#Superintendent (Store)

[coff33andb00ks]

vivvvv how about…

11 + 24 with lando 😊

"It's impossible to get rid of me."/"Are you awake or asleep?"

driver + number = drabble <3

maddie babe ily

warnings: disgusting perverted amount of fluff

Lando Norris is, in his own words, a little bitch.

Granted, he said those words when he was drunk and a moth flew too close to his face, but you'll never let him forget that he uttered them.

Nor will you let him forget you have video of him screaming in terror and running straight into the glass door of the balcony to get away from the moth.

It's what your friendship is based on: embarrassing moments that the other finds hilarious but no one else would understand. Like the time you spent three minutes telling a store mannequin what you were looking for, or the time Lando locked himself out of his apartment at four in the morning. He has a tendency of doing that, so much so that when it happens he shows up at your place.

Like he is now, in his joggers and slides, without his wallet or phone, smiling sheepishly at you like it isn't three a.m.

"Don't you have other friends," you grumble, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands.

"None that'll answer the door this late," he sighs.

You sigh and step back to let him in, pretending to be unaffected by the scent of him freshly showered. "How'd it happen?"

"Took out the trash and thought I had my key in my pocket." He looks entirely too comfortable in your tiny apartment, shirtless and his hair still damp.

Nodding, you shuffle to your bedroom to collect the spare key to his place. That he'd given to you so casually, like it was a normal thing for him to hand out an extra key, when you knew it wasn't because even Fewtrell didn't have a spare key back when Lando lived in England still.

"C'mon, you know I'll need it. Besides, you're the only one I trust to have it." He dropped the key - attached to a Snoopy keychain that you remember him buying in Vegas - into your purse. "There. Now it's impossible to get rid of me."

As if you'd ever want to.

He follows you into the bedroom and you're painfully aware of your unmade bed and the clothes you'd left on the floor. Which is ridiculous, because it's Lando, he's been in your bedroom before, he's seen your dirty underwear–

Just not at three in the morning...

"Fuck," you mutter, turning your purse upside down to empty it onto the dresser. The essentials of your life spill out, lip gloss and gum and wallet and keys - but not Lando's because that one stays on its Snoopy keychain it's special - and hand sanitizer and notepad and six pens and tissues and the ticket stub from the movie he took you to see two weeks ago and a friendship bracelet and two pads. Everything but his key.

"Don't tell me you've lost it," he says.

You scoff at the idea. You may have lost your mind, your sanity, and sometimes your wallet, but you'd never lose his key. Your sleepy mind scrambles. Two weeks ago you pulled it to give to him and–

"Oh shit it's at my place," he mumbles, clapping a hand over his face.

"Lando!" you groan, sweeping everything back into your purse.

He's sorry, you're annoyed, and after bickering uselessly you tell him to just go to bed, he can get his superintendent to let him in in the morning.

It's not unusual to share a bed with him. Lando's a clingy, touchy feely person, half the time you travel with him he ends up taking you into staying in his room. Ostensibly because he likes to talk but really because he wants to cuddle.

"You awake?" he whispers in the darkness. "Or asleep?"

You don't answer, because you know he's about to say something profoundly sweet or incredibly stupid.

He presses his face into your hair and sighs, much like an exhausted dog finally settling down for a good sleep. "I do it on purpose sometimes," he whispers. "Cuz I sleep better with you than when I'm alone."

As confessions go it's probably your favorite. But you have to pretend you don't hear it. You're smiling though, and you let out a sleepy little hum. And you feel him smile.

[scentofhydrangea]

for @vershautece, based off of this and a little of this 🩷 enjoy!

warnings luigi is a baby making machine! sahm themes, let’s just assume he never had back problems shhh, all italian is translated at the bottom, breeding, oral (both receiving), missionary + doggy, orgasm denial (?), rough sex, ass slapping (i don’t like the other word), reflection ;), half-assed proofread

a/n i am actually so sorry this is so late, i’ve been stacked today and then i scheduled this to post and it never did… ALSO THIS IS WAY LONGER THAN I ORIGINALLY INTENDED!!! and i’m sorry the smut is kinda vague i haven’t written actual smut in SOOOO long it’s embarrassing… i’m gonna be a hornball on your dash!

getting accepted to upenn was definitely in your top three most exhilarating moments of your life. with plans of majoring in art, you were over the moon to start your independent life at an ivy league school! you rarely let boys get in your way — enjoying life in the moment was a top quality of yours as an artist.

that was, until you met luigi. oh god, he’s so beautiful. you only picked up one digital class that you really didn’t even know the name of because you’d wanted to get into digital art and you thought it’d be fun to learn the functions. as soon as you saw him about two weeks into the course, you were swooning. unbeknownst to you, most other girls were also swooning.

you only had a few tight friends, but your kind personality was a trait everyone noticed about you as soon as you would approach. also how good you smelled. and your beautiful smile. and your full, happy cheeks when you laugh. really just everything — and you’d had no idea that boys in your courses would pine after you, too.

a few trusty years later, you and luigi were to be wed! babies came shortly after, and you had the most beautiful twin toddlers. after you’d been granted maternity leave from your job as a high school art teacher, you’d gotten a little too used to staying home and tending to the house, rather than scrambling every weekend to get everything done as well as take care of your husband and children.

you had a talk with luigi and determined that the money from his job would be enough to keep the family steady going as well as a few pieces you’d make and sell on ebay every now and again. almost as quickly as you could, you sent an email to the superintendent and principal of your school saying that you would unfortunately not be returning due to personal issues.

luigi had never asked you to be a sweet little tradwife for him, but he damn sure enjoyed it. today in particular, your three year olds’ daycare was closed so you were fortunate enough to leave them with their godparents. this was good for you, they’d likely ask to spend the night with their padrini*, so you can have tonight and tomorrow morning without a ‘bedtime’ for you and your children!

in the morning after dropping them off, you went back home to get cute and dolled up — you usually made breakfast wearing a silk pajama set that luigi bought for you last christmas. then you went to the grocery store and to the bank to deposit a check from a painting you sold for a little under $500. then back home to make a small lunch — you were planning to cook a big dinner — and then onto housework. you played music while you worked, and once beds were made you retreated back to your bedroom to tweak your hair and makeup for dinner.

you also made sure luigi knew not to come home before 5:45 because you wouldn’t be done with your dishes, and checked in on your kids to confirm they’d stay the night at their padrini’s house.

when luigi came home, just like out of a scene of a movie, he shouted from the front door: “tesoro, sono a casa!*” followed by the door closing and locking mechanically behind him. he strutted into the kitchen to see you putting plates together — exactly 6:00. he must have waited in the driveway to give you some extra time!

with a gentle hold of your waist and long kiss on your cheek, you suddenly felt much more comfortable; almost feeling safe that he was home. anxiety was sometimes a struggle when you’re home alone all day and your husband working half an hour away.

as you plated the food and brought the bread out of the oven, luigi went upstairs to change into something more casual. when he opened the bedroom door, he noticed you had left a precious little lingerie set laying on the bed, likely accidentally. his interest was certainly piqued! quirking an eyebrow and grinning a little to himself, he took a few minutes to change and mess with his hair a bit in the mirror.

luigi came down the stairs with happy haste.

“thank you for making this meal, babydoll, smells so good,” he compliments, kissing your cheek again.

your face burns excitedly. “thank you,” you kiss his lips a few short times.

over dinner, you chat about each other’s day and the children. he seems to be deep in thought for a moment, and when he notices you staring he speaks again.

“you think we should have another baby?” he asks cheekily.

you nearly choke and your heart rate runs rampant, looking as if you hadn’t had sex before. “do you want to?”

“would i ask if i didn’t want to?”

there’s a rush between your thighs almost immediately. you place your fork down onto your plate and stand up, but before you can walk off he’s up and scooping you into his strong arms. he cascades up the steps with you bridal style.

as soon as he steps into the bedroom, he places you down on the fuzzy chair in front of your vanity. a finger points to the lacy set laying on the neat bed.

“you wanna tell me what you got this out for?” he presses, kneeling down on the ground in front of you. luigi’s pretty lips pepper kisses on your ankles, lifting each one up slowly to remove your kitten heels. once each shoe is off, he places the now bare calf on his shoulder.

“please, lu…” you plead pathetically.

his eyebrows furrow upwards, looking at you with big eyes full of faux empathy. “please what? use your words, mio amore. dimmi cosa vuoi*.”

words are quick to fail you. your brain is blank, almost static. most times you have sex it’s quick and hushed because the twins are in the house.

he’s kissing up your legs again, attempting to get a rise out of you. once he gets to your thighs, you’re getting a little restless.

“taking too long,” you mumble, and he lifts his head to look you in the eye again — this time much more stern.

“what was that?”

“said you’re taking too long,” you repeat yourself louder, locking your gaze with his.

within a second, he’s snatched you up and thrown you onto the neat bed.

“you and your goddamn bed decorations. i never know why you put all these pillows on here when we’re just gonna throw them all off later,” he grumbles, clearly angry and clearing the throw pillows from the bed, tossing them to the floor.

luigi pushes your maxi skirt up and nearly tears your little cotton underwear off of you. his tongue darts between your warmth and his nose harshly rubs against your clit, catching you off guard and sending your spine into electric shock. your hands fly to grip his hair in one hand and the tightly made bedsheets in the other.

“y’taste so sweet, tesoro,” he groans against you, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your thighs before going back to devouring your sex.

he’s already working an easy orgasm or two from you. he pulls you from your stupor and unzips your dress, gingerly pulling it off of you — he knows how upset you got last time he accidentally ripped the hem of your dress.

his shirt is gone, his chin and parts of his cheeks are still wet, and removing his belt as quickly as he can. as soon as his pants drop, you grab the hem of his boxers and pull them down. every time you see his cock, it never fails to surprise you that the tip touches his fucking belly button.

you pop his throbbing pink tip into your mouth, giving it little kitten licks and short kisses. you work your way down, or as much as you can, using your hand to pump what you can’t fit in your mouth. you’re moaning and slobbering around his cock, vibrations from your voice sending chills up his spine and down into his arms. his hands find their way to the back of your head, carefully urging you to take more.

your throat is constricting and you retract from his cock, looking into his eyes for validation.

“you’re taking too long,” he mocks in a faux whiny voice. luigi pushes you back onto the bed by his shoulders and holds his heavy cock. he teases your folds, rubbing his hot tip through to spread your own spit and cum from him eating you out. slowly, he pushes in. he always waits a little for you to adjust to how big he is.

“fuck, m’so full…”

“you’re so tight, mio amore.”

his eyes are boring into yours and his hands press down onto your womb to see his own cock buried into you.

“gonna cum if you don’t breathe for a second and relax, holy fuck baby,” he reminds you with a deep, raspy tone.

you take a deep breath and mid-exhale he starts to pound into you with a feverish and eager alacrity, causing you to almost scream.

“mmmmy fucking god!” your voice shakes with each impactful thrust against your hips. one of his hands grips your waist and the other attaches to your boob, his head following shortly. his tongue laps around your peaked nipple rapidly.

then both hands are on your waist and he briefly pulls out to flip you onto your stomach and prop your ass up to his liking. he’s shoving his cock back into your soaked cunt and returns back to his relentless pace.

“gonna fuck a baby into you, bella ragazza, gonna get you nice and swollen with a pretty baby, hm? isn’t that right?” he pushes his hand down onto your lower back, arching you up higher for him. both of his big hands find your frizzed up curly bun and he snatches your head back.

“feels so fucking good, m’gonna cum, lu!”

“aht,” he slows down exponentially, “you’ll cum when i tell you to.”

your eyes roll to the back of your head with adoration and you swear your ovaries start jumping at the demand. he’s back to slamming into you and a hard hand comes down onto each ass cheek three or four times. he adds to the torture by holding your hair in one hand and moving his other arm around your hip to grind his palm on your clit.

“oh my god, i’m gonna fucking cum luigi…” you breathe out between a moan, a scream and a whisper.

“what’d i tell you?”

“to wait ‘til you tell me to cum!”

“do what i tell you, be a good girl and listen to me.”

your brain is numb and your head falls limp, his grip in your hair is the only thing holding your body close to his.

“you’re so fucking pretty, mio amore, can i take a picture?”

you just nod obediently, not really caring too much at this point. he reaches over to the bedside table where he put his phone before dinner and opens the camera, showing your mascara dripping down your face from tears you didn’t know were flowing and an agape mouth, moans slipping through with every motion.

“you see why i love fucking you s’much? hm? look at yourself while i fuck you, baby,” he’s shoving the phone into your hand to palm your clit again. you’re bucking your hips against each form of stimulation with your jaw wide open, breathing shakily.

“there you go, tesoro, y’wanna cum?” he taunts, to which you nod your head and moan a hearty ‘yes!’

his index and middle finger focus on your clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves as tightly as he can. your eyes go crossed, no longer paying any attention to the reflection in the camera. luigi’s hand drops from your hair, pushes your head down and arches your back up one more time. he pressed record on the camera and kept up with his cock bullying into your cervix over and over.

“go ahead and cum with me baby, take it like the good girl you are.”

when he gives you permission, almost like a stage cue, you totally let go. your cunt squeezes around him entirely and traps him in. his cock twitches rampantly inside you as he meets his release, watching your face through the camera that you’re gripping onto with your life.

it takes a few minutes to cool off after he lays down beside you, stopping the recording and kissing all over your face. “you did so good for me, baby. sei una brava ragazza*.”

you don’t even have it in you to respond, your chest heaving.

“you think that one will take? should we go for another round?”

this gets a breathless chortle from you. “can i catch my breath first? also, you messed my hair up.”

“so that’s a yes?” he asks, already burying his face into your chest and carefully pressing kisses to your hot skin.

🌺🩷💋

italian words and phrases:

padrini: godparents

tesoro: sweetheart

sono a casa: i’m home!

dimmi cosa vuoi: tell me what you want

sei una brava ragazza: you’re (such) a good girl

[geonij31]

Hey Newsies Fandom, LETS TALK LODGING HOUSES (by someone who wrote a 13 page essay on them for a university class)

I’ve recently delved into the world of Newsies Fanfiction and I’ve been going a little crazy over some of the representation of the Lodging House so I thought I’d offer up some FACTS regarding some things I’ve seen. For this I’m going to focus on the N°9 Duane Street Lodging-House.

(If you want a basic idea without doing too much research or reading this post, just go watch the 1992 Newsies, it’s not perfectly accurate but it’s close enough.)

THE LAYOUT: the lodging house itself was 6-7 floors. The first floor was rented out to shops like some apartment buildings.

Floor 2: The second floor consisted of a large dining-room “where nearly two hundred boys can sit down at table” (Campbell et al, 1897, 122), as well as a kitchen, laundry room, store-room, servant’s room and living quarters for the lodging’s superintendent and their family.

Floor 3: The third floor contained the school-room as well as washrooms, leaving the two top floors for the dormitories.

Floor 4-5: Each dormitory was “furnished with from fifty to one hundred beds” (Campbell et al, 1897) with spring mattresses and plenty of comforters. There were also “private rooms” which were squared spaces quartered off by curtains for privacy. These beds, though more expensive, were almost ALWAYS filled.

A couple different sources mention the lodging house having a gymnasium (with a trapeze) but they can’t seem to agree exactly where the gymnasium was. My guess is it was on the 6th floor as mentioned in an article by The Journal. The attic was used as extra space for the winters when the dormitories were full.

COSTS: lodging was 6 CENTS (or 10 for a “private room”) and meals (breakfast and dinner) were the same price. Boys could have as many helpings of a mean as they wanted! Without paying extra! From what I could tell they didn’t serve lunch because the afternoon paper came out around noon and most boys just picked up something while they were out so they wouldn’t miss a prime selling time.

(Don’t forget that most papers cost 1¢ for customers so a newsie would only have to sell 6 papers to stay the night or get a meal)

AMENITIES: THEY. HAD. SHOWERS. They had access to both hot and cold water and free towels. Boys were expected to wash up after entering the lodging house. Also, as mentioned, there was a laundry room. From my understanding it was most often used to clean the sheets of the beds which were used every day, but there were also boys said to be around helping with chores, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they were also able to wash their clothes there when they wanted.

There was also a free clothes ‘closet’ with donated clothing for boys to access. It seemed most boys chose not to make use of it out of pride, but it didn’t go UNUSED. When a kid really needed stuff they would give it to them.

SCHOOLING: boys staying at the lodging house who did not receive a pass to stay out late were expected to attend the night school held there from 7:30-9. During the day the lodging house also held trades classes and other such courses for those who couldn’t attend a full day of school for whatever reason.

There’s so much more but that’s the basics of it and some of the stuff I’ve seen people get wrong (both in fanfics AND here on Tumblr) I’ve added photos from the Lodging house as well as some links of interest for those who want to go do their own research.

Campbell, H., Knox, T. W., & Byrnes, T. (1897). NEW YORK NEWSBOYS-- WHO THEY ARE, WHERE THEY COME FROM, AND HOW THEY LIVE-- THE WAIFS AND STRAYS OF A GREAT CITY. In Darkness and Daylight; or Lights and Shadows of New York Life; A Pictoral Record of Personal Experiences by Day and Night in the Great Metropolis (pp. 111–138). essay, Hartford, Conn. The Hartford Publishing Company. Retrieved November 23, 2024, from https://archive.org/details/darknessdaylight00campuoft/page/137/mode/1up.

^ Chapter IV: NEW YORK NEWSBOYS— WHO THEY ARE, WHERE THEY COME FROM, AND HOW THEY LIVE— THEY WAIFS AND STRAYS OF A GREAT CITY.

Riis, J. A. (1890). How The Other Half Lives. Charles Scribner’s Sons. November 23, 2024, https://www.gutenberg.org/files/45502/45502-h/45502-h.htm#Page_82

^Chapter XVII: The Street Arab

Riis, J. A. (1908). The Children of the Poor. Charles Scribner’s Sons. November 23, 2024, https://www.gutenberg.org/files/32609/32609-h/32609-h.htm#Page_122

^Chapter XIV: The Outcast and the Homeless

Smallest saving bank in the world. (1896, February 16). The Journal, pp. 19–19. Retrieved November 23, 2024, from https://www.loc.gov/resource/sn84031792/1896-02-16/ed-1/?q=Great+Depression&sp=19&st=image&r=-0.421,0.085,1.842,1.398,0.

[chantersboard]

Spackle

2.5K. super!Joel x f!reader. Joel is your building's hot super and he helps put in your air conditioner on a hot NYC day.

warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, no outbreak AU, unprotected piv, creampie, Joel is punny

a/n: I hate that I had to youtube how to install an air conditioner for this because I had my own super put mine in lol. I also got the plant thing from my super. he was really interested in my dragon scale when he caught me bringing it home.

EDIT: thought I should give a quick definition of a super to those that may not know. A superintendent, or more commonly known as a super, is the property manager for an apartment. They often live on-site, or if your landlord owns multiple buildings, usually in a nearby building. They deal with the structure, safety, and cleanliness of the building. If your toilet is clogged you call the super. If you locked yourself out of your apartment you call the super. Supers will also do things like shovel snow, clean shared areas, bring out the garbage for sanitation, and minor adjustments to your apartment such as patching holes and replacing damaged floorboards.

as always you can see #chantersboardwritessometimes for other stuff I've written

Spackle

With labored breath you take the final step to reach the fifth floor. Sweat beads down your face as you haul a load of groceries to your door. You place the bags down and fumble in your pocket for your keys. 

This summer in New York City has been brutal. The temperature is oppressive and the humidity is stifling. In the short walk from the grocery store to your apartment, your thin, breathable top was already sticking to your skin. You needed to cool down but there would be no reprieve, even after you entered your home. While you had purchased a brand new air conditioner, the building’s management still hadn’t answered your email about assistance getting it installed. 

Just as you push your key into the lock and twist the core, your neighbor’s door swings open. 

“Thank you again, Joel.” You hear the old woman say. 

“Of course, Mrs. Nunez,” Joel says. 

The building’s superintendent, Joel Miller, walks out of the old lady’s apartment. He’s an older man, tall with broad shoulders and toned arms. The hair on his sparse beard is sprinkled with gray, much like the thick hair that curls around his ears. He’s a little rounded about his midsection, but it doesn’t distract from how undeniably handsome he is.

“Anytime you need help again just call management.” His voice floats through the air. The southern accent that turns his words into music is out of place in this fast paced city. 

As you push open your door you turn to look at him. His short sleeve navy blue shirt is unbuttoned, revealing a clean white tank top underneath. His jeans sit nicely on his hips, the knees of them the only dirty thing about him, other than his scuffed and paint splattered boots. He juggles his tool bag between his hands and the muscles in his forearms tense and loosen. 

On more than one occasion you have wondered what those arms feel like. A grown man like him, working with his hands all day, carrying around that heavy tool bag. You imagine your hands sliding up his arms, squeezing the muscles along the way before landing on his chest that bursts through his tank. 

You swallow hard, excusing your fantasy on the maddening heat, and wave at the super. 

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Orchid,” he walks across the hall, bringing the scent of cedar with him. Joel very well knows your name but has called you Orchid since he saw you bringing home the flowered plant when you first moved in. You were so gobsmacked at the idea of him giving you a nickname that you let it stick. 

“Good afternoon, Joel,” you say, your eyes trained on his lips curled into an easy smile. Snap out of it! “I was wondering if management spoke to you about my air conditioner?”

Joel’s features twist in confusion. “I don’t think so, lemme check.” He pulls out his phone and scrolls through it for a while. “Nope. I only have a work order here for Mrs. Nunez.”

“Oh,” you say dejectedly. “I emailed them late on Thursday but I guess with Friday and then the weekend they didn’t see it.”

“What’s a’matter, Orchid?” The concern he displays makes you melt even more in the heat. 

“I normally wouldn’t bother you like this but it’s just so hot.” Joel really looks at you then, taking in the way your shirt clings to your curves then looking at the length of your legs in the littlest pair of shorts you could find. You swallow hard again. “I have the support bracket and everything but I didn’t want to put it in wrong or something. I would rather someone who knew better put it in me—for me!—put it in for me, I mean,” you stammer. 

Joel chuckles, the joy in his eyes making him even more attractive. “Well we can’t have a pretty lady like you suffer in this heat. I’ll put it in for ya.”

You sigh in relief. “Thank you so, so much Joel.” You bend to grab your groceries off the floor and notice Joel watches as you do so. The thought of him looking at your behind makes you pulse between your legs. You shuffle inside, head straight for the kitchen, and begin loading the cold things into the fridge. 

“Everything’s there in the living room,” you yell across the apartment. “I’ll be there in a bit. I don’t want these popsicles to melt. Can you put it in that first window?”

You hear Joel moving stuff about, probably pulling the AC out of its box, then you hear the window scraping open. 

“Yeah, this window’ll do just fine.”

As you continue unloading your groceries you can hear more movement, than the whirr of Joel’s power drill. Once the last item is neatly tucked away you yell out into the other room again. 

“Do you want something to drink? Water? Soda? Corona?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

You come out of the kitchen with a popsicle in hand. Joel is bent over, part of his body hanging out the window as he installs the support bracket for the air conditioner. Now it’s your turn to look at his behind. He comes back in and lowers to pick up the AC off the floor. You make no attempt to hide that you’ve been watching him. 

“What about a popsicle?” You ask, dangling the wrapped frozen treat in the air. 

“No, you go ahead and enjoy that, sweetheart,” he drawls. 

You shrug, rip open the package, and bring the red, white, and blue dessert to your lips. The cold sensation immediately washes over you. You close your eyes and welcome the relief. You push the popsicle further into your mouth and moan as the cold syrup slides down your throat. When you open your eyes again Joel is still there, squatting over the air conditioner, looking up at you. 

“That good, huh?” He asks. “Maybe I’ll have one of ‘em after I finish?”

You pull the popsicle out of your mouth with an audible pop and lick your lips. “Yeah, sure.”

The super continues his work. He lifts the heavy machine with ease and pushes it into the open window. You walk over to him and watch as he lowers the window and begins drilling screws into the frame. He opens the fins on either side of the device then screws those into place as well. The whole ordeal doesn’t take long at all with Joel's swift, knowledgeable hands. He takes the dangling power cord and pushes it into the wall socket. 

“Ready to try it?” He asks, his large index finger hovering over the power button. “Come close, now.”

You walk over to Joel and press yourself close to him so you’re both in front of the window unit. “Go ahead,” you say, pushing the popsicle back into your mouth. 

Joel pushes the button and the machine rattles on. For a brief moment it pushes out horribly hot air but then the temperature drops and it hums as it pushes out a steady stream of cool air. 

“Aww, yessss,” you mumble around the popsicle. In your happiness your mouth opens and some of the melted dessert dribbles out. 

“You’ve got—” Joel’s finger brushes up your chin, catching the sugary liquid “—popsicle on ya.”

You look up at him and see desire in his eyes. The image makes your pussy throb. Before Joel can pull his hand away you grab his wrist and wrap your lips around his sticky digit. You swirl your tongue around his thick finger then begin to suck on it. 

His free hand comes to your waist and he pulls you close. Your breasts press against him, your nipples beginning to harden as you continue sucking his finger. Joel lets loose a deep moan. The vibration goes through you and ends at the wetness that has started pooling in your panties. You release his finger as you did the popsicle, the loud pop rings through the room. 

Joel licks his lips as he looks at yours. “Is there anything else I can fix ‘round here?”

A playful grin spreads across your face and you pull on his hand, leading him out of the living room. You discard your popsicle on the coffee table as you pass it and lead him into your bedroom. 

“There’s this hole—” you say, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as you remove your shirt. You lean back onto one of your elbows and spread your legs wide. Joel’s eyes immediately snap to where you rub yourself through your shorts. His own hand feels against the tent growing in his jeans. “—that I’m hoping you can fill.”

Joel smirks, his hard cock pushes against the confines of his jeans. “I might have the right tool,” he says as he undoes the buckle on his pants. He lowers his jeans along with his boxers to his knees, freeing his massive cock. “I would have to see the hole first.”

Your eyes are wide in amazement at the size of him. Joel is large and thick. You watch him wrap his fingers around his dick and lazily stroke himself. His large head bobs with each stroke, the slit at the end already pearling with precum. 

You kick off your shoes and lift your behind off the bed to remove your panties and shorts all at once. You spread your legs wide again and run your fingers through your pussy lips. You’re so aroused there’s an audible wet noise when you spread your lips to show Joel the hole of your waiting cunt. 

Joel tuts and steps between your legs. He presses against your chest with the flat of his hand and forces you to lay down. With his cock in hand, he swipes along your slit, spreading your slick juices over himself. When he speaks his voice is dark. 

“Beautiful fucking flower my Orchid has.” He rubs his head against your clit and you gasp as the pleasure spikes across your body. “Is it as sweet on the inside as it looks on the outside?” 

He lowers his cock to your entrance and slowly pushes himself inside of you. Your legs begin to shake as his thick head spears into you. Deeper and deeper he goes. Inch by agonizing inch he pushes into you, going slowly to give your body time to accommodate the unbelievable size of his unit. He pauses once he’s fully inside and you can see the need twisted in his face. 

“Don’t wanna hurt ya, sweetheart,” he says, pulling out the tiniest bit and pushing back in. “I know it’s big but you’re taking it so well right now.”

You look up in complete awe of him, having no control over the way your pussy squeezes around him. He lowers a thumb to your bud and rubs gently, causing you to throw your head back with a long groan. He slowly pulls halfway out of you, then slides back in. 

He goes a while like this, rubbing your clit tantalizingly slow, and softly pumping in and out of you until he’s able to pull almost completely out then back in with ease. 

Joel picks up the pace as your body relaxes, yet he’s still incredibly large and your tight ring pulses around him. His hips rut faster as his thumb moves quicker. He wants to fuck into you with everything he has. Thrust. He wants your release on his shaft. Thrust. He wants his dick to destroy you. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. 

“Oh my god, Joel!”

A growl rumbles in his chest. “Yes, Orchid. I think I have the right tool for this hole.” He’s moving faster now. Harder now. He splits you in two over and over again as his giant cock rams into your soaking wet hole. “It needs some drilling!”

Joel completely lets himself go then. Snapping his hips, driving his member in and out of you as his thumb still circles your clit mercilessly. You cry out, pleasure wracking every fiber of you. It’s a lot to take in, the size of him, the mind melting thrusts, the constant pressure on your clit. You’re moaning his name over and over again as the headboard rocks against the wall. You are dizzy with desire and you feel an orgasm is soon approaching. 

Joel removes his finger from your clit and swipes it against his tongue. He savors the taste of you and licks his lips. “You’re fucking sweet, Orchid. You know that? Ya gotta pretty and tasty pussy.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Why don’t you cream on my cock for me? You’re so sweet and tight I won’t last much longer.”

His large hands push on the back of your thighs, folding your legs against you. The subtle change in position allows him to stroke even deeper inside you and his large head now hits against that sweet spot that has you grabbing the sheet underneath you. 

“Jesus, Joel,” you gasp as he continues to ram into you. The wet sound of your pussy mingles with Joel’s moans of pleasure, the melody of your sex creating a heady mix that has the building pressure in your core creep closer and closer to climax. 

“Yes, just like that, Orchid, my sweet fucking flower.” His fingers dig into your thighs and his tempo begins to falter. He’s dangerously close to finishing. “Come for me baby. Come on my cock.”

With a guttural groan your pleasure peaks, the pressure in your core snaps and your orgasm finally washes over you. Joel continues to ram into you, each deep drag of his dick sending more waves of bliss across every inch of your body. 

With a few more thrusts, he follows you. His hands grip onto your thighs and he pulls you tight against him as his cock twitches inside you. His spend releases deep inside you, coating your walls as he moans between deep gasps of air. 

When his cock has finally stopped twitching, he slowly pulls out of you then lowers close to your cunt. He watches the mixture of your release spill out of you before he scoops it in his fingers and pushes it back inside you. 

“Gotta make sure this hole stays filled, Orchid.” Two of his thick fingers slip into you and your sensitive hole tightens around his fingers. “Unless…” he pulls his fingers out and smears the slick along your slit. “You want me to come back another time and try filling it again?”

You peer at him between your legs, still swiping up your slit trying to keep your hole filled. “I might need regular visits,” you innocently say, squeezing your core and forcing some of the come out of you. “This hole just won’t stay filled!”

Joel grins as he continues to play between your lips. “I can’t have you go complainin’ to management that I’m a bad super, now. Give me a call, day or night, and I’ll come and fill that hole again. I’ll fill that hole everyday if that’s what it’ll take.”

You smile at the prospect of getting drilled then filled by your super on a daily basis. “Yes, Joel. I can make that work.”

[guess-my-next-obsession]

would you ever consider doing an elementary extension that includes them finding out they’re pregnant with iris? no pressure just wondering!!

The Birthday

pairing: elementary!joel x f!reader (Elementary-verse)

rating: M (talks of pregnancy, steamy moments, talks of vomiting)

wc: 1.9k

series masterlist

— September 26, 2003 —

You stirred awake later than usual, your body working overtime now that after months of trying, you were finally pregnant. You had yet to tell Joel the news, wanting to wait until the appointment you made for this afternoon to confirm the results of the four at-home tests you took before you got his hopes up.

Crawling out of bed, you stretched your arms out wide, letting out a hearty yawn before turning to look at Joel’s shirtless body still fast asleep in bed, sprawled out like usual, his feet nearly hanging off your side of the bed. You smiled at him and all of his quirks that would get under your skin if he were anybody else, your hand smoothing over your nonexistent bump. Though you’d been unable to fight off your morning sickness all week, somehow the thought of carrying his child and your wedding next month seemed to cure the nausea threatening to creep up on you.

Catching the alarm on his nightstand before it could ring out its harsh and piercing cry, you leaned over his form and pressed a kiss to his temple, your palm rubbing over the muscles on his smooth and warm back.

“Mm,” he hummed, rolling over onto his back. He rubbed at his eyes as he stirred awake, and after a big yawn, he focused his vision on you sitting on the edge. “Mornin’, baby.”

“Morning, birthday boy,” you greeted him with a smile, rubbing at his chest. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Shit—“ He sighed, raking one of his hands over his face. “Promised Sarah we’d have pancakes this mornin’ but I forgot to get it at the store.”

“Eggs and bacon then?” Joel gave you a soft smile and nodded. 

As you moved to stand, he caught your hand and tugged you back to him, beckoning you to lean down for a kiss which you happily obliged. Joel hummed against your lips, his arms wrapping around your waist as he tugged you to lay on top of him, your thighs straddling his hips as his kisses trailed down your chin to your jaw. 

“We can call off work,” Joel mumbled against your ear as he placed a kiss there, his hands wandering over your thighs to rest on your hips. “Spend all day in bed.”

“I have an important…meeting,” you lied. “Superintendent is coming. Can’t miss it.”

Joel pouted as you sat upright, your hands resting on his chest as you smiled down at him. 

“God, you make it hard to think rationally,” you laughed, lifting a hand to squish his cheeks together, his pout turning into a pair of fish lips. “That’s better.”

Joel laughed and patted your hip, letting you climb off of him so that he could stand up. 

“Gonna shower,” he said. “You’re welcome to join.”

“So persistent this morning,” you teased, swatting his ass as he passed you. “I’ll take a raincheck.”

“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me, I guess.”

With a smirk, you threw on your robe and padded your feet downstairs, finding Sarah sitting at the kitchen table finishing up her homework.

“Morning,” she greeted you with a smile. “How are you feeling? Did you throw up again?”

“No, I’m managing to keep it down today, or…at least for now. Knock on wood.”

After getting the coffee pot going, you pulled two pans from the cupboard and placed them on the gas stove, turning the heat on before walking over to the fridge to grab what remained of the eggs and bacon.

“You gonna tell dad today?” Sarah asked, whispering so that Joel didn’t accidentally overhear the news you’d shared with Sarah almost immediately after finding out yourself, her round, insistent eyes winning over your inner-strength.

“If everything goes well at the doctors,” you replied, looking over your shoulder at her while you cracked some of the eggs into the buttered pan. “You still wanna get his watch fixed?”

“I was hoping, but my allowance money is running a little low.” You looked back to see her shrugging with a frown, but quickly shook your head at her and walked over to your purse that rested on the counter, pulling out three twenties and handing them over. “No, I can’t—“

“You can and you will,” you replied, giving her a playfully stern look. “We’ll just say it’s from both of us.”

“Dad’s gonna love it,” she beamed, sticking the cash in her backpack. “We might see some tears tonight.”

“I’m counting on it.”

Joel’s quick and heavy footsteps sounded as he jogged down the stairs, finding you at the stove and Sarah hard at work on her algebra worksheet. He walked over and kissed her on the top of the head before walking into the kitchen, giving your ass a loving tap as he pulled three mugs out of the cabinet.

“Tommy coming by?” you asked as you watched him divvy up the coffee pot equally into all three cups. As if a lightbulb rang in your head, you realized caffeine might not be the best thing for you given the pregnancy. “Oh, actually…you don’t need to pour me one.”

Both Joel and Sarah gave you an odd look, having never seen you turn down your morning coffee.

“Just…I don’t want to be jittery and anxious for my meeting,“ you lied. 

“You have coffee every mornin’,” he countered, his brows furrowed as he watched you try to form a better excuse.

“Not when I’m already anxious,” you returned, doubling down on your lie. “Coffee will just make it worse.”

“Mm,” Joel narrowed his eyes at you as he lifted his mug to his mouth to take a sip. “You’re lyin’ ‘bout somethin’.”

“No, I’m not,” you quickly denied his claim with a giggle.

“Yeah, you are,” he chuckled. “But it’s alright, I’ll let you have your lie for now.”

“Mornin’, mornin’!” Tommy walked in with a wide smile, rubbing his hands together as he peered over your shoulder at the eggs. “Make sure to put some cheese on mine, sis.”

“She ain’t your personal chef,” Joel barked. 

“Shh,” you hushed your guard dog of a fiancé with a smile before looking over at Sarah. “You want cheese with yours, Sarah?”

“No, I’m okay,” she replied as she stuck her binder in her backpack. “I would like some OJ, though.”

“Bought a new jug of it yesterday,” Joel announced, moving to grab a glass from the cabinet behind him. “Baby, you want a glass, too? Since you’re not havin’ coffee for whatever reason.”

“Yes, please,” you replied, flashing him a thankful smile.

“Why ain’t you havin’ coffee? That’s new,” Tommy noted as he took a seat beside Sarah at the table.

“Why are you both so interested in what she does and doesn’t drink?” Sarah asked, coming to your defense.

“Alright, alright—“ Joel held his hands up in defense. “Didn’t know it was a touchy subject.”

“It’s not, now come help me carry these plates to the table,” you ordered, taking two of the plates in your hands while Joel set his coffee down to grab the other two. You set the plates down in front of Tommy and Sarah before taking your usual seat beside her, Joel joining shortly after.

“You think you’ll be home on time today?” you asked, looking to your fiancé as he stuffed his mouth full of bacon.

“Doubt it,” Tommy interjected. “We gotta wait for the cement guys to come and they take fuckin’ ages—“

“I’ll try my best,” Joel interjected with a glare aimed at his brother. “‘Specially if this one doesn’t drag ass again.”

As if your body suddenly remembered its current condition, the nausea that was nowhere to be found just minutes ago began to take root deep in your stomach. The smile on your face as you watched Joel and Tommy go back and forth faded into a look of worry as things spiraled faster than you could act. Your hand lifted to your mouth as you abruptly slid your chair back on the tile, drawing all eyes to you as you sprinted towards the bathroom, slamming the door behind you and just barely making it to the toilet. 

“Baby, you alright?” Joel’s voice sounded from the other side of the door as every bit of this morning’s breakfast came back up until you were left dry heaving. “Can I come in?”

“It’s gross,” you croaked, hoping it was loud enough for him to hear. It seemed he didn’t care much about your warning as he turned the doorknob and let himself in, finding his seat on the edge of the bathtub. 

“You alright?” he asked, his voice low and soothing as he rubbed your upper back. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, reaching to flush the toilet before moving to sit against the tub beside him, your head resting on his leg. “Must be the nerves.”

“You still goin’ with that lie?” he smiled down at you. “C’mon, baby.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you said, smiling nervously as you looked up at him. “A confirmed surprise.”

“Confirmed?” he repeated, his brows lacing together. You took a deep, calming breath and let it out in a slow sigh before meeting his eyes again, a grin spreading across your face. 

“I, uh, I was feeling off a couple weeks ago and so I went and got some tests—“ Joel’s brow softened, his eyes going round. “And they were positive.”

“You’re telling me…what?” he chuckled. “You’re…you’re pregnant?” 

“Yeah,” you giggled and nodded, wiping a tear that flooded your waterline. 

“Really?” he swooned, reaching out to help you onto your feet so that he could wrap his arms around you. “You ain’t punk-in’ me, or whatever that Ashton Kutcher show says, right?”

You laughed and shook your head as you squeezed his shoulders, his face buried in your neck. 

“No, you’re not getting punk’d,” you said. 

“Does this mean y’aint got an important meeting with the Superintendent today?” he asked as he pulled back to stare at you, his thumb stroking over your cheek. 

“No,” you smirked, looking down at his belt. “I am technically sick.” 

“Exactly,” he smirked. “And it’s my birthday.”

“Sounds like we’ve got some calls to make,” you said, biting your lip. “But first I think I need to scrub my entire mouth clean because that was—“

“I can’t believe we’re having a baby,” he interrupted your less than sweet talk with some tear-inducing sincerity. “Does Sarah know?”

“Yeah, she got it out of me pretty much right after I took the tests,” you laughed. “She’s excited, I think.”

“I’d kiss you if your breath didn’t smell so bad,” he teased, making you gasp and pinch his side. “Fine, I’ll kiss you anyways.”

“If it wasn’t your birthday—“

“But it is,” he smiled at you devilishly as his hands rested on your hips and tugged you closer to him, his lips leaning in to hover over your pulse before pressing a petal soft kiss there. “Go call off work and do what you gotta do. All I want for my birthday is you in my bed all damn day, alright?”

“Whatever you want…daddy,” you purred, a grin spreading across your face at the groan he let out. 

“Lord,” he sighed, shaking his head as he pulled back to look at you. “Go call out.”

[blueiscoool]

2,300-Year-Old Punic Tomb Complex Found in Malta

A 2,300-year-old Punic tomb was discovered during work in a car park near Mater Dei Hospital in Msida, Malta.

The archaeological discovery was made during trenching works near Mater Dei Hospital while preparing the site for the installation of a new potable water line.

The Superintendence of Cultural Heritage (SCH) has been overseeing the site since the start of the project, ensuring the protection and study of any potential discoveries during development works.

An excavation revealed a chamber hewn out of solid natural rock. After additional examination by the SCH’s on-site archaeology monitors, it was found that the chamber was a component of a larger burial complex.

The discovery consists of three burial chambers, each accessed through a central shaft, characteristic of Punic and Roman tombs. It is thought to have been used for multiple inhumations during the Punic and Roman periods. Remarkably, the entrance to each chamber was sealed with original slabs, and the contents inside included human remains and grave goods.

The burial chambers were meticulously excavated over two weeks by a committed team of SCH archaeologists and osteologists. The human remains were primarily inhumations, with some cremated remains stored in urns. The fact that many of the bones were arranged in a methodical manner raises the possibility that earlier remains were moved to make room for later burials. There were several inhumations in each chamber, with at least six in Chambers 2 and 3 and at least two in Chamber 1. A small collection of grave goods and cremation urns were also discovered, offering important new information about the burial customs of the time.

A team of experts, has been working on site to excavate, document, and interpret the remains, some of which have been transferred to the laboratory of the superintendence for further analysis.

Researchers will examine the remains for evidence of the age, sex, and health of the individuals, and conduct DNA analysis.

“The findings, which include skeletal remains, cremation urns, and other funerary artifacts, provide valuable insight into the ancient community that once inhabited the region. Preliminary analysis indicates a Punic timeline, although some artifacts suggest an extended period of use into the early Roman era,” the Foundation for Medical Services and SCH said.

Efforts are underway to ensure the tomb is retained in its entirety, with plans for permanent controlled access to allow for continued study and preservation of this significant archaeological site.

By Oguz Kayra.

[ask-icancraft-it]

Ring

(( Wrote this little 'meet-cute' ficlet over the weekend to help me get back into the groove of writing! Please enjoy! Tagging some pals: @bashfulgnome, @shitpost-it-tristan, @sgtcalhouns ))

For the past couple of weeks since she’d moved into her new apartment, Tamora had been surviving on microwaved foods and takeout. Today, however, she felt more put together than she had in some time. And with a spring in her step, she took a trip to the local grocery store and cooked a proper meal. 

Maybe Kohut had been right; that all she needed was a change of scenery. Someplace quaint and quiet to help ease her troubled mind.

Even that morning, she was compelled to dig out her old engagement ring from its box and place it on her finger without too much tearful sentimentality. What was usually a painful reminder strangely brought her comfort, so she wore it all day while running errands and doing chores. 

She’d even kept it on as she scrubbed the dishes and cookware, only to find it missing after letting the soapy water drain from the basin and drying her hands. 

Fuck.

Having been a sergeant in the military, Tamora could string together expletives in an impressive fashion. She yelled them out as she paced the kitchen floor, heart beating rapidly, and face turning red as she reprimanded herself. 

After the anger subsided, panic settled into the pit of her stomach. And in her desperation for a solution, she turned to the fridge. 

On the side panel, a magnet listed numbers to call within the apartment building, including that of the superintendent, whom she had embarrassed herself in front of weeks ago when she first moved in. 

The blonde grimaced as she recalled the moment the bottom of one of her boxes gave out, dumping everything to the floor at the very moment the handyman was walking by. And the way she had snatched the formal portrait of Brad from his hands as he attempted to help her…

Her pride be damned; if there was any way to get the ring back, she had to try. Dialing the number on her phone, she silently pleaded as it rang.

“This is ‘Fix-It’ Felix, how can I help you?” A cheery voice answered.

“Hi,” Tamora breathed, trying to mask the shaking in her voice. “Uhm— this is Tamora in 1102 and I dropped my ring down the sink. Am I fucked?”

Oh God, why did she say it like that?

“You are certainly not,” The gentleman reassured after a brief pause. “It happens all the time and it's likely stuck in the trap.” 

“Okay…” Tamora said after letting out the breath she’d been holding.

“I’m wrapping up a job downstairs. Leave the sink as it is, and I’ll be up in about fifteen to retrieve it for you, is that alright?”

“Y-yes,” she nodded. “Thank you.” 

As soon as she heard knocking, Tamora answered. Felix stood on the other side, blinking, knuckles still raised as the door swung open before him. 

“Hello,” he tipped his hat with a lopsided grin. He read some scribblings off a crumpled sticky note “Miss…Tamora Calhoun, correct?”

“Yes,” she replied, hoping that meant he’d forgotten all about their awkward introduction. Stepping aside, she allowed him entry into her apartment. “It's in the kitchen.”

“Alrighty, let's see here…” Felix placed the bucket he brought on the floor and pulled a flashlight from his tool belt. Shining the beam down the disposal drain, he inspected it before opening the under-sink cabinet. 

Tamora looked on nervously as he nestled himself down into the small space, setting the bucket underneath the piping as he removed the J-bend. And within a matter of moments, her ring was retrieved. Felix held onto it gently as he quickly replaced the pipe piece, and while he ducked out of the cabinet, he wiped it clean with a small cloth.

“Here you are!” The handyman held it up to her as he knelt. Seeing her awkward smile and hesitation, he realized his error and sprung up to his feet.

 “Oh, excuse me, I—” he stammered, trying again. “Here.”

“God, thank you…” Tamora couldn’t help the swell of emotion as she took the jewelry back, clutching it tightly. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

Felix looked at her, his face etched with sympathy as the blonde wiped away her tears. 

“Sorry,” she continued, pulling herself together. “I’m not usually this openly pathetic.”

“It’s as I said on the phone, these things happen all the time,” the gentleman replied, closing the cabinet doors. “You aren’t the first or last person to call a handyman in a crisis. There’s no need to apologize.”

Tamora nodded, choosing to believe he wasn’t just saying that to make her feel better. 

“Do you need anything else?” She shook her head no. “Alright.”

Felix picked up his bucket, starting to see himself out. 

“Miss Calhoun, I hope you have a wonderful evening—” He smiled, opening the entry door and stepping into the hallway. “And I’m glad I could help you today.”

With the way he said it, Tamora got the indication that the handyman did remember the last time they met. 

“Yeah…” the blonde bowed her head with a sheepish grin. “Listen, about two weeks ago— that wasn’t one of my best days. I didn’t mean to bite your head off.”

“It’s quite alright, I just hope your picture was okay.”

“Oh, yeah, it was fine,” Tamora replied, an image of the portrait's cracked frame nestled in the closet flashing in her mind.

“Good,” Felix smiled. “And if there is ever anything else you need, please don’t hesitate to give me a call.”

“I was certain you were going to tell me to ‘give you a ring,’” The blonde smirked.

The handyman made a face somewhere between surprise and delight, and the two of them laughed. 

“It had crossed my mind, but—” Felix cut himself off with another chuckle. “Well, now I know you can appreciate a corny joke or two.”

Tamora’s smile lingered, and she glanced down at the silver ring at her fingertips. 

“Well, thank you again for this,” she said. 

“Of course,” Felix tipped his hat once more. “Have a good night.”

“Goodnight,” Tamora closed the door softly.

Give you a ring? The blonde hid her face in her hands. So stupid. At least it seemed the handyman had genuinely enjoyed her little quip.

Looking down at her ring, she let out a sigh. “You were always better at making jokes.”

Walking into the bedroom, Tamora placed the ring back safely in its box, opting to leave it open as it sat by her bedside.

[wieniawskis]

i’ve had this giramie murder mystery fic in the drafts collecting dust for over a year (i wrote this when kingohger was still airing) and i’ve come to terms that i will probably never finish this 😭🙏 it’s a victorian era period murder mystery inspired by jack the ripper.

-

The murder rates were worrying.

Jeramie stared at the stack of papers haphazardly placed atop his desk, each reserved for one incident, though he suspected they were all connected in some way.

Apparently, Himeno agreed with this hypothesis. “Each individual was murdered with a different method, but their wounds are all too clean and precise to simply be a coincidence.”

“Though everyone has varying ties to crime,” Jeramie argued logically. “Some are former drug addicts and sex offenders, but others are average factory and store workers.”

There was a knock as the door opened.

“These aren’t random acts of violence,” Rita said as they stepped in briskly, their expression severe. They placed a paper in front of Jeramie, Himeno peering over, and pointed at the familiar face.

Both Jeramie and Himeno gasped.

“Detective Constable Boshimar?” Jeramie whispered.

“He was found this morning in an alleyway. He wore only his underclothes and his constable badge was found just feets away,” Rita explained. “We have reasons to suspect that Superintendent Hastie is tied to this case in some way.”

Himeno’s brows furrowed. “What does Chief Inspector Racules have to do with this case?”

It was Yanma who answered, who had just stepped into the room. “Because along with the dude’s badge, we also found Racule’s pretty little pendant.” He held up a familiar red and gold necklace.

Jeramie immediately recognized it: the red stone with the peculiar stag beetle carving at the center, framed by an intricate gold. An heirloom, he assumed back when he first caught sight of it.

“But,” he interjected. “That doesn’t explain how these aren’t done at random. I mean, Boshimar? Didn’t he also work under Superintendent Hastie’s father?”

“That’s what we don’t know,” Yanma gritted out.

“We’ve discovered that these factory and store workers were in contact with the mafia,” Rita interjected. “We can confirm that a handful of these victims owed money to them. Unfortunately, for the addicts and the sex offenders, there isn’t much we can do about them. Not only were they off the radar, but the people they interacted with were similar people…”

“Meaning that they won’t open their mouths to some government workers investigating the murders, and even if they say anything, you can’t really trust their word,” Himeno finished. She gave Rita a slight smile. “Well, at least that explains something… but it also brings up more questions than answers.”

Rita nodded. “These murders won’t be stopping any time soon if we don’t find something. I’ve also been increasing the number of patrols in hopes of witnesses or at best, an intervention.”

But Yanma shook his head. “I doubt it. The perpetrators are accomplished. They know what they’re doing. If they’ve been doing all these–” he gestured toward the stack of papers on Jeramie’s desk. “–and not a single witness or error, then I don’t think more patrols will do anything.”

Rita scowled. “It’s better than nothing,” they snapped. “We have a duty to protect the citizens and this is the least we could do. Or do you think otherwise, Detective Sergeant Gust?”

Yanma scoffed at the use of the title. “Calm your pants down. I was just adding my thoughts.”

There was a tense silence as Yanma and Rita burned holes into each other. Jeramie looked between them unsurely while Himeno stood unbothered by the conflict.

“Uh,” Jeramie swallowed. “Yanma, could you leave the pendant here? I’d like to investigate a bit on this myself.”

With the two no longer staring at each other, the atmosphere in the room warmed up considerably.

“Sure,” Yanma tossed the pendant toward Jeramie, who effortlessly caught it mid-air.

“Don’t toss important evidence,” Rita gritted their teeth.

Yanma rolled his eyes. “Sure thing, Chief Inspector.”

-

The florist was a bit cute, Jeramie thought to himself as he played around with the pendant Yanma handed him.

He leaned against the walls of some meat pie shop and watched as the young florist interacted with his customers.

He was young, perhaps in his late teens or early twenties, with mid-length hair neatly parted, one side french-braided and the other framing his face. Ladies with elegant bonnets and parasols seemed to flock toward the young man, the sight of delicate lace and frilly skirts unusual in a bustling street.

Jeramie decided, against his better judgment, to walk toward the shop, unintentionally leaving Himeno behind in the alleyway. He put the pendant back into his pocket and knelt down toward one of the flower bouquets.

“Beautiful flowers they are,” Jeramie commented when the last of the ladies finally departed.

The young man whipped his head around and–oh.

He was cute.

The young man blinked, his lashes fluttering in the light wind that blew past. He had burgundy eyes, Jeramie noted—and hair that shined red under the sunlight.

“Hello,” Jeramie greeted when the young man didn’t speak. He noted how his eyes flickered over to his uniform, surprise morphing on his face. “How are you?”

The young man smiled and Jeramie’s heart skipped a beat. “Good afternoon, sir!” He greeted him pleasantly. “And I’m doing well; thank you for asking.”

Jeramie nodded and pointed at the bouquet of flowers in front of them, though his eyes never strayed from the young man. “These flowers—they’re stunning.”

The young man’s cheeks tinged pink at the compliment. “Thank you, sir. I grew them myself, you see. In my garden out back.” His cheeks puffed up in pride.

“No wonder. I’ve seldom seen such vibrant flowers. I wonder what you are doing here in such a street? I would imagine you would do just as fine, if not better, in the more well-endowed districts?” Jeramie asked, not unkindly. He studied the young man’s face and added, “I’d imagine you get this often.”

“Quite,” the youth smiled. “Just now, actually. Those ladies said the same things, and I told them that they should just purchase their flowers from the nicer districts, but they insisted. Something about the quality of mine that drew their hearts.”

Jeramie laughed at that. “I feel quite the same, really,” he said. “I’ve never seen such beautiful flowers.” His hand hovered over the vibrant periwinkle, afraid of actually touching them.

“Thank you, again,” the young man said warmly. “Your name, sir?”

“My name?” Jeramie looked up in confusion from where he knelt over the bouquet. But he answered anyway, “Jeramie Brasieri. And yours?”

“Gira,” the young man—Gira answered. He turned away to step into his shop and came back out with a small bouquet of flowers, not unlike the ones upfront. “Then, Mister Brasieri, please take these.”

Jeramie blinked. “I could not,” he said.

“I insist. A thanks for your name and your kind words,” Gira smiled bashfully and pushed the bouquet into Jeramie’s hands.

“Then please call me Jeramie,” said Jeramie. “I don’t think we’re too far apart in age… Do you do this to all your customers?” he asked playfully.

Gira grinned. “You are not a customer, are you not? You are my friend.”

Something in Jeramie’s heart soared at the words and the smile that was directed toward him. “Then I will return again as a friend and a new customer,” he told the shorter man. “Until then. I think my colleague is wondering where I’ve gone.”

“Of course,” Gira giggled, his hands reaching toward his chest as if to fiddle with something, only to drop immediately after.

Jeramie’s eyes traced the young man’s movements but he didn’t think much of it. He bid Gira goodbye and quickly went back toward Himeno, who was no doubt annoyed at his disappearance.

-

“You have an admirer,” said Himeno with a smile. “I think he has a crush on you.”

Jeramie shook his head. “Don’t be silly; we just met,” he told her calmly.

Internally, however, his heart raced at the mere thought. Did Gira feel the same way?

No, it wasn’t good to dwell on such a thing. There was something more pressing, too. Like the suspicion on Racules and the murders.

Meanwhile, Himeno’s smile turned playful. “Oh really? Periwinkle and acacia, maybe. But a daffodil and a ranunculus? I’d say it’s a crush.”

“But we just met,” Jeramie tried to argue. Tried. “I think it would be worrying if the young man fell for whatever man came his way.”

Himeno waved her index finger. “But you aren’t a ‘whatever man’. You’re young, handsome, and you were uniformed too. I heard uniformed men are all the craze these days. Plus, it’s not like you have bad intentions toward him, right?” She pinned him with a stare.

“No, of course not!” said Jeramie hastily. “I just think–”

“Then why not?” Himeno interrupted with a grin. Her eyes flickered toward the bouquet and Jeramie quickly followed. “He’s a florist. I’m sure he isn’t putting together random combinations. And you said he made it for you? He obviously has a crush on you and apparently, so do you.”

Himeno stepped back with a smug smile and then paused. “You know his name, right?” She asked, suddenly serious.

Jeramie nodded. “Gira,” he said.

“Excellent.”

“What do you mean?”

But Himeno wasn’t listening. “Just Gira?” She asked, ignoring Jeramie’s question.

“Just Gira,” Jeramie affirmed tiredly.

-

Gira wiped the blood off his face, the sanguine liquid eerily matching the redness of his hair that was illuminated under the moonlight. He stared blankly at the body in front of him and the blade in his hands hung languidly. Calmly. With experience.

He reached for his neck, index and thumb pinching on thin air, before he paused, and let his hand fall back down.

“How troublesome,” he murmured, thinking of the man he had seen.

Jeramie Brasieri… was it?

-

Jeramie learned that Gira was an orphan of some sorts. An emphasis on ‘of sorts’. He was an illegitimate child, apparently, or so he was told.

“I was left at an orphanage when I was young,” Gira told him quietly. He gave Jeramie a bitter smile. “It wasn’t the most pleasant experience, as you can imagine. Going from a large manor to a cramped and moldy room.”

They were at a restaurant with bustling music and other men languidly talking amongst each other. It was a nice establishment with decent food and service. Most of all, most people kept to themselves.

Gira continued, “I was adopted by a man who claimed to be my biological father, but who knows, right? But he left me with his entire estate when he passed and I chose to open a flower shop here.”

Jeramie nodded in understanding. “My mother–” he paused to swallow. “I was conceived out of wedlock, you see, and my father was disowned. My mother loved him very much and did not take the news of his passing too well. She passed when I was a child and I have lived with my aunt since.”

His mother loved him so much, yet was unable to move on from her love for his father. Jeramie understood well, which was why he didn’t resent her at all. Yet at times, he wished she was still here, alive to see how far Jeramie had come.

“We’re a bit similar, you and I,” said Gira with a smile. “No wonder we’ve become so close.”

They spent the rest of the night talking about lighter topics. They shared a dislike for opera, both able to admire the beauty but unable to sit through it all. And for social functions, as well. At least for Jeramie, he wasn’t invited to many to begin with, but he still preferred the comfort of his office or his home over functions and balls. Apparently, Gira felt the same.

“I never liked it,” Gira admitted with a blush. “And then I mostly grew up in an orphanage. I think I’ve gotten so used to the roughness of it all that I can’t quite go back to the delicate high fashion sensibilities.”

“They are quite uncomfortable,” Jeramie agreed.

They finished off their meals and headed out. They walked through the dimly lit streets, only the steps of their shoes audible.

Jeramie glanced at the bouquet in his hands and blinked. “I forgot to thank you for the bouquet earlier, as well as the one from before. I still have them. They’re faring remarkably well.”

“Do you know floriography?” Gira asked.

“No; but my friend does,” Jeramie answered with a shake of his head.

The smile of Gira’s face turned playful as he looked at him through squinted eyes. “Did they tell you what those flowers meant?”

Jeramie turned pink and looked away, which was apparently enough of an answer for Gira, who giggled. He glanced at his current bouquet, but still found himself unable to understand the language of flowers.

“She told me that you had a c-c-crush on m-me,” Jeramie stammered out quietly. He glanced at Gira and froze when he saw the expression on the other’s face.

He was staring at the ground, visibly red even underneath the dim lights of the darkened streets. There was a roaring cheer as the bar a few blocks away suddenly sprung to life.

“Apple blossoms, Camelias, Lilies of the valley…” Gira stepped forward with each word until he stood in front of Jeramie. He stared up into his eyes with a bashful smile, then… then…

Pecked Jeramie’s lips with his own.

Jeramie stood, absolutely frozen in shock, his heart hammering against his chest. He was sure his ears were steaming with how hot his face felt.

“Oh…” Jeramie blinked back to life. He took Gira’s hand into his own and used his other to grab the shorter man’s waist, pulling him toward until their chests were touching. Their breaths were hot against each other as they stared deeply into their faces.

Jeramie, after a moment of silence, leaned in to capture the other man’s lips, this time, much more firmly. He felt Gira gasp, his body pushing against Jeramie’s.

They parted moments later, realizing only then that they were standing in the middle of the streets.

“I-I-I,” Gira stammered out. “I have to go. I’ll see you again… tomorrow?”

Jeramie, surprised at the change in topic, nodded. “Tomorrow.”

Gira smiled and before Jeramie could say anything else, he surged forward to quickly peck his cheek one last time. “Tomorrow,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”

Jeramie watched as Gira walked away. His heart beat rapidly against his chest and he felt like he was in the clouds.

He snapped out of his bubble when he heard footsteps coming near, strong and imposing in contrast to his own. Not knowing what to do, Jeramie leapt into the nearest alleyway and frozen, unsure why he had even done so.

The steps came closer and closer before stopping somewhere nearby. Jeramie’s breath was caught in his throat when he heard the familiar voice.

“You lost him?”

“I’m afraid so. He had disappeared instantly before I could catch up. I apologize.”

“It’s frustrating, but it is no fault of your own. We’ll try again later.”

Jeramie sat, frozen in the darkness.

Why were Superintendent Hastie and Assistant Superintendent Dybowski here?

-

“You’re absolutely certain that it was Superintendent Hastie and Assistant Superintendent Dybowski?” Rita asked.

Jeramie nodded. “I’m certain,” he told her.

Yanma cocked an eyebrow. “And why were you there? You know, late at night. Don’t tell me you were patrolling alone.”

But Jeramie shook his head. “I had gone out to dinner with my friend,” he ignored Himeno’s knowing smile. “And after my friend and I parted, I heard footsteps and… hid in an alleyway.”

Rita’s left eye twitched. “You friend… who is it?”

It was Himeno who answered. “Why of course, it’s Gira,” she answered with a smile. “Jeramie’s new… friend.”

“Just Gira?” Rita turned to Jeramie, who nodded in response. Their brows furrowed. “He didn’t tell you anything else?”

Yanma interjected with an incredulous expression, “And you didn’t find it weird?”

“Well… no,” Jeramie answered with a shrug. “Why should I?”

He thought of Gira’s large doe-eyes and the bright smile he gave all his customers. The way he seemed to brighten up even more whenever someone complimented his flowers. The reddened cheeks when someone complimented his skills.

Yanma groaned when he saw the look on Jeramie’s face. “Listen here, loverboy. So there’s a guy who no one else has seen, who has only given you his first name, and is potentially the person Racules—our main suspect, and Kaguragi are looking for? And you don’t find it strange at all?”

“No?” Jeramie answered confusedly, furrowing his brows in frustration. “Why should I be?”

Yanma clicked his tongue. “This guy…”

“Look, I just thought he didn’t want to share it because it was associated with nobility,” Jeramie explained.

Himeno leaned forward in interest. “Nobility?”

Jeramie mentally apologized to Gira and nodded. “He told me something about being a potentially illegitimate child,” he told them. “They left him at an orphanage when he was young and he was later adopted by a man who claimed to be his biological father. And apparently, that man had passed away and Gira inherited all the assets. That’s why he opened a flower shop.” Amongst other things.

“Jeramie,” Himeno said after a tense silence. “In each of the murder scenes, there was a wilted flower of sorts.”

Jeramie’s stomach dropped. “What?”

Rita nodded. “We assumed it was a coincidence. A wilted bay tree is nothing much to note. There was a begonia bush nearby where a wilted begonia was found. But then in the next scenes, there was an oleander, rhododendron, and a crab blossom.”

“Glory, beware for the begonia, oleander, and rhododendron, and ill will for the crab blossom. And at the scene of the sex offender,” Himeno explained sharply. “It’s simply too perfect to ignore, no matter how circumstantial they could be.”

But Jeramie tried to argue, “Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with Gira. Don’t you find that weird? That the person I’m seeing just so happens to be the perpetrator?”

Himeno nodded, “It’s strange, yes,” she conceded, “But not impossible.” She paused and turned around to Yanma. “You said something yesterday about Superintendent Hastie’s pendant yesterday, didn’t you?”

Yanma sighed. “I just said that I think I saw Racules with his pendant yesterday!”

Himeno whipped around to look at Jeramie. “You still have the pendant with you, yes?”

Jeramie blinked. He reached into his pocket, “Of course I do–”

Empty.

His pocket was empty.

Jeramie recalled the night before. He had taken to carrying around the pendant with him everywhere and had put the pendant into his pocket before departing. Did he drop it when he hid in the alleyway? Or…

When they kissed, did Gira manage to take it? But why would he, unless…

“Unless the pendant was never Superintendent Hastie’s to begin with…” Jeramie whispered.

“What?”

Jeramie whipped his head up. “I had the pendant yesterday,” he spoke softly but firmly. “Yanma, if what you saw yesterday was correct, then that would imply that Superintendent Hastie never lost the pendant to begin with. Or,” he added when he saw Yanma open his mouth. “There’s more than one pendant.”

“Had?” Himeno repeated sharply. “You still have it with you, right?”

Jeramie looked away, unable to answer her. He heard Himeno let out a loud breath and Rita inhaled sharply.

“So we have a shaky witness of Superintendent Hastie with his pendant–” everyone ignored Yanma’s indignant shout. “And the possibility of the pendant that was found at the scene not being Superintendent Hastie’s at all. Then why…” Himeno froze mid-word. “Jeramie, you’re going to meet him today, right?”

“How do you–”

“Great. I’ll come with you.”

[beardedmrbean]

A black belt shopper wearing heels stopped an armed robbery at a convenience store by karate kicking the assailant.

Wadokai karate enthusiast Mairi Kerin, 42, hit and kicked the man after he told a shopkeeper he was there “to take your money”.

It would later emerge the man was armed with a knife and a firearm.

CCTV footage showed him lift a black bag towards the shop worker.

In a split-second manoeuvre, Ms Kerin grabbed his arm and aimed a kick at his shin.

He ran for the door as Ms Kerin followed close behind.

Ms Kerin has now been given a police chief superintendent commendation award by West Mercia Police.

Bad back, no problem

On the day of the robbery, Ms Kerin said she had a bad back and sore feet from a new pair of heeled boots.

“I had a bit of a bad back so I was quite slow and as I got out of the car I noticed this person all covered up and thought: ‘You look like you’re going to rob a shop’.

“I remember telling myself you can’t think that about people, can’t pigeonhole people like that. I thought that maybe he’s just got a bike somewhere, he’s been out riding or whatever.”

Ms Kerin was standing at the counter when the man entered the shop and confronted the worker.

She added: “I thought something was a little off. I heard the shopkeeper ask ‘why did you put something against the door?’ and I heard him reply, ‘because I’m going to take your money’. He said it really cool, really calm.

“I had been getting ready to pay, so I put my phone and my keys away and then it all happened really quickly.

“He stepped forward. I could see his pockets were full and I thought he had weapons, my eyes were glued to his pockets. I just thought if I was going to wait for whatever it was that was coming out, it would be too late. When I saw his left hand still in his pocket I took the chance.

“I just grabbed his arm and kicked him in the shins. We would later find out a knife and a firearm were involved, but whatever was in the left pocket, for that moment it was not coming out.”

The incident was part of several burglaries across Telford that week, police claimed.

Jordan Hickman, 29, Jake Jones, 21, and an 18-year-old who could not be named for legal reasons were jailed for a combined total of 18 years for their involvement.

Chief Superintendent Edd Williams said: “It was my pleasure to award Mairi with her bravery award. Her quick thinking meant that no one was harmed during this attempted robbery and no money or goods were stolen.”

[scftrebellion]

overseers, fieldcalls & the distancing of community: HCing intra-District dynamics

okay i think i’ve mentioned already that i think District 11 is heavily influenced by Black american culture. i think it’s inspired by enslaved people/sharecoppers in the deep south & how they revolted constantly against plantation owners & then later Jim Crow laws. i also don’t think Suzanne made those connections accidentally.

however!!! these are just HCs!!! i am not Suzanne Collins’ bestie & i don’t know what’s going on in her mind when it comes to the world she’s built. these are just some headcanons that i’ve made because District 11 & how close it resembles the history i’ve grown up learning is very interesting. if you don’t agree that’s totally fine. but i just think about how …

… during the slave era, overseers were often poor white men put in charge of driving output from enslaved laborers. while these positions often proved to be more lucrative than attempting to cultivate farms themselves or find employment in a environment where labor could be sourced for free, they came alongside a lot of pressure.

due to intense demand put on them from the wealthier plantation owners & feelings of being jilted out of the opportunity to accumulate their own wealth vis a vis ownership of their own slaves, overseers had a tendency to resort to unnecessarily cruel or debilitating punishments. they viewed enslaved people as subhuman, and so treated them worse than animals.

most overseers where white. but some plantation owners had Black overseers. it was thought that enslaved people listen better to someone that looked like them, and show the plantation owners in a sympathetic light for giving a Black enslaved man such a enviable position.

but it would actually just further divide the community. providing a Black enslaved man with better clothing, housing, food and privileges in exchange for him losing favor with the collective. the disdain he’d be viewed with in turn would widen the gap, and he’d become so resentful of being ostracized that he’d be unlikely to take the whip/gun and turn it onto the real enemy: the plantation owner. he could become as violent & self-serving as his white predecessors, and crack down harder on the people that used to be his community out of jealousy or hatred or betrayal.

“so what does this have to do with District 11?”

well. my theory is that there were a select few people in the district that were used as overseers for the various crop fields. it was seen as a “promotion”, and they were called “superintendents”. these men & women would be elevated to positions of power over the other people in the District, and given more pay along with better housing/food/clothing. their families would often be spared from having to work the fields themselves, and they would be considered the “lower middle class” of the District. the only people richer would be the peacekeepers, the handful of people that ran stores, and the politically elite that worked in the justice building.

but these “promotions” would be seen by the rest of the District as bootlicking to the Capitol, and selling out to the people that actively starved & oppressed their District. to take one of these superintendent positions would be to forfeit their position in the community, but to deny it would be to deny their families a chance at a better life.

a few superintendents turn to substance abuse to deal with the weight of the decision, and some become recluses from shame. but some become cruel & contemptible.

on the contrast, there is a position in the district known as a “fieldcall”. now fieldcalls have different demographics depending on the crop they’re assigned to. the fieldcalls that work in the orchards, for example, are usually children because they can climb faster & higher than a grown adult would be able to. fieldcalls in the sugar cane fields are usually the taller people in the district—mostly men, but the occasional woman too—so that they’ll be visible over the tall-growing cane leaves. the job of a fieldcall is mostly in the name—they’re there to call the start & end of the day, and they tend to lead the work hymnals that people in District 11 sing to pass the work day.

these “sorrow songs” are useful for a lot of things. they were a way that the people of District 11 kept their culture & their spirits strong even under ruthless injustices. a powerful form of musical expression and resistance, District 11 would use these songs for everything from plans of revolt to ending a work day to mourning as a community. the cleverness & musicality of being a fieldcall is a highly respected position, as they’re usually the main source of important information for the rest of the District. it’s a heavy burden & respected honor to be the position of a field call.

and whereas being a superintendent is a title bestowed by the Capitol & is treated as such, the fieldcall is a position given to someone by their community. all it takes is a strong singing voice & a little spark of cunning for people to then look to you for the music & as a source of information.

of course, how the District treats superintendents is exactly what the Capitol intends. and i can picture there always being a strong tension between fieldcalls & superintendents. someone ostracized by their community vs someone openly revered by it.

just… the idea of fieldcalls having a tendency to be targeted by superintendents, and then Rue (who says she whistles to let people know the end of the work day) being killed by a Capitol figurehead (Marvel being from a Career district) kind of gave me the idea & now i can’t stop thinking about it.

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High Junior Year Ep 9

Into the Woods

Note: I almost called this recap "There's Something in the Glade There" but I figured I'm go for the less obscure reference.

Welcome back to Fantasy High and, more specifically, to the Vulture Dimension where our intrepid heroes have been shunted after Kristen, in a moment of peril, decided to “Hey Girlie” a random vulture in the middle of a fight. In fairness to her, she was out of spells at the time but, let’s be real, odds are good that this would have happened regardless. 

The Bad Kids are immediately faced with the giant, screeching Vulture King who demands that they answer his riddle and asks if they want to do it individually or simultaneously. Because they have a higher sense of chaos than self preservation, the majority votes for simultaneously which means they all have to answer the same thing at the same time and the Vulture King will kill them if they try any shenanigans (and ooh do they try). Lucky for them the riddle is a multiple choice question: Vultures-Yea or Nay?  Everyone says yea and the Vulture King happily says they all pass. Adventuring Party note: Brennan did have a whole fight planned for if they failed the “riddle” so it’s a good thing they got the nonsense out of their system before they answered. Especially because, contrary to what they assume, time doesn’t pass differently in the vulture dimension. The fight is still happening! As a prize for solving the riddle of the vulture dimension, the King has his minions rip his body apart and his viscera become magic items the party can take, which they do as they exit back to the fight. 

Back at the Festival, the battlefield has changed. More people have fled, the girls washer and dryer are fighting, and Grix is casting Hold Person on Ruben. I won’t give a blow by blow here but suffice to say, they finish up the fight and Fabian gets the killing blow, committing Principal-cide before we’re even halfway through the season. Gorgug, uncharacteristically pissed, gets on mic and tells everyone to get off his lawn and leave his house. Fig, as Wanda, gets a 30 to create an illusion of her leaving on a bus while Ruben desperately chases after her. Shortly after that, Agent Clark shows up asking about the Wanda sighting but Gorgug is absolutely not having cop behavior on his property and asks for a warrant, oinking at him when he admits he doesn’t have one and retreats. Our boy is *aggro* today!

Everyone goes to check on Grix’s body to see if they can figure out what that dude’s damage is. Gorgug thinks there might be something related to the Cloud Rider engine happening but, with a 21 Tinker's Tools check, finds nothing. Grix’s hard drive is encrypted and bears Aguefort’s arcane mark (an on-fire egg and an open book). Adaine’s Identify spell doesn’t clock him as anything other than what we’ve been told he is: an automaton made by Aguefort (and stored at school) to maintain order. Curiously, we are specifically told that he had directives to enforce school bylaws, make sure nothing hinky is happening while the superintendent's office might be investigating, and to leave campus to take care of things that might be a direct threat to the existence of the school. 

Fig wonders if someone tampered with the school’s bylaws to make him act in such an an-Aguefort manner. Riz wonders if making a crazy robot by not thinking things through is exactly what Aguefort would do but thinks the bylaws idea is good to follow up on. Fabian says Mazey, as school prez, might be a good person to ask about bylaws. 

Riz has another idea: What if Ruben and his band were executing some kind of ritual with their performance? Fig notes that there were/are no other Rat Grinders around which feels suspicious while Riz, Kristen, and Adaine investigate the stage. Under the stage, they find these glowing singers/power connectors that are giving off a faint, red glow. They aren’t in an obvious pattern but Gorgug notices they don’t make any sense the way they’re set up–you wouldn’t set up connectors that way for effective electrical wiring. Riz notices there are 24 of them just like the rage stars and where Ruben was standing would be the center. 

Fig wants to question Ruben but he’s gone, still chasing the ghost of Wanda Childa. A victim of her own success! When Gorgug unplugs the power source that’s powering the stingers, there’s not a release of energy. It seems like whatever was going on with them has already happened. He also notices that there was one under each speaker and everyone realizes that the lyrics of Ruben’s song were all about getting mad: probably rage god related! 

Riz wonders if the other Rat Grinders were pressuring Lucy to switch to the Rage god (and *I’m* wondering if this rage god was the reason for Ruben’s switch for acoustic guitar to emo screamo) and Adaine suggests they go to the Farhaven Woods to talk to the rats that they were so fond of grinding. 

Kristen tracks down a rat to talk to and Fabian eats the raw guts of a full vulture to activate a magical item that will allow him to speak with animals before realizing that he completely misunderstood the item. Whoops. He gets it right the second time (eating the V King’s tongue)  and they’re able to have a very illuminating conversation with Spot–a rat that got a Nat 20 on his history check about Lucy. 

Spot says that they didn’t like the Rat Grinders very much because they were always killing them but, around Sophomore Year, Lucy started coming back after her party left to resurrect the dead rats so they liked her a lot. Fabian asks about if the RG’s had a hideout and Spot says they hung out all over the place but there’s one place he and the other rats like to go because it was the last place…he trails off. After a brief interlude about the Rat World under the school (don’t worry about it) and a Bardic from Fig (DO worry about it), Spot agrees to take them to the special place. 

By now, it’s late and Fig and Kristen have a short conversation about how this is all very Cassandra vibes. The shards Kristen carries glows and she vows to find Cass’s husband (or WIFE, cuts in Adaine the ally. Don’t assume). 

As they approach the lake, Fabian feels his stomach get upset and, before anyone can do anything, an owl swoops down and eats Spot. RIP. Please, hold an exorcism for Fig you guys I’m BEGGING you. Anyway, Riz comes in hot with a Nat 20 Investigation check which means that Brennan has to give them EVERYTHING. 

There are a bunch of violently felled, rotten trees around them and expertly hidden under vines and foliage Riz finds the body…of Yolanda Badgood! That’s Kristen’s teacher that she informed about Lucy a few eps back. Last we heard she was going to talk to Jace about it. The body seems like it was taken apart by force damage (which Emily thinks is Steel Wind Strike which we do know that Grix has, for the record). There’s no magical residue (which either means no magic or great cleanup) and it’s about 3 hours dead. Three hours ago is also around when Ruben was playing. 

Kristen tries to cast Raise Dead but she finds that something is preventing her. Yolanda’s ribs are cracked and in the center of the sternum is something she can’t see–specifically there is something there that she can tell is there but is effectively censored–she realizes that it’s the sigil of the dead god’s name and it has been stamped here in some kind of unholy last rites to keep Yolanda’s soul trapped. Adaine switches her diviner vision to the ethereal plane which allows her to spot the sigil in another place. That helps them find Lucy’s dead body under a tree because the same process was done to her. 

Lucy has clearly been dead for months and her body looks like it was attacked by many assailants–weapons and magic. There’s also something weird about the soil around where these bodies and the sigil are. The plants’ roots are almost refusing to grow. And Fabian notices that Lucy’s blood vessels were crushed with such force that the blood has carbonized and turned to diamonds (Adaine–no).

Gorgug looks at the trees and thinks that based on how violently they were felled and they way they’ve broken, someone fought a giant here (unclear if that means an actual giant or Lucy herself being giant-kin) and the tree on Lucy was put there intentionally to hide the body (which suggests a non-Lucy giant being involved). 

It's about 3am. Kristen tries for a Divine Intervention and fails. Then she remembers what Yolanda said about how since Cass is gone, she’s the one who has to work the miracles of doubt. Kristen reaches out her awareness to her goddess and hears some words: Spies, Tongue, Curse. 

There’s a discussion about whether they should report this so that Lucy’s parents can at least have the closure of her body being found that ends inconclusively but Adaine gets a sample of the weird soil so Riz can take it to his soil club buddy Molman (Riz Gukgak: king of the dweebs!). 

Kristen starts an impromptu, ad hoc ceremony, combining Spare the Dying with her sadness that Yolanda is dead and her regret for not being a better student to a teacher she actually really liked. She places one of Cass’s shards on Yolana’s chest and the sigil loses its grip on her. Her soul is no longer stuck. Kristen quickly does the same for Lucy and Gorgug and Fabian witness the souls of Lucy and Yolanda holding hands and moving on. Kristen may be a so-so student and a meh evangelizer but gods, she’s a GOOD cleric. And a much more useful one now because as soon as this happens, she regains her spellcasting! How? Don't ask too many questions. Her domain is doubt. The logic can be fuzzy. 

Fig gets a Nat 20 to cover their tracks and, with their limited time, she chooses to cover the tracks leading directly to the body, not the ones that show they were in the woods. Riz/Murph hilariously points out something I say all the time–this is a magical world where Zone of Truth exists. If anyone accuses them of killing the women, they can just submit to a truth spell. Once they leave the woods, Fabian calls the cops with a fake name and a voice filter and idk why he thought Brennan would make the cops helpful. They’re transferred to Agent Clark at the Council of Chosen almost right away and Fabian hangs up as Clark starts to trace the call. 

With that, we enter another period of downtime! 

Riz is up first. He rolls Academics first (DC 5) and tries to find the Rogue prof–he needs a 30 for that but “only” gets a 25 which is still an A. Next is Extracurriculars (DC 10) which he gets a 22 on even with disadvantage. He hands off the soil to Molman who is excited to check it out but gets suspiciously aggro when he sniffs it (though it’s played as a joke). Third track is Popularity (DC 15) and with a 19, he’s gathering all sorts of freaks and geeks to vote for Kristen. He doesn’t roll for Relationships which means that he’s not spending that much time with his Mom and he misses her visit to the cemetery to see his dad. He runs into her after the visit and amidst the guilt, asks about her Frostfair case. She said the case folded and he wants to know about that so she says she’ll drive him to school and they can talk about it on the way. We don’t get that conversation this episode so put a pin in it for now. 

Fabian drops some cash on some nurses with B12 shots to help his friends relax, but, due to the mechanic, they can’t roll relaxation later than third to benefit and Relaxation has to be the last track they roll.

On to Gorgug! He decides that it’s time to take care of business and rolls Barbarian first (DC 5) since Porter says that he won’t sign his MCAT without an A+. He doesn’t make it at first but, luckily, his party includes a Div Wizard. Adaine drops a portent roll on him and he clears it with ease as she helps him study. She also starts having visions of him spellcasting while raging and specifically, a vision of him doing that while making a big triumphant leap at a party (which is described as Fabian’s bday party–I assume this is the same party she had a vision of before but I previously thought it was a campaign victory party or Gorgug/Riz’s bday. I will also say, Brennan has specifically mentioned the glowing moon each time. Anyway, moving on). 

Emboldened by his success, Gorgug slams down the door and tells Porter he sucks. Porter is loving this energy and asks about the video of him oinking at a cop. Where has THAT energy been this whole time? Porter finally has a solid conversation with Gorgug and tells him that he has to give himself permission to get angry when he feels it rather than always smoothing it down, especially when he literally gives himself permission to murder people on the regular. He signs Gorgug’s MCAT and tells him about an optional exam called the Last Stand which is kind of a loophole that Aguefort built in to help kids screwed over by bureaucratic rules. He says if Gorgug needs it at the end of the semester then they can talk more and that there are definitely kids who are gonna need it this year because he heard a full class went pass fail. Kristen realizes that her teacher straight up died so that class might be her class. And that will affect a lot of parties potentially because almost everyone has a cleric. Finishing up with Academics, his Artificer 1 (DC 10) is a 23 (A+). His Art 2 (DC 15) is a DC 15. He takes a stress when he fails and passes with a C. Art 3 (DC 20) he also passes with a C once Riz takes a stress for him. He has a talk with Henry, his teacher, who says he needs to buckle down because things are getting rough though he understands there are only so many hours in the day…unless he builds a time machine of course. It’s said like a joke but this is the chronomancy 4 life school so who knows. Gorgug says he’s gonna do better, especially since he has his MCAT now. He also rolls for Owlbears (DC 25) and gets a 26, managing to not get kicked off! Gorthalax is thrilled. With all that rolling for school he doesn’t have time to roll for Relationships and his bio parents head back before he has a chance to hang out with them. Just like Riz, he feels bad about having missed the chance to connect.  

Now, let’s check in with the elven Oracle. Adaine rolls Academics first (DC 5) and gets a 15 which is an A but not an A+. She takes it and Prof Runstaff says that her spellwork is immaculate but she needs better materials. Adaine swallows her frustration at that and, over the weekend, she gets a text from Aelwyn: Can't believe I'm gonna say this. Miss my little sister. Everything all right? Adaine asks for her to come to Basrar’s so they can talk and Aelwyn does. She fills Adaine in on her living situation (TEN CATS???) and seems genuinely concerned and appalled that Adaine is working as a waitress in an attempt to solve her diamond problem. As she correctly points out, that math on that just doesn’t add up. She gets Adaine to take her break, abjures some annoying Falinel elf who’s trying to get Adaine to do oracle stuff, and says that there are other ways to make money besides waitressing. Adaine is suspicious and those suspicions are proven true when Aelwyn reveals that she’s been getting her extra cash by working for none other than Kipperlilly Copperkettle. Just can’t help yourself from working for bitchy, blonde, Aguefort girls huh?

Honor Roll

Kristen for Being A Damn Good Cleric

Listen, I have stuff to say about Kristen the student and Kristen the sole manager of a religion but I can’t say anything about Kristen as a Cleric in the purest sense of the word. When the chips are down and she’s locked in, she’s truly untouchable in her field. And outside of just the raw power, her genuine emotion and care for Lucy and Yolanda was really touching. She may have a C in class but right now she’s getting an A+ when it counts. 

Detention

Fabian for Eating A Normal Ass Raw Vulture

This is honestly more just for his own safety than to punish him. Reading is fundamental my guy! So is cooking raw meat! (Though idk how much that will help when the animal you’re eating mainly eats ROTTING CORPSES). 

Random Thoughts

I wonder if Aguefort had an ulterior motive for going on a semester-long vacation this year. Perhaps avoiding an investigation he knew was coming?

Given Lou is playing Fabian as oblivious to Adaine’s money troubles, how insane must it be to watch your “rich” friend for a moment consider robbing a dead person’s blood for diamonds?

RIP Yolanda :( You would have loved to know that Kristen got her spellcasting back. 

Very predictable of me but I’m so psyched to jump right into Abernant stuff at the top of next episode. Aelwyn said she was gonna get them sandwiches and Dimension Door them to the wreckage of their burned down mansion. That’s SO dramatic. I missed her so much. Also very curious to know to what level Aelwyn is working with KP. In her mind is this an evil plan she’s working on or does she just know KP hired her to do something maybe slightly shady but not evil? I assume this is what she was doing when she texted Adaine back that winky face. Does she know Adaine hates her? Because Adaine is very not subtle about it. We’ll see next week! 

(Also, “miss my little sister”. Ugh, love. And I love that she seems genuinely concerned in a sisterly way about Adaine’s money troubles).  

There’s the matter of what Kristen got from Cass: Spies, Tongue, Curse. In the episode, they speculated that Tongue is Fabian because he had just eaten the Vulture King’s tongue to speak to Spot and the Curse was Fig for obvious reasons. If they’re correct and the words all match up to a different Bad Kid then spy is likely Riz or Adaine. Riz because of all his spy gadgets or Adaine because with this revelation from Aelwyn that she has dirt that she’s willing to share on KP/presenting KP as a potential way to make money, she could be the spy. 

The fact that Grix can intervene outside of school if there is a threat to the school’s existence is a big clue. It seems likely that he was trying to ice Ruben, not for any drugs he may have done but to stop the ritual he was doing. We don’t really know what it was about or how much he (Ruben) even knew about but it’s hard to imagine that it was a fun, chill ritual.  

Lucy’s body seems to have been destroyed by a party of diverse adventurers, potentially her own party which would be messed up. But we have to consider the possibility that they didn’t do it on purpose. Those Rage Mages killed their friends in the mall fight and that wasn’t on purpose. And I can see dumbass teens covering their tracks. 

Lucy being dead and her soul being trapped to her body makes the fact that Fig’s disguise didn’t phase her at the party even more baffling. Ivy, what games are you playing???

Lucy named Spot :(

Let the record show that my autocorrect also thinks that KP has four (dog) names:

[mariacallous]

Elon Musk asserted last week that before any US federal employee can retire, their paper records have to be processed more than 200 feet underground in an old limestone mine located in rural Pennsylvania, which he said often takes months. “And then the speed—the limiting factor is the speed—at which the mine-shaft elevator can move determines how many people can retire from the federal government,” Musk said, standing next to a seated President Donald Trump in the Oval Office. “And the elevator breaks down sometimes, and then nobody can retire—doesn’t that sound crazy?”

While Musk’s comment about elevator dependency is overstated—the mine has many entrances and exits, as well as a road leading in and out that golf carts and other vehicles can drive on—his general point about inefficiencies within the federal retirement process is true. The Office of Personnel Management, which functions as the human resources department of the US government, tells retirees to expect a three- to five-month wait to process their applications. And retirement paperwork for federal employees does route through a storage facility in a repurposed limestone mine in rural Boyers, about 50 miles north of Pittsburgh.

When the system at Boyers was first established decades ago, putting retiree archives and processing files under one roof that was both remote and secure made a lot of sense. But over time, a systematic lack of resources, combined with repeated failed attempts to automate and digitize, created the “sinkhole of bureaucracy” that is the federal retirement hub today.

Six years ago, the Government Accountability Office reported that the OPM’s retirement system was still plagued by a “continuing reliance on paper-based applications and manual processing.” The agency's average retirement file processing time was about 60 days in 2019, which is only a modest decrease from 1981, when it took 98 days, but the agency processed almost twice as many applications.

But David Carmicheal, who recently retired as state archivist of Pennsylvania and has corresponded with staff at the Boyers facility, tells WIRED it’s a mistake to only view OPM’s process as “woefully outdated.”

“Much of the work that goes on at Boyers, as I understand it, is digital, so the idea of people trundling piles of paper through dark mine shafts is absurd,” Carmicheal says. “In fact, these facilities are meant to protect you and me by protecting the records that safeguard our legal rights, our public benefits.”

When reached for comment, the Government Accountability Office referred WIRED to its most recent publications. The Office of Personnel Management did not respond to a request for comment.

Going Underground

The Civil Service Commission, the predecessor of the OPM, started mailing retirement files to Boyers in 1960 with the intent to archive them “forever.” The CSC was one of many agencies that took advantage of repurposed mines and caves during the Cold War, seeking enhanced protection for sensitive materials in the event of a nuclear catastrophe.

The Boyers mine was operational from 1902 to roughly 1959 under the helm of US Steel. When high operating costs and dwindling demand for limestone caused the business to decline in the 1950s, US Steel employee Larry Yont saw an opportunity to repurpose the site as a storage facility and, with the help of civil engineer and mine superintendent Russell Mitchell, went on to found National Underground Storage. It was later bought by the company Iron Mountain in 1998, which owns and leases the Boyers mine to this day.

Along with the Civil Service Commission, other federal agencies, including the National Archives, the Office of Civil Defense (the precursor to the Federal Emergency Management Agency), and the Social Security Administration began storing records in the Boyers facility around the same time. J. G. Franz, then office manager of the Boyers mine, told a newspaper reporter in 1966 that federal agencies have “backup equipment for everything” stored in a special area of Boyers to protect the records in the event of nuclear fallout.

Franz told a local newspaper that workers “hope we will never have to worry about a nuclear explosion,” but that if one happened, the mine would be safely sealed off, according to newspaper archives reviewed by WIRED. “The mine is equipped with a 30-day supply of food and supplies for all of the employees.”

At the time, the staff at Boyers were reportedly able to process about 600 pounds of records each day bussed to the facility straight from Washington, DC. They relied on the recently constructed interstate highway system for timely deliveries. In fact, the federal government built an exit off Pennsylvania’s Interstate 80 specifically for “quick access to the mine in case of an emergency,” according to an article in the Pittsburgh Press.

There are other practical benefits that make old mines a good place to store records. For one, their typically rural and secluded settings create a layer of natural security from other types of threats. Repurposed mines provide “excellent fire protection,” and immunity from events like “flood, theft, civil disorder, aircraft crashes, tornadoes, lightning,” noted a 1999 Iron Mountain presentation for the National Archives.

Carmichael tells WIRED that access to the underground facilities he’s visited tend to be tightly controlled, often through heavily guarded entrances. These facilities also frequently have maze-like designs that would likely discourage or confuse thieves if they somehow got inside.

Several current managers of repurposed limestone mines told WIRED that their caves are naturally between 55 and 70 degrees Fahrenheit, optimal temperature for most storage situations. John Smith, director of industrial real estate for the company that manages the limestone storage facility Carefree Industrial Park near Kansas City, Missouri, said that this means utility costs are “dramatically lower” compared to above-ground facilities. His main expenses are associated with ventilation, since caves tend to be very humid.

It All Goes Wrong

Shortly before the Civil Service Commission arrived at Boyers, the US federal retirement apparatus was a mess. A 1951 government report found that “an adequate record system” wasn’t even in place yet and urged Congress to “insist” one be created. At first, it seemed like the team at Boyers was able to turn things around. The News-Herald reported in 1966 that with just 55 employees, the system at the mine was operating “with the same efficiency and effectiveness as it used to in Washington, DC.”

However, as the number of retirees continued to climb, things fell into disarray. By the early 1980s, the Office of Personnel Management was being audited to find the root causes of excessive delays in processing retirement claims. In 1981, the Government Accountability Office recommended that OPM “develop a long-term plan for automating the retirement claims process.”

OPM tried to launch an automated system in 1987, only to shut it down in 1996 when it failed an independent review. It began planning a new system, but gave up in 2001 and decided to contract the work out. The contracts weren’t awarded until 2006. The system they eventually built, RetireEZ, was finally launched in 2008, but it too was promptly shut down due to “quality issues.”

Little progress was made until 2013, when OPM launched a new “strategic vision” for a totally “paperless system.” Around that time, the agency was able to partially digitize the retirement process, allowing retirees to receive 80 percent of their pension quickly. But to get the full value, physical files still had to go through Boyers, according to a 2014 feature story in The Washington Post.

By 2019, the Government Accountability Office reported that OPM didn’t have enough money to finish digitizing. The agency was then piloting what it called the Electronic Retirement Record system, which was supposed to replace hard copies altogether. As part of the improvements, OPM was also trying to fix “inconsistent data between electronic and paper records,” according to the Government Accountability Office. Boyers workers would sometimes have to track down the physical copies of records by navigating through what had become essentially a small city of shelves and files, or type up other files that weren’t digitized.

Despite all of these efforts, the OPM still hasn’t finished digitizing the retirement process. It’s been a decade since the agency updated its internal guide for processing retirement applications. The Government Accountability Office attributed the slow pace of progress to “the continuing reliance on paper-based applications and manual processing,” lack of staffing, and OPM frequently receiving incomplete submissions.

Musk and DOGE have defunded and started to hollow out a slew of government agencies. While the centibillionaire has identified Boyers as a prime example of government inefficiency, he hasn’t described a clear vision for fixing the retirement system.

Despite their shortcomings, Carmicheal tells WIRED that it’s important to remember why government bureaucracies and record-keeping systems were set up in the first place. “I’m just thankful that we have had a long history in this country of governments that care about protecting their citizens,” Carmichael says, “and that includes safeguarding the records that document our rights and the responsibility of governments toward us.”

[feminist-space]

"Just weeks before the implosion of AllHere, an education technology company that had been showered with cash from venture capitalists and featured in glowing profiles by the business press, America’s second-largest school district was warned about problems with AllHere’s product.

As the eight-year-old startup rolled out Los Angeles Unified School District’s flashy new AI-driven chatbot — an animated sun named “Ed” that AllHere was hired to build for $6 million — a former company executive was sending emails to the district and others that Ed’s workings violated bedrock student data privacy principles.

Those emails were sent shortly before The 74 first reported last week that AllHere, with $12 million in investor capital, was in serious straits. A June 14 statement on the company’s website revealed a majority of its employees had been furloughed due to its “current financial position.” Company founder and CEO Joanna Smith-Griffin, a spokesperson for the Los Angeles district said, was no longer on the job.

Smith-Griffin and L.A. Superintendent Alberto Carvalho went on the road together this spring to unveil Ed at a series of high-profile ed tech conferences, with the schools chief dubbing it the nation’s first “personal assistant” for students and leaning hard into LAUSD’s place in the K-12 AI vanguard. He called Ed’s ability to know students “unprecedented in American public education” at the ASU+GSV conference in April.

Through an algorithm that analyzes troves of student information from multiple sources, the chatbot was designed to offer tailored responses to questions like “what grade does my child have in math?” The tool relies on vast amounts of students’ data, including their academic performance and special education accommodations, to function.

Meanwhile, Chris Whiteley, a former senior director of software engineering at AllHere who was laid off in April, had become a whistleblower. He told district officials, its independent inspector general’s office and state education officials that the tool processed student records in ways that likely ran afoul of L.A. Unified’s own data privacy rules and put sensitive information at risk of getting hacked. None of the agencies ever responded, Whiteley told The 74.

...

In order to provide individualized prompts on details like student attendance and demographics, the tool connects to several data sources, according to the contract, including Welligent, an online tool used to track students’ special education services. The document notes that Ed also interfaces with the Whole Child Integrated Data stored on Snowflake, a cloud storage company. Launched in 2019, the Whole Child platform serves as a central repository for LAUSD student data designed to streamline data analysis to help educators monitor students’ progress and personalize instruction.

Whiteley told officials the app included students’ personally identifiable information in all chatbot prompts, even in those where the data weren’t relevant. Prompts containing students’ personal information were also shared with other third-party companies unnecessarily, Whiteley alleges, and were processed on offshore servers. Seven out of eight Ed chatbot requests, he said, are sent to places like Japan, Sweden, the United Kingdom, France, Switzerland, Australia and Canada.

Taken together, he argued the company’s practices ran afoul of data minimization principles, a standard cybersecurity practice that maintains that apps should collect and process the least amount of personal information necessary to accomplish a specific task. Playing fast and loose with the data, he said, unnecessarily exposed students’ information to potential cyberattacks and data breaches and, in cases where the data were processed overseas, could subject it to foreign governments’ data access and surveillance rules.

Chatbot source code that Whiteley shared with The 74 outlines how prompts are processed on foreign servers by a Microsoft AI service that integrates with ChatGPT. The LAUSD chatbot is directed to serve as a “friendly, concise customer support agent” that replies “using simple language a third grader could understand.” When querying the simple prompt “Hello,” the chatbot provided the student’s grades, progress toward graduation and other personal information.

AllHere’s critical flaw, Whiteley said, is that senior executives “didn’t understand how to protect data.”

...

Earlier in the month, a second threat actor known as Satanic Cloud claimed it had access to tens of thousands of L.A. students’ sensitive information and had posted it for sale on Breach Forums for $1,000. In 2022, the district was victim to a massive ransomware attack that exposed reams of sensitive data, including thousands of students’ psychological evaluations, to the dark web.

With AllHere’s fate uncertain, Whiteley blasted the company’s leadership and protocols.

“Personally identifiable information should be considered acid in a company and you should only touch it if you have to because acid is dangerous,” he told The 74. “The errors that were made were so egregious around PII, you should not be in education if you don’t think PII is acid.”

Read the full article here:

https://www.the74million.org/article/whistleblower-l-a-schools-chatbot-misused-student-data-as-tech-co-crumbled/

[lostinhistory]

Heritage News of the Week

Discoveries!

An ancient Roman shrine room was discovered during recent excavations by archaeologists at the Pompeii Archaeological Park. The 86-square-foot sacrarium features painted blue walls decorated with female figures depicting the four seasons of the year, along with allegories of agriculture and shepherding. The room’s color is notably rare, and would have demarcated it as a place of importance for ritual activities and storing sacred objects.

Archaeologists uncover crypts of the Primates of Poland

The crypts contain the tombs of Henryk Firlej (1574–1626), Andrzej Leszczyński (1608-1658), and Wacław Leszczyński (1605-1666), each of whom served as archbishop of Gniezno, a city in central-western Poland.

Female burial found among 23 warrior monks of the Order of Calatrava in Guadalajara

According to the study, published in the journal Scientific Reports, the 23 warrior monks were knights of the order that died in battle between the 12th and 15th century. A total of 25 skeletons were exhumed, with 23 showing signs of penetrating puncture wounds and blunt force injuries, suggesting they died a violent death. The remains of a woman were also found among the burials, showing injuries that suggest she died in a similar manner.

Rare medieval gaming pieces found in German castle

Archaeologists have discovered several sets of rare medieval gaming pieces during excavations of a previously unknown castle complex at Burgstein in Southern Germany. Among the discoveries are preserved chess pieces, game pieces and a dice, all dating from the 11th to 12th centuries AD.

That horse has seen some things

Humans didn't domesticate horses until 4,200 years ago — a millennium later than thought

Humans domesticated horses 1,000 years later than previously thought, first for access to their meat and milk and then for their transportation capabilities, a new study of ancient horse DNA suggests.

Infant burials found under prehistoric “dragon stone”

Excavations have revealed a burial pit beneath the stone which dates from the 16th century BC. Within the pit are two infant burials, in which a study of their DNA has showed them to be second-degree related females with identical mitochondrial sequences, indicating that the infants are closely related.

18th-century lime kiln uncovered in Northern England

A limestone kiln has been uncovered on a farm in North York Moors National Park. The structure likely dates to the eighteenth century.

Archaeologists uncover Roman traces of Vibo Valentia

Archaeologists from the Superintendent of Archaeology Fine Arts and Landscape have made several major discoveries during excavations of Roman Vibo Valentia at the Urban Archaeological Park.

Study shows Bronze Age cauldrons held blood and milk

According to a statement released by the University of Basel, an international team of scientists has analyzed proteins recovered from residues in two 2,700-year-old bronze cauldrons discovered in northern Mongolia. The test results indicate that the vessels were used to process animal blood, mostly from sheep and goats, and milk, mostly from domestic cattle and yaks.

2,000-year-old rock art, including nearly 140-foot-long snake, may mark ancient territories in Colombia, Venezuela

Archaeologists have fully mapped a series of ancient rock art in Venezuela and Colombia, including the world's largest monumental engraving, using photography and drone footage.

Roman pet burials examined in Egypt

According to a Science in Poland report, the graves of more than 200 monkeys, dogs, cats, and calves have been recently unearthed by an international team of researchers led by Marta Osypińska of the University of Wrocław in the pet cemetery at Berenice, a port city built on the coast of the Red Sea in the first century A.D. Osypińska said that most of the monkeys had been wrapped in fabrics and placed in the graves as if they had been sleeping on their sides, covered in blankets, with their paws next to their faces. Opalescent shells rags, a cow’s tail, collars, harnesses, and the remains of a piglet and kittens were also found in the monkeys’ graves. Meanwhile, the remains of two calves were found at the bottom of two large pits in the cemetery. Both of their heads had been smeared with ocher, and a large amphora fragment had been placed over the head of the older calf.

Scenes of warriors from 6th century BC on a slate plaque discovered at Tartessian site in Spain

Archaeologists representing Spain’s National Research Council (CSIC) excavating at the archaeological site of Casas del Turunuelo have uncovered a slate plaque about 20 centimeters engraved on both sides where various motifs can be identified. The slate plaque includes drawing exercises, a battle scene involving three characters, and repeated depictions of faces or geometric figures. According to early indications, this rare find in Guareña (Badajoz, Spain) may have supported the engraver as they carved designs into pieces of wood, ivory, or gold.

Bones of early cattle herd in northern Europe analyzed

According to a statement released by Antiquity, new dates and stable isotope analysis for the bones of cattle, sheep, and pigs from the Swifterbant site indicate that animal husbandry in what is now the Netherlands dates back to about 4240 B.C.

Archaeologists find a necropolis of stillborn babies

Archaeologists have found stillborn babies and infants burials in the necropolis who are placed in ceramic containers and wooden coffins, or beneath amphora fragments and long curved tiles. In one example, a grave is marked with a stone engraved with a rosette.

Viking Age 'treasure' discovered by metal detectorist on Isle of Man

John Smart discovered the 1,000-year-old, finger-sized sliver of metal while exploring the island, which sits in the Irish Sea between Northern Ireland and England, according to a statement from Manx National Heritage.

Museums

A man who holds the Guinness World Record for the largest collection of fossilised poo, has opened a museum showcasing his treasures. The museum in Williams, Arizona - aptly called Poozeum - boasts it houses thousands of fossilised faeces including one of the largest ever found. Founder George Frandsen says he was motivated by the "glaring absence of coprolite [fossilised poop] representation" in museums.

💩💩💩

Monet painting at the Musée d’Orsay vandalized by climate activist

A climate activist affixed an adhesive poster to a Monet painting at the Musée d’Orsay Saturday. The woman, who said she intended to raise awareness for climate change, was arrested.

Provincial Spanish town challenges cities by showing 120 Renaissance works

In an elegant but unfinished basilica 100 miles from Madrid as the crow – or in this case the stork – flies, some of the hidden and long-dispersed religious treasures of the Spanish Renaissance have been gathered together for an unlikely and potentially pioneering exhibition.

‘We thought it was erotic postcards’: Madrid museum exhibits 1920s couple’s intimate photos

It was only by chance that the artist-curator David Trullo was working on a temporary installation at Madrid’s National Museum of Decorative Arts on the day in 2017 that a sealed case, unopened for 80 years, arrived from the ministry of finance. With no means of tracing the original owner or their family, it had lain in a bureaucratic and financial limbo until sufficient time had passed for its opening to be legally permissible. The contents of this inadvertent and startling time capsule are now the subject of an exhibition, Álbum de Salón y Alcoba (The Bedroom and Dressing Room Album) installed by Trullo at the museum as part of Photoespaña, the city’s annual celebration of photography.

Repatriation

The British Museum said it is interested in “realistic solutions” to its ownership dispute with Greece over the Parthenon Marbles following a UNESCO conference in which a representative of Turkey took aim at England’s claim to the contested sculptures.

Turkish official says no record of legitimate sale of the Parthenon Marbles

A Turkish official has added fresh fuel to the fire over the Parthenon Marbles debate, questioning the existence of proof long cited by Britain that it had legally acquired the 2,500-year-old sculptures taken from the Acropolis in Athens.

👀

Oxford University to return 500-year-old sculpture of Hindu saint to India

A statement for the Ashmolean said: “On 11 March 2024 the council of the University of Oxford supported a claim from the Indian high commission for the return of a 16th-century bronze sculpture of saint Tirumankai Alvar from the Ashmolean Museum. This decision will now be submitted to the Charity Commission for approval.”

Lawsuit over allegedly Nazi-looted Van Gogh dismissed

A federal court earlier this month dismissed a lawsuit against the Japanese company Sompo Holdings surrounding Vincent van Gogh’s Sunflowers (1888), which the heirs of a German Jewish banker said had been looted by the Nazis.

Two 17th century paintings looted by Nazis are donated to the Louvre by Jewish heirs

Floris van Schooten’s Still-Life with Ham and Peter Binoit’s Food, Fruit and Glass on a Table had been part of the Louvre’s Nordic collection for several decades and held under the “National Museum Recuperation” programme for stolen works whose owners are unknown, according to France 24. The two paintings had also been on display at the institution since the 1950s.

MFA Houston can keep contested Nazi-looted Bernardo Bellotto painting: US Appeals Court

The legal dispute stems from a misidentification by a foundation established by the Dutch government, which sent the wrong painting — the Bellotto — to a Nazi loot claimant after the end of the war. In 2021, three of Emden’s heirs filed a lawsuit based on the misidentification.

Heritage at risk

A Dutch tourist has been accused of defacing a wall in an ancient Roman villa in Herculaneum, an ancient city that was buried under lava along with Pompeii in 79 AD. He has been charged with damage and defacement of artistic works. The 27-year-old man tagged the wall with his graffiti signature using a black marker, according to Italian police. Reports state that the tourist was apprehended shortly after staff at the archaeological site discovered the graffiti.

For the fuck of shit

Odds and ends

A team of archaeologists are searching for the home of Sir Arthur Haselrig, a leader of the Parliamentary opposition to Charles I, and whose attempted arrest sparked the English Civil War.

Louis Vuitton accused of cultural appropriation of Romanian blouse

Romania’s minister of culture has said she will ask Louis Vuitton to acknowledge the seemingly Romanian roots of a blouse included in its 2024 collection, after the French luxury fashion house was accused of “cultural appropriation”. Earlier this week La Blouse Roumaine, an online collective dedicated to promoting the intricately embroidered Romanian blouse known as the ie, called out Louis Vuitton for “violating the cultural rights” of several communities after it debuted a similar blouse without acknowledging its status as a symbol of Romania’s folk culture.

Mastermind of ‘Canada’s largest art fraud’ guilty of peddling fake Norval Morrisseau works

On June 6, David Voss plead guilty to one charge of forgery and one charge of uttering forged documents, in this case the fake provenance materials he used while operating an art fraud ring between 1996 and 2019. Based in the northern Ontario city of Thunder Bay, Voss oversaw the production of thousands of artworks falsely attributed to Anishinaabe artist Norval Morrisseau. Notably, it was a “paint by numbers” assembly process that helped investigators identify 26 out of 30 suspected works.

‘I thought I might have to go on without you’: a love story told in 12 D-day letters

The horrors endured by the armed forces during the second world war are well documented. But less is known about the suffering of the women and children they left behind. As the 80th anniversary of D-day approaches, a recently discovered box of letters gives fresh insight into what it was like for those at home, waiting for news.

Smallest known great ape, which lived 11m years ago, found in Germany

The smallest known great ape has been discovered in Germany, dating to 11m years ago. The tiny creature, far smaller than any other great ape on record, is estimated to have weighed 10kg (1st 8lbs), about the size of a human toddler. The species, called Buronius manfredschmidi, is an ancient hominid, part of the ancestral family that gave rise to modern humans, gorillas and chimpanzees.

Prehistoric 'giant goose' skull found in Australia

The skull belongs to a now extinct giant flightless bird that weighed 230kg (36 stone) - about five times as much as an emu. The 45,000- to 50,000-year- old fossil is the most complete skull of a Genyornis newtoni to have been discovered.

Three boys left ‘completely speechless’ after finding T rex bone in North Dakota

Two young brothers and their cousin say they were “completely speechless” when they came across a Tyrannosaurus rex bone poking out of the ground while out for a jaunt in the North Dakota badlands.

New study exposes origins of Welsh dragons

In a new study conducted by a team from the University of Bristol and published in the Proceedings of the Geologists’ Association, crucial details about the early Welsh dinosaurs have been unveiled for the first time.

And then there's Jimmy, for some reason weighing in on a story from 2022 with the misguided confidence that only a guy on twitter can have.

No it's not, and no they won't

[lboogie1906]

Rekia Boyd November 5, 1989 - March 21, 2012) a woman was murdered by Dante Servin, a white off-duty Chicago police detective, who contributed to the Black Lives Matter Movement. Her death came under questionable circumstances.

She was born in Chicago. She moved with her family to Dolton, Illinois. On March 21, 2012, she was hanging out with friends at Douglas Park on Chicago’s West Side at a party, listening to music while having a few drinks. Around 1:00 am, she and some of her friends walked to a nearby liquor store. Servin was just finishing his shift at his second job. He was off duty, heading to a fast food restaurant for a hamburger, but Servin drove to Douglas Park after a citizen called police about a noise complaint. Servin saw her and her friends and claimed they were arguing in an alley. Whether Servin calmly approached her and her friends or was rude and aggressive is still debated. One of her friends, Antonio Cross, claimed that Servin attempted to buy drugs from the group. When Cross told Servin to “get his crackhead ass out of here,” Servin pulled a gun, stuck it out of the window of his car, and fired into the group, hitting her in the head. She was instantly killed, and Cross was shot in the hand.

After the shooting, the Chicago Police Department defended Servin’s actions and arrested Cross. The police department claimed that Servin had discharged his weapon after Cross had approached him with a gun. Upon investigation, it was discovered that Cross was holding a cell phone.

In November 2013, Servin was charged with involuntary manslaughter. On April 20, 2015, he was cleared of all charges following a bench trial by Judge Dennis J. Porter. On November 24, 2015, Mayor Rahm Emanuel and Police Superintendent Garry McCarthy called for Dante Servin to be fired by the Chicago Police Board. On May 17, 2016, Servin resigned from the police force. The city of Chicago also paid $4.5 million to her family. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence #blm