#it's been over two weeks and it's just over 60% contained

[nobodybetterlookatme]

Guess who didn't get to go home 😭

[fixomnia-scribble]

WOW.

Scientists found an amazingly well-preserved village from 3,000 years ago

Text below, in case article access dries up:

LONDON — A half-eaten bowl of porridge complete with wooden spoon, communal rubbish bins, and a decorative necklace made with amber and glass beads are just a handful of the extraordinarily well-preserved remnants of a late Bronze Age hamlet unearthed in eastern England that’s been dubbed “Britain’s Pompeii” and a “time capsule” into village life almost 3,000 years ago.

The findings from the site, excavated in 2015 to 2016, are now the subject of two reports, complete with previously unseen photos, published this week by University of Cambridge archaeologists, who said they cast light onto the “cosy domesticity” of ancient settlement life.

“It might be the best prehistoric settlement that we’ve found in Britain,” Mark Knight, the excavation director and a co-author of the reports, said in an interviewThursday. “We took the roofs off and inside was pretty much the contents,” he said. “It’s so comprehensive and so coherent.”

The reason for the rare preservation: disaster.

The settlement, thought to have originally consisted of several large roundhouses made of wood and constructed on stilts above a slow-moving river, was engulfed by a fire less than a year after being built.

During the blaze, the buildings and much of their contents collapsed into a muddy river below that “cushioned the scorched remains where they fell,” the university said of the findings. This combination of charring from the fire and waterlogging led to “exceptional preservation,” the researchers found.

“Because of the nature of the settlement, that it was burned down and its abandonment unplanned, everything was captured,” Knight added.

“As we excavated it, there was that feeling that we were picking over someone else’s tragedy,” he said of the eerie site in the swampy fenland of East Anglia. “I don’t think we could smell the fire but the amount of ash around us — it felt close.”

Researchers said they eventually unearthed four large wooden roundhouses and an entranceway structure, but the original settlement was probably “twice as big.”

The site at Must Farm dates to about 850 B.C., eight centuries before Romans came to Britain. Archaeologists have been shocked at “just how clear the picture is” of late Bronze Age life based on the level of detail uncovered, Knight said.

The findings also showed that the communities lived “a way of life that was more sophisticated than we could have imagined,” Duncan Wilson, head of Historic England, the public body responsible for preserving England’s historic environment, said in a statement.

The findings unearthed include a stack of spears, possibly for hunting or defense; a decorative necklace “with beads from as far away as Denmark and Iran”; clothes of fine flax linen; and a female adult skull rendered smooth, “perhaps a memento of a lost loved one,” the research found.

The inhabitants’ diet was also rich and varied, including boar, pike and bream, along with wheat and barley.

A pottery bowl with the finger marks of its maker in the clay was also unearthed, researchers said, still containing its final meal — “a wheat-grain porridge mixed with animal fats” — with a wooden spatula resting inside the bowl.

“It appears the occupants saved their meat juices to use as toppings for porridge,” project archaeologist Chris Wakefield said in the university’s news release. “Chemical analyses of the bowls and jars showed traces of honey along with ruminant meats such as deer, suggesting these ingredients were combined to create a form of prehistoric honey-glazed venison,” he added.

Skulls of dogs — probably kept as pets and to help with hunting — were also uncovered, and the dogs’ fossilized feces showed they fed on scraps from their owners’ meals, the research found.

The buildings, some connected by walkways, may have had up to 60 people living there all together, Knight said, along with animals.

Although no intact sets of human remains were found at the site, indicating that the inhabitants probably fled the fire safely, several sheep bones were found burned indoors. “Skeletal remains showed the lambs were three to six months old, suggesting the settlement was destroyed sometime in late summer or early autumn,” according to the university’s news release.

Ceramic and wooden vessels including tiny cups, bowls and large storage jars were also found. Some pots were even designed to nest, stacked inside one another, Knight said — evidence of an interest in aesthetics as well as practicality.

A lot of similar items were found replicated in each home, Knight added, painting the picture of completely independent homesteads for each family unit rather than distinct buildings for shared tasks — much like we live today.

Household inventories often included metal tools, loom weights, sickles for crop harvesting, axes and even handheld razors for cutting hair.

The roundhouses — one of which had almost 50 square meters (nearly 540 square feet) of floor space — had hearths and insulated straw and clay roofs. Some featured activity zones for cooking, sleeping and working akin to modern-day rooms.

The Must Farm settlement has produced the largest collection of everyday Bronze Age artifacts ever discovered in the United Kingdom, according to Historic England, which partly funded the 1.1 million pound ($1.4 million) excavation project.

The public body labeled the site a “time capsule,” including almost 200 wooden artifacts, over 150 fiber and textile items, 128 pottery vessels and more than 90 pieces of metalwork. Some items will go on display at the nearby Peterborough Museum next month.

Archaeologists never found a “smoking gun” cause for the fire, Knight said. Instead, they suspect it was either an attack from “outside forces,” which may explain why the inhabitants never returned to collect their possessions from the debris, or an accidental blaze that spread rapidly across the tightly nestled homes.

“Probably all that was left was the people and what they were wearing; everything else was left behind,” Knight said of the fire.

But the preservation has left a window for people to look back through in the future. “You could almost see and smell their world,” he said.

“The only thing that was missing was the inhabitants,” Knight added. “And yet … I think they were there — you certainly got glimpses.”

[sunrise-imagines]

I have a big fat crush on Simon and Finn would you please do some hcs for either of them

Since I’ve already done some for Finn, I think now is a good time to write a little for Simon! Watching him become the latest Tumblr Sexyman™️ has been a dream come true.

*Ending contains spoilers for the last two episodes of Fionna and Cake*

TW: Trauma (this is Simon “‘My fiancé turned into a cosmic deity’ ‘That’s rough buddy’” Petrikov we’re dealing with), mentions of Depression, hurt/comfort

Simon Petrikov x Reader General Relationship Headcanons

• Oh boy, this one’s a doozy.

• Please be patient with him. He is a mess of a person currently, still dealing with the grief of losing Betty and feeling like he doesn’t belong in Ooo no longer being magic. He gets so wrapped up in his sadness that he can neglect the relationships he has in the present. This gets much better after the ending though.

• Self care days are a must, please just pamper this man with a nice hot bath and a massage every once in a while.

• Really good cook, he loves making food for you and it makes him feel like he can actually take care of you.

• He worries about you a lot, especially if you’re someone that likes to take risks and do dangerous stuff.

• He’s a big nerd so he gets excited if you share interests in stuff like science and literature.

• Although he doesn’t like to go on life-threatening adventures (Finn), he still loves the exploring the outdoors and the two of you regularly go for hikes around the safer parts of Ooo.

• Will be very happy if you also have a good friendship with Marceline, seeing his partner and adoptive daughter interact touches his heart.

• Such a simp for you, like if you ask him for anything he will make it his mission to fulfill your request

• His love language is definitely words of affirmation. He needs you to tell him how much you care about him and he loves saying the same to you. He could go on for hours about every little thing he loves about you.

• Marcy and Bonnie will come over for dinner a few times a week, sometimes joined by Finn and HW as well.

• He hates celebrating his own birthday (he’s turning 60) but he loves yours and will definitely bake you a cake and throw small birthday party for you. The party only consists of a few close friends but if you don’t like parties he’s perfectly fine with it being just the two of you.

• At first he wasn’t sure if you would even want to date an old man like him, but as time went on he became more confident in himself and that he deserves love just as much as anyone else, and he’s more than happy to share that love with you.

Bonus!

• Despite her current state, GolBetty is immensely happy seeing Simon finally able to move on and be happy.

• Even if they never got their happy ending, the fact that you and him are able to live happily together brings her peace, and she trusts you to take care of him.

[emmaleighsworld]

Seriously?

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: When your coworker ditches work early Steve is there to lend a helping hand.

Contains: just fluff here

Word Count: 1.7k

Steve’s taste in music had always been something his classmates raved about, even after he stopped hosting those huge parties. They always talked about how every time he’d host a party or let people hang out at his house he’d have the best, most popular, music on standby.

Although most of his favorite songs were fun, rock songs he could sing along to—and the occasional pop song—Steve also had a soft spot for some songs from the 60s and 70s. They brought him back to the simpler times of his childhood, back to before he had seen how complicated the world really was.

However, he usually liked to keep that information to himself because it was special to him. And since he kept that to himself and a few of his close friends, even if they liked poking fun at him for it—it was no surprise that two weeks after his graduation Tina had asked Steve if she could borrow his best summer-music tape for a party she was hosting while her parents were gone over the weekend. 

Tina said she’d stop by Scoops after she was done with it, but her party was two weeks ago. So, that’s how Steve ended up walking across the mall towards Sam Goody’s after his shift, hoping that Tina would be on the closing shift. 

That’s when Steve first saw you. You were wiping down the counters, humming along to a Supremes song that played over the store speakers, when he walked in. 

Steve’s first thought was that music stores don’t usually play this type of music. Usually, it’s something fun and upbeat because that’s what they’re trying to sell. 

Then Steve remembered that he’d seen you once before. A couple weeks ago, after his closing shift, he saw you in the mall parking lot. Well, truthfully, he’d heard you first. You were in your car singing along to an old Supremes song blasting from your car speakers with your windows down.

When he’d gotten to his Beemer, Steve watched as you drove past him in the lot, singing to your heart’s content. He remembered thinking how carefree you looked that night and how pretty he thought you were. 

Steve had kept an eye out for you after that night but never had any luck finding you as his eyes searched the crowds of the mall each day during his break. Suddenly, he was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard that voice again—“Seriously?” He heard her say under her breath.

“Hey, sorry, but I already closed the register. We’re closed for today.” you said, “You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“Oh, no. I’m not here to buy anything.” Steve said looking around, “Do you know if Tina’s here tonight? She borrowed one of my tapes for a party and I just wanted to get it back.”

You laughed, Tina had left her shift early with her boyfriend after promising you an IOU for the next time you wanted to leave early. 

“No, she’s not here. Left early with her boyfriend.”

“Seriously?” Steve asked.

You weren’t sure if it was his straightforwardness or if it was the way he kind of looked like he needed a friend in that silly-looking sailor hat, but you decided to continue the conversation instead of shooing him out of the store.

“Seriously,”  You sighed, holding up the silly IOU cards Tina made for you, “Now I have two of these.”

Steve walked closer to the counter to read them as you placed them on the counter and moved to grab the window cleaning supplies.

“An IOU? She really gave you one of those?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t expect me to ever use them, but I kind of want to just so that she knows she can’t always dump this crap on me and ‘promise’,” you say making air quotes with your fingers, “ that she’ll cover for me.”

You began spraying the front window and continued your rant, “I mean, she barely helps when she is here.”

“I could help you close up the shop if you want?” Steve broached as you wiped the glass.

You stopped, turning around to face the guy you had allowed to stay in the store for maybe a bit too long.

“You would help me?” You asked skeptically.

“Yeah, sure. I mean, I just closed up Scoops Ahoy—which is why I’m still wearing this stupid uniform. But I did it all by myself since Robin had to leave early for some stupid family dinner. Anyway, I just—I know what it’s like and if you want some help just give me the order.”

Steve finished his rambling offer to help with a smile, hoping you’d take him up on his offer. 

You stayed silent for a few seconds and narrowed your eyes at him, thinking. But, just when Steve started thinking you were about to kick him out, you smiled.

“You know, I was starting to wonder why you walked in here looking like some discount store sailor. No offense.” You said.

“None taken,” he smiled back and took off his sailor hat, “This wasn’t really my first choice, but I had to get a job somewhere-you know?”

“Yeah, I get that—“ you paused, realizing you didn’t know this guy's name yet and he didn’t know yours, “What’s your name?”

“Steve Harrington,” he said.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Steve Harrington,” you smiled cheekily and then gave him your name.

Steve smiled too, “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“Well, Steve, if you really want to help, I haven’t swept the floor yet and  there’s a broom in the back.”

You went back to wiping the front window and looked back at him after a few seconds. Steve had stopped moving. He had a blank look on his face like he was surprised you accepted his help. Most people just brushed off his offers for help.

“The back room is over there,” you said pointing, “Don’t think that I’ll let you just loiter around in here 'cause you’re nice.”

“Oh, okay,” Steve said, still in a daze.

As Steve walked over to the back room, the song over the stereo changed and you started humming along as you returned to your work. 

You could hear him moving around when you suddenly heard another voice quietly humming with you. 

You stopped and looked at Steve. He was quietly humming to the song and moving around the store as he swept. 

In that moment, you could feel your heart squeeze at the sight. You barely knew anything about him, but there was something so endearing about Steve and the way he wanted to help you for nothing in return.

He had surprised you. You didn’t think you were ready to like someone new, but there Steve was. Helping you out, on a Friday night nonetheless, in all his kindness.

Steve looked up at you when he realized you’d stopped humming. And just when you thought he couldn’t have shocked you more, he stopped humming and began to sing along-trying to coax you into joining him.

It took you a minute to let the moment sink in. With anyone else you would have passed it off as a joke, but Steve had disarmed you. So you joined him, singing along to your heart's content in an odd duet sort of way.

Soon enough, the two of you had cleaned the store and finished the rest of the closing duties, singing the whole time. 

“That was fun,” you said, turning off the music and grabbing your bag from the counter, heading towards the doors. 

“Yeah,” he said as he watched you lock the door for the night.

“Thanks—for the help I mean.” You said looking towards Steve.

“It’s no problem, I’m glad to help.” Steve said, “Can I walk you to your car?” 

He looked a little nervous when he asked. It was almost like he was scared you’d say no, but instead, you smiled at him.

“Sure,” you said.

So you started walking out of the mall, in step with Steve.

The walk to your car was surprisingly quiet. You couldn’t figure out what you should be talking about and Steve didn’t say anything either. He seemed to be lost in thought whenever you glanced over at him.

You thought the two of you had a lot of fun tonight. A small part of you thought that you could become friends with Steve, and an even smaller part thought about liking him as more than a friend if you got to know him better.

It felt a little silly thinking about it, but he helped you and made you feel better. 

But by the time you’d gotten to your car, neither of you had said a word.

“Well, thanks for walking with me. I guess I’ll see you around,” you said unlocking your car.

“Wait, umm…” Steve said before trailing off.

“Yeah?” You looked at him, waiting. 

He took a small breath and continued, “You remember how you said you wanted to use those IOU cards Tina made you?”

You nodded, wondering what exactly he was going to say.

“Well, I was wondering if you’d like to go to the Fourth of July fair with me—maybe use one of those IOUs to get off work early?” Steve asks.

“We could play the games and go on some rides,” he continued, “The food’s not too bad as long as you don’t think about how greasy it actually is. I was thinking we could get to know each other better…”

“Are you asking me, as a date? Serious?” You asked, almost not believing your ears.

“Yeah, I thought it could be fun,” Steve said as he rubbed the back of his neck, “So, what do you think?”

You broke into a smile, “I think I would like that a lot.”

Steve looked so relieved when you accepted. He had smiled a few times already, but this smile was brighter than all the rest and it made you glad.

That must have been what he was thinking about on the walk to your car.

“Cool. Awesome. I can write out the details and bring them to you on my lunch break tomorrow if that's okay?” Steve offers.

“That’d be great Steve,” you said, “And maybe I could stop by Scoops on my break. I’ve been meaning to stop in too—see what flavors you guys have.”

“Great, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Steve said, “Drive safe.”

“You too,” you said before getting into your car to leave.

You weren’t quite sure what going on a date with Steve Harrington would bring. But, you did know that you were excited for something and it felt good to look forward to something again.

[brujawrites]

✧ ˚ · . 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 — 

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: "𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞," | masterlist | next chapter

contains: suguru x female reader, shoko ieri, college au, modern setting, college!suguru, english major!suguru, pining, slow burn, inspired by lana del rey lyrics, 18+ ONLY MDNI

synopsis: meet reader! see how suguru and reader's paths have crossed before and why we're especially excited to see him in class this final semester. chapter 1 of a series so there's alot of background being set up!! ao3 - kofi - playlist - pinterest

"sometimes I feel like i've got a war in my mind, I wanna get off but I keep riding the ride, I never really noticed that I had to decide to play someone's game, or live my own life -- and now I do. I wanna move out of the black, into the blue,"

— "Get Free", Lana Del Rey

Suguru Geto was so cool to you. He just exudes an air of captivating mystery, a quality that draws you in. You found a reflection of yourself in him — the curious, introspective soul that found joy in dissecting and analyzing literature and movies for the sheer pleasure of finding a deeper meaning in art. This was a stark contrast to the persona you currently inhabited. Ever since you got everything you thought you wanted by joining the sorority, there’s this “hot girl” facade you’ve been keeping up. You had to, at least you tell yourself that. Being Vice President of the sorority, the hair and nail appointments every couple weeks, the packed schedule every single week, consumed by obligations at work, for the sorority, date functions, or mixers with fraternities — it was everything you thought you wanted. 

The past two years had been hard in an unconventional way. You were suddenly best friends with over 60 girls, learning about what it meant to be a ‘sister’, navigating your academic life, new found social life, & trying to not fail miserably. 

Meeting Suguru in Spanish class two years ago may have actually been around the time things started to get overwhelming. The sight of him walking into the bustling lecture hall remains etched in your memory. His raven black hair gracefully framed his cheekbones, a striking contrast to his fatigued expression. He calmly looked around the room for a potential seat when his gaze suddenly met yours, his velvety dark eyes sending what felt like a jolt of electricity through you. Immediately, you looked away, intimidated by such abrupt intimacy. As the moment drifted away, you couldn’t help but steal more glances, mesmerized by the effortless allure of his hair half-tied, and admiring the contrast between his hair and the crisp white of his band tee. Your hungry eyes lingered on the sight of his strong, lightly tanned forearm, the muscles flexing as he set his bag on the ground in front of his feet. 

A small smirk played on your lips as the facts informed the fiction, aligning your romanticized narrative with reality — you liked him. You wanted him… right? It seemed like a recurring pattern, a new infatuation added to your roster each semester, you were starting to hate how your mind went to those places when looking at complete strangers. He settled into his seat a few rows ahead, to your right. The rest of the hour-long class went by as your attention wavered from the professor's lecture to the constant pings of the pledge class' group chat on your laptop, all while thoughts of this enigmatic boy swirled through your mind. What was it about him? Obviously, his looks played a role — he was undeniably attractive! But there was an unspoken allure about him that resonated with you. Something remarkably genuine.

He was attractive, but not like the frat boys you had started to learn — those confident, almost arrogantly charming boys supported by the rowdy group of self identified brothers. Suguru stood apart in that way, his demeanor stoic, shrouded in enigma. You, on the other hand, were no different than those frat boys. Donning your Greek letters, surrounded by sisters at parties or on campus, you exuded a confidence that was empowering. But when you’re all alone, face to face with a cute guy, maintaining prolonged eye contact feels like you’re in over your head. 

A twinge of disappointment grew inside you as the realization set in; you haven’t changed. You hadn’t felt the profound shift you had envisioned when justifying your sorority membership to friends back home. College was supposed to be a fresh start, a chance to compensate for feeling like a loser in high school. Encountering someone like Suguru served to remind your of your discomfort within your own skin, in your clothes. Despite this, you pressed on, going through the motions because you thought that was what would make you happy. You thought it was what you wanted. 

That concern quickly snowballed into a full-fledged personal identity crisis, intensifying by the time you were twenty-one. Everyone your age experienced that overwhelming anxiety about the trajectory life seemed to be going in, right? You were pretty aware that these insecurities stemmed from your less than wonderful experiences in grade school. The desire to be accepted, to belong, felt deceptively straightforward but in reality, it was complex. Seeking validation through association of status started to overshadow authentic connections, a realization that took two years to hit. Stepping down from the exhaustive responsibilities of the exec board of your sorority, a position that took way too much time and stress, you now craved a final semester dedicated to your genuine pleasure. No more putting on a facade, no more living for appearances. 

So, when you trudged through the cold, grey January air to your senior seminar to find three or four other students, you immediately slipped into your unnatural facade, feigning interest in your phone screen instead of others around you that actually held your interest. So much for not living up to appearances, you thought silently to yourself when he walked in. 

Suguru Geto. The name alone sent a jolt through you, so seeing him walk into the room sent a surge of excitement swiftly followed by a pang of panic. Today, he looked impeccable. His hair effortlessly framing his features, a brown flannel that accentuated out the deep hues in his eyes, paired with a white crewneck & off-white khakis. Simple, but something about it brought on a flush of warmth over your body. As he moved closer to your side of the classroom, the facade threatened to crumble. Buried in your phone, pretending to text your roommate, Utahime, just trying to avoid the prospect of awkward eye contact or embarrass yourself by speaking to him. 

Your attention is lifted from the screen when the desk in front of you starts to shift. Suguru stood before you, unfastening his backpack, meeting your gaze. You silently hoped your flushed cheeks weren’t betraying your emotions as you offered the boy a friendly grin. After all, the two of you knew each other. A soft smile grew on his lips before he turned away, settling into his seat before class.

Yeah, you think to yourself, recalling that you and Suguru had crossed paths before, that it wasn't a fantasy you made up. Last Spring you took that boring poetry theory class together. That professor was super strict & everyone in the class realized it at the same time when he revealed the daunting project: reconstructing a Wikipedia page for an ancient poem. You got a B for the midterm, Suguru got a D and was shocked to see your grade so much higher than his. “Everyone got a super low score,” you remember him rationalizing, a touch of defeat in his tone. There was nothing you could really say back to him thanks to the slight intimidation that comes from talking to someone so effortlessly cool. Handsome, even. 

“Yeah, I’m not entirely sure how I managed that score either. I didn’t really know what I was doing.” You admitted, not intending to mislead, but also recognizing you had no actual insight to give.

“I’m gonna call Shoko and see what she got. See ya later,” he waved before strolling over to the bike rack, phone already at his ear with Shoko on the dial. You tentatively wave back, feeling a peculiar sensation settling in your stomach. You noticed Shoko and Suguru in class together, but they’re dynamic never struck you as particularly flirtatious. They were definitely close though. It was funny for you to think back to the immense crush you had on him the spring semester one year before, only for fall semester to roll by — out of sight, out of mind. And then, there you were a year later.

The digital clock on the wall hit 9:30 right as the professor entered, exchanging morning greetings before setting up the projector. The first class of your last semester is starting now, causing a subtle flutter in your stomach. It was surreal that just four years ago you got lost in this exact building during orientation week. You had experienced a myriad of changes within yourself since starting university. Why did you feel such shame about it? Because it’s not you, you quietly reasoned to yourself. As Suguru adjusted in his seat in front of you, his hair and big shoulders encroaching on your desk space, the subtle whiff of his black-cherry scented cologne served as a gentle reminder of your conundrum. 

Okay, so you’re into him.

This time, you silently told yourself, you’re actually going to do more to get to know him. Usually, your interest in men gravitates towards fraternity-affiliated boys, but after two years of mingling with them, nothing felt truly authentic, worthwhile, or genuine. Reflecting on the time an upperclassman in another sorority was gushing about her parents meeting through Greek life at a mixer — you could barely mask your dismay at the notion of finding a lifelong partner within that circle. Gradually, you learned to adapt to navigate those environments with copious amounts of alcohol among other substances. They served as a mask, veiling the disdain some of those young men would bring out in your expression. Their thoughtlessness with their dicks and carelessness with their words often left you repulsed and disheartened..

“Alright,” the disappointment in your professor’s voice snapped your attention back to the room. “Well, you were expected to have had that reading done for today’s discussion. Given that only two of you have actually taken the initiative of checking their emails before class, we’ll need to end early. Check your email for Thursday’s assignment as I’ll be sending it out briefly.” The sound of zipping bags and shuffling papers filled the room as the Professor’s words trailed off, students preparing to leave. Both you and Suguru remained seated, attentive. Hot, you thought. A man with respect for women speaking. “Thursday’s discussion will cover today’s missed discussion along with the planned agenda for our second meeting. See you then.”

She nodded briefly in your direction, and a faint warmth spread across your cheeks from the unexpected attention. Only two of you completed the reading? That caught your curiosity, and it seemed Suguru shared that sentiment. Pivoting in his seat to face you, his grin returning with your flush. “Hey,” his voice, smooth and gentle, made the corners of your mouth instinctively curve upwards. 

“Hi,” you replied with a playful smirk, casually tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Did you do the reading?” Suguru’s voice lowered, his gaze discreetly scanning a few classmates nearby. You responded with a nod and a soft giggle. 

“Did you?” You teased back, your own voice barely above a whisper. You felt like jelly when he rewarded you with a chuckle. Oh man, you thought silently.

“Yeah, I did. It’s just... none of it really made sense. Wondering if you might have some notes or something you could share,” he admitted as you both gathered your belongings, preparing to leave. You suddenly felt self conscious about your outfit, conscious of his attention. You and Suguru were unintentionally matched with your puffy, white turtleneck and shades of brown from your plaid mini skirt complementing his flannel. The leather knee high riding boots didn’t exactly match his black Converse in style, but certainly in color — you just worried it was too… girly. You hoped he wouldn’t write you off for your affiliation to Greek life. 

“Um, I did read it, but I have a bit of a weird approach... Do you have a class next or are you free for a bit?” the words spilled out before you could second guess yourself. Yes, keep going, you urged yourself silently as you led the conversation with Suguru into the hall. He can’t make assumptions without knowing you, you reminded yourself. He nodded agreeably, indicating he had some time to spare, then suggested grabbing a table at the coffee shop near campus. As you exited the building together, you decided it was time to let him see the real you. 

[dirtybitfic]

so wrong yet so right

matt sturniolo x y/n

Contains- lecture, disciplinary conversation, dirty talk , flirting, humiliation.

( matt is your professor and you've been skipping class so he has you stay after class to talk)

y/n pov ~

I've been seeing this guy on and off for a while but recently he's been persuading me to skip my lectures and I agree every time. Today I told him I have to go to my class due to the fact if I missed today id be dropped from the class and I don't need to deal with that and my parents would be up my ass.

I grabbed my bag and packed up my shit and started my 8 minute drive to campus. Im honestly glad my apartment isn’t far from campus or id be late to every class ever.

I parked and made my way into the building. The halls were quiet since this is a later class and most of the building is used in the morning.

I had my air pods in as I listened to Maria Maria by Santana and the product G&B.

I open the door of my lecture room and make my way down the first two steps choosing to sit further in the back .

I sit down and bring out my computer to type notes during the lecture and wait for the class to fill up.

After about 5 minutes the room was filled to the brim with bored students ready for the day to over since its Friday and everyone just wants to be out at the clubs and parties taking place for st.Patricks day.

im gonna be honest this class is kinda boring I had to take it so I have to suffer through but ... the professor is hot asf so I don't mind being stuck in this room for 2 hours and 15 minutes.

Okay guys today were going to be sharing the stories you've all written throughout this week . professor Sturniolo says as he dims the lights and calls up the first student to read their story.

This is a creative writing class and we’re aloud to write anything we want but I missed the fact we’d be sharing the storys... I find that my best writing is dark romance . It's all I read and it's all that keeps me interested .

There is NO FUCKING WAY i'm reading this shit in front of the class . I guess from the class I missed on Tuesday was when he explained that we’d be sharing them with the class.

After about 10 students we were an hour into class . This is a smaller class probably around 60 people. Im praying to god we don't get through everyone today so I can write up a new story over the weekend that isn't filled with smut and masks and corn mazes like the one I have written this week.

I had to pee when we got to the 30th story so I got up quietly slipping out and rushing to the bathroom.

Call me crazy but every time my eyes drifted to Professor Sturniolo his eyes were already on me . Id like to think i'm delusional but the eye contact we held as he gave me a stern look had me feeling otherwise.

I made my way back to class and sat back down . Im guessing we were on about the 35 story when he said we only had time for about three more after this one.

THANK FUCKING GOD I CAN WRITE A NEW STORY THIS WEEKEND I thought to myself as another guy came up to read his story.

I was in shock after he read his it was a story about an old couple with dementia and the only people they could remember in the end was each other as they died in each others arms listening to their first dance song from their wedding. Im not gonna lie I shed some tears .

I looked back at Professor sturniolo as he called the second to last person up to read . He looked at me with a smirk and I swear I saw his Adams apple bob as if he was chuckling at the fact I was crying from the story that was just read. I quickly wiped my tears and sank into my seat.

After the last story of the class he started talking about how he wants everyone to start a new story and have it ready for next Fridays class .

I want you guys to focus your next stories on a specific feeling . It could be anger, happiness envy... anything you're feeling in the moment . I know I don't usually give prompts but I want you guys to express your feelings and show me through your writing style so I can feel them as well . Portraying feelings is a way to keep your reader interested . Have a good weekend and be safe .

everyone starts packing up and I do as well until ...

Ms y/l/n can you stay for a second we need to talk about some things

I loudly gulp as I look down the stairs where he stands as I nod my head and make my way down to him as the last students filter out.

have a seat ms y/l/n he says motioning to the seat in front of where he stands .

I do and sit quietly waiting for him to speak.

so would you like to tell me why you've missed two weeks of class he asks as he walks to his desk grabbing a few things and putting them in his bag.

I have no good explanation so I make one up hoping he'll believe it.

I was sick the first week and last week I had car troubles and was unable to get transportation here. I say sounding a bit unsure.

did you go to the doctor for a sick note he asks as he walks over to me standing in front of me looking down at me all the sudden making me nervous.

umm no

then I cant except that excuse . As for the car troubles ... uber is an option or the bus he says narrowing his eyes on me .

I mean ... yes but I...

I think your lying to me y/n and I don't appreciate it. Id like to think I make this class fun and you are a good writer what could possibly be worth waisting your talent hmm? he asks as he kneels down in front of the desk so I have to make eye contact with him .

I don't know I whisper as my face gets red and all the sudden the room starts to get hot.

Its a boy isn't it he ask as he tilts his head and narrows his eyes.

what ... I ask looking at him scrunching my eye brows

oh come on y/n your face says it all . I hate to see you skip class for someone who keeps you from having good grades and staying focused

I don't know what your talking about ... like I said I was sick and my car was broken so I say as I look away . How did my face give him that much intell.

okay y/n here's what we're gonna do i'm going to ignore the fact that you are blatantly lying to my face and i'll let these absences slide . But... if you even think of skipping my class again I will drop you and you will have to retake my class next semester... an I understood?

y-yes sir thank you I say as I take a breathe I didn't realize I was holding and look back up at him as he stands above me.

now did you write a story this week even though you were absent?

I want to lie and say no but i'm already on his bad side . I hate to say it but... he looks so hot when he's being stern and slightly irritated. He's only 27 and im 22 which is slightly weird. Most of my professors are old as fuck but it's kind of refreshing to have a young teacher.

Yeah I did I just... I didn't know we’d have to share them in front of the class and its not exactly... something I want to read to 60 people. I say as I avert my eyes to the ground.

Then good thing you'll be reading it to me right now... I know your style of writing I read them on a weekly bases but if you'd come to class on tuesday you would have known you'd have to read it aloud .

y-you want me to read it to you now I ask as I look up at him with raised brows and worry in my eyes.

yes unless you have somewhere to be thats more important . The correct answer would be " no sir ill read it now" his tone was laced with attitude mixed with a degrading flare that had me clenching my thighs.

no sir I have no where to be ill read it now I say with a tinge of attitude .

good girl now grab your computer and come back down here and start reading when your ready

I swallow thickly when he calls me good girl as my thighs squeeze together and my face gets red . It's so wrong to think of my professor in the ways I am but he makes its so hard not too. He looks down at my clenched legs smirking and walking to his desk grabbing his chair and sitting it in front of the desk I am at .

I get up and walk back up to where I left my bag grabbing my computer and bringing it back down . Opening it up and logging in as I find my story in google docs and take a breathe . Ive never had to read what I wrote out loud and I hate it so much . The fact i'm about to read a full on sex scene to my teacher should be illegal but he reads my story's each week so how bad could this be right.

whenever you're ready he says as he leans back in his chair waiting for me to start.

o-okay I say as I look down and start reading .

I was running through the corn field the three boys chasing after me from all sides . I cant tell who's who from the masks but I know if they catch me i'm screwed. Im being smacked and sliced by the sharps thick dried shucks from the corn but I power through trying my best to get away untouched . I decide to take a left and run down a narrow path that had been cut . I hear a low chuckle close by as I look over and I continue running to see the gold mask looking at me as the boy approaches me quickly . You can keep running all you want but we will catch you and you'll pay for what you did I hear a deep voice call from behind me . My breathing accelerated as my legs grow week from the amount of running i've been doing tonight. The path all the sudden opens to a large circle with a cross in the middle where they tie up the scar crows but it seems to be missing but fresh ropes lays over the arm parts. I turn around and all the sudden my body is knocked to the ground by a large hard object tackling me .GET OFF ME I scream as the man who pummeled me to the ground holds me down sitting on my legs so I cant fight back. Should have kept running darling you're in for it now he says as the other two apear behind him. Fuck all of you I spit as they all hover over me . The one holding me down hoists me up and the others grab my arms as they push me back into the cross. The ropes that were hanging are all the sudden around my wrists as they tie me to the cross and my breathing starts to pick up . What the fuck are you doing stop take me down now I say to them as I start to panic. Mmmm no. You knew we'd come for you after you sent Darren to prison and now... you'll pay for your sins the one in the black mask says as he steps close to me and I suck in a breathe . He deserves every single year he’ll be in there and I will never be sorry for it. I say as I try to kick him in the leg but fail when my arms burn form the movement causing me to whine. Easy sweetheart your only going to hurt yourself if you keep doing that the one in the red mask says as he steps up to me . Now are you ready to pay for your sins red masks says . What fucking sins I did what had to be done I bite back.

You see sending him to prison hurt all of us and you're going to repay us . You're going to be our own personal slut . We'll take every part of you until you finally realize what you did was a huge mistake black mask says as he steps up to me grabbing me by the neck . Hell no I scold him . These three boys are crazy and deranged . So dark that it feels like the moon barely even shows when they appear.

Jake mullin , Kade Brooksville and Connor palemess are some of the worst guys you'll ever meet . They are so attractive it hurts to even look at them but they have the worst personality known to man. I knew that they would make me pay for sending their best friend to prison but after Darren killed my brother I went psychotic and tracked down any information I could to put him behind bars but at what cost.

Now they want to use my body in a form of pay back for what I did. I should be angry and disgusted but ... the thought of these three men using me like their own personal toy has me dripping wet and embarrassingly I want them in ways i've never wanted a man in my life .

They each rip off their masks and i'm met with their faces.

Jake with his blue eyes and blond hair with a perfect jawline and juicy lips, Kade with his dark hair , stubble over his sharp jaw and perfect green eyes and last Conner with his hazel eyes and sandy brown hair with a perfect button nose and sharp jaw.

Kade steps in front of me as his hands move to my waist in a tight grip causing me to gasp .Now be a good girl and spread your legs he says deeply as he towers over me . I swallow but do as im told not feeling like putting up a fight and excepting the punishment for my actions. He pulls my shorts down along with my underwear tossing them back to Jake as his right hand moves down to my bare pussy causing me to gasp. mm someones dripping wet he says with a smirk that I wish I could punch off his face . Fuck you I say as I look up at his green eyes that are boring into me . He shoves two fingers inside me and I moan out as he speeds them up and grips my jaw with the other . Look at you such a slut enjoying what i'm doing to you he says as he gets in my face keeping eye contact as I struggle to keep my eyes from rolling back. i'm shaking and moaning as my orgasm washes over me . Kade chuckling in my face as he watches me fall apart .

Connor come behind her and hold her legs up Kade says as he starts unbuckling his belt. My eyes widen as my body is picking up and conners strong veiny arms wrap underneath my thighs holding me up. Kades jeans drop to his ankles as he moves to take his boxers off too. I look down to see his long and thick dick clad with 4 Jacobs ladder piercings making me gulp.

He steps up to me and I meet eyes with him as his glisten with lust and a tinge of devilish intent. He smirks at me and I want to die right here right now. I should be fighting this I should be disgusted but... i've never wanted something so much in my life. This is going to hurt but punishments shouldn't be enjoyable. he says deeply as he slides the tip in causing me to gasp and my face to squeeze in discomfort. So fucking tight he groans as he slides more in and I feel every piercing as he thrusts in all the way and I scream. The pain of the stretch has my hands balling to fists and my eyes to water. He starts pounding into me harshly as my breathing is rapid and my muscles tense the pain hurts so good. Thats it take it all he groans as he gropes my ass and pounds faster hitting my g spot repeatedly . This goes on for god knows how long and I’ve lost count of how many orgasms I’ve had . All I can do is breathe harshly when he finally finishes inside me and pulls out as Conner drops my legs and I hang on the ropes as my legs give out. Mmm I think we should just leave you here like this Kade says as he buttons his jeans and looks at me .My face is covered in tears and spit and I struggle to keep my eyes open from the exhaustion my body is feeling right now .Please don’t I whisper with a raspy voice . He chuckles as he tells the others to untie my wrists and Conner puts my short back on but keeps my underwear shoving them in his back pocket . Kade picks me up throwing me over his shoulder and walks back through the maze to his car throwing me in and driving back to their large mansion .

I take a deep breathe and stare at my computer when I finish reading the story unable to meet his eyes.

I mean y/n I must say you’re an amazing writer . You know how to set a science and really make the reader be able to envision where the story takes place.

Thank you sir I say but I still don’t look at him

When you write these stories do you envision yourself as the girl character he asks in a tone that has my eyes snapping up to meet his

Ummm … I guess yeah

Interesting he says as a smile forms on his face

You could easily be a dark romance author you have a talent for it … I mean these fantasy’s are thoroughly thought through and I think people would enjoy reading something like this. If I have to admit I read a lot of dark romance books myself and your writing reminds me a lot of books I’ve read and enjoyed

I smile at him as my face blushes and he notices as a smirk comes to his face.

Thank you sir I … appreciate that a lot

He stands up from his chair and come behind me as he bends down to be ear level with me.

Now. You better keep that promise about coming to my class from now on . I know you can be a good girl for me okay .

His voice so deep in my ear I feel the vibrations in my head and I accidentally let a whine out when he says good girl again and I hear him chuckle in my ear as he places a hand on my shoulder as he stands up to his full height.

Thank you for staying ms y/l/n . I can’t wait to read your next piece have a good weekend

I grab my computer and smile at him .

You too Mr Sturniolo I say as I rush up the stairs to my bag and rush out of the class room.

God wtf is wrong with me I think as I get back to my apartment and flop down onto my bed .

the way he spoke into my ear .... the heat of his hand on my shoulder... the way he calls me good girl.

the way i'm thinking about my professor right now is not okay and I know that but fuck me I cant stop myself from going to my nightstand and grabbing my vibrator.

Ever since I left that building tonight I couldn't deny the pulsing between my thighs and wetness that pooled when I read my story to him .

I strip and lay down on my bed as my minds ran wild with thoughts of professor Sturniolo .

maybe this will get him out of my head and ill be able to focus from now on.

Matts pov-

Y/n is a great writer but god reading her story each week drives me wild. I know thinking of students sexually is wrong and morally illegal but I cant help myself .

I was pissed off that she skipped two weeks of my class ... yeah obviously because she should be focused on finishing out her senior year with passing grades but also because I love watching her in my classroom as she works on her dirty little stories.

The way she bites her lip in concentration… the little smirk she gets when I know she’s writing a dirty line… the way she clenches her thighs when I call her a good girl

I know she’s my student and I shouldn’t be thinking these things about her but … I pull up her last story in my computer and decide this is the least time I’ll ever jerk off to the thought of her.

I need to clear her out of my head and be professional from now on .

Next class is gonna be different….

Part 2 coming soon 💋

[gogodollie]

sister imperator being the one to give copia his first few t shots.

you know how sister is- if she wants something done, it will get done. so when copia offhandedly starts talking ti her about other siblings that are on hormone therapy copia, she gets the hint and goes ahead with starting that process. being on the dyke scene in the 60s, sister would have a good chance of actually having the resources to get access to hrt and know where to get some semblance of knowledge on how to dose copia (or at least she’s hitting up her old butches to call in a favor to figure things out for him). a week, a month, two months pass and suddenly she’s knocking on copia’s door with a small brown paper bag in one hand and a bright red sharps container hanging at her side.

she sits him down on the lidded toilet and kneels in front of him while she talks him through the process, putting each item up on the countertop beside them as she goes through the instructions- needle, draw, swap, syringe, swab, inject. simple, right? copia is nodding along all big and bright eyed, heart racing in his chest as he tries to follow her movements but the excitement and adrenaline is all getting to him. once everything has been gone over, sister will awkwardly slap his knee as she stands up to leave and wishes him luck. the bathroom is so so empty without her there but it gives copia a second to breathe, gave him arms and body a big shake to try and get the jitters out enough to focus on the task. he’s able to get through drawing up the medication and nervously swap the needle caps, pinch the fat of his stomach before he’s suddenly frozen and realizes how much his hand holding the filled syringe is shaking. just this once, he figured he could handle needles and shots and injections and all of that good stuff- that it wouldn’t be like the times he spent kicking and crying in the doctors office for his routine shots because he wants this so badly. but he’s stuck in place and can’t bring himself to do it.

shuffles out of the bathroom with teary eyes and tells imperator i think maybe this is too soon and maybe i should wait a little longer but sister can see through it and, mildly worriedly, leads him back to the bathroom by the elbow to sit him down again. she’s not good with comfort and tears; can’t read emotions as well as she probably should be able to and certainly doesn’t know how to react to them, she never has been. but she knows how much this all means to copia. so instead of playing along, she tells him that she can do it. grabs the needle from where it’s seated on the plastic packing and the alcohol swab where she had placed it minutes earlier. spares copia a glance, a raised eyebrow challenging him to tell her that he was serious about not being ready but she’s just met with a nervous nod and a quiet “alrighty” in confirmation. copia’s face screws up squeaks out a nervous sounding “did you do it yet?” imperator sighs and assures him that the cold he felt was, in fact, just the alcohol swab. she carefully pinches the baby fat of his stomach, and pushes the needle in as carefully as she can without letting it draw on, knowing that if copia holds his breath any longer he’ll probably faint. drops the used needle into the disposal and reaches over for the tin of bandaids, scoffs fondly when she pulls out one with a pixelated luke skywalker on the front of it and sticks it over the small bead of blood that’s begun to form on his abdomen. copia finally opens his eyes- looks down at his stomach, then to the vial on the counter next to him, then to sister. nerves and excitement are still eating at him as he thanks sister, rambles on about something in his classes to try and seek favor or a distraction or something that she can relate to but she just nods slow and disposes the used items. she’ll stand up and place a hand on his shoulder and look like she’s about to speak but her mouth opens and she has nothing to say so she gives a curt nod instead, like he’s supposed to understand what that means.

for the next month, each week sister will set up station in the bathroom and help with his doses until he works up the courage and comfort enough to tell her that he thinks he can handle it now- and she’ll pass over the syringe and vial because she knows he can. she can’t do the emotional part of this all, can’t hold copia and assure him he shouldn’t be afraid and that his worries don’t worry her too. but she can handle the practical things, can fight to make sure copia gets what he needs and prays that will be enough for however long it takes.

[pirategirl4l]

Teach ya — pt. 2

pairing: Dom!matt x Reader.

summary: it’s been a week since Y/n lost her virginity to her best friend, Chris, and everything has been weirdly normal. You two are still friends and no one even talks about it. Well, except Matt, he has been thinking about it all week. He always thought you were hot, but before finding out you had sex with his brother, Matt never thought of you sexually. Until one day he can’t take it anymore and talks to you about it…

warning: smutt, cursing, pet names, unprotected sex.

part 1

Matt’s pov.

There she was, sitting on my couch, next to my brother, acting like nothing ever happened, acting like his dick wasn’t inside of her last week.

Everyone was acting normal, actually, and it was driving me nuts! No matter how i tried, I can’t forget that happened.

I always knew she was hot, she obviously is. But i never had thoughts of her like that, my creativity was leaving me on the edge every time she came over. Gladly, nobody ever realizes, but I don’t know for how much more I can hide it.

My mind always goes to forbidden places, like, what it would be like to have my dick inside of her, having her scratch my back and moan my name.

Y/n drops her phone on the floor, she gets up and bent down, grabbing her phone. Which she doesn’t know, is that her mini white skirt doesn’t cover up her pink lace panties.

I feel my pants tightening around my thighs as she sits back down on the couch. Fuck.

I groan, getting up and up the stairs, I open my bedroom door and go inside my bathroom, locking the door.

Y/n, look what you done to me.

Y/n’s pov.

“What’s up with him?” I ask, seeing Matt get up and go to his room, sounding mad.

Chris shrugges, watching his phone. I ignored it.

The air conditioner was set to fucking 60 degrees, giving chills all over my body.

“Ugh, i’m so cold.” I whine, hugging myself. “Why do you like to leave this house fucking freezing?”

Chris turns his phone off, looking at me, his blue eyes meet mine. “I don’t know, bro” He says, putting his feet of top of the center table. “Go get a blanket in Matt’s room.”

I nod, getting up and going up the stairs. As I get to the second floor, i walk through the big corridor, going to Matt’s door.

I knock in his door, but get nothing in response, so after a few seconds, get in. But, Matt wasn’t there.

I ignore it, looking around to find the blanket. I see the comfy white blanket next to the bathroom door. I walk to there and bent down we to grab the blanket, but when I do that, i hear something going from the bathroom.

It was… Matt, but he was whimpering and his breathing was fast. What the fuck is he doing??

“Fuck- Y/n” I hear his voice moaning my name.

Oh my god, is he jerking off to me?!

I feel my heart beating and my breathing accelerated, i never knew Matt felt that way about me!

A heat going through all of my body as I listen him washing his hands. But when I hear the door unlocking, i feel my body freezing, i couldn’t move.

His door opens slowly, but he doesn’t realize me yet. But when his gaze looks up, his ocean blue eyes meet mine, in shock.

“Y/n” He says, his voice ringing in my ear, echoing. “What are you doing here?”

“Uhm…” I try to answer, but nothing came to my head. “I-i just came to grab a… a blanket” I laugh nervously, showing the white blanket in my hand.

“Why didn’t you knock?!” He asks, now seeming annoyed, his voice went up, his browns furrowing.

“I did! You were just too busy to hear…” I say, looking down, realizing just after what I said.

“Did you hear that…?” He scratches the back of his neck, obviously nervous. Your gaze meet your feet, trying to contain a cocky smile.

The thought of Matt Sturniolo getting hard because of you, and jerking off moaning your name made the heat between your legs grow, you squeeze your thighs together to try to stop it.

“Yeah, i kinda did. Pretty busy with the thought of me huh?” I say cockily, his smirk growing in his lips.

“Don’t act like you didn’t want the attention though, coming over with this little skirt that doesn’t cover your pretty lace panties, like a slut.” Matt walks closer to me, taking large and slow steps. He looks up and down at me, bringing chills all over my body.

His hands goes to my waist, the cold of his ring touching my warm skin. I slightly gasp, which makes me chuckle.

“I am not even touching you right” He comes closer, his face inches to mine, his minty and warm breath hitting my face.

His blue eyes were dark, his pupil occupying all the space. His hair was falling over his face, but still couldn’t cover the shine in his eyes.

My heart beat was fast, as he leaned down and pressed a kiss on my cheek, so so close to my mouth.

“Do you know how much i have been thinking about you? Thinking about you and my brother fucking, it’s driving me insane” His voice was raspy and low, my mouth slightly open, searching for air to occupied my whole lungs.

“But, all of this has been making me want to fuck you, not Chris, me.” His words ringed in my ear as he continued to stare at me with dark and focused eyes.

“Oh, i-i” I shutter, trying to focus on anything but the memory of his noises and whimpers to me.

“I know you want too, I see you squeezing your thighs together” His cold hands suddenly go to my ass, his rings going down and down until his hands are inside my skirt. “Do you want me to fuck you, baby?”

The nickname alone made you give in, making you nod, like a needy slut. Matt chuckles, looking at you with a cocky smirk.

“I need words, gorgeous girl” You took a deep breath before answering him.

“Yes, please” Your voice was shaking, and before you could even think, his soft and pink lips met yours with hunger.

His tongue grazed your bottom lip, asking for passage, which you quickly accepted it. His tongue explored your whole mouth with dominance, you didn’t even try to fight back.

One of his hand went up your jaw, holding you like he wouldn’t let you escape. But the other on continued down, going more and more close to where you need him most. His agile fingers quickly met your clit, doing circular moves.

“Already so wet for me, yeah?” He interrupted the kiss, his touch making you moan quietly. His fingers stop suddenly, making you miss his touch.

“Matt” You whine, making his laugh. He mumbles a ‘wait’ and picks you up by the ass, taking to his bed and dropping you on the fluffy king size bed.

He appreciates you for a second before diving in, kissing your neck, leaving purple marks and small bites. His big hands go inside your shirt, meets by you bra, he goes to your back, unclipping your bra in one second.

Without even hesitation, Matt takes your shirt and bra in one go, leaving your breasts naked for him to see.

He licks his lips and smile, leaving a trail of wet kisses all over your body, through your tits, stomach, before reaching the hem of your skirt.

“So, so gorgeous” The vibrations from his voice run through all of your body. The tingles nonstop, you getting annoyed with how long he was taking.

“Please, Matt” Your whining made his ego growing even more, the fact that you were craving his touch so much you couldn’t even wait made him feel really confident.

“Alright, my needy brat” He chuckles, quickly becoming serious again. He takes of your skirt, your panties were already soaked, which made him even harder.

He kisses your stomach, going down until he’s kissing your inner thighs, his mouth giving you goosebumps. His fingers played with the hem of your panties, slowly taking off of you.

The vision he has it’s just so much better of what he ever imagined, his hard on was hurting at this moment, but he spent a whole week imagining you, so he was gonna take his time.

Matt’s mouth went closer and closer to your weak spot, his kisses making you weak to your knees. His mouth met your clit, he kissed it gently before sliding his tongue through all of your folds.

You moan, biting your lower lip to contain your noises. His tongue hitting just the right spot every time, your legs trying to close, but Matt kept his hands on your thighs to stop you.

“Keep open for me, baby” You hear his raspy voice saying, the vibrations of his voice trembling through your body.

Matt keeps licking and kissing you, so you soon feel that familiar knot creating on your stomach. You whine and moan, ready to release at any moment.

Matt puts your legs over his shoulders, hitting a new angle, an even better angle, your knees tremble, and you feel your orgasm approaching, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Matt, i-i” You shutter, not being able to talk straight. “I’m gonna-“

You interrupt yourself, feeling you liquid leave your body, going all over Matt’s mouth. He licks every drop of it, leaning over you and kissing you passionately, you could feel you taste in his tongue.

“God, you taste so good baby” He says during the kiss, you whimper in his mouth, as you feel his erection brush over your exposed part.

Matt unbuckle his pants and pull them down, his bikers were completely filled, you gasp just imagining the feeling of him inside of you.

“Are you ready?” He asks, towering over you, you nod a yes, and anxious yes.

Matt take of his boxers, you feel yourself getting wet again from the view. You take a deep breath, as Matt aligns himself with your entrance, you feel his tip brushing towards your hole.

“You gonna be a good girl and take my dick, huh?” He smirks, you close your eyes and nod, letting a small moan leave your mouth.

Matt slowly pushes himself into you, his inches going one for one inside your hole. You moan, rolling your eyes back. He whimpers in your ear, making you weak.

“Fuck, you’re so tight baby” His raspy voice drives you insane. You feel your walls clenching a round him as he finishes pushing all of his inches into you.

He’s big, but he doesn’t wait for you to adapt. So soon Matt starts thrusting in and out, first slowly, then faster.

He’s faster in every push, your skins slapping together fills the room together with your moans. You’re both panting as Matt goes into you and out.

“Tell me, tell me if I’m better than Chris, huh?” Matt whimpers in your ear, you can’t think of anything but his dick inside of you, filling your whole.

You quickly nod, not being able to speak. Matt’s going on a fast speed, faster than you ever experienced.

Chris was amazing, but he was slow and careful. Matt is being rough and harsh.

“I want to hear your pretty voice, baby” He smirks at you, his thumb travels to your clit, doing circular movements while still thrusting into you.

“You- mhm” You try to speak, as you press you eyes shut. “Better”

“Made you cock drunk, yeah? Matt presses a kiss on your cheek, you whine, feeling your orgasm approaching for the second time.

Your walls tighten around his dick, as he reaches a faster pace, your skins slapping together and you moan out his name.

“Matt-“ You open your eyes, seeing him looking at you with a smile like he isn’t fucking your brains out. “I’m coming”

He groans, his thrusts becoming sloppy. “Let it go for me, baby”

As his raspy and low voice rings in your ear, you feel yourself releasing, the knot in your stomach disappearing as your liquid falls over his cock.

Matt wasn’t far behind, and after a few seconds, you feel him filling you up with his cum.

You both are panting, as Matt goes out of you, but yet doesn’t lay down. He pushes his thumb into your hole, not letting not even a drop of cum leave you. “Making sure nothing comes out”

Matt lays down next to you, turning to the side to face you. His hand travels to your face, his fingers caressing your face as you get your breath back.

“This was better than i ever imagined, Y/n” He says and turns your face to look at him, his eyes were shining and his smile was lightening you.

You smile too, as you see him getting closer and placing a sweet, slow kiss on your lips. Matt grabs the blanket and cover you, as you feel yourself tired.

“Matt, it was perfect” You say in a low and sweet voice, he smiles and pushes you closer to him.

His hand on your waist and his breathing on your neck was the perfect scenario, and you slowly falls asleep.

[scotianostra]

On January 15th 1968 a Hurricane devastates Scotland.

The 1968 Hurricane Low Q was a deadly storm that moved through the Central Belt of Scotland during mid January 1968. It was described as Central Scotland's worst natural disaster since records began and the worst gale in the British Isles.

Around 250,000 homes were damaged across Scotland, resulting in almost 2,000 people becoming temporarily homeless. The storm, , arrived during the night, when most people were at home in bed, blowing in house and shop windows, tearing roofs off buildings and trees from the ground.

Our nation is no stranger to howling winds and dangerous weather, but this hurricane took twenty lives, nine in Glasgow alone.

Homes, shops, cars and churches were all desolated by the strong gusts brought on by Hurricane Low Q, they might have had crap names back then but it didn’t make them less dangerous, which first hit land through the night of 14 January 1968.

The Daily Record reported at the time that two mothers and their daughters died when a chimney head fell through a tenement on Dumbarton Road in the city. A mother and her three-year-old daughter from Swindon, Wiltshire, lost their lives, they had come to Glasgow for the funeral of her mother, who died in a fire in Govan the previous Saturday.

Also killed were Mrs Janet Gowran, 40, and her youngest daughter Nancy, 10. A 5 year-old-girl was killed at her home in Port Street, Anderston and a 25-year-old pregnant nurse was lost her life when a chimney head crashed through her ground floor flat in North Kelvinside.

The freak hurricane also claimed the life of a 38-year-old woman at Willowbank Street in Woodside, a 60-year-old woman at Niddrie Road, Crosshill and a man who lost his life at his home in Arlington Street, Charing Cross.

The chaos was referred to by police as worse than the Clydebank Blitz. The hurricane was the worst storm to hit the Scotland for 30 years, with winds of over 100 miles an hour.

In Glasgow 70,000 corporation houses were damaged, 1100 chimney heads collapsed and 69 tenement buildings eventually had to be demolished. I was not just the day after the storm that emergency services were busy. The clean-up lasted for days and weeks after and the Daily Record reported at the time that it would be nine months before telephone lines were restored!

The damage cost the city millions of pounds.

The dates are all over the place with this one, you would think that it being so recent the event would have been well documented and dated, I could have posted this on any one of 6 days as that is how long the storm lasted in full. Sources vary for the wind speeds as well but different areas were obviously more exposed, Glasgow seen highs of 103 mph while the Cairngorms got battered with an incredible 173 mph.

After the storm moved away, the death toll continued to rise. 30 people died from repairing houses so in total it caused 50 deaths.

On 16th January 1968, about 150 troops from Edinburgh came to Glasgow to help with the clean-up operation. There was little national press coverage of the storm, despite it affecting most of northern England, Northern Ireland and Scotland. An interest-free loan of £500,000 was given by the Government to the affected areas. Singer Frankie Vaughan began to raise funds for the victims of the storm by holding a special concert at Alhambra Theatre in Glasgow.

The damage wasn’t contained to Glasgow in Edinburgh windows were blown in, roofs and trees were ripped up, cars were crushed and chimney stacks collapsed. Hundreds of people were left destitute and thousands more were left without power in the aftermath. A couple were crushed to death by falling masonry when their chimney crashed through the roof of their home in Dalry. The city’s Scott Monument lost one of the 80ft-high pinnacles from its first tier. It smashed a floodlight on its way down, embedding itself a foot into the ground, as seen in the last pic.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Mask bans disenfranchise millions of Americans with disabilities - Published Aug 20, 2024

Last week, a mask ban in Nassau County, New York was signed into law. If I lived just 60 miles east of my New Jersey town, I would be under threat of a fine or jail time every time I left the house.

I’ve been masking consistently in public since 2020, when the Covid-19 pandemic began, because I have a kidney transplant and will take immunosuppressant medication for the rest of my life. Unfortunately, my lifesaving medication also makes me more susceptible to infectious diseases like measles, the flu, and Covid-19. Even when people like me are vaccinated against the virus, we are at higher risk of being infected and are more likely to experience adverse health outcomes, including hospitalization and death.

The legislation in Nassau County and elsewhere primarily targets people who wear masks to hide their identity while committing crimes or during public protests, specifically against the ongoing genocide in Palestine. Masks are defined as any facial covering that disguises the face, and facial coverings worn for religious or health reasons are exempt. But people like me, who wear masks for health reasons, are disproportionally affected by these bans even when they include medical exemptions.

That’s because although the Nassau mask ban contains provisions for people who mask for medical reasons, it is up to the police to determine whether someone has a medical reason for masking if they are out in public. This means that enforcing the ban is subjective and will disproportionally impact Black people and people of color, who are more likely to be stopped by police and are also more likely to wear masks to prevent Covid. This is in part because Black and Latinx Americans are more cautious in their approach to the pandemic, reflecting the higher hospitalization and death rates in these communities. The Nassau mask ban as it is written is reminiscent of a “Stop and Frisk” law, which allows police to temporarily detain, question, and search people without a warrant.

This isn’t just localized to Nassau County; mask bans have been proposed or passed in multiple states, including North Carolina, Ohio, and California. For example, in North Carolina, where I lived for six years while completing my doctorate, a state-wide ban was recently passed. Although the final bill also includes a health exemption, it originally prohibited masking even for medical reasons. This medical exemption was only added after strong pushback from disability advocates.

There is also a statewide mask ban under consideration in New York state, where many people in my immediate family live. The bill as it is currently written bans masks not just during protests but also for people engaging in lawful assembly, or a peaceful gathering of more than two people for a lawful purpose, in the state. I’m not an expert on the New York state legislature, so I don’t know how likely it is to pass. But if it does, it means that my parents and I would be violating the law if we did something as banal as go on a walk together outdoors while wearing masks, because the bill allows people to wear masks for medical reasons only during a declared public health emergency. (The federal Covid public health emergency was declared over in 2023.) Again, enforcement of these bans is up to the police, who are not medical experts and who will apply the law unevenly. The right of peaceful assembly is part of the First Amendment, and mask bans are an infringement on everyone’s rights.

That is doubly true for disabled people participating in peaceful protest. Without protests, we would not have the Americans with Disabilities Act. A series of demonstrations beginning at San Francisco in 1977 and concluding in 1990 at the Capitol building’s “Capitol Crawl” helped codify disability rights into law in the United States. At the Capitol Crawl demonstration, 60 people with disabilities, many of them wheelchair users, crawled up the Capitol steps to illustrate structural barriers and to show that disability rights are a civil rights issue. Disabled people have relied on protesting to get our basic needs met. Mask bans don’t just take away our right to protest; they take away our right to peacefully exist in public. They are an infringement on everyone’s rights and are a threat to American democracy.

There is another reason for banning masks: the strong push for people to “return to normal” during the “post-pandemic” era. Masking is a reminder that the pandemic is still ongoing. In the same week that Nassau County passed its mask ban, weekly test positivity in the United States was the highest it has been since February 2022 and continues to climb. The CDC and other public health agencies encourage people to wear masks when respiratory viruses are causing high numbers of infection and illness in the community, especially in congregate or crowded settings. It’s a good idea for everyone to be wearing a mask right now when they are out in public.

People who are immunocompromised are told to wear masks in addition to getting vaccinated, improving air ventilation, and making sure our close contacts also receive the vaccine. But current coverage with the Covid-19 vaccines is low; only 22.3% of adults have received a vaccine dose in the past year. This means that I can’t return to your unmasked “normal.” The new normal includes exposure to a virulent, airborne illness that circulates year-round, with seasonal spikes that correspond to times of high travel and congregate indoor activities.

If masks are banned where I live, I will have to make the choice between endangering my transplant and my health every time I leave the house, or to remain on permanent lockdown in my home. As disability oracle and activist Alice Wong reminds us, mask bans are an extension of “ugly laws,” historical laws and ordinances that prevented disabled people from being in public. We deserve to be seen and to be included in public life. Mask bans are a threat not just to disabled people, but to all of us. It’s never too late to start masking again—to protect not just your health and the health of people around you, but also to protect our fundamental human rights.

[highwaywhump]

Febuwhump day 2

soo... probably (definitely) not going to finish this event on time (if at all). my workload suddenly doubled this semester but here's something at least. for febuwhump day 2 i have tried to get to know my nameless guard dog. here's his origin story, starting about 20 years prior to joey's story

CW/TW: captivity, collars/chains, forced drugging, controlled food intake, pet whump/bbu in general

--

“He’s not breaking.” 

“He will.” 

“60 says he won’t.” 

“90 says he will.” 

“Shut up, both of you.” 

The two junior handlers snap their mouths shut, turning away from the monitor and towards senior handler Kerry. He’s leaning back in his office chair, unbothered, flipping through a quarterly report on customer success rates. His numbers are good, as usual. In fact, there’s an upwards trend. If it continues like this over the summer, there will undoubtedly be another raise beginning to rear its head from the deep, deep waters of this facility. 

Kerry glances at the monitor. Nothing’s changed since he glanced at it last, 20 minutes ago. Nearly nothing’s changed since the feed started rolling, six days ago. He returns to his paperwork again, after sparing a pointed look at his two supposed protegees. They both hurriedly look down at their own paperwork, studying training manuals, only sneaking glances at the monitor when they don’t think Kerry’s looking. But he sees them every time. He absentmindedly clicks his pen and longingly recalls the days when corporal punishment in the workplace - in this workplace, at least - was still allowed. 

They sit for another hour or so before Kerry announces that they’ll break for lunch with a grunt, and the junior handlers scurry off to the cafeteria while he unpacks his own meticulously made sandwich. The little domestic taking up space in his laundry room sure knows her stuff, he thinks as he angles the monitor a little, finally allowing himself a closer look now that the twin idiots are gone. 

The idea of pets taking on the role as personal security isn’t new, at least not in practice. Rich assholes who think the world revolves around them have always wanted dedicated security. The Guard Dog type, however, is quite new. The specimen on the monitor is only the third generation, and a young generation at that. He was brought in only two weeks ago, a mean fucker just dishonorably discharged, with a glint in his eye and blood on his knuckles. 

Well. A tether slightly too high up on the wall and a high-powered cold water hose took care of at least one of those problems. As for his unpleasant disposition … Kerry was doing something about that right now. Had been, for the last six days. And the project was just beginning to bear the flowers which eventually would become fruits. 

The previous two generations had been too volatile, too easy to make lash out, and not only at potential threats. WRU could only pay out so much hush money before the media had started to notice. The third generation had to be perfect, and Kerry was one of a small group of handlers who had been served the task. A delicate mission to snuff out every little spark and flame inside the beasts and then create new, tailor-made gas flames in their wake, perfectly controllable and able to be extinguished by the flick of a verbal switch. A killer robot of flesh and blood. 

The monitor showed 603-014 sitting against the wall, arms around his bowed head, very slightly shifting his weight back and forth. Kerry almost thought he could see a crescent shape in the floor surrounding him, as if his pacing (of which there was less and less, these days) had created a track in the floor. The nine feet of chain extending from his collar to a ring in the wall contained him like a mean junkyard dog at the end of a rope. 

He hadn’t been outside the crescent in a week, much less outside his cell. 

In the same period, he hadn’t seen a single other human. Nothing but the same four white walls and his own tethered body. After two days of screaming and crying and cursing and begging he’d lost his voice, and it was still only a hoarse and gravelly whimpering that would come through the speakers if Kerry decided to turn on the sound. 

He glanced at his watch. It was soon time for 014’s daily prescribed five hour nap and his allotted 1300 calories - served in a dog bowl, of course. The two goons could do it, he figured, as he considered his own reuben sandwich, which seemed too good to leave right now. As if summoned by his thoughts, the two of them shuffled into his office, each holding a steaming hot styrofoam container. 

“Great timing,” Kerry announced, not even allowing them time to set their food down. “Time for some practical training. 014 needs his daily rest and nourishment.” 

“Handler Kerry-!”

“I trust you remember where the respiratory gear is,” he broke them off merrily as he reached for the control board mounted on his desk, which controlled every environmental condition in every cell he was responsible for. As they begrudgingly set their food down and removed themselves from his office, he found the right switch and pushed it down. The big lug would be sleeping blissfully in a few minutes, and Kerry would get to watch his mentees undoubtedly fuck up even the simple task of correctly fitting a gas mask on themselves before entering a room filled with anesthetic gas. 

It would be lunch and a show.

--

@simplygrimly @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @briars7 @hackles-up @doveotions @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @kixngiggles @firewheeesky @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @whumpthisway @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumping-snail @pumpkin-spice-whump @pigeonwhumps @whumplr-reader @considerablecolors @dustypinetree @snakebites-and-ink

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Noah Berlatsky at Public Notice:

Just three days after President Joe Biden dropped out of the presidential race and endorsed Vice President Kamala Harris, Harris has already secured enough delegates to be the presumptive Democratic nominee. The speed with which the party came together around her is inspiring. Harris has been endorsed by almost everyone who matters in Democratic politics — senators, governors, key organizations, unions. She’s also raised some $100 million and counting from more than 880,000 small donors, more than 60 percent of whom hadn’t contributed before this cycle. If anyone was on the fence about whether Biden stepping aside was the right move, they probably aren’t now.

The past three days have been a remarkable display of Democratic consensus and unity after a bitter intra-party argument over whether Biden should be the nominee. The rush to support Harris also indicates that the party believes she can beat the Republican candidate — giant orange fascist blight Donald Trump. New Harris-Trump polling started trickling out yesterday, and it contained good news for Democrats. A Reuters/Ipsos poll taken entirely after Biden announced his decision to step aside showed Harris up two points nationally (and up four points when RFK Jr. is included). Another poll showed Harris and Trump tied. Given that Harris just had her first rally as the presumptive candidate yesterday, we’ll need more time to figure out exactly how the race has changed. But there are already a number of reasons to be hopeful about her prospects of winning this November.

Unifying looked easy. It’s not.

The first indication of Harris’s strength is … well, pretty much everything that’s happened since Sunday. Harris has been pilloried over the last four years as a middling politician, largely on the grounds that she suspended her 2020 presidential campaign before Iowa. The reliably confused Pamela Paul at the New York Times, for example, argued this week that “Harris is a fundamentally weak candidate” who “fizzled out” in the presidential race. As political scientist Jonathan Bernstein points out, though, Harris’s candidacy didn’t fizzle out. She had solid endorsements and decent polling — but she figured out that Biden was too far ahead to beat in a very crowded field and dropped out early. That allowed her to stay on good terms with party actors and put her in a position to get the vice presidency. That’s not losing. It’s winning.

[...]

Harris and abortion rights

Harris is also well positioned to run on some of the central issues of the election. In particular, she’s a good voice for the party on abortion, which has been an especially energizing issue since the Supreme Court gutted abortion rights in its Dobbs decision in 2022. The Dobbs decision was hugely unpopular and remains so, even in Republican strongholds — anti-abortion measures in deep red states like Ohio and Kentucky have gone down to defeat. Democratic strength in the 2022 and 2023 off-year elections have been attributed by most analysts to the electorate’s support for abortion rights. Democrats are fighting to get abortion referendums on the ballot in November in states like including Arizona, Nebraska, and Florida. Despite Democratic successes under his watch, Biden has always been an imperfect messenger on abortion rights. A devout Catholic, he started his career by arguing that the Roe decision protecting abortion rights “went too far.”

Biden is now solidly pro-choice, and his administration has of course defended abortion rights, most recently winning a Supreme Court case defending abortion pills. But his ambivalence lingers. Even in 2023, after Dobbs, Biden was careful to note his own personal discomfort with abortion procedures, stating in one speech, “I happen to be a practicing Catholic. I’m not big on abortion.” Immediately following the Dobbs ruling, Biden’s administration struggled to come up with a strong rhetorical or policy response. He’s also been weirdly reluctant to even say the word “abortion” in speeches. Harris has no such reticence. She visited a Planned Parenthood clinic in March; she’s believed to be the first president or vice president to ever visit a clinic providing abortion services.

[...]

Harris the prosecutor

On Monday, in her first big speech after Biden’s endorsement, Harris emphasized her experience as a prosecutor and said it put her in a strong position to make the case against Trump. “I was a courtroom prosecutor,” she said. “In those roles I took on perpetrators of all kinds. Predators who abused women. Fraudsters who ripped off consumers. Cheaters who broke the rules for their own gain. So hear me when I say I know Donald Trump's type.” She hit the same theme yesterday during her first campaign rally as the presumptive Democratic nominee. It was so well received by her audience in suburban Milwaukee that the crowd broke out in “KA-MA-LA! KA-MA-LA!” chants.

The contrast here is glaring. A jury found Trump liable for sexually assaulting writer and journalist E. Jean Carroll; he’s been accused of sexual assault and harassment by numerous other women. He was convicted of fraud for misvaluing assets in New York. A jury convicted him of falsifying business records to cover up hush money payments before the 2016 election. He also faces charges involving mishandling of classified documents and illegally attempting to overturn the 2020 election.

Harris got her start in politics, as she says, as a prosecutor. As San Francisco’s DA and California’s AG, she went after fraudsters engaged in Trump-like scams. She obtained a $1.1 billion judgment against for-profit Corinthian College for fraud (Trump, for his part, agreed to a $25 million settlement after his so-called Trump University was sued for deceptive practices). She also won an $18 billion settlement against large banks for foreclosure misconduct. (Trump is promising massive deregulation of Wall Street.) Parts of Harris’s record in California are controversial with progressives. She threatened to prosecute parents of chronically absent children. No one was actually sent to jail, but as a policy, using prisons to threaten struggling parents is not a great precedent. Her record has also been criticized by sex workers and by drug law reformers (she prosecuted 1,900 people for marijuana violations). But Harris’s background as a prosecutor isn’t as much of a problem for her today as it was when she was running for president in 2019 — before covid, the George Floyd murder, and the ensuing spike in crime across the country. She’s also no longer running against Democrats — she’s running against Trump, whose criminal justice policies are nightmarish.

Project 2025, the Heritage Project blueprint for a Trump second term, is rabidly anti-sex worker; it proposes criminalizing porn as a step towards criminalizing trans and LGBT people (whose very existence the right considers pornographic). And Trump wants to deport millions of undocumented immigrants, a massive undertaking that evokes histories of police states and concentration camps.

Noah Berlatsky wrote in Public Notice about how Kamala Harris has united Democrats in her short time as the presumptive nominee.

Harris’s robust defense of abortion rights and her prosecutor record are her biggest assets this election.

[punchdrunkdoc]

Part 3, Chapter 20

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness? Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 4 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

————–

PART 3

Chapter 20

“When I asked for a favour, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Jessica said in her wry voice as the two of them crouched behind a pickup truck.

“I know,” Calina replied, as she finished typing out her message to Matt. “But I told you - I need to do this.”

Jessica leaned over to read the text on her phone and shook her head. “‘Fighting bad guys, be home later.’ Seriously? You couldn’t have gone with ‘Out for cocktails’ or ‘Getting my nails done’?”

“He knows I’m with you, so he’d never have bought that. Besides, I don’t lie to Matt anymore.”

“You could have just not said anything. He’s going to kill me - this was supposed to be a quick and easy interpreter gig.”

That’s how it had started. After leaving Matt’s firm, Jessica had led Calina to her office, where a woman huddled in the corner of a battered couch. She looked to be in her late 60s or early 70s, and was swallowed up in a thick woollen coat that looked two sizes too big. Fingerless gloves covered her hands, which clutched a bent and twisted photograph.

“Who is she?” Calina had whispered to Jessica, shrugging out of her jacket.

“No clue. She arrived an hour ago, holding this.” Jessica showed her a scrap of newspaper which contained an advert for her PI business. Scrawled next to it, in thick black ink, were the words:

Pleese help her.

“Someone sent her my way, but I can’t get anything out of her except her name: Ema. I dialled up an interpreter service but she freaked out and tried to bolt. I figure she’s undocumented and scared shitless of the authorities. She sounds like she’s speaking Russian, so I thought you could help instead.”

It wasn’t Russian the woman spoke, but Rusyn, a dialect specific to certain parts of eastern and central Europe, including Slovakia, where the woman was from. It wasn’t a language Calina was fluent in, but it was close enough to Ukranian and Russian that she was managing.

The woman also wasn’t called Ema - that was the name of her missing granddaughter.

“When did you last see Ema?” Calina asked, enunciating each word slowly in the foreign language.

The woman broke down into quiet sobs as she answered. Calina listened carefully to the woman’s pained response, and tried to control her own emotions in the face of such obvious fear and worry.

“What did she say?” Jessica asked when the woman eventually finished talking. She was leaning against her desk, arms folded, a scowl on her face.

“Ema has been missing a week. Its completely out of character, and Nela here,”-Calina patted the older woman’s back as she continued to cry-“ is worried sick. But she can’t go to the police. You were right, they’re here illegally.”

Jessica grabbed a notebook off her desk and started scribbling. “Okay. I need info - where this Ema works, friends, boyfriends, hobbies. Get me everything you can.”

Calina nodded and got to work. She coaxed Nela into telling her as much as she knew, interspersing her barrage of questions with platitudes that she wasn’t sure she believed in:

It would be okay.

They’d find her granddaughter

They’d bring her home safely.

She knew it was wrong to make false promises, but she couldn’t help it. She felt like she needed to say something. She wasn’t used to dealing with a distraught relative. Someone so at the end of their rope they would risk turning to a stranger for help. Someone who looked up at her with watery, beseeching eyes and begged her to find her beloved vnúčka.

So she told the older woman what she wanted to hear, then led her down the stairs to a waiting taxi. Handing the driver the cab fare, she guided Nela into the back and sent her home to wait for news.

“You can’t get emotionally involved,” Jessica chided when Calina returned to the dark and dingy office. “This is a case. We need to be detached and just deal in the facts.”

But that sentiment changed when the facts of the case became clear. After making some calls and checking the ‘net, Jessica discovered that Ema - a pretty 23-year old who made ends meet by sewing and repairing clothes with her grandmother, and who enjoyed watching black and white films while drinking hot chocolate - had met a guy.

A bad guy. A manipulative and abusive guy.

It was a story as old as time. But this particular story had a nasty modern edge. The bad guy in question - Bohdan Chumak - had a site on the dark web. One he and his friends used to stream their abuse of captive women in exchange for money and ‘likes’.

Jessica had found a clip of Ema from yesterday, and the footage had triggered something in Calina. It had pressed all of her buttons, in all the wrong way…and it seemed to affect Jessica just as strongly. At the end of the short, but violent 30-second clip, Jessica had launched out of her seat and hammered her fist into the wall behind her.

“You okay?” Calina asked, eyeing the massive dent in the wall with equal parts worry and admiration. Matt had told her all about Jessica’s super-strength, but seeing it in person was something else.

“Yeah,” Jessica gritted out as she paced the small office.

“What happened to staying detached?”

The other woman paused, and looked at Calina for a long moment, as if weighing something up in her mind. Then she collapsed onto the sofa and sighed. “Murdock told me some stuff about you. About your past. And I’m sorry if that was a breach of trust, or whatever, but the dude was going through some stuff, and needed to off-load.”

“Okay,” Calina said slowly. Part of her was desperate to know when this conversation took place, and what stuff Matt had been ‘going through’…but she sensed that was a conversation for a different time. “And?”

“And...I have some experience of that too. Of being under someone’s control. Of being abused, and made to do things…” She swallowed harshly and stared off into space for a moment. Then she snapped her head back to glare at Calina. “Let’s just say, for cases like this one,”- she pointed to the laptop screen-“I tend to break my golden rule. I’m going to take down this fucking scumbag, and the rest of his fucking scumbag gang, and I’m going to hurt them in the process. Badly. You can run on home to your boyfriend and tell him, but if he tries to stop me-”

“I’m coming with you.”

“What?”

“I’m just as angry as you are, Jessica - I’m just more liable to break a bone if I take that frustration out on the brickwork. But I’m more than happy to take it out on Chumak and his friends. I want to. I need to.”

Jessica eyed her again, more favourably this time, an admiring glint in her dark eyes. “Okay, then, Comrade. Let’s do this.”

And that’s how they'd ended up hiding behind a truck, scoping out the crumbling apartment building opposite. Night had fallen hours ago, but only a couple of street lamps were on, illuminating blotches of the pavement with a sickly yellow glow.

Calina silenced her phone and stowed it away, hoping Matt wouldn’t worry too much about her text message. It would be hypocritical of him to do so, considering what he did night after night as Daredevil. Nodding at that justification, she grabbed the Widow’s bites out of her pockets and fitted the devices over her hands and wrists.

“Is that what you needed to grab from your apartment? Some spy shit?” Jessica asked as she peered into apartment 14b with a set of binoculars.

“Yeah, but they’re just a precaution - I’m not planning on killing anyone tonight.”

The other woman scoffed. “Don’t worry. I don’t have the same hangups that your boyfriend has, but the no-killing thing is probably for the best. I don’t wanna catch heat with those Sokovia bastards.”

Calina glanced over at the other woman, concerned. “Did you sign the Accords?”

“No. I’m small fry. They’re after the superheroes who do all that international, saving-the-world crap. I’m just a PI.”

“A PI who literally saved the world last year by taking down The Hand.”

“Murdock told you about that, did he?”

“Some. He said he worked with you and a few other people to stop this organisation who were hell-bent on world domination from the shadows-”

“You ever think he may have been overselling things to get into your pants?”

“No. He wouldn’t do that. If anything, he’s too humble about what he does.”

“Of course he is,” Jessica muttered. “Fucking boy scout.”

“He’s no boy scout.” Calina’s mind went straight to the previous night, and the very un-boy scout things Matt had done with his fingers and tongue…

Jessica slapped her shoulder with the back of her hand. “You’re thinking of sex things right now, aren’t you? Cut it out.”

Calina frowned, surprised at how easily she’d given her thoughts away, knowing her trainers in the Red Room would have been appalled. But she guessed it was a side-effect of living - or practically living - with a blind man with Matt’s gifts. He couldn't make out the detail of her face, and could determine what she was feeling just from her heartbeat and body chemistry...which meant there was no need to hide her expressions the way she was always taught to. It was freeing, in a way. But a little too dangerous - she obviously needed to re-learn to regulate her emotions when she was around people other than Matt.

Just then, a light came on in the window they were watching, proving that at least one of Chumak’s gang was home.

It was time to move.

“Ready?” Jessica whispered, coming to the same conclusion.

Calina took a second to look at the other woman. It would be strange to go into a fight with someone who wasn’t a Widow - a sister that she’d trained with all her life. But she trusted the PI, despite only knowing her a matter of hours. Maybe it was their shared trauma. Maybe it was the fact that Matt trusted her. Or maybe she was just learning to trust her own instincts about people.

Whatever the reason, she was more than happy for Jessica to have her back. “Ready.”

———

Matt watched from the shadows as the two women finally made their move. He’d been silently observing them for the last ten minutes, after tailing Calina here from her apartment.

He hadn’t planned to get involved in…whatever this was. In fact, he’d been proud of his self control in not hounding the PI with questions when she’d shown up at his office earlier today. Instead, he’d let Calina make her own decision, and when she’d agreed to help, he hadn’t checked up on her or intruded.

But everything changed when Calina had grabbed her Widows’ bites.

He’d been on the rooftop of their building, about to leave for his nightly patrol, when he’d caught Calina’s scent in the air. He’d lingered on the roof, taking a moment to breathe her in, wanting to carry her fragrance into the night with him. And then he'd lingered a few moments longer, just in case she came up to the roof and he could see her and kiss her before leaving…

But she hadn’t come up to the roof. She’d gone straight to her apartment, and straight into her bedroom where he heard the scrape of metal against wood as she moved her bed frame. Then he heard the unmistakable sound of a floor board being prised up…

And he knew there was only one thing stored under Calina’s floor boards:

Her Black Widow gear.

Intrigued - and more than a little concerned - he'd traced Calina’s route back through her apartment, out of the building and onto the sidewalk, where she'd quickly hailed a cab. He'd raised an eyebrow at the address she given the driver - a particularly seedy part of Hell’s Kitchen - and set about following her from the rooftops.

When she arrived at her destination and met up with Jessica, Matt had hunkered down in the shadows high above the street to observe.

It wasn't a matter of trust. He trusted Calina. Maybe not quite as implicitly as he’d once done, but the gap between then and now was narrowing by the day. Time was healing the wounds of her lies, just as he’d always known it would. His faith in her - in them - was getting stronger with every moment they spent together…

So this was not about trust. He wasn’t concerned that she was up to something nefarious, or deliberately keeping something from him. 

This was about her safety.

Since he’d met Calina, she’d been stabbed, shot, beaten up, comatosed, and dosed with fear pheromones. Worry about what might happen to her next was an almost constant companion of his.

A worry that was bordering on an obsession.

He just couldn’t stand the thought of her being hurt again. So even though he knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself, Matt had decided to stand here and keep watch…just in case. Her invisible back up for…whatever this was.

Calina’s text, when it came through moments after her arrival, had done little to shine a light on the situation:

Fighting bad guys, be home later.

Matt had started carrying the burner phone when he was out as Daredevil as a concession to Calina. She never begged him not to leave at night. She never wished that he led a different - less dangerous - life. The only thing she’d ever asked was for him to carry the phone so that she could reach him in an emergency.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one in their relationship who worried about safety.

He'd huffed out a laugh at Calina’s vague message, then tuned his senses to the building the two women were obviously scoping out, hoping for more clues.

And when he found them…his fists had clenched in anger. He could hear the soft, broken sobs of a woman on the fourth floor, and the gentle soothing voice of another trying to comfort her. Then a door opening. The sounds of mocking laughter. Shrieks of fear, then the meaty smack of fists meeting flesh…

He pieced together enough to understand why Jessica and Calina were here. And when they ran across the street and into the building, he didn’t even consider stopping them, or joining them.

This was their fight.

He was just backup.

He listened intently as they made their way to the apartment in question. As Jessica kicked in the reinforced door with ease, and as the shouts of three men greeted them. Then the two women engaged their enemies - Jessica with her brute strength and Calina with her graceful skill and the electric crackle of her Widow’s Bites.

The men were no match for them.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Jessica and Calina emerged onto the street with two young woman huddled between them. They flagged down another cab, bundled their rescued victims into the car, followed them inside…and then they were gone.

Matt waited a few more minutes, to make sure no one from the apartment followed them, but the coast appeared clear. Just as he was turning to leave, the piercing wail of several cop cars rang out. They turned onto the street and screeched to a halt outside the building. As the cops spilled out and started racing inside, Matt ran across the roof in the opposite direction.

It was time to get back to his own mission.

There were, unfortunately, a lot of other people in fear and pain in this city.

And Jessica and Calina couldn’t help them all.

———

Several hours later...

Matt rested his head on the back of the couch, and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath in through his nose…held it…then released it through his mouth.

In through the nose…and out through the mouth.

In…and out.

In...and out.

But it didn’t help.

He gave up on the meditation technique and stalked in to the kitchen to grab a beer instead. He took a swig of the cool liquid then rested back against the countertop, rubbing a hand over his weary face. It was 3 o’clock in the morning. He’d gotten home from his patrol an hour ago, showered and changed, and was trying to wind down enough to go to sleep, but his brain was wide awake.

Because Calina wasn’t there.

Some nights, the thought of returning home to her was the only thing that kept him going. When the corruption and brutality of the city felt so thick it was a miasma that clung to him, suffocating him, drawing him down into despair…all he had to do was think of Calina. Of her scent. The satin of her skin. The thick weight of her hair, and the cadence of her laugh...

And the knowledge that he would see her soon, and talk to her, and hold her and kiss her.

She steadied him. Gave him strength.

And when he finally did stumble through the door to her, she would welcome him in with a smile. Or with a soothing hand over wrenched muscles. Or a gentle kiss against bruised skin, or with soft thighs parting around his hips as he sought oblivion in her embrace…

It was addictive, that feeling of being accepted so completely. Of being cared for, and tended to, and loved, despite the darkness staining his soul.

And like a junkie in need of his fix, he felt jittery and unsettled tonight without it.

He’d received another vague text about an hour after he’d watched Calina speed off in the taxi with the two women she’d saved:

Out drinking with JJ. Be home later. Love you.

He’d smiled at the time - at the thought of light-weight Calina trying to keep up with Jessica’s drinking habits. And he’d smiled at the thought that she’d made another friend; he was worried that her life in New York was too small, too insular, without her sisters around her. He never wanted her to feel trapped or constrained, or to regret choosing him over every other option in the world that was now open to her.

So he was glad she’d found Jessica. He was glad she was out, having fun, celebrating her victory.

He could feel all that, and still miss her.

He collapsed back onto the couch, not even bothering to try the bed - he knew he wouldn’t sleep without her beside him. He took another sip of beer and tried a different meditation technique, one that had worked for him in the past. He chose a random sound in the apartment - the hum of the refrigerator, this time - and focused on it. He brought the innocuous background noise to the fore, and amplified it. He analysed every nuance of the pitch until he could pick apart each individual wavelength. He let the sound fill his head until it became an almost deafening white noise, one that blotted out every other sense and every thought in his brain.

And finally...he felt some relief.

He forgot where he was. He forgot what he’d been worried about just twenty minutes before. His heart rate dropped to its lowest base rate. The taut muscles in his body relaxed, and the faint knot in his stomach loosened and disappeared, until he felt calm and centred.

Then another sound intruded the thunderous hum - one he must have been subconsciously listening for all along: the click of his door unlocking.

Calina was home.

Matt opened his eyes and smiled. The hum disappeared in an instant, and the normal soundscape of his apartment returned - joined by the slightly stumbling footsteps of Calina as she walked towards him.

He held out his hand to her. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi,” she whispered, taking his hand.

“Why are you whispering?”

“You might be asleep.”

He laughed and pulled her down onto his lap. “Nope. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Oh good.” She repositioned herself until she was straddling him, her long legs bracketing his, and her arms draped over his shoulders. “‘Cos I missed you.”

He ran his hands over her thighs and around to her ass. “I missed you too.”

She giggled. “Tha’s silly. We saw each other earlier today.”

Matt laughed again. It was impossible not to - drunk Calina was just too entertaining. “I missed you earlier today, and you were just one room away.”

“Awww, that’s sweet.” She wriggled closer on his lap and stroked her fingers through his hair. “And silly.”

He hummed in pleasure as she leaned down and kissed his neck, his head dropping back against the couch to give her more access. He slipped his hands under her sweater and brushed his fingers over the bare skin of her back. A small knot of pain, throbbing with blood, was present over her left flank, courtesy of her fight earlier tonight. He circled the bruise carefully. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yep,” she replied. “I took down some bad guys.”

“Good for you.”

“And helped some people.”

“I’m glad.”

“Then Jessica got me drunk.”

“I noticed.”

“She’s funny.”

“Really?” ‘Funny’ was not the most obvious adjective to apply to Jessica Jones. 

“Uh-huh,” Calina replied, tugging his earlobe into her mouth. She’d started circling her hips, pushing against his groin in a subtle, maddening rhythm and he was quickly losing track of the conversation. “And she’s angry.”

“That I get.”

“And sad. We talked a lot.”

“Really?” he asked again. Calina must have seen a very different side to Jessica tonight - because she wasn’t the most forthcoming person he’d ever met. But he supposed it made sense. They’d both been through similar experiences with mind control and abusive men.

Calina suddenly pulled away and sat up straight, her hands dropping into her lap. “Am I weird?” she asked.

“What?”

“Is there something wrong with me?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I like having sex with you.”

He cocked his head, confused. “Um, I’m actually pretty glad you like having sex with me.”

“No, I mean, I shouldn’t want to have sex at all, should I? After everything I did - I mean after everything they made me do - before. With my ‘targets’. Jessica said after she got free of Kilgrave it messed her up. Sex-wise. For a long time. But I’m fine having sex with you.”

Matt didn’t know whether to laugh or take offence. “Just fine?”

She huffed and lightly slapped his shoulder. “Shut up. I just mean-”

He pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. “I know what you mean, sweetheart.” Her phrasing may have been off, and her words jumbled and slightly slurred from the alcohol, but her admission felt like a deep truth: she was worried that she wasn’t dealing with her past trauma in the ‘right’ way.

“It never bothered me when it happened,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder, her breath tickling his neck as she spoke. “I didn’t have the emotions to care. And after…I guess I compat-, I compatmenalised, I mean I compantal-”

“Compartmentalised.”

“Yeah, that. All that bad stuff happened to a different Calina, you know? It wasn’t really me. The me that I am now didn’t really exist then.”

Matt swallowed, unsure what to say. Their lighthearted conversation had taken a much deeper turn that he’d expected, and he didn’t know how to help Calina with what she was feeling. He ran his hands up and down her back - over her clothes this time - wanting to comfort her now instead of arouse. She settled against him as he tried to put his thoughts together. For the first time in his life, he wished he’d gone into therapy, just to know the right thing to say to her.

“There’s no right and wrong, Calina,” he eventually said. “You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel. You’re allowed to like sex - no one will judge you for that, least of all me.”

He felt her breath against his neck again as she laughed softly. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he chided. “I just mean, that you’ve never judged me for the way I deal with my demons. I chose a life of violence, when most people would have opted for counselling and medication. But I’ve come to accept that this is who I am, and this is the way my life was supposed to go. And I’m happy. I’m finally happy with where I’ve ended up, and a big part of that is the fact that you accept me they way I am. And I accept you, just as you are. If you’re content to compartmentalise that time in your life, and let it be in the past, that’s fine. If you feel like you want to seek help to understand what you’ve been through and how to deal with it, that would be fine too. Whatever you want to do, sweetheart, I’m here for you, and I love you.”

Calina was quiet after his rambling speech, and Matt just continued to stroke her back as she digested his words. But after a few more minutes of silence, he started to suspect something else was going on.

“Callie?” he whispered. 

No answer. Her body was a warm, boneless weight against him, and her breathing was deep and slow.

She was asleep.

Matt laughed softly, not knowing how much she’d heard before nodding off. It didn’t matter - he’d find a way to broach the conversation with her again. He didn’t want her to struggle with this alone.

For now, he pushed off the couch and carried her into the bedroom. She didn’t stir as he laid her down on his bed and tugged off her shoes, the alcohol sending her into a deep sleep. He tucked her under the covers then padded back into the living room to check the front door and turn off the lights. When he returned, he noticed she’d rolled over on to his side of the mattress - the side closest to the door, which he always felt more comfortable ‘guarding’.

He crouched by the bed and nudged her awake gently. “Calina? You’re on my side.”

“Hmm, always.”

“What? No, I meant you’re,”- he chuckled, and shook his head- “Nevermind. Goodnight, sweetheart.” He kissed her forehead, and climbed into the bed behind her. He gathered her into his arms and quickly sank into sleep.

————–

Chapter 21

Tag list: @hollandorks @stilldreaming666 @sio-ina-bottle @tearoseart-blog @acharliecoxedfan @freckledbabyyy @chezagnes

If you’d like to be added - let me know!

[mariacallous]

Pity the Peruvian negotiators who, five years ago, signed an agreement with the Chinese giant Cosco Shipping Ports. The agreement was about the Port of Chancay, located near Lima, which was to become a megaport and “the gateway from South America to Asia,” as one Cosco manager told The Associated Press. But now, as the massive port nears completion, an “administrative error” by unnamed officials in Peru has given Cosco Shipping Ports exclusivity over operations at the Port of Chancay, the Peruvian port authority (APN) announced in March. Other infrastructure operators still hoping for large Chinese investments should pay heed.

That’s bad news, because the two-terminal construction is be completed later this year, and Peru has great expectations. Cosco acquired 60 percent ownership over the port when the deal was announced in 2019, and together with Peruvian mining company Volcan, it has invested a staggering $3.5 billion in the project, which intends to turn the natural deep-water port into a cargo megaport.  The Peruvian government, though, assumed that the Chinese shipping giant would merely be using the port that it will majority-own, not have exclusive rights to it. But during the negotiations, Cosco somehow gained precisely these rights. Now APN is trying to rescind the exclusivity, saying it made a mistake.

Oh, to be a fly on the wall at APN headquarters or the office of new Peruvian new Economy Minister José Arista, who has to help sort this mess out. A mere five years ago, Cosco’s investment in Chancay, which is located a mere 40 miles to the north of the capital city of Lima, seemed to be unmitigatedly good news.

Chancay will indeed gain two massive terminals. There will be a new container terminal with 11 berths and new a four-berth terminal for bulk cargo, general cargo, and rolling cargo, World Cargo News reported. How many countries just happen to have a natural deep-water port in a strategic location and then manage to attract Chinese money to massively expand it?

In what seemed to be even better news for Peru, sailing from Chancay will dramatically cut the travel time for vessels headed to China from the region. That, of course, means increased revenues and regional power for Peru. So exciting was Chancay’s future that in March, Arista took Brazilian Planning Minister Simone Tebet to the port to discuss prospective Brazilian exports from it. Brazil—a major food-exporting nation—is interested in shipping soybeans and corn from Chancay, which would cut the transit time to Asia by some two weeks compared to the Panama Canal route, Reuters reported. (China is Brazil’s top buyer of soybeans.)

The joy was, alas, abruptly halted last month, when Cosco sent Arista’s Economy Ministry a letter disputing the contents of a message that it had received from APN. In its letter, the port authority had explained its “administrative error” and pointed out that it doesn’t have the authority to grant exclusive port access. The Chinese firm, though, is standing its ground, even implying that it could pull out if it doesn’t get exclusive access.

The Peruvian government may—like countless other governments in countries ranging from Italy to Sri Lanka that, until recently, enthusiastically courted Chinese infrastructure investments—simply have gotten cold feet about Cosco in Chancay, especially since Cosco is ultimately owned by the Chinese state through its mainland-based parent company, Cosco Shipping. Or APN may in fact have been outfoxed in the negotiations. Last year, the U.S. government told Lima that it was concerned about Chinese infrastructure control in Peru.

Either way, the Peruvian government is now in a massive bind, with the port scheduled to be completed and start operations at the end of this year.

That raises the question of how many other governments have enthusiastically negotiated agreements with Chinese infrastructure investors without understanding all the fine print.

According to research by the Council on Foreign Relations, Chinese firms have invested in 92 active ports outside China, including Hamburg, Rotterdam, and seven other EU ports as well as three in Australia. And 13 of those 92 ports, including two container terminals in Spain and Greece’s Port of Piraeus, have majority-Chinese ownership. In 10 ports with Chinese investments, the Council on Foreign Relations identified “physical potential for naval use.”

In the United States, meanwhile, security services have discovered secretly installed communications equipment in Chinese-built cargo cranes operating at U.S. ports. How many port projects that are not yet complete have unwittingly granted Chinese firms exclusive access? We likely have no way of knowing until they’re operational. But we may see more Chancays.

There are plenty of strategic reasons for these Chinese investments. At the Doraleh Container Terminal in Djibouti, the Chinese operator China Merchants Port Holdings (whose ultimate owner is also the Chinese state) is trying to dislodge the Emirati firm DP World from a long-standing contract granting the latter exclusive access. In 2017, the Chinese military opened its first overseas military base—also in Djibouti.

Many countries’ enthusiasm for China has waned. Last year, a Pew Research Center poll covering 24 countries across all inhabited continents found that a median of 67 percent of people viewed China unfavorably, compared to only 28 percent who viewed it favorably. That’s a dramatic increase from a median unfavorability rating of 41 percent that Pew found less than five years ago.

Such sentiments, though, are unlikely to discourage Chinese firms from trying to gain a stake in overseas infrastructure. In the Arctic Norwegian port town of Kirkenes (population: 3,404 people), located just 13 kilometers (8 miles) or so from the Russian border and home to the closest NATO port to Russia, no fewer than six Chinese companies are seeking to establish operations. The prospective investors include a textile manufacturer, an automotive manufacturer, a technology firm, an investment fund, a construction firm, and a shipping company.

Chinese firms are also interested in building and financing the Kirkenes Port, Norwegian National Radio reported. Kirkenes is, of course, also conveniently located near the Northern Sea Route, which goes along Russia’s Arctic coast and would slash the travel time for ships traveling from northern Europe to the Chinese East Coast or vice versa. The investment would be a big boost, but also raises security concerns for a town already on high alert. In February this year, a Russian citizen was arrested photographing military installations in Kirkenes.

Are Norwegian port representatives and other officials up to negotiating a complex deal with a Chinese company such as Cosco without giving away the store, should the suitors present a strong offer?

As attractive as Chinese money can be, let’s hope that strategic sense might sometimes prevail.

[drstonetrivia]

Chapter 208 Trivia

Brody-Os! Part of a complete breakfast.

Magma is posed here like Senku is in the manga volumes' character introduction pages. He's also next to Senku's two best friends rather than Nikki and Yo.

I don't think it means anything but Magma did beat Senku this chapter… Is Magma the replacement for Senku? 🤔

We finally see Joel's arm, and it does seem to be fully functional given he's rapidly weaving donuts between Luna and Yuzuriha (while blushing, because he still hasn't gotten used to women).

I think this implies that broken/crushed bones heal similar to piercing wounds.

The mathlympics coincides* with the Tokyo 2020 Summer Olympics, and the little icons on the banner they faxed are based on the ones Japan used for the sports.

*Technically the closing ceremony was a few weeks ago but the manga was on break.

This panel is interesting: either they're saying this person was revived 51st in Corn City and had the number written on him, and that it stayed on his skin despite having been written on the outer/damaged layer of stone, or that tattoos don't count as healable injuries.

This could mean that the petrification only heals life-threatening injuries, as Soyuz's head scar and now this tattoo (technically the body treats the foreign ink as an infection of sorts) have stayed.

This does imply Kaseki's arthritis was considered life-threatening though…

If the number on the soldier's arm was in fact his revival number, then the population of the world is probably close to Dunbar's number already, since 51 + 75 = 126, plus the Spaniards, making the total Earth population ~150.

The corn harvest here may be telling us Corn City has been back up and running for the last 60-100 days, as that's about as long corn needs to grow. If we assume the start date is October 1st, then it would be around late November/early December now.

(It could also be much earlier if this corn was still the corn growing naturally over the last 7-8 years, rather than them planting it.)

Just for fun I compared the ring size to Kinro's thumb width and I think it's accurate, at least it is for my hand. His hand is a little smaller than I was expecting though…

(0.5 * 33.6 = 16.8mm if you want to check your own thumb!)

Just because nixie tubes are cool, this is how the calculator number display looked. Depending on the noble gas/gases they filled it with, it could be orange-yellow, blue, or purple-pink.

(They should also have 12 pins on the bottom, one for each number+decimal point+1 anode)

Gen mentions they're crossing the Indian Ocean, so I guess Math City is considered established now. The next ones are Rubber City and Aluminum City, but since they're both across the Indian Ocean from India, they could be going to either one of them. Rubber is closer, however.

The scrawny scientists are fine, but Magma is too big for his contestant podium and has to straddle it.

Magma's studying payed off, he can read numbers!

Ukyo's such a good teacher :)

The calculator itself is a 32 bit floating point calculator, has four functions (+, -, *, / ) and with a display that shows 12 digits, the sign (positive or negative numbers) and status (for example if a number is too big to display or some other error).

The name on the calculator, Senku Intelligent - 1, may be a /very/ loose reference to the TI calculators you likely used at school, though "TI" stands for "Texas Instruments" rather than "Texas Intelligent".

These candies Minami's has next to her are definitely corn syrup based, and are probably getting stickier by the minute because sugar candies should be stored in an airtight container and that looks like an open jar.

If anyone's confused by how Ryusui Bank works, I believe the plan is to add and subtract any transactions people make and save their totals on the calculator, or keep a paper record of it (=ledger). It's entirely trust based, there's nothing of physical value being traded.

The time difference between India and California is 12 hours 30 minutes, so it's probably mid-morning for the ones on the Perseus and evening for the ones in Corn City, going by the skies shown.

From what I could tell, all the magnetic memory parts were basically exactly as they described them, including the little history lesson Senku adds on page 8. There just wasn't much more to add! (I know I said this before but I loved this chapter haha)

[spooniechef]

Gluten-Free Chocolate Mug Cake (0 Spoons)

I've been quiet here for awhile, at least in part because it's been a long month or two. There's been overtime at work, which I should not have been doing but because we're understaffed and half the office got sick, I had little choice. Also I went to what will probably be my last convention a couple of weeks ago, which was objectively hellacious but I got autographs from the entire cast of Critical Role so I regret nothing. But of course I came out of that with a serious pain flare and what might have been con crud but was also quite possibly the flu, so that kind of murdered any chance of my being productive the last couple of weeks. But I have this week off and I have some plans. Mostly because I got cookbooks and very much intend to use them.

Side note - I've been contemplating doing a thing to raise money for Fibromyalgia Action UK, and weirdly, my main thought about something sponsored has been "cook through an entire cookbook in 12 months", like The Julie / Julia Project. I came up with that idea least partly because Julie Powell died a couple of weeks ago, which ... I mean, she was barely older than me, what the fuck? But also because cookbooks don't exactly give a chronic pain-friendly rating to its recipes, and part of it would involve doing an adjunct-document with spoon ratings like I do on the recipes here. Still toying with the idea, at least partly because butter and eggs are expensive as fuck. Don't even get me started on the pecans I need for a recipe I got my mother to bring me Jell-O pudding from North America especially to make. Also there's too much that needs buttermilk and that's not so much a thing over here.

Which brings me to today's bit of cookery notes. See, I have new cookbooks, and I've been trying to decide what I want to make from them. I'm having serious executive dysfunction about so much of it, so for the most part I've been sticking with chocolate chip cookies. But I didn't want to do that this time, but there are so many cookies to try. Eventually I got tired of indecision and just really wanted a sweet treat, and one of my cookbooks (Quick + Easy Gluten Free by Becky Excell, which I heartily recommend) had recipes for mug cakes. I'd never tried one, so I figured, why not? I went for the chocolate one instead of the jam doughnut one because I didn't want to use an egg for just the yolk until I found something to do with the white. (Which probably means the next recipe you'll see here is gluten-free cinnamon roll sugar cookies, but anyway.)

So! Chocolate mug cakes! Here's what you'll need:

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

4 tablespoons milk

2 tablespoons caster sugar

1 tablespoon unsweetened cocoa powder

3 tablespoons gluten-free all-purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon gluten-free baking powder

1 tablespoon chocolate chips

I imagine you could replace both the all-purpose flour and the baking powder with gluten-containing versions and have it be fine. But note - no xanthan gum, no egg. You could probably add the tiniest drop of vanilla extract, though.

Here's what you do:

Put all the ingredients in a microwaveable mug; mix well

Cover the mug with plastic wrap; poke a few holes in the plastic

Microwave on high for 60-70 seconds

Let cool for a couple of minutes (the mug will be really hot)

FEAST (they recommend topping it with ice cream and / or chocolate syrup, so maybe do that and then FEAST)

There is no earthly way I could make this any easier. You could probably add various bits of additional flavour - replace the chocolate chips with fudge chips, a drop of vanilla or orange or mint extract, maybe a pinch of cinnamon - but it's pretty well fine on its own. The only thing I can add is that the cookbook says microwave on high in a 900W microwave, but mine is 800W so I just put it in for 70 seconds and it was fine, so maybe add an extra 5-10 seconds if your microwave is lower wattage than that.

So yeah, this is the perfect spoonie dessert, really. If you're having a bad day and are tired and you just want something nice that requires no effort and isn't a £3 brownie? This is the way to go.