#Benefits of Cement Testing

[heicodynamics]

The benefits of cement testing are numerous, providing vital data that helps in achieving robust and durable constructions. At Heico Dynamics, we understand the significance of cement testing and offer advanced Cement testing equipment to meet the industry's stringent requirements.

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

overdid it yesterday and ive been teetering on the edge of a flare up for a while but that pushed me over the edge. i feel like shit !

[dandelionsresilience]

Good News - June 8-14

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $Kaybarr1735! And if you tip me and give me a way to contact you, at the end of the month I'll send you a link to all of the articles I found but didn't use each week!

1. Rare foal born on estate for first time in 100 years

“The Food Museum at Abbot's Hall in Stowmarket, Suffolk, is home to a small number of Suffolk Punch horses - a breed considered critically endangered by the Rare Breeds Survival Trust. A female foal was born on Saturday and has been named Abbots Juno to honour the last horse born at the museum in 1924. [...] Juno is just one of 12 fillies born so far this year in the country and she could potentially help produce more of the breed in the future.”

2. The cement that could turn your house into a giant battery

“[Scientists] at Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) have found a way of creating an energy storage device known as a supercapacitor from three basic, cheap materials – water, cement and a soot-like substance called carbon black. [... Supercapacitators] can charge much more quickly than a lithium ion battery and don't suffer from the same levels of degradation in performance. [... Future applications of this concrete might include] roads that store solar energy and then release it to recharge electric cars wirelessly as they drive along a road [... and] energy-storing foundations of houses.”

3. New road lights, fewer dead insects—insect-friendly lighting successfully tested

“Tailored and shielded road lights make the light source almost invisible outside the illuminated area and significantly reduces the lethal attraction for flying insects in different environments. [...] The new LED luminaires deliver more focused light, reduce spill light, and are shielded above and to the side to minimize light pollution. [... In contrast,] dimming the conventional lights by a factor of 5 had no significant effect on insect attraction.”

4. When LGBTQ health is at stake, patient navigators are ready to help

“[S]ome health care systems have begun to offer guides, or navigators, to get people the help they need. [... W]hether they're just looking for a new doctor or taking the first step toward getting gender-affirming care, "a lot of our patients really benefit from having someone like me who is there to make sure that they are getting connected with a person who is immediately going to provide a safe environment for them." [... A navigator] also connects people with LGBTQ community organizations, social groups and peer support groups.”

5. Tech company to help tackle invasive plant species

“Himalayan balsam has very sugary nectar which tempts bees and other pollinators away from native plants, thereby preventing them from producing seed. It outcompetes native plant species for resources such as sunlight, space and nutrients. [...] The volunteer scheme is open to all GWT WilderGlos users who have a smartphone and can download the Crowdorsa app, where they can then earn up to 25p per square meter of Balsam removed.”

6. [Fish & Wildlife] Service Provides Over $14 Million to Benefit Local Communities, Clean Waterways and Recreational Boaters

“The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service is distributing more than $14 million in Clean Vessel Act grants to improve water quality and increase opportunities for fishing, shellfish harvests and safe swimming in the nation’s waterways. By helping recreational boaters properly dispose of sewage, this year’s grants will improve conditions for local communities, wildlife and recreational boaters in 18 states and Guam.”

7. Bornean clouded leopard family filmed in wild for first time ever

“Camera traps in Tanjung Puting National Park in Indonesian Borneo have captured a Bornean clouded leopard mother and her two cubs wandering through a forest. It's the first time a family of these endangered leopards has been caught on camera in the wild, according [to] staff from the Orangutan Foundation who placed camera traps throughout the forest to learn more about the elusive species.”

8. Toy library helps parents save money 'and the planet'

“Started in 2015 by Annie Berry, South Bristol's toy library aims to reduce waste and allow more children access to more - and sometimes expensive - toys. [...] Ms Berry partnered with the St Philips recycling centre on a pilot project to rescue items back from landfill, bringing more toys into the library. [...] [P]eople use it to support the environment, take out toys that they might not have the space for at home or be able to afford, and allow children to pick non-gender specific toys.”

9. Chicago Receives $3M Grant to Inventory Its Trees and Create Plan to Manage City’s Urban Forest

“The Chicago Park District received a $1.48 million grant [“made available through the federal Inflation Reduction Act”] to complete a 100% inventory of its estimated 250,000 trees, develop an urban forestry management plan and plant 200 trees in disadvantaged areas with the highest need. As with the city, development of the management plan is expected to involve significant community input.”

10. Strong Public Support for Indigenous Co-Stewardship Plan for Bears Ears National Monument

“[The NFW has a] plan to collaboratively steward Bears Ears National Monument to safeguard wildlife, protect cultural resources, and better manage outdoor recreation. The plan was the result of a two-year collaboration among the five Tribes of the Bears Ears Inter-Tribal Coalition and upholds Tribal sovereignty, incorporates Traditional Ecological Knowledge, and responsibly manages the monument for hunting, fishing, and other outdoor recreation while ensuring the continued health of the ecosystem.”

June 1-7 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[dancingdonatello]

Rise boys (romantically/separate) x reader who can like phase through things but can't control it.

Like they're maybe talking to one of them while leaning against a wall and just phases through the wall into another room.

Like do they try to help the reader control it, maybe sneak around to scare someone, test it (Donnie lol)

You don't have to do this just wanted to add it :3

Have a lovely day (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

rise tmnt x reader

Raph freaks when you fade through walls and can’t fade back. It’s another Mayhem situation. He will literally tear through the wall to get to you instead of just waiting for you to get a hang of it and come back yourself. If it’s a cement wall or something harder to get through, he will recruit Donnie and his drill.

Absolutely oblivious to any pranks you try to play on him. He has accidentally punched you in the face before when you appeared suddenly through the wall. This sent you back through the wall and in a panic, as always, he destroyed the wall.

Leo will cry and laugh hysterically when you fall through walls. He acts like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen, just to embarrass you. He’ll constantly shove you into walls to watch you disappear. Of course, if you’re really stuck, he can portal you out.

Leo definitely uses it to his advantage. He makes you go steal stuff from his brothers, get his phone back from Splinter, or even steal some of April’s skin care that he wants to try out.

Donnie hates it. You’re able to get through his locked lab doors. You can bother him whenever you want now. The only benefit to this is that he doesn’t know how it works and he wants to find out more about it.

He tries to see how many walls you can phase through in a row. Can you phase through cement? Dry wall? Wood? Do you get tired when doing it? Hungry? He has a new spreadsheet on you now.

Mikey wants to do it. He’s super jealous. He tries to use his mystic powers to try and learn, because if he learned how to open a portal, then he can totally learn how to phase through walls. That’s how he finally comes up with the idea for the two of you to learn how to do it together! If he finds out he can do it, he can help you at the same time.

And that is how you both end up stuck in an inter dimensional space. But at least you’re together!

[probablyasocialecologist]

There was no better political, military, diplomatic, and ideological alliance between like-minded nations than Israel and apartheid South Africa. The apartheid regime in Pretoria took power in 1948 and soon put in place Nazi-style restrictions on nonwhites, from forbidding marriage between the races to barring blacks from many jobs. The South African Jewish community was strongly pro-Israel and became the biggest financial backer of Israel per capita after 1948. A majority of these Jews benefited from South African apartheid and supported its continuation. A small but notable minority bravely opposed it and joined the African National Congress (ANC) in its campaign for liberation. By the time the South African and Israeli governments cemented a political, ideological, and military relationship in the 1970s, often centered on weapons that had been developed and tested by the Israeli military, many in the ruling Israeli Likud party felt an affinity with South Africa’s worldview. As journalist and author of The Unspoken Alliance Sasha Polakow-Suransky writes, it was an “ideology of minority survivalism that presented the two countries as threatened outposts of European civilisation defending their existence against barbarians at the gate.

Antony Loewenstein, The Palestine Laboratory: How Israel Exports the Technology of Occupation Around the World

[nervousd]

Side story— Unexpected

→ Infatuation | m.list

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

#SYNOPSIS- an unexpected outcome happens

#WARNING(S)— This is a dark fic, implications of babytrapping, talks of abortion, implications of noncon/dubcon, unwanted pregnancy, talks of miscarriage, implications of physical abuse, talks of death(?), older man/younger woman, obsession, possessive, yandere, implications of platonic yandere

#CHARACTER(S)— Colonel Miles Quaritch

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❝ Fuck— Fuck! ❞ countless items were scattered across the floor, you threw everything that was near— a vase with nice decorated flowers gifted by the man that had brought you down to situation. Clothes that were gifted by him— accessories that he gifted you. Your voice grew louder, pulse racing and breath labored— your muscles were tensed as you could feel your blood boiling. With nothing else near your reach you were left restlessly

Your fingers fidgeted, restless to distract your attention somewhere else. The taunting thin blue lines however seemed to be mocking you. Numerous pregnancy test were scattered across the floor, they weren’t easy to get either— your fingers crept up towards your hair pulling at the rots. You aren’t ready to be a mother— to have a child. Tears welled up in frustration— this wasn’t possible. You were careful— you were sure of it. Had taken the morning after pill religiously— even if you were reassured that a condom would be used. An ugly expression crept up your face, your fingers balled into a fist and slammed them down on the cement.

A profanity of curses escaped past your lips, ❝ That damn dog— That Bastard! ❞ it was no secret who the father of your unborn child is— or rather clump of cells. There was still time— to get rid of it. As cruel as it sounds it was reasonable wasn’t it? How can you bring a child into such a cruel world? This was no life and neither was earth. How can you even be pregnant? As much as you wanted to delude yourself into thinking all the pregnancy test were false there was no denying the truth. The morning sickness and lack of period was enough confirmation for you.

But even then— none of this made sense. You couldn’t be pregnant, you were careful— too careful. Hell maybe you could even call yourself paranoid. The Colonel— no Miles had done something. He had begun to act oddly one day. You knew him well— too well. He was up to something— at one point you had devised a plan to find out. Much to your horror— Miles had began dreaming of building a family with you. He whispered his desires and dreams when he thought you were asleep, hand caressing your stomach. You laid wide awake that night, unable to sleep. And now here you are pregnant— what a fuckin coincidence isn’t it? He did something— he is the reason why you were pregnant.

You held no feelings for this man— couldn’t even bear to think of having a child with him. You despised him— but there was a perk to this unique relationship with him. You would use his affections not only for you benefit but for the avatar program as well. If all you had to do was batt your eyelashes at him or whispering sweet nothings into his ear, you can get him to consent to a small favor for you— of course they were never small. There were even talks of regaining peace with the na’vi when the destruction and attacks were cut down by the RDA. So what if you were using him? In the end you were that one that was fulfilling his never ending lust.

You had relatively managed to clam yourself down, the pregnancy test weren’t false nor were they wrong. You were pregnant— that is a fact. Not once had you missed taking the pill— so how could this happen? Unless the pills were fake. You scrambled towards your room, searching aimlessly for the bottle of pills. Popping the cap bottle, the pills scattered across the floor. You analyzed each of the pills, nothing seemed wrong with them. Until the sweet sugary smell met your nose— they were placebos. They didn’t crumble with the slightest touch of pressure unless there was force applied. Sugar pills— they were sugar pills. You’ve been eating sugar pills for months.

Anger bubbled within your chest, how have you not noticed you’ve been eating sugar pills for months? You were an idiot— a fool— You had asked Miles for the pills seeing as you had no other way to get them. But for how long have you been a fool in his eyes? You trusted him— you never thought he would do something as vile as this. Either way, what’s done is done. There is no way to get out of this situation. It would be impossible to terminate this pregnancy— sure there were doctors stationed here in Pandora but they weren’t the type of doctor you needed. God knows they don’t have the necessary equipment either. Abortion isn’t possible— a miscarriage is possible but even than such a feat would be dangerous.

Tears blurred your vision, there was no way out of this scenario. You were stuck— and you refused to even entertain the thought of going to Miles. If anything he would be ecstatic of the news. It’s what he wanted— and he got it. He wanted a family and it’s now possible— he wants to be father. He is going to be father. But you can rob him of that experience— you can rob him of being present. And with that in mind you had decided there and than you would leave.

It wasn’t going to be easy— not with soldiers stationed at every corner of the building, being kept under his watchful eye was difficult to get out of. But that wouldn’t stop you from packing your bags. With your mind made up you had decided to flee— Grace was going to meet you at Site 26. But to get there you would need a chopper. Thankfully— Trudy had taken pity on your situation. She was someone you often confided in and was quick to realize the true colors of your relationship with the Colonel. Often— she would help in hiding you; away from his leering gaze. You were grateful for her help— knowing once the colonel caught wind of what you had done— and what she had done a punishment would be laid out for her ‘ insubordination ‘

Grace had welcomed you with open arms, ushering you inside as she rambled about her latest data collection. The place was in shambles to say the least— papers scattered across the floor and counters— it was Grace’s way of coping through her grief. Her wound was still fresh— unable to accepted what happened— the school was attacked by the RDA— ultimately resulting in the death of na’vi children. It was a difficult time for Grace— while you held no bonds with the na’vi you were still sympathetic towards them. But alas earth was dying and in need of resources fast— it was crue but it was to be done.

You settled down rather quickly, enjoying the beautiful scenery and the comforting presence Grace offered. You told her of your troubles; finding it difficult to keep it a secret. She was furious to say the least— insulted him with every curse she knew. A part of you was was overjoyed to see you weren’t alone in this situation; you had someone by your side — a part of you resented her for it after all none of this would of happened if it wasn’t for her

And she knew that— why else would she be so kind? The days had gone by quick— they were peaceful on your part. Morning sickness was a pain to get through— it left you exhausted and unable to cope with any other type of food that had a strong odor.

—

But the peace wouldn’t last for long— a chopper had landed near the site, a group of soldiers came rushing in with none other than Colonel Miles Quaritch leading his group of men. He had a mean look on his face, he stormed in; slamming doors against the walls. Grace was quick to stand up to your defense, a bubble of anger churning in her stomach. She despised him— oh how she hated him. She didn’t hold back on her curses, calling him every single profanity she could. She did anything to distract him from you— it’s the least she could

She was detained by his group of men, yelling her to calm down as she struggled against their cuffs. They dragged her off towards the chopper claiming Parker wanted to have a word with her due to her ‘ negligence’ You were alone now— with no one to protect you from the terrifying beast. A brief silence washed over, he kissed his teeth in annoyance ❝Found you— had me runnin’ around the base lookin for you ❞ his voice drawled out ❝— so, you what? Decided to run? Didn’t exactly think this through did you, Princess? ❞ his steps were menacing as he loomed over you. He cupped your cheek, thumb stroking your cheekbone— an act of affection you were familiarized with. He gently coaxed your eyes to look up and meet his own— he looked relieved.

His other palm slid up your waist tugging you towards him. He tucked you underneath his chin, pressing against you— as if he was trying to mold your body to his. He relaxes for a brief moment of time, only able to calm himself feeling your warmth pressed up against his chest. His muscles loosen, eyes hazing; he wonders how things came to be like this— how he became like this. If you weren’t so supple and sweet— if you didn’t fit perfectly against him and make the prettiest of sounds for him— it wouldn’t of come to this. For a long time, there was a silence between you two. Then, he smiled, pearly white teeth shown, ❝ You know, for a while I thought it wasn’t gonna take, seeing as how many times my seed never took— but imagine my surprise when I find out you’re expecting— expecting my kid. My son— you didn’t exactly make it hard to find out ❞

His fingers pressed against your skin— bruising, almost, ❝you’re being an irresponsible mother to our son ❞ he hissed through his clenched teeth. ❝ Taken my son away from me— from his father ❞ You’re body trembled beneath his brushing holding, Miles notices it immediately; eyes softening in response. He releases a sigh; wary and tired— exhausted. A remorseful look crossed his face— but only a second; back to a stern cold look. He directly looks toward your protruding belly, his hand caresses your small bump— you have the urge to slap his hand away; to scream and yell. Do anything in your power to cause him harm, ❝ Things are going to change— starting with your attitude ❞

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━━━ : © NERVOUS.D

[fatehbaz]

"defending civilization against bugs"

lol the mosquito sculpture

see Pratik Chakrabarti's Medicine and Empire: 1600-1960 (2013) and Bacteriology in British India: Laboratory Medicine and the Tropics (2012)

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Sir Ronald Ross had just returned from an expedition to Sierra Leone. The British doctor had been leading efforts to tackle the malaria that so often killed English colonists in the country, and in December 1899 he gave a lecture to the Liverpool Chamber of Commerce [...]. [H]e argued that "in the coming century, the success of imperialism will depend largely upon success with the microscope."

Text by: Rohan Deb Roy. "Decolonise science - time to end another imperial era." The Conversation. 5 April 2018.

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[A]s [...] Diane Nelson explains: The creation of transportation infrastructure such as canals and railroads, the deployment of armies, and the clearing of ground to plant tropical products all had to confront [...] microbial resistance. The French, British, and US raced to find a cure for malaria [...]. One French colonial official complained in 1908: “fever and dysentery are the ‘generals’ that defend hot countries against our incursions and prevent us from replacing the aborigines that we have to make use of.” [...] [T]ropical medicine was assigned the role of a “counterinsurgent field.” [...] [T]he discovery of mosquitoes as malaria and yellow fever carriers reawakened long-cherished plans such as the construction of the Panama Canal (1904-1914) [...]. In 1916, the director of the US Bureau of Entomology and longtime general secretary of the American Association for the Advancement of Science rejoiced at this success as “an object lesson for the sanitarians of the world” - it demonstrated “that it is possible for the white race to live healthfully in the tropics.” [...] The [...] measures to combat dangerous diseases always had the collateral benefit of social pacification. In 1918, [G.V.], president of the Rockefeller Foundation, candidly declared: “For purposes of placating primitive and suspicious peoples, medicine has some decided advantages over machine guns." The construction of the Panama Canal [...] advanced the military expansion of the United States in the Caribbean. The US occupation of the Canal Zone had already brought racist Jim Crow laws [to Panama] [...]. Besides the [...] expansion of vice squads and prophylaxis stations, during the night women were picked up all over the city [by US authorities] and forcibly tested for [...] diseases [...] [and] they were detained in something between a prison and hospital for up to six months [...] [as] women in Panama were becoming objects of surveillance [...].

Text by: Fahim Amir. "Cloudy Swords." e-flux Journal Issue #115. February 2021.

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Richard P. Strong [had been] recently appointed director of Harvard’s new Department of Tropical Medicine [...]. In 1914 [the same year of the Canal's completion], just one year after the creation of Harvard’s Department of Tropical Medicine, Strong took on an additional assignment that cemented the ties between his department and American business interests abroad. As newly appointed director of the Laboratories of the Hospitals and of Research Work of United Fruit Company, he set sail in July 1914 to United Fruit plantations in Cuba, Guatemala, Honduras, Costa Rica, and Panama. […] As a shareholder in two British rubber plantations, [...] Strong approached Harvey Firestone, chief executive of the tire and rubber-processing conglomerate that bore his name, in December 1925 with a proposal [...]. Firestone had negotiated tentative agreements in 1925 with the Liberian government for [...] a 99-year concession to optionally lease up to a million acres of Liberian land for rubber plantations. [...]

[I]nfluenced by the recommendations and financial backing of Harvard alumni such as Philippine governor Gen. William Cameron Forbes [the Philippines were under US military occupation] and patrons such as Edward Atkins, who were making their wealth in the banana and sugarcane industries, Harvard hired Strong, then head of the Philippine Bureau of Science’s Biological Laboratory [where he fatally infected unknowing test subject prisoners with bubonic plague], and personal physician to Forbes, to establish the second Department of Tropical Medicine in the United States [...]. Strong and Forbes both left Manila [Philippines] for Boston in 1913. [...] Forbes [US military governor of occupied Philippines] became an overseer to Harvard University and a director of United Fruit Company, the agricultural products marketing conglomerate best known for its extensive holdings of banana plantations throughout Central America. […] In 1912 United Fruit controlled over 300,000 acres of land in the tropics [...] and a ready supply of [...] samples taken from the company’s hospitals and surrounding plantations, Strong boasted that no “tropical school of medicine in the world … had such an asset. [...] It is something of a victory [...]. We could not for a million dollars procure such advantages.” Over the next two decades, he established a research funding model reliant on the medical and biological services the Harvard department could provide US-based multinational firms in enhancing their overseas production and trade in coffee, bananas, rubber, oil, and other tropical commodities [...] as they transformed landscapes across the globe.

Text by: Gregg Mitman. "Forgotten Paths of Empire: Ecology, Disease, and Commerce in the Making of Liberia's Plantation Economy." Environmental History, Volume 22, Number 1. January 2017. [Text within brackets added by me for clarity and context.]

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[On] February 20, 1915, [...] [t]o signal the opening of the Panama-Pacific International Exposition (PPIE), [...] [t]he fair did not officially commence [...] until President Wilson [...] pressed a golden key linked to an aerial tower [...] whose radio waves sparked the top of the Tower of Jewels, tripped a galvanometer, [...] swinging open the doors of the Palace of Machinery, where a massive diesel engine started to rotate. [...] [W]ith lavish festivities [...] nineteen million people has passed through the PPIE's turnstiles. [...] As one of the many promotional pamphlets declared, "California marks the limit of the geographical progress of civilization. For unnumbered centuries the course of empire has been steadily to the west." [...] One subject that received an enormous amount of time and space was [...] the areas of race betterment and tropical medicine. Indeed, the fair's official poster, the "Thirteenth Labor of Hercules," [the construction of the Panama Canal] symbolized the intertwined significance of these two concerns [...]. [I]n the 1910s public health and eugenics crusaders alike moved with little or no friction between [...] [calls] for classification of human intelligence, for immigration restriction, for the promotion of the sterilization and segregation of the "unfit," [...]. It was during this [...] moment, [...] that California's burgeoning eugenicist movement coalesced [...]. At meetings convened during the PPIE, a heterogenous group of sanitary experts, [...] medical superintendents, psychologists, [...] and anthropologists established a social network that would influence eugenics on the national level in the years to come. [...]

In his address titled "The Physician as Pioneer," the president-elect of the American Academy of Medicine, Dr. Woods Hutchinson, credited the colonization of the Mississippi Valley to the discovery of quinine [...] and then told his audience that for progress to proceed apace in the current "age of the insect," the stringent sanitary regime imposed and perfected by Gorgas in the Canal Zone was the sine qua non. [...]

Blue also took part in the conference of the American Society for Tropical Medicine, which Gorgas had cofounded five years after the annexation of Cuba, Puerto Rico, and the Philippines. Invoking the narrative of medico-military conquest [...], [t]he scientific skill of the United States was also touted at the Pan-American Medical Congress, where its president, Dr. Charles L. Reed, delivered a lengthy address praising the hemispheric security ensured by the 1823 Monroe Doctrine and "the combined genius of American medical scientists [...]" in quelling tropical diseases, above all yellow fever, in the Canal Zone. [...] [A]s Reed's lecture ultimately disclosed, his understanding of Pan-American medical progress was based [...] on the enlightened effects of "Aryan blood" in American lands. [...] [T]he week after the PPIE ended, Pierce was ordered to Laredo, Texas, to investigate several incidents of typhus fever on the border [...]. Pierce was instrumental in fusing tropical medicine and race betterment [...] guided by more than a decade of experience in [...] sanitation in Panama [...]. [I]n August 1915, Stanford's chancellor, David Starr Jordan [...] and Pierce were the guests of honor at a luncheon hosted by the Race Betterment Foundation. [...] [At the PPIE] [t]he Race Betterment booth [...] exhibit [...] won a bronze medal for "illustrating evidences and causes of race degeneration and methods and agencies of race betterment," [and] made eugenics a daily feature of the PPIE. [...] [T]he American Genetics Association's Eugenics Section convened [...] [and] talks were delivered on the intersection of eugenics and sociology, [...] the need for broadened sterilization laws, and the medical inspection of immigrants [...]. Moreover, the PPIE fostered the cross-fertilization of tropical medicine and race betterment at a critical moment of transition in modern medicine in American society.

Text by: Alexandra Minna Stern. Eugenic Nation: Faults and Frontiers of Better Breeding in Modern America. Second Edition. 2016.

[heliphantie]

"Leap of Faith", ep. 20(85) of season 4 (March 29, 2014).

“Flim Flam Miracle Curative Tonic is Granny Smith tested and Applejack approved! Granny Smith drinks it, why shouldn’t you?”

“Leap of Faith” may be my favorite Applejack episode, favorite S4 episode and one of the top favorite episodes in entire FiM! Applejack-focused episodes in particular are interesting in that, rather than having her learned to be true to her Element, they’re often about testing her faithfulness to it, making her putting her sense of justice in question and having to decide when she ought to follow her moral compass without risk to bring harm with it instead of benefits.

Flim & Flam, in that regard, make pretty good antagonists for her. Two families have quite a few similar priorities: like Apples, Bros are pragmatic, seeking profit from their actions, and work perfectly in sinch for common goal, but their ethics are diametrically different, and as it happens, Applejack sometimes even prone to fall into temptation to use rather similar tactics (take decision to rationalize technology in lieu of traditional work, or use invitation to gala for /pretty sure, illegal in these circumstances/ selling apple products here to rich attendees – wouldn’t she just ask Celestia for financial aid to the national hero’s family instead? – and don’t we forget her alliance with Filthy Rich without Granny’s consent) before it backfires on her as well. So, she has valid reasons for having disdain for methods of Bros, because she’s been here as well and reaped the bitter fruits of blindly following such policies.

Brothers, in particular, make formidable kind of antagonists on the show: for representing most realistic, mundane, everyday sort of evil, which can’t be redeemed or obliterated unlike any other foe our heroes had to stand against. The evil of commerce and material greed! Moreso, they even can be amicable and work together with heroes without having to change their ways, if that means any mutual benefits. (And basically cemented as allies of Mane 6 in the end of the series.) For, as it turns, money is at once the major drive and major scourge of society, be it mankind or ponies.

Anyway, the moral of this particular story is, one crazy old lady is enough to put the crushing end to your successful scam operation. Fatal flaw of these sleek guys appears to be not thinking their schemes far enough to prevent coming close to any possible source of damage. Other than that, they’re pretty fine, aren’t they? They’re, essentially, an embodiment of the main reason for the franchise itself – product promotion, no wonder they’re more frenemies than foes in the end of day.

[theinternetisaweboflies]

Love’s What Makes a Shatterdome a Shatterhome

There wasn't a sufficient sample size of Jaeger pilots who had both survived long enough for chronic effects of the drift to be studied comprehensively, but there were a couple of disability discharges who reported ghost drift over a decade after service.

It was usually stronger in REM, shared nightmares of shared trauma. It could also manifest as emotions, thoughts, physical sensations, or even idiosyncrasies. Raleigh Beckett swore he had never bitten his nails till he drifted with Mako Mori.

As Dr. Hermann Gottleib put it once (but only after he’d drifted with Dr. Newton Geizsler), “The ghost drift is hinky.”

It was hinkier if you third-wheeled with a kaiju.

Newt and Hermann both experienced the surviving hive mind’s collective fury at the closure of the Breach. It kept them in Medical for two weeks, clutching their heads, or sometimes each other’s. (A paragraph from Newt’s 2021 paper on drift-related neurological damage suggested that co-treatment benefited the affected pilots, but it was the response from pilots themselves that cemented it as medical practice. Queen-sized gurneys and hospital beds were standard at most Shatterdomes by 2025.)

After a few days in Medical, Hermann’s migraines began to dissipate. 

Newt’s did not. 

The Ghost drift was even hinkier if it was just you and the kaiju.

“Hey, Hermann?” said Newt. 

They finally had a brief respite from Medical’s gauntlet of neurological tests, from MRI scans to a brain biopsies when the scans revealed encephalitis. They were sitting in bed, side by side, Newt filling out reports on his tablet, and Hermann writing equations on the actual paper that he still insisted on using like he was Amish or something. Newt definitely did not think that was cute. He’d only indulged it during their penpal days because something about pen and paper seemed to slow down his thought processes a little. Unless that was just Hermann.

Hermann gave a distracted but encouraging hum. 

“We’re going to be together for- for a while longer right?” asked Newt. 

Hermann looked up, no longer distracted now that there was an opportunity to be snippy. “Were you even paying attention to the doctors this morning?”

“No.” Newt shrugged. “I knew you were.”

Hermann gave one of his long-suffering sighs. “According to the medical professionals who are doing their utmost to keep you alive despite your predilection for suicidal recklessness and energy drinks, we will be together for the foreseeable future. I am, apparently, the only available control for all of your…” he gestured vaguely at all of Newt, “variables.”

“That was a yes, right?”

“Yes.” Hermann sighed again. “I was just beginning to picture a life outside of this place too. Can you imagine? No more brutalist architecture.”

“I found the brutalist architecture comforting. It’s always the same, where you go. Like McDonald’s,” said Newt, before adding, “No more morning reveille.”

“Of course that’s what you would look forward to.” Hermann rubbed his bad hip absentmindedly.  “No more having to traverse miles of Jaeger bays for coffee that tastes like it was brewed in one of your sample tanks.” 

“You didn’t know about my side hustle?” Newt joked, because he was still Newt, at least for now. The world could be ending, and he would be joking about it. He had done so repeatedly, in fact, until Stacker Pentecost took him aside to tell him that ongoing counted as ‘too soon.’ After that, he kept his gallows humor to the lab, where it was, if not appreciated, at least tolerated. 

Hermann almost smiled. 

It was now or never. 

“Hey, uh, can I ask you for a favor?” 

“What?” Hermann’s eyebrows shot up so high they were hidden by his bowlcut. 

Newt never asked for favors. He demanded: peer review, full control of their ostensibly shared radio, attention. He took: liberties, five hours to reply to an email despite having a comparable number of screens open simultaneously, bites of Hermann’s food when he was distracted. 

Newt didn’t like to ask for anything. He had gotten the impression early in life that the answer would always be no. 

He hadn’t even asked Hermann to drift with him. Sometimes that helped with the guilt, but not often. 

“If I start acting weird- I mean weird for me- Look, you know me better than anyone.” Newt couldn’t look Hermann in the eye after that, so he made his request to Hermann’s knees. “Promise me if I start acting weird in a weird way, you’ll stop me.”

“Stop you?” 

“Just do something. Or make sure I don’t do… something. I don’t know, man. I-”

“Newton, you’re shaking.” Hermann sounded like he had just finished an equation only to realize he forgot to carry the two several chalkboards back. “You’re scared. You’re never scared…. You weren’t even scared when you drifted with a kaiju.” 

Newt was suddenly grateful that Hermann hadn’t accompanied him to the bone slums, and not just because he never would have made it to the shelter on time. 

“Maybe I should have been?” It was the closest Newt would ever get to admitting he was wrong, at least in front of Hermann. 

“What are you talking about, Newton?”

“It’s like…. I can tell when you’re ghost drifting with the hive, right?” Newt started awkwardly. “It’s always at night, and it always wakes you up, even though you act like it doesn’t, like you forget you’re attached to about seven different monitors, and I can feel it through our ghost drift, but it’s so fucking faint .”

“Faint?” repeated Hermann, although for a second Newt thought it was a warning because he had gone even paler than usual. 

“When I see them…. it’s different. It’s intense, but I don’t think it even makes it through our drift. It’s like they’re in my brain instead of my mind.”

“What does that even mean ?”

“I don’t know, man. Maybe there isn’t a word for it in our language, like Schadenfreude or 

something. I don’t fucking know. All I know is-” here Newt realizes he hadn’t inhaled in a while and took a deep breath. “I’m the only connection left. Maybe it would be better if-”

“No!”

Newt was usually the loud one, but this time it was Hermann turning heads. A nurse hushed them. Hermann didn’t seem to notice.

His forehead hit Newt’s own hard enough to be considered assault, but then he just… left it there. 

Usually, when they weren’t in the middle of a seance with the Hive, they kept to their sides of their Queen-sized hospital bed, despite the lack of tape. Now Hermann’s breath was on Newt’s face, and his hands were on his wrists, white-knuckled, like he knew what was under the tattoos. 

Newt felt something through their ghost drift, but it was gone before he could parse it. 

“No,” Hermann said again. Well, it was his favorite word. “We’ll talk to Medical. We’ll explain that you- we require further testing.”

“Hermann, they biopsied our brains. If they tested us any further, it would be vivisection. They haven’t found shit. Whatever the Precursors are doing to me-”

“What did you call them?” Hermann interrupted. He rarely let Newt finish his sentences, which Newt had tried to convince himself was romantic at one point. Then again, Newt’s sentences did tend to run on. Sometimes even he lost track of what he was saying. It had been happening a lot more often of late. 

“I- What? What did I call who?”

“The- You just called them the Precursors.”

Newt hadn’t even noticed. “That doesn’t make sense,” he said, mostly to himself. “I can’t speak their language. How could I tell what they were saying?”

“Please tell me this is all one of your horrible jokes,” said Hermann. “I would be so relieved that I probably wouldn’t even slap you.”

“That actually sounds kind of hot, but I’m not joking. Even I have my limits. Apparently.”

Hermann shook his head, either in disagreement or in disbelief. 

“Look, Hermann… If I tell Medical about this, I’m probably going to end up in some basement facility in New Mexico for the rest of my life, or- hell, maybe they will vivisect me.”

“You can’t believe that.”

“You can’t believe that ! They’re not going to risk another war over one annoying scientist.”

“You saved the world,” said Hermann.

“Not if I end it next,” said Newt. He let that sink in for a moment before continuing. “Look, man, I’d have already given myself an air embolism, but I would appreciate some time to settle affairs first. Say goodbye to Dad and Uncle Illia, make sure the history wikis get it right- that sort of thing. You’re the only person I can trust to buy me that time.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, while Hermann processed that. Newt knew better than to rush him. He was calculating probabilities in that big beautiful brain of his. At least the Precursors hadn’t gotten it. Newt could die happy enough, knowing that.

“It might yet fade,” Hermann said eventually. “Ghost drifts often do. Until then, we’ll stay together. I’ll monitor you for aberrant behavior, as you requested.”

“You’d do that for me?” Newt asked, and didn’t redact himself this time. 

“Yes.”

“You’d kill me?” Hermann flinched, but Newt could never shut up, even when he knew he should. “Only if I’m too far gone to do it myself. Please, Hermann. Promise.”

“...I promise.” Hermann’s voice was so quiet that Newt could barely hear it over the hum of their fourteen collective monitors. 

“Thanks, man.” That didn’t exactly cover it, but Newt didn’t think either one of them could handle what he wanted to say. He cleared his throat. “So when we move in together…. What’s your pet policy?”

“Please tell me you have not cloned miniature kaiju, Newton.” Hermann still sounded like he was doing that stiff-upper-lip thing even though he wasn’t even really British.

“Shh. Don’t give the Precursors any ideas.”

“Precursors. Are you sure you didn’t make that up? You do make up a lot of words.”

“All words are made up,” said Newt.

“Not usually all at once though.”

“Is this about ‘al desko’ again?”

“The term is ‘al fresco’.”

“Not when it’s at your desk. Loosen up a little, Hermann. It’s a neologism. English is a living language.”

He sniffed daintily. “Well, perhaps it should be put out of its misery.”

Hermann was still sniffing a few minutes later, so Newt turned to face the window and give him a little privacy. He supposed small talk was a lot to ask someone who you had also asked to euthanize you. 

He couldn’t tell Hermann that the ghost drift was doing the opposite of fading. Already, he could feel the Precursors’ presence in his mind, not quite constantly, but near enough, like a song that gets stuck, or guilt you can’t talk yourself out of, or a headache that no amount of military-grade Ibuprofen can cure.

Newt also had a real headache, but that might have been from Hermann’s headbutt. He was surprisingly strong for a… Herman. Must have been all that physiotherapy. Newt tried thinking about baseball before the monitors could give away the direction his thoughts had actually taken. Unfortunately, he knew jack shit about baseball.

“Hey, Hermann?” Newt turned back around, figuring he’d given Hermann at least a minute to himself, which was probably some sort of record. 

Hermann was already looking at him, an unreadable expression on his face. Maybe the stiff upper lip was something they taught in those British boarding schools.

Newt found he didn’t know what to say. Not that it had ever stopped him before. “I don’t know about you, but I’m actually going to miss this place a little.”

“Medical?”

“Hong Kong,” he corrected. “Well mostly the lab, I guess.”

The stacks of books they used as furniture because the furniture was all covered with books. Hermann’s chalkboards with the ladder he insisted on climbing, despite the pain it caused him, and despite the fact that Newt always offered to give him a piggyback ride instead. The Milking Machine, which Newt referenced by name as often as possible just to see Hermann’s wince. 

“We really made this Shatterdome a Shatterhome.”

Newt felt something like pain through his ghost drift with Hermann. He was about to protest that his joke wasn’t that bad, when he realized that it was everything Hermann had just been trying to hide. 

Hermann had Kept Calm and Carried On for over a decade of war, during which Newt had only seen him cry once, and that was when he had to use the eyewash station after a possible kaiju blue contamination. Even so, he’d seemed embarrassed. Now there were tears dripping down his ridiculous cheekbones and he wasn’t even wiping them away. 

Newt wiped a few of them away before he realized that was probably weird. He’d sort of forgotten they weren’t his for a second. His hand hovered in midair between them, movement aborted but not yet redirected.

“Yes,” said Hermann, taking hold of Newt’s hand and enclosing it between both his own. “I suppose we did.”

[neoliberalbrainrot]

Fuck, I'm not traumatized enough for this

Means-testing is a quintessentially liberal idea. Instead of presenting a program or benefit (eg: student debt relief) as a human right available to everyone, liberal politicians often make sure it’s means-tested, restricting the benefit to only those who fit certain criteria. These criteria are usually numerical, reflecting the neoliberal obsession with quantification and collection of data. This doesn’t help people who fluctuate above and below the threshold, and it hurts people who do qualify when they aren’t able to get through the bureaucracy in order to claim their benefit.

What does this have to do with trauma?

The means-testing of trauma and oppression is sometimes seen as a useful method of determining someone’s moral superiority in leftist spaces which, I think, are corroded by neoliberal brainrot. The thing being gatekept can vary widely; it might be a community of some kind or something more specific like a publishing opportunity. The basic idea is that you must be this oppressed to enter. Someone’s perceived identity is used as a way of determining how much trauma they have purely from demographic information, remarkably similarly to real means-tested programs, and has nothing to do with the person’s actual life experience.

Because means-testing implies a kind of quantification, if only between more or less, a hierarchy of suffering can be constructed and further used as an indicator of moral purity. The most oppressed person in a group might be seen as morally correct more often, as if there is a neat spectrum of moral correctness. In addition, this person, despite being considered morally correct, might not actually benefit from this perception if they are marginalized and face marginalization from the same people putting them on a pedestal.

This is similar to the phenomenon colloquially called the Oppression Olympics, a competition to see who is more oppressed. The pejorative name is used by those who think it is a pointless exercise that detracts from making meaningful change. In the vast majority of cases, it is, and the discussion only serves to boost the ego of the winner of the competition and cement their status within the community.

Sometimes there is even a chasm between the material status of the person who “won” the Oppression Olympics and the person who is, when measured through more objective metrics, actually the most oppressed. This is a potential avenue for elite capture; someone who is able to communicate their experience using the potent buzzwords of the scene or who otherwise has more social capital may be able to capture the clout that comes with being recognized as the most oppressed.

The competitive nature of this exercise plays into neoliberal subjectivity, with its focus on being the best, or in this case, the most oppressed. Oppression is a competition—like the Olympics. This implies there’s something to be gained. And if there’s something to be gained, is there also an incentive to lean into any experiences of oppression you can claim? I’ve observed this behavior in people, but calling them out on it is an extremely risky and usually futile proposition.

There is actually no need to determine who is the most oppressed in the vast majority of situations, so engaging in this debate takes valuable time away from doing literally anything else. It also strongly implies that vulnerability is mandatory, that you must share your experiences of marginalization in order to be seen as moral enough for the cause. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has had icky feelings when presented with an obligation to list off all the identities I can claim, as if they’re synonymous with the problems in my life.

Of course, there are many situations where it is appropriate to means-test access to a resource; for example, if there is a limited about of funding to distribute to people with the greatest need. In writing this post, I’m mainly thinking of social dynamics in activist groups and even in social groups that just happen to be left-leaning. This is trend among modern leftist “culture,” if culture can be defined as behavioral and belief patterns in a group of people.

Whatever the case, I still think it’s important to examine the idea that means-testing and hierarchies of oppression emerge as viable concepts only because neoliberal ideology is the water many Americans swim in. It might just seem natural to place a more oppressed person (whatever this actually means) higher in the hierarchy, but why? Whether or not it’s the right thing to do, why does it seem natural? Is the hierarchy important to understanding the situation, or is it being emphasized because someone stands to gain something from its enforcement? Is it being built only because the people involved are used to thinking that way? Does it create problems where there weren’t any before?

PS: if you find my writing interesting or educational, please reblog! like artists, writers depend on reblogs to make sure new audiences see their work. thanks for reading!

[heicodynamics]

Benefits of Cement Testing in Construction

Cement testing stands as an indispensable process in construction, offering a myriad of benefits that ultimately ensure the structural integrity and longevity of buildings and infrastructure.

1. Quality Assurance

One of the primary advantages of cement testing lies in its ability to guarantee quality. Rigorous testing procedures assess the chemical, physical, and mechanical properties of cement. This meticulous examination ensures that only high-quality and suitable materials are utilized in construction projects, minimizing the risk of structural flaws or failures due to substandard cement.

2. Optimal Durability

Another significant benefit is the enhancement of durability. Cement testing evaluates crucial attributes like compressive strength, setting time, and fineness. These tests determine the cement's ability to withstand various environmental conditions and loads over time. By ensuring the durability of cement, testing contributes significantly to the longevity and resilience of constructed structures.

3. Safety Assurance

Safety remains a paramount concern in construction. Cement testing plays a pivotal role in ensuring the safety of structures by identifying any potential hazards or weaknesses. Testing procedures scrutinize the cement's composition and properties, ensuring compliance with safety standards and minimizing the risk of structural compromises that could endanger occupants or workers.

4. Cost-Efficiency

Implementing cement testing protocols proves to be cost-efficient in the long run. By using tested and verified cement, construction professionals mitigate the likelihood of structural failures, reducing the need for expensive repairs or reconstructions. Investing in quality-assured cement through testing processes minimizes unforeseen expenses and ensures a more sustainable construction process.

5. Regulatory Compliance

Adherence to industry standards and regulations is vital in construction. Cement testing ensures compliance with established norms, codes, and quality benchmarks. This adherence not only upholds credibility but also fosters trust among stakeholders, including regulatory bodies, investors, and end-users.

Also Read:- Importance Of Cement Testing in Construction

In essence, the benefits of cement testing in construction are far-reaching and integral to the entire building process. From guaranteeing quality and durability to ensuring safety, cost-efficiency, and regulatory compliance, the rigorous examination of cement plays a pivotal role in constructing structures that stand the test of time. Embracing and implementing robust cement testing practices is crucial for a safer, more reliable, and sustainable construction industry.

[applestorms]

FUCK IT. DEATH NOTE CLASSPECTING. GO:

LIGHT: prince of light. both class and aspect are non-negotiable here. moon-wise i’m actually inclined to assign him derse, if only cause of the whole “accessing the powers of dark gods” thing (guess that makes ryuk a horrorterror? hmm), though prospit would probably fit better personality-wise.

L: prince of void. i’m quite confident in the aspect for this one, though the class is a little more iffy. having them both be princes feels oddly fitting though so let’s run with it. moon-wise i’d actually like to give him prospit, mostly just to be complementary to light, but also cuz it’s funny to imagine him cloud-watching in the piss pjs.

MISA: page of doom. i’m quite proud of this assignment actually, i think it fits quite well w/ her whole thing in canon about being loved by death (though here the terminology would be more like “served by doom”). prospit dreamer for sure probably maybe, to be honest i have no fucking idea how dream moon assignment works? fuck it, i’m giving up on that from here onward.

MATSUDA: knight of hope. again, less certain on class, but i think it’s very sweet if he’s a hope player <33 esp since his Belief in light lasts (almost) the whole series…

MELLO: thief of light. making him & light both light players is fucking hilarious to me so we’re rolling with that. also assigning him thief is making me think of vriska parallels now which is vaguely horrifying to consider but he did kidnap sayu and kiyomi so let’s move on quickly now.

NEAR: heir of void. take a wild guess who he’s inheriting that void from, fellas. this one kind of breaks my heart to think about, which i think is a good sign that it fits well. not much else to say, i’ve had this one pretty cemented since one of my earlier astronaut rambles on near, so…

MATT: knight of breath. as we all know, this bitch only shows up for like 2 seconds so there’s probably a lot of room to consider other options here. i just kinda like how this reflects his role in helping mello + being a pretty chill, laid back dude most times we see him, but i’m certainly open to other takes for this one in particular.

NAOMI: sylph of mind. this is incredibly vibes-based. she’s got that interesting mix of brutality paired with loving motherhood-esque associations that feels very sylphy/kanaya to me, plus an analytical approach that feels fitting of a mind player.

BEYOND: heir of heart. there’s a lot of aspects that could fit beyond, honestly— blood, rage, doom, and time are all other considerations that could easily work as well. i just like heart for how he mimics L, and heir makes an interesting connection between him and near, though i considered mage too. also heart to match naomi’s mind etc. etc. (you may notice i’m quite partial to good connections/pairings like that, even if it doesn’t fit the individual perfectly— classpecting is just as much a social thing as a personality test, in my mind. but i digress.)

KIYOMI: maid of life. i haven’t essay posted about kiyomi much but this one seems kinda fitting, though she perhaps interprets this title in a slightly different way than jane. someone go angst about kiyomi a little more so i can get a clearer read on her. life is also to match misa’s doom, as well as…

MIKAMI: knight of doom. i’m kinda hesitant to have two doom players on this list since they’re supposedly somewhat rare, but really, what else would fit for mikami? serving light his doom is basically his most notable action in the story, ultimately. guess it makes sense that DN would have a lot of doom about it, or at least it seems more like a doom series than, like, a rage series. in my humble correct opinion.

SOICHIRO: knight of blood. one final one where i’m more confident in the aspect than the class, but i think this one ultimately works— albeit in a very different way from karkat, ofc ahhakdjf. he serves his family, he works for the benefit of People. the tired dedication of blood just feels very soichiro all around.

[sehtoast]

I saw the words “failed relationships” when I was starting chapter 2 of tender threads and immediately came here to ask if Ben has a MJ-equivalent? Mostly bc I’m thinking jealous homelander would be so funny (and terrifying for anyone on the opposite end of that lol)

Oddly enough, I think of Homelander as Ben’s MJ.  

There was a ficlet where I sort of established that Ben has an ex partner or two but really never went too far in depth with it beyond using it as a way to touch on the boundary violations a lot of trans folks experience from inconsiderate partners.  When I wrote the line about failed relationships in Tender Threads, I was initially imagining it as Ben, probably ages 18~early twenties, trying really hard to put himself out there and find a partner but ultimately failing because of him bailing on them to do the right thing and help people.  And, because he clings very tightly to keeping the streams of his personal life and hero life from crossing, he was never quite honest with them and it cost him his relationships.  Dating as a trans person is difficult as is, so I imagine dating while trans and secretly a superhero is an olympic sport that Ben just couldn’t keep up with and lost.

But yeah, I definitely think of Homie as Ben’s MJ.  Here’s someone who isn’t a good person, who kills indiscriminately, who views humans as lesser, altruism as pointless, and is just all around not great that simultaneously pulled Ben out of the pain of his dual life, makes being a supe fun and not merely an amalgamation of responsibilities and obligations, grows to not just fixate but actually have love for Ben, makes Ben bold, and doesn’t particularly care if Ben is trans– which, believe me, can be quite the rarity.  From the start, Homelander sees through the barrier of the mask.  Ben isn’t just Ben, and he isn’t just Spidey when he’s with Homie.  He’s both.  There’s no need for his identities to clash, and there’s an odd peace in that, I think.  And even though Homelander tests him in a lot of ways because Ben's moral compass points very much in the opposite direction, he unveils a world of different freedoms to Ben.

On the other hand, Ben is (and I say it this way since we barely know anything about his relationship with Maeve) Homelander’s first genuine partner.  There’s no ulterior motives.  He’s not baiting Homelander with love in return for good behavior or career advancement/stability, and he’s certainly not doing it a la Stormfront who had been using him to establish a supe’d up n*zi world.  And, while I know everyone has different interpretations on Firecracker and her motives (and I’m running along with my interpretations here), Ben’s not baiting Homelander with something he’s very vulnerable with to cement his place on the team and protect himself from others.  It’s not PR, it’s not friends with benefits, and it’s not nothing.

Ben shows him that vulnerability is okay, opening his heart is okay, and that they can grow together. That Homie's boundaries can, should, and will be respected even if he doesn’t quite know where they are yet himself– they’ll find them together.  Homelander gets to know what it’s like to be treated with love, dignity, and humanity as a foundation, not a reward that can be deprived at any moment.  And yeah, Homelander is shallow, he’s impulsive, murderous, and all around kind of awful, but here’s someone who wants to dig deeper than that. Here's someone who holds him when he's covered in blood, when he wakes from nightmares. When the world is too much, Ben holds it on his own back to give him a break. And when the world takes all that Homelander has ever known (in my lil depowered series), Ben helps him build something new.

I think they fill the voids in each other, no innuendo intended, and become each other’s wings just as much as each other’s rocks.  Sorry this got long winded lol, but yeah.  I think Homelander is Ben’s MJ.

[rohanabb]

FIRST IMPRESSIONS. or, rohan reaction compilation

52 PICKUP.

Genial. Unassuming. Warm. The kind of professor, colleague, cohort-mate, or, god, even TA Rohan would've chewed up his own nails to have just about anywhere in his own academic career. It's exceptionally easy to take them at face value. He sits further back into his chair – slouches into it, really, if we must be technical about these things — and circles a foot around Seth's ankle beside him. Leans in, drops his voice low just for him. "Containment. Your guy."

DYING BREED.

Rohan fought the urge to shrivel under Dying Breed's tracking gaze. Head shot, photographer be damned. He hadn't offered a name beyond the call sign, Rohan realized belatedly with the door swinging shut behind him. All the better for it, maybe, though Rohan wasn't about to find any excuses to ask for one. He endures a beat of the following silence before its altogether too much and leans in to Seth. "Even more intense."

ELEVATOR MUSIC.

Rohan firmly ignores the way his stomach turns around the shape of his breakfast sitting stone-heavy — protein bar in the Seth style, Kirkland's worst — on the mention of all things gun wounds and head shots. And gun shots. And head wounds. Passing his hand over his mouth, he throws Seth's way, "so many wonderful things to look forward to." And, when he's sure no one else hears it, finishes with, "maybe even a free haircut to complement the new scars."

HIGH FIDELITY.

Rohan's heart is hammering in his chest and his voice drops to just above a rasp in compensation. That's not — there's no — He doesn't take his eyes off Dr. Wilson. Steve. He only shoots back with a particularly sharp kick to Seth's ankle. "Oh, fuck off. You can't even name a single one of his papers." He doesn't catch the far edge of Seth's meaning until a beat after, but by then surely no one is looking at Rohan and the flush creeping high in his cheeks.

LIVE WIRE.

Someone else lacking in love for their assigned call sign. Thank god. Though, judging by the ... everything about her, Atalanta's reasons diverge significantly from Rohan's. Twenty years, Jesus. Rohan bites at a gnarled cuticle of his thumb and makes a note to, in fact, not need her to the best of his ability. It's only polite. For only Seth's benefit beside him, Rohan drops under his breath a short and low, almost coughed out, "intense."

NO.2 PENCIL.

Some ghosts don't know they're ghosts. Others, maybe, are the only ones who really know what they are; what's happened to them. If this is the thought Rohan holds in his mind as his gaze slides over Michelle, thin and short-lived, he can't parse it. He says nothing.

OLD SPORT.

Rohan is — unsettled, to say the least. It feels unfair to say aloud, so he'll simply think it: Old Sport's introduction does not pass the Turing test. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. There's an imposter among us. It's almost funny, but not nearly as knife-sharp and arrow-accurate as whatever Seth's about to tell him. Rohan can see him leaning in, and — "Stupid," he mutters with a barely held smile behind his worried-raw cuticle.

PERFECT STRANGER.

Rohan hides an almost-snicker and a not-quite-smirk behind a mostly-bitten cuticle. God damn. Okay. He can fuck with Terry, or at least the energy Terry is bringing to this block of cement, if Terry chooses not to fuck with Rohan back. Which. Understandable, to be entirely honest. For Seth's ears only, Rohan, voice light with laughter he's largely swallowed, drops a low, "I think I'm in love with them."

QUOTE UNQUOTE.

Hitting a little too close to home there, and Loch doesn't even know it. Rohan, for his part, sits down on any untoward reaction until at most he can be described as shuffling in his seat, raising an eyebrow, and suffering from a minor elevation in blood pressure. To Seth beside him, a mumbled, "can't believe we lost the cannibalistic pet gambit already."

URBAN MYTH.

Oh she's charming. Delightful, even, and disarmingly so. Rohan's smile thrown Bailey's way is outside of himself; that is to say, natural and genuine and unforced in its entirety. He's sitting back in his seat, not leaning forward, and god if this isn't some energy he can ride the wavelength of. To Seth beside him, smile hiding behind a bitten cuticle, he whispers, "oh I like her."

[theclairvoyage]

Chapter 3: Flor de Caña

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x AUSA!f!reader

Fresh off acing his marksmanship test, Javi returns to The Dark Horseman, where he gets to know an alluring attorney.

Chapter warnings: alcohol consumption, smoking, firearm use, adult language, mentions of violence, mentions of human trafficking, mentions of drugs, mentions of graphic violence, mentions of substance abuse and death, allusions to smut, crime scene investigation, murder, reader is able-bodied, has long hair and is roughly the same height as Javi, Spanish usage (translations at the end)

WC: 4k

Fall 1992

Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

Javier shoves his Glock 19 in his waistband, sweat droplets rolling from his forehead and audibly landing on the cold cement floor of the outdoor shooting range at the Federal Building.  Penn stands behind him, stopwatch looped around his wrist, clipboard clutched to his chest, occasionally pulling it in front of him to jot down scores.

“Alright, Peña—last stage,” he barks, “2 shots standing and 3 kneeling, all behind cover and all from 25 yards.  You’ll do that twice.  Questions?”

Javi spits as he shakes his head, some stray dirt, bugs, and sweat having accumulated in his mouth during the first 7 stages.  He wipes his brow one last time, loads the Glock, and gets ready for Penn to give him the go-ahead.

“And… go!” Penn yells.  Javi goes into action mode, standing behind the wall prop and peeking out to shoot the target.  Bang.  Bang.

He drops to his knee and aims, firing three more times.  Bang.  Bang.  Bang.  Rinse and repeat.

He stands, signaling that he’s done.  Penn clicks the stopwatch and tallies Javier’s score on the clipboard.  He whistles.

“Congrats, Peña—you passed, and with an instructor certification score of 56/60.  You’ll be able to teach this stuff once you’re fully certified as a special agent,” Penn says, clapping Javi on the back.  Javi snorts.

“Thanks, Penn.  Shooting in the jungle makes everything else seem so easy,” he murmurs.  Penn guffaws.

“Now we can finally set up this stakeout in Lawton,” he says, cheesy grin plastered on his wrinkled face.  Javier is elated—he had been looking forward to being out in the field again and partaking in the action.  Stakeouts were his bread and butter—he spent countless hours posted up in an unmarked vehicle or building surveilling and directing moves in Colombia.  It felt good to finally be able to put his skills to use.

“What’s the preliminary plan?  And site?” Javier asks, unloading the chamber of his warm gun.

“There’s an International Festival next week that spans 3 days.  It’ll be packed.  People from all over Oklahoma and the country attend.  Our surveillance team has gotten confirmation that the Locos will be there, most likely looking for falcons and setting up transactions,” Penn says.  Javier nods.

“So, are we planning on posing as employees?  Police?” Javi guesses as Penn leads them back into the building.

“Specifics are still in the works, though I like your thinking.  We’ll work with OKCPD and LPD to figure out the best plan,” Penn says, impressed.  Javi fights the urge to roll his eyes—he might’ve been an FBI rookie, but he’d had years of experience as a federal agent under his belt.  He decides to give Penn the benefit of the doubt—the man is corny, but he’s at least giving feedback.

“US Attorney’s Office gonna be assisting?” Javi asks nonchalantly, already knowing Penn will have something curt to say.  Sure enough, Penn winks at Javi.

“Miss her already, eh?” Javi rolls his eyes so hard it hurts.  Penn chuckles.  “Just givin’ ya shit.  Yes, the Assistant US Attorney will be helping.  Might even be part of the surveillance team.”

Javi’s eyes widen.  “S’not a good idea for her to be in plainclothes.  People probably know who she is and that might set off some alarms,” he reminds Penn.

“You are correct,” Penn agrees, “But she doesn’t usually go out in plainclothes.  She’ll be watching and listening elsewhere.”

Quietly, Javi breathes a sigh of relief.  He’s already protective of you—something new for him.  Penn, like clockwork, interrupts his thoughts.

“Peña—you’ve got one test left before you’ll be a fully certified Special Agent.  Your Supervisory Special Agent training will take place after that,” he beams, clapping a hand on Javi’s shoulder.  Javi shakes his head, smirking.

“I’ve had some practice, Penn—should’ve been certified sooner,” he bemoans.  He’s always been tough on himself, reflective of how he was raised.  Penn scoffs.

“You’re doing great.  We really are lucky to have you—the DEA screwed up real bad,” he chuckles.  Javi snorts.

“Take the rest of the day—we’ll figure out a plan with the Assistant Director, US Attorney’s Office, and the PD Teams soon.  Nice work.”  Javi gives Penn a single nod before leaving for the day.

Javi awakens in the hours post dinnertime that evening.

“Fuck,” he groans.  He doesn’t nap for this reason.  He glances at his watch, digging into his wrist from his slumber.  It’s not too late, but late enough for a drink.

He’d lied down when he got back from work, exhausted from the marksmanship test, and relished the comfort of his new sectional.  His apartment was finally starting to resemble a residence, and not a bachelor pad.  Unfortunately for him, though, the couch might’ve been a little too comfortable.  It was a stark contrast from his stone slab of a mattress.

Throwing on some jeans and a loose button-up linen shirt, he makes the trek to the Horseman.  The creaky door opens the same way it always does, and the jukebox is playing the same slow song, but there’s something different—you.

You’re perched in the same chair you were last time he saw you here, though you’re wearing shorts and a baggy tee.  He glances at your long, smooth legs and swallows hard—he’s starting to think that perhaps every part of you is perfect.  You turn and watch him saunter over to the bar, smirking.  Javi can’t help the smirk that follows on his own face.

He pulls back the chair next to you and gestures.  “Is this seat taken?” he says, voice still raspy from his nap.  You notice, cocking an eyebrow at him, smirk still contouring your cheeks.

“It is now,” you reply smoothly.  Javi’s stomach does some somersaults as he pulls up next to you, realizing this is the first time you two have been in such proximity.  He takes a deep breath as the bartender pours him his usual, taking your scent with him.  He fights the urge to groan.

“You look tired,” you say, eyeing him as he takes the first sip of his whiskey.  His hair is slightly mussed, button up shirt undone at the top, revealing a strong, tanned chest.  His sleeves are short, too, showing off ropy forearms.  Your thighs contract instinctively.

“Made the mistake of taking a nap,” he replies, smoothing a hand through his hair.  It’s like he heard your thoughts.

“Another rookie mistake,” you quip, bringing your glass to your lips.  He bursts out laughing, uncovering a brilliant smile that you had failed to notice.

“You’re funny, Lawyer Lady,” he says, staring at you as you take a sip.  His gaze spans your face, making frequent stops at your lips and eyes.  He’s not even trying to hide his attraction, now.  You giggle and shake your head, not meeting his eyes—you can feel them pierce your skin.

“Seems like you got it all.  Brains, looks, charm.  Must be nice,” he says, nudging your side lightly with his elbow.

“I should charge just for my presence, yeah?” you joke, pulling another belly laugh from him.

“Well, if law doesn’t work out, you have a few options,” he replies.  It’s his turn to take a sip now, and you watch as his lips groove over the rim of the glass, mustache hairs swaying from the air escaping his nostrils as he tips back.  That fucking mustache did things to you, made you squirm inside.  You wanted to feel it scratch the skin on your lips, your—

“Why do I feel like you’re hitting on me, Javi?” you croon, a lame attempt to silence your dirty thoughts.  He stiffens, nerves alight—usually, he’s on point with the charm when it comes to women.  You, though?  Different ballgame.  You sniffed him out from the jump.  He figures up a witty remark before the awkward silence settles.

“What, no one’s ever told you that you’re smart and beautiful?  I’m the first?” You’re caught off guard by his humor, and another loud laugh escapes your lips.  You roll your eyes and shake your head.

“You’re not too bad yourself, Peña,” you say, finishing your drink with a quick swig.  He shivers at your compliment.  The bartender comes over and raises his brows at you, silently asking if you’d like another.

“Yeah, I’m good for more.  Late start tomorrow,” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

Pulse thrumming, Javi leans back in the chair as he thinks of something to say.  He wants to know you but doesn’t want to push too fast.

“You live close to here?  Or you just took to this particular hole in the wall?” Javi asks, spinning the chair to face you.  You watch the bartender pour you another glass before doing the same, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back.  He tries not to glance down at your legs.

“Both,” you reply, taking a sip.  Javi nods.  His gaze is hot on your face.  He’s entranced by your eyes, but damn, his are just as magnetizing.  He realizes he still doesn’t know the mysterious brown liquid you’re drinking.

“Whiskey drinker?  You are from the Midwest,” he asks, reaching for a toothpick from the bar station.  He maneuvers it around his mouth, tip rustling the bristles of his mustache, drawing your eyes there.  He turns to look at you again, and you tear your gaze from his lips.

“Hell no.  Rum.  My dad was the whiskey drinker.  Couldn’t put that bottle down,” you say, voice dropping in volume slightly.  Javier assumes he’s dead, by your change in tone and expression.

“Sorry to hear that.  My dad loved the bottle, too,” he says, tilting his head at you involuntarily.  You lock eyes with him for a moment, and he sees pain.  Pain that you’ve gotten adept at stuffing behind the many boxes within your brain.  Your lips pull into a smile, but your eyes don’t change.

“It’s a hard thing to quit,” you say, nodding slowly and looking away from Javi.  He can tell this is a sore spot for you—your demeanor has morphed from playful to solemn, though you still seem happy.  Instinctively, he reaches out and touches your forearm, sending shocks up to your shoulder.

“I know exactly what you mean, hermosa,” he says, not fighting the compulsion this time.  You are beautiful, after all.  He removes his hand after a beat, the warmth from his fingertips lingering on your skin.  You crack a big smile, and your eyes finally match.

“Anyway.  I see you discovered that I’m not married,” you say, lips twitching into a smirk.  Redness blooms on his neck and ears as he recalls looking at your left hand in the conference room the other day.

“Sorry—instinct,” he says, half-truthfully.

“Yeah?  Been with a lot of married women?” you poke.  He loves how playful you are, sparring with him like one of the boys.  There’s a childlike curiosity to you that fascinates him.  He chuckles, turning away to take a sip.

“I won’t lie to you, I have,” he says matter-of-factly.  “Not my finest moment.”  Now, it’s your turn to put a hand on his forearm.  He freezes at your touch.

“It’s okay—I was partly joking.  Not judging you,” you say.  He turns to look at you, deep amber eyes smoldering.  It catches you off guard and scares you—he could make you do anything if he looks at you like that.  Your heart threatens to escape your ribcage.  You swallow, tucking the nerves away, and speak again.

“I did some reading up on you, Javi.  You’re highly regarded in the DEA world,” you say, removing your hand from his arm and propping your head on your hand as you study him.  He shrugs, lips moving to one side of his face.

“It was a hard gig, chasing Escobar.  I’m glad I’m here, though,” he says, staring in your eyes.  It’s quiet for a moment, except the sparks flying between the two of you, hot and molten.

“Me, too.  We’re lucky to have you,” you say, finally breaking eye contact to take another sip.  His eyes travel down to your crossed legs, to your worn sandals, back up to your face.  He can’t get over how gorgeous you are—and he’s never had to hold back with a woman like this.  Taking a deep breath and another sip of whiskey, he studies at the bottles behind the bar momentarily.

“So—you drinking Captain?” he asks, head bobbing as he searches for all the rum bottles on display.

“I honestly don’t know—I think tonight is Flor de Caña,” you say in perfect Spanish.  Javi’s not surprised but impressed.

“¿Hablas español, hermosa?” Javi tests you, eyes crinkling from the big smile he’s sporting.

“Sí, empecé a aprender cuando era joven,” you reply, not missing a beat.  He shakes his head as he turns away, still grinning.

He was fucked.

“You try a new one every night, then?” he asks.  You nod.

“Yeah, if I can.  Makes things interesting,” you reply, swishing the brown liquid around the glass as you try to count off how many bottles you’ve tried behind the bar.  You’re not sure—this quiet tavern does a surprisingly good job of rotating liquors at a decent pace.

Feeling a whiskey-powered surge of bravado, Javi takes a risk and asks a personal question.

“So, Lawyer Lady—you ever been married before?” he asks, turning to watch your reaction.  You mirror him and cock an eyebrow, pursing your lips in amusement.

“Nope.  What about you?  I’m sure women fall over for you,” you ask, matching his courage.  Your brand of it is sexier, though, he thinks.  He snorts, a lame attempt to disguise his giddiness from yet another compliment from you.

“No, hermosa—never had the time nor the desire,” he replies.  You nod slowly, breaking eye contact and staring down at your glass.  He can’t tell if you’re surprised, bummed, or just thinking.

“Me neither.  Odds of anything lasting are too low for my liking,” you say, finishing your glass.  He chuckles.

“So, you’re a math nerd, too?” Javi teases, poking your ribs again with his elbow.  You shake your head and laugh, some loose hair falling from your shoulders to your arm.  Instinctively, Javi pulls them from your skin, the feeling of you electrifying his fingertips.  His touch burns your skin.  Your breath hitches ever so slightly, but he notices.

“Sorry, it’s j—,” he starts, before you cut him off.

“Instinct?  I figured.  It’s okay,” you tease him, punctuating the word playfully.  His fingertips rest on your forearm as he stares at you, still blazing, his gaze sweeping down to your lips.  The rum has you feeling quite brave, too, and you test the waters with a question of your own.

“And what’s behind the way you keep staring at my lips?  Instinct, too?”

Javi’s heart bangs against his chest, eyes widening briefly in surprise before he feels the blood in his limbs rush to a different appendage.  Fuck it, he thinks.  He feels good about this.

“That, or I just really wanna kiss you.” His eyebrow cocks as he half-smirks at you, leaning closer to you ever so slightly.  At this point, he’d normally be balls deep in whatever poor lass approached him at the bar, clothes piled on the floor and tongues tangled, but he wants to savor this—it’s almost foreplay, the way you two tease and tango.  He struggles to keep his erection tame in his jeans.

You giggle quietly, almost mischievously, fantasizing of you perched on your kitchen countertop, legs wrapped around Javi as he fucks you slow and hard.  You can almost hear his pants and groans in your ear, breath caressing your skin as his lips and teeth mark your neck.  You shiver.

“What’s funny, hermosa?” He asks, tantalized, similar images projecting in his head.  He needs to leave soon, before he busts out of these jeans.

“Oh, nothing at all—truly,” you say with a sly smile, taking some cash out of your purse and dropping it next to your empty glass.  You stand from the chair and stretch absentmindedly, the hem of your shirt lifting to reveal the bottom half of your navel and smooth hipbones loosely draped in denim.  Javi’s eyes immediately lock on, and he takes a deep breath, trying to stifle the growl in his chest.  He takes another sip, aggressively.

“¿De qué piensas?” he asks, still watching as your arms come back down, shirt hem slowly covering your exposed skin.  You groan as you finish releasing the tension in your back and shoulders.  Fuck, he does like every sound you make.

“About how not ready I am for this recon mission coming up,” you lie, folding those pornographic images and other feelings about Javi you’re not ready to acknowledge in the pit of your mind.

“Piece of cake.  Trust me.  Can I walk you out?” he says, fishing bills out of his wallet and standing to join you.  He despises the thought of you walking alone in the dark, even if you’re well-acquainted with the area.  You nod, smiling softly at him.

You wave at the bartender and head for the exit as Javi follows, his warm hand finding home on the small of your back as he guides and opens the door for you.  You feel safe around him, which simultaneously alarms and arouses you.

The outside air greets you, quiet gusts nipping at your skin.  You instinctively wrap your hands around your arms and rub the goosebump-ridden flesh.  Javi curls his hand around your waist and pulls you closer, hoping to share some of the warmth from his body with you.  You relax into him as you walk toward the parking lot.

An eternity seems to pass as both of you trek toward your car, quiet steps in perfect synchrony.  The streetlights paint both of you in a flickering melon-amber glow.  You feel almost ethereal in his grasp, and he, too, as he holds you so closely to him.  His grip on your waist is soft, but his arm is firm around your back, a silent promise of protection.  This is not how either of you expected your day to culminate, but it’s a welcome surprise.  Oddly enough, it doesn’t feel foreign.

Your unique scent invades his nostrils, fucking with his head—he’s so giddy and nervous from being around you, but touching and smelling you makes his dick grow harder and harder as you get closer to your car.

“This is me,” you say, nodding toward a beat-up sedan.  Javi whistles.

“This is what they got you driving?  C’mon, LL—you need something fancier,” he jokes, lightly squeezing your waist.  Rolling your eyes, you laugh and pull your keys out of your purse, facing away from him.

“It’s inconspicuous—it’s not my car, either,” you say, winking playfully at Javi.  He swallows hard.  You turn to look at him and study his face.

The earth stills for a moment as both of you ponder how to say goodbye.  Javi wasn’t kidding earlier about wanting to kiss you, needing to feel your plush lips and your body pressed against his.  You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want the same.  All you’d need to do is lean in a bit and close your eyes.  Javi’s gaze draws a triangle from your eyes to your lips, fingertips lightly digging into your side.

A loud gale interrupts your thoughts, your hair flying into your vision.  Javi, acting on instinct once again, reaches to smooth the strands from your face.  You blink at him.  His hand hooks under your jaw, thumb swiping the soft skin of your face.  Your legs tremble ever so slightly.

“I’ll see you around, hermosa,” he breathes, leaning in.  You close your eyes and expect his lips to meet yours, but they don’t—they brush your cheek in a soft, soft kiss.  It’s delicate, sweet—and irritating.  You wanted more.

“Bye, Javi,” you murmur, surprisingly frustrated.  You turn away and try to leave his grasp, but he holds you firm at the waist.

“Hey,” he says, urging your attention, “You okay?”

You blink a couple times as you stare back at him, heat pooling in your cheeks.  He sees the frustration on your face.  You’d somewhat melted in his touch and peeled back some layers, showing him more emotion than you’d preferred—now, it’s made you feel like an idiot.

“Yes, of course… why wouldn’t I be?” you breathe, realizing now that you’re panting.  Javi is, too—holding back like this is a skill he’s not practiced often.  He still has a hand on your cheek, the other on your waist.  Puppy dog eyes stare back at you, hypnotizing you into tranquility.

“I normally don’t… don’t do this kinda stuff,” Javi says, looking down at the ground briefly.

“Do what?  Meet up with somewhat strangers at weird taverns and discuss alcoholic fathers?” you quip, grinning.  There, you are.  Javi chuckles.

“Only beautiful ones,” he adds, expression softening. Your smile fades and cheeks burn at his compliment.

“Something tells me that you’re good at getting people to do what you want,” you admit, mesmerized by his gaze.

“Yeah?  Are you included in that?” he asks quietly, pensive brown eyes glued to yours.  He’s not looking at your lips, now—he wants to see you.  You laugh breathily and shrug.

“You’ll have to present solid evidence to convince me to do anything,” you tease.  He chuckles again.

“So… can I convince you to go out into the field with me in Lawton?” he postulates, raising an eyebrow at you.  Your eyes widen in disbelief.

“Absolutely not—no matter how good you are,” you say, chuckling incredulously.

Suddenly, Javi pulls you into a warm embrace, arms looped under yours and barred across your back.  You sigh heavily, wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, and sink into him once again, now taking in his scent.  Cedarwood, musk, aftershave, whiskey, and faint cigarette smoke—complex, yet telling.  A man in pain, struggling to find purpose.  Your heart sinks at the thought of him drinking his own life away.  Javi pulls away slightly after a beat and you feel his breath—and smirk—on your earlobe.

“You have no idea how good I am, hermosa,” he whispers.  You freeze momentarily and stifle a whimper at the thought of what his mouth and that mustache can do.  You unwrap from each other, and he holds your hand for a moment before kissing the back of it softly.

“Bye, Rookie,” you breathe, smiling.  A similar one cracks on his face.

“Adios, hermosa.”  You watch him turn and walk the opposite direction, hand pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

"Hey!" you call.  He turns to face you, now walking backwards toward his apartment.  He cocks his head at you and grins as he takes a drag.

“Stuff’s gonna kill you,” you scold him playfully.  He shakes his head, smiling as he pulls the cigarette from his lips and exhales a trail of smoke from the side of his mouth.

"S'not the only thing."

Javi walks home with a pep in his step.

Your scent lingers on his shirt, in his nostrils.  Sweet, spicy, alluring.

Pictures of your face plaster the walls of his mind.  Your beautiful eyes, your wit.  Your boisterous laugh.

He wants to hear all your sounds, to see all your emotions spilling out of those captivating eyes.  He wants to feel your breath quicken as he brings you to ecstasy and feel it slow as you fall asleep next to him.

And as he finally drifts off to sleep, he dreams of your skin on his, your laughter, and a field of flores.

¿Hablas español, hermosa = do you speak Spanish, beautiful?

Sí, empecé a aprender cuando era joven = Yes, I began learning when I was young.

Flor de Caña = Cane Flower

¿De qué piensas? = What are you thinking about?

Taglist: @burntheedges <3

Please message me or reply to this if you want to be added! :)

[lost-neurons]

Tips from Cal Newport's How to Win at College

Recently I finished Cal Newport's another book, How to Win at College. A fast read, the book is basically a list of tips gathered by the author to help the reader succeed easier at uni.

Some of them were quite obvious to me, some of them caught my attention more, and they are the ones you can find below. Words in italics are the exact quotations, headlines are also original from the book. The rest of it is my attempt to summarize it (although the descriptions in the book itself are very short and clear, so really, check out the book). Without further ado:

Studying

Build Study Systems

before you start to study spend few minutes so you know exactly what and how will you study, that way you will optimize your work and study more efficiently

Avoid Daily To-Do Lists

rather try time-blocking

Do Schoolwork Every Day

doesn’t matter how much you do, as long as you do something daily it will be easier staying in that zone of the smooth work flow

Find a Secret Study Space

Take the time to explore the odd corners and depths of your favorite buildings on campus, and you will certainly find a hidden jewel of a study space to call your own.

however! switch them from time to time to prevent making studying tedious and alienating

Don’t Study In Groups

you really do need to sit at your QUIET desk in the library to absorb the material

seek out someone for specific help on a specific issue, then return to your solo work

Don’t Do All of Your Reading

read chapter introductions and conclusions, skim everything else

you may miss something important, your professor won’t – listen carefully during class

pay more attention to the assignments which will be part of an exam but weren’t or won’t be covered in class 

make tick marks next to sentences that catches your attention and is faster than highlighting

Start Long Term Projects the Day They Are Assigned

finish some work the same day; 30 mins are enough, plan the whole thing, do some research, maybe write some draft

Keep a Work-Progress Journal

every nigh jot down the day’s date, the long-term work you had scheduled for the day, and the work that you actually accomplished, be brief

that will keep your mind in the game, and you will feel being hold accountable

Start Studying Two Weeks in Advance

first ~12 days– an hour or so, maybe a couple extra hours over the weekend

two days before exam  – three-hour secessions to cement that knowledge

Focus On Grades, Ignore G.P.A

bad grades happen, as long as you put in the effort nobody cares about one bad day

focus on learning for the sake of learning, not for the sake of grades !!!!

Uni life

Get Involved with Your Major Department

attend the events, guest lectures, seminars, public thesis defenses

show up once a month, become a recognized face, that will have several benefits

Learn to Listen

never be the first person to give an opinion, listen to others’ thoughts first, be sure you understand their positions, and then interject your own thoughts with careful aplomb

you don’t want to be that stuck-up person who acts like they know everything, and only they are right – listen, listen, listen!!!

Relax Before Exams

studying right up until the testing begins releases too much adrenaline, resulting in troubles with focusing

take an hour before an exam to relax so you will feel confident and calm

Ignore Your Classmates’ Grades

Worry about your performance and progress; let your classmates worry about their own.

Blow the Curve Once a Term

every semester choose one class you like, then within this class choose one interesting project, and then just absolutely kill it

Ask One Question at Every Lecture

(…) when you are doing the reading that will be covered in the lecture, jot down a quick list of questions that seem relevant. Then, once in class, follow the professor’s material carefully modifying and honing your questions as appropriate. Finally, when you feel you have a question that is meaningful, and will clarify an important point of the discussion, ask away.

Befriend a Professor

make them your mentor, they provide the letters of recommendation, informal instructions, and many other useful tools you need for academic success

visit office hours not only when you have troubles with certain topics; when working on a paper talk to them about possible topics, get feedback on the selected idea, check with them the structure of your argument, ask for clarification etc. etc. etc.

Apply to Ten Scholarships a Year

For every ten well-selected scholarships and awards you apply for, you probably have a good shot at winning at least one (…). The more scholarships you win, the better your odds on future applications.

it will accumulate and after few years your resume will be looking good when joining the job market

Lifestyle

Schedule Your Free Time

so you don’t waste it sitting and wondering what to do and turning 10-minutes jobs into 2-hours ones

either you are in one of your scheduled break periods, or are you working – no more feeling guilty or uncertain when to relax

Find an Escape

schedule an escape every single week, do it alone; can be a long hike, sitting in the coffee shop reading, anything allowing you to relax and cut off uni stuff for a few hours

Exercise Five Days a Week

keep yourself active to boost your brain, but also to take care of your muscles and joints – they were made to move!

Stay In Touch

talk to your family and friends at least once a month; literally talk, call them or meet if you can, messaging doesn’t count nor sending voice massages

Don’t Undersleep, Don’t Oversleep

find out how many hours do you need to feel rested and stick to them

avoid too few but also too many hours of sleep – The fact that you can sleep more, doesn’t mean that you should.

Laugh Every Day

Find something every single day that will make you laugh

Seek Out Fun

if you don’t actively seek out fun, it won’t actively seek out you

Reconsider reading Newport's book, or give his podcast (Deep Questions with Cal Newport) a try. He's the first person I found with such a healthy approach to productivity and work