#sunrise youth organization

[bunnys-kisses]

may I perchance have some blueberry muffins w a side of mocha coffee? maybe with fernando or oscar 😋😋

bakery menu

if you want to order a dessert for yourself, follow the link to the original post! as for this lovely anon, thank you for the request, i chose fernando because i've gotten quite a few for oscar already and wanted to shake things up! but i promise he's a lovely server too!

blueberry muffin ("i don't think it'll fit.") + mocha coffee (breeding kink) served by fernando alonso (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, breeding kink, size kink, girlfriend!reader, pregnancy, semi-public sex

fernando was a good lover. a good boyfriend, he loved the sight of you. you were just so perfect for him. and yet, you still surprised him at every turn. 

  “i want a baby.” you said over morning coffee. fernando almost choked on his breakfast at the statement. a baby? like a mini alonso running around? the thought made him give you a look and you responded, “fernando, you and i aren't getting any younger. you keep talking about wanting to retire eventually, so why not grow our little family.” you gave him a sweet smile. 

he was a sucker for your smile, it was like witnessing a sunrise when you beamed at him. like being greeted with warmth. he could never deny his beautiful girlfriend anything. you did however have a point, you two weren't getting any younger. and while you were younger than him, his was in his forties. and at a certain point a father can't really be a father if he's too old.

the idea of you pregnant however, softened the blow of the request. his precious girlfriend coming to the paddock with her lovely swollen middle on display for the rest of them to see. you already were quite the looker with a friendly personality to match! 

he couldn't say no, that was why he said to you, your hand in his, “yes, of course.” 

-

you were nothing if not determined. when you got your mind put to something, you see it till the end. and that meant trying every attempt you could to get yourself pregnant. now fernando wondered in his youth what it would be like to have a beautiful woman constantly want to have sex with him, it felt like a dream.  but maybe it was age or the wear and tear from years of driving, but to have a beautiful younger woman constantly touching him left him with a sore back and aching balls. 

don't get him wrong, he'd happily make love to you every time you asked. but, when you were happily riding him in his driver's room right before a race. he thought his head was going to explode. 

it was dutch grand prix and fernando was getting himself organized in his driver's room when he heard a knock on the door. he called for the person to come in and was greeted by the sweet sound of your voice. 

  “you know, you always looked good in your driver's suit.” 

he smiled at you, “and how are you, mi amor?” he came over to you and wrapped his arms around you. he leaned in to kiss you on the lips, “wishing me good luck?” 

you played with the zipper of his suit and replied, “well, i always love seeing the love of my life right before a race. you also looked so handsome even with the helmet off.” you laughed a little before you kissed him once more, “plus.” you leaned in a little bit and whispered in his ear, “i think we have some time before you have to go win the grand prix for me.”

  “time?” he asked.

you giggled, “yeah.” you raised your skirt a little bit to show off your sweet cunt to your boyfriend, “i told you, i was taking this seriously.”

fernando relaxed a little on the couch and raised his eyebrows at you, “oh really? right before a race, mi amor?”

you nodded and watched your boyfriend sit down on the couch and get his cock out of his pants. he stroked it as he looked at you. he watched you get out of your skirt and underwear. just to make it a lot easier because that skirt was quite long. seeing you bottom half nude made his mouth dry for a moment. 

he relaxed a little bit and took you by the hips. you covered your mouth with your hand and slowly sank down on his cock. your heart raced at the feeling of his length buried inside of you. your heart fluttered as you felt his cock nudged against your pussy. you clenched your jaw as you finally started to fully sink down on his cock. but you had to go slow, for the stretch was a lot. 

  “pretty girl.” he purred, “you're so determined to get your lover to get you pregnant.” his cock throbbed a little bit, “you want an alonso running around the place? getting into all kinds of trouble? you want to be a mother to all my children?”

you nodded and pulled your hand away to hold onto his shoulders, “i don't think it'll fit.” you said.

"well, if it can't fit then you can't get pregnant." he said. he knew it could fit, but it took a lot to get you fully seated on him. he massaged your hips to help you relax before he fully got you seated on his cock. he peppered your face with kisses, "see. it fit."

you whined a little at the fullest in your pussy. you tried so hard to keep yourself composed as to not cause a scene. but your boyfriend's voice was in your ear.

"that's a good girl. you want to be mrs. alonso, the happy mother of my children. you've been trying so hard, mi amor." he laughed as he groped at your breasts, playing with your nipples between his fingers, "such a pretty girl."

you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you rocked your hips. your body was starting to crave his cum, the feeling of his cock into of your sweet pussy. you yearned for it ALL.

fernando was an amazing lover, he always knew what you needed. even if he knew there would be a little pain on him when he had to race. watching you on top of him, rubbing your clit against his pubic bone as you have his entire cock in you.

he held you face and kissed you softly, "i'm surprised you didn't ask sooner. your sweet pussy wants me so badly. i bet while i was away you were constantly thinking about me. having me get you nice and full with my children."

your cunt clenched around his hard cock as you started to move faster. the pleasure coursed through your body as you moved. your pretty tits bounced so nicely for him. his eyes lingered on them for a moment, wishing that he could've taken your shirt off too.

but now wasn't the time, it was going to have to wait until you got back to the hotel room.

"i know you'll make a great mama for my babies.' he chuckled, "keep you nice and busy making sure they're all taken care of. give those future drivers a run for their money." he beamed at you.

you kissed him once more and really worked your hips against his cock. you panted and moaned softly against his lips and felt the heat wash over you. you needed him so badly.

and he needed you more than anything. you were so perfect for him. he could feel the heat course through his body, only made worse by the amount of layers he was wearing.

"please." you said, "cum in me."

"always, mi amor." he said as he stationed both hands on your hips to really get deep in you. his cock really hit against every of your softest parts. you felt like you were on cloud nine, but you couldn't drift off. you had a job to finish.

the pace was erratic, but you were both clawing at the chance to finish.

"i'm going to be such a good man for you. you're going to be doing all this hard work to raise my children. i might as well make sure that i am taking care of you return. my precious girl." he groaned as he shoved you down on his cock a few times and finished inside of you.

you clasped your hands over your mouth once more to keep yourself from being far too loud. this wasn't your private home. this was in fact almost a public space and now it reeked of your rabbit-like fucking.

you both came at the same time and you slowed your pace down to a soft stop. then you just laid your head on your boyfriend's shoulder for a moment to compose yourself. your hands knotted in the fabric of his driver's suit.

he held you by the back of your head and showered your face in kissed. "that was good." he panted, the heat was heavy in his body. he'd need some water to cool off soon.

you nodded, "yes, perfect." you got off his cock with a wet noise and made a soft moaning noise. it was almost cute.

he didn't want to think about the possibility of your wetness or his cum staining the fabric of his driver's suit. he wiped the sweat off his forehead and relaxed onto the couch. he felt you rub your pussy up against his softening cock. he loved his girlfriend and even though he got into the car with a bit of back pain, his heart was yours. 

-

  “mrs. alonso! mrs. alonso!” one of the pa's for the team your husband drove for was following behind you, “oh my god, how can a six month pregnant woman walk this fast.”

the poor pa was in charge of making sure that the very pregnant wife of fernando alonso was safe and not getting herself into trouble (something you'd deny you ever did!)

fernando was standing with lance when he caught the sight of you approaching. he chuckled and waved to the pa before he went to grab you in his arms. he wrapped them around your shoulders and pressed a kiss on your temple. “what are you doing?”

  “i wanted to see you before the race, you were taking too long.” you joked as you leaned in to kiss him on the lips. he chuckled against your touch before you pulled away, “i wanted to wish you good luck.”

fernando placed a hand on your middle and gave it a good rub. he said, “i'm sorry, mi amor.” he kissed your forehead once more, “now why don't you get comfortable before the race happens. no need to worry about me.” he kissed you again. 

you replied, “fine, but you better do well, mister alonso.” 

he smiled back his (newly wed) and said, “of course, for you and for our son.” it was a bit of a shock that fernando seemed to be doing better in his final season before retirement!

[yautjalover]

I’ve seen a lot of folks who are in the dumps concerning the recent big event in the US and I’ve got a few words for my fellow Americans. Folks from abroad are free to listen as well. 🫂

Get to know your neighbors. Join local organizations to help your community thrive. Be kind to the unhoused. Offer that spare cash to the hungry. Help the elderly, if you’re able. Put that anger and despair into action, whether it be online or in-person. Volunteer in community outreach programs, shelters, youth centers, and food pantries. Spread empathy and love.

Like the Yautja, the fictional species we love dearly, put your emotions into action! Promote love, kindness, empathy, charity, cooperation, and goodwill.

Let yourself cry and vent. It’s good to let your emotions flow, but once those tears have dried up, direct that anger and frustration into action and engage with friends, neighbors, and your community.

Put down the phone or shut off the computer.

Stay hydrated.

Eat something.

Get up and walk if you can.

Take your medicine and vitamins.

My disabled peeps, do what you can to get some blood flowing.

Take a shower or bath, if you’re able.

Spend time with your pet.

Hold your kids and family members.

Put on a comfort show or movie.

Read that book collecting dust on the table.

Catch up on your favorite fanfic.

Start or finish that project.

Wake up and see the sunrise.

Relax and watch the sunset.

Try and take a moment to pause, take a deep breath in, hold it, and exhale. Repeat this a few times.

Listen to the wind whistling through the trees and the birds chirping.

There are many new days to come and many nights to rest.

Gaze at the moon and appreciate its light.

Enjoy the beauty of the autumn leaves, those lovely shades of orange, yellow, and red.

Remember that there is goodness and beauty in this world. Take comfort in the fact that are many new days to thrive and many nights to rest.

I hope you are all well and find some stress relief in this post.

Take care of yourselves, my fellow country folk and all of you abroad. No matter our differences, remember that we’re all on this giant rock hurtling through space together. ☺️

[unexpectedbrickattack]

Compiling some Peppino-centric hcs i have bc i would like to have something to look back on as a point of reference 😌 (this is so long. SO fucking long. Im sorry)

- starting w the basics: hes a short king; 5’2 (157cm). Hes like late 40s-early 50s to me. Hes got brown eyes i never draw bc i like drawing him w dots lol. Hes particular about his appearance and grooms very consistently. Has literally no issues w balding (exposed to balding bears in his youth; thinks they are hot now 😌) and it helps that he can literally cave someones skull in if they speak ill of him. He does have a couple of comfy hats incase his hair decides to be unruly in bad weather.

- very bulky build; think of olympic strongmen/ highland games but short. Visibly muscular arms and broad shoulder, fat chest and stomach, smoother legs (fat layered over muscle; v thick thighs and calves). Hes got surgery scars on his lower back from a bullet wound (only entry/no exit point). Debated giving him a scar around his sternum from heart surgery or some other crazy injury he had but im not sure yet; the bullet extraction scar is definitely staying tho.

-does NOT work out; he used to wrestle in his late teens/early 20s but otherwise he was (still is) a man who did lots of physical labor around his childhood home and grandparents shop. Continued the cycle when he got his own home and his own restaurant; cheaper to do his own (extensive) repairs than call for specialists/contractors when u are Fucking Poor.

- he DOES exercise; he is fond of jogging. He does this alot postgame, usually in the early mornings before he opens, and at the beach on his days off. He had it drilled in v early in his life that he Needs to stay active, so he will roll out of bed and do this almost daily. On his days off he will have random people come and join him; usually pepperman or noisette. Its too tedious/boring of a task for gus and noise, and vigi is out cold until sunrise at minimum.

- he owns a HOUSE; he does not rent an apartment. This is bc i think it would be reasonable to assume that anyone who OWNS a restaurant was at some point, well off enough to own a house instead of renting. And i like the idea of him using this house as collateral; if the shop goes under, so does his home (more stress for him…). (Ive seen other people treat his shop like a duplex ie shop on the lobby level and an apartment/living space on the second floor. This is ALSO v good and coincides w my want to have his home tied to his restaurant)

- the house is small; two bedrooms, 2 1/2 baths, and a basement (where the 1/2 bath is located). BIG kitchen, small livingroom. It is surprisingly well furnished bc of his family donating things to him when he bought the house in his 30s. Lots of older wood based furniture. Hes not grossly messy (like food, bugs, etc) but he is disorganized beyond belief. Lives an ‘organized mess’ lifestyle bc of his high stress. Also extremely apathetic to his living conditions until postgame when his restaurant starts to take in profits again; less stress -> more positive time at home -> aware of the clutter as he spends more time at home.

- drives a beat up lookin car to and from work. Its his BABY; his ol reliable. He has to do lots of work to keep her intact and functioning. Eventually gets a newer car with his profits, but its rlly to help ease the strain on her so that he can take her out for drives occasionally.

-eldest of like 6 siblings; will not try to name them all just know that hes the only boy. Eldest daughter is only a year younger than him. Good relationship w all of them and his immediate family. Very matriarchal immediate family. Only a handful of uncles, his dad, and his grandpappy. Stubbornly cut off contact w everyone after the horrors (war) and refused to accept help w his failing restaurant (prideful). Eventually his (eldest) sister reaches out and he makes amends one at a time. (Gets an earful from his momma)

- works LONG hours. Awake by 4am, in noisettes cafe by 5am, in the shop by 6am. Preps and calls until opening at 9am. Closes at 9pm. Closes up FOR REAL at 10pm. Rinse n repeat. As the shop does better financially, he starts opening later and closing earlier (at the insistence of Gus). He still does his walks and his morning routine, just a little later, and he has enough time at home in the evening to cook for himself.

- on the topic of cooking, he is a good chef all around; pizza is just easier to market and consistently do Correct. Likes food alot. So much…..he isnt picky but he does go �� when eating something. Bad. And it happens Often.

- stress baked often. He felt bad about throwing out his food afterwards so he would give it away to his neighbors. No longer stress bakes but he will cook out of boredom which is not as bad but still not the best 😭 luckily he has so many freeloaders that will eat anything he makes (gus and noise)

- this is his second shop; the first one was in a larger city (think similar to pig city). Closed down due to insufficient payments, but reopened on the outskirts of the city (close to the forest) after putting up his house as collateral.

-first shop is where he first meets pizzahead. Hes offered a generous sum of cash to sell the business (which would then be converted into a ph brand shop). Obv declined. Later offered a position in pizzaheads business instead; nearly killed the man when scaring him out of his shop.

- Peppino is NOT some aggressive out of control beast (despite what pizzahead believes). He is vaguely neurotic and it is exacerbated by extreme stress and bouts of anxiety. So funny how removing the extreme stress and sources of anxiety makes him more Normal. (Somewhat encouraged by an official image i saw after i made this hc of peppinos attitude outside and inside the tower. He is relatively apathetic and inside the tower he is borderline manic. More hcs about that too)

- he is relatively fun to be with otherwise. He has some extremely dry humor. Hes incredibly sarcastic. He LIKES customer service…otherwise this would be impossible for him to endure. It helps that he Owns a shop, instead of only being a worker; he can yell at people who are rude and annoying to him and he knows (at least postgame) that he has loyal regulars.

- he is a bit of an asshole; he make snide remarks he shouldnt and hes been in his own fair share of fights bc of it. Has mellowed out drastically as he got a better grip on his emotions postgame. Only the most tolerant could really deal w him prior to postgame (gus) in part due to his anger (response to exacerbated neurosis and ptsd)

- also autistic. Extra stress bc of this. Easily overstimulated and the response to this is anger. Completely undiagnosed lmao but hes like late 40s; he just learned how to deal with it.

-common stress responses: bites on anything, usually his hand (Tried stopping this bc people would TOUCH him if he did that in front of others and that just made shit worse). Grinds his teeth. Jaw clenching. Making A Fist So Tight You Accidentally Cut Urself. Flappy hands, usually w hands balled up into a fist (specifically eyes closed; jaw clenched; head ducked, flappy hands over his ducked head). It looks ‘worse’ than biting but at least the excessive movement deters people from touching him.

- on a more positive note; knows quite a bit of magic tricks. Sleight of hand stuff is his forte. It is good for the anxiety and it keeps his hands busy. He is will consistently say that he is not good w kids but he loves entertaining them; they say the funniest shit and he likes being a bad influence on them 😈. Also teaching them tricks and letting them see behind the curtain is so fun for him; like they are so excited about silly tricks and it makes him feel a little cool….

- he is the kind of person whos like (dad voice) ‘not gettin a damn cat in my house’ and then has blackmail of him passed the fuck out with a cat on his stomach. He feeds the local strays by his shop and he cant help but feed the strays that end up by his house. He doesnt feel confident enough to take care of another animal when its so hard for him to remember to take care of himself so for now he just feeds them. But maybe soon he will take them inside…he also baby talks cats but if u caught him doing that he would kill u i think. (Pov u are the noise)

- silly hc that he has a real last name but he keeps it as spaghetti bc its funny to fuck around w people who ask him. No i dont know what his last name would be but i think it would be funny to have him ‘change’ it for branding and have people believe it. Also i think its funny to think of peppino saying this to ph somehow and he completely runs with it as gospel. Like ‘granny did u KNOW his last name is fucking spaghetti??’

- wrt young peppino, i say that w him being 20-23 in mind. Worked in his grandparents shop during this time. Worked as a line cook for some other restaurants as well (and saved up money to buy his own home while he lived w his parents and sisters). He was generally a sweetheart, just a bit odd (the Autsim and Anxiety), but that was (and still is) his charm point lol

- (SUGGESTIVE) cannot stop thinking of him as a little otter that hung out w older bears in the leather scene. He prob had his best years w them before he had to focus on other shit. He still keeps in contact w some of the peeps that were around his age postgame, and they meet up sometimes to hang along w vigilante. Now that hes older it is a bit surreal to now be the bear he used to look up to in his younger years. But its a bit flattering. Noise and Pepperman are younger than him and they both regard him w the same kind of wonder he used to give older bears. He thinks its cute lol (pepperman bc thats his muse and he sees his body type as PEAK human form, and noise bc i hc him as a bit sheltered despite the fame)

- (STILL SUGGESTIVE BUT THATS IT I SWEAR) adjacent to this; its weird for him to come back to this side of him bc hes been living in survival mode for over a decade. Got his house in his early 30s -> WAR -> comes back traumatized -> leaves family to cope -> dumps money into a restaurant to cope w leaving family. So he kinda missed it alot. Its fun to explore it w gus heehee and sometimes noise when he behaves.

-other things i wanted to mention but didnt know where to fit it. Peppino is a decent artist; he drew the logo for his shop and in general he is good at caricatures (another thing he can do to entertain a crowd; helps w anxiety to know how to not be awkward).

- Peppino is a bit of a mechanic (aka he learned bc he was broke and didnt want to call them for minor problems). Hes not a tinkerer but he likes the joy of creating sm and will make little. Creations. every once in a while. One of these creations is Peshino! He is a wooden windup toy made as a prototype for a more mechanical, mass produced version. He was intended to be sold as a cute little toy to help cement the branding for Peppinos shop but he never got the time or money for it, so peshino is collecting a bit of dust in his basement. Postgame, he takes peshino out and cleans him up; he feels a bit guilty about him….and the Big Peshino found in the tower plays music in Peppinos shop :) He also takes the time to clean him up and keep him functional.

Okay i think thats all i got for now byebye

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Grist:

In the depths of the Great Depression in 1933, President Franklin D. Roosevelt warned Congress that millions of Americans were idly “walking the streets,” presenting a threat to the country’s stability, even though they “would infinitely prefer to work.” It’s part of the reason he proposed the Civilian Conservation Corps, a program that would hire men to preserve forests, prevent soil erosion, and control floods. “More important, however, than the material gains will be the moral and spiritual value of such work,” Roosevelt said.

President Joe Biden referenced that line last month when he announced the launch of the American Climate Corps, a government jobs program inspired by Roosevelt’s that tackles the environmental problems of the 21st century. Besides the obvious benefits of restoring wetlands and installing solar panels, the climate corps is intended to pave a path to green careers for those who sign up. Another advantage of joining, though less-discussed, is that it could help alleviate widespread climate anxiety, channeling young people’s concern into concrete, hands-on work. More than half of Americans are anxious, to some degree, about how climate change is affecting their mental health. There are only about 250 job openings in the climate corps right now, but the White House expects to employ 20,000 people over the program’s first year.

While the vast majority of 18- to 28-year-olds in the United States say they’re worried about climate change, two-thirds of them are unsure what they can do to make a difference, according to polling from the think tank Data for Progress in 2022. The combination is ripe for “climate anxiety,” a catch-all term for the feelings of grief, fear, and distress that’s not so much a clinical diagnosis as a logical response to living through the hottest period on Earth in 125,000 years. 

According to common wisdom, the best way to treat existential dread about global warming is to “take action.” But not all types of climate action are equal. Proponents of the American Climate Corps suggest that the program offers something more substantial than ditching meat or taking a bike ride — it’s a chance to work on climate change or environmental justice issues all day as part of a larger cause. “There’s something about, ‘Here is a clear job with a clear timeline and a clear local goal. I can, like, put my hands in the dirt,’” said Kidus Girma, campaign director of the Sunrise Movement, a youth-led climate organization that fought to make the climate corps happen. 

In small doses, anxiety can prompt people to do something, but in large doses, it can be incapacitating. The structure of the American Climate Corps could be useful for young people who are overwhelmed by the enormity of a global problem and aren’t sure where to start, said McKenna Parnes, a clinical psychology researcher at the University of Washington. 

Taking action as part of a group, as opposed to going it alone, can significantly alleviate the distress associated with climate change, according to a study Parnes co-authored in 2022. Climate corps members wouldn’t necessarily need to be working with people all day to get those benefits. “Even if it’s folks that are doing individual jobs but part of the greater collective, just by nature of being part of the climate corps, there’s already that collective piece,” she said.

[gumjrop]

The Weather

All areas of the country are now at High or Very High levels of COVID Transmission.

According to the new CDC National Wastewater Surveillance System (NWSS) dashboard, all regions are experiencing increased COVID wastewater levels, with the Midwest being the highest. Nationally, wastewater levels are “very high.” Driven by the JN.1 variant, we are currently seeing the second highest wastewater levels since BA.1, the first Omicron wave in January 2022.

We continue to stress the importance of mitigating the spread of COVID, especially during this time of increasing transmission. Please continue to wear a high quality respirator mask (such as an N95) in indoor settings of any capacity, and postpone crowded events. In addition, make sure to take appropriate precautions when meeting with others.

Wins

Amidst this new surge, many hospitals – some responding to staffing shortages, and some responding to public pressure – have reinstated mask mandates. We celebrate the work of organizers across the country including those at Care Not COVID Chicagoland, COVID Safe Maryland, COVID Advocacy NY, and MaskBlocs around the country who organized a call-in to hospitals last week to demand they reinstate – and make permanent – masking policies.  A coalition protest by Sacramento Jewish Voices for Peace, Sunrise Movement Sacramento, International Jewish Anti-Zionist network, Bay Area JVP, & Youth 4 Palestine Sac organized a fully masked (N95!) and tested (2 days in a row!) pro-Palestine protest at the CA State Capitol in Sacramento last week.  ACTUP’s New York chapter has voted to require and provide KN95 masks at all upcoming meetings and actions “due to the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic and recent surge, as well as to increase safety from surveillance at protests.”  Solidarity means we protect each other, and these organizers are showing us the way!

Variants

JN.1, a BA.2.86 descendent, is rising to prominence quickly in the United States. Nowcast estimates predict that by 1/6/2024, JN.1 will account for 61.6% of circulating variants. According to preliminary non-peer reviewed data, the newest (XBB.1.5) booster helps to protect against the JN.1 variant. Conversely, older vaccines did not offer significant protection against JN.1.  It is important to receive the updated booster, especially since uptake is currently low–according to a poll conducted by Gallup, only 29% of 6,000 participants surveyed received the updated vaccine as of December 7, 2023. This is in stark contrast to flu vaccine rates, polled at 49%. This is likely due to an imbalance in public health messaging–while efforts were poured into advertising the flu vaccine, not as much emphasis was placed on receiving the updated booster.

Hospitalizations

Weekly COVID hospitalizations continue to trend upward, now at 34,798 for the week ending December 30, 2023. The numbers for currently hospitalized patients with COVID are also increasing, currently at 25,430. In terms of regional trends, the Northeast and Midwest are seeing higher rates of hospitalization. When reviewing these numbers we must also remember that patients who are already admitted for other reasons and are suffering from nosocomial, or hospital-acquired infections, are not accounted for in this data.

Hospitals are overwhelmed. Healthcare workers are demanding support from administrators. Read this account of ER nurses at Montefiore Hospital in the Bronx who say that the hospital executives are refusing to open up vacant areas of the hospital to accommodate the surge in patients – leaving the ER dangerously overcrowded and forcing patients into hallway beds.

Long COVID

A new cross-sectional study published in Nature Communications found that Long COVID patients with post-exertional malaise (PEM) exhibit skeletal muscle changes that are exacerbated by exercise. PEM patients are also found to have unique pathophysiological changes, such as amyloid-containing deposits in muscle tissue. These findings contribute to mounting evidence that COVID infection can significantly damage the body, and more research is necessary in order to fully understand manifestations of Long COVID. If readers are curious, summarized findings can be found in this X (Twitter) thread, penned by one of the authors. Long COVID research is important. This is why it is essential that all Long COVID research centers adhere to the strictest infection prevention protocols. Read this account of a person disabled by Long COVID who dropped out of a study because the study personnel refused to mask. We saw this same phenomenon last spring at Stanford during a study of Paxlovid’s impact on Long COVID rates.

Take Action

This week Jewish Currents put out a report on The Epidemiological War on Gaza, which amplified WHO’s January 2nd announcement that “there are currently 424,639 [reported] cases of infectious disease in Gaza,” an area with only 2 million residents total. With the ongoing destruction of hospitals and deprivation of food and water and environmental pollution from continued bombardment, the occupying forces have ensured the conditions for continued deaths even in times of ceasefire. Call your representatives and join a protest this week to demand a ceasefire and the reconstruction of Palestinian medical infrastructure towards fair health access for all peoples! Let us support Massachusetts General Brigham Long COVID patients by telling the hospital to 1) meet all patient accessibility requests including wearing N95 respirators upon request and 2) make universal masking their new standard of care. They can be contacted through their contact form, or by calling 1-800-856-1983. Rashida Tlaib sent out an email blast informing constituents of the current surge. The message included acknowledgment of COVID’s airborne nature, recommendation to wear a well-fitting mask, a link to access free tests through USPS, and information on updated vaccines and COVID transmission. Let’s contact Congresswoman Tlaib and thank her for this invaluable action! 

Future Weather Reports

Starting next week, we will begin to publish the Weather Report on a bi-weekly basis. This will allow our team to focus on crafting action campaigns to push for a comprehensive public health approach to the pandemic, including mask mandates, paid sick leave policies, testing access, Long COVID research, next generation vaccines, indoor air quality regulations, and more. We hope to see you in our expanded actions to end the COVID pandemic soon to come!

[sovietpostcards]

what kinds of things did the young pioneers/komsomol do and what was it generally like for the kids participating? were these just something everyone did because it was expected/required, or did kids genuinely enjoy it?

It was an all-encomassing organization, mandatory for joining. It was a laid path. You didn't have to specially apply or anything - if you were in school (which were also mandatory), you were an octobrist and later pioneer. If you were expelled from pioneers, it was a huge deal and your parents would be humiliated and side-eyed by other parents.

Generally its main goal was to raise a "good Soviet citizen" - an honest, hard-working, helping person, and of course a bearer of the Soviet agenda. The octobrist/pioneer idea was tightly knit to the whole school system, so it was mostly one. Joining Komsomol and later the Communist Party would open doors for you in education and work.

Did children enjoy it? I'm sure many did. There were many rituals which are always fun - like when new children were named pioneers it was a whole event out of city, on sunrise. Pioneer camps were fun in the summer with the games and singing together at campfires.

As many Soviet ideas, these were for making people "as one", "all and the same". And they were good for people who were comfortable in being like one with others. Children take things as they are and just enjoy their childhood and youth, whatever form it may take.

[corellianhounds]

Bar Talk

Media: Star Wars (Original Trilogy)

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 2,742

Warnings: None

Art Credit: Johannes Holm on ArtStation

Summary: Set sometime after the Battle of Endor, Luke and Lando talk shop and discuss the difficulties it takes to rebuild after the war.

Base XIV had few amenities but the makeshift cantina was a popular one. It was just out of the way enough to have the illusion of a hole-in-the-wall dive, and it provided several much-needed distractions after days spent training, conducting briefings and debriefings, managing inventory, and performing routine maintenance. The uprisings against Imperial outposts and institutions across the galaxy demanded the remaining rebels’ support and there was little time to celebrate before yet another sector needed their help.

Too often many of the leaders forgot the second half of the sentiment “Work hard, play hard,” though, so the cantina had to work a foot in the door before it became a semi-permanent fixture by virtue of the fact volunteers kept it up and running in what valuable free time they had to spare. By the time the fussier lieutenants’ complaints made it up the chain of command, the infantry folks had reallocated improvised construction materials for the outer shell, and by the time it got to the commander’s desk, Leia was seen leaving with Wes Janson and Lieutenant Verlaine, so deconstruction was deemed a moot point and the lieutenants’ complaints were dismissed.

Lando had made time to meet up with Luke on a rare night off to catch up and chew the fat. Consuls had no end of paperwork and planning to attend to between missions, but they’d each somehow found themselves in a lull where most projects were waiting on the decisions of others, so the cantina now hosted the two war generals in a corner of the bar, overlooked in the hustle and bustle of a busy night and granted the rare-found indulgence of anonymity.

Lando was having a Takadian Sunrise, a flavorful and aromatic cocktail made with tihaar. The salt-and-pepper captain from Mon Cala, Toren Qavis, brewed the tihaar himself as a hobby on the side, and since it appeared his background in chemistry translated well to distillation, he occasionally supplied Jhon the bartender with it. Due to the limited nature of housing and storage space, Lando had had to ignore his more naturally inquisitive nature regarding how Qavis was able to create such a steady flow of tihaar. There were rumored suspicions cast on the ugly little C2-R4 droid that trundled about doing odd jobs near Qavis’s rooms: the man was a notorious pack rat and the droid— advertised by its Skor II creators as having limitless functions— was always picking up organic and inorganic material equally. The less Lando thought about the C2-R4, the better he was able to enjoy the home-brewed spirits. Ignorance was indeed bliss.

Captain Qavis’s tihaar never tasted exactly the same. Each batch was brewed in small quantities which meant those who enjoyed quality control had to gamble on whether they’d be getting a flavor profile they liked, and those more adventurous were never for want of a new experience. The monotony and tedium of what it took to build bureaucratic infrastructure could wear people down just as quickly as the constant fighting did, so Lando didn’t mind a bit of mundane unpredictability amongst his new delegations, and he enjoyed visiting with his friend over a hand of pazaak and good humor. Those days were coming fewer and farther in between, though.

Luke was barely into his twenties but the enormity of his responsibilities and the expectations placed on him were starting to show on his youthful face. As he sat next to Lando at the bar, Lando could see the far away contemplative thoughts sitting behind his eyes— Luke had been carving a divot into the wooden bar top with his thumbnail as he and Lando breezed through the daily trough patter they both knew by rote.

Baron Calrissian was more accustomed to bureaucracy than the farm boy was. Despite his efforts spent scouring databases and archives for information and history on the Jedi, Luke’s time was demanded of in a number of areas as they established the New Republic, and the divided focus was frustrating him. Point the boy in one direction and give him a clear objective and he’d accomplish it with aplomb. Split his focus and tell him to figure out how to manage both his time and his people in a number of unfamiliar settings and you get a fledgling Jedi and consul member forgetting important meetings and snapping at dignitaries they needed support of. He and Han were similar in those respects, and between their own harried schedules Lando and Leia had had to make time to smooth over diplomatic relations Luke had inadvertently ruffled the feathers of.

When it came down to it, Luke was a hands-on guy more accustomed to solving physical problems than he was performing administration. Gifted pilot? Yes. Ingenious mechanic? Yes. Unparalleled martial artist and strategist? Of course.

Diplomat? Not so much.

“Plan on digging a trench all the way across?” Lando asked. “A router would take you less time.”

Luke shook his head, resting his knuckles on the bar top. He was three black ales in and didn’t seem fazed by them at all. Lando wondered if there was much else to do on a backwoods planet like the one Luke had come from besides shoot vermin, drift speeders, and knock back ‘shine with the old-timers when you weren’t doing manual labor. Lando had met several hicks whose hold on liquor rivaled Coruscanti ironworkers— Union men were a sturdy breed, and still they’d stagger from going shot-for-shot against a scrawny hayseed with a competitive streak. Luke wasn’t a big man and still he’d shown no signs of flagging under the stout black ale that must have made up a quantifiable percentage of his body weight by now.

“Sorry, Lando, my focus is shot today. Meditation only gets me so far on the weeks we’re moving bases.”

“I don’t blame you. I’m surprised it's in your schedule at all; haven’t you been taking ten-twelves?”

“Something like that,” Luke said wryly. “I get it in during airtime.”

“Seems to me like that’s still work.”

“Eh, flying’s methodical,” Luke shrugged. “That’s the work I like.”

“What’s the old man have to say about your multitasking?”

“Haven’t asked him.”

The two of them chuckled. Lando slid the untouched tray of Zuǒ chicken over next to Luke’s forearm.

“Those bags under your eyes may match your wardrobe, but they aren’t a good look on you,” Lando observed. “Tell Leia you need to take a retreat, go to Dagobah for a bit and get your head straight. You’ll feel better after.”

Luke shook his head. “No need. I’ve got some downtime during the refinery recon and the meetings later this week.”

“Recon isn’t downtime. What’s eating at you, kid?”

Luke studied the wood some more while the fried food settled to room temp beside him. The general din of the cantina stayed at a low hum, sentients squeezing past each other but somehow still skirting the alcove they’d commandeered.

“… You ever been expected to give a speech on something you’re told you’re supposed to be an expert in but you’ve only heard of by word-of-mouth? Like somebody’s asked you to play a song nobody knows or has recordings of?

Lando frowned. “Is this about the Jedi business?”

Luke continued like Lando hadn’t spoken. “I can’t find any original codices for the Order. The representatives from other systems in the charter keep asking questions I can’t explain. “Why does the Force protect some people but not others? If the Force connects every living thing, how can so much evil go undetected for so long? The Empire wouldn’t have had the reach it did if the emperor had been stopped long before he took over. Are the Jedi really meant to live cut off from everyone else, or is that why they failed on Coruscant in the first place?”

“… Heavy stuff.”

“You’re telling me,” Luke said. “I’m just one guy and I’m expected to have all the answers.”

“Kenobi not been much help?” Lando asked curiously.

Luke shrugged and dragged a hand down his face with a sigh. “He’s irritated with me for arguing the logistics every time we talk. I think there’s a point to people’s questions but he’s still teaching from the old rule book.” Here he turned to Lando. “I know he’s only teaching me what he knows, but if the Jedi believed in accepting change, why can’t he see that the way we study and live by the Force now has to change? How can you reconcile a life of non-attachment with the very thing that binds us together?”

“A rope and a net will both keep you from falling but one’s going to do it better than the other.”

Luke couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “See? You get it. Maybe you should be the Jedi.”

“Pass.”

“Smart choice.”

Lando tapped his fingers on the bar in thought. As far as he was aware the rebuilding of the physical Order wasn’t expected to be underway so soon anyway. Luke was one of the most wanted men across the galaxies; they were all keeping low profiles for a reason. The sheer enormity and reach of the Empire’s stranglehold meant there were still millions of Imperials and Imperial sympathizers stationed across every sector. There was no shortage of people who wanted him dead. If he revealed too much or didn’t remain off the grid, diligently toiling away at finding resources and forming covert connections, he could put so much they had worked for— to say nothing of millions of lives depending on them— in jeopardy. To not even have council members believe the Jedi were necessary or worthy of rebuilding in the first place meant Luke was fighting against the tide every time he didn’t gain a delegate’s trust, let alone support.

But to hear Luke struggle with how he viewed the original tenets of the code reminded Lando of just how new all this was to him, too.

“What is it Kenobi and Yoda do all day if they’re not giving you immediate resources?”

Luke drained the rest of his glass and tapped the bar twice for Jhon to refill it. “I won’t say they haven’t been helpful, but they ask more questions than they answer mine.”

“To what end?”

Luke put his hands up in a gesture of “Your guess is as good as mine,” baffled and frustrated. “To stretch my critical thinking skills, I guess— But I don’t have time for that. I need actionable directions. Contemplation and self-reflection are selfish right now when what people need is immediate help. How can I find others if they won’t give me the tools?”

Lando mulled it over. He could see where Luke was coming from and sensed he had a point. Han had told him a fortnight back that he’d found Luke working out his frustrations in bay 4-9 stripping down an X-wing from canopy to keel, muttering something about philosophy and accountability. By the time he emerged he was sweaty and covered in grease, but no closer to whatever conclusion he’d been using the ship’s maintenance as a stand-in for because his stormy expression remained in place and he immediately started in on another ship.

Grains of sand could beget pearls over time, but if you flooded a shell with sand without jetting out the buildup all you’d get was a dead mollusk.

So Lando changed the subject.

“How do vaporators work?”

Luke snorted and gave him a sidelong look that implied Lando was asking a stupid question (which, in all fairness, was part of the point). He held up his glass, water running in rivulets down the sides.

“Same way this does,” he said. “Why? Plan to invest in stocks before the dry season?”

“Naw, nothing like that.” Lando didn’t take offense to Luke’s sarcasm. “I was born on Socorro but my family lived so far removed from farm life I didn’t know how most essentials got from farm to table. I didn’t stay there long enough to learn anyway. Didn’t interest me.”

“And now suddenly it does?”

“The base camp up in the mountains put in a request for on-site equipment to help sustain them so they don’t have to rely solely on supply lines,” Lando explained. It was a true enough statement, though Luke needn’t know that the issue hadn’t necessarily crossed Lando’s desk. “There’s budget and time constraints they don’t have time to quibble over, and the railways are in poor condition because of the rockslides.”

Luke’s barstool swiveled a little more loosely to his left as he tapped his gloved, mechanical hand on the bar. “Vaporator cores run refrigerant through the main shafts to keep them chilled; they collect condensation and funnel it down to a tank beneath the ground,” he said, picking up a bit of chicken and chewing around his words. “Tatooine gets up to forty-two degrees on average and the mists rise at suns-up— Most of the water is collected in that window of time, and the rest of the day your work is spent on repairs and withdrawal rotations. The base camp is already up on the leeward side of the mountains though— Fog nets would be more efficient and easier to maintain. Higher elevation, less even terrain, and the fog’s already there. It would cost more money and effort to bore out the rock to install vaporators than they’d be worth in the long run.”

Lando stroked his chin thoughtfully. “What would the number of man-hours for maintenance be, assuming they have the space to dedicate to them?”

“For the whole compound? Maybe thirty hours across a standard week. The nets take up less space and there’s nothing mechanical or electrical to maintain. You could get the bigger cisterns and spend half the time across two shifts doing all the work at once, but the more often they’re maintained the less likely they are to build up mold. It’s not worth putting it off if it means running the risk of the whole supply making everybody sick.”

“What about groundwater?”

“Larger cost upfront to install the equipment, more work to purify it,” Luke said, shaking his head. Lando waved the barkeep down for another basket of Zuǒ as he talked, making a point to take some himself so Luke could continue uninterrupted. He had a bit more color to his skin than before, and the haze of stress and alcohol was a little clearer with a problem in front of him he had enough experience to solve in his sleep.

“Everyone can be cross-trained on nets, that way you can sub people in when needed. A specialized crew may sound more appealing but if they’re all waylaid or too many people are taken out you won’t have anyone to harvest a supply at all. You’ll need a foreman to track down screw-ups if you rotate schedules, though. Or you can give that job to a droid.”

“Any downsides to having droids do all of it?” Lando asked.

“… Droids just can’t get the taste right,” Luke said. “They’re good at filtering and testing for problems, and the water would technically be fine, but at the end of the day you need someone who’s going to care about more than just utility.”

The conversation reached a natural lull, and Lando didn’t feel the need to add anything else. He had what he needed.

Luke scrubbed at his face, sitting back in the stool and contemplating the condensation building up on the glass. “Seems all I’m good for some days is everything except restoring a creed. At least there’ll always be farming.”

Lando thought back to Qavis and the C2-R4, the cantina bartender and the makeshift pub carved into a quarry. He stood from his chair and dropped some credits on the bar before he put a hand on Luke’s shoulder and hoped it conveyed the reassurance he didn’t know how else to give.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Luke. There’s a lot you’ve got to contend with on your own, but you’ve got us to help with everything else.”

“… Ben thinks I can rebuild an entire order single-handedly,” Luke muttered sardonically. “But it feels like all I’ve gotten from him are criticisms and pushback.”

Lando shrugged. “If Kenobi didn’t want you in charge, he shouldn’t have left.”

Luke finally cracked a grin, the first Lando had seen in a long time.

“Besides,” Lando reasoned, “Seems to me like you’re already used to making something out of nothing.”

—

Notes:

Tihaar is a strong, clear spirit distilled from fruit. The inspiration for this specific home brew is taken from San Miguel beer in the Philippines circa 1980. Brewed in small batches, no two beers ever tasted the same. An older friend of mine said that during his stint overseas he was never happier than when he had a San Miguel beer in one hand and roasted monkey on a stick in the other.

Here is a link to a post I made about the C2-RV droids.

What Lando says to Luke about Kenobi is something my dad once said at a funeral. He was talking to his aunt (my great-aunt) at the last of her brother’s funerals, and she said in her normal matter-of-fact tone “Welp, I’m the last one. Guess I can raise all sorts of hell now.” To which my dad said “Well if they didn’t want you in charge, they shouldn’t have left!”

[doonthestair]

How is somewhere so strict about about rules so lawless at the same time? Welcome, my friends, to my sleep-deprived pit of Catalan hell, where I shall lay shaking and twitching and rambling endlessly until the time comes to sacrifice myself to man’s great sky chariot, whereupon I shall be whisked away to soar over the mighty winter Atlantic and by Jove’s good graces, reach the other side. We find ourselves now approaching the seven hour mark of living in the Barcelona airport for the day, seeing as my witchly curses of both body and soul prevent me the stability required to venture outwards without a mild fit of panic and hysteria, so it is that I shall remain here for the following 12 hours. The sun has not yet risen. I need a drink.

Eureka! I have found a cherished establishment familiar to me from my days in London. My heart as in my very spirit yearns for a chai latte, but my heart as in physical organ screams and cries at the idea of caffeine consumption without an adequate amount of food to pair with it. Praise me for slowly learning from…past endeavors. Some may call them mistakes, though I prefer to call that incident “The Consequences of a Biology Exam the Next Morning.” How I do not wish to experience the spiders again. In any case, I shall acquire a blueberry muffin and the fruit of my homeland. They have a dirty chai latte. I hope they mean it. I need a chai latte so dirty, so filthy, filthier than the words I seduce your mother with as your pitiful patriarch watches. And they both like it. I pray my sins be absolved so that I may continue committing them. Oh, the lulls of sleep are but an arm’s length away but I have strained my shoulder so terribly from carrying my duffel bag that I can barely reach out. Siren temptations dreams are anyway, as I must stay in full consciousness from here on out. You can try to kill me if you want me to rest, I suppose. I’d like to see you try. Go on, puppet. Dance. Put on a show in the public arena that is an airport. Nothing matters here except for the things that very, very much do. The caffeine and adrenaline that run through my veins have pushed me past mortality. The last time I slept was in the Czech Republic. I’m sure that isn’t apparent in the slightest.

My mouth is filled with blueberry muffin and my ears are filled with Eurhythmics’ “Sweet Dreams.” It is positively banging. A “slapper,” the youth may proclaim, though I admit my knowledge of the current dialect is rusty at its best. I eagerly await for the sweet embrace of sunrise and from there, only another five hours until my flight even shows on the board. My activities within the airport promptly shall include all good things that start with W: wanting, wandering, wallowing, withering, wasting away. 

[the-lorax-mustache]

For people in the US, if you are looking to get involved politically one way that you can easily fit to your own schedule is to do voter phone/text banking and post carding. Here are some organizations that I have done these with in the past.

[rosengris]

A Louis character study rec

Slowly working my way through the fics I've enjoyed. I'll always have a soft spot for canon-verse, as the historical setting plus vampirism is where my heart lies.

5 sunrises and sunsets Louis saw, from childhood to meeting Lestat. I particularly adored the historical details sprinkled in for the time period and Louis' background: an upper-middle class, deeply religious family living in the south. The conversations felt true to how the du Lacs' spoke among themselves. That glimpse of Jonah/Louis broke my heart; Jonah's youthful innocence and bravery contrasting with Louis' self-denial. Plus the initial push and pull between Louis and Lestat. 'The cosmos didn’t sit blindfolded; it was Louis’ eyes that were covered. Maybe in another time, he decides, could this man be his answer, his compensation for a life of repression.' Bravo!

[talesofsonicasura]

A King's Musings

A warrior king thinks about his peculiar guests and the face of the person who brought them.

Part of the Past/Present/Future Trio! Best to check that out first, especially the comments and reblogs, or else you'll just be super confused.

Damas would admit that Jak will never fail to surprise and worry him. The young man alongside his smaller companion had been gone for two weeks ever since they snuck into the Monk's Temple. It wasn't no lie that a good chunk of his Spargus citizens than just their king were a bit worried.

Jak and Daxter peculiar dynamic helped ease the tension from the serious matters outside the walls. It's hard to not be amused by youths getting into ridiculous but mostly harmless antics. Something that felt needed when the problems at hand aren't the usually ones for his people. These were much larger and dangerous matters that even his unaware citizens can sense.

Then not even an hour into the night did the Spargan King received a message from his most trusted friend, Sig. Jak and Daxter had been found but they weren't alone. Two other boys were with them, one who had a lethal allergic reaction to sunlight. It was enough extra motivation for Damas to come over alongside an escort and get the four youths back to Spargus before sunrise.

The King was about to arrange separate rooms for the other two boys but they all insisted on staying with the "Demolition Duo". It wasn't hard to notice the kindredship between them. One of sworn brothers ready to burn the world to ashes for each other.

"I figured I would find you wandering the halls again." Damas turned away from his thoughts to look at an approaching Sig. Although he couldn't help but raise a brow at the bits of feathers stuck haphazardly on the man's armor. "Old habits die hard my friend. Let me guess, a pillow fight?"

The man playfully rolled his only organic eye at his king's query. "Blue Cherry has one hell of a swing. Knocked the air outta me real good than just make a pillow explode. I can only imagine taking a hit from him as a full grown adult." James Lake Jr or "Jim" being the young man's preference.

A half human/half 'troll' who shared a very similar situation to Jak. Sadly he couldn't change back to what he once was from how it been phrased. The boy could easily be mistaken for being part Lurker if he didn't have that smooth stone hide and horns. Maybe a subspecies?

Jim was sixteen but dwarfed Damas by a foot if you weren't counting the horns. It isn't hard to see what his sworn brother meant as the boy still had some growing to do. They were lucky Kleiver hadn't thrown out his old PJs when he was a teenager. Between the four, Jim is more outspoken and approachable.

"An agreed sentiment as the young man has no doubt seen his fair share of the battlefield if he shares Jak's predicament. Though I bet it was Link who started their little fight." Damas' smile could barely conceal the heartache that stung his soul.

The world of a warrior wasn't a kind one. Every man and woman will face their own unspeakable horrors as war is bound to find them at some point. The eyes that a 10 year child should never be cursed to have. Link was painfully close in personality to his lost son, Mar.

An innocent youth with a knack for getting into mischief and prefers to use sign language than his voice. Sadly Link's innocence had also been robbed in the same way his fellow brothers lost theirs. By men like the Green Eco Sage who believes children should hold the weight of the world on their shoulders.

"Little Cherry is as clever as his aim. He already knew the right trajectory and timing to throw so he could hit my face before I even opened the door. Jak got himself some competition when the boy's old enough to pick up a gun."

Damas snorted at the image of his friend being met with a pillow to the face. There were already some rumors about Link being the King's secret love child amongst his guards. "I'm glad to know they're making themselves comfortable already. Hopefully the boys don't decide to throw another pillow fight in their new room."

"So when you are going to start working on those adoption papers? Just know that you have to do shared custody for Jim cause his mother might beat you with a broom if otherwise." Sig chuckles at the pointed look from Damas.

He knew his sworn brother's fatherly instincts when it came to lost children like the four boys. Damas is family man at heart and he always wanted to give Mar siblings. When his son disappeared, it wasn't hard to notice the sorrow in the man's eyes.

It hurt to find Damas sitting on Mar's bed with his son's favorite Crocadog plush in hand. No updates on the lost boy for over a year just made it worse. There been a few leads but they were muddle before absolute silence once Kor was dead. Although some reports were linked to two particular boys who slowly been healing Damas' heartache.

There was something about the Demolition Duo, especially Jak, that resonated with the King of Spargus. A very familiar bond that neither parties could identify but can definitely feel. Kinda like... Both men hadn't noticed they had stop in front of Jak's room. Unlike 20 minutes ago, it was quite silent.

Damas and Sig looked at each before the latter silently open the door. The room had been overtaken by feathers that once made their home in the pile of torn pillow cases at the farthest corner. Jak and Link's items were closer to the bed especially the youngest peculiar "Fierce Deity" mask which sat on an intact pillow.

It wasn't difficult to find the room's occupants. All four boys were all fast asleep, huddled together in a slightly awkward cuddle pile. Jim was behind everyone as his head rested on Jak's chest alongside Link and arms held the two smaller blondes. The youngest boy nestled himself against the oldest with a firm grip almost if to make sure he won't disappear.

Jak was in the center of the two whilst Daxter laid behind his head, curled up like a feline. A very rare sight to behold as the duo still had issues when it came to sleeping. Haven City hadn't been so kind to their health from the constant mission reports Sig gotten ahold of during his stay.

The heartwarming scene felt very familiar to Damas, too familiar. Soft peaceful expression on Jak's face as his body was held in the safety of his brothers. Just like...

Realization hit Damas harder than a gun handle to the teeth. "Sig, get me every report involving Jak's stay in Haven. I'll be in my private studies as there's something I need to check. The answers we been seeking about Mar's disappearance is much closer than we thought."

Sig quietly headed off while the king look back at the sleeping youth, specifically Jak. The image of a little greenish blonde child surrounded by blankets as he held a plush crocadog to his chest paint the king's mind. "Please let me be right."

The door closed without a sound as darkness gently blanket the room once more.

And that's it. I'm a sucker for Dadmas just like Fierce Dadity so I couldn't resist. Figured I give Jim a break from the madness he's been subjected to on my main blog. Still on a Trollhunters kick so it'll taking longer to get other stuff done.

Life has also been insane as curveballs keep coming. I'm currently working on the next chapter for Of Bug Cults and Living Stone while proofreading my older works. Until next time folks, I'll see you back at the crossroads between Spargus, Arcadia and Hyrule!

@radioactivepeasant @hermitdrabbles56

[solarpunkpresentspodcast]

In this episode of Solarpunk Presents, nonfiction co-editor Ariel Kroon sits down for a virtual chat with Gabrielle Gelderman, an Edmonton, Alberta-based climate grief chaplain and climate justice organizer. They talk about what climate grief chaplaincy even is, the necessity of holding communal safe spaces for grieving especially for organizers, the necessity of feeling grief in order to feel more positive emotions, and climate despair as a corollary of solarpunk hope.

Links:

Gabrielle's Instagram: @theclimatechaplain

Gabrielle’s LinkTree: https://linktr.ee/gabthechaplain

Climate Justice Edmonton (CA)

Faith Matters Network (US)

Sunrise Youth Organization (US)

*Note: During the interview, Ariel mentions episode 4.30 of Secret Feminist Agenda; the name of the theorist she cites is Eugenia Zuroski.

Connect with Solarpunk Magazine at solarpunkmagazine.com and on Twitter @solarpunklitmag

Connect with Solarpunk Presents Podcast on Twitter @SolarpunkP, Mastodon @solarpunkpresents@climatejustice.rocks, or at our blog https://solarpunkpresents.com/

Connect with Ariel at her blog, on Twitter at @arielletje, and on Mastodon @arielkroon@wandering.shop

Connect with Christina at her blog, on Twitter @xtinadlr, and on Mastodon @xtinadlr@wandering.shop

[trevlad-sounds]

Wednesday 1 November Mixtape 392 “Mettalic Nebula EXCLUSIVE” Electronic experimental Uptempo Retro Wednesdays & Sundays. Support the artists and labels. Don't forget to subscribe or tip so future shows can bloom.

Trevlad Sounds-Welcome in you wonderful listener 00:00

Pete Bassman-Mettalic Decade 00:31

John Louis Kluck-The Autobots 05:50

Midwich Youth Club-Summertime Saturday Special 10:23

Binaural Space-Coplay 13:03

Wojciech Golczewski-Glow Part One 14:05

Roméo Poirier-Les encombres 16:45

Hiro Ama-Dolphin Hour 20:00

Heron & Crane-Space Junk 29:07

Colloboh-Acid Sunrise 32:38

Cahn Ingold Prelog-WC 28: Dispersion of Light 37:48

Steve Cobby-Bernal Spheres 38:56

Lori Scacco-Strange Cities 43:06

Dark fidelity HiFi-to be with you now [ demo version ] 47:21

Kiritchenko-Acceptance 51:13

Suncastle-Leucrotta 54:53

Sj Ferguson-Hopeh 57:43

Cio D'Or-And On 58:39

Dividenthal & Aumgn-Organic Syntheses 1:03:09

Secret Circuit-Polygono 1:09:05

Milieu-Pink Leaves 1:14:50

Timeskater-Ladder 1:26:10

Bitstream-Crab Nebula 1:30:50

Strategy-Surface Worlds 1:35:35

Hawksmoor-Praxis 1:40:00

Pabellón Sintético-Equinoxe 5 1:44:32

Slow Haste-Maria 1:48:43

[board-local]

A Conversation on the Chairlift:

Last year, I was chatting with one of my good friends on the chairlift at who asked me, “if you could do anything you wanted for a job, what would it be?” After thinking about it, I told him I’d love to go snowboarding at a bunch of different resorts and showcase them to the snowboarding community. Then I thought to myself, what am I waiting for? I don’t have to be doing it as my full-time job to start doing it as a hobby. Ever since 2nd grade when I received my first snowboard, I’ve been hooked. It's always been a passion of mine, and I want to share this snowboarding journey with anyone and everyone who wants to tune in.

My goal with this project is to snowboard every resort in Utah, Idaho, Wyoming, and Montana. I also have resorts in other states I’d like to sprinkle in occasionally, but the Mountain West is my main focus. This will definitely be a multi-year project, but I’m excited to get started! I hope to show the snowboarding community that there are tons of fun alternatives to shelling out $250 for a day pass at Park City (but hey, if that’s what you’re after, it’s an amazing resort).

I plan to create a short video and an accompanying blog for each resort I visit. The blog will focus on my favorite runs, details of the mountain, and provide some personal recommendations of things I would want to know about each resort if I were a reader. The video will provide an insider look at the resort, facilities, and various types of terrain and give the viewer an idea of how the mountain rides. Although the video will almost exclusively be self-filmed by me, my goal is to showcase the mountain, not myself.

I intend these resources to be kind of like a cheat-sheet for people to know what resorts they should give a shot, plus what to do once they get there. I also want to focus on the ROI (Return on Investment). In other words - how much you get out of the resort compared to the amount you spend on a lift ticket. I want to highlight the best deals in the Mountain West.

Who am I? Are you sure you want to know? My story is not for the faint of heart… 🕷️ My name is Matt Holyoak. I’m a husband and father in my late 20s. My career has primarily been focused on supply chain management, government affairs, economic development, and non-profit work. I currently help run the Corporate Affairs department for a privately-owned consumer goods company. My wife and I also founded a non-profit called ‘Sunrise After Suicide’ where we help families in the aftermath of a suicide. I’ve got too many hobbies to list, but paramount to them all is my love for being outdoors where I love nothing more than snowboarding.

I’ve been snowboarding for over two decades now, and it’s been a passion of mine throughout my whole life. Some of the best moments of my young life were on the mountain with my childhood friends. In high school, we successfully petitioned our school administrators to bring back the ski club after it was cut. We helped plan and organize multiple snowboard trips with some amazing adult volunteers. I worked my way through college as a snowboard instructor at a small resort where I taught hundreds of people the basics of snowboarding. I was also the student T.A. for my college ski club which is where I started dating my wife. I’m going on 3 years of being a mentor for the Chill Foundation which is an amazing youth development program Burton put together in the form of a non-profit foundation. In my teenage years and early 20s my friends and I enjoyed competing in local snowboard competitions. Although I’m a little more of a snowboard nut than most people, I’m mostly just a guy who loves to snowboard and wants to find the best places to go!

I felt like it was necessary for my readers to understand who I am as a person, but that’s more than enough about me! The last thing I’d like to say in this introductory article is that I’d love to hear from my readers! If you have a strong opinion about a resort, please share it with me.

[sparrowsarus]

In which we post the first part of The Blue Knight, while we debate on whether it should be chaptered.

Xenk stood patiently in front of the Lady Protector of Neverwinter, one eyebrow raised.

"Look, I know it's a bit out of your wheelhouse, but Gareth is sick as a dog and can't go. And if anyone could survive being beheaded by an inhuman creature with the audacity to storm into my castle on Highharvesttide and start making demands, it's you."

Xenk's eyebrow arched further. "I was given to understand that the apparition merely suggested a blow, with the same blow returned a year and a day after. It was the youth's choice to attempt to kill a stranger who had harmed no one."

Lady Neverwinter's ears went red. "Well, yes. It isn't behaviour one wishes to see from one's progeny, and we are dealing with it.

But I beg you--please, Sir Yendar. My husband is beside himself, and I'm quite disturbed myself. My baby boy—I know you think us foolish, for protecting him from the consequences of his actions. And perhaps you are right. But he is very sick."

He was—Xenk had seen it. So too had he seen proof that the youth—pale and wan in his bed, but still mannerly—had been shocked that he had been willing to murder a creature without provocation, and was trying to do better. Besides—Xenk had made inquiries, and senseless violence had never seemed to have been the lad’s way; the servants had all seemed shocked by his behaviour, quite out of character—and Xenk wondered if there was not a plot brewing, that he would have to uncover.

"Very well, I will do it."

Lady Neverwinter brightened. "Oh, thank you. We will provision you for your journey, and a donation will be made to any organization of your choosing. May Chauntea bless you, Sir Yendar."

            Xenk left early the next day, well provisioned as promised; but his horse remained in the Neverwinter Stables—she was hotblooded and nobly bred, utterly unsuited for the frozen wastes of the far north—and if Xenk indeed died there, he could not be sure she would find her way south to where grass grew again.

            So Xenk made his way out of the city, walking alone under a blue and gold sunrise; and he did not look back.

            Hours became days, and Xenk made good time to Luskan; the final point before he reached Frozenfar, and the dangers there.

Xenk Yendar feared very little, confident in his abilities; but he knew the dangers of cold and ice, even so early in the season, and the desperate hungry creatures eager for any nourishment. The innkeeper at Luskan, after learning Xenk meant to go to Bryn Shander, shook his head.

“It’ll be an early winter,” he warned. “We’ve had caravans come through with stories about the mountain pass, and that was nearly a tenday ago. If you go up now, you won’t get out till Ches. Do you at least have snowshoes or skis?”

“I have been equipped properly, yes. I thank you for your warning. But my duty lies there, and I must be there by Highharvesttide; if I must stay until spring, then I shall.”

The innkeeper’s warning was given with experience and wisdom; but Xenk decided to enjoy the journey as he could.

  He had heard that the land of Icewind Dale was largely brown and grey, devoid of any life; but apparently those travellers had come at a different time, for Xenk saw no evidence of a dull, desolate land. Icewind Dale, despite reports to the contrary, was beautiful. The low shrubbery, though buffeted with the stiff, cold easterlies that seemed to always blow here, was still bright with the brief reds and oranges that preceded the winter storms; and the various serges and grasses were golden.

It wasn’t to last.

Two days out of Luskan, the snow began to fall, heavy and silent. Xenk bundled his furs closer to him, strapped on his shoeshoes, ensured his sword was still easily accessed, and trekked on—even as the snow got thicker, the wind grew colder, and the terrain more treacherous. He made sure he ate a little every hour, and prayed for fortitude as he forced a path through the snow, surrounded at all times by the howling wind. When he stopped for his evening rest, he kept his fire well fed, and he slept in snatches, wary of the things that crept in the tundra and preyed upon foolish travellers, whose sounds could be muffled by the blizzard; and the ever present threat of hypothermia.

In was in this slow, creeping fashion he made it to Bryn Shander; a five day journey stretched to eight, largely devoid of sun and warmth; and the innkeeper took one look at him as he trudged through the door, and instantly escorted him to a room, with the promise of a bath and dinner—both gratefully accepted. After he had eaten and bathed, he promptly threw himself into bed and slept straight through till morning.

            The next day, he made inquiries about the blue chapel; but no one seemed to know anything.

“You could ask up at Revel’s End, where the Polar Lady lives,” said one villager, doubtfully. “Mayhap they might know. Go down this road, and keep going north. As long as you stick to the path you’ll be alright. It shouldn’t take you much more than a day to get there, and like as not they’ll see you before you see them.”

            Xenk thanked him, and returned to the inn to prepare for what would, hopefully, be the final part of his journey.

            He left just as the cold dawn struggled its way into weak daylight, mindful of how short the days were at this time of year, before they disappeared utterly into the polar darkness. The tundra was now covered in snow, and the world was comprised of shades of grey and white.

It was a pleasant enough walk, even with the bulky shoeshoes and the tinted goggles; but tiring, in a way it should not have been, with a clear goal in mind and a test to prepare for.

It took several hours for Xenk to finally spot something on the horizon. As he moved closer, he began to discern the shape of what must be Revel’s End. 

Xenk stared at the castle, a small dark shadow against a backdrop of white, blue, and grey, shading into black—night came quickly, here on the shores of the Sea of Moving Ice. Xenk could hear the creaks and cracks of the sea, loud as any city street, and the lonely screams of birds above him. The castle was close, but not close enough; he would have to trek at least an hour to reach it.

The wind was picking up, and he was tired. Hopefully, whoever lived here would provide him with a corner to sleep in and directions, before he went on his way to find the Blue Chapel.

He began to make his way forward, huddled against the wind, when suddenly the shape he had written off as a seabird of some type swooped down and blurred into what Xenk assumed was a humanoid, similarly bundled against the wind.  

“It’s further away than it looks,” said the shape. “I’m Doric. Do you want some help?”

Xenk bowed, considering. It was unwise to trust to a stranger in this land; but if they were truly from the castle, it would be foolish to insult them. And he was very tired. "I would be grateful for your assistance, Doric."

"Okay." And suddenly there was an owlbear where once there was a person.

Xenk blinked. Such power—and an owlbear, which he had not known was possible. What else would he find at Revel’s End?

He removed his snowshoes and climbed on, and Doric began to run, fast and silent.

Beyond, the ice creaked.

Doric was fleet of foot, even with the encumbrance of a full-grown man with gear; it took them little time to reach the castle, where a bipedal Doric lead him into a small, somewhat shabby, but cozy room, with—Tyr be blessed—a fireplace, told him to sit, and then left to presumably alert someone to his presence.

Xenk sat. If he was wise, he would look around the room, and take stock of his potential hosts—but the fire was warm. Perhaps if he just—

The door opened and a sturdy looking barbarian woman with a massive waraxe entered.

“Doric says she found you in the snow. State your business here.”

Xenk stood, and bowed. “I am Xenk Yendar, and I come in the place of the young Neverwinter heir in search of the Blue Chapel, and the knight that lives there.”

            The woman sighed. “Of course you are. I suppose he was just a kid. Not my problem. Come.”

            And with that, she strode out of the room, clearly expecting him to follow.

To Xenk’s surprise, she did not lead him up the stairs; instead, she went further down the hall to a row of solid oak doors. One was open, and she jabbed a thumb at it.

“There’s your room. Unlucky for you, we’ve just had dinner, but we’ll have something sent in. Barek will see to you. If I catch you wandering around before morning it won’t be the Blue Knight that takes your head. Goodnight.”

And with that brusque instruction, she spun on her heel and left. Clearly, she was not a woman given to conversation.

Xenk looked around the room he had been given, while the serving man—Barek— stood by. It was small, but elegantly furnished; certainly more so than the sitting room he had been brought to first had been. But despite the elegance, it also looked comfortable—very unlike many other august bedchambers Xenk had slept in in his long life.

What Xenk was most intrigued by, however, was the copper bathtub, large enough for a man of his size to lay comfortably in, positioned by the low fire, with two knobs and a tray of small soaps and bottles. Indoor plumbing, this far to the north, which even the great castle in Waterdeep lacked; truly, the Polar Lady and her staff was fortunate, but the resources required—

“It’s from the hot spring, Sir Paladin. Aye, I know what you were thinkin’, people always do, when we get visitors. But my lord grew up a poor sailor and my lady’s a fine woman—there’s no waste of good firewood or coal, nor a mistreated dragon in the cellars for you to avenge. The other tap is cold water. Lavatory is that door there; don’t be startled, it’s magic.”

Oh. Well, then. Xenk relaxed, sensing the truth in Barek’s words. “Thank you, good sir.”

“None of that, none of that—Barek is fine. I’ll let you rest, now. My lord has provided you spare garments, and the captain has sent you some boiled linseed oil for your weapons; if you don’t mind, place anything you wish to be washed, and I’ll take it to the laundry before I bring your dinner.”

It took little time for Xenk to unpack and undress, and a short while later the man took his basket of travelstained clothing and departed, leaving Xenk naked in the room. The bathtub gleamed invitingly.

It was every bit as glorious as he had hoped; although the smell of sulphur nagged at his nose, it was worth it for the sensation of being immersed in hot water at will, leaching out the final chill in his bones; and to be clean, finally clean, and to have the time and space to care for his hair properly, as someone had apparently had time to note the texture and had thoughtfully left an assortment of care products for his use. He spent longer than he should have simply soaking; but the journey had been cold and arduous, and not a little lonely; Xenk would be warm while he could. He leaned back in the bathtub, and closed his eyes.

He must have dozed; for the next thing he knew, the water had become tepid, and there was a knocking at the door.

            “You decent?” called a voice, who was not Barek.

            “I am not. One moment, please.” Xenk removed himself from the bath and hurriedly dried himself, throwing on the undergarments and trousers he had been left. They were slightly tighter than he preferred; but they would do. He eyed the shirt, but decided it would be too tight.

“I apologize, I must have dozed—” he began as he opened the door, and came face to face with the bluest eyes he had ever seen, and a grin that one could only describe as rakish.

“Not a problem. I brought you food,” and here the man—for it was a man— nodded toward the covered plate he was carrying. “And I have instructions to make sure you’re comfortable and don’t intend to try and kill us all, or your head will be stuffed and mounted as a battle trophy. From my good wife and Captain Kilgore, respectively. I’m Ed, by the way—Seamaster Edgin Darvis, Consort of Her Grace, The Polar Lady, Captain of The Dragon’s Maw, if you want to get technical. Can I come in?”

Xenk stepped aside, and Ed headed for the small desk in the corner, depositing the plate on it. Xenk suddenly realized how hungry he was.

“Sit and eat, we aren’t formal here.” Ed moved out of the way with a gesture, and Xenk, for the second time that day, sat as instructed, and turned his attention the food—which appeared to be some kind of stew, heavy with the scent of spices; and Xenk wondered how such a remote place managed to acquire such expensive southern goods as nutmeg and clove. But it was good, hearty and warming. “Thank you,” he said politely, between mouthfuls. “You have been very kind to me, and I will not encroach upon your hospitality very long.”

The man waved him away. “Idiocy. The chapel’s close—don’t look at me like that, Holga told me about your quest—and you may as well stay the three days till Highharvesttide until you need to go there. And very well after, if this weather holds. And it’s not just me saying it! I get my orders from Herself, and she’s got opinions on that sort of thing.”

Ed had a lovely smile when talking about his lady wife, Xenk noticed. “The Polar Lady is very kind. Have you been wed long?”

“Zia’s the finest woman to bless the earth, that’s for certain. It’ll be ten years this Greengrass, and I’m the luckiest man alive. When you see her tomorrow, you’ll see why. Here, let me take your bowl, and I’ll let you sleep. G’night!”

And Ed left, taking his bowl with him. The room felt strangly empty without his presence.

Xenk turned away from the door, removed the borrowed trousers, and crawled into bed.

"I have received two gifts today." Slowly, Xenk withdrew the blue sash.

Ed looked at the sash, then at Xenk, and smiled. Xenk’s stomach flipped over again.

" Well, far be it from me to withdraw a favour. I'm not a tyrant. But you’ll need something more more substantial for the wind. I'll send you up a cloak for tomorrow--it gets cold on the hill. See you in the morning!"

            And with that, Edgin walked away, whistling cheerfully; while Xenk stood there, a Lady’s favour in his hand and the promise of a Lord’s on the morrow.

[belanegara4]

International Symposium on the "History and Legacy of Muslims in the Caribbean"

ircica.org

International Symposium on the "History and Legacy of Muslims in the Caribbean"

OIC IRCICA

6–8 minutes

The International Symposium on the “History and Legacy of Muslims in the Caribbean” organized by IRCICA, OIC General Secretariat, the Government of Guyana and Guyana University was opened by President H.E. Mohamed Irfaan Ali with a Feature Address on 4 September 2023. IRCICA Director General Prof. Mahmud Erol Kılıç gave an address at the opening ceremony. Moderated by Mr. Al Creighton, Dean of the Faculty of Humanities and Education of the University of Guyana, the ceremony started with Quran recitation and translation by Hafiz Salih Rahim, and heard the opening remarks of H.E. Mr. Hugh Hilton Todd, Minister of Foreign Affairs and International Cooperation; Dr. Abdullah Hakim Quick, Special Envoy of IRCICA to the Caribbean; Dr. Alhoucine Rhazoui, Director of Cultural Affairs, OIC General Sceretariat, as well as cultural items, consisting of the Islamic Chant in Urdu recited by Mr. Imran Ali, Deputy President of the Muslim Youth Organization, and the Islamic Chant in Yoruba language presented by Mr. Toyib Hamza. A press conference followed the opening session. The ceremony and the working sessions were held at Arthur Chung Conference Center in Georgetown.

Subsequently, the same day, IRCICA Director General Prof. Mahmud Erol Kılıç was received by H.E. President Mohamed Irfaan Ali for a welcoming meeting. Professor Kılıç briefed H.E. the President about IRCICA’s objectives and activities. Mr. Hugh Hilton Todd, Minister of Foreign Affairs and International Cooperation, high officials from Guyana, and the IRCICA delegation members, were also present at the meeting. Director General Prof. Kılıç presented H.E. President Irfaan Ali and Foreign Affairs Minister Mr. Hugh Todd with samples of IRCICA’s publications in the series of studies on the Holy Qur’an.

The working sessions of the symposium, spread over three days, were on the following themes:

First day, Session I: Globalization and Localization in the Caribbean: Aliyah Khan, University of Michigan, | The Qasida and Muslim Devotional Music in Guyana and Trinidad; Frank J. Korom, Boston University | The Current State of Hosay (Moharram) Observances in the Caribbean; Abdin Chande, Adelphi University | Migration and Identity of South Asians of the Caribbean and East African Indian Ocean Region: A Comparative Analysis; Maurits S. Hassankhan, Anton de Kom University of Suriname | Localization and Globalization of Religion: The Case of Hindustani Muslims in Suriname.

Session II: Islam in the Greater Caribbean from Early History to Today: Abdullah Hakim Quick, The Islamic Institute of Toronto | Aspects of Muslim History and Legacy in Pre-Columbian America; Juan Thomas Ordóñez, Universidad del Rosario | Caribbean Lebanon: The Muslim Experience on the Colombia/Venezuela Border; Mohamed A. Hakim, Islamic Educator and Social Activist in Haiti | History of Muslims in Haiti; Nuri Muhammad, Imam, Radio Commentator and Social Activist | The Evolution of Muslim Presence in Belize and the Significance of Garifuna Cultural Retrieval;

Session III: Panel on Black Atlantic Muslim Movements – Remapping and Theorizing Global South Migrations:  Youssef Carter, University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill | Western Sunrise in the Global South: The Islamic Party comes to the Caribbean; Tasneem Siddiqui, Drexel University | The Caribbean Is No Island: Rethinking Black Geographies through Muslim Resistance Movements; Nsenga Knight, Artist & Storyteller | Irregular Black Muslims: Diasporic Exchange & The Caribbean Elsewhere.

Second day, Session I: Guyanese Experience: Ateeka Khan, McMaster University | East Indians, Religion, and Politics in 20th Century Guyana; Nazim Baksh, Former Investigative Producer with Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) | Conflict, Continuity and Change of Religious Narratives and Practices of Muslims in Guyana (1977-1981); Ahmad Hamid, Imam and Researcher | The Challenges and Role of CIOG in the Transformation of the Muslim Community of Guyana from Chaos to Stability; Wazir Baksh, Historian and Community Activist | The Masjid as an Essential Institution to Preserve Faith and Social Cohesion: The Case of Guyana.

Session II: Voices from Trinidad and Tobago: Halima-Sa’adia Kassim, University of the West Indies | An Evaluation of the Resultant Negotiations of Living in an Alien Society: The Indo-Muslims of Trinidad Claiming Their Place; Nasser Mustapha & Mirza Ali Mohammad, University of the West Indies | Race and Ethnic Relations in Trinidad and Tobago; Anand Rampersad, University of the West Indies | Successful Muslim Cricketers in Trinidad and Tobago.

Session III: Economy, Identity and Decolonization in the Caribbean: Ibraheem Musa Tijani, International Islamic University Malaysia | The Economic Development and Commerce of the Muslim Communities in the Caribbean and the Emergence of Islamic Finance in the Region; Stanley L. Soeropawiro, Policy Advisor Religious Affairs, Ministry of Home Affairs (Suriname) | Economic Development among the Javanese Muslims in Suriname; Karimah Rahman, Toronto Metropolitan University | Decolonizing Muslim Indo-Caribbean Mental Health; Suleiman Bulbulia & Sabir Nakhuda, Historians and Authors | The Muslims of Barbados: Sustaining A Muslim Identity.

Third Day, Special Presentation at the University of Guyana by: Abdullah Hakim Quick, Nuri Muhammad, Mohamed A. Hakim and Stanley L. Soeropowero.

The closing ceremony of the symposium was conducted with the remarks of Prof. Dr. Aboubacar Abdullah Senghore, Assistant Director General, IRCICA and Ambassador Elisabeth Harper, Permanent Secretary, Ministry of Foreign Affairs and International Cooperation of Guyana.

On 5 September 2023, IRCICA Director General Prof. Mahmud Erol Kılıç had a meeting with Professor Paloma Mohamed Martin, Vice-Chancellor of the University of Guyana. The meeting was a fruitful occasion to exchange views on research and education in Islamic studies.

During the symposium period, Director General Prof. Mahmud Erol Kılıç held contacts and meetings with Muslim cultural institutions and educational organizations in Guyana including the Central Islamic Organization of Guyana (CIOG), Guyana Islamic Trust and the ISA School.