#San Francisco Women's Building

[likeniobe]

the cornell university library has digitized its really incredible 2022 exhibition “radical desire: making on our backs magazine”––cannot recommend strongly enough taking a look at the fascinating and funny and sexy and bittersweet collection of materials curated here 

On Our Backs magazine launched in San Francisco in 1984 promising, per the tagline on the cover, “entertainment for the adventurous lesbian.” The photographic images on the cover and throughout were central to its mandate to deliver sexual content for lesbians. The photography also created the greatest difficulties for the magazine’s circulation at a moment when many feminist leaders decried pornographic photographs and film as a form of violence against women. This exhibition presents original photographs created for On Our Backs during its first decade. Made by staffers and freelancers, professionals and amateurs, members of the magazine’s inner circle and its far-flung readership, they convey the fantasies, imagination, humor, rigor, radicalism, political engagement, and ethos of community-building and inclusion that defined On Our Backs and made it a touchstone in the queer press. Additional photographs and documents elucidate the political and erotic contexts into which the magazine emerged, the women behind it, and their business practices and strategies. All materials are drawn from Cornell Library’s Human Sexuality Collection.

Exhibition curators: Kate Addleman-Frankel, Gary and Ellen Davis Curator of Photography, Johnson Museum of Art, and Brenda Marston, Curator of the Human Sexuality Collection, Division of Rare and Manuscript Collections.

[muddypolitics]

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(via Linda Ronstadt | A Statement From Linda Ronstadt Sept. 11, 2024 San Francisco| Instagram)

A Statement From Linda Ronstadt Sept. 11, 2024 San Francisco Donald Trump is holding a rally on Thursday in a rented hall in my hometown, Tucson. I would prefer to ignore that sad fact. But since the building has my name on it, I need to say something. It saddens me to see the former President bring his hate show to Tucson, a town with deep Mexican-American roots and a joyful, tolerant spirit. I don’t just deplore his toxic politics, his hatred of women, immigrants and people of color, his criminality, dishonesty and ignorance — although there’s that. For me it comes down to this:  In Nogales and across the southern border, the Trump Administration systematically ripped apart migrant families seeking asylum. Family separation made orphans of thousands of little children and babies, and brutalized their desperate mothers and fathers. It remains a humanitarian catastrophe that Physicians for Human Rights said met the criteria for torture. There is no forgiving or forgetting the heartbreak he caused. Trump first ran for President warning about rapists coming in from Mexico. I’m worried about keeping the rapist out of the White House. Linda Ronstadt P.S. to J.D. Vance: I raised two adopted children in Tucson as a single mom. They are both grown and living in their own houses. I live with a cat. Am I half a childless cat lady because I’m unmarried and didn’t give birth to my kids? Call me what you want, but this cat lady will be voting proudly in November for @kamalaharris and @timwalz .

[mesetacadre]

When the Red Army entered Korea in early August, 1945, heavy battles took place in the north, but the Japanese rule remained tranquil in the south, for the Russians stopped by the Yalta agreement at the 38th parallel, while the Americans came several weeks after the surrender of Japan, and ruled at first through the Japanese and then through the Japanese-appointed Korean officials and police. So naturally all of the pro-Japanese Koreans – former police and officials, landlords and stockholders in Japanese companies – fled south to the American zone. The flight of all these right-wing elements amazingly simplified North Korean politics. The Russians did not have to set up any left-wing government, assuming that they wanted one. They merely set free some ten thousand political prisoners and said, by implication; “Go home, boys, you’re free to organize.” Under Japanese rule all natural political leaders either served Japan or went to jail. With the pro-Japanese gone, the ex-jailbirds became the vindicated heroes of their home towns. They were all radicals of sorts, including many Communists. Anyone who knows what a tremendous reception was given to Tom Mooney when he was released to come home to the workers of San Francisco, may imagine the effect on the small towns and villages when ten thousand of these political martyrs came home. North Korea just naturally took a great swing leftwards, and the Russians had only to recognize “the choice of the Korean people.” People’s Committees sprang up in villages, counties, and provinces and coalesced into a provisional government under the almost legendary guerrilla leader Kim Il Sung. Farmers organized, demanded the land from the landlords and got it in twenty-one days by a government decree. (Compared to the land reforms of other countries, this sounds like a tale of Aladdin’s lamp!) Ninety per cent of all big industry – it had belonged to Japanese concerns – was handed over by the Russians “to the Korean people” and nationalized by one more decree. Trade unions organized, demanded a modern labor code, and got it without any trouble from their new government, with the eight-hour day, abolition of child labor, and social insurance all complete. Another decree made women equal with men in all spheres of activity and another expanded schools. Then general elections were held and a “democratic front” of three parties swept unopposed to power. The natural opposition had all gone south, to be sheltered – and put in power – by the Americans. This is the, reason, I think, for the almost exaggerated sense of “people’s power” that the North Koreans express. Their real class struggle is coming; it hasn’t fully hit them yet. The reactionaries all fled south, where they are bloodily suppressing strikes. In North Korea the farmers are building new houses and buying radios because they no longer pay land rent, while the workers are taking vacations in former Japanese villas. The North Koreans assume that this is just what naturally happens when once you are a “liberated land.” “They aren’t yet liberated down south,” they told me. “The Americans let those pro-Japanese traitors stay in power.”

In North Korea: First Eye-Witness Reports, Anna Louise Strong, 1949

[fdelopera]

Harvey Milk understood intersectionality

… and now the Queer community is SPITTING on his legacy by attacking Queer Jews, and coalitioning with far-right religious extremists

Harvey Milk was a gay Jewish civil rights leader in San Francisco. He was the first openly gay man to be elected to public office in California, as a member of the San Francisco Board of Supervisors.

On November 10, 1978 (10 months after being sworn into office), Harvey Milk was assassinated by a far-right religious extremist named Dan White.

In the months leading up to Harvey Milk's murder at the hands of a religious extremist, Harvey Milk gave his famous "Hope" speech. In his speech, he talks about the intersectional "Us's" who need to work together to overcome bigotry.

Now the Queer Community is SPITTING on Harvey Milk's legacy by coalitioning NOT with other "Us's", but instead with Hamas, the Houthis, and the Islamic Republic of Iran.

These terrorist organizations are all FAR-RIGHT RELIGIOUS EXTREMIST CULTS.

These cults MURDER queer people.

These far-right religious extremist cults are a thousand times WORSE than far-right religious extremist cults like the Westboro Baptist Church that attack queer people across the US.

Hamas is a CULT that MURDERS queer Gazans. Hamas throws queer people off buildings, stones queer people to death, and shoots queer people in the head.

The Houthis are a CULT that just CRUCIFIED several gay men for being gay.

And the Islamic Republic of Iran is a CULT that TORTURES queer people to death and EXECUTES them for being gay. The Islamic Republic also MURDERS women for the "crime" of showing their hair in public, or even wearing their Hijab "wrong."

And these are the FAR-RIGHT RELIGIOUS EXTREMIST CULTS that the Queer Community is getting into bed with.

These are the FAR-RIGHT RELIGIOUS EXTREMIST CULTS that the Queer Community is uplifting.

And in doing so, the Queer Community is SPITTING on Harvey Milk's legacy.

Harvey Milk, a gay Jewish man, did not GIVE HIS LIFE FOR YOUR FREEDOMS so that you could turn around and attack Queer Jews.

You Hamasniks are PERVERTING the Queer Rights Movement.

You are acting as a TROJAN HORSE, allowing people aligned with far-right religious extremist cults into Queer Spaces.

Here is the text of Harvey Milk's "Hope" speech.

THIS is how you do intersectionality, you bigots.

LEARN FROM OUR QUEER ELDERS. AND WAKE THE FUCK UP.

"Somewhere in Des Moines or San Antonio there is a young gay person who all of a sudden realizes that he or she is gay; knows that if their parents find out they will be tossed out of the house, their classmates will taunt the child, and the Anita Bryant's and John Briggs' are doing their part on TV. "And that child has several options: staying in the closet, and suicide. And then one day that child might open the paper that says 'Homosexual elected in San Francisco' and there are two new options: the option is to go to California, or stay in San Antonio and fight. Two days after I was elected I got a phone call and the voice was quite young. It was from Altoona, Pennsylvania. And the person said 'Thanks'. And you've got to elect gay people; so that thousands upon thousands like that child know that there is hope for a better world; there is hope for a better tomorrow. Without hope, not only gays, but those who are blacks, the Asians, the disabled, the seniors, the Us's; without hope the Us's give up. "I know that you can't live on hope alone, but without it, life is not worth living. And you, and you, and you, and you have got to give them hope."

[mydaddywiki]

Pierre Salinger

Physique: Husky Build Height: 5’ 6" (1.68 m)

Pierre Emil George Salinger (June 14, 1925 – October 16, 2004; aged 79) was an American journalist, author and politician. He served as the ninth press secretary for United States Presidents John F. Kennedy and Lyndon B. Johnson. Salinger served as a United States Senator in 1964 and as campaign manager for the 1968 Robert F. Kennedy presidential campaign. After leaving politics, Salinger became known for his work as an ABC News correspondent.

An affable cigar smoker with his bushy eyebrows who he became the first presidential spokesman to become a celebrity in his own right. A piano prodigy, who spoke fluent French, had a zest for music, art, poetry, wine, women and fine food. A real cultured and classy guy who’d probably love to be broken down properly by an uncultured guy like me. And by “broken down properly”, I mean giving Salinger THE DICK. HARD. Because I so would.

Born, raised, and educated in San Francisco. He interrupted his undergraduate studies at San Francisco State College in 1943 to enlist in the U.S. Navy and command a "subchaser" in the Pacific Theater. After completing his service in 1946, he joined the editorial staff of The San Francisco Chronicle and the journalism faculty at nearby Mills College.

Married four times with four children (3 with his first wife and 1 with his third one), Salinger died from heart failure at the age of 79 on October 16, 2004 in Le Thor, Vaucluse, France. Apparently, President Kennedy and Salinger enjoyed a close relationship. Nothing salacious, but I like to image a sorid version where Kennedy was fucking Salinger on the DL.

[ngdrb]

Kamala Harris' Rise to Prominence and

Political Vision

Background and Achievements

Kamala Harris is the current Vice President of the United States, making history as the first woman, first Black American, and first South Asian American to hold the position. Her rise to prominence is marked by a series of notable achievements throughout her career in public service.

Harris was born in Oakland, California, to immigrant parents from India and Jamaica. After earning her law degree from the University of California, Hastings College of the Law, she began her career as a prosecutor in the Alameda County District Attorney's Office. She later served as the District Attorney of San Francisco from 2004 to 2011, and as the Attorney General of California from 2011 to 2017.

In 2016, Harris was elected to the United States Senate, becoming the second African American woman and the first South Asian American to serve in the Senate. During her tenure, she gained recognition for her work on issues such as healthcare reform, immigration reform, and criminal justice reform.

Political Vision and Proposed Policies

Kamala Harris' political vision revolves around promoting equality, justice, and opportunity for all Americans. Her proposed policies aim to address various critical issues facing the nation, including:

Women's Rights: Harris has been a vocal advocate for protecting and advancing women's rights, including reproductive rights and equal pay for equal work. She has pledged to fight against any efforts to roll back progress made in these areas.

Healthcare Reform: Harris has supported efforts to expand access to affordable healthcare, including protecting and strengthening the Affordable Care Act (ACA). She has also proposed measures to lower prescription drug costs and improve mental health services.

Climate Change: Harris recognizes the urgent need to address climate change and has proposed a comprehensive plan to transition the United States to a clean energy economy, including investing in renewable energy sources and promoting sustainable practices.

Immigration Reform: Harris supports comprehensive immigration reform that provides a pathway to citizenship for undocumented immigrants and addresses the root causes of migration, such as violence, poverty, and corruption in countries of origin.

Criminal Justice Reform: As a former prosecutor, Harris has advocated for reforms to the criminal justice system, including addressing racial disparities, reducing mass incarceration, and promoting rehabilitation and re-entry programs for formerly incarcerated individuals.

Potential Impact and Challenges

Kamala Harris' political vision and proposed policies have the potential to shape a more equitable and inclusive future for the United States. However, she may face significant challenges in implementing her agenda, particularly in a divided political landscape.

One of the key challenges Harris may face is navigating the complex relationship between the executive and legislative branches of government. Enacting significant policy changes often requires cooperation and compromise across party lines, which can be difficult to achieve in a polarized political environment.

Additionally, Harris' progressive policies may face opposition from more conservative factions who prioritize traditional values or have different economic and social priorities. Overcoming ideological divisions and building consensus on contentious issues will be crucial for the success of her agenda.

Despite these challenges, Harris' experience, determination, and commitment to her principles position her as a formidable figure in shaping the future direction of the United States. Her ability to inspire and unite diverse constituencies, coupled with her pragmatic approach to policymaking, could prove invaluable in navigating the complexities of the American political landscape.

[tomodchis]

you've been unkind to me in my dreams for years. over and over you get to not want me. over and over i get to be the dog at your heels. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎. . .  ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ،  ‎ ‎lev st. valentine

overview  ‎ ‎ ‎ ıllı ‎ ‎[ 🍀 ]    ‎♪ ҉     

(tomo)dachi — also stylized as DACHi or simply dachi — is a four piece co-ed group that debuted on july 27th, 2023 with bim bam bum. formed by the highly esteemed survival show lucky hour, they are praised for their vocals, storyline, and unique creative direction. the group’s consistent ‘cute’ sound has garnered them lots of attention. when asked if their sound ever got old after performing all day, every member was vehement in their positive answers.

dachi is managed by mystic story, an sm entertainment subsidiary. although dachi is not marketed as a sibling group of billlie, fans of both have drawn similarities between lore and wonder if it is all encapsulated within the same universe.

affectionately known by fans as an uneven group, the members of dachi are accustomed to curiousity. during the final episode of lucky hour, viewers were worried what type of dynamics would come out of a group with one man and three women. in fact, the group has been plagued with boycotts and unnecessary hate due to this. debut era was, arguably, the worst for the four of them, despite building up a strong fan base since episode one of lucky hour. the hate train has lessened with time — thanks to the multitude of viral moments, ambassador side jobs, etc — but twt comment sections are still filled with weirdos who use dachi as an example for… nothing in particular.

greeting ﹪  ❝ making new memories! hello, we are (tomo)dachi! ❞ fandom name ﹪  pockets fandom name meaning ﹪  fans are able to feel like they have the members in their pockets all the time, cheering them on genres ﹪  bubblegum pop, synthpop, electronic, dance years active ﹪  2023–present day

members ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ıllı ‎ [ 🏡 ]    ‎♪ ҉     

(홍제열) : hong jeyeol, 02 23 ‘97

. . . is a former child actor, model, and member of dachi. he’s been in the spotlight ever since he gained his ability to walk. thanks to his parents — hong siwan, movie director and angelina hong, supermodel — opportunities come incredibly easy. he decided to become an idol in his late teen years, rapidly switching companies before auditioning for sm and being moved to mystic story. jeyeol himself acknowledges his advantage among his peers. he frequently jokes about his place in dachi, saying how he rigged himself into the lineup with the help of his ‘mommy’s money’.

nicknames  ﹪  yeol, romeo, head of the sassy boy apocalypse identity ﹪  cis male, he / him, bisexual height  ﹪  5′11 birthplace  ﹪  busan, sk  ethnicity  ﹪  korean nationality  ﹪  korean position  ﹪ lead vocalist, lead dancer final rank ﹪ #2 fc  ﹪  lee jaehyun

(大江理恵) : ōe rie, chorong, 09 10 ‘00

. . . is a former professional cheerleader and member of dachi. chorong naturally looks for challenges everywhere in life. her biggest challenge for a long time was keeping up her competitive cheerleading career. she began at 8 years old but quit at 17 due to her kneecap shattering, altering her life’s course forever. she began looking into different occupations that she may not have looked twice at, which came the idea of becoming an idol. she moved from america to south korea all by herself and auditioned as an individual trainee for lucky hour. her ability to become a leader figure in virtually every situation has helped her form a multitude of connections. now that she’s an idol, possibilities seem endless.

nicknames  ﹪  cherry, 5th gen’s cheer captain identity ﹪  cis female, she / her, lesbian height  ﹪  5′5 birthplace  ﹪  san francisco, usa ethnicity  ﹪  korean-japanese nationality  ﹪  korean-american (dual citizenship) position  ﹪ main rapper, lead dancer, vocalist, leader final rank ﹪ #4 fc  ﹪  uchinaga aeri 

(고서이) : go seoyi, 12 03 ‘01

. . . is a member of dachi. she is the only member of the group to have no career in the public eye prior to appearing on lucky hour. she is delicate with her words, constantly thanking her parents for an ‘average’ life while also praising her fellow members for their talents and charm. her pure image during lucky hour absolutely enthralled the media which helped her rank in the number one spot. these days, no one can walk around south korea without seeing her face on billboards or hearing her voice in an advertisement. seoyi is, by far, the most popular member nationwide. it’s hard not to adore her.

nicknames  ﹪  gogo, everywhere-girl identity ﹪  cis female, she / her, bisexual height  ﹪  5′8 birthplace  ﹪  seoul, sk  ethnicity  ﹪  korean nationality  ﹪  korean position  ﹪ main vocalist, face of the group, center final rank ﹪ #1 fc  ﹪  kim gaeul

(은주비) : eun joobi, 04 29 ‘02

. . . is a member of dachi. eun’s idol career has spanned three generations in total: 3rd, 4th, and now 5th. in 2015 she debuted in an unsuccessful kid group. eun fell into obscurity immediately. she simply couldn’t achieve what she truly wanted because of the limits of a kid group (despite being a child herself). in 2020 she debuted as a soloist under mystic story, but didn’t gain the proper momentum to propel into stardom. she had one more comeback before heading back into the trainee dungeon. but finally, mystic story announced to their trainees that they would be airing a survival show, and eun was the first to get picked as a contestant.

nicknames  ﹪  scooby doo, joojoobi identity ﹪  femme, she / him, lesbian height  ﹪  5′7 birthplace  ﹪  gwangju, sk  ethnicity  ﹪  korean nationality  ﹪  korean position  ﹪  lead rapper, main dancer, vocalist, visual, maknae final rank ﹪ #3 fc  ﹪  park sohyun

additional info‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ıllı ‎ [ 🎧 ]    ‎♪ ҉     

dachi has an incredibly tough issue with solo stans. honestly, it might be the downfall of the group. seoyi solo stans are the worst for obvious reasons, but jeyeol solo stans can be even more infuriating. as the only guy he sticks out like a sore thumb. not to mention his extroverted personality and charisma which naturally draws in people. it feels like every day there’s a seoyi or jeyeol solo stan that protests for their removal of the group, like the bond that all dachi members share isn’t bordering on familial.

before dachi and lucky hour was an infamous scrapped project titled girl front. the lineup was entirely different, with nine female trainees of multiple nationalities. the goal was to represent as many kpop fans as possible through the idols. girl front quickly fell through when every trainee left the company over a 5 month period. the identities of the trainees are still unknown, but many theories have popped up around the industry.

insp. by @venusvity, @pureun & @almostyours

[barbielore]

For the 2024 Superbowl, Mattel released their "first ever" NFL fan Barbies. In the build-up to the Superbowl, they announced the release of either a San Francisco 49ers or a Kansas City Chiefs Barbie - depending on which team won.

Pre-orders opened for both dolls with the caveat that you would not be charged for your pre-order unless your team actually won.

Mattel describes this as a unique release - not just in terms of the doll which goes into production varying depending on the outcome of a sporting event, but as to my knowledge, there are no other NFL themed Barbies. There are Barbies themed around the NBA and WNBA, a number of Olympians and other athletes, and the Women In Sport release, but no NFL players or fans.

The closest we get is the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader Barbie.

(The Dallas Cowboys are an NFL team, right? This is going to be an embarrassing post if I am wrong.)

[gamersansblog]

Chapter 1

The change

Summary: How the world changed

Warning: cursing,mention of gore, gore, killing and mention of killing, death

Tags:

******

Kaiju (kaigū, Japanese) Giant Beast

Jaeger (Jā'gar, German) Hunter

"When I was a kid whenever I feel small or lonely I look up the stars." "wondered if there was life up there....turns out I was looking at the wrong direction"

"When Allen life entered our world it was deep beneath the pacific ocean...a fisher of two tectonic plates a portal between dimensions"

Thr deep of the pacific ocean with blue lightning as it flames erupted flames also erupting making a portal of the other world

"The breach.... I was 15 when the first kaiju made land in San Francisco"

A monster bigger then the a bridge roars loudly while destroying a bridge with people in their cars still.

Fighter jets zoom across the bridge and starts shooting shooting the monster called a kaiju.

One the fighter jets crashed at the claws of the kaiju and exploded.

"By the time tanks, jets, and missles took it down 6 days and 35 miles later. 3 cities were destroyed. Tens and thousands of lives were lost"

The blaring of the alarm and loud screams of people while running around trying to find cover.

Workers are walking up a hill where the kaiju destroyed and up to where the kaiju was laying dead

"We morned their death and memorialized the attack and moved on..."

Obama is talking about we will stand united against this threat.

Graves are shown of how many people died during the kaiju attack.

people screaming and running away while a different kaiju rose showing its face. The building being destroyed by the kaiju.

"Then only six months later the second attack hit Manila"

A foot foot of a kaiju beast showed on the news then people using exilators to pick up the remains of the kaiju or the remains of the attack.

"After factor of the kaiju blood creates a toxic phenomenon called kaiju blue" the reporter said ot the screen shows a man sticking out his hend showing the kaiju blood that was dark blue

"Then the third one hit Carbo. Then the fourth then we learned this was not going to stop this was just the beginning"

The boat was slowly drifting somewhere as it carries a skeleton kaiju with guts next to it. People holding hands as they watch the flames and smoke erupt after the kaiju attack.

Flames everywhere as a kaiju screeches.

"We needed a new weapon.....The world came together, pooling its resources and throwing aside old rivalries"

Presidents pooling put their information so they can make a machine to destroy any kaiju that come put of the breach.

Robots melting and working on metal.

The metal that is a chest plate slowly lowers down to connect to the other pieces.

"For the sake of the greater good" "To fight monsters, we created monsters of pur own"

A women engineer is working on wiring whole talking to someone...

Half of a metal body is standing while workers work on it including the other one

"The yeager program was born"

A man raises his head wearing a helmet like thing.

Another man is waring a arm that has wires and holds the arm out and squeezes his hand while another hand I the background copies him.

"There were setbacks at first... The neural laid to interface with a yeager proved to much for a single pilot..."

Men are draging a man to a seat and set him down while the man. The man seat looked dazed. Doctors lowered his eye while shining a light showing slight blood in his eye while his nose suddenly started bleeding.

"A two-pilot system was implemented. Left Hemisphere, Right Hemisphere pilot control."

"We started winning. Jeagers stopping Kaijus everywhere. But the jaegers were only good as their pilots."

Soilders where marching while confedie and loud cheer while a Jaeger was being pulled.

A jaeger taking down a kaiju.

"So jaeger pilots turned into Rockstars danger turned into a propaganda. Kaijus into toys."

"We got really good at it... Winning"

"Then.......them it all changed..."

[heathersdesk]

Why doesn't the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints build homeless shelters, hospitals, etc?

Because the Church doesn't duplicate infrastructure.

Why build an entirely new hospital when you can provide resources and volunteers to an existing one? (Note: they built Deseret Hospital, which was the predecessor to both LDS Hospital and Primary Children's Hospital in Salt Lake City)

Why build homeless shelters when it is far more effective to house the homeless instead with the same money?

Why create new charities when you can donate to existing ones?

People who use this line think they've found some clever Gotcha on a subject they don't know anything about.

Source: Me. I spent part of my mission serving at Temple Square. It includes Welfare Square, the hub of the Church's humanitarian aid program. It represents generations of the Church's investments into providing for those in need. The scope of what they do is so broad, I can't explain it all here. But the Relief Society innovated safe grain storage, which has gone into helping people in need for over a hundred years all over the world. Relief Society grain fed people after the San Francisco Earthquake, World War I, the Great Depression, and the Great Chinese Famine. The women of the Church created infrastructure where it did not exist, and it has been the backbone of the Church's humanitarian aid ever since.

The thing I most remember was the fact that they could get wheelchairs to people in the developing world for $4 a pop. They don't do any of that on their own. They do it in partnership with other organizations because it means they can help more people with the resources they give. The Church and its volunteers get less recognition that way, but that doesn't matter to us. It's the good deed done well that motivates my people, not recognition.

Why don't I care that the Church-owned ranches and farms are so large and valuable? Because that is where the food in the Bishop's Storehouses comes from. The Church grows and processes all the food they give away, functioning almost entirely on volunteer labor. There is a cannery right around the corner from my house where I've assisted in the Church's efforts to can peaches. Those peaches were grown on a church-owned farm. My congregation gets a cannery assignment, shared with all the other congregations here locally, to process food that feeds people in our community, whether they're active members of the Church or not. And ours is just one example of operations just like it that exist all over the world.

I've stood in the kitchens of Brazilian women who were preparing and storing rice to give away to people in need. The Young Women in my last ward collected donations to make hygiene kits to give away to homeless people. Wherever there are women in this Church, there will always be people finding ways to help people simply because they care.

Which is a reminder to my LDS friends who follow me: you don't have to listen to people who criticize the Church's generosity, especially when they're loud and wrong. Just start rattling off the ways you've seen the Church and its people do good where you are, or wherever you've been.

They probably don't remember Hurricane Sandy when it leveled New Jersey. But I do because my YSA congregation in Delaware had sign up sheets going around for months for volunteers to participate in the cleanup. They don't remember Hurricane Michael. But I do, because I was visiting family in the aftermath and saw all the roofs that were tarped by volunteers from my Church, members of that community in the Florida panhandle whose own church building was still in shambles.

Need a way to see all the good the Church is doing where you live? Go to justserve.org. It is full of volunteer opportunities in your local community, many of which are on there because of volunteers from the Church and the causes they're already involved in. I put one in the bulletin for my congregation each week. It's a better use of your time than entertaining out of pocket nonsense in your Asks from strangers on the Internet.

[scotianostra]

September 6th 1826 saw the birth of Alison “Eilley” Oram Bowers at a farm near Forfar.

I learned about this extraordinary lady a few years ago, what a life she had, after marrying the first of her three husbands at aged just 15, she emigrated to America at 17 and during the next 60 years she became one of the richest, and most talked about women in the US, outlived three husbands and her children and reinvent herself, after becoming bankrupt as a fortune teller they called The “Seeress of Washoe”.

It is said Alison joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter day Saints as means to get across the Atlantic, and so it was after marrying the first of her three husbands, Stephen Hunter at aged just 15, she emigrated to America at 17. Other sources say she never became an actual follower of the Mormons, as they are generally known nowadays, but her Husband was baptised into the faith. I admit a lot of her life story is conjecture and on every occasion I have researched her new information arises.

Following the Mormon custom of her day, her husband, Stephen Hunter, took several wives after they had settled in Utah. Eilley, however, did not enjoy the polygamous lifestyle and soon divorced Hunter. In 1853, she married Alexander Cowan.

The two moved to the Carson Valley where they purchased 300 acres in Washoe Valley. In 1857, Cowan, who was also Mormon, returned to Salt Lake City during troubles between the church and the U.S. government.

Eilley chose to divorce Cowan rather than return to Utah and moved to Johntown, a mining camp below Virginia City, where she opened a boardinghouse.

During this time, she acquired a handful of mining claims from boarders unable to pay their debts and met a Comstock miner, Lemuel “Sandy” Bowers, who would become her third husband.

The two combined their mining holdings and, as luck would have it, ended up owning one of the Comstock’s earliest major silver strikes. Within a short time, the Bowers were among Nevada’s first mining millionaires.

Deciding to spend their seemingly limitless wealth, in 1864, the Bowers’ began building the huge stone mansion on Eilley’s acreage in Washoe Valley. While the home was under construction, they traveled to Europe to purchase furnishings. When it was completed, the mansion was one of the most magnificent homes in the state and the Bowers were willing party hosts. During the next four years, they indulged themselves on the finest clothing, furniture, and collectables.

In 1868, however, Sandy Bowers suddenly died of silicosis at the age of 35. By then, the original mine had become tapped out and he had invested much of their money in several unprofitable mining ventures.

After the estate was finally settled, Eilley found herself penniless. Despite her best efforts to hold on to the mansion, she was unable to keep it. Her misfortune continued when, in 1874, her adopted daughter, Persia, died at the age of 12. Since her days in Salt Lake City, Eilley had been intrigued by the occult.

Apparently during that time she acquired a crystal ball for fortune telling and had prognosticated for friends, although other sources say she brought the “Seer Stone” from her home in Scotland.

In 1875, following her many financial and personal setbacks, Eilley set up shop in Virginia City as the “Washoe Seeress.” Despite skeptics, she practiced her arcane arts for nearly a decade, until the decline of the Comstock.

In the 1880s, she moved to San Francisco, where she worked in various jobs, including–as she had so many years before operating a small boardinghouse. In 1898, she was placed in a rest home in Oakland, where she died in 1903 at the age of 77.

The Bowers Mansion survives and in 1946, it was purchased by Washoe County with the assistance of the Reno Women’s Civic Club and public donations; 20 years later, the property was updated and renovated. Today, it’s Bowers Mansion Regional Park. The home has been restored and refurbished with historic pieces donated by Nevada residents. The grounds contain hiking trails, picnic areas, spring-fed swimming pools, a playground, an amphitheater, and more.

Read more about this Eilley’s story here https://www.nevadawomen.org/research-center/biographies-alphabetical/alison-eilley-oram-bowers/

[virtue-boy]

don't really get the 'endangered butch' thing like I see a lot of butches in my day to day life. I just think soft butch is more normal now like you dont have to be a butch butch butch to survive as a butch anymore, just like you can be a masc gay guy who is also kind of a nelly. Like I have tons of butch friends and I probably half of everyone I do organizing with is butch. Like look I'm just one guy maybe you used to see 500 butches every single day or something but like I see butches all the time I just think people are discounting a lot of people's masculinity or something. Like people are like "When was the last time I saw a butch?" and I'm like bruh I saw like 4 yesterday at a queer meeting what are you on about. Like maybe not hard hard butches but like I kind of think every type of queer identity has loosened up a bit like everyone's more androgynous now. Idk its just maddening to me becuase this narrative makes no fucking sense with my own life. I legit just think that it is people discounting butches who don't fit a certain image of a 30 something hard white cis butch with a midsize to buff build in blue collar cosplay, which of course, shout out but like, that's one type of person. I literally see people alllll the time who would be considered butch if they were taller, cis-female passing, buff, less fat or more in line with ideas of white masculinity. And I mean, 90% of the time when someone says something like this they are definitely not including trans female butches in their definition of the category.

Or like, legit I think this must come down to hair. Like mullet and mid-length hair is big in masculine style rn for all ethnicities and genders. Like I know so many people who would be cookie cutter Butch if they got a crew cut instead of having like, Nickelback hair or a mullet. Like are we really declaring a postmortem on butches over what military conscript's hair looked like in 1950? Or like, what white bloggers in San Francisco were wearing 2006 - 2014? Are we really going to discount all the non-white men's fashions and styles that have mid and long length hair?

The other thing I think must be some kind of gender purity definition of butch as a cis woman, so people are declaring butch dead because people use they/them or identify as non-binary, as if "butch" historically was purely "woman-identified" that never used gender non-conforming language or there were never butches who never identified as girls or women. And of course like, ignoring butch trans women off the bat even through like, they are literally carrying the torch and understand butch more than any cis femme ever could as they are intentional butch women. Anyways.

I legitimately challenge people to think about the hair thing though. I actually think huge swathes of butches are being written off bc they have mid length hair or they dress more like an architect than an auto mechanic or something. Or just that they don't do any blue collar cosplay at all and just wear men's hoodies and shit. I don't know but like, I just saw a post about someone saying that someone said "you're the first butch I've seen in forever" and I'm just like ??? I've seen like 10 butches of various ages and backgrounds I know personally in the last month.

[coochiequeens]

Anthropologist Zelia Nuttall transformed the way we think of ancient Mesoamerica

An illustration of the Aztec calendar stone surrounds a young portrait of anthropologist Zelia Nuttall. “Mrs. Nuttall’s investigations of the Mexican calendar appear to furnish for the first time a satisfactory key,” wrote one leading scholar.Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University

By Merilee Grindle

Author, In the Shadow of Quetzalcoatl: Zelia Nuttall and the Search for Mexico’s Ancient Civilizations

On a bright day early in 1885, Zelia Nuttall was strolling around the ancient ruins of Teotihuacán, the enormous ceremonial site north of Mexico City. Not yet 30, Zelia had a deep interest in the history of Mexico, and now, with her marriage in ruins and her future uncertain, she was on a trip with her mother, Magdalena; her brother George; and her 3-year-old daughter, Nadine, to distract her from her worries.

The site, which covered eight square miles, had once been home to the predecessors of the Aztecs. It included about 2,000 dwellings along with temples, plazas and pyramids where they charted the stars and made offerings to the sun and moon. As Zelia admired the impressive buildings, some shrouded in dirt and vegetation, she reached down and collected a few pieces of pottery from the dusty soil. They were plentiful and easy to find with a few brushes of her hand.

The moment she picked up those artifacts would prove to be pivotal in the life and long career of this trailblazing anthropologist. Over the next 50 years, Zelia’s careful study of artifacts would challenge the way people thought of Mesoamerican history. She was the first to decode the Aztec calendar and identify the purposes of ancient adornments and weapons. She untangled the organization of commercial networks and transcribed ancient songs. She found clues about the ancient Americas all over the world: Once, deep in the stacks of the British Museum, she found an Indigenous pictorial history that predated the Spanish conquest; skilled at interpreting Aztec drawings and symbols, and having taught herself Nahuatl, the language of the Aztecs and their predecessors, she was the first to transcribe and translate this and other ancient manuscripts.

A 19th-century engraving of the pyramids of Teotihuacan. The Pyramid of the Sun was restored in 1910, on the centennial of the Mexican War of Independence. Bridgeman Images

She also served as a bridge between the United States and Mexico, living in both countries and working with leading national institutions in each. At a time when many scholars spun elaborate and unfounded theories based on 19th-century views of race, Zelia looked at the evidence and made concrete connections based on scientific observations. By the time she died, in 1933, she had published three books and more than 75 articles.

Yet during her lifetime, she was sometimes called an antiquarian, a folklorist or a “lady scientist.” When she died, scholarly journals and some newspapers ran notices and obituaries. After that, she largely passed from the public’s eye.

Today, anthropologists often have specialized expertise. But in the 19th century, anthropology was not yet a discipline with its own paradigms, methods and boundaries. Most of its practitioners were self-taught or served as apprentices to a handful of recognized experts. Many such “amateurs” made important contributions to the field. And many of them were women.

She was born in 1857 to a wealthy family in San Francisco, then a fast-growing city of about 50,000 people. Near the shore, ships mired in mud—many abandoned by crews eager to make their fortunes in the gold fields—served as hostels to a restless, sometimes violent and mostly male population. Other adventurers found uncertain homes in hastily built hotels and rooming houses. But the city was also an exciting international settlement. Ships arrived daily from across the Pacific, Panama and the east via Cape Horn.

Her well-appointed household stood apart from the city’s wilder quarters, but the people who lived there reflected San Francisco’s international character. Her mother, Magdalena Parrott Nuttall, herself the daughter of an American businessman and a Mexican woman, spoke Spanish, and her grandfather, who lived nearby, employed a French lady’s maid; a nursemaid from New York; a chambermaid, laundress, housekeeper, coachman and groom from Ireland; a steward from Switzerland; a cook and additional servants from France; and nine day laborers from China.

When Zelia was 8, her family left San Francisco for Europe. Along with her older brother, Juanito, and her younger siblings Carmelita and George, Zelia and her parents set off for Ireland, her father’s native land. Over the course of 11 years, the Nuttalls made their way to London, Paris, the South of France, Germany, Italy and Switzerland. Throughout that time, Zelia was educated largely by governesses and tutors, with some formal schooling in Dresden and London. But her time overseas shaped her interest in ancient history and expanded her language skills, as she added French, German and Italian to her fluent Spanish. All of this expansion thrilled her mind, but it also made her feel increasingly out of step with the expectations for young women of her age. “My ideas and opinions form themselves I don’t know how, and I sometimes am astonished at the determined ideas I have!” she wrote in a November 1875 letter.

She took refuge in singing and tried to be pleased with the few social events she attended. Photos from the time show Zelia as an attractive young woman with large, dark eyes, arched eyebrows and stylishly arranged hair. Nevertheless, she was unhappy. “I was infinitely disgusted with some of the idiotic specimens of mankind I danced with,” she wrote in an 1876 letter after a party.

The Nuttalls returned to San Francisco in 1876, when she was nearly 20. Two years later, she met a young French anthropologist, Alphonse Pinart, already celebrated in his mid-20s as an explorer and linguist. He had been to Alaska, Arizona, Canada, Maine, Russia and the South Sea Islands. Pinart may have led the family to understand that he was wealthy. In fact, he was almost penniless, having already spent his significant inheritance.

They were married at the Nuttall home on May 10, 1880. During the next year and a half, the couple traveled to Paris, Madrid, Barcelona, Puerto Rico, Cuba, the Dominican Republic and Mexico. Pinart introduced Zelia to a burgeoning academic literature in ethnology and archaeology, and she began to understand the theories of linguistics. She found 16th-century Spanish hardly a challenge as she consulted annotated codices—pictorial documents that traced pre-Columbian genealogies and conquests in Mesoamerica. While Pinart dashed from project to project and roamed widely among countries, tribes and languages, Zelia began to demonstrate an intellectual style that was more focused and precise.

Despite the excitement of discovery, something began to go wrong in the marriage. Hints of Zelia’s distress can be found in her effusive letters home. There was, for example, the shipboard admission that her husband was less attentive than she had anticipated. She noted that he was “so quiet and undemonstrative” that it was hard to imagine they were newly married. Some fellow passengers thought they were brother and sister—an odd assumption to make, even in Victorian times, about newlyweds.

By contrast, Zelia is nowhere to be found in Pinart’s surviving correspondence. On April 6, 1881, she gave birth to a daughter, Roberta, who lived only 11 days. To add to this melancholy time, her beloved father died in May, leaving her doubly devastated. A letter Pinart wrote to a friend just a few months later from Cuba appeared on stationery with a black border, signifying mourning, but he made no reference to his wife, her father or their child.

Zelia found solace in learning about her heritage when she and Pinart traveled to Mexico in 1881. She was eager to see her mother’s homeland and to hone her understanding of its pre-Columbian cultures. While Pinart carried out his own research, she began to learn Nahuatl, and she toured villages where dialects of the language were still spoken and ruins where the marks of the past could still be found.

The couple returned to San Francisco on December 6, 1881. By then, Zelia was pregnant again. In late January, Pinart set out to spend several months in Guatemala, Nicaragua and Panama, while Zelia awaited the birth of her second child, Nadine, at her mother’s house.

What finally drove Zelia to sue for divorce, on the grounds of cruelty and neglect, remains elusive. She may have felt that Pinart had married her for access to her family’s fortune. Many years later, she angrily informed Nadine that Pinart had spent the $9,000 she had inherited from her father as well as her marriage settlement. When the money was gone, and when her family was firm that he shouldn’t expect any more, he abandoned his wife and child. Once Zelia demanded a separation, he did not contest it, though obtaining the divorce was a long process that started soon after the couple’s return from their travels and didn’t conclude until 1888.

In later life, Nadine Nuttall Pinart would reflect on how much it had cost her to grow up without a father. “From the time before I can remember, he was taboo to me,” she wrote in a 1961 letter to Ross Parmenter, a New York Times editor who wrote numerous books about Mexico and developed a fascination with Zelia Nuttall. “I was frightened by the violent scoldings I got for mentioning his name. Later, I compromised with myself and when asked about him quietly said, ‘I never knew him!’ I realized that people thought he was dead and were sorry for me and said no more. In those days it was a disgrace to have a divorced mother.”

If the period between 1881 and 1888, when Zelia finalized her divorce, was fraught with tension and heartache, this was also when she set about redefining herself as a woman with a vocation. She spent five months in Mexico with her mother, her daughter and her brother between December 1884 and April 1885, visiting Cuernavaca, Mexico City and Toluca, and exploring archaeological ruins. It was during this time that Zelia made her fateful winter visit to Teotihuacan and acquired her first artifacts.

The pieces of pottery she picked up that day were small terra-cotta heads. They were abundant in the area among the pyramids. At the time, the site was still being used as farmland, and the artifacts came to the surface during ploughing. The heads themselves were an inch or two long, with flat backs and a neck attached. Scholars before Zelia—Americans, Europeans and Mexicans—had mused creatively about such relics, describing differences in their facial features and the variety of headdresses they had sported. Drawing on 19th-century fascination with the topic of race, the French archaeologist Désiré Charnay became convinced that he could see in them African, Chinese and Greek facial features. Charnay mused: Had their creators migrated from Africa, Asia or Europe? And if racial identity was a marker of human development, as many believed at the time, what might this curious mixture of features reveal about civilizations in the Americas?

This kind of thinking was typical. Mistaken ideas about Darwinism led many Western scholars to believe that civilizations evolved along a linear, hierarchical path, from primitive villages to ancient kingdoms to modern industrial and urban societies. Not surprisingly, they used this to legitimize beliefs about the superiority of the white race.

Zelia Nuttall divided her collection of terra-cotta heads into three classes. The first included rudimentary efforts to represent a human face (as seen above, far left). The second class (including the bald second head from the left above) had holes for attaching earrings and other ornaments. The third category included the rest of the heads pictured here, sporting what Zelia called “a confusing variety of peculiar and not ungraceful headdresses.” Public Domain

Zelia generally accepted her era’s assumptions about race and class, and she was comfortable with her elite status and its privileges. Yet in her research, she did not categorize civilizations as primitive, savage or barbaric, as other scholars did, nor did she indulge in racial theories of cultural development. Instead, she sought to sweep aside this kind of speculation and replace it with observation and reason.

The more Zelia examined her terra-cotta heads, the more she realized she needed guidance from someone who had more experience in the study of antiquity than she had. At the time, there were no departments of anthropology in colleges or universities, no degrees to be earned, no clear routes to building a career. To pursue her burgeoning interest in the ancient civilizations of Mexico, and to decipher the meaning of an assortment of terra-cotta heads, she contacted Frederic Ward Putnam, the curator of Harvard’s Peabody Museum of Archaeology & Ethnology and a leading expert on Mesoamerica. He agreed to meet her in the fall of 1885. The meeting was all she hoped for: Putnam warmed to her work and encouraged her to follow her intuitive grasp of how to observe and interpret evidence.

Putnam’s regard for women’s intellectual capacities was clear. He was one of a small number of Harvard researchers who gave lectures at “the Annex,” an institution established for women who had passed the college’s admissions test but were not allowed to attend classes or earn a degree. (The Harvard Annex eventually became Radcliffe College.) He hired a resourceful administrative staff of women and encouraged them to play a role in managing the museum. He also had a “correspondence school,” which he conducted through a widespread exchange of letters. As he once wrote, “Several of my best students are women, who have become widely known by their thorough and important works and publications; and this I consider as high an honor as could be accorded to me.”

Within months of their first encounter, in late 1885, Putnam asked Zelia to become a special assistant in Mexican archaeology for the Peabody. Less than a year later, in the annual report of the Peabody Museum, he wrote about her appointment in glowing terms: “Familiar with the Nahuatl language … and with an exceptional talent for linguistics and archaeology, as well as being thoroughly informed in all the early native and Spanish writings relating to Mexico and its people, Mrs. Nuttall enters the study with a preparation as remarkable as it is exceptional.”

With guidance from Putnam, Zelia wrote an investigation of the terra-cotta heads, her first published scientific report, which appeared in the spring 1886 issue of the American Journal of Archaeology. “At the first glance,” she wrote, “the multitude and variety of these heads are confusing; but after prolonged observation, they seem to naturally distribute themselves into three large and well-defined Classes.”

Each class, she theorized, had been created at a different time and represented a different stage in the culture. The first class contained “primary and crude attempts at the representation of a human face.” The second class included the first efforts at artistry. Her inspection revealed “holes, notches and lines,” suggesting ways in which tiny headdresses, feathers or beads could have been attached to the heads, and noted traces of several colors of paint and different kinds of clay.

The third class was the most important, Zelia argued, because of the quality of the molding and carving. This class had “modifications of feature sufficient to give every specimen an individuality of its own,” she wrote. “The faces are invariably in repose, in some the eyes are closed … faces young and smooth, others very elongated, some with sunken cheeks, others with wrinkles.”

By comparing these terra-cotta heads with ancient pictographs and writings, she showed that some of the heads represented children while others depicted young men, warriors or elders. Others showed the distinct hairstyles described in the writings of Bernardino de Sahagún, a 16th-century Franciscan friar who spent 50 years studying the Aztec culture, language and history. “The noblewomen used to wear their hair hanging to the waist, or to the shoulders only. Others wore it long over the temples and ears only,” Sahagún had written. “Others entwined their hair with black cotton-thread and wore these twists about the head, forming two little horns above the forehead. Others have longer hair and cut its ends equally, as an embellishment, so that, when it is twisted and tied up, it looked as though it were all of the same length; and other women have their whole heads shorn or clipped.”

These concrete observations allowed Zelia to challenge popular ideas about the supposed African, Asian, European or Egyptian origins of the “races” in the Americas. For example, by studying the ornamentation the heads displayed, she was able to identify the person or god each artifact represented and interpret its ritual or symbolic purpose. One clearly corresponded with Tlaloc, the pan-Mesoamerican god of rain, who had been shown in the pictographs with a curved band above the mouth and circles around the eyes. Another head, molded with a turban-like cap, corresponded with the goddess Centeotl; Zelia speculated that the clay turbans once had real feathers attached. She also noted the significance of various poses. “In the picture-writings, closed eyes invariably convey the idea of death,” she wrote.

The article revealed how Zelia intended to be seen as a scholar. First, she made it clear that she had read what others had written. Then she revealed that she would go beyond existing speculation to answer questions that had puzzled others; hers was to be original and important work.

In 1892, Zelia presented a paper in Spain about the Aztec calendar stone. Buried during the destruction of the Aztec Empire, the calendar stone had been unearthed in December 1790, when repairs were being made to the Zócalo, Mexico City’s central plaza. The sculpted stone, some 12 feet in diameter and weighing 25 tons, became a popular attraction exhibited in the Mexico City Cathedral, steps from where it had been found. Antonio de León y Gama, a Mexican astronomer, mathematician and archaeologist, had written about its discovery and praised the intelligence of the Aztecs who had created it. Alexander von Humboldt, who saw the stone when he visited Mexico in 1803-1804, included a drawing in his Views of the Cordilleras and Monuments of the Indigenous Peoples of the Americas, published in 1810, and encouraged Mexican intellectuals to study the meaning of its concentric circles and numerous glyphs. Many others took on its puzzles in the years that followed.

At the time of Zelia’s presentation, the Mexican upper classes were carefully crafting a new national image—a story that would allow Mexico to take its place among the modern nations of the world. The Aztecs, Maya, Olmecs, Toltecs, Zapotecs and other cultures had left their imprints throughout the country in magnificent temples, enigmatic statues, gold jewelry, jade figurines and painted murals. This history was reclaimed as a national heritage every bit as glorious as those of Greece and Rome. A statue of Cuauhtémoc, the Aztec king who resisted Cortés, took its place on Mexico City’s elegant Paseo de la Reforma in 1887. The calendar stone had been installed in a place of honor in the National Museum in 1885. But little was known about the actual customs and beliefs of those ancient people.

The Aztec calendar stone, a central focus of Zelia’s research, has been on display at Mexico City’s National Museum of Anthropology since 1885. Alamy

With her extraordinary knowledge of surviving codices, Zelia offered a novel “reading” of the giant calendar stone that had stumped others and provided new insights into the annual and seasonal cycles of daily life in ancient Mexico, illuminating the cosmology, agriculture and trade patterns of the Aztecs. She presented another version of the paper at the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893.

Zelia returned to Mexico City in February 1902, and after a personal audience with Mexican President José de la Cruz Porfirio Díaz, arranged by the U.S. ambassador, she embarked on a spree of travel to archaeological sites she had long wanted to visit. In May, she and 20-year-old Nadine joined friends at the Oaxacan ruins at Mitla, a religious center, where the “place of the dead” harbored both Mixtec and Zapotec art and architecture. On this dry, high plain ringed by mountains, Zelia strolled across vast stone patios, inspected the elaborate geometric friezes that lined and decorated them, explored temples and imagined a sophisticated society of kings, priests, nobles, artisans and farmers.

When the Spaniards arrived in Mexico in the 16th century, the Aztec Empire dominated the area. This map of its largest city, Tenochtitlan (now the historic center of Mexico City), was printed in 1524 in Nuremberg, Germany, likely based on a drawing by one of Hernán Cortés’ men. It shows the city’s elaborate network of roads, bridges and canals, complete with aqueducts and bathhouses. The Spaniards executed the last Aztec ruler, Moctezuma II Xocoyotzin, and forced his people to convert to Catholicism. Alamy

Zelia was welcomed into the international community of anthropologists in Mexico. She and Nadine traveled in the Yucatán with the young American anthropologist Alfred Tozzer, where they were beset by frequent rain and terrible roads. Arriving tired and wet in a small town, Tozzer, who would one day chair Harvard’s department of anthropology, was impressed by the women’s resilience. “Imagine the picture,” he wrote to his family on April 8, 1902. “Mrs. Nuttall, never accustomed to roughing it, a woman entertained by the crowned heads of Europe, sitting at a bench with the top part of my pajamas on drinking chocolate and her daughter with a flannel shirt of mine on doing the same.”

After a few months, Zelia and her daughter returned to Mexico City and purchased a mansion they called Casa Alvarado, in the upscale suburb of Coyoacán. The grand house never failed to impress. Frederick Starr, an anthropologist from the University of Chicago, was one of many who found the palace beautiful and restful: “We rode out to Coyoacán where we found Mrs. Nuttall and her daughter really charmingly situated. The color decoration is simple and strong. Nasturtiums are handsomely used in the patio and balcony effects. … While Mrs. Nuttall dressed, Miss Nuttall showed us through the garden, where a real transformation has been effected.”

Living in Mexico energized Zelia. In addition to her affiliation with Harvard, she had funding to travel and collect artifacts for the Department of Anthropology at the University of California. “With me here, in touch with the government and people, I think that American institutions can but profit and that I can do some good in advancing Science in this country,” she confided to Putnam.

Impressed by her knowledge of the country’s past, public officials and foreign visitors came to see her and listened carefully as she led them around her home and garden, explaining the collection she was busy assembling. Her garden, patio and verandas were home to an increasingly large number of stone artifacts, a beautiful carving of the serpent god Quetzalcóatl, revered for his wisdom, among them. She took up “digging” near Casa Alvarado, an activity one guest later recalled fondly. “Every morning after breakfast Mrs. Nuttall would give me a trowel and a bucket. She herself was equipped with a sort of short-handled spade, and we would go out into the surrounding country and ‘dig.’ We mostly found broken pieces of pottery, but she seemed to think some of them were significant, if not valuable. … She was a very handsome woman and very charming. She lived in great style, with many Mexican servants.”

The Codex Borgia, an accordion-folded document of Aztec life, was brought to Europe during the Spanish colonial period. Made of animal skins and stretching 36 feet when unfolded, the codex catalogs different units of time and the deities associated with them. It also includes astrological predictions once used for arranging marriages. Zelia drew on the codex to help her decode the Aztec calendar. Courtesy Ziereis Facsimiles

A section from the Codex Borgia

Zelia continued to travel throughout the country. She found a 14-page codex painted on deerskin, with commentary in Nahuatl, that she believed so valuable that she bought it with her own money, selling some of her possessions to afford it. “Owing to my residence here I must keep it a profound secret that I possess and sent out of the country this Codex,” she wrote to Putnam.

While she was not above smuggling treasures out of Mexico, Zelia also worked in the National Museum, contributing to its displays and archives, and she became an honorary professor of the institution.

Zelia had never owned a home until she bought Casa Alvarado in 1902. In a letter, she described the property as “a beautiful old place with extensive gardens.” Smithsonian Archives

Her Sunday teas at Casa Alvarado were a study in salon orchestration. “She would have 30 or 40 people and she would change the groups she invited,” one visitor recalled. “Sometimes they were all people who knew each other. Or else she would bring people together she wanted to introduce to each other. They weren’t like old-style Mexican parties, with all the women on one side and men on the other. The men and women were mixed together.”

According to an oft-repeated legend, at one of her soirées, she advanced to welcome an eminent guest just as her voluminous Victorian drawers came loose and dropped to her ankles. She calmly stepped out of them and proceeded as if nothing had happened. Zelia was, above all, self-confident.

Zelia Nuttall left Mexico during the early months of 1910 and did not return to her beloved Casa Alvarado for seven years. Throughout that time, Mexico was in the midst of a violent revolution. As many as two million people lost their lives in the ten-year conflict, and the country’s infrastructure was reduced to tatters. Even after the end of the most extensive violence, turmoil erupted sporadically until the late 1920s.

By then, visitors to Casa Alvarado agreed that Zelia was rooted in a bygone era. She was a middle-aged woman with thick glasses who favored shawls, laces and jet beads. Her palace was still filled with stuff only a Victorian could accumulate, but Mexico was telling new stories about itself.

The writer D.H. Lawrence used Zelia as a model for a fictional character—“an elderly woman, rather like a Conquistador herself in her black silk dress and her little black shoulder-shawl.” Antropo Wiki

The elites of the previous generation had asserted that descendants of the Aztec, Maya and other civilizations deteriorated into poverty and abandon. Young artists and intellectuals now rejected this belief. In Diego Rivera’s vast public murals, he showed the people of Mexico being ground into poverty and submission by Spanish conquistadors, a rapacious church, foreign capitalism, the army and cruel politicians. Quetzalcóatl replaced Santa Claus at the National Stadium; Chapultepec Park hosted Mexico Night.

Zelia did not like the revolution and she did not approve of what came after it. She did not celebrate the masses; she believed in hierarchy and a natural order of classes and races. Yet she was determined to be relevant to a new era in Mexico. Casa Alvarado became a meeting place for politicians, journalists, writers and social scientists from Mexico and abroad, many of whom came to witness the possibilities of change in the aftermath of a people’s revolution.

Nevertheless, the stubborn elegance of Casa Alvarado in the 1920s was clear testimony that Zelia was not willing to give up her lifestyle. When the French American painter Jean Charlot was a guest at one of Zelia’s teas, he was aghast at the Mexican servants in white gloves.

When Zelia Nuttall died in 1933, the U.S. consul in Mexico City wrote to Nadine—by then a 51-year-old widow living in Cambridge, England—assuring her that they’d given her mother a tasteful funeral. “Your Mother was very highly thought of here, as evidenced by the floral offerings and the number of her friends who came to the funeral service at the cemetery, it being estimated that about one hundred persons were present.”

By that time, the field of anthropology was dramatically changing, becoming more systematic and organized. Those who entered the field in the 1920s and 1930s built expertise in the classroom and under supervision in the field, passing a variety of tests and milestones determined by academic experts and acquiring a credential as proof of the right to pursue these inquiries. With these rigorous new standards, they asserted their superiority as scholars over those of Zelia’s generation.

Researchers thought this item at Vienna’s Museum of Ethnology was a “Moorish hat” before Zelia identified it as a Mesoamerican headdress. Alamy

Yet Alfred Tozzer, in his memorial in the journal American Anthropologist, reflected that Zelia “was a remarkable example of 19th-century versatility.” She was wrong in some of her overarching theories. For instance, she fallaciously argued that ancient Phoenician travelers had carried their culture to Mesoamerica. But she was right about many other things. Through her letters, articles and books, we can trace what she got right and what she got wrong as a scholar, and we can follow her as she moved from one research obsession to the next.

Her private life is harder to grasp. Among all the artifacts, there is little about the quips and gossip she exchanged with friends, the piano music she liked to play and sing. We cannot know what was in the boxes of papers in the cellar of Casa Alvarado that were burned in the housecleaning undertaken by its new tenants. We cannot retrieve personal and public documents lost in the San Francisco earthquake in 1906.

What we do know is that she had to make sacrifices, often very personal ones. We can feel her vulnerability, uncertainty, anger and embarrassment in the letters she wrote, as well as her self-assuredness. It required unusual self-discipline to learn so many languages and to gain a mastery of ancient pictographs. Her almost constant travels imperiled her health even while they advanced her vast network of friends, colleagues and patrons. But she continued to work, and that work helped establish the foundation on which many others now build.

A single mother pursuing a career while looking after a family in a man’s world: In some ways, Zelia Nuttall was a very modern woman.

Adapted from In the Shadow of Quetzalcoatl: Zelia Nuttall and the Search for Mexico’s Ancient Civilizations by Merilee Grindle, published by The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Copyright © 2023 by Merilee Grindle. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

[todaysdocument]

Telegram from the Executive Board of the San Francisco District of the California Federation of Women's Clubs Supporting the Raker Bill

Record Group 46: Records of the U.S. SenateSeries: Petitions and Related Documents That Were Presented, Read, or Tabled

The Raker Bill allowed San Francisco to build a dam on the Hetch Hetchy in Yosemite National Park.

[preprinted Telegraph form reads "WESTERN UNION NIGHT LETTER THEO N. VAIL, PRESIDENT Form 2289 B RECEIVED AT"] B5A LY 477 NL 124 EXTRA SAN FRANCISCO CALIF DEC 2 1913 [purple ink stamp "1913 Dec 3 AM 1 49"] [blue ink stamp "1340"] THE SENATE OF THE UNITED STATES WASHINGTON DC WE THE UNDERSIGNED MEMBERS OF THE EXECUTIVE BOARD OF THE SAN FRANCISCO DISTRICT OF THE CALIF FEDERATION OF WOMENS CLUBS REPRESENTING A MEMBERSHIP OF SIX THOUSAND WOMEN VOTERS OF SAN FRANCISCO AND VICINITY RESPECTFULLY CALL YOUR ATTENTION TO A RESOLUTION PASSED BY OUR ORGANIZATION IN RECENT CONVENTION AT SANTA ROSA CALIF BEGGING YOUR FAVORABLE ACTION UPON THE RAKER HETCH HETCHY BILL WHICH YOU ARE NOW CONSIDERING WE BELIEVE THAT THIS RESOLUTION SHOULD BE GIVEN THE UTMOST WEIGHT AMONG ALL OF THE MASS OF ENDORSEMENTS OF AND PROTESTS AGAINST THE HETCH HETCHY BILL FOR THE REASON THAT THE WOMEN OF THIS DISTRICT HAVE BEEN FACE TO FACE WITH THE WATER PROBLEM OF SAN FRANCISCO FOR MANY YEARS AND KNOW IT AS NO OTHER WOMEN CAN POSSIBLY KNOW IT BECAUSE[stamp in purple ink "1913 DEC 3 AM 1 50"] (SHEET 2) IT HAS BEEN BEFORE US IN OUR HOMES AND IN THE MEETINGS OF OUR VARIOUS ORGANIZATIONS AND WE HAVE GIVEN IT CONSCIENTIOUS STUDY WE HAVE PASSED THESE RESOLUTIONS WITH ACKNOWLEDGE OF THE FACTS AMONG OUR MEMBERS ARE MANY WHOSE HOMES IN SAN FRANCISCO ARE WITHOUT SEMBLANCE OF FIRE PROTECTION AND WHOSE HEALTH IS ENDANGERED THROUGH THE NECESSITY OF MAKING DOMESTIC USE OF WATER COMING FROM QUESTIONABLE SOURCES WE KNOW THE THOROUGHNESS WITH WHICH SAN FRANCISCO HAS STUDIES THIS QUESTION WE STAND UPON THE FINDINGS OF THE FEDERAL COMMISSION OF ARMY ENGINEERS APPOINTED BY OUR GOVERNMENT TO STUDY OUR PROBLEM WE HAVE GIVEN CONSIDERATION TO THE POSSIBLE INJURY OF CITIZENS OF OTHER SECTIONS AND BELIEVE THAT THE RAKER BILL IS A JUST AND HONORABLE BILL PROTECTING PERSONS WHO HAVE ANY INTERESTS IN THE WATERS FLOWING THROUGH THE HETCH HETCHY WE DO NOT AGREE WITH THOSE PERSONS WHO IN OUR OPINION ARE MISGUIDED IN ADVANCING FINE DRAWN DISTINCTIONS AS TO WHETHER THE HETCH HETCHY IS MORE PICTURESQUE AS IT IS THAN IT WILL BE WHEN ITS FLOOR IS COVERED BY A BEAUTIFUL LAKE[stamp in purple ink "1913 DEC 3 AM 1 50"] (SHEET 3) WE CANNOT BELIEVE THAT YOU WILL ALLOW THIS QUIBBLE TO ENTER INTO A QUESTION OF THIS KIND WHILE SAN FRANCISCO IS IN DESPERATE NEED OF WATER WE WANT WATER WITH JUSTICE TO ALL AND WE BEG TO AGAIN RESPECTFULLY CALL YOUR ATTENTION TO OUR FINDINGS AS EXPRESSED IN ON OUR RESOLUTIONS MRS PERCY S SHUMAN, PRESIDENT MRS PERCY KING VICE PRESIDENT MRS LEWIS E AUBURY COR SECRETARY MRS NATHAN FRANK REC SECRETARY MRS HENRY HANSEN TREASURER MRS H FINKLER AUDITOR MRS LILLIAN H COFFIN CHAIRMAN LEGISLATION MRS R V S BERRY CHAIRMAN ART MISS JENNIE PARTRIDGE CHAIRMAN CIVICS MRS J VICKERSON CHAIRMAN RECIPROCITY MRS C E CUMBERSON CHAIRMAN PEACE OR MARIANA BERTOLA CHAIRMAN HEALTH MRS NORMAN MARTIN CHAIRMAN PRESS MRS ELLA M S-EXTON CHAIRMAN EDUCATION MRS JOHN JURY CHAIRMAN MUSIC MRS C BURLINGAME CHAIRMAN HISTORY AND LANDMARKS MISS NELL H COLE CHAIRMAN FORESTRY MRS F F BOSTWICK CHAIRMAN PHILANTHROPY MRS W V GRIMES CHAIRMAN CIVIL SERVICE REFORM MRS NELLIE DENANN CHAIRMAN COUNTRY LIFE MISS M B VAIL CHAIRMAN HOUSEHOLD ECONOMICS MRS LOUIS HERTZ CHAIRMAN INDUSTRIAL AND SOCIAL CONDITIONS. 113AM

[fluentmoviequoter]

to being ghosts.

Chapter 3 - Treason Unordinary

Chapter Warnings: angst with a tiny sliver of fluff, mentions of death (fem!r) and executions, world-building. 5.1k+ words.

Your initial reaction upon entering Victor Vale’s safehouse outside of San Francisco was like an interruption. He, Sydney, Mitch, and Dol had grown comfortable in a domestic pattern on the run but made a sense of home wherever they went because of their unique bond. Then, when they decided to stay in one place and wait for you, there was an opportunity to settle into a routine, to be content and alone with one another, forgetting the world outside and all the changes everyone else went through.

When you walked in, it upset the domesticity, if only for a moment. As Victor learned to trust you, he kept Sydney at arm’s length, unwilling to let you get too close.

Now, you have fallen into the trap of alluring domesticity, too. Victor trusts you, Sydney feels safe beside you, and Mitch has been more help than you ever dreamed of having. The feeling of belonging, the sense that you finally found a place where you fit, living alongside other ghosts, threatens to blind you to your mission.

“What are you doing?” Victor asks.

“Mitch looked around online to see if I’d been reported missing or anything,” you answer softly.

“And?”

“There’s nothing. I’d bet that Daniels is lying to Smoak, pretending that he left me somewhere to protect me from your charms.”

Victor steps into your room, his brows raised as he repeats, “My charms?”

Sighing, you admit, “When Smoak told us about you for the first time, he said that Eli could charm women pretty easily, and he and Daniels warned me not to let you do the same to me. Smoak didn’t even know for sure what your powers were but told me not to let you get to me.”

“Yet here you are.”

“Was that a joke?” you ask excitedly. “Did Victor Vale just make a joke about using his charms to win me over?”

 “No. Did Smoak say anything else? Something that could help us take the NWA and the charter down, for good?”

“Not really. He gave us assignments, and even then, we got the bare minimum. Finding you was a stroke of luck.”

“My name’s pronounced Mitch,” Mitch calls from across the hall. “And you’re welcome!”

“What do we do now?” Victor asks.

“Truthfully, I have no idea, Victor. I’ve been running on adrenaline, hope, and a half-cocked plan to get all of the EOs in one place.”

Victor looks over his shoulder before closing your door and walking to the foot of your bed.

“You’ve shared a lot,” he begins.

“It’s the least I can do, given everything you’re doing to help me and other EOs.”

Victor sighs, lowering to sit on your bed. “Do you still want to hear about midnight?”

Sitting up to lean toward Victor, you nod.

“Then I guess we should start at Lockland, where I met Eli Cardale…”

✯✯✯✯✯

Sitting on one end of the couch, with Sydney beside you and Victor on the other side of her, you feel like part of a family. It’s been years since you felt anything like this, and you wish this moment would last forever.

“How many doctors are in the NWA?” Victor asks. “I can’t imagine spending all that time and money on med school just to be forced into a genocidal army.”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “But don’t worry, you wouldn’t have been they’re type anyway.”

“As if I would have let them find me.”

“Why are we staying hidden?” Sydney interjects. “I understood at first, while you figured out what to do, but it’s been a while now, and we’re still completely alone. No more EOs, no plan to save the world, just… waiting.”

“Unfortunately, it’s part of getting the world back, Syd,” you explain. “And I’m not just saying this because I don’t have a plan, which I don’t. But we should not go outside until we are prepared to deal with anything and everything that the NWA could throw at us. Daniels will be looking for Victor, and maybe for me, I don’t know. When or if he finds him, Smoak will call in backup, and with Victor gone, it’ll be open season for EOs.”

“You make it sound like Vic is keeping EOs safe,” Sydney murmurs.

“In a way, he is.”

“How so?” Victor asks, closing the book in his lap. “Most people don’t even know I exist.”

“Maybe not, but they know someone out there defeated EON, and that there is an EO important enough to keep most of the heat away from the ones that hide their powers or kept living like nothing changed.”

“How do they do that; live like nothing changed?”

“There’s no way to spot an EO just by looking at them,” Victor answers.

“Right,” you agree. “And people have accidents, brain tumors, loads of things that result in death, and then they get brought back. My first year as a cop, I died for nearly a minute before they brought me back, but nothing happened, and I kept doing my job.”

“You died?” Victor and Sydney ask together.

“Barely,” you reply playfully. “But my point is that finding EOs is harder than it seems. So as long as there’s someone like Victor, a known EO, for the NWA to focus on, the unknown EOs have some hope, a sense of safety they can rely on.”

“What about the ones your NWA friends are killing?” Sydney inquires.

“I hate that it’s happening, but there’s nothing I can do right now, Syd. When our time is right, we’re going to save as many as we can, but for now we need to focus on staying alive to create a plan to do that.”

“Seems like a lot of work.”

“Well, not everyone has atom bombs,” Victor mutters.

“Was that another joke?” you ask, turning toward him.

“No.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Vic, Dol needs a walk,” Sydney says, looking at the book you found between two rafters in the attic. “He’s asking for a change, so he wants you to take him.”

“You can raise the dead, not talk to animals,” Victor argues, reading the last unaltered page of his parents’ second book.

“You don’t know everything about me. I know my dog, and he wants you to take him outside.”

“I’ll go,” you offer, chuckling at their antics.

You open the door for Dol, and follow him outside into the California forest. The trees are thick and green, and the new lack of pollution and population did wonders for the wildlife and scenery. Dol barks as he circles a tree, and you smile as you watch him run around, using up the energy he stored sitting beside Sydney.

When Dol is finished, he runs back in the open front door. Enjoying the fresh air and feeling completely hidden, you look up toward the light coming through the trees. The New World Charter headquarters feels like one of the floating cities from an old sci-fi movie: sterile with overbearing leaders; here, you can take a deep breath and be in nature again.

“What’s it like where you’re from?” Victor asks, joining your side.

“It was beautiful. Being outside, patrolling, was one of my favorite parts of being a cop, too. There’s nothing like this.”

“And the rest of the world?”

“The beauty is still there, it’s just nothing like it was before. Vic… I’m scared that even if we succeed, if the EOs take out Smoak and the New World Charter is dissolved, that nothing will really change. People will still be scared of what’s different, and the peace will be short-lived before another dictator slides into the opening left by Smoak. We can’t fight this fight forever.”

“You need a break. Thinking about it, the world and the future, every minute of every day is going to drive you crazy.”

“Which is something you know well, right?”

“Very funny.”

Victor looks up, following your line of sight through the green treetops. He’s enjoying the domesticity nearly as much as you are, but he knows the safety won’t last forever.

“Care for a break from saving the world?”

Smiling as you look down, turning your attention to the NWA’s most wanted ExtraOrdinary, you ask, “What do you have in mind?”

“Syd has been asking to see San Francisco.”

“Shame she didn’t get to experience the crowds and the smell of the wharf when it was actually in use,” you muse.

“A real shame,” Victor agrees sarcastically. “Get your jacket, and I’ll get Syd. Getting some air may even do you some good; maybe you’ll have a plan by the time we get back.”

“You’re the nerd here,” you remind him as you follow him inside. “You start brainstorming and I’ll procrastinate until the night before the due date.”

“I’m not sure that’s wise considering how many lives hang in the balance. An entire race is completely reliant on your ability to find a weakness in the NWA.”

“Haven’t failed a project yet, of ye of little faith.”

“Sydney, get your jacket. We’re going to see San Francisco... what it looks like when it’s completely deserted.”

“I don’t get an invitation?” Mitch asks.

“Someone has to watch Dol,” Victor replies.

“Do you want to go?” you ask.

“Not a bit. Have fun. Bring me a t-shirt or something.”

“Yeah, I’ll look for one that says, ‘I survived the San Francisco evacuation’ or something.”

“Perfect.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Where’s the bridge? No, wait, the wharf! Ooh, or should we go to the square first?” Sydney rambles as you walk through the woods.

“The square?” Victor asks, glancing at you.

“Ghirardelli Square. You’re going to hate it, so if we find any leftover product, Sydney and I should handle it,” you answer with a wink toward Sydney.

“I’m an EO, not an alien, I know what Ghirardelli is.”

“Guys, focus!” Sydney calls. “Where should we go first?”

“Where are we from the bridge? If we get to the bridge and enter San Francisco that way, we can hit everything within a few hours of walking,” you reply. “But, Syd… it’s not the San Francisco you saw on tv or anything. It’s a ghost town.”

“Good thing we’re ghosts, then,” Victor adds.

“You’re telling me there’s no George of the Jungle here now?” Sydney pouts.

“Never should have told her about that movie,” Victor says to himself.

“Syd, just- just be alert, okay? We’re here to have fun, take a break, but it doesn’t mean there aren’t other people here. This is The Stand or The Last of Us, not-“

“Planet of the Apes?” Victor offers.

“Not at all the direction I was going, but sure. My point is that there may be people here, people who are hiding for one reason or another, or just got left behind and couldn’t get anywhere alone.”

“I understand,” Sydney responds, several steps ahead of you.

“Hey,” Victor murmurs, tapping your arm. He pulls his hand away at the sting of your skin on his. “Relax. We’re going to be fine. Then, when we get back to the house, we come up with a plan to take the world back.”

“And you said this wasn’t a movie,” you say, smiling before jogging toward Sydney.

✯✯✯✯✯

“It’s huge!” Sydney exclaims when San Francisco comes into view.

The Golden Gate Bridge is beginning to become visible in the dissipating fog, and the dark metropolis laid out below it seems larger than life. Most people now live in NWC zones, which are big and overbearing in their own way but nothing like the wonders that San Francisco and the likes used to be. NWC zones are locked down, have strict curfews, and are packed with more people than used to be legal.

“Thank you, Vic,” you say as you continue walking toward the bridge. “I needed this, and Sydney did too.”

 “We all did.”

“What are the chances we can actually find Mitch a souvenir?”

“In a city like this? I’d say pretty good; even picked over, there’s got to be a keychain or something around here.”

“So, this is what a first date with you was like?” you tease. “Walking around and talking about the mathematical likelihood of finding something worth doing?”

“I, uh, I don’t know.”

“Wait, Vic,” you say, grabbing the sleeve of his trench coat to stop him. “You didn’t go on dates? Are you kidding me?”

“Didn’t meet the right person, I suppose. At least not until-“

“Angie, right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Syd is halfway to Canada, though.”

You look up quickly, sighing as you see Sydney looking around a few paces ahead of you.

“Since the mathematical likelihood of me surviving this battle of ghosts and goblins,” you begin.

“Ghosts and what?” Victor repeats incredulously.

“Care to make this my last first date? I mean, my dating record isn’t stellar, but if I have to go out with one good date, I think this could be it.”

“Did you inhale a toxic fungus in the woods or something?”

“I already told Sydney this isn’t The Last of Us. Seriously, Vic, you said this little trip is supposed to be a break, a distraction from what we’re about to do, what we’re up against. So, what do you say?”

“You want to go on a date with me, an EO, and Sydney, an EO I found on the side of the road, in an abandoned city? I thought you said your dating record wasn’t stellar, but if the bar is this low it’s completely dismal.”

“Could’ve just said no, Vic,” you answer, chuckling as you move toward Sydney.

“I- life would have been a lot different if we had met in the old world,” Victor replies. “If this is what you want to remember if this doesn’t go our way, who am I to stop you from actually enjoying part of being a ghost?”

“Are you asking me out?”

“Will you stop talking if I do?”

You nod, and Victor points his chin toward Sydney and the growing distance between you and her. Rushing up the hill, you catch up with her and walk beside her, smiling over your shoulder at Victor as you walk across the Golden Gate Bridge into the heart of San Francisco.

“Where to after we cross it?” Sydney asks.

“We’ll turn left onto Beach Street, which will take us straight to Ghirardelli and then Fisherman’s Wharf,” you answer. Victor raises his eyebrows, and you add, “I looked at a map of San Francisco for fourteen hours straight while I was trying to find you. If it’s on a map, I can probably get you there.”

Victor shakes his head, and you fall into a comfortable silence as you walk. Sydney stops to look at Alcatraz, and you return to Victor’s side, smiling as you silently thank him for everything.

✯✯✯✯✯

As you walk out of Fisherman’s Wharf, with an ‘I <3 San Francisco’ keychain tucked in your pocket for Mitch, you ask Sydney what her favorite part was. Victor tries to listen to her answer but feels the unmistakable sensation of being watched. He slows, looking around but coming up empty. The city seems dead, and he hasn’t even seen an animal in the few hours you have spent in San Francisco. When you slow, though, Victor rushes toward you.

You feel it, too, but you recognize the eyes on you. They’re the same eyes you felt after faking EO deaths and the ones you missed after sending Rock away.

“Vic,” you whisper when he comes into view.

“I know. I can’t see anyone though,” Victor answers.

“What’s going on?” Sydney interjects, whispering to match your volume.

“Get her out of here, Vic,” you demand, moving your hand to the gun on your waistband.

“We’re not leaving you!” Sydney replies.

“Syd, this is my part of the fight. It doesn’t have to be yours. Vic.”

Victor nods, grabbing Sydney’s shoulders and steering her away from you. They disappear around a corner, out of sight, and you take a deep breath as you accept that you may never see them again. Tapping the keychain in your pocket, you hope Mitch can forgive you for not giving his souvenir to him.

“I got Vic and Syd back,” you remind yourself softly.

Turning slowly, you stop abruptly when someone steps out of the shadows. He says your name, and you immediately come to terms with dying in San Francisco. Sydney and Victor are safe and can create a plan to save the world, so you succeeded in helping one person.

“Daniels,” you reply. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Not like I’ve been looking for you and the monsters you are so comfortable around,” he says darkly.

“What do you want, Daniels? You will never find Victor Vale, and he will take every single one of you out to protect himself and the other EOs.”

“I’d like to see him try. But, I’m not here for him right now. I’m sure you sent him away, running like a hamster on a wheel, stalled in one place.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

 “No.”

“Why’d you leave the Army to join a team of dictators, Brian?”

Daniels chuckles, pulling his gun from its holster before leveling it on you. “You are guilty of treason, punishable by execution at the order of the New World Agency.”

“If you were going to kill me, you would have done it already. What are you waiting for, Brian Daniels, retired U.S. Army Ranger-“

“Stop!” Daniels screams.

Smiling, you know you’re under his skin, getting to him by showing him that you know more about him than he knows about you. While he’s distracted by your comments, you pull your gun, holding it between your legs and the crate before you.

“You are under arrest,” Daniels yells.

“I’d like a lawyer,” you reply sarcastically.

Daniels steps toward you, and you lower as you hear footsteps in an alley. Victor is still close, and he needs help getting out unnoticed.

“Go!” you yell as you begin shooting.

Giving cover fire, you keep Daniels distracted as Victor and Sydney disappear into the shadows, where they feel most comfortable. Daniels ducks out of sight, and when the last shot’s echo dies away, he begins laughing.

“You’re a stupid, stupid girl!” he yells. “And you can’t take us!”

You don’t ask, but you wonder who ‘us’ is. Before you can think much about it, several NWA helicopters begin circling. When ropes drop from the helicopters and soldiers descend into San Francisco, you move backward toward an alley opening. If you can keep the army before you, you have an escape route and a chance of surviving. Your chances will never be good again, but the idea that you can run helps keep your hopes up, if only for a moment. Remembering that Victor and Sydney have a head start and plan to leave rips your hope away again. You’re alone, one woman with a half-empty ammo magazine against an army of trained killers.

Pushing your back against a wall, unwilling to be taken out from the back, you smile. You saved one, and that was always the goal. Knowing that Sydney is the one you saved and you were lucky enough to spend time with her, get to know her, and care for her makes what happens next easier.

A soldier rushes toward you, and you fire a single shot, watching as he crumples to the ground. His body armor should have protected him; yes, he would’ve fallen from the velocity of the bullet, but he shouldn’t have folded in pain like that. Raising slowly, you hear a few pained screams and rush to look out over Daniels’ reinforcements.

Every single soldier is on the ground. Most are unconscious, but others are screaming or crying, clearly in pain. You know what causes pain like this, but you also know that he could have done it from a distance if he saw them lower from the helicopter.

✯✯✯✯✯

“We can’t leave her, Vic!” Sydney argues as he pushes her into an alley.

“We’re not, Syd, I promise. But we need to regroup, I need a plan. If we run out there blind, we’ll all get killed.”

“Just hurt him, Vic! He’s going to kill her if you don’t!”

Your voice is barely audible, but Victor catches your taunt, “If you were going to kill me, you would have done it already. What are you waiting for?”

“He wouldn’t have come alone. He’s misogynistic, not blind. Daniels knows what she’s capable of, just as well as we do.”

“He’s hiding something?” Sydney clarifies.

“A big something, presumably.”

Victor begins to speak, but his words are drowned out by helicopters overhead.

“There’s his backup,” he hums to himself.

Sydney pulls Victor’s sleeve, pointing to the end of the alley. A soldier is approaching, and as Victor turns the pain dial, a bullet makes contact with his chest plate. Victor hides his smile, glad you’re not going down without a fight.

Rushing to the end of the alley, Victor extends his pain radius, turning the dial as high as it goes with no warning. Men scream, though most of them lose consciousness before the pain registers.

“Where is she?” Sydney whispers.

Victor weighs his options quickly before pushing the dial again and yelling your name.

✯✯✯✯✯

When Victor yells your name, you don’t hesitate to turn away from the NWA troops and rush to him and Sydney. You run into him, wrapping your arms around him as you hug him tightly.

“Yeah, yeah, glad you’re okay, too, but we need to go,” he replies, awkwardly patting your back.

You nod as you pull back, taking Sydney’s hand and running behind Victor. As you near the bridge, you call Victor’s name.

“We’re going to be visible the entire way across. Those helos are coming back,” you remind him.

“Then tell me what to do,” he replies. “Take a chance and go the fastest route, or stay here longer to find another way?”

“Can you do what you did back there to the helo pilots?”

“Of course, I can.”

“Then let’s go.”

You pull Sydney with you, apologizing as you run across the Golden Gate Bridge. The fog has rolled back in, and Alcatraz looks far more menacing than it did a few hours ago when you came into the city.

“Are you okay?” Sydney asks between short breaths.

“I’m fine,” you promise. “And I’m sorry I brought you into that.”

“That’s on me,” Victor adds, running ahead of you. “But now we have an idea of what we’re up against!”

“Vic died after using his powers for a while,” Sydney tells you. “I was worried it would happen again.”

“That hasn’t happened in months!”

“But it could? Vic, you can’t use your powers if it puts your life at stake!” you argue.

“It’s already at stake! I’ll die if I don’t, but I might die if I do. Besides, I came back every time.”

“That’s not comforting!”

When you reach the tree line, entering the forest, you slow, still moving but taking the chance to catch your breath.

“You didn’t tell me that, Victor,” you say. “I never would have asked for your help.”

“I’m not incapable of fighting for myself and Sydney and Mitch,” he replies, his voice dark and even, not unlike the night you met. “And clearly I can save you at a moment’s notice.”

“That is not the problem!”

“Then what is?”

“I can’t let you die fighting my fight!”

Your chest is heaving, partly from the exertion of running miles without a break and partly from your anger at Victor. He should have told you so that you could find a way to work around it. If he dies trying to save you, then you lose an EO regardless. Worse, you lose an EO that you care about.

“It’s my fight, too.”

“Move, Vic.”

“We’re not done.”

“We’re not moving and there are people hunting us! Move!”

Victor clenches his jaw before breaking into another run. Sydney runs behind him, and you bring up the rear of your team of misfits. Part of you wants to get them to safety and leave, but you know you can’t do this without Victor Vale, not the fight against the New World or living life after. You need Victor far more than he needs you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Mitch,” Victor says as he walks in. “Get your stuff. We’re leaving.”

“What happened to you three?” Mitch asks, his eyes wide as he looks you over.

“Got into a fight for this,” you reply, passing him the keychain.

“I- thank you?”

“Daniels found me. He brought an army to bring me in for treason, but Victor saved me.”

“You saved me first,” Victor grumbles, clearly mad at you.

Mitch raises his brows, silently asking what you did. You shake your head before entering the room you’ve grown comfortable in. All your stuff fits in a backpack you found in a nearby storage shed. Once you’re packed, you sit at the foot of the bed and consider running.

Victor opens your door, steps inside, and closes it again.

“Do you knock?” you ask softly.

“I want you to tell me what that was back there. If you don’t trust me, there’s no reason for you to stay and keep putting Sydney and Mitch in danger.”

“Trust? You want to talk about trust, Victor? When you told me how your powers work, you might have mentioned ‘oh, and sometimes I die for a few minutes after using them.’ Was I just supposed to find out when you collapsed in the middle of saving someone?”

“I didn’t tell you because it’s getting better. Sydney found a fix.”

“A temporary fix from the sound of things.”

“Why does it matter? If it is fixed long enough to survive this war, it doesn’t matter. Either I die fighting or I survive and we find a better option after. Why is that so hard for you to understand?”

“I understand perfectly, Victor.”

“This is a weird way to thank me for saving your life.”

“I am thankful for that. But if saving my life is going to cost you yours…” You stand from the bed and step toward Victor, only a few inches between your chests. “Then let me die.”

Victor’s eyes remain on yours, pale, intense, and unblinking. “The question was about you.”

“What?” you ask, blinking at the sudden change in topic.

“That night that you asked if I’d use my powers on a good person for a better reason. You were asking if I’d let you die, or kill you, to win this fight against the New World.”

Licking your lips, you avoid replying.

“I apologize for not telling you. But if you want complete transparency from me, I’m going to need the same in return.”

“Vic?” Sydney calls from the hallway. “We’re ready.”

“And we’re ghosts again,” you hum, turning to pick up your backpack. “Thanks for the date, Victor. Sorry I ruined it.”

“Still the best date I’ve been on in a while,” he murmurs.

“And you said my dating record is dismal.”

Victor shakes his head as he opens the door for you. He’s grown attached to the domesticity, though he’d refuse to admit it. As he closes the door, separating himself from one of the few things that brought him comfort, Victor sighs.

You can tell that this fight will weigh on him, and worrying about you, Mitch, and Sydney will wear him down before the fight even begins. Laying a hand between his shoulder blades, you ask him to hang back with you.

“I need you to know that I appreciate you for saving me, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to,” you explain quietly, walking behind Sydney, Dol, and Mitch.

“You expect me to just stand by and watch you die? That’s not going to happen,” he argues.

“Vic, I’m a soldier. I made my peace with dying a long time ago.”

“Well, I didn’t,” Victor snaps. “I’m not going to let another innocent person die for this EO debate. I have lost friends and enemies alike, and I refuse to lose another.”

“Friend or enemy?”

Victor glances over his shoulder at you. “Equal.”

“Sounds like a friend to me.”

Victor sighs, internally glad that your personality is returning. He’s sure that you were worried, most likely about Sydney.

Boise. The sudden thought is unwelcome, and clearly not yours.

“Vic, if I told you we needed to go to Boise, what would you say?” you ask.

“I’d ask how you came up with Boise, Idaho.”

“What if I told you a ghost told me?”

Victor puts an arm out to stop you. “Is there a voice in your head? One that tells you where to go?”

“You have it too?”

Victor looks between your eyes and the crease between your brows.

“I thought it was just my intuition or something,” you murmur.

“My turn to ask a hypothetical,” Victor says. “If you noticed a pattern, that the voice was leading you into dangerous situations that somehow turned out alright… would you think they were related?”

“Are you asking me if I think the ghost is leading us where we need to be to win this fight? Putting us in trouble to get out of more trouble?”

“If I was?”

“Vic, I’m with you in this. Drop the hypotheticals and say what you want to say.”

“Whatever this voice is – a ghost, a shared intuition, common mission, however you want to define it – it is helping us. I don’t think our question should be about what it is though.”

“You want to know why.”

“You don’t?”

“That voice has led me straight to you, away from a life that I hated, so I- I guess I trust it. For now, at least. But, yeah, I’d like to know why. You’re forgetting a big one, though.”

“Being?”

“Vic, who is it?”

Sydney yells your name, and you tap Victor’s shoulder before passing him to talk to Sydney. Mitch trades spots with you, moving to Victor’s side.

“I told you that she was trustworthy,” Mitch says.

“You did. One of these days I’ll start trusting you, too,” Victor answers.

“Vic, this isn’t going to be easy. The pain and sacrifice we’ve experienced is only a fraction of what lies ahead of us.”

“I can accept that. I can accept a lot of things, but I refuse to let anything happen to the four of you.”

“And she wants you to?”

 “I don’t know what she wants. Besides the old world and freedom for EOs.”

“I’ve got an idea of what she wants,” Mitch teases.

“That you won’t share, right?”

“Right.”

As Sydney talks, you realize that the life you lost in the transition to the New World made way for this one. While it isn’t perfect, you like where you are. Being by Victor’s side, with Sydney, Dol, and Mitch, it’s good, even if it isn’t safe. When the fight is over, though, what happens then?

[nanowrimo]

30 Covers, 30 Days 2023: Day 11

Representing day 11 is a page turner of a novel! Get it? Let's introduce Turning the Page by Jess King, a LGBTQ+ novel. This cover was designed by the amazing returning designer, Rachel Gogel!

Turning the Page

Ellie and Ryan meet when Ellie escapes her hometown for the small town she grew up in. The two women have seemingly nothing in common, but both have a passion for keeping Ellie's grandmother's bookstore alive. Romance blossoms between them as they get the bookstore back into fighting shape, but when family drama threatens the bookstore's longevity, the two women team up to prevent its closure.

About the Author

The author is currently keeping their identity a secret!

About the Designer

Rachel Gogel is a Parisian creative director, designer, educator, and speaker based in San Francisco, California. Currently, she runs her own independent consultancy practice as a solopreneur where her approach is informed by experiences both in-house and agency side. As a fractional design executive and queer leader, Rachel believes in fostering inclusive spaces that unlock human potential. Specifically, she is committed to designing teams that build brands — with a focus on culture and technology. Over the last fifteen years, Rachel has led major initiatives at GQ, The New York Times, Meta, Godfrey Dadich, Departures, Airbnb, and Dropbox. Beyond this, Rachel seeks to influence the next creative generation as a design educator at the California College of the Arts��(CCA) and as the Women in Leadership & Design (WILD) Chair on the AIGA SF Board of Directors. She is also an avid public speaker, workshop facilitator, and mentor on ADPList and Talk To A Creative Director. All of these platforms amplify Rachel's commitment to supporting women- and nonbinary-led causes and addressing gender-based disparities in the design industry.

Rachel Gogel

she/her/hers

Independent Design Executive & Educator

https://www.linkedin.com/in/rachelgogel/

rachelgogel.com @rgogel (Threads, Instagram, X)