, sex in a church, oral (f!receiving), pussyjob, masturbation, corruption kink, virgin kink, unprotected sex, cervix fucking, god kink, worship kink, praise, degradation, creampie, slight breeding kink, just the tip, squirting, dub con (ish), minorly ooc kento :(

a/n | this was not beta'd + i have church in the morning. dabbling in some kinktober!! something light for y'all to enjoy <3

[ 18 + | minors, blank, ageless blogs, do not interact! ]

—

nanami kento was a man of the cloth.

of course, the operative word being "was."

he was a man of the cloth until you waltzed into the church with your family. a fresh college graduate, staying with her parents to save money, teaching at the local elementary school.

the first sunday you came in a modest dress, your soft eyes taking in the composure of the church before they landed on him. a demure smile settled on your face and you ducked your head after meeting his eyes.

he was hooked.

it's not like he could help it. your eyes stayed trained on him throughout every service and he loved your attention. he thrived under your watchful gaze, the way you hung off of every word he spoke.

and you weren't a mystery, nanami could read you like a book. he saw the way your thighs clenched in the pew when his voice raised.

it only took a few weeks for you to show up in his office.

the perfect combination of innocent and repentant. the conversation starts sweet, a recollection of your time in college and your abandonment of church.

"i didn't go to church when i went away, i was busy and distracted," you sigh, fiddling with your fingers. "i have maintained my purity in college, but recently, i've been...tempted."

nanami can't explain the relief that floods him when he hears that you're a virgin, and the excitement that hits him when you start to open up.

"i've been having impure thoughts and they've been getting worse every week, i try to ignore them, but last night, i couldn't." your voice is a shaky whine, afraid of the consequences. "i touched myself."

your confession has nanami's eyes nearly rolling back. he bites the inside of his cheek thinking about you with your hands between your legs, rocking against your fingers. he thinks about how slick your thighs would be, how easily you would give in and come for him. he knows you're pent up, you've spent your life in restriction.

it's that moment of silence that has you filling the gap again.

"it was only that one time father, and i've never done it before then, and i haven't done it since!"

nanami refrains from smiling, only nodding at your words. he leans forward, clasping his hands on the desk.

"i'd like you to come to me the next time you're experiencing your impure thoughts, i believe i can help."

you graciously accept and nanami only bids you a good evening.

he doesn't expect to see you again so soon, or for you to be sitting in his office on a friday night, the edge of your skirt between your fingers, tears in your eyes.

"i'm so sorry father nanami, i tried not to think about it!" you're crying now and nanami is so thankful he's behind his desk because the sight of your tears is getting him so hard.

he gives you a little smile before he asks, "what did you think about?"

this is when you freeze, body tight and in panic. you stutter out a few words, but nanami cuts you off. "it's okay, all have sinned and fall short of the glory of god, confess and i can help you."

with his reassurance, you open your mouth and confess.

"i have these thoughts all the time," you bow your head and swallow harshly as you continue. "it's wrong but i think about him having sex with him."

"it's best to talk about our sins," nanami takes a slow breath before rising from his chair. "to relieve ourselves from concealment. who is this person you're having these thoughts about?"

at his words, your eyes meet his again. "i can't—"

"do you believe that you can hide from god? they are not hidden from my face, nor is their sin concealed from my eyes."

his tone is stern and it makes you nervous to see the hard line of his frown.

"it's you."

nanami clenches his teeth at your pitiful, little whisper. the shame sits hot in your face and he can't help but drink it in.

he can't bring himself to pull back because he was fucked from the moment you walked into the church. your little white dress was the noose around his priesthood.

the only thing he can do now is drag you down with him.

that night, nanami consoles your fears and worries, he tells you the real work will start after sunday morning service. he promises you that there is nothing to worry about, there is no sin that can't be washed clean by god's love.

—

so sunday evening, you tell your parents you're doing intensive study with nanami and they are overjoyed to hear it.

in fact, they encourage you to stay as long as you can.

so nanami takes his time with you. he walks you through scriptures and teachings and prayers and at the end he even gives you a technique to keep you from truly sinning.

"what people don't know is that masturbation is a sin," nanami explains, taking your hands in his. "only if you climax."

your eyebrows furrow and nanami continues, "it's not a sin if you don't finish."

he demonstrates by having you sit on top of his desk, skirt hiked up around your waist, panties hanging off your ankle.

nanami's kneeling in front of you, eyes shut. he's just breathing you in and he wasn't surprised to see that your thighs are glistening. you've just spent the last hour skirting his touches and listening to the rumble of his voice.

he pets lightly at your folds, as you lean back, propped up on your elbows. spreading you open, nanami groans to himself at your slick hole, begging for him to touch you. his fingers trace lightly over your cunt before tapping at your clit.

of course you're sensitive. his light touches have you trembling and shaking, already crying out his name.

"is this what you thought of when you touched yourself," nanami speaks, his breath right over your mound. his eyes flicker up to meet yours, hooded and desperate. "me between your legs, playing with this filthy mess?"

you nod pathetically and nanami continues. there's no rhyme or reason to the way he's touching you. he's greedily spreading your mess around your thighs and flicking at your clit while you cry above him.

"please, please nanami, it feels so good."

he responds by sealing his mouth over you, teasing his tongue against your clit.

his finger starts slipping inside your cunt, stretching you out. nanami relishes in how tight you are, knowing that your little fingers weren't enough to open you up for him. with little effort, nanami's grazing spots inside of you that you didn't even know existed.

your mess is sliding down his wrist, but he doesn't stop. he keeps going until you're whining his name again, desperate and pleading.

"oh god, please, i can't!" your fingers find purchase in his hair, keeping his mouth over your pussy. "let me cum! just this once, please, i'll be good. i need you."

tears are welling up in your eyes, but nanami knows this isn't what you need right now. he feels your cunt tightening around his fingers as your voice goes up in shrill cries.

"you want to cum?"

"yes, so bad! please let me cum!"

it only worsens when he pulls away, leaving you empty.

the tendrils of your upcoming orgasm slip away and your tears fall even faster.

your watery eyes find nanami who's sitting back, smiling teasingly at you.

"see? you did so good."

you don't believe him, not until nanami has kneeling in front of him as performs similar acts on himself.

his cock is hard and weeping against his fist. he insisted on using the slick from your denied orgasm to smooth the movements of his hand. the wet sounds of his pleasure fill the office.

"you make me feel so good, you're so damn pretty," nanami grunts. you're inches away from his dick, and he can feel the puffs of your breath against the tip. your eyes are trailing the motions of his hand, the flex of his stomach, and the tension in his thighs.

his languid pace speeds up to something rough and fast, it's taking everything in nanami not to come on your face, not to spew every disgusting thought in his mind.

all in due time.

so he settles for making you think he's just like you. when he feels the knot of pleasure about to unwind, he grabs the base of dick and squeezing until your name sounds like a curse on his lips.

"god, baby, see?" he's out breath, but it's okay when he sees the light smile on your lips. "it's okay if you don't come."

—

nanami honestly doesn't know when he got so fucked. he thought he had control of this. he believed he had control of his actions, but you've taken root in his brain, and he had to know that edging you and himself wasn't going to be enough.

it only takes a few more sessions for nanami to convince you to do more. that it's okay, as long as you come with nanami in the room to oversee it. and it's okay as long as you come on his fingers, or in his mouth.

now, nanami has you grinding on his lap, using your cute little cunt to give him a pussyjob. your panties are stuffed in his pocket and his pants are around his ankles. his dick is harder than its ever been in his life, the tip is leaking between your pussy lips, throbbing and red.

"don't worry," nanami groans into your neck. "it's fine as long as i'm not inside you."

nanami feels like he might even believe it himself, because he knows it must be heaven inside your pussy. and to deprive himself of it right now must make him a saint.

the way you're whining in his ear and clutching his shoulder has nanami strongly considering otherwise.

"this feels so good, you're so big nanami!"

and while he doesn't need his ego stroked, he knows your words are genuine. he can tell from the way you're crying it out in disbelief. he needs to hear the way you'll sound when he's sinking his cock inside you, fucking against that sweet spot he touches his fingers.

"'nami, 's good, oh my—" you cut yourself off with a broken moan, and nanami can tell you're getting close with the way your slick pours out, covering his cock.

he's learned that you cum the hardest when he's pinching your nipples and talking you through it. so with one hand nanami guides your hips, keeping you moving in his lap, and with the other he's playing with your chest.

all the while nanami's speaking praises into your ear.

"you're such a pretty little angel, you listen so well," nanami kisses your neck, careful not to leave a mark above your collar. "always so perfect for me."

and his words have you soaring, crying out his name as you clutch his shirt.

but this is still not enough.

your pretty eyes filled with tears and the sound of his name on your lips isn't enough anymore.

it should be alarming that it's taken nanami such a short period of time to be so infatuated with you, but he can't bring himself to care.

not when you look at him like he hung the stars in the sky,

like he gave the sun it's light,

like he's god.

it's love and it's power and nanami cannot let this go. your body is singing the devil's song and he's echoing the words.

so in the same breath, he's teasing the tip of his cock at your entrance, whispering reassurance as he does.

"promise it'll be just the tip, angel, just need to feel you like this."

he doesn't try to assuage you with promises of heaven and a sinless life. he knows that won't work. nanami thinks you might love him more than you love your religion.

he hopes he's right.

so you're giving in, making him promise "just the tip." and nanami nods half-heartedly, already pussydrunk imagining the way you're going to swallow him up.

"too big, 'nami, 's too big!"

but it's just the tip and it's got his eyes fluttering at the feeling of your sucking him.

he lets you settle around him before he tilts your head up to look at him again. placing kisses under your jaw, he tries to distract himself from the inviting warmth of your heat, but the feeling of his lips on your neck has you squirming in his lap.

"i can—oh god—i can take more, right? you'll give me more?" you whine in his ear, desperate and pleading, like it's nanami's fault he's not touching your cervix right now.

in truth nanami was trying to control the situation, swearing to himself that he wouldn't ruin you in one night.

but he's a weak man with simple desires and being inside you is a pleasure he can no longer deny himself.

so nanami takes your hips in his hands and keeps you right on his tip. then he takes his time sinking you down, ignoring your cries and whines of it being too much. he knows you can take it.

it takes him too long to get your hips all the way down, his balls pressed against your ass. by the time he's seated completely inside you, sweat has collected in the valley between your breasts and nanami has left marks along your neck.

"doin' so good for me, so wet and tight," nanami grunts in your ear. his praise sinks right in your stomach and he knows it.

nanami tries to take it slow because this is your first time, he barely even got to prep you, but once he starts thrusting, the sound of your voice knocks him out entirely.

"oh—oh my god!" your nails are raking down his back as you cry out, "kento!"

the sound of his first falling off your lips has nanami's rhythm stuttering. he doesn't know why it floors him, but he knows he's not going as slow as he was when he first started.

in the back of his mind, he know he should not be drilling you like this. nanami should have you laid out on his bed, softly easing his way into your cunt, probably with a condom on, after having wrung multiple orgasms from your body. he should continue praising you, reminding how good you're doing for him.

instead he's got you bouncing totally naked in his lap, his pants down around his ankles, with his hand clutching the base of your throat. tears are falling down your cheeks and nanami can't stop himself from licking them up with fervor. and all he can think of is how filthy you are for letting him fuck you in a church, and that's all that comes out of his mouth.

"so fucking slutty for me, baby," nanami groans, thrusting up harder. "letting me in this cunt so easily? have you been saving it for me?"

"yeah, all for you, just for you," you swear. "god, it's only yours!"

nanami nods, kissing your lips sloppily, "just for me? your tight, wet pussy was waiting for my fucking cock?"

"kento—"

"this body's supposed to be the temple of god, you know that? i've taken an oath, bound myself to God, spent hours of my life in prayer and solitude," nanami rambles, flicking your nipples as he speaks. "then you walk in with this sweet, virgin cunt and i've never wanted anything more."

with every thrust, nanami's rolling against your spot, fucking you into the shape of his cock. and he's in your ear telling you that he owns you now, that every inch of your body belongs to him, entirely. so you keep agreeing with him, nodding and promising that nobody else will touch you like this.

he's got his hands all over your body, playing with your chest, groping your ass, and then gripping your throat tightly.

in the silence that comes from you being choked, nanami chuckles a little.

"hear that?"

and you know what he's talking about immediately. the sounds of him fucking you, the squelching sounds of your arousal loud and echoing in his office.

"it's how bad your little pussy wanted me. how bad she wanted to fuck her priest. came to my church to fuck things up, hm?" nanami slows down, grinding you on his lap while he taunts you. "wore that white dress and wanted me to lose my religion. knew i couldn't resist this hot fucking body sitting in my pew."

you're trying to disagree but with nanami's cock pressed against cervix, but you can't even uncross your eyes.

"fucking answer me."

nodding, you mindlessly agree, "yes, you're right! kento—my god—i'm so close, please don't stop."

and the way you keep mixing his name with cries for God is making nanami's head spin. he's starting to think you're doing it on purpose.

"yeah? beg me some more," nanami smiles, nipping at your neck again. "i like hearing you."

you bite back the petulant whine rising up in your throat and choose to be obedient. "kento, please let me cum—want it so bad, please!"

this time nanami obliges you, twisting your nipples between his fingers, urging you to cum for him.

"be my nasty fucking girl and cum on my cock, sinful little slut."

your nails dig harshly into his shoulder as you toss your head back in heavenly ecstasy.

"oh my—fuck!"

the curse falling from your lips is followed by the collection of tension in your body. your cunt tightens around nanami's cock as you freeze on nanami's lap. he keeps fucking you through it, his cock pounding into your cunt while you gush and squirt around him.

"can you cum inside me, kento? please?" you're begging again, even more for his cum than for your own orgasm. "i want it so bad, want you to fill me up, okay? you'll do it right, kento? you'll give me your cum?"

and what choice does nanami have? he has to empty his balls inside you.

"gonna dump my fucking cum in your cunt," nanami growls.

that's all the warning you get before he's fulfilling his promise, giving you everything he's got. his groans and curses fill your ears while his hips stutter, painting your insides white.

nanami sighs in contentment, rubbing his hands up and down your back as his cock softens inside you. he feels you relax in his lap, tiredness overtaking your limbs.

the evidence of your sin leaks down to nanami's balls.

you lean your forehead against his, stars still in your eyes. even after the depraved acts nanami's performed on you in the last couple of weeks, you still think he's created heaven and earth.

"thank you so much kento, you're so good to me," you whisper and it sounds like a prayer.

in nanami's ears, it sounds like worship.

—

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week - June 13, 2023

1. U.S. judge blocks Florida ban on care for trans minors in narrow ruling, says ‘gender identity is real’

A federal judge temporarily blocked portions of a new Florida law that bans transgender minors from receiving puberty blockers, ruling Tuesday that the state has no rational basis for denying patients treatment.

Transgender medical treatment for minors is increasingly under attack in many states and has been subject to restrictions or outright bans. But it has been available in the United States for more than a decade and is endorsed by major medical associations.

2. Eagle Who Thought Rock Was an Egg Finally Gets to Be a Dad

A week after their introduction the cage where the little eaglet was put, was removed so the two could interact more closely. When they were given food, a whole fish for Murphy and bite-sized pieces for his young charge, rather than each eating their separate dish, Murphy took his portion and ripped it up to feed to the baby.

3. Little penguins to reclaim Tasmanian car park as city-based population thrives

Not far from the centre of Tasmania's fourth largest city, a colony of the world's smallest penguins has been thriving, and their habitat is about to expand into an existing car park.

The bright lights and loud noises of Burnie have not been a deterrent for hundreds of penguins who set up home on the foreshore in the north-west Tasmanian city.

4. Latest population survey yields good news for endangered vaquita porpoise

The resilient little vaquita marina appears determined to survive the illegal fishing that has brought it dangerously close to extinction, according to the latest population survey. Despite an estimated annual decline of 45% in 2018, the endangered porpoise appears to be holding steady over the last five years, according to a report published Wednesday by the International Union for Conservation of Nature.

5. 'Extinct' butterfly species reappears in UK

The species, previously described as extinct in Britain for nearly 100 years, has suddenly appeared in countryside on the edge of London. Small numbers of black-veined whites have been spotted flying in fields and hedgerows in south-east London. First listed as a British species during the reign of King Charles II, they officially became extinct in Britain in 1925.

This month they have mysteriously appeared among their favourite habitat: hawthorn and blackthorn trees on the edge of London, where I and other naturalists watched them flitting between hedgerows.

6. Colombian is a hero in Peru: he rescued 25 puppies that were about to die in a fire

During a structural fire that occurred in a residential area of ​​Lima in Peru, a young Colombian became a hero. The Colombian, identified as Sebastián Arias, climbed onto the roof where the puppies were and threw them towards the community, that was waiting for them with sheets and mattresses. "I love them, dogs fascinate me," said the young man.

7. World-first trial for pediatric brain cancer

Researchers in Australia are conducting a world-first clinical trial for children diagnosed with ependymoma, a rare and devastating brain cancer. The trial aims to test a new drug called Deflexifol, which combines chemotherapy drugs 5-FU and leucovorin, offering potentially less toxic and more effective treatment compared to current options.

Ependymoma is the third most common brain tumor in children, and current treatments often lead to relapses, with a high fatality rate for those affected. The trial, led by researcher David Ziegler at the Kids Cancer Centre, has received support from the Kids with Cancer Foundation and the Cancer Institute NSW. The goal is to find a cure for every child diagnosed with ependymoma.

----

That's it for this week :)

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[carnegiemuseumnaturalhistory]

Understanding Fossil Fuels through Carnegie Museums’ Exhibits

by Albert D. Kollar, Collection Manager, with assistance from Suzanne Mills, Collection Assistant, and Joann Wilson, Volunteer Section of Invertebrate Paleontology

The exhibits of Carnegie Museum of Natural History and Carnegie Museum of Art are ideal for a multidisciplinary study of fossil fuels in Pennsylvania and beyond. Such a study must properly begin with some historical background about the landmark Oakland building that houses both museums, as well as some background information about fossil fuels.

When the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh opened in 1895, the architects, Longfellow, Alden, and Harlow incorporated roof skylights for maximum daytime lighting in the Italian Renaissance designed building¹. Nighttime activities were illuminated by interior gas lighting fixtures, possibly supplied by the Murrysville gas field, which began production in 1878. With the opening of the Carnegie Institute Extension in 1907, the Bellefield Boiler Plant was built in Junction Hollow to supply in-house steam heat and electricity from bituminous coal¹. From the 1970’s, coal and natural gas had been used to heat the boilers that supply heat to the Oakland Campus, Phipps, the University of Pittsburgh and the Oakland hospitals. In 2009 coal was eliminated as a fuel source. Electricity on the other hand, is supplied through Talen Energy from multiple sources (coal, gas, and renewable energy sources). For the future, Carnegie Museums of Pittsburgh plans to receive its electricity from renewable solar energy via Talen Energy².

What are Fossil Fuels?

Coal, oil, and natural gas (methane), known collectively as fossil fuels, are sources of energy derived from the remains of ancient life forms that usually are found preserved in coal rock, black shale, and sandstone.

Figure 1.

Coal is a rock. The coalification process starts from a thick accumulation of plant material in reducing environments where the organic matter does not decay completely. This deposit of plant residue that thrives in freshwater swamps at high latitudes forms peat, an early stage or rank in the development of coal. With the burial of peat over geologic time and a low temperature form of metamorphism produces a progression of the maturity or “rank” of the organic deposits that form the coal ranks of lignite, sub-bituminous, bituminous, and anthracite³ (Fig. 1). The Pennsylvanian Period was named for the rocks and coals of southwestern Pennsylvania that formed more than 300 million years ago.

Oil and natural gas, collectively known as hydrocarbons, were forming in the Devonian rocks of Pennsylvania between 360 and 390 million years ago. These hydrocarbon deposits or kerogens are made of millions of generations of marine plankton and animal remains that accumulated in a restricted anoxia ocean basin that extended from southern New York, through western Pennsylvania, northern West Virginia to eastern Kentucky⁴. The thick layers of sediment formed black shales or mud rocks such as the Marcellus Shale. Black shales are rich in oil and gas and are called source rocks. Sandstones such as the Oriskany Sandstone that is older than the Marcellus Shale is a reservoir rock. An amorphous mass of organic matter or kerogen undergo complex geochemical reshuffling of the hydrocarbon molecules first with burial then by thermal “cracking” as heat and pressure through the geologic process of metamorphism over millions of years transform kerogen into modern day fossil fuels⁴.

Fossil Fuels in Modern Society

As commodities converted to fuels for our modern world, these resources account for 80% of today’s energy consumption in the United States⁵. All three fossil fuels, in furnaces of vastly different design, have been used to directly heat homes, schools, workplaces, and other structures. In power plants, all three have been used for generating electricity for lighting, charging mobile phones, and powering computers, home appliances, and all manner of industrial machines. In the United States, coal became the country’s primary energy source in the late 1880s, displacing the forest-destroying practice of burning wood. It ceded the top spot to petroleum in 1950 but enjoyed a late-20th-century renaissance as the primary fuel for power plants⁵. Coal now generates approximately 11% of our country’s supply down from 48% just 20 years ago. Natural gas is currently used to generate approximately 35% of US electricity supplanting the use of coal⁶. While petroleum is less than1%⁶.

Transportation accounts for approximately 37% of total energy consumption. Coal played an historic role in powering railroads, and both compressed natural gas and batteries (charged with electricity generated from various sources) are of growing importance, however, refined oil products currently power 91% of the transportation sector⁶.

Figure 2.

In the early 20th century, scientists warned about how the burning of coal could create global warming in future centuries by raising the level of carbon dioxide, a greenhouse or heat-holding gas, in the atmosphere. (Fig. 2). It took less than a century for evidence to mount of climate change associated with the burning of fossil fuels, the clearing of forests associated with industrial scale livestock production, and from waste management and other routine processes of modern life. In recent decades headlines have routinely proclaimed the risks of a warming planet, including damage to terrestrial ecosystems, the oceans, and a rise in sea level⁷.

Fossil Fuels and Museum Geology Displays

When architects Frank E. Alden and Alfred B. Harlow designed the Carnegie Institute Extension (1907), they incorporated Andrew Carnegie’s vision to create an introduction hall to the museum named Physics, Geology and Mineralogy⁸. This hall (the forerunner to Benedum Hall of Geology) was intended to introduce Pittsburghers to the regional natural history subjects of geology, paleontology, and economic geology (fossil fuels)⁹.

Figure 3.

In the 1940s, the 300-million-year-old Pennsylvanian age coal forest diorama was installed in a corner space of what is now part of the Benedum Hall of Geology (Fig. 3). Because coal converted to coke is a vital ingredient in steel production, this three-dimensional depiction of the conditions under which Pittsburgh’s economically important coal deposits formed was (and remains) an important public asset.

Figure 4.

In 1965, as part of an overall plan to bring more of the natural history museum’s fossil collection to the public, Paleozoic Hall opened with funding from the Richard King Mellon Foundation¹⁰. This exhibition featured nine dioramas that recreate the ancient environments through 290 million years of Earth history. Sadly, only one of the nine units remains on display, the diorama depicting the Pennsylvanian age marine seaway (Fig. 4), in the Benedum Hall of Geology.

Since the Benedum Hall of Geology opened to the public in 1988 the exhibition has featured an economic geology component with displays explaining differences between coal ranks Lignite coal to anthracite coal, and a variety of Pennsylvania’s crude oils and lubricants processed from the historic well Edwin Drake drilled in Titusville in 1859 (Fig. 1 )¹¹.

Figure 5.

Today, the Hall’s “strata wall,” a towering depiction of some of the rock layers found thousands of feet below western Pennsylvania, is in my opinion, an under-utilized display in terms of conveying information about fossil fuels. Although the wall is not currently documented with any geologic information, minor changes might allow visitors to use the lens of rock strata to better understand historical events such as the Drake Well, and economically important geologic reservoirs such as the Marcellus Shale (the second largest gas deposit in the United States), the natural gas storage reservoir of the Oriskany Sandstone, and the gas and liquid condensate (ethane) extracted from the Utica Formation (Ordovician Age) for making plastic products at the Shell Cracker Plant in Beaver County, PA (Fig. 5).

Figure 6.

Elsewhere in the museum, visitors can learn more about the topic of fossil fuels at several other locations. At the Holzmaden fossil exhibit in Dinosaurs in Their Time, there is a large fossil crinoid preserved in a dark gray limestone of Jurassic age, that represents a reservoir of crude oil in Germany (Fig. 6). At the mini diorama of the La Brea tar pits, oil seeps from natural fractures from an approximately six-million-year-old rock of Miocene age, to the unconsolidated surface sediment in what is now part of the City of Los Angeles (Fig. 7).

Figure 7.

Looking for Fossil Fuel Evidence in Art

In 2018, I reviewed 58 landscape paintings and the John White Alexander wall murals on the first and second floors of the Grand Staircase within Carnegie Museum of Art (CMOA) galleries to look for artistic documentation of what I interpreted to be causes for climate change based on the science. I found many examples based on the use of coal as a fossil fuel for power and coking in steel mills and the natural formation of bio-methane as portrayed in ecosystem landscapes of the industrial age of the middle 19th and early 20th century¹².

Figure 8.

Figure 9.

Searching for the CMOA landscapes paintings takes a little patience, but the visitor is rewarded by taking a new look at some of the art museum’s classic paintings (Fig. 8 and 9).

Figure 10.

Within day trip visiting distance of Carnegie Museums are historic plaques highlighting the discovery of coal on Mount Washington, natural gas in Murrysville, and oil in Titusville, Pennsylvania. (Fig. 10). At all three stops you’ll have a better understanding of the significance if you begin your investigation of fossil fuels at Carnegie Museums.

Albert D. Kollar is the Collection Manager for the Section of Invertebrate Paleontology. Suzanne Mills is the Collection Assistant and Joann Wilson is a volunteer Section of Invertebrate Paleontology.

References

1. Kollar, A.D. 2020. CMP Travel Program and Section of Invertebrate Paleontology promotes the 125th Anniversary of the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh with an outdoor walking tour. https://carnegiemnh.org/125th-anniversary-carnegie-library-of-pittsburgh-outdoor-walking-tour/

2. Personal communications Anthony J. Young, Vice President (FP&O) Carnegie Museums of Pittsburgh.

3. Brezinski, D. K. and C K. Brezinski. 2014. Geology of Pennsylvania’s Coal. PAlS Publication Number 18.

4. Geology of the Marcellus Shale. 2011. Brezinski, D.K., D. A. Billman, J.A. Harper, and A.D. Kollar. PAlS Publication 11.

5. https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2021-05-03/coal-consumption-in-the-u-s-declines-as-natural-gas-solar-wind-energy-rise

6. United States Energy Agency (EIA) 2019.

7. Bill Gates. 2021. How to Avoid A Climate Disaster.

8. Kollar et al. 2020. Carnegie Institute Extension Connemara Marble: Cross-Atlantic Connections Between Western Ireland and Gilded Age Architecture in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. ACM, 86, 207-253.

9. Dawson, M. R. 1988. Benedum Hall of Geology. Carnegie Magazine, 12-18.

10. Eller, E. R. 1965. Paleozoic Hall. Carnegie Magazine, 255-338.

11. Harper and Dawson 1992. Benedum Hall-A Celebration of Geology. Pennsylvania Geology, 23, 12-15.

12. Kollar et al. 2018. Geology of the Landscape Paintings at the Carnegie Museum of Art, a Reflection of the “Anthropocene” 1860-2017. Geological Society of America, Abstracts with Programs, v. 49, 243.

[amysubmits]

Strict Discipline

Let me start off with a disclaimer. Like all of my posts, I’m just talking about myself, the way my own head and hurt work, and my own relationship. This post is going to talk a bit about why strict discipline feels better to me than a more lenient dynamic. This is just preference, just how i’m wired. It is absolutely not a universal truth for submissiveness, or DD submissiveness. It’s not a ‘better’ way of doing DD or D/s. I’m sure for many people this way would feel worse to them. I am not advocating for this style for anyone else. This is just me talking about what I’ve discovered about myself and my relationship. 

For a long time, we were quite strict with our Domestic Discipline. Some of our rules were highly detailed. For example, “taking my meds on time” was the rule, but we had agreed upon other details like:

Keep an alarm set to go off at ‘pill time’

Mark off on the app after taking the pills

Use a pill organizer and refill it once it’s empty.

Call in my refills on time. 

Or as another example, I had a rule about doing the dishes every other day. However it also included the details:

Check all rooms for any dishes that need gathered. 

Also wipe down the counters & stove

How our DD worked was, I could/would be punished for breaking a detail of a rule. Those punishments would be far lighter, but they were addressed. We did this because it felt better to us than being lenient did. It seemed to get rid of the vagueness and sense of uncertainty that I felt if I didn’t follow a rule 100%, but still mostly followed it or kinda followed it. More than anything else, in practice, it just felt right to us. It was in doing it this way, that we felt our power exchange the strongest. Not in the punishments themselves, but in the way the rest of our relationship blossomed when this strict discipline was in place. 

This strict form of DD is something some people struggle to understand, and I can understand why, yet I haven’t been fully satisfied with my ability to explain myself. It strikes some people as harsh, unforgiving, overly-critical, uptight, etc. They think it would make any insecurities, perfectionism, or guilt-issues worse. I understand why people who aren’t wired exactly the same way as I am see it that way. For some people I’m sure it would make them feel worse, like they were being picked on for being imperfect or something like that. I’ve basically only been able to respond to that by saying that I understand their view, but for some reason, it’s not like that for me. While sure, I can wallow in guilt sometimes, that happens for me when I’ve broken a rule that I should feel rally bad about anyway. Being punished for minor infractions doesn’t make me wallow in guilt over those issues. I still take the rule and infraction seriously, but it doesn’t make me feel low about myself. 

Still, I understand why someone would think ‘Why punish for something as small as forgetting to gather the water glasses from the bedroom? If the rule is doing the dishes, and you did all the other dishes...that’s pretty good!”

It absolutely is pretty good. I agree. When I break more minor rules, it’s not that either of us thinks I have failed, or am ‘bad’, or really anything negative about me at all. It’s just that the rule wasn’t followed, which means our dynamic is out of place, and so we address it via punishment to get back on track. 

I’ve had more leniency for quite a while now. I think it’s helped me to gain a deeper understanding of why I crave strict DD. For a while, it just seemed unreasonable to do strict DD, so we relaxed things. Then more recently, we came to the realization that while we’re under abnormally high levels of stress still, that this is going to be the case for the foreseeable future. Frankly, I don’t even want to guess how long it may be like this. But, while things are stressful, they aren’t as chaotic or unpredictable as they had been in the recent past. We’ve found some sense of normalcy, somehow. So, we felt like we could go back to stricter D/s, and we both wanted to. 

While things were more relaxed, it wasn’t that we had fewer rules, we kept roughly the same amount, they were just relaxed in how strict they were, or how detailed they were. If I was supposed to vacuum on Wednesday but didn’t get to it, I could just do it Thursday. If I took my meds but forgot to refill my pill organizer, I wasn’t punished. I tried to follow the rules, and mostly did, but if they weren’t 100% up to par, we mostly let it go. That was really all that changed, and yet it felt like we were doing what we needed to do, but it didn’t feel like thriving. It was fine, but not as fulfilling as we know DD can be for us. A piece of the magic wasn’t present. Which is why we’ve decided to go back to more strictness now that it feels like we can. This experience gave me a period of less strictness vs more strictness to compare to each other. 

So, why do I want the strictness? 

Well, it does just feel better to me. It’s like having strict discipline fills in all the cracks in my heart. Strictness feels more fulfilling, more intimate, more powerful. But why? I think it’s about feeling secure within the boundaries, and it’s about connection. Those are the two main reasons.

For me, when I have a list of rules or chores, but I’m able to kinda do them my own way or on my own schedule for the most part? That leaves the boundaries not really restricting my day to day behavior that much.  That means that I don’t feel the boundaries very much, because I can go about my week without really having to think much about them, without having to focus to accommodate them. Logically I know that doesn’t make a lot of sense. Boundaries can be farther out, but still very secure, or they can be more restrictive and also secure. But I need them to be tigher to feel them enough to relax into them. It’s like knowing that there’s a leash around my neck, but it’s so long that I move about as much as I ordinarily would and it never feels taut. And it’s still short enough to keep me from danger, but not to feel the taut feeling very often, and the taut feeling is what makes me feel safe. 

While I don’t enjoy punishment itself, it has a clear positive impact on me overall. It makes me feel very closely watched over, and seen for who I am...a submissive who craves strict discipline. It let’s me feel his presence in a really detailed, up close way. It feels like his control is deeply intertwined with my day, everyday. Feeling that really deep, detailed sense of control in my day to day actions has a really positive impact on me and on our relationship. Because the fulfillment it gives me security that helps me to really let go, to breathe deeper, to feel more free, though that may seem ironic on the surface, it’s true. When our DD is less strict, I feel more burdened and stressed, more tense, like I’m carrying more on my shoulders. With stricter rules, and more detailed reminders of his control everyday, I am more at peace and feel more submissive because I feel so secure. That positive impact on me comes back to positively impact CD and make him feel better, too.  

A small piece of it is also about interaction. The stricter the rules are, the more I have to turn to him for permission or approval. I can’t just say to myself ‘well I didn’t get to X, I can just do it tomorrow.’ if the rule says it’s done on Tuesdays. And a similar impact on his side. He has to keep a closer eye on me. So on both sides, we have to keep more in touch with each other on our DD on a daily basis, which helps us feel more connected to it, and to each other. 

I don’t need strictness to ‘be good’. I don’t need strictness to feel our D/s. I do my best to support his leadership, to serve him, to keep my commitments to him, regardless of whether punishment is likely to occur. There are endless ways to feel our D/s without strictness. It’s just that for me, strictness speaks straight to my heart and brings a sense of peace and security that is uniquely fulfilling. 

[ceciliaceofbase]

I am not usually one for extreme limitations ;) But I really want to keep this blog a safe place for all, so here we go.

Bullying/Harassment

I will not tolerate ANY sort of this, no matter your "justification." Every type of person is welcome here besides those with a hating mentality. I work on three strikes and then your out policy, but only if proper apologies and advances to correct the behavior is made, otherwise you will be blocked.

This is a safe place where people can be vulnerable with things they can't normally explore. This includes kinks and sexuality! Please do not kink shame as I will consider it harassment.

People make mistakes and I understand this, but what I can forgive, others may not be able to. Constructive criticism is always welcome. I will be more lenient if hate is being directed towards myself, my blog, or my work. But I draw a line at insulting the community that my blog creates.

Racism, homophobia, transphobia, blackmail, threats, ageist comments, and discrimination based off of religion or belief is not tolerated here and should not be on Tumblr at all. This is something I am willing to block people for without a chance of redemption.

Spamming

I will message people who I believe are spamming and ask them to stop. If it isn't corrected or there is no response with continuing inflictions, then you will be blocked, unfortunately. I like to believe that most people are not trying to do this on purpose, but there are those who thrive on the annoying type of chaos.

Content

This blog is mature and I realize this. Any comments or reblogs are fine as long as there are no triggering statements or any type of harassment. Explicit is fine, flirting is fine, uncomfortable themes are not. I will message you if I feel that your comment or reblog is not the vibe, but I have a feeling I won't ever really have to do this.

I ask that you keep arguments out of comment sections, and the best way to do that is by not bringing up highly debated topics. Politics have no place on a fanfiction blog ._. so let's leave it that way.

Age Restriction

If you are a minor, read the note below. If you are asking for a smut request I will most likely need age in your bio or for you to confirm you're 18+ in the request. If you are anon I will assume you are of age. If you are above 18, I guarantee that you are old enough for this blog, but please still keep all of my content warnings in mind. I do not want to trigger or harm anyone.

A special note for minors:

Hi. Thank you so much for reading this, even though you probably had an expectation of what I was going to say. I really appreciate it, and I understand that you are probably getting tired of hearing the same things

I understand that being under 18 is hard, I ignored creator warnings and requests when I was WAY younger because I thought that I was mature enough. I may have thought I was, but ignoring the wishes of artists who put so much time into their work was wrong of me. I stepped back until I knew I was old enough to handle it.

For my content and my blog, I am okay with people 16+ following me but I would prefer that only 18+ interact with my explicit works. I wholeheartedly believe that you are personally responsible for the media you consume unless the creator has not put the proper warnings in place. My blog is not PG-13, I need everyone to understand this. There is sexual themes, innuendos, and content. When I was 13 I went on the internet allowing myself to discover my own sexuality, but I exposed myself to things and people who gave me extreme trauma... please be careful, educate yourself but do it safely.

I am always open for you to come to talk to me about education/help, anyone of any age. I know that sexual drive and sexuality is a hard path, if you would like to ask me any questions, receive help from a troubling situation, or need some minor safe resources for sexual education then I will gladly help you. I wish I had someone to help me during this time without judgment, I hope having someone here can provide you with support.

But I also have to protect myself, I am unable to standby and watch as young children interact with my explicit content. Not only because it is illegal, but also because I am morally responsible for warning people of my writing that could potentially trigger/scar them. If I am made aware by you commenting on my work then I will message you to stop and explain why.

I do not wish to block anyone, so just please steer clear of my explicit content until you are 18.

[chiefavenueglitter]

Updated FAQ about Belarus

Captions under the cut

Is Belarus a democracy? No. Belarus has been under the authoritarian rule of Alexander Lukashenko since 1994. There are no free and fair elections, and the state has been sanctioned for human rights violations by the United States and European Union. Minorities, journalists, and those who oppose the regime are persecuted. What is happening now? On August 9th, 2020, Belarus held blatantly fraudulent presidential elections. A combination of police brutality, government negligence regarding COVID, and the ousting of a pro-democracy candidate has brought Belarus to a boiling point. Belarusians have held daily protests since the election, despite state violence and thousands of arrests. Opposition and strike leaders have been threatened, kidnapped, and forced to leave the country. What are the goals of the protests? Opposition leader Svetlana Tikhanovskaya has stated that she has two goals: to release all political prisoners, and hold new, democratic elections. Unofficial polling data shows Tikhanovskaya won the election by a landslide, but the state has reported that she only recieved 8% of the vote. Protestors are demanding an end to state violence and for legitimate election results to be honored. Has anyone been hurt? Unfortunately, yes. Riot police and special forces have been using unprecedented levels of violence against protestors. As of today at least three protestors have died due to state violence. Countless others have been injured, including a large number of journalists. The UN has recognized hundreds of cases of torture at the hands of the police, with many protestors held for days in deplorable conditions. Police have also arrested, beaten, and injured minors and students. What has been the international response? Russian President Vladimir Putin and Chinese President Xi Jinping congratulated Lukashenko on his victory. Putin has also obliquely offered military assistance to Lukashenko, but whether or not he will intervene is unclear. The EU has imposed sanctions and restrictions on Belarus’ officials. What can I do to help? Dictatorship thrives in the dark—bring as much attention to what is happening as possible. The protests have been sustained since early August, and we must keep pressure on Lukashenko by not letting Belarus be forgotten. We must magnify the voices of the Belarusian people as loudly as we can.

[gffa]

@ap-trash-compactor replied:

1/7 I wanna preface this by saying I agree with everything you’re saying here but I think there’s another layer to how Raffa’s story functions both textually and meta-textually, and to what it illustrates about how many people in the Galaxy /might/ perceive the Jedi, which I personally haven’t seen addressed yet. Sorry in advance if this is something you’ve heard/read/discussed ten million times already, but... 2/7 If you took Raffa’s story out of Star Wars and put it into a contemporary drama, changed the word “Jedi” to the word “police,” and made the particulars about a high-speed car chase? I think it would sound pretty believable. And I think this illustrates something Palpatine does through the mechanism of the Clone Wars to make the position of the Jedi especially vulnerable or precarious wrt to public opinion. 3/7 Even if every single Jedi engages w the power and authority of their military or police role only in the best intentioned, most good-faith way imaginable (which the Umbara arc tells us doesn’t always happen), any time you are in a role where you, even have without wanting or intending to, exercise the power of life and death other lives, you will cause pain and be a target for resentment. Someone will lose someone, and be angry. 4/7 No matter how good or how well-intentioned or how compassionate they are, during the Clone Wars the Jedi are forced into the role of a state authority exercising the power of life and death. They are not only a cultural minority during the Clone Wars. They are also a branch of the state, and in that role they sometimes either kill people, or are involved in events where people die and where, no matter their intentions, they are the face of the state and the voice of authority. 5/7 Many of the military and police actions shown in different episodes of this series leave destruction in their wake. The Jedi’s participation is barely by choice and almost never by preference— but if you are one of the Raffas of the galaxy and your parents just died, the distinction probably does not matter much. I think this is a corner Palpatine absolutely wanted to paint the Jedi into, because it absolutely serves his goals. 6/7 There are not many Jedi during the Clone Wars. Certainly there are not many compared to the problems they are trying to fix. I have no doubt Luminara tried her best, wanted a different outcome, and gave Raffa all the comfort she had the time and the opportunity to give... But if you are one of the Raffas of the galaxy and your only direct experience of the Jedi is like the one Raffa describes? You’re probably primed to consume all of Palpatine’s worst lies. 7/7 If you’re Palpatine, making the Jedi rush from violent crisis to violent crisis doesn’t just distract them from the fact that you’re a Sith Lord — it also makes the Jedi into the face of a lot of negative, hurtful interactions with the state, which is going to impact the way people see them.

I think you and I are very much on the same page!  I have discussed this before (the public’s turning on the Jedi), but I’m always down for discussing it again!  Especially when I love pretty much allllll of this. If you’re Palpatine, making the Jedi rush from violent crisis to violent crisis doesn’t just distract them from the fact that you’re a Sith Lord — it also makes the Jedi into the face of a lot of negative, hurtful interactions with the state, which is going to impact the way people see them. You are spot on with your summation, to the point it’s almost hard for me to respond with anything because I feel like all I can do is bang my fist on the table and go, “Yes!  This is what I’ve been talking about!”  Though, of course, there is a lot going on here that’s making it complicated. This post that you’re responding to is focused more specifically on the theme of unreliable narrators + the close associations this season has had with Revenge of the Sith (the moments that make us sit up and go, “Oh, that’s foreshadowing for stuff in ROTS!” like Padme’s pregnancy, Anakin’s advice to Rex, etc.), but there’s also what you’re talking about here--that it’s been a long-running theme in the GFFA that public sentiment turned against the Jedi and that the causes of that are fascinating. I said a bunch of times that Rafa’s hurt in this episode is valid, that there’s room for both the Jedi acting with honorable intentions and that people don’t trust them, don’t draw comfort from them, that these things are not mutually exclusive and you’re hitting on exactly why--because they were put into a situation where, if they’re not 100% perfect, then they’re going to fall off the pedestal they’ve been put onto.  That any flaw they have will then get magnified a hundred times. Luminara seems to have made a point to go back and try to talk to Rafa, to tell her a phrase that is narratively meaningful within Star Wars on a meta level, like, that says to me that she has really good intentions!  But that Rafa doesn’t draw any comfort from it, as a non-Force sensitive and someone who probably is left to the Republic’s shitty welfare services (which isn’t the Jedi’s jurisdiction, they’re not social workers and we can’t expect them to be), doesn’t undercut Luminara’s presumed good intentions, just as Luminara’s presumed good intentions don’t undercut Rafa’s hurt. And that it’s understandable--because, as the Maul arc in season 5 says, the Jedi aren’t doing the things that they used to do, that crime is flourishing because they’re being so busy with this war they’ve been drafted into.  Even Star Wars: Propaganda makes it clear that public sentiment turned against the Jedi because of a cultural absence, rather than anything they actively did. This is all by design from Palpatine, that he’s keeping them so busy putting out tire fires on Ryloth (who were being slaughtered by the Separatists), on Mon Calamari (who were being enslaved by the Separatists), on Kiros (who were being kidnapped and taken into the resumed Zygerrian slave empire), that they don’t have time to do the things they used to, like take care of a lot of the criminal elements or the outreach programs that we see hinted at in the supplementary material. The Jedi had to make a choice between fighting in a war where entire worlds were being enslaved, that there were only so many of them and they were dying, that they died in droves on Geonosis in Attack of the Clones and they’re dying every day in the war, that they were literally one out of six billion in the galaxy at their height, and that they had a million expectations placed on them.  They have very little political capital/power, yet they’re expected to solve all the problems in ways that will last.  They’re expected to police the Underworld, but also not police the Underworld because then they’re restricting people.  They’re expected to be social workers.  They’re expected to fight and die in a war that the public itself refuses to stand up in.  And when they don’t live up to those impossible perfections, they’re torn down. This is not to set aside that of course there are instances of people like Trace and Rafa, where the destruction wreaked by chasing down someone like Ziro is going to sometimes cause people to get hurt and, honestly, I don’t feel like Rafa really blamed Luminara for that, given the acknowledgement of the crowded platform she was trying to avoid.  But if she had?  That, too, would have been reasonable and understandable!  That it doesn’t matter if the Jedi were doing literally everything they could, that doesn’t mean there’s not also room for Rafa’s hurt.  And that, even if I think there was absolutely nothing that Luminara could say that would have given Rafa comfort, that doesn’t make Rafa’s hurt/viewpoint any less empathizable. My blog tends to focus on the Jedi side of things because those are the characters I’m interested in, not because they’re the only element that matters. In the meta we’re responding to, a lot of the focus is on Luminara and the Jedi because that’s my jam, that’s the part I thrive on, but we’re definitely in agreement that Rafa’s feelings are not wrong and it’s not hard to see where they come from! I do take issue with the idea of--whether it’s true or not, we can all argue about it all day long, but it doesn’t matter if it’s true or not--that if the Jedi are remote and distant from the galaxy, that that narratively is approved of how they then “kind of brought their downfall (aka, violent genocide) on themselves”.  That’s something I’ve seen skirted around in commentary from the creators and I’m wary of it leaking into the narrative in a more substantial way.  But that’s an entirely separate issue from the fact that anti-Jedi sentiments exist in the narrative and that they led to the Jedi Purge/Jedi genocide. As part of the propaganda and manipulations Palpatine did, yes, absolutely, that is one of the most fascinating things!  And that doesn’t mean that there’s not validity to those feelings, even if they’re rooted in propaganda and manipulation! But that, just as there’s room for Rafa’s hurt despite Luminara’s intentions, there’s room for the Jedi’s good intentions despite the public’s hurt and/or mistrust. My thing is that I tend to look at why the Jedi act the way they do and I usually come away with empathy for how they got into the situations they did.  Like, take their alignment with the Republic, which was an organization with corruption down to the roots by the time of the Twilight of the Republic, that that association absolutely led to their downfall/genocide.  But what else could they do?  Being part of the Republic in that way allowed them to actually help people, to have negotiating power, to form treaties that would be honored even when they were no longer on a given planet.  If they weren’t under the jurisdiction of the Senate, they could not have helped as many people as they did, especially because how would they even be able to afford starship fuel or housing costs?  Would they charge people for their services?  That’s a disaster waiting to happen! There’s room for both “the best option for the Jedi was to be part of the Republic and try to improve the system from the inside, which is what they did” AND “the being part of the Republic is what ultimately fucked them”, those things are both true! but if you are one of the Raffas of the galaxy and your parents just died, the distinction probably does not matter much. I think this is a corner Palpatine absolutely wanted to paint the Jedi into, because it absolutely serves his goals. Spot on!  I have fun looking at what Luminara’s intentions likely were and what the context of the structure of the show entails, that Rafa’s character doesn’t have to be a reliable narrator to be valuable (and I say this as someone who actually really loves the unreliable narrators of SW, which honestly is almost literally every single character, very few are ones you can take at face value without seeing the circumstances for yourself), but to Rafa it doesn’t really matter what Luminara did or didn’t say, because that’s not what she was looking for or what she got out of that conversation.  I can’t say I would act differently in her position! And that’s exactly what Palpatine did.  He pulled the Jedi in so many different directions, made them responsible for things that literally no group could possibly have survived with public sentiment intact, and even if the Jedi had been literally perfect (which they weren’t), it wouldn’t have mattered, given that the entire point of the prequels is that you gotta choose between Shitty Option A and Shitty Option B. It’s the galaxy’s worst ever version of, “Which would you rather?” except its real and you have to play the game, because not playing gets you fucked over even faster, like it did with Mandalore.

[theblackbirdsgemimagines]

May I request for the Leona, Vil, Azul and our boy Jack getting stuck in their MC's world and their experience? (MC is with them)

Oh sweet Jesus akdhakdhsk FORGIVE ME OF MY RATHER CYNICAL OUTLOOK ON OUR LIL BLUE PLANET 😬 I think it’s understandable to be more cynical than ever in this Hell Year, lolll

Send these poor, sweet babies back home, they deserve better than to be stuck here of all places 😅 ESPECIALLY JACK AAAAAA SAVE THE BABY 💔

Ok, not even going to play with you... Vil would thrive, lol.

Just give him time enough to stop panicking over all his lost clothes, magic, etc., and find new things that works for him and his detailed self-care routine, and whatever he chooses to do, he will make Fat Stacks in.

He’s the male version of Belle Delphine, here ajdhakdhsj

He appears anywhere, on tv with some company to continue his performer career he had back home, or on youtube/instagram, and he is almost immediately just as famous here as he was in Wonderland.

Can we really blame anyone, tho? Look at him.

And there’s no Neige here!

Also, ‘my’ Vil is definitely the one that knows there are many different ways to be beautiful~. He may be a bit more blunt to his friends if he thinks they’re not quite hitting the usual mark their talents place them in. But that’s only because he cares about them, and wants everyone to see their best, as he does~. He’s an absolutely encouraging sweetheart to anyone else/a beginner at whatever their passion is, though~. And either way, he’s your best cheerleader~.

Of course he still just doesn’t feel himself without his magic, or ability to do potions. I don’t think he’d find the witchcraft in our world would suit him very well.

If he was really stuck for good, of course he’d make the best of it. But if he could go home, especially if you wanted to go back with him, he’d jump at the chance. And always be on the lookout for the chance.

But that being said, I think, aside from all the world’s problems, of course, he’d find it interesting just how similar, and vastly different, things are here.

He donates Ass Loads to so many charities, like honestly.

Rich boy knows his privilege, and lets others ride off his advantages as much as he can. 💜

He becomes friends with James Charles. You know he does.

You can’t be truly fully beautiful if you’re not also lovely on the inside, too, after all~!

Rip Rook wherver he is, he is lost without his Queen 😔

Gosh, in direct contrast to Vil, Leona probably suffers the most over here?? Jahdkshdj

I know they based his sleep habits off a irl lion, but that also sounds just a Tad Bit like possible depression to me (along with a lot of the other ways he’s behaved so far, lol).

Get this sweetheart to some therapy, maybe?? Help him get a lil energy boost at least to help him feel better 💛

He’s going to HATE the work pace people have to maintain just to eat here, 100%.

He enjoys the entertainment the most, though~. Video games, things you can watch online, all those sorts of things~. Might like a few of our sports, too~.

Poor bby struggles with having to work, though, please help him 💔

At least he doesn’t have to live under being Forever Prince, here, and doesn’t have to worry about turning anything he touches to sand. And the lions in the zoos are pretty cool to go see~!

He’d probably love it if he could go to Africa and see what our “Afterglow Savannah” looks like here~. Meet the lions that are in the wild~.

I imagine he and Jack would both lose the ears for human ones, and the tails, too. (😢💔) So he probably feels weird seeing himself like that, and might miss his tail. Especially if it helped him with balance. Give him some time to adjust to it~. There’s these neat new tails people made for cosplay, that can move around on their own, if he’d like one to help him not miss his old one so much~!

I had to really think about what the heck he’d even do for a job, cause he’s so grumpy to everyone, retail’s just OUT, lol. And I don’t think he’d be that great at something like youtube, either ajdhsjjd

It’s hard for him to not just lay around all lazy, rather than think of stuff to do for it/actually get up and go do it. Let alone all the meetings, and interacting with fans, and the like.

So maybe actually being one of the zookeepers would be a good fit for him~. He’d be obligated to actually go, and he’d get to be around lots of different animals~. Might help him feel more at home, too~. I think he’d be pretty good at it, and the animals would probably be drawn to him~ 💛

He’d also absolutely challenge the authority here (or anywhere else that has appalling governments, especially if they’re not run by women). The state of things, and the way women and minorities are treated by white men around the world, and men in general, would absolutely appall him. He so drunk on that respecc women juice, he just can’t wrap his head around what the hell the problem is with those rich assholes in power. Put him in power, and he’ll ruthlessly show them what-for! ALL the others behind him would be women! Good grief, humans!

All in all, he doesn’t mind it here, but would also prefer to be home, where he can sleep more, and Ruggie can run around for him most of the time, lol

Besides, that allowed him to spend more time with you~! 💛

(LOOKIT THAT HAPPY BOY SMILE!!! I’M DEAD 💞💞💞)

Oh, Jack. Sweet, sweet Jack.

He absolutely becomes a personal trainer as a job, here. 1000%. He lives that Exercise Junkie Lifestyle, there’s just no doubt about it.

He’s VERY encouraging to his students, though~! Build up that beef, guys, he has total faith in you~! 🤍🤍

He absolutely loooooooves going anywhere to see wolves. He’d probably really love the wooded mountains in Europe, if you ended up there, or in Oregon/Washington if you ended up here in America~. Definitely Canada, or Alaska, too~! Just give him huge trees, snowy winters, and nearby mountains, and he feels right at home~.

Idk if he’d miss his magic a whole heck of a lot, tbh?? But he WOULD miss his friends and family! It’s just not quite the same here, though he thinks it’s beautiful and interesting to see where you came from~. 🤍

He’s a good boy 😭

Also appalled with the state of so many rulers and governings both in your home, and around most of the world, lol.

He can’t stand seeing so many people suffer like that! How can they possibly live the life that’s the most healthy and happy for them to live, disabled, chronically ill, or not, if they’re suffering under an iron fist all the time?!

He CAN’T stand for it. You won’t stop him till he sees good change starting to finally happen. Especially if you live here! There’s no way he can just sit around and have you be subjected to that!

HE’S A GOOD BOY 😭

You gotta calm him down a lot and remind him there are others just as good and kind as he is, fighting to change things too 🤍

God help people if he gets here anytime within 2020-2021. He’s sucker punching nearly everyone he sees without a mask.

He’s also sucker punching every nazi he sees, too.

My goodness, please show him the movie Wolf Children! He’ll hide the fact he’s crying multiple times through it, but it’s one of his favorite movies here~.

If you do manage to go back to Wonderland, please try to bring a copy of it with you. It’s the one thing he’ll miss most, and keep asking to watch with you again, before remembering it doesn’t exist there. 😭

He also misses his tail and ears a lot. Losing all of that + his senses would be very a very awkward adjustment for him, and he wouldn’t really like it poor bby 💔 Give him lots of hugs to compensate U-U 🤍

His favorite thing to do with you would probably be to go hiking, and stay in a little cabin in the woods, for a week or two~. Somewhere in one of the previously mentioned places~.

(I couldn’t find a chibi gif of Azul to use, rip 😭)

Azul is just straight up becoming a mafia boss, probably wkdhakdjjs.

He’s the ‘good’ kind, though. He’s learned his lesson since his overblot, and he won’t outright kill people for not paying him back, or introduce drugs, or anything like that.

He’ll help people obtain what they want as legally as possible... But that doesn’t mean he still won’t be sly as hell about it, haha~.

He’ll protect loyal/good customers and the areas they live in, too~. In fact, he’d probably reDUCE crime from doing so.

He just learns all the dirty ins and outs of everything about how things run here. And as much as he’ll fight for change as the others would, because there’s no way any of that is an acceptable way for you to live, he’ll work dirty in order to take advantage of the system, to do so. What better way, right? Make the dominos fall from the inside out.

He’s a good business man, he knows doing so would also benefit him, too.

He’s like Bruce Wayne if Bruce Wayne was a rich mafia leader jeehskdje

Need health benefits to work for him? Covered. Need above-average pay to actually afford your bills and other stuff? Covered. Need education to do a job for him? They’ll train you.

He’s also practically a Gordon Ramsey, tbh. Lots of his bars will pop up across the world, if he stays here long enough, lol. But they’ll all help a good number of people, in doing so~.

He also donates as much as he can, too. If he’s gonna become even a fraction as rich as Jeff Bozos, he’s ending world hunger and homelessness every year.

And boy oh BOY will he swindle the rich akdhakdhwj

He will whip them so hard, they won’t know what the hell hit them.

He may have been under restrictions at the college, but he sure as hell isn’t here. Watch out as he spreads his tentacles wings.

And, of course, he adores being anywhere near the coast. Doesn’t matter what part of the world you’re in, he just needs to be by the sea.

All the polution absolutely breaks his sweet little heart, and that’s one of the first things on his list to fix. Dealing with trash back home was much easier... you could just zap it all away at big trash fields. But you don’t have that luxury here.

Being that he doesn’t really like his ocotpus form (bbyyyyyy 😢💔), he probably doesn’t mind the permanent legs. At least he doesn’t have to constantly take a potion to keep them, anymore.

But it’s still awkward to get used to. And he can’t stand that he can’t breathe underwater anymore, or go too far down without dying from the pressure.

He’ll dive as often as he can~. And loves to dive, or snorkle, or just swim~, with you, if you want to join him~.

He does miss his home, if only for the beauty and familiarity it had, despite a lot of bad memories around it. But there’s no doubt he’d thrive here, in a way only he could~.

He totally believes your own version of mermaids exists, and gets excited over anything that could prove it to be true 😅

Plus, he’s just obsessed with how marine life works here in general~. If he can juggle being a freakin maffia boss, and a marine biologist just out of the pure love for it, I have no doubt he’d do it~.

Humans most likely evolved from creatures in the water?? That’s amazing~! So the ocean feels like a distant memory of a second home~! He’d love to bond over that, the romantic~ 💜

[kirk-spock-in-the-impala]

Between You and the World (4 of 6)

CHAPTER FOUR: SIGHT - Mid-Summer, Year 1253

Chapter Summary: Geralt clears out some foglets for a village with a shockingly pleasant Alderman and Jaskier and Geralt have some soft time watching fireworks.

Story Summary: Geralt's senses are extraordinarily acute, allowing him to perceive far more than average. As necessary as those senses are for his profession, they can become overwhelming.

Or

Five times Jaskier helps Geralt through sensory overload, plus one time he didn't have to.  

CW: Battle scene, mentions of blood and injury (minor), Geralt's headspace, mentions of brothel prostitution (canon typical, brief, non-explicit mention), prejudice from villagers toward Witchers, witcher potion toxicity

LINK TO AO3

Approximately 6500 words under the cut.

SIGHT – Mid-Summer, Year 1253 

 As summer reached its height, the sun beating down on the land and sending drought racing across the continent, Geralt and Jaskier reached Lindenvale, a small, impoverished village in Velen.   Surrounded by swamp lands and devastated by the epidemic that followed the ever-northward march of the Nilfgaardian army, Lindenvale had the air of a village for which survival had become the goal, and thriving an unattainable dream. 

 Geralt had received word from Vesemir about an unusual increase in the number of traveler deaths in Velen, especially for this time of year when drought restricted the territory of the native drowners.  It was rare for Vesemir to dictate a Witcher’s Path, and the rarity of the order made clear its urgency.  So, immediately upon receipt, Geralt and Jaskier had packed up Roach and changed course for Lindenvale.   

 As they walked up the road to the village, Roach led between them, Geralt scanned the swampland on either side of the road, eyes narrowing as he took in the unusual stillness.  No birds chirped in the trees.  No bugs danced across the stagnant water.  No village children scampered about looking for frogs.  It was as if the world had died, leaving only the swamp.  

 Geralt felt unease fill him and stopped to mount Roach, pulling Jaskier up behind him.  Without a word, he kicked Roach into a gallop, anxious to put as much distance between them and the dead swamp as possible.  He would come back to investigate, but he would not put Jaskier or Roach at risk doing so now. 

 Jaskier was surprised at the sudden change, but seeing the tension in Geralt’s face, kept quiet, holding on tightly around Geralt’s middle as they raced over the narrow, dirt road toward Lindenvale.  

 As the gate to the village came into view, Nilfgaardian guards flanking it, Geralt slowed to avoid causing undue alarm.  As they reached the gate, he stopped, dismounting and offering Jaskier a hand down before nodding to the guards and leading Roach through the gate.   

 “You’ll be wanting to see the Alderman, Witcher.”  One of the guards called after them.  “Bad times afoot.” 

 Geralt looked over his shoulder and nodded sharply before continuing on.  

 “Damn freak.”  The other guard muttered, just loud enough for Geralt to hear.  

 “Shaddup! We can’t afford to refuse his help!” The first said, elbowing his mate.  

 Their bickering faded even from Geralt’s hearing as they continued deeper into the village seeking the Alderman.  As in most villages, the people they passed whispered and pointed at Geralt, fear and revulsion in their eyes.  But, unlike in most villages, that fear and revulsion was tempered with a grudging relief.  That edge of relief told Geralt just how bad the monster problem must have become for the average villager to feel that way about a Witcher. 

 Jaskier frowned as he picked up on the usual whispers.  He’d been doing his best to improve Geralt’s reputation through songs and stories, and this village clearly needed a dose of his best.  With as dire as the problem was rumored to be, the villagers should have been delighted to see Geralt, not barely tolerant.  Jaskier glanced over at Geralt, checking in but knowing any public display of concern would be unwanted.  As usual, Geralt’s face was impassive, seemingly unconcerned about the reception he received.  But after their years of travelling together, Jaskier could see the small lines of tension, the way his eyes lost their brightness, and vowed to do whatever he could to show people here, and everywhere, that the Geralt he knew was very different from the horror stories told to children about feral Witchers.  Far from stealing children in the night, his Witcher was a noble protector who would shield them from harm with his very life. 

 Within moments, they reached the Alderman’s house, a relatively large two room thatched hut in the center of the modest village.  Geralt tied Roach to the hitching post outside, giving her a pat and making sure the water in the trough was clean before approaching the entrance.   

 Outside the Alderman’s door, a large notice was posted, “Witcher needed!  Dangerous specters about!” it said in roughly scrawled letters, charcoal on an old linen cloth.  Geralt hummed as he looked at the notice, trailing his fingers over the frayed edges of the cloth.   

 “They must be desperate to ask for a Witcher.”  He said quietly.   

 “Don’t most contracts?”  Jaskier asked, confused by Geralt’s surprise. 

 “Hm.”  Geralt dropped his hand away from the notice.  “Not so explicitly.  People always hold out hope that someone else, someone human, can save them.  It’s why they’re always so disappointed when I show up.”  He said flatly, pushing open the Alderman’s door before Jaskier could respond to the layers of wrongness in that statement.  His heart clenched for Geralt, but he shoved the issue aside.  Now was not the time. 

 The Alderman jumped to his feet when they entered, startled by their sudden appearance.  The village accounting book was spread out on the table before him.  He was an older man, stooped by age, as most Alderman were, but his watery eyes were free of the usual distrust, and he greeted Geralt warmly. 

 “Ah, Witcher!”  He said, smiling broadly, “I’m so glad to see you!  Judging by your hair, you must be the famous White Wolf of Rivia!”  He thrust out his hand and vigorously shook Geralt’s. 

 Geralt blinked at him, taken aback by the rare welcome, hand trapped in the Alderman’s enthusiastic grip.  Jaskier grinned from behind him, pleased to see someone finally greeting Geralt properly. 

 “And you must be his bard!”  The Alderman dropped Geralt’s hand, grabbing Jaskier’s instead in both his frail hands.  “How wonderful to finally meet you both!” 

 Geralt was frozen, unsure of how to respond to such a warm, joyful greeting.  Was it a trap?  Was it genuine?  The indecision paralyzed him.  Jaskier saw Geralt’s discomfort and immediately stepped in, placing his other hand over the Alderman’s gnarled ones and smiling down at him. 

 “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well! You are correct, this is Geralt of Rivia and I am Jaskier, his humble, travelling bard.” Jaskier released the Alderman’s hands and bowed with a flourish. 

 The Alderman beamed, displaying the deep smile lines around his aging eyes.   

 “How delightful!”  He clasped his hands in front of his chest.  “I’ve heard your songs, Bard, but I never dreamed to have the chance to meet either you or your famous subject!”  The Alderman sighed happily, simply staring at Geralt and Jaskier, grinning.   

 After a moment, the Alderman came back to himself, shaking his head as if to clear it.  “My wife will be so jealous she missed you!  Her sister is unwell, so she’s off caring for her, you know.” 

 Jaskier could barely contain himself from cooing over the adorable old man.  It was always nice to meet a true fan.   

 Geralt had no idea how to react.  He’d never been faced with such naked admiration, with someone so genuinely chuffed to see him.  He wasn’t sure if he should feel pleased or alarmed, so he fell back on the set pattern of picking up a contract from an Alderman. 

 “I hear you have a contract for me, Alderman.” He said, attempting to direct the Alderman back onto familiar footing. 

 The Alderman clapped his hands together decisively.  “Quite right, quite right.”  He shuffled over to the desk and pulled out a piece of thick parchment.  “Right here, Master Geralt.”  He said, handing it over. 

 Geralt eyes widened, shocked again by this diminutive man who treated him like a favorite friend.  He’d never been called “Master Geralt” in all his long life, that courtesy, that familiarity reserved only for humans, not mutants.  The closest he’d ever heard was “Master Witcher”, but that was always said with a note of disdain, making it clear the nominal respect afforded by that title would only be extended as long as Geralt made himself useful.  It was the rare person who even called him by name.   

 Geralt forced himself back to the present moment, relying on his training to carry him through the interaction with this perplexing man.  He took the contract and read it over carefully, Jaskier looking over his shoulder.  It was a dispatch from the Nilfgaardian Army, given to the Alderman to execute.  It described a vague threat in the swamps, lights in the fog, travelers led astray to their deaths in the muddy water, large parties of people and horses ripped apart.  It was breaking down supply lines and must be stopped, the contract said.  The pay was appropriately generous for such a vague and dangerous assignment.   

 Geralt hummed over the words, considering them carefully.  “Sounds like foglets,” he said after a moment.  “Nasty bastards.”  He folded the contract and placed it in his pocket.  “I’ll get to it now before nightfall.”  He nodded to the Alderman and turned to leave.  Jaskier reached out to shake the old man’s hand. 

 “Wait!”  The Alderman said.   

 Geralt turned back, raising an eyebrow.   

 “You’ll need a place to stay for the night.  There are no inns here, but I have a small hut on the ridge overlooking the village.  I used to use it as a hunting base, but I’m far too old for that now.”  He said as he rummaged through his desk drawer, finally pulling out a large, rusted key.  “Here we are, take this.” He handed over the key.  “If you go to the village gate and look eastward and up, you’ll see it on the ridgeline.  I’ll send one of the boys to stock it with food, water, and firewood for you now so it’s ready when you return.” 

 Geralt handed the key to Jaskier, who placed it safely in the inner pocket of his light blue doublet.  “Thank you, my dear sir!”  Jaskier said brightly.  “Shelter for the night is always much appreciated!” 

 The Alderman smiled at him.  “It’s the least I can do, my boy.  We’ve no inn and I’m full up with visitors already or I’d offer you lodging here with me. You see, the Nilfgaardians are supposed to be putting on some sort of fire and light show on the lake over yonder tonight, something to cheer us up, I suppose, and folk have come from all over to see it.” 

 “A fire and light show?”  Jaskier asked. 

 “Aye, Bard.”  The Alderman shrugged.  “Not sure what they mean by it, but I suppose we’ll all find out.”  He sighed, stress showing on his face for the first time.  “If they really wanted to cheer us, we’d rather they lower the tithes than give us a light show.  It’s been a hard enough year without them taking our grain stores for the Army.” He shook his head at the thought, before smiling up at Geralt.  “But at least they gave us the coin to hire you, brave Witcher!  Once those devils are gone from the swamp, we’ll be able to forage safely again and that will be a great boon.” 

 Geralt gave him a firm nod.  “I can’t change the taxes, but I will clear the foglets from your swamp, Alderman.”  

 The Alderman dropped into a deep bow.  “May the Gods bless and protect you, Master Geralt.” 

 Geralt felt utterly stunned.  He had no idea how to react to this open gratitude, this deep respect, so he kept his focus on the job.  “I’ll return when I’ve completed the contract.”  He said, bewilderment coloring his voice, before striding out the door.  Tasks and hunts he understood, this unusual old man he did not.   

 Jaskier watched him go before placing a hand on the Alderman’s bowed shoulder.  “Thank you, Alderman.”  He said, feeling a gratitude so deep it almost hurt.   

 The Alderman straightened up.  “Whatever for, dear boy?” 

 “For treating him kindly.”  Jaskier smiled sadly, looking out at Geralt unhitching Roach and checking the fastenings on her tack. “He’s always used to deal with people’s problems, but no one ever thanks him for it.” 

 The Alderman sighed deeply.  “Aye, Bard.  I know the Witcher’s plight.  One came to our village when I was but a child, not Master Geralt, a different one, older.  He took care of a pack of drowners that had killed several of us, but the elders ran him back out of town as soon as he collected his payment, didn’t even let him stop to rest.”  The Alderman was lost in the memory, face pinched in remembered regret.  “I think he was wounded, too.  But he didn’t object, just took the coin and left.  I couldn’t do anything about it then, but I promised myself that if I ever saw a Witcher again, I would thank him.  Even if he didn’t do anything for me, I would thank him for what he did for our world.” 

 Jaskier placed a hand on his heart and bowed slightly to the Alderman.  “You are a rare soul, Alderman.  I only wish there were more like you on the Path.”  They shared a look of understanding before Jaskier followed Geralt out the door. 

  _________________________________________________________

  Geralt and Jaskier found the Alderman’s hut right where he said it would be, high on the eastern ridgeline over the village with an unobstructed view of the lake below.  Geralt tied Roach to the hitching line outside, leaving her with ample room to graze and filling her trough with fresh water from the nearby stream before untacking her and bringing their packs inside. 

 The hut was small, but well kept.  The Alderman’s boy hadn’t arrived yet with the provisions, but Jaskier went through the usual motions of settling in, laying out their bedrolls by the cold hearth as Geralt buckled on his armor.   

 Finished, Jaskier moved to help Geralt with his armor, securing buckles and checking to make everything was perfectly in place.  “So, what’s the story with foglets?”  He asked, “I haven’t seen you fight those before.” 

 Geralt hummed as he turned to his alchemy bag, armor in place.  He selected a bottle of necrophage oil and sat with his silver sword, rubbing the oil carefully into the blade.  “Nasty things.”  He said finally.  “Hunt in packs.  They can create a cover of fog and use it to lure travelers off the path by flashing a light.”   

 Jaskier sat back on his bedroll, watching Geralt.  “My mother did always say to never follow a light in the fog.” 

 “She was right.”  Geralt said, finishing with the oil and sheathing his sword.  “They’re tricksters.  They can appear and disappear at will, and they like to make copies of themselves.  The copies can’t do much damage, but the distraction is dangerous enough.”   

 Geralt selected three bottles from his store of Witcher potions: Cat, for vision, Swallow, for health, and Thunderbolt, for attack.  “Fucking hate them.”  He muttered, tucking the three bottles carefully away.  The deep scar on his left side ached.  Foglet’s claws cut deep. 

 Jaskier saw the tension in Geralt’s face, knowing those three potions meant Geralt expected a tough fight.  “How can I help?”  He asked. 

 “Stay here.”  Geralt said simply, strapping the swords to his back.  Jaskier immediately moved to object, but Geralt stopped him with a sharp glance. “I can’t fight them fully if I’m worried about keeping track of you in the fog.” 

 Jaskier frowned, but relented.  “Fine, but I’m coming to look for you if you’re gone too long.”   

 Geralt shook his head firmly.  “No, it’s too dangerous.  I don’t know how many there are or how long this will take.  I have to know you’re safely away.”  Geralt sighed, softening his tone as he looked at Jaskier’s mulish expression.   “I appreciate the concern, but Foglets are dangerous, and I can’t afford to stop and question whether the movement in the fog is friend or foe.”  The thought of striking Jaskier, even unwittingly, made Geralt’s blood run cold. 

 Some of that imagined horror must have shown on his face, because Jaskier gave in, accepting the logic offered.  “All right, but I’ll have bandages and food waiting for you when you get back.  I don’t think there’s a bath here, but I’ll heat some water for washing.” 

 Geralt offered a small smile.  The thought of a warm return bolstering his courage.  It was a dangerous thing to rely upon, but Jaskier had proved a constant all these years, and Geralt was finally starting to believe he might stay, might continue to offer Geralt his exceptional care and companionship.  “Might need some White Honey too, for the toxicity.”  He said, “it’s the white bottle in my bag.” 

 Jaskier blinked up at him, startled that Geralt would offer him access to his potion stores.  He never had before, and the directive was a display of trust.  A smile bloomed across Jaskier’s face.  “I’ll have it ready for you.”  

 Geralt nodded, offering Jaskier one more small smile before heading off down toward the swamp, the mid-afternoon sun lighting his way. 

  __________________________________________________

  Geralt stood knee deep in muddy swamp water, sword raised in a defensive hold as he strained his eyes, scanning the deep fog for any signs of movement.  The bodies of six Foglets already littered the ground, but he had tracked at least three more in the dense, unnatural fog surrounding him.   Adrenaline thrummed through him, muscles poised to explode at the slightest sign of movement.  Blood dripped from a deep cut on his shoulder where a Foglet’s claw had made it past his defenses.  He’d been fighting for hours, chasing the Foglets around the vast swamp, pushing them hard to force them to retreat to their nest so he could find it and destroy it. 

 As dusk fell, visibility dropped and Geralt quickly tossed back the Cat potion with his free hand.  Adding that to the Swallow and Thunderbolt already in his system sent a painful wave of nausea through him as his blood toxicity reached dangerous levels.  His eyes flooded black, skin paling as the delicate veins under his eyes darkened, clearly visible through his near-transparent skin.  The pale skin came as a result of his body concentrating blood on his heart and liver, keeping him alive at the expense of his extremities and causing a head rush that would be fatal unless Geralt could keep himself under control.  Geralt’s head swam briefly, sword tip wavering, before his training kicked in, his body sublimating the pain and the vertigo to steady his sword arm and sharpen his concentration. 

 Cat allowed him to see through the dark as if it were high noon, pupils blown out to capture as much light as possible.  This heightened sensitivity made the Foglets’ bursts of light stand out like a beacon through the thick fog. 

 Geralt caught sight of a burst of light on his right side and spun, sword raised to parry the Foglet’s long, sharp claw, feet planted firmly beneath him.  He caught the Foglet’s claw on his silver blade, rocking back in his stance to absorb the force of the blow before lunging forward, throwing the Foglet to the ground and stabbing his silver sword through its heart. 

 Another burst of light appeared on his left, too close for him to raise his sword in time, but Geralt ducked under the swipe and rolled away, pulling his sword with him, jumping back to his feet just in time to spin out of the way of the Foglet’s follow up charge, dealing a fatal blow to the Foglet’s back as it flashed past him. 

 Swamp water streaming into his eyes, head spinning from the toxins and the acrobatic moves, he took a harsh breath in and out, forcing his muscles to still and he waited, straining all his senses for the third, and hopefully final, Foglet.  They had stopped running, so the nest must be close.   

 He heard a chatter behind him, whirling around just as a Foglet’s false double bashed into him, throwing him off balance.  Knowing the real Foglet would be nearby, he cast the sign of Quen as he stumbled back.  Before he could regain his footing, the real Foglet struck, claws slashing across Geralt’s exposed back.  The Quen shield protected Geralt from most of the damage, exploding outward and throwing the Foglet back.  Geralt gasped for breath, the wind knocked out of him.  He heard a splash to his left and quickly cast the sign of Aard, hoping his aim would be true.   

 The Foglet screeched as it was knocked back into a tree, propelled by the powerful blast.  Geralt forced himself to lunge forward, breathless still, and thrust his sword into the Foglet’s heart, pinning it to the tree.  The double disappeared.  

 Geralt panted, leaning on his sword, swamp water and blood dripping into his blown-out eyes.  His muscles ached.  His head swam.  His blood burned in his veins.  With sheer will, Geralt straightened, pulling his sword back out of the Foglet and the tree with a push from his foot on the trunk.  The thought that he’d have to sharpen his sword later flitted through his mind.   

 Geralt strained his ears and eyes into the fog, searching for any sign of additional Foglets.  After several long moments of silence and stillness, Geralt relaxed his stance, sheathing his sword.  He pulled out his dagger and set to work harvesting the Foglet corpses.  With the valuable parts safely retrieved, Geralt pulled his steel sword (no need to risk further damage to the valuable silver blade) and swiftly decapitated the corpses, stuffing the heads into the thin sack he’d brought with him.  Harvest completed, he picked up the sack and moved to the next task.  

 With the death of the last Foglet, the unnatural fog had slowly dissipated.  With his eyes enhanced by Cat, Geralt could easily see through the darkness to the Foglet’s nest.  Hefting a small bomb, he strode toward the nest, lobbing the bomb into its center from a safe distance.  After the bomb discharged, sending wooden shrapnel and dank swamp water through the air, coating Geralt yet again, he carefully inspected the site to ensure no piece remained that might host another Foglet.   

 Satisfied, he hefted the bag of heads and began the slow trek back to the Alderman.  Fortunately, despite all the running about in the swamp, the nest wasn’t far from the village.  Geralt knew the walk wouldn’t take long, barely half an hour, but he felt as if he were wading through thick molasses, exhaustion weighing him down even as the potions burning through him caused his limbs to shake with the need to move.  Geralt’s eyes ached and his head felt disconnected from his body, blood still concentrated in his overworked liver and heart as his body attempted to process the toxic potions. His left shoulder burned from the deep cut, blood coating his armor.  He desired nothing more than to collapse on the ground and sleep. 

 But he was used to ignoring his body’s demands and continued to place one foot in front of the other, hoping the deathly pallor and black veins would ease before he returned to the village.  The Alderman had been uncommonly amenable to his presence, but showing up looking as monstrous as he did now would surely put an end to that.   

 Geralt thought of Jaskier waiting for him as he trudged along, warm dinner and clean bandages at the ready.  It was enough to invigorate him and he stood a bit straighter, stride lengthening as he caught sight of the village gate.   

 Seeking to avoid causing alarm, Geralt waded through the swamp and entered the village by hopping over the Alderman’s back garden gate.  Dropping the heads well away from the house, he rubbed at his face to remove the worst of the blood, and knocked on the back door.   

 As the door opened, Geralt braced himself for the usual shock and vitriol his post-battle appearance caused, knowing he looked no better than the Foglets with his black eyes and white skin, soaked in blood, viscera, and swamp water, but the Alderman again surprised him.   

 The Alderman smiled broadly, no hint of hesitation in his face.  “Welcome back, Master Geralt!”  He said warmly.  “Are you well?” 

 Geralt averted his eyes from the bright lights behind the Alderman, pupils still too blown out from the Cat to tolerate anything but darkness. He said gruffly, to the wall.  “The hunt is complete.  It was a Foglet nest.  I eliminated it.”  He gestured to the sack.  “The heads are there as proof.” 

 The Alderman must have realized Geralt’s discomfort, because he stepped forward, closing the door behind him and leaving them in darkness.  Geralt quickly yielded, stepping back to give him room.  He didn’t understand the odd, tight expression on the Alderman’s face when he did that.  It almost seemed sad, but that couldn’t be right.  His head ached too much to give it any more thought. 

 “You’re a treasure, Master Geralt.  Thank you for saving our vilage.”  The Alderman said, bowing deeply to Geralt again. 

 Geralt had no idea how to react, so he didn’t. 

 The Alderman straightened and smiled, holding out a bag heavy with coin.  “Your coin, Master Geralt, plus a little extra from the village fund to express our gratitude.” 

 Geralt took the bag, tucking it away.  Still looking down, he thanked the Alderman, unsure how to react to his generosity or his kindness.  It made him vaguely uncomfortable, but he didn’t know why.  

 Geralt nodded to the Alderman before turning back toward the back fence.   

 “Be safe, Master Geralt, and go with our thanks.”  The Alderman called after him.   

 Geralt looked briefly back over his shoulder, blackened eyes pits in the darkness, before raising a hand in acknowledgment and hopping over the fence. 

  ____________________________________________

  It was full dark by the time Geralt returned to the small hut.  Exhaustion made his legs shake beneath him as he climbed up to the door.  His head pounded, any speck of light sending a sharp pain shooting through his eyes.  The toxins in his blood caused fever to burn through him.  It took an extraordinary exercise of will to keep his spent body moving. 

 Jaskier must have been watching out for him, because the door opened before he could touch the handle, and Jaskier was immediately there to support him, slinging Geralt’s uninjured right arm over his shoulders.  Geralt squeezed his eyes shut against the firelight in the room, dim as it was, and trusted Jaskier to lead him. 

 Jaskier led him to the corner by the roaring hearth where a basin of steaming water was waiting, delicately scented with chamomile oil.  Jaskier pressed gently on Geralt’s hale right shoulder, urging him to sit on the small stool he’d set out.   

 As soon as Geralt was settled, Jaskier pressed the vial of White Honey into his hand, knowing that the black veins he could see under Geralt’s closed eyes meant his toxicity level needed to be brought down as soon as possible.  Geralt took the vial and swallowed down without even looking at it.  Despite his concern for Geralt’s state, the trust inherent in that gesture warmed Jaskier through. 

 Geralt grit his teeth as the potion hit his stomach, curling in on himself with a breathy whine as the White Honey seared through his veins, neutralizing the Cat, Swallow, and Thunderbolt with brutal efficiency.  Just as rapidly as it came on, the searing pain stopped, and Geralt gasped at the abrupt change.  His awareness narrowed to a point and an intense feeling of vertigo overcame him as he clung desperately to consciousness. 

 His heart raced in his chest, breaths coming in labored pants, as he slowly came back to awareness of his surroundings, breathing in the comforting scent of rosin and honey emanating from Jaskier’s shoulder where it supported his aching head.  Jaskier’s strong hands rubbed gently down Geralt’s back as he shook through the comedown off the toxic high. 

 Even a year ago he would have pulled away at this point, ashamed to need the support, but Jaskier had worn down his resistance with his steadfast companionship.  Geralt let out a sigh and relaxed into Jaskier’s hold.  Jaskier would decide to leave him one day, everyone did, if they ever stayed at all, but Geralt would allow himself this indulgence of care until that day came. 

 They sat together for several long moments, Geralt’s breathing and heart rate returning to normal as Jaskier supported him.  When Jaskier felt Geralt relax completely, he sat back, keeping one hand on Geralt’s knee, and reached for the warm basin.  He dipped a soft cloth in the warm, scented water and carefully rubbed the blood, viscera, and swamp water from Geralt’s face and neck.  The water was black by the time he finished. 

 “Geralt?”  Jaskier prodded, “are you all right if I go refill the basin?” 

 Geralt nodded, reaching up to unbuckle his armor.   

 “All right, but call me the moment you need something.  And keep those eyes closed!  I can’t smother the fire until I’ve finished with the water, so we’ll have to work around it until we can make it dark enough for you in here.”  Jaskier instructed firmly before heading out to dump and refill the basin. 

 Geralt’s hands were frozen on his armor.  He hadn’t realized Jaskier had taken notice of how long it took for his eyes to return to normal after he used Cat.  Usually, after White Honey got rid of the worst of it, he’d just push through the pain until his pupils started to adjust properly to the light again.   

 He shook himself and went back to his task.  Jaskier’s thoughtfulness would never cease surprising him both in its breadth and in its application to one such as him.   

 Having completely removed his armor, laying it out by feel away from the fire, Geralt chanced opening his eyes briefly to examine the damage done to it by the water and the fight.  Squinting against the light, he mentally catalogued the repairs and maintenance he’d need to complete before the armor was ready to use again.  As he looked, the pounding in his head increased steadily until the intensity made him sway where he sat as nausea flooded him again. 

 Jaskier walked in just as Geralt slammed his eyes shut, pressing the heels of his hands to them in an attempt to ease the agony.   

 “Geralt!”  He said, concern sharpening his tone.  He quickly placed the refilled basin over the fire and grabbed a clean cloth.  Gently pulling Geralt’s hands away from his face, he tied the cloth firmly around Geralt’s eyes, blocking all light.  Jaskier smoothed the cloth with his hands and pressed a gentle kiss over the fabric.   

 “Let me be your eyes for now, dear one.”  He said, tone as gentle as it was commanding.  Geralt startled at the kiss, covered eyes following Jaskier by sound.  No one had ever done that before.  Whores would never kiss him, they would barely consent to lay with him even for the premium he paid, and the few experiences he’d had where coin had not been required had been quick and impersonal.  It seemed there was no end to Jaskier’s undeserved benedictions. 

 “I can hear you thinking, Geralt.”  Jaskier said wryly.  “Tell me what about while I look at the mess you made of your shoulder.” 

 Geralt wordlessly pulled his bloodied and torn tunic over his head, dropping to the side of the stool to wash and mend later.  He sat quietly while Jaskier wiped the blood and gore off his chest, paying careful attention to the wound on his left shoulder, working away while he waited patiently for Geralt to gather his thoughts.  

 Once Geralt’s chest was clean and the shoulder wound carefully flushed out, Jaskier rummaged through the pack containing their medical supplies, pulled out a soothing poultice and wrapped it around Geralt’s shoulder.  The wound, while painful, was not terribly deep and thankfully did not require stiches.  With a Witcher’s metabolism and healing power, it would be mere scar by the end of the next day.  Satisfied that the wound would heal well without further intervention, Jaskier began wiping down Geralt’s hair, pulling out the worst of the detritus and blood.   

 “You’ll need a real bath, or at least a stream, to get this totally clean, but I’ll do my best.”  Jaskier said as he worked.   

 While Jaskier worked on his hair, Geralt pulled off his sodden boots and pants, leaving himself only in his small clothes, and held out a hand for a cloth.  One was immediately provided, and he started wiping down his legs and feet.  It felt hopelessly indulgent to have Jaskier help him like this, but Geralt was starting to believe, just a little, that Jaskier did not see helping him as a burden. 

 When he felt he’d gotten off the bulk of the swamp water and blood, he dropped the soiled cloth on top of his tunic and pants for washing.  He took a fortifying breath, choosing his words carefully.  “You always care for me so gently,” he said, sounding almost lost.  “Why?” 

 Jaskier’s hands stilled in Geralt’s hair before pulling away.  For a brief, terrible moment, Geralt felt as if he’d said exactly the wrong thing, exactly the thing that would finally wake him from this dream and send Jaskier running away.  His breath stilled in his chest as cold pain gripped him.   

 He must have made some unwitting noise of distress, because Jaskier was there immediately to soothe him, embracing him from behind and nuzzling into the nape of his neck, mindless of the filth that still clung to him. 

 “My dearest friend, after all these years, you must know that you are the most important person in my life and that my greatest pleasure is to see you cared for and happy.” Jaskier tightened his embrace, pulling himself flush with Geralt’s broad back.  “I want nothing more than to show you how much I care for you, and I hope one day you’ll believe it.” 

 Geralt raised his arms and covered Jaskier’s as much as he could, given the angle of the embrace, squeezing his hands on Jaskier’s bare forearms.  He opened his mouth to speak, lost his words, and fell silent.  He felt Jaskier’s warmth against his back, his hot breath against his neck, and felt safe in a way he’d never felt before.  His voice unlocking, he said, “I’m starting to.”   

 He felt Jaskier’s smile and his embrace tightened once more.  Jaskier placed a fleeting kiss to the side of Geralt’s neck before stepping back and returning to his task, careful not to jostle the cloth protecting Geralt’s eyes as he worked the battle’s detritus out of Geralt’s hair. 

 The silence between them was soft and comfortable, and Geralt felt himself drifting.  After a long moment, the silence was broken suddenly by a loud boom from the direction of the lake.  Geralt startled badly, thrown out of his peaceful doze, and jumped to his feet, eyes darting behind the blindfold as he sought the source of the unnatural noise.   

 Jaskier ran to the door and thrust it open, peering into the night.  Another boom and Geralt spun toward the source of the noise, a snarl rising in his throat.  He was startled out of his battle stance when Jaskier laughed with unrestrained delight.  

 “A fire and light show!” He said, smile evident in his voice.  “They meant fireworks!” 

 Geralt relaxed immediately.  He’d never seen fireworks before, just heard of the new invention in passing, but if Jaskier was unconcerned, then he was unconcerned.  He felt around the packs for his own, pulling out a fresh tunic and pants and putting them on before joining Jaskier at the door.   

 He peered out into the night, seeing nothing through the blindfold, but he listened to the booms and Jaskier’s exclamations of joy and wonder.  Geralt wanted to resume their closeness from before, but wasn’t certain he would be allowed.  He swallowed hard and gathered his courage.  Not even daring to breathe, he gently placed his hands on Jaskier’s shoulders from behind, moving to embrace him completely when Jaskier let out a happy sigh at the contact.  When Jaskier leaned back into him, Geralt let out a sigh of relief, relaxing into the contact and resting his chin on Jaskier’s shoulder.   

 Jaskier huffed a laugh at his big sigh and pressed a kiss to Geralt’s temple.  “I enjoy your touch, dear one, no need to be nervous.” 

 “But you’ve never done that before.”  Geralt said, meaning the embrace, a note of awed confusion in his voice, like he’d been given a great treat he couldn’t possibly deserve.   

 Jaskier knew that a heavy discussion would be too much for Geralt, who struggled to express himself at the best of times.  Asking him to have an emotional talk while exhausted and hurting would be unfair.  Besides, his actions spoke louder than he ever could. 

 Jaskier kept his tone purposefully light and affectionate.  “Then we’ll simply have to make up for lost time.” 

 Geralt hummed and fell silent.  He didn’t understand why Jaskier would want to touch him, let alone want any sort of physical affection from him.  Geralt had no prior experience with gentle, affectionate touch to guide him, but if he mirrored Jaskier’s gestures and stayed within those boundaries, he thought it might be all right to try and reciprocate what Jaskier offered.  He’d matched Jaskier’s embrace from moments before and that had been well received.  Maybe he didn’t need to understand it.  Maybe he could just follow Jaskier’s lead and enjoy whatever Jaskier was willing to give.  He still felt a pull in his gut telling him it was selfish, it was improper, that there was no way Jaskier truly wanted to care for him, much less touch him, but years of Jaskier’s steady affection had muffled that pull.   

 As he stood quietly, listening to the booms of the fireworks and Jaskier’s delighted reactions, he decided to chance one more request.  “Will you describe them for me?���  He asked quietly.   

 Jaskier beamed, leaning his head into Geralt’s and letting him feel the smile that lit up his face at the simple request.  “It would be my pleasure.”   

 And so, they stood there in the doorway of the simple hut, Jaskier held in Geralt’s warm embrace, Geralt’s chin tucked over Jaskier’s shoulder, listening as Jaskier described the colors that burst and danced across the sky. 

 Warmth filled Geralt’s chest and this time he was certain it was joy. 

  REQUESTED TAGS FOR UPDATES: @thesunshinemanman @animaniac1017

[citrineghost]

A Letter to WordPress

Dear WordPress,

Tumblr has been around for a good while now and many of us have been here since the beginning (or close to it). It’s become something of a comfort and a home base for many. You can understand then why it’s so terrifying and tension-setting when a new owner comes around.

This website has been through a lot of changes, very few of them good in recent years. I want to open up a dialogue from the user base about our feelings and desires surrounding this site, because to so many of us, not only its design and function, but its success and future are a big deal.

Obviously not all of the things I list below will be universal opinions, but I’ll try to outline some of the things I’ve seen the majority of users want. I’ll also throw in some things that are more personal, because I can’t claim to know everything the rest of the users want, but I can tell you where I see obvious problems.

First and foremost, here’s an obvious one. You can’t really go anywhere on Tumblr without knowing: we want the bots and the nazis gone. We need some kind of captcha system for every time someone wants to include a hyperlink in a post or response. Until the staff count gets higher, I would honestly suggest closing down the report system for everything but bots, nazis, and death threats/suicide bait.

Make NSFW content welcome again. Outside of porn bots, the pervasiveness of NSFW content is slim to none. As long as minors and those with ‘NSFW’ blacklisted aren’t seeing the NSFW content, there’s nothing wrong with it being here. A large number of the people posting NSFW content on here are artists who use this content to make a living on commissions. The ban has done nothing but make valuable members of the Tumblr community leave and take their art elsewhere. The focus should be cracking down on anyone who isn’t properly tagging NSFW content with ‘NSFW’. If the focus is put on that, the problem with NSFW content will be null.

Please keep Tumblr unintegrated with other social media. Most users will agree, the anonymity is such a huge part of what draws us to Tumblr. Other people only know what we tell them and it’s very appealing for our real life accounts (e.g. Google, Facebook, etc.) to be completely separate. When users want to share links to other accounts, they can do so easily with links on their blogs.

Replace ads with either, better, more sensible ads or members content. A large part of the ads on Tumblr make absolutely zero sense just by looking at them. Not to mention, they’re all completely unfit for the user base. I’ve seen weight-loss ads (harmful to the many people on the site recovering from eating disorders) and ads for products most people wouldn’t need or want until their forties. Most of the user base is 13-35, if I had to guess. I can tell you right now, you would make more money and the user base would be much happier if ads were removed in favor of members content. Adding a paid membership that allows users to gain access to new features (rather than restricting what’s already here) would be a huge boost in morale and company income. Use that income to improve the site. Don’t get comfortable making more than the bare minimum in profit until the website is functioning reasonably well. Hint: it’s not right now.

Keep the base functions of Tumblr. Don’t try and get radical, hoping big changes will excite the community. They won’t. We’re creatures of habit and we just want memes, fandom, and relatable nonsense. Keep reblogging, replies, customizable blogs, tags, and likes functionally the same.

Be receptive to bug reports and post change logs so that the community knows that they’re being addressed and fixed.

These are the obvious pleas of the community. Please keep in mind that the heart of Tumblr is in its users and if you ostracize us, there will be nothing left. We love this website and we want to see it thrive as much as anyone. We just don’t want to sacrifice the spirit of the community in the process.

Read more under the cut if you want to see some more of my own personal suggestions. I’d love for other users to sound off in the replies with whether they agree with any of the pleas or suggestions and also give their own!

Okay, so, here are some personal opinions that are by no means the voice of the community. I think they’re pretty sensible, but what do I know?

Change back the color. I hate this saturated navy color and I’m pretty sure a lot of others do too. I’m part of the disabled community and I know and have seen people saying that these extremely contrasted colors that were added are making their Tumblr experience worse. It gives people headaches due to light sensitivity and, frankly, it’s ugly. If you’d like to cater to those who are visually impaired/colorblind, that’s fantastic! Do so with an account setting that turns on higher contrast mode or adds patterns to things to make them distinguishable.

Add an option to blog suggestions and posts that have shown up on your dash from followed tags that says “Stop Suggesting This.” I’ve been suggested a number of blogs that I’m not interested in following. I don’t want to block the user, but I do want some different suggestions and for those blogs to stop showing up in suggestions. I’m also tired of seeing the same post twenty times from a tag I follow. There is currently an option that says “This particular posts sucks.” While I think that was a great attempt at catering to the community, I don’t want to use it because my intuition says that there’s a negative connotation. Does me saying the post sucks make it show up less for other people? Does it lose popularity? I can’t tell. The only thing I know is that I don’t want to say that a good post sucks just to make it quit showing up on my dash.

Implement some of the features that XKit uses. I would bet at least a quarter, if not more, of Tumblr users use XKit to make using Tumblr less painful. That shouldn’t be the case. Tumblr should have these functionality options available in dashboard settings.

A very hot take here that many might disagree with: Make notes viewable more like mobile has them. As it is, it’s hard to tell which ones I’ve seen on desktop. It can be tricky on mobile too, honestly, but it’s easier than on desktop. I would also heavily suggest making the unseen notifications darker so that they stand out and making a button to indicate that you’ve seen them.

Keep the dash, messages, notes, and profile as separate processes similar to how mobile has it. The trek all the way down the damn dashboard is a long one. I want to be able to see notes and messages in full size without losing my dash progress. When I switch back I want to be right where I was. I understand if this one isn’t possible or practical. It was just something I like about mobile over desktop but I’m aware that they’re two different beasts with different capabilities.

As far as the aforementioned members features, I do have some ideas, but I can’t guarantee they’re the best the user base has to offer. I’m sure others could think of better. Anyway, some things I’ve thought of are groups/clubs, digital currency, and separate dashboards. So, as it stands, You can have multiple blogs on one account. People can follow them separately. That’s fantastic. What would also be nice though, is being allowed to make separate dashboards. This would probably take up another chunk of server space, so I understand if it isn’t feasible right now, but I would jot it down. The ability to separate shitposts, aesthetic imagery, fandom content, and NSFW would be amazing. If you follow a huge number of blogs, like me, you could even make a friends dash so that you don’t miss your friends’ posts. It would just be a matter of allowing people to add and name their new dashboards. Then, when they go to follow people, it prompts them to choose what dash their content goes to. You could even simplify it by making the follow button default to the main dash, but adding a little dropdown arrow beside it. You could then choose which dash to add them to from a list. Below are some bad paint-drawn concept drawings.

Anyway, I hope this has all been helpful in some way. I’m fairly certain that WordPress will never actually read this, but it was cathartic to write and I hope it will be cathartic for someone else to read.

Sincerely, birb-ghost

[handeaux]

In 1921, Cincinnati’s New Year’s Day Roared In With Guns Blazing

On hundred years ago, Cincinnati’s New Year announced itself with a bang. Several bangs, in fact. The newspapers reported dozens of gunshot incidents, as if the city was a free-fire zone.

Jim Dimson, 34, earned the honor of first person arrested in Cincinnati on 1 January 1921. Patrolmen Harry Breckroege and Peter Schadel arrested Dimson after he fired four rounds from a second-floor window at his home as bells and whistles welcomed the new year.

Bart Marchioni, manager of the American Ice Cream Company on Sixth Street, narrowly missed being struck by a bullet fired through his front window at midnight.

Cryn Stockoff, 26, was struck in the hand by a stray bullet while walking on Apple Street in Northside shortly after 12:00 a.m..

As the clock struck 1921, Patrolman James Fritz found a group of men firing pistols at an electric streetlamp at the corner of Eastern Avenue and Hazen Street. The policeman dispersed the impromptu shooting gallery but one of the shooters, Gordon Cassell, 24, punched Officer Fritz in the head and ran off. Fritz fired five shots from his service revolver at the fleeing miscreant, striking him in the hip.

Ferdinand Moeller, 22, of Newport, and Ernest Wells, 28, of Covington, were both shot while attempting to hold up a truckload of illegal whiskey being transported through Cincinnati. Also shot in the robbery attempt was Joseph Kline of New York City, one of the armed guards assigned to protect the shipment of bootleg hootch.

William Wright, 13, of Meade Avenue in the East End was shot through his right arm by a friend while they played with a pistol.

Arthur Spiegel, beginning a brand-new term as Police Court judge on New Year’s Day, found four cases of discharging firearms within city limits on his docket.

Perhaps Cincinnati was just trying to find a new way to blow off steam. The transition from 1920 to 1921 marked the first New Year’s Eve under the iron thumb of Prohibition. The Cincinnati Enquirer [1 January 1921] noticed a distinct absence of jollity as the year transitioned:

“The new year was ushered in propitiously last night with scores of watch parties and midnight dinners, both large and small, and with the usual accompaniment of noise, but the hilarity and spontaneity that has long been characteristic of the New-Year celebrations was strangely absent.”

According to the Enquirer, alcohol was not totally absent, despite the new federal law, as citizens often had private stocks remaining legally in their own houses, but partiers were still testing the limits of public drinking by sneaking the odd flask or two into a hotel ballroom. Per the Enquirer:

“The lid was on tight and the first day, even the first minute, of 1921 was christened with water, coffee, tea and other safe and sane drinks.”

And yet, four inebriants found themselves in Police Court as the day began, charged with public intoxication.

Part of the somber celebration might be attributed to economic problems as Cincinnati suffered, along with the rest of the United States, through the financial depression following World War I. The papers featured cheery messages from bankers and businessmen promising better days ahead.

Still, newspapers referred so often to the “high cost of living” that it earned its own acronym – HCL – in the editorial cartoons. This, when grocers advertised coffee at 17 cents per pound, eggs at 36 cents per dozen, butter at 54 cents a pound and bread at 9 cents per loaf. The large package of Kellogg’s Corn Flakes went for 10 cents a box.

That a new era was dawning was made clear by the announcement New Year’s Day that President-elect Warren Harding would eschew the traditional horse and carriage and ride to his inauguration in an automobile. The Cincinnati Post announce plans to construct the city’s first parking garage, a facility designed to hold 1,000 motor cars. Within a decade, autos shoved everyone else off Cincinnati’s streets.

The big political debate roiling the otherwise placid demeanor of the Queen City was the prospect of a national Blue Law prohibiting theaters, athletics facilities, concert halls and restaurants from opening on Sundays. Dr. Wilbur F. Crafts, chairman of the International Reform Bureau, issued a public denial that his strait-laced organization had proposed any such thing. Still, dozens of other “progressive” organizations were likely suspects in a movement that faced stiff opposition among a public just beginning to understand the full weight of restrictions imposed by Prohibition.

The Enquirer editorially raged against blue-nosed reformers it labeled a “frenetic minority of alleged purists” who aimed to censor the fruits of human creativity.

“In various localities throughout the country self-styled ‘Christian civic leagues’ are butting their heads against plain and honest American common sense. The activities of these consecrated individuals reach their climax in the demand for the clothing of nude statues and the veiling or destruction of nude paintings.”

Asserting that “throttling art” has historically resulted in an increase in crime, the Enquirer bemoaned the possibility that the Cincinnati Art Museum might be made over “into a home for superannuated spinsters and reformers who have burned out their energies in the labor of clothing this bright world in sackcloth and ashes.”

One good and wholesome endeavor thrived in Cincinnati in 1921, competitive walking. The idea of running long distances had not yet taken root in town, but high-speed sauntering was in its heyday. Sebastian Linehan, champion walker and president of the local chapter of the American Walkers Association, distributed a New Year’s circular, encouraging members “to make the coming year a notable one in Cincinnati in the heel-and-toe game.”

By mid-afternoon on 1 January 1921, the Queen City had settled down to business as usual. The first robbery of the year was reported at 5:00 p.m. that day by West End grocer Markus Sterkin, who reported the theft of two boxes of chewing gum.

[spacegaywritings]

Warming Paws and melting Walls (4/8) “Little Talks”

General

Summary: Lunch break rolls around. Remy and Emile make a deal.

Tags: food, eating, employer/employee, pining, remy, emile, kitty Virgil, quick mention of bereavement, sick days, systematic issues, ew world, fish, feeding the beast, mutual crushes, genderqueer characters, migraines, headaches, pain mention, exhaustion.

My KoFi  - Support me ♥ or Commission me

ao3: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 // all.

tumblr:  1 / 2 / 3 / 4 (you are here!) / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8.

 Story under the cut - Word count: almost 3k

Remy sighed and pushed his keyboard away, effectively managing to continue to press until the keyboard was unable to go any further since it hit the screen’s humble frame. Eventually, he just worked to drive himself away from the big desk he was working at. The swivel chair let him roll all over the floor, the tiled ground smooth and willing to let him pass without obstacle. Virgil commented his shenanigans with a little movement of their ear. It was just a quick flinch. Remy was not sure but he suspected it meant he was listening or registering noise at least.

 It was cute.

But.

This bastard cat was sleeping.

 The man sighed again.

 “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, Queen, I swear-”

 Well, no matter how threatening the fancy man tried to be, it did not reach the napping cat. The little void was all comfortable in his lap. There was not a single motion at his dramatic actions, not even a simple reaction. There was nothing but a bundle of black, so black that they camouflaged themself into the blackness of Remy’s pants. All that distinguished one from another was the slow movement of rising and falling.

 Virgil was breathing alright. That was good.

Could cats have breathing problems? The vet said the cat was okay. Still, he made a mental note to look out for any signs.  

Knowing they were okay for now - with a pass by the vet - Remy felt like he could breathe much better himself. He had not noticed it but he released a soft sigh of relief. His eyes lowered to just watch the little blob of colourless something rest on his thighs.

 “I have lunch time, V, would you kindly get up and be awake and do cat things? You were awake all morning with me!”

 Despite his complaints, Remy’s words were barely audible. The receptionist was more or less hissing to himself and it sounded like a small snake cursing the world somewhere from the little hidden corner on the other side of the room.

Far, far away.

His threats were as empty as his condescension. Nothing but attitude.

 The kitten remained still and as much dopamine as there was being released within Remy, he could not help but wish to move...then again, the kitty cat was absolutely warm and the little weight on him was somewhat comforting in a refreshing manner.

 He had already finished most of his work despite having been late this morning and even needing to deal with a certain storm of emails and phone calls. Not to forget the actual real life human people that encountered him face to face.

Ugh - the worst kind of people.

 Oh fuck, he wanted more coffee. He wanted all the coffee he could ask for and then just nap for a few minutes and then get work done and go home and read some dumb romance novel.

Don’t judge.

He needed to get his prince charming from somewhere. It was not like Remy was dating anyone particularly... existing in the first place. And he just really craved some fucking love shit every now and then. You know, the soft trash with people holding hands and giving each other pet names and one bringing flowers for the others and that one thinking of a certain habit the one has so they are considering it in their regular activities.

 Remy’s facial expression faded from soft into something akin to receiving news of a bad weather day when you planned on doing any outdoor-activities with friends.

 It just ... it was missing.

 “Ah! You are done?”

 Remy flinched, his little dream world immediately breaking down as the voice cut through the silence of his new office. His fantasy bubble blobbed violently on impact of Emile’s intrusive words hitting him. He looked up. A person was standing there, apologising and knocking. Knocking after already standing in the doorway and having addressed him.

 It was not a knight in shining armour to save a bored damsel in distress nor was it prince charming, ready to sweep the sleepy man off his feet. 

It was just his boss, Emile.

 ...But it was his boss, Emile.

 Remy smiled and let himself fall back into his chair. He had not noticed how he had sat up with the sudden noise interrupting his thoughts. And his arms were slung around a sleepy yet awake little Virgil. As always, his grip was rather loose around the kitten. In a case of need, he would be tehre to hold and hug them, though.

 “Aw, I am sorry. I should have knocked before. Did I wake them up?”

 Remy blinked and nodded. Virgil was not awake but he nodded anyway, just doing it for literally no reason. Emile saw the sleeping kitten but did not comment.They squinted for a moment, worry shading their features.

 Was that just him or did it smell of food already?

Oh fuck, he had forgotten about the food. Bitch, this cat would literally make him forget and miss about everything and all. First his post-work nap, then his rave, his whole weekend, now his work and lunch break were affected, too.

 “You got food? Come in, come in.”

 This little void was easily eating away his whole life without any hesitation. He readily let him.. In his defence, they looked so cute when yawning. The charcoal demon was stretched out on Remy’s lap and pushed their tail against his chest, turning to Emile and meowing at the boss.

 Did they seriously greet them? Literally, Remy could not- this cat!

 Or maybe they meowed at the smell, it did kind of smell nice after all and the kitten had slept through his entire time here after he had gotten to work. Not even Virgil liked mornings or staying up. At least they could get back to napping, Remy jealously noticed.

 “Virgil just woke up, what a coincidence”, Remy spoke, words jokingly snippy as he carefully picked up the kitten and stroked through their fur.

“Good morning little sleepy head.”

 The kitten replied with a big orchestra of purrs and an eager bonk as they crashed their head against Remy’s. Little ferocious kitten attacking him.

 “Emile, I promise they want to kill me!”

 They laughed and held up a bag of food, slowly swinging it from one side to another.

 “Maybe we can bribe them with some lunch? It’s on me, meet you in the lunch room.”

 Remy carefully squeezed the kitten as his higher-up turned around to show their graceful behind, clothed in layers of pastels and beige. They looked the softest in the most boring yet also least boring way. It was weirdly hot, in a kinda cute and endearing way. Also, pastel colours just looked soft and somehow, they made it look professional but in a trustworthy and warm kind of way.

 It made Remy feel fuzzy and he hated loving it so much. Damn them for being so wickedly attractive.

 He swallowed his secret pining away and decided to get his kitten ready to follow Emile and get some food. Once he had his phone pocketed and his grip on Virgil secured, he was ready to walk after them. When they were close enough, he snuck over to the other side to handle whatever the heck Em wanted to talk about.

 Knowing them, it was probably something nice and soft or extra work that would get paid for super well because Emile was about the most considerate employer he had ever met. Also, because Remy was working as an untrained accountant while receiving full pay for handling literally all this business. Emile only made the official calls. Remy did not mind it because he knew, they somewhat advocated for this stance that employees were actual human beings. This meant they had needs and therefore were to be valued and appreciated and given space and freedom, so they could be creative and work effectively with as little restrictions as possible.

 Hence, Remy was allowed to hang up whatever kind of pictures and decorate his office in any kind of way. Well, nudity and such was not allowed, considering sometimes minors would enter the clinic as well, but other than that, Remy had challenged the therapist a lot.

They never let him down.

 Also, they handled his amount of sick days without issues and allowed him to hand in more sick days than he legally had to accept. They easily brushed it off as half-work day or employer-covered vacation. You know, like the stuff you got when sick days counted but in that case, you did not have any and still got pay and zero threats. Or like, bereavement leave and all.

 Emile and Remy got together and the former put out the meals and slid them into their respective places as Remy got some plates and cutlery. The lunch room was a small kitchen. It had the most essential things. Virgil was standing on Remy’s seat and lurked around. Their tail was showing despite the table stealing the view on them. Emile could see them and they saw the tail slowly swishing from one side to the other.

 Hovering, waiting. Patiently. Like a predator.

 Remy returned and put the plates down.

 “Kitty, what the fuck are you doing”

 Virgil meowed, eyes wide. Their tail stood upright with a little curl forming itself into its tip. This little void was living the life of luxury and decadence to just eat and be carried, then sleep and get woken up only to get some more food.

Remy was thriving on this attitude. What a luxury hoe. Such a Queen.

 “Remy, I think your cat will eat with us”

 His boss chuckled quietly and seated themself while Remy just sighed, rolling his eyes. By now, his head was hurting already. Not much but it was starting to hurt - moving hurt. It felt heavy and made him sleepy and exhausted.

Concentration was.. slightly off. Especially his sustained attention.

 He carefully picked up his void and put them into his lap.

 “Meow!”

 “Yes, Virgil, yes. You will eat with us, just calm down.”

 The kitten wiggled in his lap and put their paws on the edge of the table, looking at the hot sweating food containers.

 “Virgil, behave. Come on, honey”, Remy warned.

 Even his voice seemed heavy and tired. He missed his nap. In spite of this, he was being an attentive “temporary pet-keeper”. His hand moved to gently nudge the paws away from the table. Then, he picked them up to let the kitten dance dance dance a bit.

 “I am a good kitty and I will wait”, Remy mimicked softly and moved the paws from one side to the other as Virgil patiently stood on their hind paws and stared at the world in confusion.

 Emile giggled at the display while Virgil did not know what the heck was going on. Did their temporary owner go insane? They pulled out another chair on which they prepared a smaller bowl with a bit of fish in it. No seasoning or spice or anything. They had gotten it from a nearby store they had visited on the way to pick up the food order. After all, they had not been sure about whether or not Remy actually had brought some food for the kitten but apparently, this arrangement worked and Virgil’s interest was sparked.

 They watched the bowl move from Emile’s hands over to the seat and once the bowl was settled, the kitten launched themself over to the chair and ducked their tiny raven head into the big bowl. Their whole head disappeared in it and only these dark ears peeked out from within.

Silent chewing noise could be heard.

 “Remy! Remy! They eat the food I brought! Look at this kitten!”

 The receptionist couldn’t deny himself the joy of a small smile as he looked over at the small bundle of darkness hunched over the food bowl and purring in delight. In addition to this, Emile was giggling, beaming in delight and genuinely touched.

Remy looked up at them. For a moment, their eyes locked but they both looked away, averting their gazes to look at Virgil instead.

 It was rather silent for a moment, safe for the rhythmic vibrations coming from Virgil. Apparently they enjoyed their food.

 “Hey, hey - careful now!”, he warned with a grin on his face.

 He nudged his sunglasses off his head and let them slip down and onto his nose to cover his half-lidded eyes. They gleamed at Emile for a moment.

 “If you keep that up, maybe you will be their new favourite human.”

 Emile held their chest for a moment and settled opposite of Remy. Their cheeks seemed slightly reddened but they concealed it by tending to the food. They put some of the steamed vegetables onto their plate and added some fried rice. To top it all of, he had a bit of natural yoghurt from the fridge.

 They returned the playful shine in Remy’s eyes by smirking at him.

 “You say that as if this was a bad thing, Remy “

 Remy snorted.

 “You say this as if you were planning to take this poor little cat away from my horrid claws, Emile.”

 Remy had finally arranged his food on his plate, steam curling upwards from his curry and rice. Even the food containers were still sweating and smoking in heat. They looked as if these containers acted like some sort of sauna. He fed himself a first spoonful of fried rice - the tiny brown one that looked like some holy glazed rice and so small it barely qualified as anything at all - and leaned into his seat.

 Oh, this was just delightful.

Savoury flavour bloomed in his mouth, exploding in contrasts to the soft and squishy rice with the slightly harder vegetables. The different tastes stimulated his tongue just right.

If someone said foodgasms were a lie, they were missing out on this delight. It was the most subjective of all paradises.

  “The thing I wanted to talk to you about-”, Emile started, taking a bit of time to drink something in between.

 Talking all day made their throat as dry as a sand dessert.

 “You can keep my office and let your cat come to work with you but I need to ask a little favour of you. I am sure you will want to agree! “

 Remy shifted in his seat. He blinked for a moment but gave a small nod to indicate he was not just listening to probably on board for whatever Emile was planning to have him do. The therapist let their lips curl into a genuine smile.

 “We need to give our new offices a makeover! I bet you would feel more comfortable in a novel set of four walls, huh?”

 The receptionist’s cheeks darkened by a whole shade and his chest jumped for a minuscule moment. Just a little harder. He was sure it was visible and even the kitten raised their head to look at the two, staring into Emile before letting their gaze rest on their temporary owner.

However, they quickly lost interest and returned to chewing on their food.

 “Well, that sounds amazing but I.. Virgil isn’t mine.”

 Emile blinked and the kitten meowed, nudging back the bowl and retreating to Remy’s lap. He willingly picked up the void and brushed through their fur as always. The bowl was licked clean and absolutely blank. Apparently, the cat was more than just a bit into it.

 It was silent once more. Even the cat did not purr despite the soft head scritches they got. Remy pursed their lips, a shadow hitting their face.

Their whole beauty was obstructed.

 “See, their owners still might answer. I put up some signs and made a few posts on forums about missing pets. When I went to nearby shelters and called vets, I gave them a picture of Virgil and left my contact details around. They are not tattooed but they are too tame to be a wild cat.”

 Remy shrugged, voice deflated as he continued. The narrowed their eyes at him. The idea of an unaffected Remy seemed unrealistic. The man was cuddling the cat and wanted to call in sick - while knowing about how scarce his sick days were.

 “What if someone moved and accidentally left Virgil abandoned? Or they ran away during the chaos of moving?”

He sighed.

“You know, if nobody responds within a week, I think I will take you up on it. Until then I will just steal your office, honey.”

 His low voice swung up at the end of his sentence and he even let a small smile grow on his lips. Anyway, it was time to pay attention to his food. It was so much better than to look at Emile’s doubtful face.

 “You know what”, Emile countered, “I have the feeling Virgil will stay with you. Nobody responded in days and they are attached to you. It would be cruel to separate you know.”

 They helped themself to a bit more vegetables.

 “Just you wait, Remy.”

 The receptionist smirked back at them.

 “Whatever, honey~”

[pettyhelen94]

Bacterial Vaginosis Rephresh Incredible Tricks

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Can Bacterial Vaginosis Cause Missed Period

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Bacterial Vaginosis Discharge During Pregnancy

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[fiadhaisteach]

New York Times: text under cut

What Lockdown 2.0 Looks Like: Harsher Rules, Deeper Confusion    

By Damien Cave

_________________________________________________________

Melbourne, Australia’s second-largest city, is becoming a case study in handling a second wave of infections. There are lots of unanswered questions.

Credit...William West/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images

Australia’s second-largest city, Melbourne, is grappling with a spiraling coronavirus outbreak that has led to a lockdown with some of the toughest restrictions in the world — offering a preview of what many urban dwellers elsewhere could confront in coming weeks and months.

The new lockdown is the product of early success; the country thought it had the virus beat in June. But there was a breakdown in the quarantine program for hotels. Returning travelers passed the virus to hotel security guards in Melbourne, who carried the contagion home.

Even after masks became mandatory in the city two weeks ago, the spread continued. And now, as officials try to break the chain of infections, Melbourne is being reshaped by sweeping enforcement and fine print. A confounding matrix of hefty fines for disobedience to the lockdown and minor exceptions for everything from romantic partners to home building has led to silenced streets and endless versions of the question: So, wait, can I ____?

Restaurant owners are wondering about food delivery after an 8 p.m. curfew began on Sunday night. Teenagers are asking if their boyfriends and girlfriends count as essential partners. Can animal shelter volunteers walk dogs at night? Are house cleaners essential for those struggling with their mental health? Can people who have been tested exercise outside?

“This is such a weird, scary, bizarro time that we live in,” said Tessethia Von Tessle Roberts, 25, a student in Melbourne who admits to having hit a breaking point a few days ago, when her washing machine broke.

“Our health care workers are hustling around the clock to keep us alive,” she said. “Our politicians are as scared as we are, but they have to pretend like they have a better idea than we do of what’s going to happen next.”

Pandemic lockdowns, never easy, are getting ever more confusing and contentious as they evolve in the face of second and third rounds of outbreaks that have exhausted both officials and residents. With success against the virus as fleeting as the breeze, the new waves of restrictions feel to many like a bombing raid that just won’t end.

For some places, risk calculations can change overnight. In Hong Kong, officials banned daytime dining in restaurants last month, only to reverse themselves a day later after an outcry. Schools in some cities are opening and closing like screen doors in summer.

In many areas where the virus has retreated and then resurged, the future looks like a long, complicated haul. Leaders are reaching for their own metaphors to try to explain it.

Image

Credit...William West/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images

In California, Gov. Gavin Newsom has compared his opening and shutting of businesses to a

“dimmer switch.”

Dan Andrews, the premier in Victoria, the state of which Melbourne is the capital, has repeatedly referred to “pilot light mode” for industries like construction and meatpacking, which have been ordered to temporarily reduce their work forces.

Whatever the metaphor, the situation is bleak.

In Melbourne, a city of five million that is considered a capital of food and culture, the pandemic has come raging back even after a so-called Stage 3 lockdown began in early July — until recently the highest level of restrictions.

Officials have been flummoxed at every turn by the persistent complacency of just enough people to let the virus thrive and multiply.

Traffic data showed people driving more in July than they had during the first Stage 3 lockdown, in March and April. Even worse, almost nine out of 10 people with Covid-19 had not been tested or isolated when they first felt sick, Mr. Andrews, the state’s top leader, said in late July. And 53 percent had not quarantined while waiting for their test results.

“That means people have felt unwell and just gone about their business,” Mr. Andrews said.

Sounding the alarm, he made face masks mandatory the next day, on July 22.

Still, infections have continued to rise. They peaked at 753 new cases on July 30, and have hovered around 500 a day ever since, with the death toll in Victoria now standing at 147, after 11 deaths were recorded on Monday.

Those figures, while far less troublesome than those in the United States, have paved the way for a Stage 4 lockdown — what officials are calling a “shock and awe” attack on the virus — that will last at least six weeks.

Image

Credit...Daniel Pockett/Getty Images

Overwhelming force, with precision, seems to be the goal. The chief modelers of the pandemic response in Australia have found that the virus can be suppressed only if more than 70 percent of the population abides by social distancing guidelines and other public health rules.

Mr. Andrews said the new restrictions would take 250,000 more people out of their routines, in the hopes of reaching the necessary threshold.

So retail stores will be closed. Schools will return to at-home instruction. Restaurants will be takeout or delivery only. Child-care centers will be available only for permitted workers.

Those restrictions are already well understood. The rules requiring more explanation are tied to the curfew and industries that have to cut back.

Large-scale construction projects of more than three stories, for example, will have to reduce their on-site work force by 75 percent, and workers will not be able to work at more than one location. Small-scale construction cannot have more than five workers.

All of which sounds clear. But does a bathroom renovation, for example, amount to home building in an apartment with one bathroom? And what about fixing things that break, like Ms. Von Tessle Roberts’s washing machine?

Some businesses, like cleaning services, are already emailing customers to say they think they can do some work, for people who pay through welfare or who need help for mental health reasons. But, like many others, they are still seeking official clarification.

Image

Credit...David Crosling/EPA, via Shutterstock

Mr. Andrews, a Labor politician sometimes described as awkward and paternal, has become the dad everyone needs answers from. He now oversees, under the lockdown rules, what may be the country’s most intrusive bureaucracy since its days as a penal colony.

The Coronavirus Outbreak ›

Frequently Asked Questions

Updated August 4, 2020

I have antibodies. Am I now immune?

I’m a small-business owner. Can I get relief?

What are my rights if I am worried about going back to work?

Should I refinance my mortgage?

What is school going to look like in September?

As of right now, that seems likely, for at least several months. There have been frightening accounts of people suffering what seems to be a second bout of Covid-19. But experts say these patients may have a drawn-out course of infection, with the virus taking a slow toll weeks to months after initial exposure. People infected with the coronavirus typically produce immune molecules called antibodies, which are protective proteins made in response to an infection. These antibodies may last in the body only two to three months, which may seem worrisome, but that’s perfectly normal after an acute infection subsides, said Dr. Michael Mina, an immunologist at Harvard University. It may be possible to get the coronavirus again, but it’s highly unlikely that it would be possible in a short window of time from initial infection or make people sicker the second time.

The stimulus bills enacted in March offer help for the millions of American small businesses. Those eligible for aid are businesses and nonprofit organizations with fewer than 500 workers, including sole proprietorships, independent contractors and freelancers. Some larger companies in some industries are also eligible. The help being offered, which is being managed by the Small Business Administration, includes the Paycheck Protection Program and the Economic Injury Disaster Loan program. But lots of folks have not yet seen payouts. Even those who have received help are confused: The rules are draconian, and some are stuck sitting on money they don’t know how to use. Many small-business owners are getting less than they expected or not hearing anything at all.

Employers have to provide a safe workplace with policies that protect everyone equally. And if one of your co-workers tests positive for the coronavirus, the C.D.C. has said that employers should tell their employees -- without giving you the sick employee’s name -- that they may have been exposed to the virus.

It could be a good idea, because mortgage rates have never been lower. Refinancing requests have pushed mortgage applications to some of the highest levels since 2008, so be prepared to get in line. But defaults are also up, so if you’re thinking about buying a home, be aware that some lenders have tightened their standards.

It is unlikely that many schools will return to a normal schedule this fall, requiring the grind of online learning, makeshift child care and stunted workdays to continue. California’s two largest public school districts — Los Angeles and San Diego — said on July 13, that instruction will be remote-only in the fall, citing concerns that surging coronavirus infections in their areas pose too dire a risk for students and teachers. Together, the two districts enroll some 825,000 students. They are the largest in the country so far to abandon plans for even a partial physical return to classrooms when they reopen in August. For other districts, the solution won’t be an all-or-nothing approach. Many systems, including the nation’s largest, New York City, are devising hybrid plans that involve spending some days in classrooms and other days online. There’s no national policy on this yet, so check with your municipal school system regularly to see what is happening in your community.

On Tuesday, he answered questions from reporters about dog-walking (allowed after curfew, sort of, only near home) and other subjects of great confusion at a news conference in Melbourne.

Thanking those who complied with the new rules and scolding those who did not, he announced that no one in self-isolation would now be allowed to exercise outdoors. A door-knocking campaign to check in on 3,000 people who had Covid-19 found that 800 of them were not at home.

All 800 have been referred to the Victoria police for investigation. The fine for violators going forward, he said, will be 4,957 Australian dollars, $3,532.

Working, even legally, will also become trickier. Other than, say, hospital workers with formal identification, everyone traveling for a job deemed essential during the lockdown must carry a formal document — a work permit signed by the employer and employee.

For Cara Devine, who works at a wine store that closes at 8 p.m., that means carrying a government form with her everywhere, and hoping that the police recognize her task as essential when she heads home after the curfew. But she also worried about the Uber drivers who take her back and forth.

Image

Credit...William West/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images

“Even before the newest restrictions, I’ve had two Uber drivers being really late picking up from the shop because they got stopped by the police, taking about an hour out of their work time,” she said.

The police are already confronting opposition. On at least four occasions in the last week, they reported having to smash the windows of cars and pull people out after they refused to provide a name and address at a police checkpoint. The Victoria police commissioner, Shane Patton, said a 38-year-old woman had also been charged with assault after attacking a police officer who had stopped her for not wearing a face mask.

Some criminologists are questioning whether the harsher enforcement will help. Mostly, though, Melburnians are just trying to endure.

Walking to get groceries, Peter Barnes, 56, said he welcomed the stricter rules, though he admitted his city was starting to feel like George Orwell’s “1984,” with the heavy hand of the state around every corner.

Those focused solely on the economics, he said, should remember the obvious: “You can’t hire a corpse. Very bad employment prospects for people who are dead.”

By Monday night, the city seemed to be in listening mode. The streets were emptying out, silent in hibernation.

“It’s like a Sunday in the 1950s,” said Mark Rubbo, the owner of Readings, Melbourne’s largest independent bookstore. He also noted that people were stocking up again on books through online orders, with a memoir called “The Happiest Man on Earth,” about a Holocaust survivor, becoming a runaway hit.

Ms. Von Tessle Roberts has found another solution, perhaps just as likely to grow in popularity: Stand on your front porch and scream. That’s the name she has given to an event she posted on Facebook, set for Friday at 7 p.m. By Tuesday afternoon, 70,000 people had expressed an interest in joining her collective shout in anguish.

“Yelling is great,” she said. “It’s less dehydrating than crying.”

Image

Credit...Erik Anderson/EPA, via Shutterstock

_________________________________________________________

Besha Rodell and Yan Zhuang contributed reporting from Melbourne, and Livia Albeck-Ripka from Cairns, Australia.

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[blackkudos]

Harold Washington

Harold Lee Washington (April 15, 1922 – November 25, 1987) was an American lawyer and politician who was the 51st Mayor of Chicago. Washington became the first African American to be elected as the city's mayor in February 1983. He served as mayor from April 29, 1983 until his death on November 25, 1987. Born in Chicago and raised in the Bronzeville neighborhood, Washington became involved in local 3rd Ward politics under Chicago Alderman and future Congressman Ralph Metcalfe after graduating from Roosevelt University and Northwestern University School of Law. Washington was a member of the U.S. House of Representatives from 1981 to 1983, representing Illinois's first district. Washington had previously served in the Illinois State Senate and the Illinois House of Representatives from 1965 until 1976.

Biography

Ancestry

The earliest known ancestor of Harold Lee Washington, Isam/Isham Washington, was born a slave in 1832 in North Carolina. In 1864 he enlisted in the 8th United States Colored Heavy Artillery, Company L, in Paducah, Kentucky. Following his discharge in 1866, he began farming with his wife Rebecca Neal in Ballard County, Kentucky. Among their six children was Isam/Isom McDaniel (Mack) Washington, who was born in 1875. In 1896, Mack Washington had married Arbella Weeks of Massac County, who had been born in Mississippi in 1878. In 1897, their first son, Roy L. Washington, father of Mayor Washington was born in Ballard County, Kentucky. In 1903, shortly after both families moved to Massac County, Illinois, the elder Washington died. After farming for a time, Mack Washington became a minister in the African Methodist Episcopal (A.M.E.) Church, serving numerous churches in Illinois until the death of his wife in 1952. Reverend I.M.D. Washington died in 1953.

Early life and education

Harold Lee Washington was born on April 15, 1922 at Cook County Hospital in Chicago, Illinois, to Roy and Bertha Washington. While still in high school in Lawrenceville, Illinois, Roy met Bertha from nearby Carrier Mills and the two married in 1916 in Harrisburg, Illinois. Their first son, Roy Jr., was born in Carrier Mills before the family moved to Chicago where Roy enrolled in Kent College of Law. A lawyer, he became one of the first black precinct captains in the city, and a Methodist minister. In 1918, daughter Geneva was born and second son Edward was born in 1920. Bertha left the family, possibly to seek her fortune as a singer, and the couple divorced in 1928. Bertha remarried and had seven more children including Ramon Price, who was an artist and eventually became chief curator of The DuSable Museum of African American History. Harold Washington grew up in Bronzeville, a Chicago neighborhood that was the center of black culture for the entire Midwest in the early and middle 20th century. Edward and Harold stayed with their father while Roy Jr and Geneva were cared by grandparents. After attending St Benedict the Moor Boarding School in Milwaukee from 1928 to 1932, Washington attended DuSable High School, then a newly established racially segregated public high school, and was a member of its first graduating class. In a 1939 citywide track meet, Washington placed first in the 110-meter high hurdles event, and second in the 220-meter low hurdles event. Between his junior and senior year of high school, Washington dropped out, claiming that he no longer felt challenged by the coursework. He worked at a meatpacking plant for a time before his father helped him get a job at the U.S. Treasury branch in the city. There he met Nancy Dorothy Finch, whom he married soon after; Washington was 19 years old and Dorothy was 17 years old. Seven months later, the U.S. was drawn into World War II with the bombing of Pearl Harbor by the Japanese on Sunday, December 7, 1941.

Military service

In 1942, Washington was drafted into the United States Army for the war effort and after basic training, sent overseas as part of a racially segregated unit of the U.S. Army Air Corps unit of Engineers. After the American invasion of the Philippines in 1944, on Leyte Island and later the main Luzon island, Washington was part of a unit building runways for bombers, protective fighter aircraft, refueling planes, and returning damaged aircraft. Eventually, Washington rose to the rank of First Sergeant in the Army Air Corps (later in the war renamed the U.S. Army Air Forces).

Roosevelt College

In the summer of 1946, Washington, aged 24 and a war veteran, enrolled at Roosevelt College (now Roosevelt University). Washington joined other groups of students not permitted to enroll in other local colleges. Local estimates placed the student population of Roosevelt College at about 1/8 black and 1/2 Jewish. A full 75% of the students had enrolled because of the "nondiscriminatory progressive principles." He chaired a fund-raising drive by students, and then was named to a committee that supported citywide efforts to outlaw "restrictive covenants" in housing, the legal means by which minorities (especially blacks ("negroes") and, to a lesser extent, Jews) were prohibited from purchasing real estate in predominantly white neighborhoods of the city.

In 1948, after the college had moved to the Auditorium Building, Washington was elected the third president of Roosevelt's student council. Under his leadership, the student council successfully petitioned the college to have student representation on Roosevelt's faculty committees. At the first regional meeting of the newly founded National Student Association in the spring of 1948, Washington and nine other delegates proposed student representation on college faculties, and a "Bill of Rights" for students; both measures were roundly defeated. The next year, Washington went to the state capital at Springfield to protest Illinois legislators' coming probe of "subversives". The probe of investigation would outlaw the Communist Party and require "loyalty oaths" for teachers. He led students' opposition to the bills, although they would pass later in 1949.

During his Roosevelt College years, Washington came to be known for his stability. His friends said that he had a "remarkable ability to keep cool", reason carefully and walk a middle line. Washington intentionally avoided extremist activities, including street actions and sit-ins against racially segregated restaurants and businesses. Overall, Washington and other radical activists ended up sharing a mutual respect for each other, acknowledging both Washington's pragmatism and the activists' idealism. With the opportunities found only at Roosevelt College in the late 1940s, Washington's time at the Roosevelt College proved to be pivotal. Washington graduated in August 1949, with a Bachelor of Arts (B.A.) degree. In addition to his activities at Roosevelt, he was a member of Phi Beta Sigma fraternity.

Northwestern University School of Law

Washington then applied and was admitted to study law at the Northwestern University School of Law in Chicago. During this time, Washington was divorced from Dorothy Finch. By some accounts, Harold and Dorothy had simply grown apart after Washington was sent overseas during the war during the first year of his marriage. Others saw both as young and headstrong, the relationship doomed from the beginning. Another friend of Washington's deemed Harold "not the marrying kind." He would not marry again, but continued to have relationships with other women; his longtime secretary is said to have said, "If every woman Harold slept with stood at one end of City Hall, the building would sink five inches into LaSalle Street!".

At Northwestern Law School, Washington was the only black student in his class (there were six women in the class, one of them being Dawn Clark Netsch). As at Roosevelt, he entered school politics. In 1951, his last year, he was elected treasurer of the Junior Bar Association (JBA). The election was largely symbolic, however, and Washington's attempts to give the JBA more authority at Northwestern were largely unsuccessful. On campus, Washington joined the Nu Beta Epsilon fraternity, largely because he and the other minorities which constituted the fraternity were blatantly excluded from the other fraternities on campus. Overall, Washington stayed away from the activism that defined his years at Roosevelt. During the evenings and weekends, he worked to supplement his GI Bill income. He received his JD in 1952.

Legislative political career

Working for Metcalfe (1951–1965)

From 1951 until he was first slated for election in 1965, Washington worked in the offices of the 3rd Ward Alderman, former Olympic athlete Ralph Metcalfe. Richard J. Daley was elected party chairman in 1952. Daley replaced C.C. Wimbush, an ally of William Dawson, on the party committee with Metcalfe. Under Metcalfe, the 3rd Ward was a critical factor in Mayor Daley's 1955 mayoral election victory and ranked first in the city in the size of its Democratic plurality in 1961. While working under Metcalfe, Washington began to organize the 3rd Ward's Young Democrats (YD) organization. At YD conventions, the 3rd Ward would push for numerous resolutions in the interest of blacks. Eventually, other black YD organizations would come to the 3rd Ward headquarters for advice on how to run their own organizations. Like he had at Roosevelt College, Washington avoided radicalism and preferred to work through the party to engender change.

While working with the Young Democrats, Washington met Mary Ella Smith. They dated for the next 20 years, and in 1983 Washington proposed to Smith. In an interview with the Chicago Sun-Times, Smith said that she never pressed Washington for marriage because she knew Washington's first love was politics, saying, "He was a political animal. He thrived on it, and I knew any thoughts of marriage would have to wait. I wasn't concerned about that. I just knew the day would come."

In 1959 Al Janney, Gus Savage, Lemuel Bentley, Bennett Johnson, Luster Jackson and others founded the Chicago League of Negro Voters, one of the first African-American political organizations in the city. In its first election, Bentley drew 60,000 votes for city clerk. The endorsement of the League was deciding factor in the re-election of Leon DesPres who was an independent voice in the City Council. Washington was a close friend of the founders of the League and worked with them from time to time. The League was key in electing Anna Langford, William Cousins and A. A. "Sammy" Rayner who were not part of the Daley machine. In 1963 the group moved to racially integrate and formed Protest at the Polls at a citywide conference which Washington independent candidates had gained traction within the black community, winning several aldermanic seats. In 1983, Protest at the Polls was instrumental in Washington's run for mayor. By then, the YDs were losing to independent candidates.

Illinois House (1965–1976)

After the state legislature failed to reapportion districts as required by the census every ten years, an at-large election was held in January 1965 to elect 177 representatives. With the Republicans and Democrats combining to slate only 118 candidates, independent voting groups seized the opportunity to slate candidates. The League of Negro Voters created a "Third Slate" of 59 candidates, announcing the slate on June 27, 1964. Shortly afterwards, Daley put together a slate including Adlai Stevenson III and Washington. The Third Slate was then thrown out by the Illinois Election Board because of "insufficient signatures" on the nominating petitions. In the election, Washington received the second-largest amount of ballots, behind Stevenson. Washington's years in the Illinois House were marked by tension with Democratic Party leadership. In 1967, he was ranked by the Independent Voters of Illinois (IVI) as the fourth-most independent legislator in the Illinois House and named Best Legislator of the Year. His defiance of the "idiot card", a sheet of paper that directed legislators' votes on every issue, attracted the attention of party leaders, who moved to remove Washington from his legislative position. Daley often told Metcalfe to dump Washington as a candidate, but Metcalfe did not want to risk losing the 3rd Ward's Young Democrats, who were mostly aligned with Washington.

Washington backed Renault Robinson, a black police officer and one of the founders of the Afro-American Patrolmen's League (AAPL). The aim of the AAPL was to fight racism directed against minority officers by the rest of the predominantly white department. Soon after the creation of the group, Robinson was written up for minor infractions, suspended, reinstated, and then placed on the graveyard shift to a single block behind central police headquarters. Robinson approached Washington to fashion a bill creating a civilian review board, consisting of both patrolmen and officers, to monitor police brutality. Both black independent and white liberal legislators refused to back the bill, afraid to challenge Daley's grip on the police force.

After Washington announced he would support the AAPL, Metcalfe refused to protect him from Daley. Washington believed he had the support of John Touhy, Speaker of the House and a former party chair. Instead, Touhy criticized Washington and then allayed Daley's anger. In exchange for the party's backing, Washington would serve on the Chicago Crime Commission, the group Daley formed to investigate the AAPL's charges. The commission promptly found the AAPL's charges "unwarranted". An angry and humiliated Washington admitted that on the commission, he felt like Daley's "showcase ni***r". In 1969, Daley removed Washington's name from the slate; only by the intervention of Cecil Partee, a party loyalist, was Washington reinstated. The Democratic Party supported Jim Taylor, a former professional boxer, Streets and Sanitation worker, over Washington. With Partee and his own ward's support, Washington defeated Taylor. His years in the House of Representatives were focused on becoming an advocate for black rights. He continued work on the Fair Housing Act, and worked to strengthen the state's Fair Employment Practices Commission (FEPC). In addition, he worked on a state Civil Rights Act, which would strengthen employment and housing provisions in the federal Civil Rights Act of 1964. In his first session, all of his bills were sent to committee or tabled. Like his time in Roosevelt College, Washington relied on parliamentary tactics (e.g., writing amendments guaranteed to fail in a vote) to enable him to bargain for more concessions.

Washington was accused of failure to file a tax return, even though the tax was paid. He was found guilty and sentenced to 36 days in jail. (1971)

Washington also passed bills honoring civil rights figures. He passed a resolution honoring Metcalfe, his mentor. He also passed a resolution honoring James J. Reeb, a Unitarian minister who was beaten to death in Selma, Alabama by a segregationist mob. After the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., he introduced a series of bills aimed at making King's birthday a state holiday. The first was tabled and later vetoed. The third bill he introduced, which was passed and signed Gov. Richard Ogilvie, made Dr. King's birthday a commemorative day observed by Illinois public schools. It was not until 1973 that Washington was able, with Partee's help in the Senate, to have the bill enacted and signed by the governor.

1975 speakership campaign

Washington ran a largely symbolic campaign for Speaker. He only received votes from himself and from Lewis A. H. Caldwell. However, with a divided Democratic caucus, this was enough to help deny Daley-backed Clyde Choate the nomination, helping to throw it to William A. Redmond after 92 rounds of voting.

Redmond had Washington appointed as chairman of the Judiciary Committee.

Illinois Senate (1976–1980)Campaign for Illinois Senate

In 1975, Partee, now President of the Senate and eligible for his pension, decided to retire from the Senate. Although Daley and Taylor declined at first, at Partee's insistence, Washington was ultimately slated for the seat and received the party's support. Daley had been displeased with Washington for having run a symbolic challenge in 1975 to Daley-backed Clyde Choate for Illinois Speaker of the House (Washington had only received two votes). He had also helped ultimately push the vote towards Redmond as a compromise candidate. The United Automobile Workers union, whose backing Washington obtained, were critical in persuading Daley to relent to back his candidacy.

Washington defeated Anna Langford by nearly 2,000 votes in the Democratic primary. He went on to win the general election.

Human Rights Act of 1980

In the Illinois Senate, Washington's main focus worked to pass 1980's Illinois Human Rights Act. Legislators rewrote all of the human rights laws in the state, restricting discrimination based on "race, color, religion, sex, national origin, ancestry, age, marital status, physical or mental disability, military status, sexual orientation, or unfavorable discharge from military service in connection with employment, real estate transactions, access to financial credit, and the availability of public accommodations." The bill's origins began in 1970 with the rewriting of the Illinois Constitution. The new constitution required all governmental agencies and departments to be reorganized for efficiency. Republican governor James R. Thompson reorganized low-profile departments before his re-election in 1978. In 1979, during the early stages of his second term and immediately in the aftermath of the largest vote for a gubernatorial candidate in the state's history, Thompson called for human rights reorganization. The bill would consolidate and remove some agencies, eliminating a number of political jobs. Some Democratic legislators would oppose any measure backed by Washington, Thompson and Republican legislators.

For many years, human rights had been a campaign issue brought up and backed by Democrats. Thompson's staffers brought the bill to Washington and other black legislators before it was presented to the legislature. Washington made adjustments in anticipation of some legislators' concerns regarding the bill, before speaking for it in April 1979. On May 24, 1979, the bill passed the Senate by a vote of 59 to 1, with two voting present and six absent. The victory in the Senate was attributed by a Thompson staffer to Washington's "calm noncombative presentation". However, the bill stalled in the House. State Representative Susan Catania insisted on attaching an amendment to allow women guarantees in the use of credit cards. This effort was assisted by Carol Moseley Braun, a representative from Hyde Park who would later go on to serve as a U.S. Senator. State Representatives Jim Taylor and Larry Bullock introduced over one hundred amendments, including the text of the first ten amendments to the U.S. Constitution, to try to stall the bill. With Catania's amendment, the bill passed the House, but the Senate refused to accept the amendment. On June 30, 1979, the legislature adjourned.

U.S. House (1981–1983)

In 1980, Washington was elected to the U.S. House of Representatives in Illinois's 1st congressional district. He defeated incumbent Representative Bennett Stewart in the Democratic primary. Anticipating that the Democratic Party would challenge him in his bid for re-nomination in 1982, Washington spent much of his first term campaigning for re-election, often travelling back to Chicago to campaign. Washington missed many House votes, an issue that would come up in his campaign for mayor in 1983. Washington's major congressional accomplishment involved legislation to extend the Voting Rights Act, legislation that opponents had argued was only necessary in an emergency. Others, including Congressman Henry Hyde, had submitted amendments designed to seriously weaken the power of the Voting Rights Act.

Although he had been called "crazy" for railing in the House of Representatives against deep cuts to social programs, Associated Press political reporter Mike Robinson noted that Washington worked "quietly and thoughtfully" as the time came to pass the act. During hearings in the South regarding the Voting Rights Act, Washington asked questions that shed light on tactics used to prevent African Americans from voting (among them, closing registration early, literacy tests, and gerrymandering). After the amendments were submitted on the floor, Washington spoke from prepared speeches that avoided rhetoric and addressed the issues. As a result, the amendments were defeated, and Congress passed the Voting Rights Act Extension. By the time Washington faced re-election in 1982, he had cemented his popularity in the 1st Congressional District. Jane Byrne could not find one serious candidate to run against Washington for his re-election campaign. He had collected 250,000 signatures to get on the ballot, although only 610 signatures (0.5% of the voters in the previous election) were required. With his re-election to Congress locked up, Washington turned his attention to the next Chicago mayoral election.

Mayor of Chicago (1983–1987)

1983 election

In the February 22, 1983, Democratic mayoral primary, more than 100,000 new voters registered to vote led by a coalition that included the Latino reformed gang Young Lords led by Jose Cha Cha Jimenez. On the North and Northwest Sides, the incumbent mayor Jane Byrne led and future mayor Richard M. Daley, son of the late Mayor Richard J. Daley, finished a close second. Harold Washington had massive majorities on the South and West Sides. Southwest Side voters overwhelmingly supported Daley. Washington won with 37% of the vote, versus 33% for Byrne and 30% for Daley. Although winning the Democratic primary was normally considered tantamount to election in heavily Democratic Chicago, after his primary victory Washington found that his Republican opponent, former state legislator Bernard Epton (earlier considered a nominal stand-in), was supported by many high-ranking Democrats and their ward organizations, including the chairman of the Cook County Democratic Party, Alderman Edward Vrdolyak.

Epton's campaign referred to, among other things, Washington's conviction for failure to file income tax returns (he had paid the taxes, but had not filed a return). Washington, on the other hand, stressed reforming the Chicago patronage system and the need for a jobs program in a tight economy. In the April 12, 1983, mayoral general election, Washington defeated Epton by 3.7%, 51.7% to 48.0%, to become mayor of Chicago. Washington was sworn in as mayor on April 29, 1983, and resigned his Congressional seat the following day.

First term and Council Wars

During his tenure as mayor, Washington lived at the Hampton House apartments in the Hyde Park neighborhood of Chicago. He created the city's first environmental-affairs department under the management of longtime Great Lakes environmentalist Lee Botts. Washington's first term in office was characterized by conflict with the city council dubbed "Council Wars", referring to the then-recent Star Wars films and caused Chicago to be nicknamed "Beirut on the Lake". A 29-alderman City Council majority refused to enact Washington's legislation and prevented him from appointing nominees to boards and commissions. First-term challenges included city population loss and a massive decrease in ridership on the Chicago Transit Authority (CTA). Assertions that the overall crime rate increased were incorrect.

The 29, also known as the "Vrdolyak 29", were led by Vrdolyak (who was an Alderman in addition to Cook County Democratic Party chairman) and Finance Chair, Alderman Edward Burke. Parks superintendent Edmund Kelly also opposed the mayor. The three were known as "the Eddies" and were supported by the younger Daley (now State's Attorney), U.S. Congressmen Dan Rostenkowski and William Lipinski, and much of the Democratic Party. During his first city council meeting, Washington and the 21 supportive aldermen walked out of the meeting after a quorum had been established. Vrdolyak and the other 28 then chose committee chairmen and assigned aldermen to the various committees. Later lawsuits submitted by Washington and others were dismissed because it was determined that the appointments were legally made. Washington ruled by veto. The 29 lacked the 30th vote they needed to override Washington's veto; female and African American aldermen supported Washington despite pressure from the Eddies. Meanwhile, in the courts, Washington kept the pressure on to reverse the redistricting of city council wards that the city council had created during the Byrne years. During special elections in 1986, victorious Washington-backed candidates in the first round ensured at least 24 supporters in the city council. Six weeks later, when Marlene Carter and Luís Gutiérrez won run-off elections, Washington had the 25 aldermen he needed. His vote as president of the City Council enabled him to break 25–25 tie-votes and enact his programs.

1987 election

Washington defeated former mayor Jane Byrne in the February 24, 1987 Democratic mayoral primary by 7.2%, 53.5% to 46.3%, and in the April 7, 1987 mayoral general election defeated Vrdolyak (Illinois Solidarity Party) by 11.8%, 53.8% to 42.8%, with Northwestern University business professor Donald Haider (Republican) getting 4.3%, to win reelection to a second term as mayor. Cook County Assessor Thomas Hynes (Chicago First Party), a Daley ally, dropped out of the race 36 hours before the mayoral general election. During Washington's short second term, the Eddies lost much of their power: Vrdolyak became a Republican, Kelly was removed from his powerful parks post, and Burke lost his Finance Committee chairmanship.

Political Education Project (PEP)

From March 1984 to 1987, the Political Education Project (PEP) served as Washington's political arm, organizing both Washington's campaigns and the campaigns of his political allies. Harold Washington established the Political Education Project in 1984. This organization supported Washington's interests in electoral politics beyond the Office of the Mayor. PEP helped organize political candidates for statewide elections in 1984 and managed Washington's participation in the 1984 Democratic National Convention as a "favorite son" presidential candidate. PEP used its political connections to support candidates such as Luis Gutiérrez and Jesús "Chuy" García through field operations, voter registration and Election Day poll monitoring. Once elected, these aldermen helped break the stalemate between Washington and his opponents in the city council. Due to PEP's efforts, Washington's City Council legislation gained ground and his popularity grew as the 1987 mayoral election approached. In preparation for the 1987 mayoral election, PEP formed the Committee to Re-Elect Mayor Washington. This organization carried out fundraising for the campaign, conducted campaign events, and coordinated volunteers. PEP staff members, such as Joseph Gardner and Helen Shiller, went on to play leading roles in Chicago politics.

The organization disbanded upon Harold Washington's death. Harold Washington's Political Education Project Records is an archival collection detailing the organization's work. It is located in the Chicago Public Library Special Collections, Harold Washington Library Center, Chicago, Illinois.

Legal issues

In addition to Daley's strong-arm tactics, Washington's time in the Illinois House was also marred by problems with tax returns and allegations of not performing services owed to his clients. In her biography, Levinsohn questions whether the timing of Washington's legal troubles was politically motivated. In November 1966, Washington was re-elected to the House over Daley's strong objections; the first complaint was filed in 1964; the second was filed by January 1967. A letter asking Washington to explain the matter was sent on January 5, 1967. After failing to respond to numerous summons and subpoenas, the commission recommend a five-year suspension on March 18, 1968. A formal response to the charges did not occur until July 10, 1969. In his reply, Washington said that "sometimes personal problems are enlarged out of proportion to the entire life picture at the time and the more important things are abandoned." In 1970, the Board of Managers of the Chicago Bar Association ruled that Washington's license be suspended for only one year, not the five recommended; the total amount in question between all six clients was $205.

In 1971, Washington was charged with failure to file tax returns for four years, although the Internal Revenue Service (IRS) claimed to have evidence for nineteen years. Judge Sam Perry noted that he was "disturbed that this case ever made it to my courtroom" — while Washington had paid his taxes, he ended up owing the government a total of $508 as a result of not filing his returns. Typically, the IRS handled such cases in civil court, or within its bureaucracy. Washington pleaded "no contest" and was sentenced to forty days in Cook County Jail, a $1,000 fine, and three years of probation.

Death and funeral

On November 25, 1987, at 11:00 am, Chicago Fire Department paramedics were called to City Hall. Washington's press secretary, Alton Miller, had been discussing school board issues with the mayor when Washington suddenly slumped over on his desk, falling unconscious. After failing to revive Washington in his office, paramedics rushed him to Northwestern Memorial Hospital. Further attempts to revive him failed, and Washington was pronounced dead at 1:36 pm At Daley Plaza, Patrick Keen, project director for the Westside Habitat for Humanity, announced Washington's official time of death to a separate gathering of Chicagoans. Initial reactions to the pronouncement of his death were of shock and sadness, as many blacks believed that Washington was the only top Chicago official who would address their concerns. Thousands of Chicagoans attended his wake in the lobby of City Hall between November 27 and 29, 1987. On November 30, 1987, Reverend B. Herbert Martin officiated Washington's funeral service in Christ Universal Temple at 119th Street and Ashland Avenue in Chicago. After the service, Washington was buried in Oak Woods Cemetery on the South Side of Chicago.

Rumors

Immediately after Washington's death, rumors about how Washington died began to surface. On January 6, 1988, Dr. Antonio Senat, Washington's personal physician, denied "unfounded speculations" that Washington had cocaine in his system at the time of his death, or that foul play was involved. Cook County Medical Examiner Robert J. Stein performed an autopsy on Washington and concluded that Washington had died of a heart attack. Washington had weighed 284 pounds (129 kg), and suffered from hypertension, high cholesterol levels, and an enlarged heart. On June 20, 1988, Alton Miller again indicated that drug reports on Washington had come back negative, and that Washington had not been poisoned prior to his death. Dr. Stein stated that the only drug in Washington's system had been lidocaine, which is used to stabilize the heart after a heart attack takes place. The drug was given to Washington either by paramedics or by doctors at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. Bernard Epton, Washington's opponent in the 1983 general election, died 18 days later, on December 13, 1987.

Legacy

At a party held shortly after his re-election on April 7, 1987, Washington said to a group of supporters, "In the old days, when you told people in other countries that you were from Chicago, they would say, 'Boom-boom! Rat-a-tat-tat!' Nowadays, they say [crowd joins with him], 'How's Harold?'!"

In later years, various city facilities and institutions were named or renamed after the late mayor to commemorate his legacy. The new building housing the main branch of the Chicago Public Library, located at 400 South State Street, was named the Harold Washington Library Center. The Chicago Public Library Special Collections, located on the building's 9th floor, house the Harold Washington Archives and Collections. These archives hold numerous collections related to Washington's life and political career.

Five months after Washington's sudden death in office, a ceremony was held on April 19, 1988, changing the name of Loop College, one of the City Colleges of Chicago, to Harold Washington College. Harold Washington Elementary School in Chicago's Chatham neighborhood is also named after the former mayor. In August 2004, the 40,000-square-foot (3,700 m2) Harold Washington Cultural Center opened to the public in the Bronzeville neighborhood. Across from the Hampton House apartments where Washington lived, a city park was renamed Harold Washington Park, which was known for "Harold's Parakeets", a colony of feral monk parakeets that inhabited Ash Trees in the park. A building on the campus of Chicago State University is named Harold Washington Hall.

Six months after Washington's death, School of the Art Institute of Chicago student David Nelson painted Mirth & Girth, a full-length portrait depicting Washington wearing women's lingerie. The work was unveiled on May 11, 1988, opening day of SAIC's annual student exhibition. Within hours, City aldermen and members of the Chicago Police Department seized the painting. It was later returned, but with a five-inch (13 cm) gash in the canvas. Nelson, assisted by the ACLU, filed a federal lawsuit against the city, claiming that the painting's confiscation and subsequent damaging violated his First Amendment rights. The complainants eventually split a US$95,000 (1994, US$138,000 in 2008) settlement from the city.