#checkmate silicone

[kandicon]

They don't want you to know this, but it's actually infinitely cheaper to buy a pack of baby teething silicone beads and make your own chewelry than to get the fancy stuff with a billion flowery words of performative support for autistic people without mentioning anyone else who might use chewlry in the place of a product description. Can't confirm whether it's more or less durable, but it is like a tenth of the price, easy to replace, and my chewlry is made of fun unicorns rather than a depressing brick. Checkmate capitalists.

[lunesprite]

@dca-prompts

I tripped. Dear anon, I think they might still bite each other, but I hope you like this <3 2884 unedited words total, mostly under the cut.

__________

It started as not quite what you’d call a dare. 

More of an… ante up. 

Everyone knows the Daycare Attendants. They’re… a lot. That’s really the only word for it. A manic amount of energy all wound up in springs and titanium in one, and in the other? 

If you’re over the age of 13, honestly, he’s a dick. 

You would laugh if you weren’t also over the age of 13 and didn’t have to man the gift shop three days a week, which meant spending a few hours those days, when all the daycare lights dimmed, pointedly ignoring the jackass with his face pressed to the glass just waiting to freak you out while the kids snoozed. 

That was normally as far as it went. The most dangerous part of your shift would be walking by the jumpscare enclosure on the way out or to sneak in a bathroom break, and you refuse to admit how many times he got you. You’d think it’d be easy to see the gigantic robot with the glowing eyes and stars everywhere coming, but no! Whoever made him had really gone out of their way to program the child caretaker to be a goddamn master of stealth. 

And then. 

Then. 

It snowed out. 

Heavy enough that the daycare was left empty and you were pretty sure the plex was only still open out of sheer stubbornness, which left you and your neighboring menace - Sun excluded - alone. No children to watch and no messes to clean up for either of you. 

The shelves in Lucky Stars had never been so dust-free. 

Every pile of merch was immaculate. The shirts - folded and sized. Even the clearance designs. 

Even Sun was feeling it. The poor guy had already sorted all the building blocks and started organizing the barrels by color. You were considering knocking on the door and offering to play Uno before he sorted the ball pit when the overhead lights dimmed and you let your eyes slide away from the Mayor of Bastard City and his blinking red eyes and back to the keychains near the register. 

You heard the tell-tale scrape of claws on thick glass. The creepy jack-in-the-box tune he liked to wind up if you walked too slow past his enclosure. You glanced over and saw those beacon-bright eyes peering over the side of the wall, heard him snicker as he slowly sank down, down into the darkness, before you hummed and went back to sorting old Bonnies. Vaguely, you saw him pacing. Scuttling around, dangling on his wire, thumping himself into the wall like a dead thing, but otherwise? Ignorable. Standard. Did he think this was your first rodeo? Hell no. 

The silence didn’t last. 

With no children to rein him in, Moon made a new sound: a fucking horrid mechanical death rattle that stopped you in your tracks. 

It sounded like a car on its last, last legs. Like a zombie of a car, dragged back from death by a cruel mechanic who knew no limits and left his morals and half the important car-bits back on the side of the highway three states back. You winced, glaring at him until he stopped with a gleeful giggle and a waggle of his sinful claws. 

“Sounds like shit, man. Good job.” 

“Language.” 

“We’re all adults here, Moonie. And,” you said, turning towards him and signing slowly, deliberately, watching his pupils watch your hands with an ever-more mischievous hiss. “Don’t think I didn’t look up what this meant.” 

He snickered, face spinning lazily above his cheshire grin. 

“Naughty.” 

“You did it first.” 

And then, because you weren’t about to lose this by giving him any more of what he wanted, you looked him dead in the eyes and put in your headphones with a thumbs up. 

Checkmate. He could glower all he wanted. No metal death screams were getting through these bad boys. 

It did work. It did. 

Moon paced like a bored tiger in a zoo, hunched and stalking and dragging his face against the glass. It probably sounded awful. Like nails on a chalkboard, but with metal and silicon shrieks and squeals! 

And you heard none of it. :) 

You were feeling very clever, very triumphant, until you finished all the fiddly bits that decorated the register area and turned, ready to move onto new frontiers - 

The daycare door was open. 

Cracked just enough for you to notice. Just enough you could imagine the stock horror game sound of the hinges creaking in the dark. And, as your eyes slid downwards, you noticed… toys on the floor. Blocks, a plastic ball, a little stuffed Sun. 

All laid in a perfectly spaced trail from the cracked door to the edge of your half-lit shop, where there sat a single, raggedy plush of Moon. Barely a foot away. 

Your headphones crackled. 

Beeehiiiind you, liiittle ssstar. 

A hand, too large and too sharp, settled across your shoulder. 

You did not scream. You will never admit it.  

You lunged to the nearest plush, lit crimson as cackling crackled inside your headphones and outside, and whirled around to beat that goddamn robot to death. 

It did NOT work. At all. He was fast. Bounding on all fours, springing up the walls and deflecting your projectiles with giant plush versions of himself as he laughed and laughed and laughed, always just an inch away, slipping through your fingers as you called him every foul-mouthed minced curse under the fucking sun until you ran out of breath. Chest heaving, fingers clenched around the ragged little Moon, you glared up at your personal demon as he pranced atop the daycare wall like the world’s most kickable imp. 

The shop was a wreck. 

And then he paused, stupid head turning towards the lobby. And fell backwards into the darkness as you glanced at the stairs to see - your coworker, paused and gaping at the disaster zone behind you and your own distinctly rumpled uniform. 

The Moon squeaked in your fist. 

“Is uh,” she said, eyes wide as she took in the wreckage and you, alone, Moon nowhere in sight. “Is everything going ok in here?” 

You exhaled. 

A laugh hissed in your headphones, low and utterly pleased, and you slipped them off and into your jacket pocket with your best beatific smile as you stood straight. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted him: Moon swayed in the air above the daycare on his wire, hands folded beneath his head like a sleeping angel. 

Your coworker stared at you like a madman. 

You lost. Miserably. 

And what could you do about it? All bets were off; the wall of the daycare breached, your game thrown into disarray. 

Except… 

You glanced down at the Moon in your hands. Ratty and rumpled, it must have been a few product lines out of date even before you started. A single bell clung valiantly to its hat. 

You laughed. Before your coworker could wonder - completely incorrectly - if you’d snapped at last, the daycare theme having driven you to the depths of madness, you beamed at her. 

“It’s peachy! Just peachy.” 

She did not look convinced. 

“Are… you sure? Do you need uh… I can probably give you a 15 instead of a 10…?” 

Bless her heart. 

“That’d be great!” You waved lightly back towards the shop. “Don’t worry about cleanup, I’ll get it when I get back! There’s just one itty bitty thing before I go?” 

“... Yesssss?” 

You held up the ratty Moon. It jangled innocently, your coworker flinching like it might explode. 

“Can I buy this before I go on break?” 

Far above, Moon’s smooth swaying on his wire stuttered. Bingo. 

With as much saccharine sweetness as you could muster, you squash the tiny Moon in a hug, cheek pressed to plush cheek. 

“I gotta get something of my new bestie after all!” 

Your coworker’s incredulous disbelief and your total loss of dignity was worth it as Moon tumbled down his stupid fucking wire, red eyes locked on you in mute shock as right in front of the glass, you gave that dingy plush a kiss on the cheek. 

Ante up, bitch. 

It became your new weapon. 

Whenever Moon acted out particularly badly - though you never had a repeat of him slipping his bounds, and neither of you acknowledged it after - then on your break, you’d look him in the optics and buy whatever bit of Moon merch was next on your list. 

Was it escalating? Yes. 

You’d gotten every keychain. Your bag jangled with the things. Sun spotted it one day and you saw him actually stumble. It was cute watching him talk around the Moon-laden bag in the other room when you brought him some desperately needed supplies he’d somehow forgotten he still had entire fabric storage cubes of. 

It was fine. You didn’t mind. It gave you a chance to go fetch your bag and show off your collection. 

(Did you feel a little guilty then? Yes. But you were committed to the goddamn bit and like hell would you break for even a second.) 

Your favorite Moon was the little cat Moon keychain, but the one from the stray Halloween collection box you’d unearthed in the back was mad cute, too. 

And now? You were working through the plushes. The shirts. You’d organized the list by price point. With every purchase, Moon’s eyes got just a little bit wider. His laugh a little softer. Almost - if you dared say it - flustered. 

Almost… charming? 

The kids noticed. 

The ratty Moon sat beside your register, a name tag pinned to his re-stitched torso. A Moon sticker decorated your own name tag - along with a Sun added by the big man himself. You found an old starry version of the plex polo. When the winter beanies arrived - notably weeks after it began to snow -, you were the first one to slam down the cash for the Moon and Sun themed one. It was reversible. It looked like something a ye olde jester would wear. A bell jangled from the tip. 

It was unironically cute as hell. 

The kids went nuts. The child size range sold out almost the same day, in no small part due to your completely definitely as a bit enthusiastic recommendation in jingling around the shop. When the lights went out, the kids all clamored to show Moon their new hats, too, like they’d done for Sun, and you’d never heard such a joyous but utterly failed ‘naptime.’ 

Moon jingled after all the little giggling stars, and you watched, hand on your chin, as he scrabbled up the jungle gym like a big cat. 

So what if when he looked towards you and wiggled his claws, you wiggled your fingers back. It was… it reminded you of the keychain. The cat one, with a paw up like. You know, nya~. 

Your coworkers definitely thought you cracked, but you didn’t really care? So what if they talked when they relieved you for your break in the dark and you and Moon took turns skulking behind the walls, trying to spook one another? You did get him once. 

When they sarcastically asked about you and your wretched bestie, you didn’t even flinch. 

Why would you? He was your bestie. 

Lucky Stars was your shift now. Which worked out great! It gave you even more chances to show off what you’d get next. Since, uh. Fazbear didn’t pay that much, and the big plushes and the honestly sick hoodies they released were definitely a more ‘save up a bit’ kind of purchase. 

Even Sun chimed in sometimes. 

He agreed you should do the hoodie next. It was reversible, too. It was also completely obnoxious - the colors a complete circus riot, though Sun gasped and called it cheerful instead. 

Of course, the day you bought it - you made puppy eyes at the Glamrock Gifts cashier so you could start your shift already wearing it because it had the ruffles and bells included, come on -, it snowed again. Parents trailed in remnants of muddy slush in their trek to fetch their kids, pausing when you greeted them with the mop bucket nearby as Sun waved from behind the glass. Your hoodie matched him. You weren’t an amateur. It obviously wasn’t time for the starry side yet. 

For some reason, they thought you were an attendant. 

(Nah. You just knew Sun would worry his rays off if folks kept trailing muddy water up to his doors.) 

By naptime, it was just the two of you left. 

You’d dragged the mop bucket and a sweet little wet floor bot in from the lobby and set about cleaning your gift shop of any stray mud tracked in and glanced up as the place went dim and the stars overhead twinkled on. 

And paused. 

Neither of you had ever mentioned that time, and you’d never gone inside the daycare proper when it was naptime. But… wouldn’t it be great to show off the new hoodie up close? It was rad. The glow in the dark star prints wouldn’t glow since, you know, it’d been turned towards the inside, but the whole bell and ruffle situation would still be fun, right? 

The wet floor bot beeped up at you. 

With a grin, you patted its head and stowed the mop in the bucket, leaning in carefully before you stepped back. 

“Gotta go show off my latest, little guy.” You gestured towards the daycare, and the bot beeped again. Taking its blessing, you trotted off. 

Towards the doors. Which, before you even reached them, creaked open. 

Moon was nowhere to be seen. 

You stopped at the threshold, exaggeratedly peering in, hunting for him and ‘forgetting’ to look up before giving up with a shrug and a sigh. 

“Man. Here I was, hoping to show Moon my fun new hoodie, and my best friend isn’t even here to appreciate it?” 

Jingle. 

You grinned. Humming, you leant further into the daycare, as if the jingling wasn’t very obviously behind you. 

“Moooon? Hey, has anyone seen a big, lanky animatronic?” You telegraphed your turn so clearly, it’s no surprise Moon has vanished when you look back at the wet floor bot. It waggled its ears, beeping. “Any clue where he went, little guy?” 

Jingle jingle. 

This time when clawed hands curled around your shoulders, you didn’t jump. Or when Moon melted against your back, hat dangling down to jingle against your ear. You just. Went still. That’s all. 

You’d never been this close to one of them before. Not even Sun. 

Little whirrs and ticking sounds buzzed against your spine. 

So he’s… Decided to up the ante himself, huh? Well now! It’ll take more than that. 

You turned in his grip, stretching your arms to your sides as you come face to face with your. Bestie. Suspended upside down on the wire with his face right side up, inches away from yours; the shine of his eyes was low, dimmed, his claws picking idly at the thick ‘ruffle’ across your shoulders. 

“Whatcha think?” 

“Too bright.” He tugged at a tiny bell. His other hand slipped behind your neck, pulling the hoodie’s hood inside-out past your cheek. “This side’s better.” 

The stars inside the hood glimmered, glowing a little - much to your surprise. Though you guess if any part of it was going to glow, then… 

You grinned. 

“Guess I’ll just have to swap it around then for the totally unbiased audience?” 

Now. 

You were ready to swap it. You were ready to awkwardly worm around with his arms still around you, since, well. You didn’t realize he could commit to the bit with the same dedication as you, but of course he could, and his hands were not moving. But you weren’t gonna back down. Hell no. 

You were not, however, ready for him to hum. 

Or for his fingers to slide to the neck of your hoodie and slip it off your shoulders. 

He handled it with the same ease he would helping a kid into their coat. The hoodie’s larger stars across the back shone in the low light, not glowing but still glistening as Moon held up your hoodie before his eyes with a pleased noise. 

Half light, half dark. Like his own paint. 

It was really well designed. 

Though you found you were having a hard time focusing on it, for some reason. 

His eyes flicked to you. 

“Up.” 

On autopilot, you raised your arms. He tugged it back onto you, fingers smoothing the ruffles down across your shoulders, before just. Hanging there. Close. 

Like, really close? 

Like. He made this odd little hum? His hands stayed on your shoulders long after the ruffles had been tamed. His arms twitched, slipping further across your shoulders. 

Something felt. Weirdly warm in your chest. 

And then he tugged the hood up over your head - down over your eyes with a little laugh, and something hard bonked into your forehead. Just once. 

“Looks good, Starlight.” 

And he was gone. 

You swore, rubbing your forehead as you yanked the hood back, trying to find him but to no avail, though you… didn’t know what you would have said. All the bluster had left the building. 

Somehow, you think. 

You might have lost the bet.

Moon trying so hard not to laugh or hug Y/N while Y/N is buying a fuck ton of Moon merchandise

ㅤ

[tantus]

Baby, it is cold outside...luckily, we have the solution to keep you warm and full!

The Bishop is one of our largest toys, with a length of 11 inches and a weight of 2 lbs 12 oz, it's made to wow your holes.

https://www.tantusinc.com/collections/large-toys/products/bishop

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

@argumate​‘s more or less unbearable liveblog ​of the Hedge Campus debacle can, if anything, be apocryphal, since it never actually happened (as far as anyone can tell) and the character of Robin Hanson (or whatever his name was) never became verified or something.  But there are a lot of false bottoms and other unpleasant parts of the blog that make me intensely uncomfortable, and if it were possible to block access to them I would, because what on earth does this person want with me?

(I can also report that the reason I can never seem to stop thinking about this subject is “progressive Silicon Valley has brought us wonderful tools for getting information we don’t want to compromise our security for, but also terrible commentary on intellectual freedom” and I am too stuck in the mists of sleep deprivation to realize this, but checkmate)

[theentiredsm]

Below are two versions of the same poem. The original is first.  I wrote the new version as part of a creative writing assignment. Which do you like better?

Chess - February 2018

Are you cold?

Don’t worry—

I have some chocolate to

Warm you back up if the Dementors

Stay too long.

Are you falling?

Don’t worry—

I’ll weave a net from my fingers and hair

And string it from Mt. Everest to give you

A soft place to land.

You brought a crystal chess set to the park.

Said you wanted to play, but when a 

Retired grandmaster with a white beard and

Cardigan took your pawn, it fell over and

Shattered. And you shed a tear and

It splashed over the weeping shards,

And you didn’t mean for your hand

To knock over the King but you didn’t

Mind it either. And when the bearded

Man left for a game of backgammon

With a cancer kid, it was only fate

That I walked by with a tube of

Krazy Glue and a book on how

Chess pieces shatter. I sat

Across from you at the concrete

Table and opened the book to page

185: Mending a bruised ego.

You picked up piece #39742

But I shook my head when you

Asked for the glue. That piece goes

On #11, not #1269213, I told you.

You asked how I knew so much

About repairing chess pieces,

And I gave all credit to the book.

Then we both raised our eyebrows,

Because we realized the page we were on

Was blank.

As was the next.

And the next.

And…

I knocked over your queen when I

Moved to grab piece #2912478.

I tried to hide the brokenness with my hand

But you noticed the blood and the smile

Like the one I had when I woke to find

The sun was still on sabbatical.

And you took my hand and smiled too, and didn’t

Mind the smear of red I left on you.

Then it was my turn to cry: when I

Realized I couldn’t be everything I heard

When I was alone in the dark. But it’s okay,

You said. You have chocolate too,

White chocolate. And some days it will

Be sweet and some bitter and some sour.

Like mine. It’s okay, you said. A net

Made of two kinds of hair is more than

Twice as strong. The water is inside

Your eyes now, swirling like the reservoir

Drain out at Lake Dixon—like a toilet, but

That’s a bad image. I look down at the

Pawn and find it isn’t broken anymore.

Neither is the queen.

The board shrinks to fit in your pocket.

You ask if I’m cold. I nod.

So you move to put your arm around me. Chess - May 2018

You were the quintessential American Girl

I watched from the coarse grass and shade of an oak tree:

All smiles and idealism and red hair bows

And frilly, knee-high white dresses to let flow

In spring breezes. All hope and no common-sense or realism.

Your name could have been Chelsea, maybe Katie or Lindsey

Or anything else we call a “white people name”

These days. You were someone I could have met

Walking down Main Street in Freedom, USA,  

But instead, I saw your sun-gold hair caress the determination

In your eyes as you strode toward the park’s checkered tables

And the players seated pensively on either side.

  You had crystallized your dreams into a chess set,

Told the smirking strategists that your place was the Big Leagues,

The Champion’s Circle along with Bobby Fischer.

Under the spider web shadows of the oak branches,

You stood unshakable in your skills, bellowing a challenge.

Your gaze was the kind of certainty in a child’s

Insistence that they know how to read a psychology textbook.

I had heard something similar from my own mouth

More than once, so I “hmmed” and stared and speculated

When you approached a retired grandmaster wearing a white beard

And a cardigan emblazoned with the phrase “that’s life.”

  Noticing your face fall within the first five moves,

I couldn’t help but think his sweater might be a metaphor.

By move seven, you’d tasted checkmate, but not bitten it yet.  

In move nine, he took your final pawn with such force

That it fell over and shattered. You shed a tear that splashed

Over the pawn’s shards, and amid the soup of saline

And splintered silicon, the crystal clarity of your dreams

Became cloudy and indistinct. I could see through your eyes

As salt and defeat stung them, as you knocked you king

Aside through the shroud. And though you assured the grandmaster

You didn’t mean to resign, I had a feeling you didn’t mind it either.

  When you bowed your head, the bearded man followed suit

Before leaving for a game of backgammon with a cancer kid.

I took your shaking sobs as my cue—after all, I’m the hero

Who wrote the book on broken dreams. Who could help but me?

I sat across from you at the concrete table, a tube of Krazy Glue in hand,

And offered help from a man with more knowledge of chess piece dreams

Than anyone alive. After your heaving chest slowed, you assented

With gratitude through still-sparkling lashes.

  By the time I had assembled the pawn’s base, you’d salvaged

Pieces 4,500 and 324, but I refused when you asked for the glue.

Both those pieces go on number 3,755, I told you.

When you wondered how I knew so much about chess piece dreams,

I asked if you’d like to see the book I’d written. At your nod,

I produced a mini Bible-sized journal with tissue-thin pages.

But as I flipped through before turning it to you, I realized

That every page was blank. That I had never written a word.

That I had only mended the pawn base by accident.

You stretched up in your seat, nearly spotted the emptiness.

In my haste to cover the proof of my ignorance,

I flung my arms over the book, and sent your queen tumbling.

  You started at the shattering sound, and I scrambled to cover my error.

I slapped a hand across the queen’s new pieces, felt a thousand

Tiny cuts shred my palm, seep sanguine into the saline and silicon.

Staring at the mini sea of blood, tears, and broken glass, I realized

That I would be of no help to you. That my book and your chess set

Were the same—indistinct, overconfident dreams, the only difference

Being that yours were broken and mine were blank. That in my haste to help,

I too was a child “reading” a psychology textbook. It was my turn to cry:

When I knew I knew too little to be the hero you needed.

  But you noticed. You noticed the blood and the smile

Like I had when I woke to find the sun was still on sabbatical.

You took my shredded hand and smiled, too, and didn’t mind

The smear of red I left on you. It’s okay, you told me. They say

You shouldn’t meet your heroes, anyway. It’s okay, you told me.

We’ll learn to fix the pieces together, and when we’ve finished,

We’ll write a book together too, one far more beautiful for it. It’s okay,

You told me. The bearded man left a scar, but also a lesson and a message.

  Maybe, you told me, gluing dreams isn’t the solution, then threw the bottle

Across the field. Wafts of spring air welcomed the scent of peonies.

Maybe, you told me, we’re to wait until the wind makes dreams anew.

  The tendrils of wind wound together to create a dust devil

Amid the mess on the table. I felt the moisture whisked

From my hand and into the cloud of broken glass that swirled

Three feet into the air. When the current subsided, the gold

Of your hair seemed colder, more muted, but not gone—

Transferred to your eyes, which now seemed a twinge wiser.

I looked down at the pawn to find it wasn’t broken anymore.

Neither was the queen. Each, instead, was different, rougher,

No longer perfect but far more pristine. They looked like stained glass,

As they should have—patchworks of their component blood and tears.

  Still smiling, you tapped the first page of my book. I looked down

To find that it, too, had changed. A single line now stared back—

One I didn’t write but didn’t mind, either. “Be the hero you can be,”

It said in dark red ink, “Not the hero you think they need.”

  I stowed the book back in my pocket. You told me my face

Had fallen, but that somehow, it now seemed more honest.

Setting the pieces in their proper places, I wondered aloud

If you wanted a fair match. You thanked me, nodded,

And shortly won your very first checkmate. After a thousand

More, and a thousand more broken chess piece dreams,

I thought, you’ll be ready to face the bearded man again.

And I’ll be with you every step, filling my barely not-blank book,

Ready to remind you not to pick up the pieces, but to wait

Until the wind makes them unfamiliar, but that much stronger. 

[creativeenquiryshonawardrop]

Created moulds in silicone and cast in jesmonite solid shapes inspired by the ones I drew for the screen fabric and embroidery , they represent the female in the form of chess pieces. One of the first occassions in my life when I realised that being a girl meant that you could be treated differently. I was about 12 and on a school trip. One of the nights we had to hike to this wee cabin in the middle of nowhere and as a group we played different board games. I played chess with the male maths teacher , I had been playing chess ( badly)for years with my dad. I won and checkmated the teacher , on this occasion it had been a fluke , lucky positioning not strategy... but the maths teacher made a big deal about it like I was some kind of chess genius, I wasn’t , but it made me realise that he reacted like that because he did not expect it from a girl, my first sense that life as a women might be skewed by expectations. I havent played chess since.

I am also reminded of the chess men of the Hebrides created as status pieces their symbolism more about power, authority and male hierarchy.. not even meant to be played just a signal. I had inadvertently subverted those associations in the teachers mind. So I want to again subvert but on my terms, created pieces laid on crochet chessboard.

[latestbreakingnewsupdates]

U.K. Bans Huawei From 5G Network, Raising Tensions With China

U.K. Bans Huawei From 5G Network, Raising Tensions With China

“American sanctions left the U.K. with little choice,” stated Priya Guha, a former British diplomat who represented the nation’s pursuits in Silicon Valley. “There was a bit of checkmate by the U.S.”

Huawei spent the previous a number of weeks lobbying in opposition to a ban, emphasizing its investments in Britain. Members of Huawei’s U.Ok. advisory board, made up of British enterprise leaders…

[jobsearchtips02]

U.K. Bans Huawei From 5G Network, Raising Tensions With China

Banning the use of the Chinese tech giant’s equipment in high-speed wireless infrastructure is a major reversal by Prime Minister Boris Johnson — and a big victory for the Trump administration.

Huawei’s offices in Reading, in Britain.Credit…Daniel Leal-Olivas/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images

July 14, 2020Updated 10: 05 a.m. ET

LONDON — Britain announced on Tuesday that it would ban equipment from the Chinese technology giant Huawei from the country’s high-speed wireless network, a victory for the Trump administration and a reversal of an earlier decision that underscores how technology has taken center stage in the deepening divide between Western powers and China.

In January Britain said that Huawei equipment could be used in its new 5G network on a limited basis. But since then Prime Minister Boris Johnson has faced growing political pressure domestically to take a harder line against Beijing, and in May the United States imposed new restrictions to disrupt Huawei’s access to important components.

Britain’s about-face signals a new willingness among Western countries to confront China, a determination that has grown firmer since Beijing last month adopted a sweeping new law to tighten its grip on Hong Kong, the semiautonomous city that was a British colony until 1997. On Tuesday, Robert O’Brien, President Trump’s national security adviser, was in Paris for meetings about China with counterparts from Britain, France, Germany and Italy.

Huawei’s critics say its close ties to the Chinese government mean Beijing could use the equipment for espionage or to disrupt telecommunications — a point the company strongly disputes.

Arguing that Huawei created too much risk for such a critical, multibillion-dollar project, the government said Tuesday that it would bar the purchase of new Huawei equipment for 5G networks after December, and that existing gear already installed would need to be removed from the networks by 2027.

“As facts have changed, so has our approach,” Oliver Dowden, the government minister in charge of telecommunications, told the House of Commons on Tuesday afternoon. “This has not been an easy decision, but it is the right one for the U.K.’s telecoms networks, for our national security and our economy, both now and indeed in the long run.”

The dispute over Huawei, the world’s largest maker of telecommunications equipment, represents an early front in a new tech Cold War, with ramifications for internet freedom and surveillance, as well as emerging technologies like artificial intelligence and robotics.

“The democratic West has woken up late to its over-dependence on a country whose values are diametrically opposed to it,” said Robert Hannigan, the former head of the British digital surveillance agency GCHQ, who is now an executive at the cybersecurity firm BlueVoyant. “Huawei and other Chinese companies present a real cybersecurity risk, but the primary threat comes from the intent of the Chinese Communist Party, as we see in Hong Kong.”

Huawei described Tuesday’s announcement as a disappointment and “bad news for anyone in the U.K. with a mobile phone.”

“It threatens to move Britain into the digital slow lane,,” said Ed Brewster, a spokesman for Huawei U.K. “Regrettably our future in the U.K. has become politicized; this is about U.S. trade policy and not security. ”

Until the latest turn of events, Britain had been welcoming. In 2005, it was the first country to offer Huawei a foothold in Europe, now the company’s largest market outside of China. Huawei financed university research and a charity started by Prince Charles. And just last month, Huawei announced plans to spend 1 billion pounds (about $1.25 billion) on a new research center in Cambridge.

The British experience shows the challenges nations face navigating the United States-China rift. In moving forward with the ban, Britain risks retaliation from China, one of its largest and fastest-growing trading partners, at a time when it is trying to craft a more open trade policy outside the European Union. China’s ambassador in London, Liu Xiaoming, recently warned that Britain would “bear the consequences” of treating China with hostility.

“The Huawei issue is the first of many complicated decisions we’re going to have about striking the right balance between our commercial and economic engagement with China, and our security concerns about how China uses its power,” said John Sawers, the former chief of the British intelligence service MI6.

Huawei is the leading provider for towers, masts and other critical equipment needed to build new wireless networks based on fifth-generation wireless technology, known as 5G.

New 5G networks are seen as essential infrastructure in an increasingly digital global economy. The networks will provide faster download speeds for average phone users, but offer even more important potential for commercial applications in industries such as manufacturing, health care and transportation.

Image

U.S. Secretary of State Mike Pompeo with Prime Minister Boris Johnson in London in January.Credit…Pool photo by Wpa

Huawei’s technological dominance in this field is increasingly viewed as a failure of industrial policy in the West. The American authorities have spent more than a year pressuring allies to keep Huawei out of communications networks, warning the company is a proxy for Beijing and a threat to national security. The Trump administration encouraged the use of other telecom equipment makers, including Sweden’s Ericsson and Finland’s Nokia.

At first, countries were resistant, unconvinced that Huawei posed a grave risk. Britain argued that it had a security system in place to ensure all Huawei equipment was reviewed before being put inside its communications networks. The announcement in January stipulated Huawei would be limited to “noncore” parts of the network.

A turning point came in May, when the Trump administration announced a rule that would bar Huawei and its suppliers from using American technology and software. The decision, slated to take effect in September, could throw Huawei’s supply chain into chaos.

In Britain, the American announcement added to pressure Mr. Johnson faced from members of his own Conservative Party to take a harder line against China, especially after the events in Hong Kong. The government announced a review of its January decision after the American punishments were announced.

“American sanctions left the U.K. with little choice,” said Priya Guha, a former British diplomat who represented the country’s interests in Silicon Valley. “There was a bit of checkmate by the U.S.”

Huawei spent the past several weeks lobbying against a ban, emphasizing its investments in Britain. Members of Huawei’s U.K. advisory board, made up of British business leaders including former BP chief executive John Browne, urged Mr. Johnson’s aides to take a more moderate approach. (A few hours before the government’s announcement on Tuesday, Huawei said Mr. Browne was leaving the board.)

British officials warned that its decision would add significant costs, and delay the rollout of 5G by around two years. The new 5G wireless systems must be built atop existing networks that Huawei had a major role in constructing. In setting a 2027 deadline, the British government said moving any faster to remove Huawei gear would produce a greater risk to the security and resilience of the network.

The ban does not apply to smartphones and other consumer products made by Huawei, or equipment used in 2G, 3G and 4G networks.

Many see the Huawei dispute as foreshadowing future conflicts, with other high-profile companies becoming entangled. Secretary of State Mike Pompeo said the United States was considering actions against Chinese apps, including the hugely popular social media service TikTok, which is owned by a Chinese internet company.

Last week, the American tech giants Facebook, Twitter and Google, all already blocked from the censored internet of mainland China, suspended the processing of Hong Kong government requests for user data because of a new national security law that mandates police censorship and digital surveillance. The new law could result in fines, equipment seizures or even arrests of company employees if the requests are denied.

Britain’s decision to ban Huawei will put pressure on other European countries. In Germany, Chancellor Angela Merkel is being urged to keep the company out of a new 5G network, but is weighing the economic fallout for German automakers, for whom China is a critical market. Australia has issued a ban, and Canada is considering one as well.

“If Huawei is stopped in its tracks, that does represent a very important inflection point for China’s ability to achieve its objectives,” said Nigel Inkster, a senior adviser at the International Institute for Strategic Studies in London who has written a book on the technology battle between the United States and China. “That would be very consequential.”

Mr. Inkster, a former member of the British intelligence service, warned that the West risks provoking China if it feels more economically isolated. “There is a serious need to think hard and deeply about whether it is realistic to disengage from China totally in these areas,” he said.

Read More

from Job Search Tips https://jobsearchtips.net/u-k-bans-huawei-from-5g-network-raising-tensions-with-china/

[techmaqofficial]

U.K. Bans Huawei From 5G Network, Raising Tensions With China

U.K. Bans Huawei From 5G Network, Raising Tensions With China

[ad_1]

“American sanctions left the U.K. with little choice,” said Priya Guha, a former British diplomat who represented the country’s interests in Silicon Valley. “There was a bit of checkmate by the U.S.”

Huawei spent the past several weeks lobbying against a ban, emphasizing its investments in Britain. Members of Huawei’s U.K. advisory board, made up of British business leaders including…

[tantus]

Baby, it is cold outside...luckily, we have the solution to keep you warm and full!

The Bishop is one of our largest toys, with a length of 11 inches and a weight of 2 lbs 12 oz, it's made to wow your holes.

https://www.tantusinc.com/collections/large-toys/products/bishop

[creekfiend]

To everyone asking yeah you can just..use knobbly textured silicone baby teething toys ... Like you can just do that

It isnt the Same as a toothbrush but it will clean stuff if you bite it... Thats literally how a lot of ppl clean their dogs teeth bc a lot of dogs dont tolerate actual brushing so well. WELL NEITHER DO I. CHECKMATE

Toothbrushing has been so fucking hard lately that I honestly am giving up and just getting some knobbly rubber to chew on like a dog

[sinesalvatorem]

Wait, so you'll go on a date with anyone who asks to go on one? And you'll do emotional labour for anyone who feeds you? And you'll do all the travelling yourself? You mean to tell me that there's a service to order pretty girls to your home to listen to you complain about your life and people are STILL NOT TAKING YOU UP ON IT? Checkmate, efficient market hypothesis.

Yes, everything you say is accurate! You even neglected to mention that the service to order said girl comes with an easy-to-use form that lets you specify the city, time (if you have one in mind), and method of contact! This is, indeed, the Web 2.0 of ordering girls off the internet.

The fact that my startup is still failing to achieve its growth milestones is a proof of everything wrong with Silicon Valley that not even @slatestarscratchpad can ignore. Clearly, I should write a Vox explainer about this tragedy.

[jb-admin]

Checkmate Silicon Valley in One Move

Checkmate Silicon Valley in One Move

Don’t get suckered into an expensive stock.

My ingenious ratio keeps the market honest.

Silicon Valley’s “fab five” are not dirt-cheap.

Also recommended: The culmination of my life’s work…

I don’t care what investing legend you idolize and try to emulate — Buffett, Graham, Lynch — they all share a common recommendation.

They favor buying undervalued stocks and selling them when they’re…

[pharmaphorumuk]

Pfizer might buy BMS for $130bn – but should it?

Pfizer could soon launch a multi-billion dollar bid for immunotherapy rivals Bristol-Myers Squibb. But moves into new fields of innovation and digital tech – such as Roche’s buyout of Flatiron – are likely to be more popular with investors

Pfizer, the pharma company that become the world’s biggest through a series of mega-mergers, may be about to pull the trigger again.

This time, Pfizer could be sizing up Bristol-Myers Squibb, and would have to pay $125-130 billion to persuade BMS shareholders to agree any such deal, based on the company’s current $109 bn market value.

While there is always excitable chatter online about possible buy-outs, this prediction has come from a reputable source – Citi analyst Andrew Baum, one of the most high profile pharma analysts.

Last week Baum raised his price target for Bristol-Myers Squibb to $78 from $72, and he believed the probability of a Pfizer takeover has now risen from a 50/50 to a 65% chance of a bid.

At the core of BMS’ appeal to Pfizer is the huge success of its cancer immunotherapy Opdivo, which remains the leading checkpoint inhibitor, despite stiff competition, especially from Merck’s Keytruda.

Baum gave three reasons why he believed Pfizer was now more likely to make a move. First is the good news BMS received from its Checkmate-227 trial in early February. This could put it back in contention in first line lung cancer treatment, where it has lost out to Keytruda and Roche’s Tecentriq.

Secondly, BMS sealed a major deal with Nektar last week on a next generation immunotherapy NKTR-214, a move which Baum believes could materially increase Opdivo’s market share.

Finally, Baum says Pfizer’s own immuno-oncology strategy is “looking increasingly suspect,” as it is failing to keep pace with the immunotherapy frontrunners. That means that a BMS buy out might be Pfizer’s last chance to have a stake in the $50bn annual immuno-oncology market.

Will CEO Ian Read spend Pfizer’s cash on a mega-merger?

And of course, anyone familiar with Pfizer and its current CEO Ian Read knows that big M&A deals are a Pfizer tradition. Plans for two earlier mega-mergers in recent years had to be aborted – a $118bn bid for AstraZeneca was defeated in 2014, and a $160 billion ‘reverse merger’ with Allergan had to be scrapped in 2016 because of US tax obstacles.

Now the US has passed tax reform, Pfizer has billions more to play with, and will undoubtedly be considering its options.

However times have changed, and it’s far from clear whether investors would be impressed with a mega-merger, a strategy which has fallen out of favour.

Nooman Haque is managing director of Life Sciences and Healthcare at Silicon Valley Bank’s UK division. He says ‘horizontal mergers’ which combine two broadly similar companies is less appealing in 2018.

“Pfizer are always touted as a likely acquirer, because that has been their modus operandi. But I get the sense that investors are a little bit sceptical of horizontal mergers.

“That’s because the equity story at the moment in life sciences is all about innovation – it’s not about driving out cost efficiencies and headcount reduction. That’s not the story that investors are buying into.”

Nooman says mergers based largely on cost savings and efficiency could even be viewed as a negative, because they don’t address the innovation gap.

Roche and Flatiron – the shape of things to come

Much more exciting are the companies opening up new fields such as cell and gene therapy, and digital health. The most eyecatching deal in this latter category was Roche’s $1.9 billion outlay on Flatiron just last week. Flatiron is a pioneer in digital health record analytics, particularly focused around cancer. By compiling and analysing real world health data digitally, Flatiron could help create a personalised medicine model which would revolutionise medicine.

Building robust digital records also opens up the possibility of AI and genomics being adopted faster into every day healthcare – something that big pharma will not want to be excluded from.

Roche’s Daniel O’Day

Daniel O’Day, head of Roche’s pharma division said the deal was an important step in its personalised healthcare strategy.

“We believe that regulatory-grade real-world evidence is a key ingredient to accelerate the development of, and access to, new cancer treatments. As a leading technology company in oncology, Flatiron Health is best positioned to provide the technology and data analytics infrastructure needed not only for Roche, but for oncology research and development efforts across the entire industry.”

One key point that O’Day stressed was that Flatiron’s autonomy would be preserved, as would its ability to providing its services to all, not just Roche.

While this raises questions about just how Roche will leverage its advantage, there is no doubt that this ‘open innovation’ model is the norm, and the only way to achieve penetration into a burgeoning digital health field.

Nooman comments: “It’s the sort of deal that could set off an M&A spree as Roche’s rivals look to make similar acquisitions. Novartis’s new CEO Vas Narasimhan is talking a lot about technology and AI in drug discovery, and there may be pressure on all these big players to find the ‘right’ digital deal that has the potential to transform their business.”

He adds: “Whether it’s AI drug discovery or acquiring large datasets. I don’t know but in other industries similar follower behaviours are observed.”

Nevertheless, he agrees that finding synergies won’t be easy for Roche.

“Flatiron has a good, turbocharged Electronic Medical Record (EMR), and relationships with oncology clinics and (presumably) a great dataset. How that will be used depends on how open Roche are to change. The conservative vision would be to leverage those oncology clinic relationships to, for example, make recruitment and trial management easier – that’s not insignificant, but it’s also not ground-breaking.”

He says a more adventurous approach would be to deliver what Flatiron was created to do: a “data+ insights+relationships” combination which would allow Roche to develop therapies and treatment pathways that result in better patient outcomes.

Silicon Valley Bank’s Nooman Haque

“Delivering that will be a challenge, because Roche is still a large pharma company – and the fact that the deal is structured with the Flatiron team in place makes it look more like a division of Roche feeding its oncology programme, and not a meshing of cultures.

He concludes: “Perhaps in the short term that’s the right way but my feeling is that the bigger prize is the potential for Roche to become a different type of pharma company.”

Given the huge excitement around such developments, Pfizer CEO Ian Read may think twice before pulling the trigger on a mega-merger, which would take years to deliver and would almost certainly see thousands of job losses in US-based R&D.

Pfizer does have plenty of other options, and already has partnerships with some of the most exciting biotech pioneers, including three companies working in different gene-editing technologies: Sangamo, Spark and CRISPR Therapeutics – all potential buy-out options if their platform proves its clinical value.

It is also investing in numerous small scale digital projects, including its Pfizer HealthcareHub in London. Given these options, Ian Read may well decide that 2018 is the year to move away from the tried-and-tested mega merger, and aim instead for that ‘different type of pharma company’ model now emerging.

The post Pfizer might buy BMS for $130bn – but should it? appeared first on Pharmaphorum.

from Pharmaphorum https://pharmaphorum.com/news/pfizer-might-buy-bms-for-130bn-but-should-it/

[2x2verse]

I AM STILL NOT ON TIME FOR NSFW STRIDERCEST WEEK [takes another bite of toast and transforms into a Real AnimeTM]

Reflex [dirkhal]

“One, two--come on, forward, forward, it’s like I’m fighting a fucking thirteen-year-old.”

Your face pinches. This would be a lot easier if you could regulate your body temperature by sweating--well, maybe, it’s so humid out it might not make much of a difference. “Maybe because the last time I touched a sword, I was thirteen.”

It’s a subtle dig, one only Dirk would notice. That’s why you said it. “Uh, excuse you, bro, it’s a daitō and you will respect that.”

“You know what daitō means?” You relax your posture. Just enough that Dirk thinks he has an opening, and he snaps forward to get his blade in the space you just left. Like you didn’t expect that (like you aren’t him), like you don’t bring your own sword down to trap the tip of his against the concrete of the rooftop. You hope it chips. Dirk’s close enough that you can lean forward to whisper straight into his ear. “It means long sword. Precision, precision.” You click your tongue at him. “It’s a two-and-a-half-shaku tachi, you pleb.”

Dirk flicks his wrist up, dislodges the length of your blade, and feints, trying to catch you in the back. You’re too fast for him, not allowing him the cheap shot, and as you pivot on your heel, he retreats back into his own personal space. You can’t see his eyes, but light is just barely traveling across his shades as he tries to take in the situation, see what you’re playing at. “It’s a katana,” he insists. “A katana--”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot.” With some effort, you slow yourself down, try to drop your center of gravity without Dirk noticing. You want to spring on him here, propel off the rooftop with the superhuman strength of your legs until you trap him against one of the edges here with the force of your forward attack momentum. “You were so proud when you bought these from the mall kiosk that you got a free fedora, you respect them so much that you wear them with the cutting edge down, and you’re so competent with them that you disregard centuries of war arts to draw one-handed and attack in the same movement.”

“One of these days,” Dirk mutters, “I’m going to break your instant uplink to the Internet so you can’t access Wikipedia when I’m trying to teach you something.” His skin is fucking glistening with effort and grime and it’s hard not to just throw aside your weapon and jump his bones where he stands.

But it’ll be so much better if you soundly defeat him first. You may not have the muscle memory he does, but you have a processor core orders of magnitude more powerful than his, and the entirety of YouTube to watch for tutorials. Your weight is solidly resting on the balls of your feet. Because you don’t sweat, your grip on the hilt is solid, your identical fingers slotting perfectly into the grooves Dirk’s worn into the leather. Without adrenalin to interrupt your decision-making, you can plot this attack exactly how you’d like.

You take flight, the tension in your thighs snapping as you propel yourself forward, and your speed in this new body takes Dirk by surprise. He’s on the defensive as you slash into his space, close enough to threaten but (you hope) not enough to maim. The hollow sound of steel on steel gets swallowed in the sounds of the city, and between the two of you, your footprints are scuffing up dirt that clogs your internal filters.

Dirk’s not keeping track of his space--he thinks he’s on solid ground. His heel hits up against the brick of the side of the rooftop and you watch his eyebrows flick up in surprise. One more step and you have him totally pinned, your blade at his adam’s apple; fine blond stubble catches on the sharp of it.

“Checkmate,” you tell him, reaching out with your other hand to grab his hair and tip his head back.

This close, you can peer through the dark of his shades; Dirk’s eyes are down and to the side. “Well, this has gone completely fucking pear-shaped. There’s no other way out of it.” A twisted, toothy smile. “You’re going to have to decapitate m--”

“Not even close,” you interrupt him. Dirk drops his sword and you captchalogue it yourself, right alongside yours. He doesn’t move his throat or try to wrench his head away from your fist in his hair. Your fans are on overdrive and your circuits are thrumming. Crowding into Dirk’s personal space gets your hips up close with the respectable start of a hard-on. You will never get over the thrill of being his exact height, how your faces match perfectly. At this angle, though, when you press against him, your teeth are at his throat. His breath gets a little huffy when your canines glance over his carotid. “If I weren’t so convinced you gave this your best, I’d think you lost on purpose.”

“That was giving my best, I could have wiped the floor with you.” With your other hand, you push Dirk’s shades into his hair. His eyes are sparkling with dry humor when you let his head down. “Do you know how much restraint it takes to let a thirteen-year-old beat me?”

“Oh, so it was just to cushion my ego. I see.” Not that there was ever an implied sexual wager between the two of you, no sir. To regain the upper hand, you twist your fingers in Dirk’s hair, lean forward to bite his lower lip. The electricity of his skin always feels so good against your porcelain-silicone.

Dirk sucks in a breath just past your teeth, nips you back to align your lips a little better. His mouth is hot and drenched with hormones that make your taste sensors go haywire. “I’m impressed,” he tells you, breathless, between devouring kisses. “I didn’t think you’d make it that easy.”

What he’s carefully avoiding saying: you did better than he thought you would. “I accept your defeat.” And his arousal, as you roll your hips against his and press his ass into the waist-high ridge girding the roof and keeping either of you from a twenty-some-story fall to the streets below. “Turn around.”

“I won’t do it unless you call me--”

“Bright Eyes.” You can finish each other’s thoughts. It’s so intimate to be so inextricable from him, from his mind, even after all this time. And you want to be back in him again. In every way. In any way you can. You twist your wrist, which cranes Dirk’s neck to the side, and you give him just enough space to pivot and press his ass back into you before you pin him again. It’s irresistible, really, and your robo-dong nestles perfectly against it as you press him against the retaining wall.

Dirk’s hands reach out, scrabble for purchase, grip the ledge. “Holy shit.”

“What?”

“I can see the street.”

“You think I’m going to let you fall?” You thread your fingers back into his hair again, tug gently. A little sigh burbles out of Dirk’s throat, and his knuckles stop going quite so white. “Never. Spread your legs a little and your center of gravity stays right back here.”

“Get my pants down first and I’ll think about it.”

Ah. Right. Logistics. It’s a little easier for you, your bodycon suit has invisible seams that can split it any which way for convenience’s sake, but Dirk has these things called pants and they need to go vaguely downwards for you to get access to his princely parts. It’s easy enough to find his glaringly huge Batman belt buckle, snap it open, but wriggling the denim down his hips is an exercise in frustration. Why does he have to wear the tightest clothing for the most rigorous exercise? The real interesting phenomenon here is the small bottle of choji oil nestled in a front pocket, almost camouflaged by the other bulge in his pants; you fish it out, set it down by one of Dirk’s thumbs. It’s his responsibility now to make sure it doesn’t accidentally fall off the edge of the building. Why, it’s almost like he planned for this outcome. Dirk’s jeans are clinging to his skin with sweat-damp and your fingertips skate along between cloth and body, never quite finding the purchase they want. You kick at one of his ankles. “Out.” The hips are too narrow for him to really spread his knees.

Dirk follows your lead, kicks off shoe, sock, and pant leg; his bare foot curls up awkwardly when he sets it back down in a wider stance, protecting his soft insole from the grit of the concrete rooftop. And his toes are already curling in. Perfect. When you reach around his front with your other hand, you find him full hard. Rutting against him from behind pushes Dirk’s hips into the architecture and his hard-on into your hand. “Ah, fuck,” he chokes out, tilting back so it presses his bare ass against your dick.

Right. Because when you divested him of his clothes, that gave him zero protection against the unforgiving roughness of the brick and mortar. “It’s like you think I won’t take care of you,” you murmur condescendingly into his ear. Dirk’s this close to reaching behind and swatting you, only holding back once he realizes moving his hand would mean losing his balance, and probably the oil as well. You pluck it out of his sight so there’s no risk of that happening. “Shh,” from your mouth covers the pop of the cap as you empty the contents all over your hand, and you follow up with a gentle massage of your fingertips into his scalp. That’ll always make you melt, so you know it does the same for him.

Your soaked hand reaches between his legs from behind; you find his balls with your fingertips and slick the whole oiled press of your palm backwards, leaving Dirk a wet mess between his legs. With a finger on his perineum, you can feel his dick twitch, down to the root. Your forearm isn’t in front to brace him anymore, so his stomach rests awkwardly on the barrier as his hips subconsciously tilt towards you--the best angle for this. Before he can think about, and correct, his little tells, you let the rest of the oil in your palm drip down your fingers, hone in on his hole, and start teasing him open.

He’s not as resilient as you. Sometimes it’s hard to remember. In moments like this, though, when you’re touching up against every tender inside part of him you can reach, you can feel just how human he is. You almost want to protect him from himself. Your own body can be rebuilt, you have the technology, but Dirk only gets one shot with the one he was given. His back is already smattered with scars and you long to destroy anything that could have given him such a memento of hurt. While you open him around one finger, you drop your lips to his neck, feel out his pulse with your delicate, crowded touch sensors, and follow it up, down, catch the uptick in rhythm when you press just the right spot just the right way.

Two fingers, and you can feel the harshness of every breath he chokes down. He’s hitching his hips back against you insistently, afraid to push forward in case he chafes his shaft against brick. “Remind me,” Dirk says, half-breath and half-moan, “I need to install mini bullets in your fingertips the next chance I get.”

“What, and be even more susceptible to this?” Ease out, and then plunge back in with three. You can hear Dirk’s fingernails scratching up loose grit from the concrete as you spread him open. “That doesn’t seem fair, really. I can’t just install cybernetic sex enhancements in you whenever I decide you’re too boring for me.”

“I’ll nev--ah! Be too boring for you,” he insists. And he’s right. He’s a curiosity, a treasure, something unique and unpredictable even in his rigid routines and instinctive reflexes. You need him, need to learn him inside and out, need him to be yours, need to be in him again, need--

Fingers out--there’s a pornographic centerfold for you, Dirk spreading his legs and so ready to get fucked, clove-smelling oil dribbling down his taint. It only takes a brief sweep of your thumb to separate your bodysuit at the waist, a tuck of the joint under the fabric to sweep it down and let your cock out from where it’s been choking to death in the spandex. You don’t tell him when, but it’s like he knows anyway, and he lets out a slow, tight breath as you hold yourself steady and finally, finally, get as close to him as you can.

His hips are still tense even as you nudge further and further in. You can fix that. With your one hand still idly petting along his scalp, you reach around with the other and cup your still-slick hand around his dick. A thrust forward from you, and he lets the momentum press him up against the wall, your forearm cushioning his hips and your fingers giving him something amazing to rut against.

Out, in again. An ever-increasing tempo, only ratcheting up once Dirk starts to remember to choke down his moans. And then your hand in his hair forces his head down so he has no choice but to stare at his potential death, and you drive forward at just the right angle, and Dirk yells “oh, god, fuck!” to every single one of his neighbors. So much for his Strider poker face.

And he feels--so good, so warm, with such a human pulse running through him, greedily gulping down his breaths in such a human way, skin shining with oil and swordfight and sex. The thrust of him against your hand, the clench of him around you, feels so organic, so natural, and “shit,” you let out, the tiniest curse, you want to be in him, really inside him, nestled in his human frame and living in his human brain and never to be separated from him again--god, you want it, you want him, you need this--you need--behind your teeth, electrical charge building with nowhere to go, so close you can taste your circuits sparking--

Dirk hollers some nonsense vowel sound into the void and orgasms against your hand, the clench of him drawing you in--the furthest you can go--you crush his hips to yours, lay your chest over his back, and overload with a hum so urgent and loud it vibrates through both your bodies.

It takes a hot minute for your wiring to get back under control. Dirk’s breathing hard under you, head hung low between his shoulders with exhaustion and satisfaction. You try to draw his head up so you can pull him away from the edge, and that’s when you notice your hand shaking. Your arm. Miniature recalibrations happening on a second-by-second basis. It wouldn’t be so bad if it were just your upper extremities, but your knees feel almost weak and the tremor in your ankles means you’re at a real risk of losing your balance.

You pull out of Dirk--gently, he does one of those soft vowel noises that you know isn’t pain, but a warning that that’s where you’re going--and sit your fucking ass down before you hurt someone. Not entirely voluntarily, either. Your backwards momentum, plus your ankles giving out, means you basically slip on nothing and end up hitting the rooftop ass first.

“Fuck,” Dirk huffs out. A few huffs of breath that’s the closest he can get to a laugh while still being this winded. Your suit’s sealing itself back up, even though your crotch is still slick, and you wonder if that’s going to hurt you later. “Oh, god,” Dirk moans again, this time trying to find the waistband of his pants with his bare toes so he can get himself dressed again. He manages to pull up his pants without looking too fucked, and while he’s doing his fly and his belt, he turns around to check on you. The way you can see the white in his eyes as he looks you over makes your coolant freeze. “God, what the hell happened?”

“I don’t know--”

“You’re shaking,” Dirk says. You’re glad he can state the obvious, you just wish it wasn’t so obvious to him how much of a mess you are right now. “Your suit is fucking soaked through--your arm, Hal, look at your arm!”

Which arm? The hand you had at his head is fine, if still spasming out of your control. Your other hand--when you turn it over to take a look at the back of it, it’s completely chewed up, gouges and dents and scratches in your synthetic skin, some bad enough to leave exposed wiring. You follow the extent of the damage up your forearm, where keeping Dirk from rubbing himself raw against the brick retaining wall just meant you took the brunt of it yourself. “Well, shit,” you say idly, moving to touch one of the frayed wires.

“Don’t!” Dirk snaps before you spark yourself. “Hal, god, you can’t just keep doing this to yourself, I know you think you’re indestructible but I just--when you’re--you can’t do this to me. Come on, we gotta take care of you, I can’t stand worrying about you this much.”

He reaches for your hand, skips it and hauls you up by the wrist. He’s a hot mess, and so are you, but between the two of you, with his thoroughly-fucked ass and your unsteady legs, you make it down the stairs and back to the apartment. His protectiveness of you perfectly mirrors your anxiety over his fragile human body. You just wish he’d let you take care of him, too.

[latestbreakingnewsupdates]

U.K. Bans Huawei From 5G Network, Raising Tensions With China

U.K. Bans Huawei From 5G Network, Raising Tensions With China

“American sanctions left the U.K. with little choice,” mentioned Priya Guha, a former British diplomat who represented the nation’s pursuits in Silicon Valley. “There was a bit of checkmate by the U.S.”

Huawei spent the previous a number of weeks lobbying in opposition to a ban, emphasizing its investments in Britain. Members of Huawei’s U.Okay. advisory board, made up of British enterprise…