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writingrose29 · 2 years

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Two Birds (1/?)

Pairings: Steven Grant x fem!Reader, Marc Spector x fem!Reader, Jake Lockley x fem!Reader (Slow Burn, Post-Moon Knight)

Summary: Her life was a continuous cycle of good and bad things. Anytime things were good she knew for a fact some shitstorm was going to hit her. However, she never could've predicted the mess her adoptive father's death would bring.

AN: Welcome to the official sequel to "Strangers", now in the reader's POV. I just wanted to give you all the heads up that I have written up to Ch 3 and I will most likely be updating there first followed by tumblr. This story will contain dark themes (such as suicide, self harm, experimentation, etc) and I will be placing TW on each chapter when appropriate. I will also note that reader goes by Alessandra, due to the fact she doesn’t remember her birth name. If you want to know the full tag list, including characters, you can see it here on Ao3

Word Count: 4419

TW/CW: references to substance abuse as unhealthy coping mechanism, implied suicide attempt, and reference/implied past child abuse

Ao3

Prequel: Strangers

Summary: Sometimes the best person to talk to is the one that you will never meet again

Two Birds Masterlist

Next Chapter

Essex Corporation

Those two words seemed to be taunting her with every list she went through. Funding this and that, from Military Operations to Mutant Re-Education Centers to even Archaeological Excavations. Thousands of different companies, corporations, and the occasional individual name with only one thing in common.

Essex

No matter how many times the money got transferred, in the end it all trailed back to that one corporation or one of their children corporations.

She wasn't sure why Erik gave all this to her, she wasn't his secretary. Shit she wasn't really that involved with ninety percent of the shit he did. Though it was most likely his pride prevented him from bringing it straight to Xavier. Typical, just like two divorce parents.

Alessandra thought about asking him how he even got his hands on this dossier, but ultimately decided to have some type of defense of ignorance. Though, if he had it and if he wanted her to do some digging on it, well that just meant something bad was happening.

She glanced away from the files to the stack of ungraded class work that rested on the other side of her coffee table and groaned, leaning back in her office chair. She should bribe X to let her have a TA.

Alessandra rubbed her eyes, going through several more lists of names. After all, she wants to see if she can find something she recognizes in these lists before her appointment with Hank.

The words slowly blending into gibberish the longer she scanned over them. Until one name in particular.

$3 million to Percival Beaumont

She pursed her lips, tapping the paper. Sadly all of this information was useless, just showing where the money was heading too and nothing else.

Why was Beaumont getting money? Fuck how long was he?

She went to keep checking before going back through the previous files. To see if she had missed anything important but she paused as her phone started vibrating.

A loud sigh escaped her lips as she grabbed the phone, unlocking it to only reveal a simple text.

Ollie: BBC 4 News

Ollie: Now

Alessandra frowned slightly, clicking her phone off and turned the TV on. Lifetime started blasting one of their murderous ex girlfriend movies before she quickly switched the channel.

The news headline caused her to freeze in her seat: One of the World's Greatest Philanthropist, Scientist, and Inventor Found Dead at 68

"In the early morning of November 5th, Sir Percival Arthur Beaumont. Was found deceased in his countryside manor in Chilterns, England. He was found by his employee who was the one who reported his death to the police. It is being reported that Sir Percival passed away in his sleep due to an apparent heart attack. Today the world mourns another magnificent life gone too-"

She turned off the TV, allowing the silence to permeate the air. An odd numbness fell over her as she stared blankly at the dark screen of the TV.

Her eyes went back to the list that held his name before a short laugh escaped her lips as the news truly started to sink in.

He was dead. The fucking bastard was actually dead.

A scoffed escaped her lips as she stalked to her liquor cabinet, ignoring the now constant flickering of lights and pulled out her Remy Martin Louis XIII, the very bottle she was saving for this exact occasion.

She took a large swig of it, sighing as the liquid burned her throat and warmed her stomach. Probably shouldn't be drinking before class, but it wasn't like she could get drunk and if any situation called for a drink it would be this.

She did promise herself a celebration after all.

She slammed her hand against the kitchen counter, a laugh bubbling out of her mouth as tears streamed down her face.

It wasn't long for her to feel the slight tingling in her eyes, one that always felt like her eyes themselves were burning. Quickly Alessandra closed them, she didn't need that vision to turn on right now, she really didn't.

This moment, this very event was something she had been dreaming for her entire life. To see that evil waste of a person fucking die. She should be out making a reservation at her favorite steakhouse in celebration. She should be feeling joy, relief yet she just felt nothing. Endless numbness.

How pathetic, she wished for his death for years and now all she wanted was for him to come back so she could yell, scream, give him a piece of her mind for everything he did to her, to them.

And now she can't. He didn't even die in pain, he would never feel the pain he put her through, put all of them through.

Alessandra wasn't sure whether to laugh, cry, or scream. So she did all three.

She also wasn't sure when she threw the bottle of liquor, whether it was before or after the lights in her apartment shattered leaving the entire room in darkness.

You could've let me have a drink before you destroyed it

She glanced up. Through blurred vision she saw the familiar stout robotic figure of her brother.

When did she decide to sit on the cold kitchen tiles?

She sniffled, a choked laugh escaping her throat. "With what mouth and body dipshit?"

Her brother, and freeloading roommate who was stuck with her as she was the only one able to translate his bio-electrochemical signals, stood above her, a machine controlled by a consciousness stuck within an metal brain that rested in the 'chest' of the machine. The family's own robot Mike Wazowski. He held out his robotic claw, helping her up as the pixelated face on the screen merely rolled their eyes at her.

I thought you be celebrating

She rubbed some of the tears away and sniffled. "Yeah, so did I." Alessandra took in several deep breaths, shaking her head as to rid herself of any feelings involving that news.

Suck it up. All she had to do was suck it up.

Didn't expect it to be a heart attack

She snorted, "Didn't know he was human enough to die."

Did you really have to destroy a $3000 bottle?

Alessandra rolled her eyes, sniffling once more as she shook her finger at him. "This is why you don't get a voice box. Nag nag nag."

She waved her hands, the lights and bottle were fixed as if they had never been touched in the first place.

Did you know about his move to London?

Alessandra merely shook her head, "My goal was to avoid thinking about him," she glanced back at the files that rested on the table, "It was fun while it lasted."

Lou shifted his body, the screen that made his face now facing the files.

…What are those?

"...Papers?"

He shuffled closer, picking up one of the pages with his clamp-like hand.

I thought you stopped contact with Lehnsherr.

"Who said Lehnsherr was involved? Implying I can't do…accounting?"

Slowly he turned to face her. Three thin lines on his screen.

You can't even figure out how to do taxes. Why would you be handling dossier maintenance?

Alessandra opened her mouth before closing it. Instead she merely grabbed the files and her phone from the table before ripping the sheet from his grasp.

Al, what happened to no more terrorism?

"Okay one, this is merely research. And two, I have no knowledge of how this information was obtained and I have no involvement in said matter so not sure where the big T word is coming from."

Anything involving Le-

"Okay, love you and all, but maybe start questioning why Congress is debating whether mutants are considered human or not under the Constitution, instead of bitching about my quote on quote terrorism?" She slipped the files into her backpack then shrugged the backpack on her shoulder.

A simple question mark appeared on the screen.

That is not relevant to this-

"Or is it?" She glanced at her empty wrist, "Oh look at the time, McCoy is waiting for me gotta go. Uh, keep your…attention on the news or something."

She closed the door before he could respond.

As she stood in the hallway, she released a deep breath. Shove the emotions inside and lock them away.

Alessandra was the queen of healthy coping mechanisms.

Sometimes lying to yourself brought peace, if just for a fleeting moment

There were many pros and cons to living in New York City. Such pros being many options for public transportation, a lot of restaurants, Broadway, and how it kept her mind busy. She hated being stuck in her mind, nothing good came from it. The cons being stupidly expensive, NYPD, the Avengers (super cops), stupid insurance plans (she continues to count her blessing that the Hulk never threw a car through her apartment yet, that plan was too expensive) and the fact that it kept her mind busy. Especially in moments like this where all she wanted was to enjoy her bus ride to her other bus ride to Westchester county but everything was so loud. Every bioelectric activity, radio, tv, computer clouding her mind resulting in a pulsating migraine.

Fuck, she knew she should've taken the shot beforehand. While the doses were growing more and more ineffective, it would've given her some respite.

Alessandra rubbed her eyes behind her glasses, taking deep breaths just like how Erik told her. Imagine something calming, something to drown everything out.

Like the sound of a waterfall.

Like the one she shoved Allen off of when they were 15 and sent to Chile.

At least she managed to get her sight back to normal. She didn't need a visual overload as well.

When she opened them, she was pleased to see no one staring at her. At least New Yorkers minded their damn business, a trait she had found a lot of respect in during her time living here.

It was then she realized her thoughts were now just her own. A relieved sigh escaped her lips. When she was positive that a relapse wasn't coming, she pulled out her phone quickly searching for her boss's contact.

With a deep breath she pressed the green and white phone icon. Alessandra rested her head on the window, listening to the phone ring.

"Hey Alessandra, everything alright?" Alessandra always had a soft spot for her boss, Dr. Janssens. She was one of those people who were just kind, something that was not too common in Alessandra's life. Even her thoughts were gentle, either worrying about work or fondly thinking of her daughter and grandchildren.

"Hey Annette," Alessandra kept her voice soft and had it wavered slightly, "Not really."

"Oh, what happened?" Her concern was evident in every word she spoke.

"My father," she paused, "He uh…he passed away today and," she added a sigh, "everything is just a mess. You have my siblings, and the funeral, and…" Alessandra trailed off, making sure she added the right amount of panic and grief in her words. She had to sell this correctly, hook and line.

"Oh my, I am so sorry for your loss. I know how difficult it can be to lose a father."

Alessandra let out a sniffled, "Yeah, it just hurts so much," she choked out, "It was just so sudden." Well, her words weren't completely false, it was sudden. "I just…I don't know when I will be able to come back in with all this. Especially since it is out of the country."

Dr. Janssens hummed, "I completely understand. How about this, you can just keep me updated on when you think you will be back alright? I don't want to add even more stress on you."

And sinker.

"Oh thank you so much. I truly appreciate it." The honest words flowed easily from her lips, as easy as her previous lies.

"Of course Alessandra. Take care alright."

"I will, thank you."

She exited with a small smile, sending a quick text to Hank to let him know that she would be arriving slightly earlier than expected.

Alessandra always liked kind people, they were far easier to manipulate.

She rested her eyes, smiling as the sunlight brought a sense of warmth to her skin.

It took about two hours for her to end up on the shuttle that brought her to the X Mansion. After exchanging pleasantries with the driver, it was a quiet ride with her being the lone passenger. It made sense, considering it was a school week so it wouldn't make sense for any students to be shuttling anywhere away from the school. The fact it was still during school hours removed the presence of any other professors arriving or leaving the grounds.

Alessandra felt her heart lighten slightly when the large mansion came into view. She wasn't sure when this place started to feel like a safe haven for her, only that she realized it when it was far too late to back away. The students and her colleagues latched onto her heart, allowing her to have a soft fondness over them despite any irritation they caused her. Not that she would let them know that. Then again, she was sure that some of them already knew. Pesky telepaths and empaths.

"Thanks for the ride Robbie." She sent him a smile which he returned.

"It's no problem Andy. Imma guess you'll need a ride back?"

"You know me so well."

He waved at her, "Until then," he said as he closed the doors behind her. She sent him a short wave and started making her way up the path.

The foregrounds were empty, yet as she peered through some of the opened windows she could see filled classes of students of varying ages and appearance. Alessandra always felt some pity for those whose mutations were physical, she was lucky that she could bullshit her way into seeming human without too much difficulty.

She waved at several students who met her glance, only recognizing one of them as one of her students. Andrew she believed his name was. He was a kind boy, three eyes and with the nifty ability to spit out corrosive acid and stick to walls.

The mansion was mostly silent when she entered, only a couple students scattered around the hallway, some going up or down the stairs to their next class or to their rooms.

Alessandra gave everyone who glanced at her a polite nod as she made her way to Hank's lab.

It was impossible to miss him, especially in his very sterile lab. The curse of being very large, very blue, and very furry.

She knocked on one of the metal tables, catching his attention away from one of his many computers.

"Hey Doc," she waved at him. Hank glanced down at her, his typical stern and no-nonsense expression resting on his face before cracking a small smile.

"Alessandra, I heard about your father. I'm sorry-"

She shook her head, "Don't be, he was a piece of shit." She walked past him, sitting in one of his spare office chairs with her feet resting on one of the arm rests. "So what's up? My next doses are in?"

Hank let out a sigh as he took the seat across from her. Alessandra frowned at his reaction.

Well that can't be good.

"My doses are in right? I'm almost out."

"When was the last time you took a dose?" He asked instead.

"Yesterday, I got sidetracked today. Why?"

"And how are you feeling?"

Alessandra sighed, sitting upright in her seat and leaned forward. "Annoyed that you are being evasive. C'mon what the fuck is going on?"

Hank rolled his chair to his desk, picking up a folder before rolling himself back to her.

"Alessandra, you know how long I've been studying your blood work right?"

She nodded slowly.

He opened up the folder, showing her the results from the past several months.

"Here is the baseline." He handed her a page. "The bloodwork for the first time you taken the doses." Another sheet. "The first time you were off the doses." Another sheet. "And the rest are every time since, off and on, up until your most recent blood work." He handed her the rest of the file.

Alessandra glanced through each one, glancing at the raising and lowering numbers.

"At first it looks like a success, yeah? Complete suppression of the mutation."

Alessandra nodded, "Yeah, but there is something off with the numbers on the other sheet?"

Hank nodded, a grim look on his furry face. "From what I can tell, it seems that your mutation is constantly fighting off the medication. Which in turn is causing the new doses of the medication to suppress normal organ and hormone function in an attempt to suppress the mutation which in turn is causing your mutation to attack those same functions as a result. A constant cycle."

Alessandra scoffed, "I wasn't aware that was in the realm of electromagnetism."

"On the subatomic level it can be," he pointed out.

She sighed, closing the file and handing it back to him. "So that's why it is growing less effective."

Hank nodded, "And it's why you see a surge of instability afterwards. Your mutation is working hard against it, the moment it is out of your system it is way above normal activity."

"Okay," she sighed, "So how do we adjust the cure?"

"We don't. It is a failure and far too dangerous for consumption."

"Hank," she shook her head, "Hank I need this cure to work. I…I can't keep fucking living like this."

His eyes were hard, yet carried a hint of sympathy.

"Alessandra," he said softly, "If you keep taking this drug it will not end up well for you or for anyone in your vicinity." He placed one of his large hands on her lap. "Listen to me okay, I'm telling you this because I care about you and I don't want you to get worse. If you continue taking this drug you will die."

Alessandra scoffed, a harsh laugh escaping her lips. "You and I both know that's bullshit."

Hank winced, "Fine, maybe not actual death but something far closer to it."

She threw him a confused look as he rubbed his face once again.

"Remember what you told me about the Chicago incident, with the man you suspect had DID?"

Alessandra nodded, a small smile appearing on her lips as she thought of the kind man from the park. His soft, expressive eyes, the soothing presence he brought that eased the pain she felt that day, his odd mind which held two oddities she couldn't place that stood out amongst the crowd of people. "The Brit."

"You mentioned throwing up blood followed by the inability to smell, taste, and feel touch hours afterwards."

She bit her lip, wincing at the memory.

"Then the incident you and Wilson got into a month later. Total vision loss for a week."

"Okay, so what you're saying is I'll become a walking nuke with temporary sensory deprivation."

Hank shook his head, "I'm saying that you'll become a walking nuke with permanent sensory deprivation. No sight, smell, taste, touch. Permanently. With the addition to having your mutation on overload and actively on the defense. It may be able to repair the damage now, but I refuse to see how far we can push it."

Alessandra felt herself freeze, his words stuck in her head. Permanent deprivation.

She cried out, clawing against his wrist as he tightened his grip on her underarm. She tried to shove herself backwards yet he continued to drag her along as if she was a ragdoll.

"Please, I'm sorry. I'll do better. I'll be better. Just don't leave me there again." The cold metal collar rubbed against her neck with each movement she made.

Her father-Mr. Beaumont said nothing, he just continued to drag her through the depths of the basement until they arrived at that room.

She watched with tear filled eyes as he slowly unlocked the door before turning the hatch to open the door.

He looked down at her, his cold beady eyes looking at her blankly. No emotions, just two pair of coals staring back into her. As dark as the room she was being forced into once again.

"Four hours shall do," was all he said before tossing her inside.

Into Oblivion she became nothing.

"-ndra!"

She came back to see Hank in front of her, his eyes wide with worry as he held her shoulders.

When did she start breathing so harshly?

"Uh sorry," she cleared her throat as she relaxed her grip on her thighs, "Zoned out for a moment. What were you saying."

The look of worry and concern did not leave his face but he relented either way. "I was merely saying you should give yourself more credit. The fact you didn't turn that man's brain into mush and that Chicago is still intact is a miracle."

"Okay, I got your message loud and clear. No more drugs."

Hank nodded his head, a triumph smile on his face. "Which is why you will be returning the remaining doses to me."

Alessandra sighed and nodded in agreement.

"And you will keep me updated with any symptoms of withdrawal and side-effects?"

"Yes yes yes, I'm not a child you know."

Hank stood up and patted her shoulder, "I know. Now let me take one more blood sample and you can head to Charles.

Alessandra quickly turned to look at his retreating back. "Xavier wants to talk to me?"

Hank nodded as he brought his supplies to her. Alessandra quickly rolled up her sleeve for him as he sat back down in his chair.

"Did I forget the pass on that message?"

Alessandra narrowed her eyes at him, not missing the smile he had.

"Conspirator," she muttered, scrunching her nose quickly as she felt the needle pierce her skin.

She made sure to take her time going to Xavier's office. Making small talk to Ororo on her way there.

However, she couldn't delay it forever. Especially when he was waiting for her.

Exhaling deeply, she knocked on his door. Only opening it when she heard him say "Come in."

His office was the same. Everything neat, filled with books on the bookshelf on the side. Charles Xavier was facing his tall window, staring outside with a thoughtful expression.

She closed the door behind her, the noise catching his attention. He smiled warmly at her, his light blue eyes warmed.

"My condolences for your loss Alessandra. I know you must have conflicted feelings given…" Xavier trailed off, rolling his wheelchair towards her.

She scoffed, shaking her head. "Okay, first of all you're not my therapist so just don't. Two, cut it out with that 'I know how you must feel' bullshit. You don't. Just because you can take glimpses of it in my mind doesn't mean you understand shit. You didn't live it, I did. You can never understand so cut it out. And three, let's cut the bullshit yeah? You want to talk about Erik I'm guessing."

He sighed, rolling behind his desk. "Indeed. How is my old friend."

Alessandra rolled her eyes, taking a seat in front of his desk. "He's fine, I think he misses the chess games with you. Can't you two just make up already?"

Xavier gave her his standard look, one of parental warning.

Typical divorce dads.

"He found some information dealing with the Essex Corporation." Alessandra unzipped her backpack, shoving the files on his desk, "I will do more research on it but something does seem off."

Xavier frowned, "Never heard of them," he said softly as he started scanning through the lists. "Your adoptive father-"

"Is listed there, yeah I know," Alessandra bit her lip, "Funny timing."

Xavier sighed once more, "I will not try to dissuade you from investigating this matter," he said finally as he handed the files back to her, "All I ask is for you to use caution and to inform me of anything important"

Alessandra blinked in surprise but nodded, placing the files back inside her backpack.

"Will do. It would be nice if you and Erik can cooperate though."

"We shall see. I have missed him."

Alessandra hummed, tapping her fingers on his desk.

"Can I ask you for two favors?"

Xavier raised an eyebrow, but stayed silent.

"Can you get me a train ticket to Philly and a plane ticket to London. And could you possibly put some mental blocks up, limit me to bioelectric and biomagnetic instead of," she waved her hands.

"Any reason for Philadelphia?"

She shrugged, "Old bastard is dead now, might as well say goodbye to the old stomping ground."

Xavier merely gave her a skeptical look but nodded his head anyways. "As you wish."

He rolled towards her, placing two fingers on her temple. A pressure she didn't even notice lifted.

"Thank you," Alessandra meant every word.

"Of course my dear," he gave her a smile. A smile that almost made her feel guilty for snapping at him. "They will come undone if you are in any serious danger, do remember that," he warned gently.

She nodded her head, standing up from her seat.

"Logan can cover my teaching shifts while I'm gone. The man is basically a walking relic so he should be fine."

Xavier let out a small laugh, "I'll keep that in mind."

She could've sworn she saw his eye twinkle.

"Also, I'll have Wade deliver the student essays to you."

Xavier winced, "Must you?"

Alessandra shrugged, "Anything to keep him busy. Plus, he loves you guys."

She was almost out the door when Xavier's voice made her stop in her tracks.

"I know that I will never understand the pain you went through my child and I'm sorry I am unable to alleviate the burdens of your past. But if you ever need to talk, we are here for you. Every single one of us."

Alessandra turned towards him slightly, one foot out the door. "I-" she paused, unsure what to say. Unsure whether to snap back or to remain silent.

"Thank you," she whispered as she left his office. She made her way down the stairs, his words still playing in her mind as she called Wade Wilson to inform him of the new jobs she had for him.

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sykesbyrd99 · 2 years

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babbushka · 3 years

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I’m excited to read all your Kylo AU Sinday writing! May I please request these with either medieval Kylo or archaeological Kylo?

“Swoon, I’ll catch you.” And “You have bewitched me..”

Thank you! 💛

A/N: Thank you so much for sending this in!! I hope you enjoy this fluffy smutty something! :)

2k; NSFW (skinny dipping, public nudity, sex in water)

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Bobbing ever so gently with the current of the river, you breathe in deeply, feeling the warm air of summer fill your lungs, your chest expanding and deflating in a rhythm dictated by the breeze. It it late in the afternoon, and soon you will be expected to return to the throne room, but you still have some time.

Intent on using that time to the fullest of capacities, you lay atop the water, your arms and legs spread out as your hair floats in a great halo around your head. Yes, you think as you breathe, smiling a little as the current whooshes in a calm push past you, you are quite content.

Until that is, a pair of strong arms grab you, making you splutter and snap out of your reverie at once, baring your teeth to whomever has dared disturb your relaxation.

“Unhand me at once or I shall -- !” You start, heart pounding in your chest, a million thoughts running through your mind as you think of the quickest way to incapacitate your captor...

Before you recognize the deep rumbling laughter that comes from the direction of your captor’s chest, and you sigh with fond exasperation, knowing he is not a captor at all.

“You really must learn to pay more attention, my pearl.” Kylo grins with all his crooked teeth, as if he has won some great victory in catching you off guard.

Oh, but he has, won a victory of a different kind. He is home early and the confident attitude he is positively brimming with tells you that it was an early win, another battle claimed by the Empire that you know and love.

You find that you cannot be angry with him for surprising you like this, for it is in his very nature, the element of sneaky silent surprise. So instead, you allow the joy at your husband’s return to fill you, as you throw your arms around his neck and kiss him for all that you’re worth, grinning with your own indulgent happiness.

“Swoon, don’t worry I’ll catch you.” The cheeky bastard teases you, and you can only chuckle brightly at the good mood that he is in. It is rare for him to be so good-spirited, he tended to scowl even on the best of days. But today was a day for celebration, and you have no intention to stop him now.

“Insufferable, you are,” Rolling your eyes teasingly right back, before shaking your head and kissing him again, and again, and again, your body pressing to his as you hum, “But so handsome. I missed you, your highness.”

“Here I am.” He murmurs against your mouth, his teeth nipping at your lower lip, hands not once letting you go as he holds you to him.

“Finally.” You agree with a sigh of relief.

Kylo looks at you then, really looks at you, and it’s the sort of look that makes you hold your breath in heady anticipation, as his chest puffs with deep panting breaths of his own. You wish you could see him free of all his many layers, knowing that the sight would be divine.

And then, almost as if on cue, Kylo decides he does not want to be confined by his clothing any longer, and he pulls away from you to begin stripping down. You grin, perching yourself on a large smooth rock that juts up from the pebbles and sand of the river floor, watching as he reveals himself to you.

His armor comes off in large sections, and he takes care to rest them on the bank of the river. It’s not a very wide river thankfully, so he doesn’t have to go too far. Next comes his tunic, and then his shirt, before he can struggle to shuck off his hose and boots. In just a few short moments, he is completely nude, and my what a marvel it is to see him in the light of day like this, you think.

You yourself are wearing your chemise, a small barrier between your naked body and the elements around you. It does nothing to hide the shape of you though, as the cotton goes completely transparent when wet. It is that transparency that has Kylo’s mouth watering, you find, when he surges back to wrap you up in his arms again, and you feel the hard length of his cock pressing against your stomach.

“Fuck, Kylo, here?” You look around with a giddy laugh, surprised by his lack of care for being so exposed.

“Why not, we are rulers of this domain, why should we not indulge in our pleasure wherever we’d like?” Kylo replies with another searing hot kiss, the muscles in his arms flexing as he presses you close to him.

You kiss him back, and before you know it, he’s lifting you up with the help of the water, bracing you against that large smooth rock once more, and pushing up the wet chemise that clings to your body. Helping him with a moan, you manage to lift it up enough to expose all the way up to your stomach, and without wasting much more time, your husband guides the head of his aching hard cock to your cunt.

“Oh how I have missed the feeling of being so full.” Your head lolls back on the makeshift pillow as he pushes in, a happy sigh of pleasure breathing out of your lungs.

The way Kylo fucks you is animalistic in moments like these -- his instincts take over, the primal urge to be close to you, to be inside you, it consumes him, and in turn, he consumes you. With a hand on your throat to hold you steady, Kylo bites and licks into your mouth, his hips wasting no time to begin thrusting in and out of your wanting pussy, your moans filling the air around you, carried down the river by the breeze.

“Kylo! Oh my darling, more, please give me more!” You cry out, the pleasure immediate and so, so delicious.

He doesn’t say much, doesn’t say anything at all, just grunts out his pleasure as his mouth covers yours completely, sucks down all your moans sighs pants grunts of pleasure, swallows them the way your cunt sucks in his cock, a vice grip, not wanting to let go.

It’s been weeks since you’ve last seen him, which means it’s been weeks since you’ve been properly fucked, and he knows that just as well as you. Holding your hips tight to keep them steady, he fucks you hard, fucks you with all the pent up sexual frustration he’s harbored over the time and distance between you.

You can feel the way his cock presses itself as deep as it can go, you whine as it knocks against your cervix, the force of his hips pushing you up up up the rock, your hands gripping his shoulders, fingers digging in the muscle there as you throw your head back and plead, panting, begging for him to take you harder, faster.

Kylo does, oh he does, touching you all over your body, stimulating you from every possible point. His hands leave your hips, one moves farther down your body to press his thumb against your swollen clit, eliciting a yelp of pleasure from your throat. The other reaches up to pinch and roll a nipple, feeling for the stiff bud from over your chemise where the wet cloth has clung to it.

It doesn’t satisfy him though, and so wordlessly, with all his strength he tears your chemise right in two, and you gasp, the sudden feeling of river water and his hard hot body pressing down on your bare skin. Kylo kisses all across your chest, sucking and biting in his wake, the newly exposed flesh begging to be marked.

“Yes, right there, oh please right there -- more!” You demand, and he’s all too happy to oblige, as he holds you down, pins you to the best of his ability, grinding his hips against yours on long thick drags of his cock.

Your hips lift, back arching off the rock, as your moans and whimpers grow more and more desperate. You’re so close, this close to coming, your body begins to tremble with the want of it. Oh how long had you waited for this feeling, you pant and writhe beneath him, as his cock drags against that spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

“Please, I’m so close, just a little more, please darling!” You can taste it, the edge of adrenaline in the back of your throat, on your tongue. Kylo knows exactly how to push you over, and he puts all his concentration into it, into getting the timing right.

When he rubs your clit in just the right way, his cock brushing up against your spot once, twice, three times, your body snaps up with sharp pleasure, and you shout loud enough that it scares the birds away from the bushes on the bank of the river. Kylo fucks you through your orgasm, making you moan loud loud loud, the pleasure overwhelming as he speeds his pace up.

Sometimes he’ll drag it out long enough that you can come a couple times on his cock before he spills inside of you, but you know he must be tired from the long journey home, so when he grunts and groans against your throat only a few minutes after, before finally going still, you only smile, glad that he too has come.

He begins to kiss you then, kissing you with an urgency that has you confused in your blissful state. Kylo crushes you ever so slightly, not wanting to move away just yet, and while you’re not complaining, you do have to ask,

“What is the matter?” You pant against him as his body is a solid weight against you.

Kylo is quiet for a moment, and you feel the current of the river washing away all the come and slick, carrying it away off to heavens knows where, cleansing you of this sweaty filthy act. You are almost compelled to ask again, but you know better, and that he will reply when he has the words.

Kissing you again, he tries to press these words into your very being, gentle with you yes, but still an edge of danger, of desire that he cannot shake. You kiss him back, letting yourselves let the water rush over your bodies, simply being together for a few moments more.

“You have bewitched me, body and soul...and I love,” Kylo punctuates these words with more kisses, soft and gentle atop your lips, across your face, “I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you.”

Oh how your heart beats for this man, you can’t help but think, for even after fucking you so hard that you can barely see straight, you can see how dearly he cares for you.

“Then by my side you shall remain.” You nuzzle your nose against his, and he only presses his hard cock deeper into your warm cunt in response. Smiling with bliss and joy, you card Kylo’s hair away from his face and kiss him, whispering, “There is a banquet prepared for you, a grand feast. After the performance you just gave, I’m sure you are hungry for it.”

“In a moment.” He turns to press a kiss to your palm, before hoisting you off of the rock, pulling you to his chest, encouraging your legs to wrap around his hips, “Let me hold you a while longer, just a little while.”

Resting your head on his shoulder, you let him do just that, until the water of the river turns chilly as the late afternoon sun moves across the sky. You would stay like that with him for all eternity, should he desire so, for with him so near, you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tagging some Kylo lovin' friends!

@mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @hswritingrecs @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @schopenhauerdeathsquad @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars @kylo-ren-is-alive @caitlin-was-here @canikeepitonplease @icarusinthesea @princessflip @goddessofsprings @mrs-gucci @baubub @bucky-j-barnes @mindyoshiii @beachwoodmonet @darkhairedmenrule @eagerforhoney @nekonaomitard @einmal-im-traum @justlenastuff @0nihiime

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren smut #adam driver fanfic #adcu #medieval au #medieval kylo ren #kylo ren imagine

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breelandwalker · 4 years

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Witches in History - Podcast Recs

If you prefer your history lessons in podcast form, here’s a list of audio treats about witches, witch trials, and witch panics, from antiquity to the modern day. Check out these shows on your favorite podcast app!

I will update this list as I find new examples. Feel free to add your own!

(Last Updated January 16, 2024 - Full post under Read More)

Witches & Witch Trials in History

Hex Positive

Ep. 3 - Hex Positive June 1, 2020 Bree delves into what it means to be Hex Positive, as well as discussing and dismantling some of the confusion surrounding the use of hexes and curses. Just what IS the Threefold Law, anyway? The answer may surprise you.

Ep. 19 - The Trouble with Tarot August 1, 2021 Tarot and tarot-reading have been a part of the modern witchcraft movement since the 1960s. But where did these cards and their meanings come from? Are they secretly Ancient Egyptian mystical texts? Do they have their origins among the Romani people? Are they a sacred closed practice that should not be used by outsiders? Nope, nope, and nope. This month, we delve into the actual history of tarot cards, discover their origins on the gaming tables of Italy and France, meet the people who developed their imagery and symbolism into the deck we know today, and debunk some of the nonsense that’s been going around lately concerning their use. The Witchstorian is putting on her research specs for this one!

Ep. 20 - Witchcraft and the Law September 1, 2021 A discussion of the history of witchcraft-related laws and how changing views on magic, religion, and superstition first denied the existence of witches, then panicked over their alleged activities, and finally settled into something resembling common sense. This is a long slog, encompassing over 3000 years of history from a broomstick-height view, and I get off on a few tangents where history crosses paths with modern issues. But if you’re a history buff, you’re gonna love this episode!

Ep. 21 - Witchcraft and Modern Law September 21, 2021 A follow-up to Ep. 20, this time dealing with modern legal codes that may affect our practices even if they don’t deal with witchcraft directly. There is also some discussion of 20th-century events missed in the previous episode, as well as a brief overview of witch hunts still occurring in some parts of the world today.

Ep. 22 - Bree and Lozzie vs the Witch Hunters October 1, 2021 Bree NicGarran and guest host Lozzie Stardust run down the history and many misdeeds of notorious witch hunters Matthew Hopkins and John Stearne.

Ep. 23 - The Name of the Game November 1, 2021 Bree delves into the history, myths, and urban legends surrounding Ouija boards. Along the way, we’ll uncover their origins in the spiritualist movement, discover the pop culture phenomenon that labeled them portals to hell, and try to separate fact from internet fiction with regard to what these talking boards can actually do.

Ep. 28 - The Easter-Ostara Debacle April 1, 2022 Bree puts on her Witchstorian hat once more to delve into the origins of both Easter and Ostara and to finally answer the age-old question: which came first – the bunny or the egg?

Ep. 036 - Margaret Effing Murray with Trae Dorn July 1, 2023 Margaret Murray was a celebrated author, historian, folklorist, Egyptologist, archaeologist, anthropologist, first-wave feminist, and the first woman to be appointed to the position of lecturer in archaeology in the UK. So why so we get so annoyed whenever her name is mentioned in conversations about witchcraft? Well, it all has to do with a book Margaret wrote back in 1921...which just so happened to go on to have a profound influence on the roots of the modern witchcraft movement. Nerd & Tie senpai and host of BS-Free Witchcraft Trae Dorn joins me in the virtual studio to discuss the thoroughly-discredited witch-cult hypothesis, Murray's various writings and accomplishments, and why modern paganism might not have caught on so strongly without her.

BS-Free Witchcraft

Ep 03: The History of Wicca October 06, 2018 On this episode Trae digs deep into the history of Wicca, and tries to give the most accurate history of the religion as they can. I mean, yeah, we know this is a general Witchcraft podcast, but Wicca is the most widely practiced form of Witchcraft in the US, UK, Canada and Australia… so how it got started is kind of important for the modern Witchcraft movement. (And trust me, there aren’t any pulled punches here.)

Ep. 28: The Burning Times May 30, 2020 On this installment of the podcast, we tackle probably one of the more controversial topics in the modern witchcraft movement: The Burning Times. What were the actual “Burning Times,” where do we get that phrase from, and what really happened? Also, how has this phrase been used in modern witchcraft? It’s a heavy one, folks.

Ep. 33: The Wheel of the Year March 27, 2021 After two fairly depressing episodes, it’s time to move on to something a little less bleak. This time around we’re talking about the Wheel of the Year! Well, at least the basic idea. Where did it come from, who slapped these eight holidays together, and are they really something every witch needs to give a crap about? (Minor spoiler, the answer to that last question is a firm “no.”)

Ep. 39. - Mabon and Aidan Kelly Sept. 25, 2021 In the last few years there has been some minor push back against using the name “Mabon” for the Autumnal Equinox. In this episode we’re going to talk about how Mabon got its name, who came up with the name, and why exactly a small group of British Traditional Wiccans are so mad about it. (Spoiler: it’s because a bunch of Gardnerian Wiccans are mad at Aidan Kelly.)

Ep. 43 - “Lilith” Jan. 29, 2022 As long as I can remember, people have been debating whether or not it’s okay for non-Jewish witches to incorporate Lilith into their practices. Is Lilith closed? Is it cultural appropriation? There’s so much misinformation in new age and poorly written witchcraft books on Lilith, it’s hard for some witches to get a clear picture. Like I’ve run into folks on social media talking about Lilith as a “Goddess,” which she very much isn’t. Let’s dive into the origins of the folklore surrounding this figure, and I’ll let you decide whether or not it’s okay to work with Lilith. But, uh, spoiler – I don’t think you should.

Ep. 53 - Modern Witchcraft History Nov. 26, 2022 This episode of BS-Free Witchcraft is actually a panel from CritWitchCon 2022 this last October. Spend an hour with Alex Wrekk, Bree NicGarran, Lozzie Stardust, and Trae Dorn as they talk about the history of modern witchcraft. Also you get to list to Trae speed run like 130 years of history in under five minutes. [It was epic.]

Ep. 54 - A Conversation with Aidan Kelly Dec. 31, 2022 Trae sits down with Aidan Kelly (yes THE Aidan Kelly) to discuss the September 2021 episode listed above and set the record straight about Kelly’s new Wheel of the Year.

Irish History Podcast - The Kilkenny Witch Trial of 1342, pts 1-3 Dec 20, 2018 - Jan 28, 2019 One of the most famous or perhaps notorious incidents in Kilkenny’s medieval history took place in 1324 when the Bishop of Ossory accused Alice Kyteler, a powerful merchant in the city, of heresy and witchcraft. This sparked a lethal struggle in the town that would end in shocking brutality. The consequences for those caught in the middle would be devastating.

Historical Blindness, E105 - Omens, Charms, and Rituals: A History of Superstition Nov. 8, 2022 If you’ve ever wondered about common beliefs about what’s good or bad luck and what might be a portent of doom, then this episode is for you. In it, host Nathan Lloyd looks into the murky origins of superstitions and the folklore it’s related to, like jack o’lanterns, will o’ the wisp, and the fearsome Black Shuck.

Frightful, Eps. 28-29 - Hugh and Mary Parsons, The Springfield Witches Nov, 6-20, 2022 The year is 1651, and strange things are starting to occur. Livestock are dying, crops are struggling, and food is starting to spoil. Locals are even having strange seizures, and at night, as they try to sleep, they are haunted by terrifying nightmares. Then, the children of the village start to die. Are they just going through a terrible season…or might this be the season of the witch?

Cabinet of Curiosities, E460 - Hocus Pocus Nov. 17, 2022 Legendary battles and tales of revenge are the focus of this episode, including a brief rundown of the rather legendary feud between W.B. Yeats and the infamous Aleister Crowley.

Cabinet of Curiosities, E548 - Witchy Sept 21, 2023 A brief story about the 1894 trial of alleged wizard Jacob Culp.(These events may or may not have been part of a spate of witch panics which swept German immigrant communities in Pennsylvania and Ohio in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.)

Toil & Trouble: A Podcast of the Macabre A Tidbit of Trouble, Ep 6 - Grace Sherwood (Dec 11, 2019) In this mini episode, Tori is joined by author Bree NicGarran! Bree tells the tale of Grace Sherwood, a strong independent nonconforming healer who was accused of witchcraft.

A Tidbit of Trouble, Ep 15 - The Samlesbury Witch Trials Hey everyone! Our favorite Witchstorian is back with another tale of witchery! Author and podcaster Bree NicGarran joins Tori for this mini episode about a family feud turned witch trial! Stick around for the end of the episode to hear the trailer for Bree’s new podcast, Hex Positive.

Noble Blood - The Witch-Hunter King March 3, 2020 During a post-wedding detour in Denmark, James VI of Scotland learned of the evils of witches, and he brought his anti-witch fervor with him when he returned to Scotland.

Noble Blood - Eleanor Cobham, Necromancer Witch October 31, 2023 After marrying the Duke of Gloucester, Eleanor Cobham became one of the wealthiest and most powerful women in England. She and her husband were a heartbeat away from being King and Queen, and the promise of power tempted Eleanor into making a fatal mistake.

Noble Blood - John Dee’s Language of the Angels January 16, 2024 Alchemist, magician, astronomer, astrologer - John Dee served as an advisor to Queen Elizabeth I, interpreting the stars for her. And when a comet crossed the sky, he told her that it portended the birth of something he came up with a name for: the British Empire.

The Dark Histories Podcast - Benandanti: Anti-Witches & The Inquisition June 20, 2020 The witch trials throughout medieval Europe have become renowned for their relentless, brutal torture and widespread execution. Whether floated as a form of class warfare, patriarchal dominance, or religious persecution, the stories that remain are pitch black with their depictions of callous violence. Likewise, the legacy of the Medieval Inquisition is too one of severe brutality and overzealous, corrupt authoritarians crushing those with differing beliefs and lifestyles. Despite this, there is one story from history of a group of individuals in Northern Italy that whilst crossing over with both The Inquisition and witch trials, somehow came out the other side with relatively few casualties. So unbelievable were the stories that came from the individuals involved that the Inquisitors themselves wrote many off as simple fantasies in the face of their sincere admissions. Known as the Benandanti, this was a group of people whose story was truly one of the strangest in the myths, legends, and lore of historical witchcraft.

Ridiculous History - Brooms and Witchcraft, Pt. 1 & 2 Oct. 13-15, 2020 Most people are familiar with the stereotypical image of a witch: a haggard, often older individual with a peaked hat, black robes, a demonic familiar and, oddly enough, a penchant for cruising around on broomsticks. But where did that last weirdly specific trop of flying on a broomstick actually come from? Could the stereotype of witches on broomsticks actually be a drug reference? Join Ben, Noel, and Casey as they continue digging through the history and folklore of witchcraft - and how it affected pop culture in the modern day.

Stuff You Missed in History Class - A Brief History of Tarot Cards Oct. 26, 2020 How did a card game gain a reputation for being connected to mysticism? Tarot's history takes a significant turn in the 18th century, but much of that shift in perception is based on one author's suppositions and theories. (This show has many episodes on witchcraft and witch trials.)

Historical Blindness - A Rediscovery of Witches, Pt 1 & 2 Oct 13, 2020 & Oct. 27, 2020 A discussion of the early modern witch craze and the myths, misconceptions, and theories about witches spread by academics. Sarah Handley-Cousins of “Dig: A History Podcast” joins the host for both episodes.

Historical Blindness - Hermes Trismegistus, Father of Alchemy January 5, 2021 In this volume of my Encyclopedia Grimoria, I continue to seek the origin of magic in history, having followed the trail in my previous exploration from ancient Persia to ancient Egypt, where I now find the enigmatic figure of Hermes Trismegistus and his Emerald Tablet.

Historical Blindness - A Very Historically Blind Christmas Dec. 18, 2018 An exploration of the origins of Christmas traditions, with special guest Brian Earl of the Christmas Past podcast. (There is also some mention of Christmas witches!)

The Conspirators, Ep. 63 - The Last Witch Trial Nov. 26, 2017 England’s official laws regarding the prosecution of witches dates back to the 1600s. Those very same laws would also remain on the books until well into the 20th century. In 1944, a psychic medium named Helen Duncan would gain notoriety by becoming the last woman to be tried under England’s witchcraft laws.

The Conspirators, Ep. 217 - The Half-Hanged Oct 16, 2023 In this episode, we’ll explore some of the ways people throughout the 17th century punished accused witches. The host also guides you through the story of the Salem Witch Trials, as well as an earlier tale that helped inspire one of our most famous modern day authors.

The Poisoner’s Cabinet - Alice Kyteler and the Kilkenny Witch Trials May 21, 2021 Witches and heresy and devils, oh my! We are heading right back into the 1300s to tell the tale of alleged murderer Alice Kyteler who was accused of being a witch - and sparked quite the row across Ireland.

The Poisoner’s Cabinet, Ep. 132 - Halloween Special: The Pendle Witch Trials October 28, 2022 Sinead and Nick sit down to discuss the story of the so-called Pendle Witches. What led to so many people being accused of witchcraft in 1612? What crimes were committed? And why are all these names so incredible?

Wine and Crime, Ep. 253 - Witch Hunts Jan. 20, 2022 This week, the gals conjure up some tragic tales of suspected witches. Topics include devil's marks, near drownings, a devastating storm, and a Great Noise. Pour yourself a glass of Winc's Fog Land Cabernet Sauvignon, put on your best Easter Hag outfit, and tune in for Witch Hunts.

MORBID: The St. Osyth Witch Trials (Mar. 15, 2022) Alaina brings us the true story of the The St Osyth Witch trials this week. It all starts with a "naughty named" woman, Ursula, potentially causing the lameness of another woman called Grace. Causing the lameness of another was grounds for being charged with the very serious felony of Witchcraft, and really it all went downhill from there. In the end fourteen were accused, two were hanged and many more died in prison.

MORBID: New England Witches (Sept. 12, 2022) Alaina brings us the stories of the first four women accused of witchcraft in Boston, MA. It gets pretty heavy, so at the end Ash will give us a little spooky witch’s tale as a bit of a palette cleanser.

MORBID, Ep. 496 - Half-Hanged Mary (Sept 21, 2023) In the depths of American history, there are few examples of mass hysteria that loom larger than the Salem witch trials of 1692. As horrific as it was, it was far from the only example of witch-hunting in Massachusetts’ history. In fact, ten years before hysteria over evil magic gripped the village of Salem, similar accusations of witchcraft were aimed at Mary Webster of Hadley, a small village in western Massachusetts.

MORBID, Ep. 503 - The Torsåker Witch Trials (Oct 16, 2023) When it comes to the horrors of witch hunts and trials around the world, Sweden is not often cited as one of the more aggressive or egregious nations. Nevertheless, the Torsåker Witch Trials remain a shocking example of religious hysteria due to the way in which they unfolded, which included local leaders defying the Swedish Crown and taking it upon themselves to identify, try, and execute supposed witches without proper authority. Moreover, while the Torsåker case may have unfolded like most others across Europe, it remains an outlier in that those responsible for starting the hysteria weren’t just held accountable for their false accusations, but were in fact murdered.

DIG: A History Podcast

Both Man and Witch: Uncovering the Invisible History of Male Witches Sept 13, 2020 Since at least the 1970s, academic histories of witches and witchcraft have enjoyed a rare level of visibility in popular culture. Feminist, literary, and historical scholarship about witches has shaped popular culture to such a degree that the discipline has become more about unlearning everything we thought we knew about witches. Though historians have continued to investigate and re-interpret witch history, the general public remains fixated on the compelling, feminist narrative of the vulnerable women hanged and burned at the stake for upsetting the patriarchy. While this part of the story can be true, especially in certain contexts, it’s only part of the story, and frankly, not even the most interesting part. Today, we tackle male witches in early modern Eurasia and North America!

Doctor, Healer, Midwife, Witch: How the the Women’s Health Movement Created the Myth of the Midwife-Witch Sept 6, 2020 In 1973, two professors active in the women’s health movement wrote a pamphlet for women to read in the consciousness-raising reading groups. The pamphlet, inspired by Our Bodies, Ourselves, looked to history to explain how women had been marginalized in their own healthcare. Women used to be an important part of the medical profession as midwives, they argued — but the midwives were forced out of practice because they were so often considered witches and persecuted by the patriarchy in the form of the Catholic Church. The idea that midwives were regularly accused of witchcraft seemed so obvious that it quickly became taken as fact. There was only one problem: it wasn’t true. In this episode, we follow the convoluted origin story of the myth of the midwife-witch.

“Wicked Practises and Sorcerye”: Cunning Folk, Witch Trials, and the Tragedy of Joan Flower and Her Daughters Sept 21, 2020 In 1618, the Earl of Rutland and his wife accused three women of bewitching their family. They believed that bewitchment was the cause of death of their first son, and the long-term illness of their second. The women in question were former servants of their household at Belvoir (or Beaver) Castle near Bottesford, England: John Flower, a Bottesford cunning woman and her two daughters, Margaret and Phillipa.

Francis Manners and his wife, Cecily, were convinced that their family had been cursed, but historian Tracy Borman suspects foul play of a non-magical sort. Ultimately, the motive mattered little to the Flower women. Their accusers were too powerful to be denied a conviction, and they were too inconsequential, with too few friends, to survive a witch hunt.

Remember Rutterkin? Witch’s Familiars, Religious Reformation, and Sexy Beasts in Early Modern Europe May 8, 2022 Toads, dogs, cats, ferrets, rats, and occasionally even butterflies were depicted in the 16th and 17th centuries as “witch’s familiars” throughout Europe. A servant of the witches, whose purpose was to help them stir up trouble and cause harm in their enemies, familiars were particularly important in English witch lore. Some were conjured by witches, some sent by the Devil to tempt a woman into maleficence, some were supposed to be the Devil himself in the form of a common black dog. Whatever their origin and intent, familiars were not just background characters in English witch trials. They were presented as evidence and used to sentence hundreds, probably thousands, of people to death for witchcraft – in England. Not so in France or Denmark or Italy. It was only in England that the familiar’s significance was codified in law. Why, you ask? Great question. Let’s find out.

Cheesecloth, Spiritualism, and State Secrets: Helen Duncan’s Famous Witchcraft Trial July 3, 2022 Helen Duncan was charged under the 1735 Witchcraft Act, but her case was no eighteenth-century sensation: she was arrested, charged, and ultimately imprisoned in 1944. Of course, in 1944, Britain was at war, fighting fascism by day on the continent and hiding in air raid shelters by night at home. The spectacle of a Spiritualist medium on trial for witchcraft seemed out of place. What possessed the Home Secretary to allow this trial to make headlines all across the UK in 1944? That’s what we’re here to find out.

LORE

Ep 12 - Half-Hanged (Aug 10, 2015) The attempted hanging of Mary Webster in Hadley, Massachusetts. The event inspired confusion, fear, and a rather stirring poem.

Ep 28 - Making A Mark (Feb 22, 2016) The witch trial of a woman named Cora and her infant in the town of Frisco on Hatteras Island, OBX NC. Part historical happening, part apocryphal folk tale, but part of the lore all the same.

Ep 41 - Hole in the Wall (Aug 22, 2016) This episode of Lore tackles the subject of witch trials in Scotland, including the Scottish Witch Hunt of 1597 and the Paisley Witch Trials of 1697.

Ep 57 - Quarantine ( April 3, 2017) An exploration of the circumstances surrounding the Loudun trial, in which a priest named Urbain Grandier was tried, convicted, and executed for allegedly making a pact with the Devil in Loudun, France in 1633

Ep 62 - Desperate Measures (June 12, 2017) Explores the circumstances surrounding the murder of pow-wow practitioner Nelson Rehmeyer in Hex Hollow, about 12 miles south of York, Pennsylvania, in 1928. Rehmeyer was killed by John Blymire, John Curry, and Wilbert Hess, because they believed that Rehmeyer had placed a hex on Blymire and Hess.

Ep 70 - Familiar (Oct 2, 2017) Describes the life and career of Matthew Hopkins, the Witchfinder General who practiced mostly around Suffolk, England during the English Civil War. Hopkins was at least partly responsible for the executions of more than 100 people, including the burning of Mary Lakeland in Ipswich in 1645.

Ep 75 - Black and Wild (Dec 11, 2017) Describes the exploits of two men from London, England: John Dee, a self-proclaimed scientist who served under Queen Elizabeth I; and Edward Kelley, a con-artist who claimed to be able to talk to angels, as well as having other prophetic powers.

Ep 94 - Hard Rain (Sept 3, 2018) An exploration of the Lithobolia, an account written by Richard Chamberlayne – the royal secretary of the Colony of New Hampshire – and published in London in 1698. Chamberlayne's account describes the property dispute between George Walton and Hannah Jones – who Walton accused of witchcraft – on Great Island (modern-day New Castle) in 1682.

Ep 136 - Foresight (March 16, 2020) A continuation of the exploration of witch-trials throughout history, including the execution of Janet Boyman in Edinburgh, Scotland, in 1572.

Ep 140 - Potential (April 13, 2020) An exploration of the Triora Witch Trials, which took place in Triora, Italy, in 1587-89.

Ep. 156 - Bottled Up (Oct 26, 2020) A discussion of folk beliefs about witchcraft from Canewdon, Essex, including witch bottles, white mice, and the eternal battle between baneful and beneficial magics.

Ep. 163 - Persistence (Feb 1, 2021) The unfortunate story of Caleb Powell and Elizabeth Morse, together with some account of counter-magic, and the life of celebrated prophetess Moll Pitcher.

Ep. 183 - Suffer the Children (Oct 18, 2021) An exploration of the witch trials in Mora, Sweden in the late 1660s, and the subsequent “Great Noise” in nearby Torsauken, all of which featured a fictional island and children as the main accusers.

Ep. 191 - Throwing Voices (Jan. 31, 2022) The story of John Darrell - Puritan, witch-finder, exorcist-for-hire…and charlatan.

Ep. 209 - Thick and Thin (Oct. 03, 2022) An exploration of the myths and folklore connected to broomsticks and the people who ride them.

Ep. 211 - Charmed (Oct. 17, 2022) An exploration of the history of lucky charms and protective talismans.

Ep. 213 - Dark Tails (Oct. 31, 2022) Superstitions and folklore surrounding the domestic cat and its’ presence in the home.

Ep. 221 - Remote Control (Feb. 13, 2023) A discussion of various examples of love magic.

Ep. 223 - Worlds Collide (Mar. 13, 2023) An exploration of witch trials in which the accused witches were men.

Ep. 235 - Privilege (August 28, 2023) A discussion of the few notable witch trials in Ireland, including the stories of Alice Kyteler and Dorcas Kelly, and why such trials were so infrequent there compared to other places during the heyday of the witch panics.

The History of Witchcraft Podcast, hosted by Samuel Hume Witches didn’t exist, and yet thousands of people were executed for the crime of witchcraft. Why? The belief in magic and witchcraft has existed in every recorded human culture; this podcast looks at how people explained the inexplicable, turned random acts of nature into conscious acts of mortal or supernatural beings, and how desperate communities took revenge against the suspected perpetrators.

Unobscured, Season One - The Salem Witch Trials Welcome to Salem, Massachusetts. It’s 1692. And all hell is about to break loose.

Unobscured is a deep-dive history podcast from the labs of How Stuff Works, featuring the writing and narrative talents of Aaron Mahnke, horror novelist and the mind behind Lore and Cabinet of Curiosities.

As with his other series, Mahnke approaches the events in Salem armed with a mountain of research. Interviews with prominent historians add depth and documentation to each episode. And it’s not just the trials you’ll learn about; it’s the stories of the people, places, attitudes, and conflicts that led to the deaths of more than twenty innocent people.

Each week, a new aspect of the story is explored, gradually weaving events and personalities together in chronological order to create a perspective of the trials that is both expansive and intimate. From Bridget Bishop to Cotton Mather, from Andover to Salem Town, Mahkne digs deep to uncover the truth behind the most notorious witch trials in American history.

Think you know the story of Salem? Think again.

Modern History - The Satanic Panic

(Please note that any report on the Satanic Panic is likely to include discussion of potentially triggering topics, including but not limited to murder, violence, sexual assault, and abuse of children and animals.)

American Hysteria - Satanic Panic, pt 1 & 2 Dec. 10 2018 - Jan. 07, 2019 This two-part episode covers perhaps the most mystifying moral panic in US history, the 1980s and early 90s ‘Satanic Panic.’ For this episode, Chelsey covers the rise of organized Satanism beginning in the late 60s, as well as the adversarial countercultures of the hippies and the metalheads, and their apparent Satanic crimes that would be hailed as proof of their evil, as well as proof that teens, as well as children, were in serious moral peril. Satan was allegedly hypnotizing the youth with secret messages in backwards rock songs, teaching them occult magic in Saturday morning cartoons, and causing suicides through a popular role-playing games, all while helping religion blur into politics for good.

For part two, Chelsey will cover what came next, a serious investigation into an imagined network of Satanic cults ritually abusing children in daycare centers all over the country. Chelsey will try to understand this shocking decade in history, why it really happened, and the cultural issues it was really about.

American Hysteria, Eps. 64-66 - Chick Tracts, pt 1-3 March 20 - April 03, 2023 In his own lifetime, Jack Chick was one of most prolific and widely-read comic artists in history. His company, Chick Tracts, published hundreds of millions of copies of pocket-sized bible comics, filled with lurid illustrations of cackling demons, wicked witches, and sinister cults, all hell-bent on corrupting any hapless mortal they could get their hands on. These tracts were meant to be left where they might be found by a sinner in need of salvation, with a scared-straight morality-play approach to Christianity that contributed in no small part to the period in the late 20th century we now call the Satanic Panic. (There’s also a follow-up two-part episode about one of Chick’s “occult experts,” who claimed to be, among other things, a real-life vampire.)

BS-Free Witchcraft, Ep 10 - The Satanic Panic April 27, 2019 The Satanic Panic of the 70s, 80s, and 90s shaped the Modern Witchcraft Movement in a lot of unexpected ways. Its effects still ripple through a lot of our sources, so in this installment of the podcast we’re digging into this extremely weird part of American history. It’s a bit of a doozy, after all.

BS-Free Witchcraft - Ep. 32: A New Satanic Panic? February 27, 2021 A couple of years ago, we did an episode on the the history of the Satanic Panic of the latter half of the twentieth century, but recent events have led us to ask - could it be happening again? It’s very possible that we are at the start of a new wave of satanic panic, and QAnon is just the latest symptom of a larger problem.

Occultae Veritatis, Case #014: Satanic Panic of Martensville Jan. 28, 2018 Today the hosts cover one of the various Satanic ritual abuse scandals that happened close to them. Is it full of hot air and false allegations? Yes. Yes it is.

Occultae Veritatis, Case #097A & B: Dungeons, Dragons, and the Satanic Panic Dec. 07, 2019 - Dec. 15, 2019 Dungeons & Dragons, introduced in 1974, attracted millions of players, along with accusations by some religious figures that the game fostered demon worship and a belief in witchcraft and magic

Uncover, Season 6 - The Martensville Panic Throughout the 1980s, Satanic cults were widely believed to be preying on children — torturing and terrorizing them as part of dark rituals. Across North America, there were hundreds of false allegations, scores of unjust criminal trials and countless lives torn apart. But never any real proof. By the early 90s, the panic reached the tiny Prairie town of Martensville, Saskatchewan. And nearly 30 years later, the people touched by it all are still picking up the pieces. So what happened? And why do so many still believe to this day?

CULTS - Satanic Panic miniseries, Pt. 1-5 Oct. 05, 2020 - Oct. 27, 2020 In the 1980s, “Satanic Panic” was a mass hysteria that consumed communities and ruined lives - all over things that never even happened. In this new five-part series, we’re examining the origins of the panic, tracing back through the decades to see how the fear of Satan’s influence in society swept across America.

You’re Wrong About... - Michelle Remembers, Pt. 1-5 March 26, 2020 - April 30, 2020 Intrepid hosts Sarah and Mike delve into one of the foundational texts of the Satanic Panic - “Michelle Remembers.” A young woman spends a year undergoing hypnosis therapy, which uncovers repressed memories of shocking and horrifying abuse at the hands of a Satanic cult. The book became a foundational text for both mental health professionals and law enforcement attempting to grapple with an alleged nationwide network of insidiously invisible child-abducting cults. The only problem is...none of what Michelle remembered ever actually happened.

You’re Wrong About.... - The Satan Seller, Pt. 1-5 June 28, 2021 - August 9, 2021 Sarah and Mike return to Camp You’re Wrong About for another Satanic Panic story hour. This time, the summer book club explores Mike Warnke’s 1972 “memoir” about joining a demonic cult, rising through the ranks of Satan’s favorite lackeys, his sudden downfall and redemption, and the California hedonism that made him do it. This is followed by a discussion of the Cornerstone Magazine exposé that brought the facts to light and thoroughly discredited Warnke’s story.

Frightful, Eps. 20-21 - Doreen Irvine, Queen of the Black Witches June 5-19, 2022 An in-depth look at the curious case of Doreen Irvine, author of “From Witchcraft to Christ,” a Christian activist who claimed to have once been an important leader in the shadowy world of the occult.

Miscellaneous

The Poisoner’s Cabinet, Ep 14 - Mary Bateman, The Yorkshire Witch May 22, 2020 This week, we delve into the dark, deceptive world of Mary Bateman, a murderer and con artist who came to be known as the Yorkshire Witch. How did this cunning woman become so notorious across Yorkshire, how did she dupe so many innocent people with her witchy ways, and what can we learn from the Prophet Hen of Leeds?

The Poisoner’s Cabinet, Ep. 30 - The Affair of the Poisons September 11, 2020 Multiple poisons and witchcraft abound this week, as we celebrate hitting 30 episodes with the conclusion of Nick’s European poisoning trilogy - the famous Affair of the Poisons. Was the poisoning hysteria in 17th century Paris justified? How much do you know about the different methods of fortune telling? And is using a Black Mass to get a royal shag a bit much?

Irish History Podcast - Human Skulls and Pagan Idols - The story of a sacred bog September 6, 2021 Until recently, few people had heard of Gortnacranagh in Co Roscommon. Then, in early August, archaeologists announced they had made startling discoveries during an excavation of what appears to have been a prehistoric sacred bog in the area.

Dig: A History Podcast - The Demonologist and the Clairvoyant: Ed and Lorraine Warren, Paranormal Investigation, and Exorcism in the Modern World Oct 3, 2021 In the 1970s, Lorraine and Ed Warren had a spotlight of paranormal obsession shining on them. In the last decade, their work as paranormal investigators–ghost hunters–has been the premise for a blockbuster horror franchise totaling at least seven films so far, and more planned in the near future. So… what the heck? Is this for real? Yes, friends, today we’re talking about demonology, psychic connections to the dead, and the patriarchy. Just a typical day with your historians at Dig.

You’re Wrong About...Ed and Lorraine Warren w. Jamie Loftus November 8, 2021 Special Guest Jamie Loftus tells Sarah about Ed and Lorraine Warren (of The Conjuring and Annabelle fame). Topics of interest include Connecticut as a locus of scary happenings, New England uncles, and psychic communication with a tearstained Bigfoot.

You’re Wrong About…Winter Book Club - The Amityville Horror, Pt. 1-3 Dec. 20, 2021 - Feb. 6, 2022 Sarah tells guest host Jamie Loftus about the Amityville Horror, how it’s a Christmas story, and buying murder furniture might not be such a great idea. Further highlights include Jodie the Demon Pig, poor insulation and terrible parenting as evidence of a haunting, lots and lots of sunk cost fallacy, and how the book kind of debunks itself.

BS-Free Witchcraft, Ep. 55 - Lucky Girl Syndrome and the Law of Attraction January 28, 2023 Trae takes a look at one of New Age spirituality’s most toxic philosophies - The Law of Attraction. The history of the idea is discussed, where it came from, and how this dangerous combination of prosperity gospel, purity culture, and victim-blaming has come back in a major way to a whole new generation as “Lucky Girl Syndrome.”

Dig: A History Podcast - Plastic Shamans and Spiritual Hucksters: A History of Peddling and Protecting Native American Spirituality July 24, 2022 In the late 20th century, white Americans flocked to New Age spirituality, collecting crystals, hugging trees, and finding their places in the great Medicine Wheel. Many didn’t realize - or didn’t care - that much of this spirituality was based on the spiritual faiths and practices of Native American tribes. Frustrated with what they called “spiritual hucksterism,” members of the American Indian Movement (AIM) began protesting - and have never stopped. Who were these “plastic shamans,” and how did the spiritual services they sold become so popular.

(Updated January 16, 2024)

#witchcraft #witchblr #witch trials #history #podcasts #podcast recs #long post #fuck the warrens #satanic panic

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

[CN] Shaw’s Creative Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 创意之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

This date features S2 Shaw, but contains no spoilers for S2!

[ This date was released on 13 May 2021 ]

Removing the VR headset, I rub my slightly sore eyes. Seeing the familiar modern furniture leaves me in a momentary trance.

MC: I finally cleared it - this game about the ancient times is pretty immersive.

Aside from completing missions, the game also has a rich plot written in a classical literary style. As a “workshop apprentice”, I successfully created a string of wood carved persimmons.

Rotating my aching wrists, it’s as though the sensation of carving products is still lingering on my hands.

MC: It’s a shame that I could only do that in the game...

Just when I’m about to continue grumbling, my phone suddenly rings.

Tapping the answer button, a familiar voice drifts lazily to my ear.

Shaw: Not a sound from you even during the weekend. What are you up to?

MC: I just played an immersive game, and it’s pretty fun.

At the other end of the line, Shaw makes an “oh” sound, then continues asking.

Shaw: Are you planning to stay at home today?

MC: Mm. I finally finished a big program, so I’m pretty comfortable playing games at home.

Hearing my response, Shaw’s tone lifts slightly at the end.

Shaw: It’s just a game. You can play it anytime, can’t you? The weather outside is great. Staying at home is such a waste. Why not take a stroll outside?

My gaze sweeps over the VR headset. While I’m hesitating whether or not to agree, a thought suddenly flashes across my mind, and I have an idea.

MC: Shaw, why don't you accompany me somewhere?

Shaw pauses for a moment, his subtle breathing drifting over the phone along with the electric currents.

Shaw: Where do you want to go?

MC: I’ll keep it a secret first. You’ll know when you get there. It’s definitely a place you wouldn’t expect.

Shaw chuckles softly, and he seems to stretch.

Shaw: All right. Since you invited me with such magnificent hospitality, I’ll reluctantly keep you company.

Soon after, the both of us stand at the entrance of a wood carving studio. Shaw tilts his head, looking me up and down.

Shaw: You sure we’re not at the wrong place?

I nod my head.

MC: How is it? I already said you definitely wouldn’t expect it.

Shaw arches his brows, a somewhat surprised expression in his eyes.

Shaw: When did you get a new hobby?

Not giving Shaw a direct response, I lift my hand, raising my phone to his face. The picture on the screen features the string of wood carved persimmons I made in the game.

MC: Look at this string of persimmons. I carved it bit by bit in the game. Looks good, doesn’t it? I plan to carve a replica based on this later.

Shaw leans closer to give it a sweeping glance, his expression a little subtle.

Shaw: ...the object in the picture isn’t too bad. But do you like it that much that you must carve a string of persimmons?

MC: Don’t underestimate this small string of persimmons. Slow work yields fine products. The smaller something is, the more patience and carving skills are tested. Also, this is the first wood carving I made in the game. Furthermore, “everything will go according to one’s wishes” is a wonderful message and well-wish. Making it myself will feel very meaningful.

[Note] For the translation of “everything will go according to one’s wishes”, What MC says is “柿柿如意”, which is a pun based on the popular well-wish “事事如意” (“everything will go according to one’s wishes”)

“Persimmon” is 柿 (“shi”). “Everything” is 事事 (“shi shi”)

Shaw: But based on the level of complexity, you can’t make it without having a foundation in carving.

Predicting that Shaw would say this, I make a fist, lifting my head up confidently.

MC: Don’t underestimate me. I think I’m naturally talented in handwork. If I can make it in the game, I might be able to in reality.

Hearing my “lofty aspirations”, the corners of Shaw’s lips hook upwards, and he elongates the tail of his sentence coolly.

Shaw: Fine, I’ll wait and see.

Probably because it’s the lunch break, only the boss is in the shop.

After telling the boss my purpose in coming, he very quickly prepares the wooden block and burin, then comprehensively explains some matters I should take note of.

[Trivia] A burin (刻刀 - “ke dao”) is a handheld steel tool used for carving metal or wood

MC: Draw a design first, then trace a copy onto the wooden block, then...

Hearing me mumble to myself, Shaw can’t help but arch his brows.

Shaw: It’s no use simply memorising the steps. You’ve got to get started to get the feel of it.

...that make sense.

Very soon, I successfully draw a design based on the picture. However, I keep sensing that something’s missing when I look at the picture of the string of persimmons in my hand.

Darting a glance at Shaw, who occasionally looks at the drawing paper in my hand, I turn my body to the side, displaying the drawing paper in front of him.

MC: Shaw, didn’t you brag about being the “best in hand-drawn sketches” in your department? Want to take a look and make adjustments for me?

[Note] For those who are unaware, Shaw is the only graduate student in the archaeological department of Loveland University, so... of course he’s the best in everything LOL

Shaw’s brows arch slightly. Grabbing a pen on the table casually, he starts making amendments quickly.

Shaw: Done.

Unexpectedly, with just a few strokes, the fullness and lushness of the persimmons are outlined, and the entire picture instantly becomes much more vibrant.

Once all the preparatory work is done, the next step is to saw the sides of the wood carving. Placing the wooden block on the machine, I test out suitable positions.

All of a sudden, Shaw presses on my hand.

Shaw: Didn’t the boss mention that it’d be safer to place it a little beyond the peripheral line?

While saying this, he pulls on my wrist, causing the wooden block to shift to the side slightly. After verifying that it’s in the right place, he releases my hand.

Wood carving in real life is much more difficult than I imagined. The more I tell myself to be calm, the more my hands refuse to obey.

I take a deep breath -

Shaw: Tch, aren’t you going a little too fast?

Right after he finishes speaking, my hand suddenly trembles, and I saw a small hole into the wooden block.

Shaw pauses for a few seconds, then bursts into laughter mercilessly.

He leans over, pointing at the small hole, his eyes gloating over my misfortune.

Shaw: Heh. Did someone take a bite out of the persimmon? It’s actually pretty creative.

Faced with Shaw’s mockery, I pout without saying anything. Then, I mimic his usual tone and glare at him.

MC: Why are you laughing so loudly? My hearing is good, okay.

Shaw casually props himself on the table with his elbows. He turns his head to the side and watches me, eyes filled with interest and a smile.

Perhaps because we’re too close in proximity, I seem to feel his warmth encasing my surroundings.

Smelling the scent of peppermint at the tip of my nose, I subconsciously turn away, muttering softly.

MC: Stop crowding over here... it’s a little warm.

The corners of Shaw’s eyes lift upwards slightly, and he sweeps a gaze over my face. He chuckles, sitting down on the chair behind in a wilful manner.

Not long after, I painstakingly saw the overall outer shape of the wooden block. After that, I start using a chisel to carefully craft the outline and thickness.

Probably because I’m unfamiliar with the techniques, the thickness of both sides of the wood carving are very different despite me putting in a lot of effort into correcting it.

I steal a glance at Shaw who is behind. After some hesitation, I clear my throat.

MC: Erm, could you help me with a little something?

Shaw loosens his shoulders.

Shaw: You want my help?

MC: Since you look like you don't have much to do, why not adjust the thickness of the outline with me?

Shaw doesn’t respond immediately. He folds his arms and leans against the wall, both legs placed casually.

Beneath the sunlight of the scorching afternoon sun, the corners of his lips tilt upwards, revealing a mischievous smile.

Shaw: Someone made a solemn vow earlier that she could do it by herself. So, in order for you to experience this fully, I refuse.

I don’t even spare Shaw half a glance after this, heart sinking as I lower my head in silence, focusing on the wood carving alone.

Perhaps grasping some tricks, my actions are gradually much more proficient than before, despite slow improvement.

The doors to the shop are suddenly pushed open. A parent walks in with a little boy.

The boss greets the new customers. Shaw suddenly lifts his arm and waves, walking over to the boss.

Shaw: Boss, give me a burin too.

Thinking that Shaw was suddenly “pricked by his conscience” and is planning to help, I lift my head to look at him in anticipation.

Unexpectedly, after getting the burin, Shaw picks up the leftover linden wood that I had sawed off earlier.

He stands near the window, lifting his hand leisurely. Against the light, that head of bluish purple hair is even more eye-catching.

Shaw: It’s boring to wait. I’ll try it with you, and give you some competitive motivation.

He reveals a confident smile, his tone not at all humble.

Shaw: I’ll also show you what it means to be “naturally talented”.

Shaw deliberately sits down at a table that’s further away from me.

Seeing that my gaze continues to linger on him, Shaw lifts his eyes, asking teasingly.

Shaw: Why are you staring at me?

MC: ...you already know the answer. Also, you’re pretending to be mysterious. What exactly do you plan to carve?

Shaw: You want to know? All the more reason not to tell you.

With this, he lowers his head, the tip of the pen making rustling sounds. He’s likely drawing a design on the rough paper.

Pursing my lips with a “hmph”, I decide to throw myself into crafting the wood carving.

Just as I strive to painstakingly carve the appearance of the wood carving, the little boy who accompanied his parent here seems to be restless.

He runs around the shop, and finally scuttles to Shaw’s side.

Little Boy: Big Bro, your hair’s really cool!

Shaw releases a “hmph”, paying no attention to the boy. But the little boy is fearless, and continues curiously.

Little Boy: Big Bro, what are you carving?

Unintentionally hearing this, I hurriedly perk up my ears, turning my body towards Shaw secretly.

Shaw glances at the boy from the side, placing the prototype wood carving on the table and leaning it from side to side.

Shaw: Make a guess.

The boy stares at it for a while, then exclaims excitedly.

Little Boy: I see it now - it’s a fish! Big Bro, did I guess correctly?

Shaw doesn’t deny it, revealing an expression which says “you’re pretty knowledgeable”.

Shaw: [aww he sounds so affectionate] Little Imp, your eyesight isn’t bad.

Little Boy: But why do you want to carve a fish?

The boy doesn’t seem to understand, and is also slightly disdainful.

Little Boy: Fishes are so unimpressive. If it were me, I’d carve a big tiger. It’s the king of all creatures, and it’s so impressive!

While the boy speaks, he chuckles in satisfaction.

Shaw laughs, then purses his lips.

Shaw: A wooden carved fish is much more interesting than your big tiger.

The boy has an expression on his face which reads “nonsense”. Shaw casts a sidelong glance at him, scoffing softly.

Shaw: Forget it. You wouldn't understand even if I told you.

Little Boy: Who says I wouldn’t understand? I’ve already learnt many things!

The boy grumbles in dissatisfaction, his arms akimbo, pestering Shaw unflinchingly.

I try my best to control the smile at the corners of my lips, and suddenly have an idea. Clearing my throat, I pretend to be a bystander, inserting myself into the conversation.

MC: What this little boy said is correct. Young man, you can’t look down on others just because you’re older by a few years.

Little Boy: Hmph! That’s right!

My “encouragement” enables the boy to be even less willing to back down, and he purses his small mouth.

Shaw: Oh?

Hearing my response, Shaw lifts his eyes, a mischievous smile curling the corners of his lips upwards.

Shaw: What is it? You also want to know?

MC: Since you started it, it’s only right for you to talk about it more.

Shaw: Since the both of you are pretty eager to learn, I’ll broaden your knowledge.

Next to the window, the rays of light are bright. Shaw arches his brows wilfully.

Shaw: To put it simply, this is related to the history of “fish culture”. Since ancient times, fish have represented auspicious signs and well-wishes.

Little Boy: I know about this! Is this how people wish each other “may you have abundance year after year”? I heard my teacher mentioning it before. It’s because “鱼” and “��” are homophonic!

[Note] The well-wish the boy is referring to is “年年有鱼”, which is a pun based on the proper saying “年年有余”

“Fish” is 鱼 (“yu”), while 余 (also “yu”) means abundance

Shaw: In that case, your teacher only told you half of it.

Shaw fiddles with the burin in his hand, spinning it casually.

Shaw: Fishes are an embodiment of luck. Patterns of fish can often be seen on antiques.

MC: What’s the origin of wooden carved fishes then?

Shaw pauses for a second before responding.

Shaw: Over seven thousand years ago, the most ancient wooden carved fishes were in the Hemudu culture. Based on conjectures, they were likely used for praying and well-wishes.

[Trivia] The Hemudu culture was a Neolithic culture spanning from 5500 BC to 3300 BC, located south of the Hangzhou Bay in Jiangnan in Zhejiang, China

Shaw speaks indifferently, but the boy listens at the side, his eyes wide.

Little Boy: Big Bro, you really know a lot! You’re even more incredible than my teacher!

The corners of Shaw’s lips hook upwards with pride.

Shaw: I guess so. Little Imp, remember to read more books and learn properly.

The boy runs away contentedly. My gaze lands on the wooden carving in Shaw’s hand that I can’t see quite clearly yet.

I didn’t expect the wooden carved fish to have the same symbolism as the string of persimmons. I tilt my head, feeling slightly emotional.

Time flows by as the seconds and minutes pass. Before realising it, the sky dims, and the studio lights are bright.

Swinging my hands which have almost lost all physical strength, I release a long sigh.

At the other side of the table, Shaw lifts his chin towards me.

Shaw: Progress isn’t going smoothly?

Looking at the half-finished product with uneven contours next to my hand, I shake my head a little despondently.

MC: Looks like I won’t be able to finish it today, and would have to come back next time. Also, the actual wood carving is light-years away from what I expected...

Hearing my soft grumbling at the end, Shaw arches his brows.

Shaw: Just by looking at it, the string of persimmons isn’t easy to make. But you dug this pit yourself, so I’ll wait and watch you fill it up.

Ignoring the teasing tone in his voice, I purse my lips.

MC: I definitely won’t give up. What about you? Are you done with the carving?

Shaw has an expression which reads “of course”, and he nods unhesitatingly.

Shaw: It was done a long time ago.

I’m stunned for a moment, both surprised and curious.

One hand supports Shaw’s cheek lightly. With a stretch of his long arm, the wooden carved fish is brought before my eyes.

This is a bright coloured wood carving of a fish. It has a roundish head and a chubby belly, and looks extremely adorable.

I lift up the wooden fish sculpture with both hands, as though instantly struck by its adorable shape.

Shaw: Excellent workmanship with profound symbolism. Your goal has been overtaken by me.

Behind the table, Shaw arches his brows in satisfaction, casually twisting the burin, his pose utterly flamboyant.

Even though his carving is indeed not bad, the moment I lift my eyes and see Shaw’s insuppressible pride, I can’t help but remain silent.

With the sudden impulse to sing a different tune, I deliberately purse my lips, speaking calmly.

MC: It’s just like this I guess. In terms of exquisiteness, I’d give a passing mark at most.

The smile on Shaw’s lips retracts slightly. While looking at me from the side, he releases a “hmph” from his nose.

Shaw: You have the nerve to criticise me? Why don’t you look at your own standard. Also, this is my exclusive design. It’s much more creative than you making a duplicate from the game.

Hearing the unwillingness to back down hidden in his tone, I can’t help but smile secretly.

Shaw glances at me indifferently. He seems to catch the secret smile on my lips, and an indiscernible light flashes across his eyes.

Shaw: Hey, shouldn’t you return it to me after touching it for half a day? You don’t like it anyway.

MC: Who says-

Almost making a slip of the tongue, I hurriedly change my words.

MC: Actually, on closer inspection, it seems that your carving is pretty okay.

Shaw: Just “okay”?

MC: ...I’ll add one mark for its symbolism and origin then.

Pleased with this, Shaw rolls his shoulders, chuckling softly.

Shaw: You still have some taste.

He crosses his leg over the other, his eyebrows suddenly furrowing. He seems to blurt out what’s in his mind.

Shaw: But the head of this fish seems a little too round... Hm, it’s a little irksome. Looks like I need to make some corrections.

MC: No it isn’t? It looks just right like this!

Afraid that Shaw would snatch it back, I hurriedly fold my hands over the wooden carving, and notice a hint of slyness in his eyes.

He leans closer abruptly, instantly closing the distance between us.

Shaw: Looking at your posture... What is it? Can’t bear to return it?

Specks of bright light reminiscent of daytime dance on Shaw’s bluish purple hair, outlining his expression and making it look even more triumphant.

I blink my eyes.

MC: Since you’re already done, I think I should observe it for a while longer, and have some “luck” rubbed off on me. I might even be able to quickly and successfully finish my wood carving too.

Shaw turns his head, the corners of his lips turning upwards relaxedly. A pondering smile surfaces in his bright eyes.

Shaw: You’ve got taste. If you really like it, it’s not that I can’t give it to you.

My heart stirs, eyes widening as I look at him. But I have the feeling that there should be a second half to his sentence.

Shaw leans back relaxedly, stretching casually.

Shaw: But I need to make up for the costs.

...just as I guessed.

Cradling the wooden carving in my hand, I lift my chin towards Shaw.

MC: Go on, what’s the “fee”?

Shaw lowers his head, pretending to deliberate for a few seconds. Then, he lifts his eyes, meeting mine.

Shaw: When you’re done with your wooden carving...

Shaw: It belongs to me.

[Note] There are actually two ways one can interpret this line because it’s kept purposefully vague. It’s simply “归我”, which means “belong to me”. This means we can’t be sure if he’s asking for the wooden carving or MC herself :>

Shaw: How is it? Isn’t it very fair?

Light falls on the tips of Shaw’s hair, reflecting a bright and sly smile in his eyes.

Before I can react, he has already stood up.

Shaw: All right, that’s how it’d be.

🐟 Phone call: here

🐟 Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc shaw

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alloftheimaginesblog · 3 years

Text

Coffee and a Muffin on a Monday Morning (Indiana Jones x Plus Size History Professor)

Plot: The students have a betting pool on when you're going to get together with Professor Jones, some decide to 'motivate' the two of you.

Character: Indiana Jones x Plus Size Reader

Requested by @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Note: this is part of my Plus Size Reader x Character Series and also, it’s a part of the Plus Size History Professor Reader x Indiana Jones series because Charlotte sent in a bunch of great requests for it and i love Indiana Jones so... :)

It was a well known fact around the college that many of the students thought that you and Professor Jones should be together. It was an amusing thought that so many students, not only in your class but in Indiana’s - Professor Jones’s - thought that you two would be perfect for each other.

It had started months ago when Professor Jones came into your classroom as you were giving a lesson. He had brought you coffee and a muffin, “How did you know?” You asked with a smile.

“It’s Monday, usually you’re running late and miss breakfast.” You could feel the heat on your cheeks as a few of your students began to giggle. You and Indiana were friends - just friends... I mean, sure, he was the most handsome man you’d ever met. He had a charm to him, a charm that you’d never seen before; a charm so strong that he’d be able to make anyone swoon and he knew it. He always wore that stupid cocky grin but he was just so cool with it. Since starting your job as a History Professor at the college last year, you and Indiana immediately clicked and became friends. Course you would, he was an Archaeology Professor and you taught History; match made in heaven! Indiana helped you with all sorts; grading papers, planning lessons... hell, he even drove you home and cooked you dinner when you had a really bad migraine. Maybe there was some truth to the gossip that swirled saying he had feelings for you? No. You wouldn’t let a silly crush ruin your friendship with him, unless he wanted to ruin the friendship for something more.

“Professor?” Someone asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You looked up to see one of your students, “Yes, Sarah?”

“Professor Jones asked that I give this to you.” Sarah smiled, handing you a cup of what looked like coffee and a muffin, “He’s sorry that he couldn’t deliver it to you himself, he got pulled away to a meeting.”

You frowned as you accepted the mug and the muffin, “I wonder why-”

“Have you forgotten?” Another of your students laughed before several said in chorus, “It’s Monday.”

“Oh.” Once more, your cheeks were hot as you realised that your own students knew the script now, “Take a couple of minutes to yourselves.” You took a sip of the coffee trying to make the bitter liquid drown your embarrassment. Your students could see the embarrassment radiating from you.

Sarah decided to speak up, “You know, I think it’s nice.”

“What’s nice?” Your favourite thing about your class was that you and your students felt free to just chat. There weren’t the usual formalities with you and your class like other Professors; you wanted your students to know that they could just come and chat to you and you wouldn’t judge them for it.

“That he brings you coffee and a muffin every Monday.”

“-and that he waits on you at lunchtime so you can sit in his office and talk History together.”

“-don’t forget that he brought in that really old artefact because he knew how much you loved Egyptian history and he got in so much trouble because it shouldn’t have been taken out of where it was kept.”

Your students continued to chime out things that Professor Jones had done for you. Mulling over what they were saying, you gulped the rest of your coffee before standing up and clearing your throat, “Enough chit chat about Professor Jones. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that we’re just friends.” You turned away from your students, grabbing the textbook and fiddling with the pages as a couple of students began to whisper about how to get you and Professor Jones together.

The morning went by quite fast, you’d managed to get the class off the topic of Professor Jones and onto Ancient History. You were in your element when teaching, you knew exactly what you were talking about and could answer almost every question that the students threw at you. If you didn’t know the answer, you and the students would try and figure it out together.

All too soon, the bell was ringing signalling lunch. You’d been too busy erasing the chalkboard that you never realised Sarah swiped the key from your desk. As the class emptied, you could hear them say ‘hi’ to someone waiting outside. You looked to your right and smiled, “Professor Jones.”

Indiana strode into your classroom with a wide smile, “How are you today, (y/n)?” He asked as he sat on one of the students desks.

You opened your mouth to respond when all of a sudden your classroom door swung shut and Sarah turned the key in the door, “What the- Sarah?” You could see the girl through the frosted glass. You walked towards the door, turning the knob but it wouldn’t open, “Sarah, what the- let us out!”

“Oh no, I can’t hear you! I guess you’ll have to stay in there all lunch break with Professor Jones!” Sarah called, you could hear the laughter in her voice before she rushed off, leaving you calling her from the other side of the locked door.

“Damn these stupid door that lock from the outside.” You turned back to look at Indiana who was trying to hold back a laugh, “Guess we’re having lunch in here.”

“Can I ask why your students are locking us in your own classroom?” Indiana asked as you grabbed your bag to get your lunch out of it.

“Sandwich?” You offered him, knowing that his lunch would be in his own classroom. He gladly took the half you offered, “My students are convinced that... oh, it’ll sound silly.”

“They’re convinced we should date?” Indiana smirked as he took a bite of the sandwich.

Your cheeks burned again, “Yes... How did you know?”

“Funnily enough, my students say the same thing... They started a while ago when I brought you-”

“-coffee and a muffin on a Monday,” you smiled, lifting your eyes to meet his, “Mine too. They’re locking us in so that we’ll finally admit defeat and go on a date, I think.”

“Well?” Indiana asked, taking another bite of the sandwich.

“Well, what?”

“I thought I was being too obvious,” Indiana chuckled, “but my students thought you just thought I was being friendly.”

“I’m confused,” you frowned, “What are you trying to say?”

“For months, I’ve been trying to show you that I have true, genuine feelings for you. Why else would I make two cups of coffee and stop off at the café every morning to get you a muffin? Why would I risk losing my job to bring in artefacts to show you specifically? I have feelings for you, (y/n).” Whoa. You stared at Indiana like a fish out of water, eyes wide and mouth moving but no sound coming out. He laughed at your reaction, “You really didn’t know?”

“Are you being serious?” You asked incredulously, “Sarah didn’t put you up to this, did she?”

Indiana held up his hand, “Scout’s honour.” He leaned in closer, so close that you could smell his cologne and see his muscled arms tense underneath that crisp white shirt, “So, what do you say? Let me take you out for dinner tonight. I know it’s Monday and I know that’s when you like to plan lessons but-”

“Yes.”

“-but let me take you - wait, what?” Now it was his turn to be shocked.

You laughed at his reaction, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out since that first Monday morning.” The two of you laughed together before the laugh subsided and you found yourselves staring at one another with stupid grins.

Indiana’s eyes glimpsed to your lips and you found yourself leaning in slowly. Usually, you wouldn’t have been this forward but there was something about him; something about this wonderfully handsome and charming man that you couldn’t help but want to kiss that stupid grin off his face. Your eyes fluttered closed as he was mere centimetres from your face but, of course, the college bell had other plans.

It rang loud and sharp and stopped you and Indiana dead in your tracks. Indiana huffed out a ‘ugh’ while you pulled back, flustered, “Rain check on that,” he laughed as he stood up, brushing any crumbs off of his trousers.

You stood up, smiling, brushing your own trousers off too. To be honest, you felt like you were dreaming. As silly as it sounded, you thought Indiana to be miles out of your league; he was handsome and funny and that smile could’ve melted the Ice Age and you... You thought you were just average but Indiana thought differently. The way he looked at you when you weren’t paying attention was full of awe. He liked the way your glasses slipped down your nose as you read and how you scrunched your nose to keep them falling further before pushing them up with a pointed finger and a huff. He liked the way you dressed, that you didn’t hide your body away; you were curvy, you were a bigger girl and loved it; you had stomach rolls and big hips and wobbly arms and you wore it so well. He loved your smile and the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about something that interested you. Sure, you didn’t know that then but you would soon learn how much he admired you.

You walked with him to the door, “So, dinner tonight, yeah?” You asked him quietly.

Indiana tried to hide his smile, “We’ll go straight from work, I don’t want to waste any more time.”

The lock clicked and the door swung open to reveal Sarah and a few other students. Sarah smiled proudly, key in hand, as she saw the closeness of the two of you, “Oops,” she said innocently.

“I’ll see you later,” Indiana said, throwing a wink in your direction. He leaned in and kissed your cheek softly, “We have to give the kids something they went to the effort of locking us in here!” He teased, breath tickling your cheek, as giggles erupted from behind him. He pulled back and as soon as he did, you missed his lips on your skin, before turning and leaving.

The students grinned at you, “I take it that it went well?” Sarah smiled. You faintly heard someone say ‘you owe me five bucks’.

“I hope you know that you’ll be getting double homework for the next week for that stunt,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest trying your best to look intimidating.

Sarah laughed, “My pleasure!” As the students piled back into your classroom, you found yourself to be awful distracted by that lingering scent of cologne and the lingering sensation of those lips pressing softly against your cheek. Tonight couldn’t come fast enough.

#indiana jones x plus size reader #indiana jones #indiana jones x reader #indiana jones one shot #indiana jones/reader #professor jones #secret's out saga #one shot #os #plus size reader #plus size series #secrets out saga

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tlatollotl · 3 years

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Finding the tomb of an ancient king full of golden artifacts, weapons and elaborate clothing seems like any archaeologist’s fantasy. But searching for them, Gino Caspari can tell you, is incredibly tedious.

Dr. Caspari, a research archaeologist with the Swiss National Science Foundation, studies the ancient Scythians, a nomadic culture whose horse-riding warriors terrorized the plains of Asia 3,000 years ago. The tombs of Scythian royalty contained much of the fabulous wealth they had looted from their neighbors. From the moment the bodies were interred, these tombs were popular targets for robbers; Dr. Caspari estimates that more than 90 percent of them have been destroyed.

He suspects that thousands of tombs are spread across the Eurasian steppes, which extend for millions of square miles. He had spent hours mapping burials using Google Earth images of territory in what is now Russia, Mongolia and Western China’s Xinjiang province. “It’s essentially a stupid task,” Dr. Caspari said. “And that’s not what a well-educated scholar should be doing.”

As it turned out, a neighbor of Dr. Caspari’s in the International House, in the Morningside Heights neighborhood of Manhattan, had a solution. The neighbor, Pablo Crespo, at the time a graduate student in economics at City University of New York who was working with artificial intelligence to estimate volatility in commodity prices, told Dr. Caspari that what he needed was a convolutional neural network to search his satellite images for him. The two bonded over a shared academic philosophy, of making their work openly available for the benefit of the greater scholarly community, and a love of heavy metal music. Over beers in the International House bar, they began a collaboration that put them at the forefront of a new type of archaeological analysis.

A convolutional neural network, or C.N.N., is a type of artificial intelligence that is designed to analyze information that can be processed as a grid; it is especially well suited to analyzing photographs and other images. The network sees an image as a grid of pixels. The C.N.N. that Dr. Crespo designed starts by giving each pixel a rating based on how red it is, then another for green and for blue. After rating each pixel according to a variety of additional parameters, the network begins to analyze small groups of pixels, then successively larger ones, looking for matches or near-matches to the data it has been trained to spot.

Working in their spare time, the two researchers ran 1,212 satellite images through the network for months, asking it to look for circular stone tombs and to overlook other circular, tomblike things such as piles of construction debris and irrigation ponds.

At first they worked with images that spanned roughly 2,000 square miles. They used three-quarters of the imagery to train the network to understand what a Scythian tomb looks like, correcting the system when it missed a known tomb or highlighted a nonexistent one. They used the rest of the imagery to test the system. The network correctly identified known tombs 98 percent of the time.

Creating the network was simple, Dr. Crespo said. He wrote it in less than a month using the programming language Python and at no cost, not including the price of the beers. Dr. Caspari hopes that their creation will give archaeologists a way to find new tombs and to identify important sites so that they can be protected from looters.

Other convolutional neural networks are beginning to automate a variety of repetitive tasks that are usually foisted on to graduate students. And they are opening new windows on to the past. Some of the jobs that these networks are inheriting include classifying pottery fragments, locating shipwrecks in sonar images and finding human bones that are for sale, illegally, on the internet.

“Netflix is using this kind of technique to show you recommendations,” Dr. Crespo, now a senior data scientist for Etsy, said. “Why shouldn’t we use it for something like saving human history?”

Gabriele Gattiglia and Francesca Anichini, both archaeologists at the University of Pisa in Italy, excavate Roman Empire-era sites, which entails analyzing thousands of broken bits of pottery. In Roman culture nearly every type of container, including cooking vessels and the amphoras used for shipping goods around the Mediterranean, was made of clay, so pottery analysis is essential for understanding Roman life.

The task involves comparing pottery sherds to pictures in printed catalogs. Dr. Gattiglia and Dr. Anichini estimate that only 20 percent of their time is spent excavating sites; the rest is spent analyzing pottery, a job for which they are not paid. “We started dreaming about some magic tool to recognize pottery on an excavation,” Dr. Gattiglia said.

That dream became the ArchAIDE project, a digital tool that will allow archaeologists to photograph a piece of pottery in the field and have it identified by convolutional neural networks. The project, which received financing from the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation program, now involves researchers from across Europe, as well as a team of computer scientists from Tel Aviv University in Israel who designed the C.N.N.s.

The project involved digitizing many of the paper catalogs and using them to train a neural network to recognize different types of pottery vessels. A second network was trained to recognize the profiles of pottery sherds. So far, ArchAIDE can identify only a few specific pottery types, but as more researchers add their collections to the database the number of types is expected to grow.

“I dream of a catalog of all types of ceramics,” Dr. Anichini said. “I don’t know if it is possible to complete in this lifetime.”

Saving time is one of the biggest advantages of using convolutional neural networks. In marine archaeology, ship time is expensive, and divers cannot spend too much time underwater without risking serious pressure-related injuries. Chris Clark, an engineer at Harvey Mudd College in Claremont, Calif., is addressing both problems by using an underwater robot to make sonar scans of the seafloor, then using a convolutional neural network to search the images for shipwrecks and other sites. In recent years he has been working with Timmy Gambin, an archaeologist at the University of Malta, to search the floor of the Mediterranean Sea around the island of Malta.

Their system got off to a rough start: On one of its first voyages, they ran their robot into a shipwreck and had to send a diver down to retrieve it. Things improved from there. In 2017, the network identified what turned out to be the wreck of a World War II-era dive bomber off the coast of Malta. Dr. Clark and Dr. Gambin are now working on another site that was identified by the network, but did not want to discuss the details until the research has gone through peer-review.

Shawn Graham, a professor of digital humanities at Carleton University in Ottawa, uses a convolutional neural network called Inception 3.0, designed by Google, to search the internet for images related to the buying and selling of human bones. The United States and many other countries have laws requiring that human bones held in museum collections be returned to their descendants. But there are also bones being held by people who have skirted these laws. Dr. Graham said he had even seen online videos of people digging up graves to feed this market.

“These folks who are being bought and sold never consented to this,” Dr. Graham said. “This does continued violence to the communities from which these ancestors have been removed. As archaeologists, we should be trying to stop this.”

He made some alterations to Inception 3.0 so that it could recognize photographs of human bones. The system had already been trained to recognize objects in millions of photographs, but none of those objects were bones; he has since trained his version on more than 80,000 images of human bones. He is now working with a group called Countering Crime Online, which is using neural networks to track down images related to the illegal ivory trade and sex trafficking.

Dr. Crespo and Dr. Caspari said that the social sciences and humanities could benefit by incorporating the tools of information technology into their work. Their convolutional neural network was easy to use and freely available for anyone to modify to suit their own research needs. In the end, they said, scientific advances come down to two things.

“Innovation really happens at the intersections of established fields,” Dr. Caspari said. Dr. Crespo added: “Have a beer with your neighbor every once in a while.”

#archaeology #artificial intelligence #neural networks

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meltwonu · 4 years

Text

| caffeine | [chapter 8]

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; usage of toys in public, overstimulation, oral(female receiving), anal play, forced orgasms 🥴🥴 we r back everyone! 💕💕 thank you to everyone who’s been so patient since we took a one week break from updates!! 💕💕💕💕 let’s get it!!

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - x - x

Wonwoo gets accepted to go on his archaeology trip next semester which doesn’t surprise you at all but does leave you feeling a little sadder than you anticipated.

And he tells you in the midst of eating you out, hands gripping your thighs as he laps at your clit.

“W--wait, Wonwoo--mmh!”

Your fingers tug on his short hair just as he sucks on your clit; a garbled moan spilling out of your lips as your thighs threaten to clamp shut with his head between them. But he feels you tremble, shooting you a look before he pries your legs open further, holding them still as he continues to eat you out on top of the study table.

“Wuh--wait! So, that m-means you’ll be leaving in like t-two months?” He moans against you, flicking at your clit with the tip of his tongue before he licks his lips clean.

“Yeah, maybe a little bit sooner depending on what prepwork needs to be done.”

“Hmm… ‘m gonna miss you kinda. Maybe just your dick but kinda you too.”

Wonwoo chuckles, adjusting his glasses for a second before he brings his index and middle fingers to his mouth to wet them.

He pops the digits out of his mouth when he deems them wet enough, bringing them to your entrance before he slowly sinks them into you, curling them upward until they tap your g-spot.

“I’m gonna miss your pussy too, sweetheart.”

“Hey, can you put this book down on the third shelf to the right?”

Wonwoo hands you a book to reshelf and you wonder how he even managed to convince you to stick around after he went down on you. Most often than not, it was a quick rendezvous and you or he left. But you think maybe part of you is feeling a little sentimental now that you know he’s going to be gone for a while.

“Right here?”

“Mmhmm.”

The cart of books grows smaller and smaller as the two of you continue to put them away, small idle conversation helping to fill up the otherwise quiet space.

“Any big plans before you leave for, like, three months?” Wonwoo ponders for a second, turning to face you.

“Well, the guys wanted to go to some 21+ beer festival-thing next weekend. You should come with. Maybe you can help me handle them all.” He laughs lightly, a genuine smile plastered on his face when he thinks about the others.

“Are you gonna miss ‘em?” This time Wonwoo scoffs, jokingly rolling his eyes before he walks over to the nearly empty book cart.

“Are you kidding? I’m probably going to have some peace and quiet for the first time in my adult life. I'll be more concerned about having to come back after three months.”

The festival day comes up sooner than you expected; having filled up the time with finishing projects and helping Mingyu not fail his.

You wait in front of the gates, a little uneasy since it was all of SVT House and yourself.

What if someone sees me and thinks I’m the SVT House whore or something, fuck. You panic unnecessarily for a second, wondering if there’s a way for you to escape but you hear Mingyu’s voice calling your name, turning to the side to see the entire group. Too late.

“Hey, ‘Gyu.” You meet him in a hug, Minghao coming soon after until Wonwoo steps in front of you. The others coo at the two of you, jokingly calling you the ‘lovebirds’ before they start walking to the ticketing kiosks, leaving you and Wonwoo alone.

“You know how they are.” “Mm, yeah unfortunately.”

You chuckle, walking with Wonwoo to the ticketing kiosks where he pays for your ticket. “Hey, what the fuck? You never buy us anything!!” The blonde one you’d seen in passing screeches. Soonyoung.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, handing you your ticket which you thank him for. “She’s the only girl here, I’m trying to be a gentleman.” You can’t help but blush at his words, walking with the rest of them through the security check. Mingyu sends you a greasy smirk, just as you quickly flip him off.

All of you get through security with no issues, Seungcheol doing a headcount to make sure everyone’s there before he starts leading the way into the festival grounds. There’s a few amusement park rides thrown in the mix of game booths and alcohol stalls as well and you’re semi-glad it’s a 21+ event only; something was telling you things could get messy.

Wonwoo tugs on your elbow not a second after, curiosity plastered on your face when you turn to face him. “Before we… get started, I have a gift for you.” He smirks, pulling out a small box from his pocket before placing it in the palm of your hands.

You barely open it for a split-second before you quickly put the cover back on, cheeks hot as you stare up at the fox-eyed male. “How the fuck did you get this through security!?” You whisper harshly. He chuckles quietly, pulling the remote from his pocket as he spins the keychain loop around his index finger.

“Dunno, guess sex toys don’t make the sensor go off.”

He tells the others that the two of you were going to head to the restrooms really quick, telling Seungcheol to text him their location while he waits for you.

The blush eats you alive when you slip into a restroom stall, hiking up your dress slightly to pull down your normal panties to replace them with the vibrating panties that Wonwoo had somehow gotten through security. You could already feel yourself getting slightly wet; the thrill of him controlling your orgasms in a public place suddenly extremely hot. And the toy sits directly on your clit, a small shiver running up your spine as you adjust it before gathering your things and leaving. Wonwoo meets you outside, eyebrow quirked as he grins. “Let’s give it a try, hmm?”

The vibrations hit you hard and fast, a choked noise all you can muster in the three seconds he turns it on and off. “Oh, seems like it's working well.”

When the two of you meet up with the rest of the guys, they’re at a game booth trying to win some stuffed animal.

You feel mildly on edge now that you knew Wonwoo could turn the toy on at any second, a cold sweat on your skin as you stand in between Minghao and Wonwoo. “That took you awhile. You guys weren’t… doing anything unsavory were you?” You grit your teeth; Wonwoo having turned on the toy on its lowest level just as Minghao finished asking.

“No? We’re literally here to eat and maybe get a little drunk. Cut me some slack, ‘Hao. When have you ever seen me acting out in public?” Minghao nods slowly at Wonwoo’s words, eyeing you before he clears his throat.

“Ok, I mean… Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

Wonwoo shifts the vibration intensity higher, your legs twitching underneath your dress. You can feel your body tensing up, pussy clenching around nothingness as the toy assaults your clit. “Don’t you have anything to say to defend yourself?” Minghao jokes, jabbing you with his elbow.

“W--what? N-no… I mean, I just, I--I needed to use the restroom. There was a line and y-yeah...” You blabber, hands clenched into fists on your sides. Wonwoo eases up, turning the toy off just as your body slumps forward slightly.

“You okay, though? You seem tired.” Minghao’s voice is filled with worry as he places his hand on your shoulder. “Yeah! I’m good, just slept kinda weird last night so I might seem a ‘lil tired today!” He buys it, thankfully, turning his attention back to the others just as Seungcheol wins the stuffed animal.

“For the sweet lady.”

Seungcheol winks, handing you the small stuffed bear just as Wonwoo sets the vibration to the maximum level, forcing an orgasm out of you in a matter of seconds just as you choke out a small ‘thank you’ towards Seungcheol.

You grit your teeth hard, nails digging into the poor stuffed animal you were gifted. “What’cha gonna name it?” You meet the eyes of Seokmin, a cheery smile on his face. Wonwoo turns the toy off again, a soft chuckle fluttering by.

“I don’t know.”

Thankfully you do manage to have fun; momentarily forgetting about the toy. And Wonwoo seems to forget about it for a bit too, enjoying the drinks as you all stop at stalls to grab different beers to try in between all of your conversations.

One of the younger ones, Seungkwan, suggests getting on one of the rides; queueing up in front of the merry-go-round near-by.

“This is supposed to be, like, a wine and cheese festival but we have beer and children’s rides. Who even came up with this?” Vernon asks, genuinely curious.

“Broke college kids who can’t afford wine and cheese but can afford cheap beer and free rides and need escapism.” Everyone nods sadly at Jeonghan’s words, unfortunately very true.

And much like you expect, the small vibrations come back; Wonwoo having set it on the lowest setting while you all waited in line. “We should go sit and eat for a bit after this. My feet are kinda killing me.” Jun complains, but everyone agrees, deciding to take a little break after the ride to finally eat something.

“Yeah, honestly, I’m full of beer, I need something to eat.” Joshua whines.

Wonwoo turns the vibrations up a level, your thighs rubbing together under your dress as you sneakily shift from one foot to the other. He calls your name loud enough to get the attention of everyone else, their eyes on you as you mentally curse at him.

“What do you feel like eating? We should let you choose.” The others nod, a sly smirk plastered on his features. “Geez hyung, you’re really trying to put on that gentlemanly charm, huh?” Chan teases. You laugh awkwardly, a bead of sweat trickling down your temple as you wipe it away.

Gentleman, my ass.

“I--um, I--I saw a pretzel stall we p-passed by, it se--seems like it’d go well w-with drinks…”

The others agree just as you’re all let onto the merry-go-round, sitting on one of the horses next to Wonwoo. The ride starts soon after; the others laughing and cracking jokes almost immediately as they all sit in front of you. Wonwoo’s eyes glint with mischief when your eyes meet, your hand covering your mouth as you let out a choked cry.

At the angle you’re sitting in, the toy presses harder against your clit and almost like Wonwoo knows that, he sets the toy to the highest level again. And this time, you can’t help but grind against it, thankful that you could mask your movements on the god-forsaken ride. “W-Wonwoo…” You whisper. He barely catches it over the ride’s music, smirking as he only mouths the word ‘cum’ to you.

A shiver runs up your spine when you finally cum this time, toes curling in your sandals as you bite your lip to hold in any noises. You sit up pin straight on your horse, your entire body twitching at your second orgasm. But it doesn’t last long, much like your first one. Wonwoo turns off the toy again, just as the ride starts to come to a stop and you release the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Need some help down, m’lady?” This time it’s Mingyu offering his hand which you shakily take, palm clammy when you place yours in his. “Jesus, are you okay? Why is your palm so sweaty?”

“Yeah, m’fine, I think the beer is getting to me.” He pouts at you, rubbing your back slightly as he ushers your wobbly body off of the ride. “You know what’ll fix that? More beer but also some food, finally.”

You and Mingyu fall into idle conversation; Wonwoo giving you a break that you deserve after forcing two orgasms out of you. And eventually you find the pretzel stall, thankful that there’s empty tables around as you all find a seat.

You sit at a table with Wonwoo by your side, Jihoon and Mingyu sitting on the opposite side.

“We’ll go in pairs or something, so we don’t lose our seats.” You nod at Seungcheol’s suggestion, just thankful you can finally sit and catch your breath. Mingyu and Jihoon get up first, leaving the two of you alone again.

“Having fun, sweetheart?” The tone in Wonwoo’s voice is provoking, your head tilting slightly to look at him and glare. “You’re actually the devil. Gentlemanly, my fucking ass.” You whisper harshly. The stuffed toy in your hands gets squeezed hard again, Wonwoo prying it out from between your iron grip.

“Don’t cuss in front of our child.” He smiles sickly sweet at you, smoothing down the toy’s faux fur before he places it in front of you again.

You’re about to open your mouth to retort but you notice Jihoon coming back, placing food and a cup of beer right in front of you instead. “Hey, uhh, I paid for your food and drink. Hope that’s okay. You seemed tired.” There’s a faint blush on his cheek just as he shyly looks away.

“O-oh. Thank you, Jihoon, that’s really sweet of you…”

“Um, mmhmm, I’m gonna go get my own food, I’ll be back.”

Wonwoo scoffs when Jihoon walks away, plucking the remote from his pocket again. “Isn’t that cute? Everyone’s treating you like a little princess. Doting on you while you cum because of me. So spoiled.”

You blush, choosing to ignore Wonwoo’s words as you focus on eating the food Jihoon had so kindly gotten for you. Eventually the other two come back, leaving Wonwoo to get his own food as he leaves you with them. “Jeez, couldn’t even get me anything, Mingyu?”

“Sorry bro, only one pair of hands!”

The three of you laugh, delving into conversation as the tall male leaves. “Anyway, you guys aren’t dating right?” Mingyu asks. You nod. “We’re not. Why?”

“No reason, just checking in to see if anything’s changed.”

“Since you’re not dating, d’you wanna come to my studio?” You choke on your food, eyes bulging as you stare at Jihoon. “I--what?” He places his food down, taking a sip of his beer before he replies.

“Nothin’ sexual, just could use an outside opinion on some music stuff. We’re all art kids to some degree, y’know? Sometimes I need an outsider’s opinion.”

“But--but what does that have to do with me dating Wonwoo?”

“Nothing really. I just didn’t want to ask just in case he got the wrong idea.” Wonwoo walks back in mid-conversation, setting his things down as he looks at Jihoon. “Wrong idea?”

“I asked her if she’d come to my studio to give me an opinion on music stuff. Nothing major.” Wonwoo glances at you before he takes a sip of his own beer. “Jihoon’s really good at producing. You’d be lucky to hear what he works on. ”

“I’d love to come by whenever!” You smile at Jihoon, hurriedly finishing your food. The other three take their time, discussing various topics just as you see Wonwoo slip his hand towards his pants pocket again. Oh no.

This time he wastes no time, already setting the toy to the middle setting as you try your best to not lurch forward over the table top. Your body is already extremely sensitive from your past orgasms and you find it hard to keep in the noises you so badly want to let out.

“We should go to a few more game booths and then maybe hit up the rides before we leave.” Mingyu says with a mouthful of food. “Mm, yeah, they set up a cool arcade area on the north end of the grounds, we should head over there when the sun goes down.” Wonwoo adds.

You find it incredible that he can sound so normal in this situation and you almost feel jealous. Fucker.

The three continue to chat about the day’s plans just as your orgasm begins to crest quickly, Jihoon’s eyes landing on you when he asks for your opinion. You almost feel bad that you’re cumming while staring Jihoon straight in the eyes but you figure it wasn’t the first time today that had happened anyway.

The wetness between your legs feels horrible when you come down from your high; panties sticking to you like a second skin as you rub your thighs together.

“Yeah, sounds g-good!”

Wonwoo lets up, letting you enjoy the rest of your day in peace for the most part.

The sun eventually goes down and all of you head towards the arcade tent; everyone splitting up to go do their own thing for the time being. You stick with Wonwoo however, walking around quietly and looking at all the arcade cabinets with him.

“Tired yet?”

“Why? Think I can’t keep up with you?” You quip, a little on edge. In truth, you were a little tired. But you also wanted Wonwoo to fuck you already and you weren’t even sure if he’d give in.

“Oh, no, sweetheart. I know you can keep up with me. Just wondering if you were wanting one more orgasm before the night was over.”

Oh.

“Yes.”

You reply before you can even really think, body suddenly on fire at the thought of his hands finally on you. And just like you expect, Wonwoo turns the toy back on, setting it to its lowest level. “Let’s play a game.” He offers, walking you towards one of the zombie shooter games.

“If you win, I’ll fuck you however you want me. If I win, I’ll fuck you however I want you. Deal?” You nod feverishly, not caring about the outcome. If it resulted in him fucking you, there was no real losing. “Okay, sure. Let’s do it.” Wonwoo leaves the toy on as he puts the quarters in the machine, already flying through the intro screen. “I hope you’re ready to lose, sweetheart.”

And lose you do, but you feign disappointment for his sake, setting the fake gun back into its place just as Wonwoo raises the vibration level of the toy. “F--Fuck!” And this time, your voice is drowned out in the crowd of people and arcade noises, small cries and moans spilling from your lips as you lean up against the arcade cabinet. “Pl--please, Wonwoo I can’t w-wait any longer, I don’t care i--if you fuck me here, please!”

Wonwoo laughs, his hand wrapping around your wrist as he drags you out of the arcade tent. “We’ll save that for another time.” He leads you towards the restrooms, although in a much emptier part of the grounds.

“Wait, what if someone… sees us?” He scoffs just as he begins to walk into the restrooms, pulling you in behind him. “Please, this is a 21+ event with booze, I’m sure someone’s fucked in here before we have.” Wonwoo pushes you into one of the stalls, locking it behind him as he fishes for the toy’s remote.

“Let’s get you a little wetter, baby.”

“No~ I’m already so wet, please Wonwoo…” You face one of the restroom walls, pressing your ass against his crotch. His cock is already from what you can feel as you start to grind against him. “Fuck, please, you’re already hard, please just fuck me!” You cry, dropping all of your things to the grimy restroom floor before placing your hands on the wall in front of you.

“I won the game but here you are begging me to do what you want. So so spoiled.” He turns off the toy, placing the remote in his back pocket before he grips the hem of your dress, flipping it up to expose your ass to him.

He helps you slide down your soaked panties, pocketing the material as well before starts undoing his jeans and underwear. “Don’t you want me to eat you out? Get you nice and prepped for my cock?”

“No, fuck, I just want you to fuck me, please! I’m so w-wet I--you could just… slide right in…” The thought alone has you drooling; squirming when you feel the head of his cock sliding through your wet folds.

“What if I wanted to fuck your ‘lil ass, hmm?” You can feel your pussy throb at the prospect. “I--Wonwoo… fuck, I’d let you!” You moan out.

Wonwoo smirks behind you, positioning his cock at your entrance before he slowly eases himself in. “We’ll also save that for another time… But I’ll give you a little taste in a bit.” You groan in response, thanking the heavens when you feel his thick cock inside your pussy. And it takes everything you have to not cum as soon as he bottoms out, cock already prodding at your cervix.

“Ngh, fuck…”

The sound of skin slapping and moans bounce off the restroom walls and you don’t even care if anyone can hear or see what’s going on. But Wonwoo takes his time; slow but hard thrusts that have you whining and clenching hard around him as your body jerks in his hold.

“You were so good for me today. Cumming and not even letting any of them know.” A warm feeling floods your senses at his praise. “And here you are, still taking my cock after you’ve already cum so many times. So good for me, sweetheart.”

You let out a sharp breath when you feel his thumb circling your puckered hole.

“Wonwoo... p-please...” You meet his thrusts, fucking yourself on his cock as he lets a glob of spit land on your hole, his thumb using it as lubrication before he slowly eases in the digit.

“Oh g-god, I--fuck, please, please, please!” You mumble, feeling even more full than you ever were.

“Hah, you’re so cute. Next time we’ll have to use some new toys, hmm? Get all you nice and filled up.”

“Fuck, yes!”

Wonwoo fucks you faster, keeping his thumb in your ass as he chases his orgasm. Your body jolts in his hold, already feeling your own orgasm starting to build as well. “Won--Wonwoo ‘m close already...” You mumble, sensitive body already beginning to slump against the dirty wall.

“Cum with me then, sweetheart.”

You nod shakily, pussy getting tighter around his cock as you feel yourself tipping over the edge. And Wonwoo follows suit, groaning when he cums inside of your pussy, fucking his cum deeper into you as your walls flutter around his cock when you cum with him.

“Fuck, Wonwoo!”

You feel yourself drooling as you cum, eyes clenched shut as the pleasure washes over you. Your orgasm seems to last longer than your previous ones despite how exhausted you feel afterwards, but you’re sure it’s because of Wonwoo and not because of some toy.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?”

“H--Huh?” You head feels muddled as you turn your head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of him.

“I’ve been asking you if you were ok for the past minute. You zoned out.”

“Oh... m’okay... tired...” You whisper out, oversensitivity setting in when he slides his cock from your swollen pussy.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and then I’ll get you some water, okay?”

You can barely stand up straight when you try to exit the restroom stall, Wonwoo offering to piggy-back you back to the arcade tent where everyone else is waiting.

He keeps the vibrating panties but lets you put you regular panties back on.

“I was smart to put ‘em in my bag...” You tell him sleepily, nuzzling into his neck as he carries you.

“You’re lucky you did or else I’d have to put the other one back on.” He grins, re-adjusting you on his back as he sees the others standing in front of the arcade tent.

“Okay, see, now I know you two were up to no good.” Minghao tuts, arms crossed as he looks over your tired form. “God, and here we thought you were one of the good ones, hyung.” Chan adds, dramatically shaking his head as they start walking towards the amusement park rides.

“You might’ve gotten whatever sick thrills you wanted but we still wanna go on the rides so you’re gonna have to come with us now!” Soonyoung screams before running ahead, Wonwoo turning with you still on his back.

“You gonna be okay? Or do you wanna ditch them?” You tighten your grip around his neck, sleepy eyes watching as the others chase Soonyoung.

“I’ll be okay, let’s catch up with them before they lose Soonyoung.”

#fratboy!wonwoo #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios

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kyidyl · 3 years

Text

Kyidyl Explains Bones - Part 6

(All of these are under the KyidylBones tag.)

Age Determination

Well, age at death anyway. I’m gonna put this warning up front:

Today’s post will contain pictures of the skeletons of children. This is something that a lot of people, even those who think they won’t be bothered, find upsetting. This goes double if you actually have children. This post will also include frank discussion of child death.

You have been warned.

So what is age determination? Age determination isn’t the process of figuring out how old a set of remains is, it’s the process of figuring out how old the individual was when they died. Because of the sensitive nature of the topic, I’m putting everything behind a cut today.

Ethics: Beyond the normal respectful approach, there aren’t separate ethical considerations with dealing with age like there are for sex and race. Just be considerate of the fact that child death is super upsetting to some people. I literally had people in my classes at the masters level who were moved to tears by some of the younger remains, so even when you’re used to looking at things from a clinical perspective, kids can be tough.

General: Age is separated into three general categories: juvenile (0-early 20s), adult, and elderly. Juveniles are from birth until the last known skeletal change takes place. IE, until all your teeth come in and all your bones fuse. These are really good indicators of age, so we use them as much as we can for as long into the lifespan as we can. Adults range from “done growing” to “showing signs of degeneration” EG, arthritis and that kind of thing. Elderly is anything older than that.

Also, this applies to all age categories: size is not an indicator of age. Ever.

Juveniles: We say juveniles instead of children because people in their late teens and early 20s aren’t really children, but they haven’t finished growing yet. So juvenile is a more inclusive term, and the more accurate one. That said, kids are by FAR the easiest to know the age of. Juvenile remains do not look like small adult remains, because juveniles that have skeletons that do not resemble adult skeletons beyond the basic “ah, that’s probably a human”.

There are a few ways that we determine the age of a juvenile, and the first thing we check is the teeth. Before the body, before any other signs. Because the teeth are consistently accurate across race, sex, economic standing, any pathologies, etc. Teeth are formed and come in on a schedule. Here is that schedule:

And here is a link to a high res PDF version that you absolutely should take a look at (Source).

Beyond this, the 3rd molar AKA wisdom teeth come in between ages 17-25. Now, archaeological remains won’t have scars on the bone from the wisdom teeth removal that a lot of people commonly undergo, but in the future that will be visible on the bone. I’ll get into this more when I get around to doing the damage and pathology posts, but healed bone has a different appearance than unbroken bone, so a healed-over tooth socket has a different appearance than bone that never had a tooth there to begin with. In addition, while tooth eruption in a living juvenile is accepted as the time when the tooth breaks through the gums, in the remains of a juvenile we can see un-erupted teeth within the jaw. It looks like this:

(Source)

As an aside: those lines on the teeth are called enamel hypoplasia, and I’ll cover it more in the teeth post, but essentially if you don’t get proper nutrition as a child when your adult teeth are developing in your jaw you get these lines in them.

So anyway, because teeth come in on such a precise schedule, and because teeth survive better than anything else in your body (especially in a child’s body. Childrens’ bones are fragile, partially ossified, and they decay quickly.), they’re very good for estimating age at death. Even more so than bones, because bones can be altered by illness, malnutrition, repetitive activity, or genetic anomalies. Teeth almost never are. Or, rather, their rate of growth isn’t.

Another thing we look for when determining age at death is the fusion of the bones. See, as you’re growing you have more bones. Those get larger until they meet up with the bone they’re part of, and then they start to fuse. These are called epiphysis (growth plates). Very young children don’t even have entirely ossified (bone instead of cartilage) bones, let along epiphysis that touch. Babies don’t show up often in the archaeological record because of this. To better illustrate this, here is an image of an xray of a baby’s hand:

(Source)

You’ll notice that the finger bones (Metacarpals and carpels, known collectively as phalanges.) have small little bones at the ends that aren’t attached - that’s not an anomaly, that’s normal. Those are the physis, which will fuse later in life after they are larger, and the plate between them from which they grow is the epiphysis. You can also see that the wrist bones have barely begun to ossify and don’t show up on the xray, and the physis for the radius and ulna (arm bones) also haven’t begin to ossify and thus don’t show up - that’s why the arm bones look like one bone. They aren’t, they have an epiphysis at either end (Your elbow is a separate bone called the olecranon and it doesn’t fuse until later on.). This happens at a very predictable rate, and so we can tell how old someone is from a combination of their teeth and which bones have and have not ossified and fused. In addition, the bone of the epiphysis has a unique texture that is referred to as “billowy” in the literature (even tho I hate that word). Here’s a picture:

(Source)

The one on the left is what you want to look at, since this is a progression through age. Also I sniped this from a paper on age estimation, so if you’re interested in this take a look at it. It’s on researchgate so it’s not behind a paywall. As an aside: researchgate is amazing and you should all learn to use it.

Anyway, see that bumpy texture on the left? That’s what unfused bone looks like at the growth plate. This actually applies to, as far as I know, all land mammals. So if you find animal bones with this texture at the end of the bone, then that animal was a juvenile when it died. Bones fuse at different times in your life, but we know the times when they fuse. There are 206 bones in the adult body, so that would be a lot for me to try and put in a tumblr post, but if you google a specific bone you should be able to find the ages they fuse. I believe, if memory serves, that the skull sutures are the last to fully fuse, and they in fact continue to become more tightly fused as your life goes on. I’ll cover that in the next section tho. It will hold together as a teenager, but the skull bones take a long time to fuse to each other. Two of the last epiphysis to fuse though are the iliac crest (The curved part of the hip - it’s actually its own separate bone. Like just the small, smooth curved part.) and the sternal end of the clavicle (clavicle = collarbone, and the sternal end is the medial part towards the sternum.). This happens in your early to mid 20s.

So teeth and bone fusion are the two most used methods of age estimation. So if anyone ever shows you a small skeleton with fused bones and calls it a child, roll your eyes at them. It’s not a child.

One last note on juvenile skeletons: until the individual undergoes puberty, sex and race determinations are extremely difficult (teeth can be used for race, but not for sex. Not really, anyway.). So again, anyone who professes to know the sex of a set of pre-pubescent remains without like...a gravestone or something telling them is probably a liar. Right now the methods for doing that are either expensive (genetics) or inaccurate. And doing genetic evaluations on old juvenile remains is difficult, because their bones are more fragile than adult bones and break down easier, which exposes the DNA to easy degradation. It’s not impossible, it’s just usually more difficult and more expensive.

For reference, here is a juvenile skeleton laid out in standard anatomical position. There is more than one individual here, so ignore any of the bones outside the arms and above the head.

(Source)

Adults and the Elderly: After an individual finishes growing, estimating their age becomes increasingly difficult. There’s no such thing as, for example, an average number of tooth cavities. In addition, the natural growth and destruction of your bone cells over your lifetime means that things you do habitually can significantly alter the shape of your bones and the rate at which they break down.

However, there are a few things that can be used. Joints wear down at a fairly consistent rate, and arthritis leaves specific markers on the bones that we can identify as arthritis rather than normal wear and tear. This is most easily views in two places: the public symphasis (the front where your two hip bones meet.) and the acetabulum (The socket that the round end of your thigh bone is in.). The picture I used above is an image of the wear and tear seen on a series of pubic symphysises (symphysii? IDK.). And so these are matched against skeletons whose age at death was known and age ranges for changes to this area were arrived at.

When I was doing my MSc, we did a project where we were assigned a set of remains and had to use everything we’d learned in the course to do a full evaluation of our skeletons. Well, the majority of my skull was missing and so I used the acetabulum to do age estimation on the skeleton (I had some teeth, but not most of the ones that are diagnostic of age, which I’ll cover in a sec.). This is an image from and a link to one of the papers I used:

(Source)

Two things happen here as you age. One, the edges of the socket become damaged and it starts to change the anatomy (F is oldest). Two, that space in the middle is called the acetabular fossa, or the acetabular notch. And as you can see, the shape of it changes over time due to normal wear and tear. In combination with resources like the one I linked, we can use this to estimate the age of an adult or elderly individual.

Another tool we use has to do with the fusion of your growth plates. After the bones fuse, the line is still visible. Throughout your life the remodeling (normal breakdown/growth of bones and healing from damage.) causes the sutures to be come less and less visible. We call this obliteration. In the elderly, most of their sutures and growth plates will be completely obliterated. For example, the femur is in four pieces as a child. The main body of the femur, the head of the femur, the greater trochanter (The big bump on the top outside. This is like...the part that’s wides below your hips where your thigh meets your pelvis, but on the outside.), and the condyles (the rounded pieces on the far end.). The greater trochanter fuses and obliterates pretty early on, but the head and the condyles are pretty easy to see even in adults. Here’s an example showing the femoral head:

(Source)

As you can see, the trochanter has fused and is obliterated, but the head has fused and you can still see the line from the growth plate. The sutures in the skull are especially good for this, as cranial sutures take the majority of the lifespan to obliterate (sometimes they never fully do.). If you see a smooth skull, that person was ooooold.

The last easily accessible way we assess age at death is via tooth wear. Now, this won’t work in modern skeletons, which is why there’s a lot of research surrounding the evaluation of age at death. We’re well aware that after humans entered roughly the industrial age, our foods became soft and teeth no longer wear like they should, and after that point in time it’s not possible to use the standardized methods of tooth wear to evaluate age. Well, I should rephrase, it won’t be possible in westernized and industrialized societies. Cultures in Africa and South America that still practice pastoral or hunter/gatherer lifestyles will likely still have expected tooth wear. Anyone who lives in a society that has and uses grocery stores or doesn’t use two rocks to mill flour (Do not underestimate how much bread people ate.), is not going to have expected tooth wear (so it’s not about rural vs city.).

See, it’s normal and natural for teeth to wear. It’s normal and natural for the yellowish substance below the enamel, called dentin, to show. Dentin is almost as hard as enamel, and it actually regrows. We evolved to have tooth wear both on the surfaces and between the teeth. Humans used to eat much tougher foods, and even when we weren’t, our foods had a lot of grit in them (IE, tiny pieces of stone from milling flour. I have a whole ass theory about the role of dirt in the evolution of teeth for all animals but that’s neither here nor there.) and wore our teeth down. Wear isn’t a sign of bad dental hygiene, it’s a sign of a tougher diet. After the industrial age we started using different methods to produce food and started eating softer food overall, so we stopped putting the stresses on our jaws required for both proper tooth wear and the proper growth of our teeth (AKA: wisdom tooth impaction.). So normally worn teeth look like this:

(Source for both images)

If you’ll notice in that top image the lines where the teeth meet fit exactly together. This is because of tooth wear. Interestingly you’ll also notice in the bottom image that this individual’s teeth are unevenly worn, meaning they chewed on the right side of their mouth. This is actually something we see all the time because of both handedness, and insult to the teeth on one side of the aw (AKA it was painful cause they had cavities.). This individual was likely a young adult given that they don’t have a lot of tooth wear to begin with, but they were preferentially using one side of their mouth to chew and so it is more worn than it would be for someone who wasn’t doing that. Here is the chart we use to grade tooth wear and age on adult teeth:

(Source)

That link has a larger version of the chart and more images.

So the fact that I’m 40 and still can feel all the cusps on all of my molars is an anomaly compared to previous humans. Soft foods. So if you compare the above image of the jaw with the chart, you’ll see that the individuals in both pictures have wear in the 25-35yrs old age rage, or what we would consider to be a young adult. And before you start talking about average age of humans back in the day, don’t forget that the average includes a lot of dead children. Once you made it to adulthood you lived a decent amount of time.

So those of you who are older than your 30s or so might not remember this, but when your adult incisors come in they had small ridges on the edges. It was easier to tell on your top teeth (maxillary incisors) than your bottom ones (mandibular incisors.), but it’s present on both. These bad boys:

(Source)

That is obviously a living human, but I’m showing you because they wear quickly. They do, however, wear at a prescribed pace so if a set of remains has them they were young. Sometimes they’re gone before you’re even an adult, but I figured I’d mention them because they are another kind of tooth wear.

Disease: The last thing that helps in age determination are age-based diseases. Namely, osteoarthritis and osteoporosis. There are circumstances wherein someone younger can have both of those pathologies, but that’s why we have all of the other things. So if we see signs of arthritis in a younger person, we’ll have the other signs to help us realize that they aren’t an elderly individual.

Osteoarthritis is, essentially, a thinning of the cartilage, fluid, and other soft tissues in the joints, causing the bones to rub against each other instead of sliding nicely on the cartilage. Now, a certain amount of thinning is expected with age - obviously, as arthritis in the elderly is extremely common even now. But osteoarthritis is an escalation of the normal wear and tear into a pathology. Osteoarthritis damages the joints, and so bone attempts to regrow, so you see a lot of abnormal outgrowths of bone that fit tightly together because they were rubbing against each other. You also see, in extreme cases, striations on the bones where they were grinding together. Like this:

(Source)

This is a knee joint, viewed from the posterior side. You can see on the bottom condyle and the opposing articular surface that there are lines. Those lines are from the bones grinding. You also can see, especially on the tibia, all those little funky looking bone bits. All that roughness sticking out around end, below the flat surface. Some roughness there is normal, but that’s rougher than it should be and that’s the result of osteoarthritis.

The other disease common in the elderly is osteoporosis. Osteoporosis is an illness that causes compact/cortical (the thicker hard bone around the spingy bone to thin and become porous (hence the name.). I’ve held bone with extremely advanced osteoporosis and they are about half the weight of normal bones. So that’s the first sign. The next sign is that they’ll be damaged, both from the natural processes of time and from subsequent handling, because they’re farm more fragile than health adult bone. The vertebra also take on a “squished” appearance due to the forces of gravity and the remodeling during the life of the individual. You also will often see poorly healed breaks (I’ll show you more of this later in this series when I get to pathologies.).

So that brings us to the end of the bit about age determination. Hope you guys are enjoying this series. :) I think next up is gonna be teeth! =D

#science #KyidylBones #archaeology #forensic #forensic anthropology #skeleton #age #human skeleton #human remains #educational #infodump #bones #human bones

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celestialmazer · 3 years

Text

Julie Mehretu, Hineni (E. 3:4), 2018. Centre Pompidou, Paris, Musée national d’art moderne/Centre de création industrielle; gift of George Economou, 2019. © Julie Mehretu. Photography:Tom Powel Imaging

Julie Mehretu, Mind-Wind Field Drawings (quarantine studio, d.h.) #1, 2019-2020. Private collection, courtesy Marian Goodman Gallery New York/Paris. © Julie Mehretu. Photography courtesy Marian Goodman Gallery

Julie Mehretu, Mogamma (A Painting in Four Parts) Part 1, 2012. Guggenheim Abu Dhabi. © Julie Mehretu. Photography: White Cube, Ben Westoby

Julie Mehretu, Conjured Parts (eye), Ferguson, 2016. The Broad Art Foundation, Los Angeles. © Julie Mehretu. Photography: Cathy Carver

Julie Mehretu, Migration Direction Map (large), 1996. Private collection. © Julie Mehretu. Photography: Tom Powel Imaging

At home with artist Julie Mehretu

CAMILLE OKHIO - 25 MAR 2021

Julie Mehretu speaks with the joy and conviction of someone who has had the freedom to investigate all their interests. Curiosity has led her to the myriad topics, objects and moments that inform her work, among them cartography, archaeology, the birth of civilisation and mycology. Since the 1990s, her practice has expanded outwardly in all directions like a spider web. A lack of understanding and preconceived notions among reviewers have often led to her work being flattened – simplified so that it is easily digestible – but in reality, her work is far from a simplistic investigation of any one topic. It encompasses multitudes.

The artist’s recent paintings are mostly large scale, but her early works on paper (often created with multiple layers – one sheet of Mylar on top of another) are as small as a six-inch square. The works often comprise innumerable minuscule markings – tremendous force and knowledge communicated through delicate inkings and streaks. Their layers reveal, rather than obfuscate. And though Mehretu’s creative process springs from a desire to understand herself better, the work itself is in no way autobiographical.

Born in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, on the tails of a continental rejection of colonialism, and raised there, then in Michigan, Mehretu has a flexible and full-hearted understanding of home. It is not one physical place, but many, all holding equal importance. On 25 March, Mehretu will present her first major retrospective at the Whitney Museum of American Art, with works spanning 1996 to 2019. The institution is an important one for Mehretu, as it played host to several pivotal shows in her youth.

Her exhibition has served as an impetus for Mehretu to look back at her already prolific career, observing and organising the thoughts, questions and answers she has put forth for over two decades. The six years it took to bring this exhibition together proved an incredibly valuable time of reflection, fatefully dovetailing with a year of quarantine.

Wallpaper*: Where are you as we speak?

Julie Mehretu: I’m in my studio on 26th Street, right on the West Side Highway. I’ve worked here for 11 years.

W*: Are there any artists, writers or thinkers that have had a meaningful impact on you?

JM: I don’t know how to answer that because there are literally so many! It’s constantly changing. Right now, Kara Walker, David Hammons, William Pope.L, and younger artists like Jason Moran (who has made amazing work around abstraction). There are so many artists that have been informative and important to me: Frank Bowling, Jack Whitten, Caravaggio.

I also look at a lot of prehistoric work, from as far back as 60,000 years ago, as well as cave paintings from 6th century China and early prehistoric drawings in the caves of Australia.

W*: What’s the most interesting thing you have read, watched or listened to recently?

JM: For the last few weeks I’ve been immersed in Steve McQueen films. I’ve been bingeing on lovers rock music. And a TV show that really moved me was [Michaela Cole’s] I May Destroy You. It’s difficult, but it was really well done and powerful.

Ocean Vuong’s novel On Earth We Are Briefly Gorgeous is amazing. The Mushroom at the End of the World by Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing is a really incredible book too – she studies this mushroom that became a delicacy in Japan in the 7th century. It started growing in deforested areas – it’s in these places destroyed by human beings that these mushrooms survive. [I find it interesting] that this mushroom grows on the edge of precarity and destruction. Like with Black folks, there is a constant aspect of insisting on yourself and reinventing yourself in the midst of constant effort of destruction.

W*: What was the first piece of art you remember seeing? How did you feel about it?

JM: One of the first times I remember being moved by a work of art was looking through my mother’s Rembrandt book. We brought so few things back from Ethiopia and that was one of them. [Particularly] Rembrandt’s The Sacrifice of Isaac. That story is so intense. I was so moved by the light and the skin and the way the paint made light and skin.

W*: Do you travel? If so, what does travel afford you, and what have you missed about it during Covid-19?

JM: I travel a lot, but I haven’t travelled this year. There has been this amazing sense of suspension and a pause in that. I miss travelling, but going to look at art, watching films, reading novels and listening to music is the way I travel now. For instance, I’ve been listening to Afro-Peruvian music and now I want to go to Peru.

Before I know it we will be back in this fast-paced, zooming-around environment – there is something I want to savour by staying here, now, in this time and absorbing as much as I can.

W*: You are said to have a vast collection of objects and images. Walk me through your collection – what areas, materials, makers and things have the largest presence and why?

JM: When you enter our home there is this long hallway. Framed along the wall we have around 20 fluorescent Daniel Joseph Martinez block-printed posters he made with words – almost poems. Our kids grew up reading those. One says ‘Sometimes I can’t breathe’ and another one says ‘Don’t work’, while some are really long.

We also have a great Paul Pfeiffer photograph of one from the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse series. We have a group of Richard Tuttle etchings right over our dining table. We have an amazing David Hammons body print as well, and my kids’ work is all over the house.

W*: As the daughter of immigrants and an immigrant yourself – how do you conceptualise home and how do you create it?

JM: There were a lot of times I felt very transient – as a student and a young adult, going in and out of school and residency programmes. It always came back to music and food. There are certain flavours, foods, music, smells that you take wherever you go. Also as a mother, I’m building a home for my children. Home becomes something else because of them. They are the core of home now.

W* How has motherhood affected your practice?

JM: I became much more productive when I had kids for several reasons – one is that I felt a lot of pressure to make [work] in the time I wasn’t with them, which of course is unsustainable. A large part of making is not making – thinking and searching.

When I got to work I could get into it much more quickly. Kids grow and change so fast, you feel time is passing so you need to use it. I wasn’t going to stop working, that’s for sure. All women who are pushing in their lives make that choice.

W*: What is your favourite myth and why does it hold importance for you?

JM: Right now I’m reading Greek myths to my ten-year-old. We’ve read them before, but he wanted to read them again. I still read to him at night even though he’s a voracious reader himself.

The myths I remember the most are myths I’ve come across in visual works. Titian’s Diana and Actaeon – I know that myth so well because of his painting. Bernini’s mesmerising sculpture of Apollo and Daphne I saw in Rome, where her body becomes a tree. The leaves are so delicately carved into the marble, it’s a work of incredible beauty. I’ve been considering this deconstructionist approach to mythology. Storytelling becomes this place to interrogate propositions, which is what I think mythology does.

W*: Have you experienced a flattening of your work?

JM: I’m always concerned with flattening and pigeonholing. That is something that happens to artists like us all the time. When I first was working and showing there was a bit of that happening with my work. It was put into the space of cartography or an architectural analysis of it. It was said to be autobiographical work.

The art world tries to consume. There is this desire to flatten and the desire for Black artists to be a reflection of their experience. I don’t think any artist is like that at all. In reality, none of us are flat. We all contain multitudes and are complicated – that has always been the core of the Black radical tradition.

#julie mehretu #art #abstract art #abstract #mark making #history #geography #nature

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angryschnauzer · 4 years

Text

Superior Specimen - Chapter 7

Summary: One night when you are following the Archaeology tag on instagram you stumbled across a fun looking dig… and an even more interesting Paleontologist who soon follows you back. Over the following weeks you start chatting and a friendship soon grows.

Relationship: AU Henry Cavill x Female Reader (No race or body shape mentioned)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Warnings: Slow Burn, NSFW, 18+, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Drunken Piggy Back Rides, Oral Sex (Female Recieving), Drama, Theft, Amateur Heroics, Hospital Visit, Shower Sex, Oral Sex (Male Receiving), Blow Job, Fingering, Lavish lifestyle, Henry is loaded, The Shard, Expensive Gifts, Sixty nine, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Angst, Argument, Jealousy,

I do not operate a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, as you will then be notified whenever i post something new.

I don’t have a masterlist, but all my works are on AO3, link here. Usually i post oneshots to Tumblr and AO3, and multichapters exclusively to AO3, but as this is my first henry story and its going to be a short series, i’ll post to both places.

Chapter 7

When you emerged from the bathroom Henry was just coming out of the kitchen area, two bottles of water in hand before he opened one and handed it to you;

“Drink”

“Thank you” you took it from him and lifted it to your mouth, not realising how dry your throat had grown from all the exertion. As you drank in silence you couldn’t help but to let your eyes stray over his exquisite body, from his broad chest to his narrow waist, to his thick cock hanging heavy between his enormous thighs. You hadn’t realised how long - and obviously - you’d been staring, but when he held his arms out and span slowly around with a smirk on his face you realised it hadn’t been in the tiniest bit subtle;

“Like what you see Princess?”

Stepping forwards you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest as you smiled at him;

“You know I do”

With a sly grin you pressed the cold-water bottle to his naked ass and he let out a high-pitched squeal and leapt forwards, knocking you to your ass onto the soft plush carpet. Propping yourself up on your elbows you grinned at him as he towered over you, a look of dark amusement on his face;

“Oh, you are in for it now Princess”

You let out a squeal as he suddenly swooped down and threw you over his shoulder before stalking back to the bed and tossing you onto the king-size mattress. You squealed and laughed as he was suddenly upon you, tickling your sides in a relentless fashion as you writhed and wriggled beneath him. With your legs entangled you were soon rolling around, skin sliding against skin and you could feel him getting hard against your belly. In a moment of weakness you were able to twist your body enough so that suddenly you were on top, straddling his waist. You caught his hands in yours and intertwined your fingers together, your chests heaving from exertion and laughter.

You leant forwards and pressed a kiss to his lips, and that’s when you felt it. You weren’t sure if henry knew what you were about to do, but as you knelt back upright and rolled your hips just right, you slowly sank down onto his hard length that had notched just right at your entrance when you’d kissed him. His eyes went wide in surprise, his jaw hung open before the feeling of your hot soaked walls completely enveloping him was too much to process and his eyes fluttered shut;

“Oh… oh-hoh… fuck…”

His lip trembled as you slowly rolled your hips, arching your spine before straightening. With your fingers still linked you moved, riding him slowly, spelling out letters and words with your hips to rub him just the right way to make him go crazy. Out of all the times he had known how to work your body and drive you to an intense orgasm, now it was your turn. With a roll and curve of your hips you felt his fingers tighten against yours, his mouth moving but unable to get out the words he wanted to say, before finally finding his voice;

“Hu-holy… fuck... Princess, I-if you keep going I’m gonna cum”

“That’s the plan…”

“But you…”

“Shhh… don’t you worry about me Hen, just enjoy it”

His body relaxed when he realised what you wanted to do, that you weren’t concerned about your own orgasm, and instead wanted to drive him completely crazy. With a swirl of your hips you started to spell out certain letters with your hips. You closed your eyes and concentrated on spelling and with each letter Henry’s moans and cries got more heated. On the second to last letter he let out a high pitched whine and his hands flew to your hips, the tell-tale tremble where your bodies were joined, and as you swayed your hips from right to left to right to left it was the trigger and his back arched, pumping you full of another load of his thick seed.

He wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and pulled you down to his lips, kissing you before you settled onto his chest, your head resting on his shoulder as you held him in the afterglow of his orgasm. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper;

“Thank you”

“Umm, you’re welcome?”

“No, really, thank you. It’s been a long time since a lover has solely given me pleasure without expecting it in return… which I absolutely will do, but…”

In that moment you felt for him, you knew that he knew he was a skilled lover, but when you have a skill sometimes people can take it for granted. You went to speak but in that moment your stomach rumbled, and you giggled as he ran a hand softly over your back;

“You are feeling hungry again Princess?”

“We did work up quite an appetite… do you think it’s too late for room service?” you propped yourself up and smiled at him.

“Go check out the fridge… I would move but you’ve rendered me useless for the next few minutes with that pussy from heaven…”

You delicately shifted off him, feeling his now soft member slip out of you, and you stood on wobbly legs, walking bow legged to the kitchen as you felt Henry’s cum slowly coating your inner thighs. Bending to look into the fridge you let out a squeal when you saw the large plate decorated with miniatures of all the restaurants famous desserts.

“Bring two spoons!” you heard Henry call from the bed and you smiled as you did as he asked, carrying the plate in one hand and the cutlery in another as you made your way through the room lit by a single lamp at the side of the bed that he’d switched on and settled the plate on the bed beside Henry as he sat propped up against the plush pillows. You handed him a spoon and grinned;

“Okay so we’re not going to just eat these off each other’s bodies?”

“Uh-huh… you see this one?” he swiped his spoon halfway through what looked like a chocolate cheesecake; “This one has cocoa nibs in… they get caught in my chest hair”

He lifted the spoon to your lips and you moaned as the rich Ecuadorian cocoa hit your taste buds, before grinning and talking with your mouth full;

“So, you’ve done the body cheesecake eating thing with someone else?” you cocked an eyebrow, before your eyes went a little wider when you saw him start to blush and you stopped chewing.

“Not exactly…” he took a deep breath and smiled sheepishly; “I was staying here last year - my Air B&B wasn’t ready - and I ordered room service. I had fucked up my shoulder on a dig so couldn’t be bothered to wear a shirt… and proceeded to drop an enormous spoonful of cheesecake on my chest”

You let out a burst of laughter, struggling to keep the chocolatey mess in your mouth as he continued;

“So not only was it super cold, it got caught in all the hairs… and my dominant arm was fucked up so when I went to pick it out I missed the plate with the crumby base and dropped it on the floor… then proceeded to step on it and leave a trail of brown stains across this carpet to the bathroom that looked like I’d trodden shit around the suite”

Your eyes watered from trying hard not to laugh and spray cheesecake over him, but the thought of him having to speak to the concierge about another ‘its-not-shit-its-cheesecake’ incident was too much… thankfully Henry could see your predicament, quickly reaching to the plate to grab a paper napkin that had been set on it and handing it to you so you could spit the cheesecake out.

The pair of you picked at the desserts, feeding each other, talking and laughing, before you stifled a yawn;

“I need some sleep… you’ve worn me out”

“Let me get rid of this” Henry grabbed the empty plate and started towards the kitchen area; “And then I’ll see about sorting you out Princess”

Standing you smiled as you headed towards the bathroom, your body and mind in that pleasant glow of pre-sleep, absentmindedly calling out to him;

“I love you to pieces Henry but you are not coming near this pussy again tonight, she needs time to recover… I’m gonna pee then fall asleep in your arms in that massive bed”

With your back turned you weren’t aware of Henry’s reaction to your words, how he’d picked up on your casual use of Love, and that he knew it came from the heart.

By the time you returned to the bedroom Henry had lowered the blinds and was laying in bed, the covers to his waist as you climbed in beside him, curling up to his wide chest as he wrapped an arm around you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You were asleep within minutes; however Henry was wide awake, his mind racing, processing something that had never been said to him before.

You woke to find Henry’s arm draped over your waist, his chest to your back as the cracks of daylight peeked in through the miniscule gaps in the blinds that covered the windows. You shifted a little and he rolled silently onto his back, the sheets draped over his lower body and you could tell he was sound asleep. Sitting on the side of the bed you reached for the water bottle only to find it empty, and with a longing glance at sleeping beauty you pushed yourself to your feet in the search for a drink.

Twenty minutes later you emerged from the shower, having found your lower body to be a sticky uncomfortable mess upon waking, you spied Henry’s shirt from the night before draped over a chair and pulled it on, smiling at the scent of his aftershave as your body heated the luxury cotton as it nestled against your naked body. Quietly making a cup of coffee you peered in at Henry, still snoring away in the massive bed. Letting him rest you took a seat in the dining area, resting your legs on the glass table as you checked your phone, snapping a shot from your hip that showed Henry’s shirt tails draped over your thigh, your steaming mug of coffee, and the London skyline in the background.

One Instagram upload later you were quietly enjoying your coffee as you checked your messages when one caught your eye, from your roommate. As you read it your heart sank. Two years ago when you’d been hunting for a flat share in London you’d been introduced to a friend of a friend, a photographer that had a flat in Fulham and was never home, as he was a Paparazzi and travelled for 9 months of the year. He kept a place in London that was in essence a storage flat, but for security he liked to have a roommate. The last person had moved out and he needed someone to take on the spare room. Rent would be low by London standards, and for most of the year you’d have the place to yourself. Well, now he had decided to make the move to LA permanent, and wanted to touch base with you regarding how you and he should go about sorting the flat… and he was giving you first refusal to see if you wanted to buy it.

You set the phone down on the table and stared out of the window, a million and one things racing through your mind… did you earn enough to get a mortgage? Would it just be easier to move out and find another place? You were chewing on a fingernail when a large pair of hands slid down your shoulders and slipped inside the open shirt to cup your breasts, whilst the owner of said hands bent over you and kissed you;

“Morning”

“You look delicious in my shirt Princess”

Henry's voice was rough from sleep, immediately ridding the previous problem from your mind and it sent a jolt of arousal straight to your core;

“You looked pretty damn good in it too last night”

Turning you stood and wrapped your arms around his wide shoulders, sighing into the tongue filled kiss as he lifted you and set your ass down on the cool glass of the table. Slowly he unfastened the few buttons that were holding the shirt together, before letting the garment fall open to expose your naked body. He ran his hand down your body, cupping your sex before sliding two fingers through your folds;

“You’ve showered”

“I have… I was sticky…”

“Mmmn… I’ll just have to make you sticky again”

He angled his hips and you felt his morning wood press against your entrance, his thumb rubbing against your clit as he slowly pushed into your soaked channel. You were expecting him to just fuck you on the table, but when he lifted you and wrapped your legs around his waist, you let out a cry of surprise before he walked the few steps to the massive windows and pressed you against them;

“I want all of London to see how beautiful you are when you cum, how well you take my dick…”

He started to fuck you hard against the glass, your head resting against the cool surface as you clung to his shoulders, and with each delicious flick of his hips he was driving you rapidly towards orgasm, his thickness filling you completely. You were almost there when he paused, and it brought your focus back to his face, surprise to see he wasn’t looking at you, instead his attention was outside. You following his gaze and let out a shriek: the window cleaning crew were hanging from their gantry, squeegees in hand and jaws agape as they watched Henry railing you against the window they were cleaning from the outside.

With a smirk Henry reached over and pressed the button for the internal window blinds to be lowered, the two of you still carnally connected as the outside world was cut off. In the now muted light Henry started with fresh vigour as he fucked you harder than ever before, filling you repeatedly before you came with a scream, squeezing his body so tight he followed soon after, pumping you full again.

He spent the longest time just holding you, pressing kisses to your face and neck before your legs started to cramp and you begged to be let down, the sclooping sound of his heavy length pulling free of your cum soaked channel met your ears and it sent a grin to your face;

“I’m going to need another shower”

“I think I’ll join you” he replied with a grin, before picking the room phone up; “I’ll order breakfast so it’ll be here for when we’re finished, say 45 minutes?”

You nodded silently, realising that the shower wasn’t going to be a ‘just get clean’ shower.

The shower had proven one thing; Henry was insatiable and had the stamina of a horse. He’d had you bent over from behind in the shower before you’d both cum, finally washing yourselves clean after that. As Henry shut the water off and stepped out he held out a hand to you, before wrapping a huge fluffy towel around your body and pressing a kiss to your nose. A knock at the suite door interrupted, Henry wrapping a towel around his waist as you started to dry yourself.

Emerging from the steamy bathroom a few minutes later, you’d tied the soft robe that was provided by the hotel around you and found Henry setting out the trays of breakfast on the table that only an hour before he’d been fucking you on;

“Breakfast is served! What would you like; waffles? Fruit?”

“Yes, it all sounds amazing”

You sat beside each other quietly eating, before Henry sat back and smiled at you;

“What would you like to do today?”

You shrugged;

“I hadn’t really thought about it to be honest… I wasn’t expecting an overnight stay at a hotel, so I didn’t exactly pack a change of clothes. I guess just head home after doing a walk a shame through reception in my evening dress”

Henry stood suddenly, holding a finger up in a ‘just a moment’ way, crossing the room and disappearing to the bedroom. You heard the quiet woosh of the sliding wardrobe doors opening, and moments later he reappeared carrying a number of bright yellow giftbags with ‘Selfridges’ emblazoned across them;

“I thought of that…”

He set the bags onto the table in front of you, and you raised an eyebrow;

“Hen… what’s in the bags…”

“An anti-walk-of-shame kit” You stood and looked into the bags, before starting to pull out their contents as he continued to explain; “I wasn’t sure what to get, or what the weather would be doing, so I got a few choices…”

Pulling a floaty summer dress from one bag you held it against you and twirled around, revelling in the way the fabric drifted on the breeze. Checking the label you saw that it was the right size, before setting it down and going through the other bags. You found a pair of comfortable velvet sliders that your feet would certainly welcome after wearing the high heels the night before, a cardigan, and a bikini that looked incredibly tiny along with some lace panties. Another bag contained travel sized toiletries and a hairbrush. Another held a pale tracksuit in the softest of jersey fabrics. You set everything back into their bags and looked at Henry;

“Thank you…. Is this normal for you?”

“No, not at all” he wrapped his arms around your waist; “With everything that happened this week, I wanted to treat you, surprise you with a night that couldn’t beat any other night you’d ever had with anyone in your past”

“What if I hadn’t said yes to staying the night?”

“Then I would have taken all this back to my place for you to use there” he shrugged and a smile on his lips.

“And why the bikini?”

“Oh, there’s a pool here, thought we could make use of it before lunch?”

The sight of Henry in swimming trunks was enough to make you want to drop to your knees, the fabric closely cropped around the tops of his massive thighs, and the way his dick bulged obscenely in them, well, you were glad you were the only ones making use of the pool. Your bikini that he’d chosen for you wasn’t much better, the top merely two triangles of fabric with an array of straps, the bottoms just about covering your pussy but not a lot else. You were thankful for the robes the hotel provided for your short trip to where the pool was.

Once you were in the water however the playful side came out of both of you, hands sneaking under the water for surreptitious squeezes and caresses. Just at the point where Henry was about to have you pressed against the wall of the pool you heard the door open to the pool room, and a family with three kids came in, the kids dive bombing into the water. You both laughed at their excitement of swimming in a high-rise, the views over London just as stunning as in every other room, and as the parents apologised for the kids you told them it wasn’t a problem at all;

“We were just about to get into the jacuzzi anyway”

“We were?” Henry muttered but didn’t argue as you led him up the steps and quickly sank down into the hot bubbling waters, the jacuzzi just around the corner from the pool. You were in the same room but thankfully out of sight, and the second the two of you were enveloped by the bubbles Henry pulled you to sit on his lap, facing away from him.

“There are camera’s here” he whispered in your ear; “But they can’t see what happens underwater…”

His fingers snuck into your bikini bottoms, seeking out your folds before rubbing against your clit. Resting your head back against his shoulder, to anyone watching it would seem you are just a couple in each other’s arms; what they couldn’t see was Henry already had two fingers knuckle deep within you. He was grinding his dick into your ass when you let the water float you above his lap enough for him to tug his shorts down just enough to free himself, before he pulled you down and you sank onto his hardness.

As you watched the city go about its day Henry whispered utter filth into your ear, his hips making the tiniest of thrusts beneath the water, his fingers rubbing hard against your clit as you did your absolute best not to moan, sigh, or give anything away above the water that you had Henry’s massive dick plundering you yet again, this time in public.

His breaths were getting shorter in your ear and you had almost bitten through your lip from trying not to moan at the pleasure that was building in the pit of your stomach, so when Henry’s other hand snuck inside your top and pinched at your nipple you let out a tiny grunt and started to cum, the tightness of your walls contracting around him setting his own orgasm off.

Soon after you climbed out having rearranged your swimwear, pulling your robes on before nodding to the family that were blissfully unaware of what you’d just done, their kids having been squealing and screaming far more than you two ever could.

Back at the room and showering again, you laughed as you playfully slapped away Henry’s hands as he kept trying to grab your ass in the shower, before finally turning and cupping his balls;

“Henry, give these two a rest, they’re almost empty… gotta save something for my afternoon snack…”

He grunted as you carefully washed him down of the soapy suds that covered his cock and balls, before kissing him once. As he soaped your back his voice was quiet;

“What would you like to do now? Head out somewhere? Borough Market is just across the road… Or it’s just a short walk down the embankment to tower bridge… we could be proper tourists for the day”

“That sounds good”

Sipping on the multiberry smoothie you’d bought as you and Henry had looked around Borough Market, the pair of you slowly strolled along the embankment alongside the River Thames. There was little to no breeze which you were truly thankful for as the dress he’d bought you was shorter than you were expecting, however he certainly wasn’t complaining and rather vocally had expressed how much he enjoyed seeing you in it. With your fingers interlinked with his you were deep in thought as you sipped on your drink, walking in silence towards the ornate towers of Tower Bridge.

“... Princess?”

Stopping you turned to Henry;

“Yes? Sorry, did you say…?”

Henry quietly laughed;

“I have in fact been wittering away for the entire length of the embankment… what’s on your mind?”

You saw a bench and nodded to it, Henry following you as you sat down;

“My roommate has told me he wants to sell the flat”

“Oh… I didn’t realise you had a roommate… and a ‘he’ at that…”

You sat back and looked at him, raising an eyebrow;

“Are you... Are you jealous?”

He leant forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. Taking a deep breath, he let out a single laugh before shaking his head;

“No… yes… kind of…”

“You don’t need to be. He’s gay. He’s out of the country for nine months of the year. When he is in the country, he’s barely at home with the hours he does”

“What does he do?”

“Paparazzi photographer. He’ll be here for a few months in the springtime… when it’s warm enough for celebs to be here for holidays and shopping. Usually starts with the Brit awards in February and is gone by May”

“Where does he sleep?”

“In his room of course”

“His… room?”

You stood, getting frustrated at the points Henry was focusing on;

“Yes, his room. The door off the right of the living room. That’s his room”

“Oh”

That was it. He didn’t say another word, instead just looked down at his hands. And it annoyed you. This man, this gorgeous, kind, caring man, the same man you had thought of and nothing else for the past few weeks, who had been your knight in shining armour, was suddenly focusing on such a small detail of your life and becoming jealous of it? The longer you looked at him the longer he kept his gaze averted, saying nothing.

You’d stayed long enough, silently you turned, the lump in your throat growing as you walked away, tossing the remains of your drink in the nearest bin. You didn’t look back. If he was going to be like that over something so tiny, perhaps you’d fallen too hard for him.

Chapter 8 >>>

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x you #henry cavill fanfic

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babysprouseisart · 2 years

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I posted 2 465 times in 2021

212 posts created (9%)

2253 posts reblogged (91%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 10.6 posts.

I added 591 tags in 2021

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Longest Tag: 91 characters

#i am a person with my own feelings and opinions and i am free to dislike a certain behavior

My Top Posts in 2021

Well...

It kind of makes me sad that there are so many people hating Ari for... nothing? Why? Why do you need to compare her and Lili? Why didn't you compare Lili and Bree...? Why not compare all Cole's girlfriends? Bruh... For me, that's just so silly, hilarious and also very unfounded and illogical...

Yes, you may have your own opinion and preferences, yes, you may be still sad and reminiscing about past, but please understand that by expressing your opinion publicly or saying something you can't change anything and you shouldn't because it's not your business. You can't stop time, rewind or extend something to eternity. One thing replaces another, people come and go, this is life. Changes and differences are inevitable. No matter how you imagine it in your head, this does not mean that it should be so in fact. Your ideals are only yours for that, and not someone else's. You should not impose and spread negativity because your imagination, expectations or ideas do not correspond to the reality or others' perspective. And if you think that by expressing dissatisfaction or saying nasty things you seem to be smarter than everyone or the majority - it's not true. It just shows how immature you are, how low are your moral principles, how selfish and silly you are. And I know that you obviously don't give a shit about my words and opinion, I understand perfectly well what your goal is, because you are likely just trolls and you are fueled when you hurt someone, you are on your own mind, doing what you want, and you don't care about objectivity, facts and morality... I just want to express my dissatisfaction, even if some people may throw shit at me for this.

And I ask only one thing, people, be kinder at least a little, at least try not to offend and hate someone without real reasons.

Peace, kindness and tenderness to all!

51 notes • Posted 2021-08-06 18:51:28 GMT

Cole Sprouse for the Condé Nast Traveler, February 22, 2016

On a three-day, cross-country trip from Los Angeles to New York City, we discover the romance of train travel, where every day starts at dawn and ends with a lingering glance to the starlit sky through the observation deck. As mentioned in the interview with Drew Barrymore, talking about taking a break on acting, starting archaeology, travelling, educating. Drew: “I love that you studied archaeology. I was reading up a lot on some of your travels and excavations...”

Cole: *shocked and shy* “Yes, I travelled all over for it. I miss it quite a bit still... It’s always been that profession in the back of my mind that I imagine I’ll eventually return to... Um, but, it was very romantic... I mean, take into account I spent the previous eight years of my life before college homeschooled and in a sound stage. There is a tremendous wisdom that comes from travelling. I believe travelling and the privilege of travelling to be one of the greatest educations that we can recieve. I’d studied a profession that, sort of, forced me to grow and learn, and I think that the currency acting is a, kind of, empathy that you accrue from travelling and learning about other people, and other lives. And it seemed... Honestly, in a strange way archaeology and the study of travel became the greatest acting training that I could have got as well”. Drew: “...but speaking of travel, you showed up at the desk of Condé Nast Traveler”

See the full post

52 notes • Posted 2021-01-19 19:08:28 GMT

Attention, folks.

I do not want and do not intend to waste my sincerely valuable time and nerves to prove to vile nasty, brainless people how vile and wrong they are, that they do not have the slightest right to mock a living person, an individual, that they do not have any justification in their absurd speeches and expressions, and so on.

I just want to say one thing: if you in the slightest way think that Cole is a disgusting actor, fat ass, that you are disgusted with him and you despise his work creativity, what he is associated or connected with - unsubscribe from me immediately.

53 notes • Posted 2021-02-07 20:46:15 GMT

For some of you, who may start dragging Cole down...

...before comparing the posed, processed photos of a long time ago with the new raw video and evaluating Cole's appearance, saying that he began to look worse, changed very much, or hinting at it by making collages, first look at the excerpts from the video, or something raw, and you will understand that Cole didn’t change for even a little bit worse. The only thing that has changed is that he began to look older and the fullness, roundness of the face were added a little bit, although he periodically dropped it, especially for FFA, besides, in a recent video he was dressed like this, with a turtleneck with a high throat and his elegant delectable neck and cheekbones do not stand out at all, almost merging with the face, additionally the angle of his face is not perfect, so he looks a little swollen, but not worse, practically no difference from his appearance of 2-4 years ago. He's still the same soft cinnamon bun, with his imperfect teeth, bags under his eyes, and plump cheeks with a starburst of freckles. If you really love him and admire, accept him for what he is, and that being naturally imperfect is way better than spoiling yourself with botox or other things to look fit-perfect. Love yourself as you are and respect others. Wish you all love and peace!

73 notes • Posted 2021-01-18 18:06:40 GMT

This handsome face...

via cole_.sprousemylife

78 notes • Posted 2021-02-27 10:41:26 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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isitgintimeyet · 4 years

Text

Just A Friend

Hope you are all having a good weekend. I’m the only one awake, the sun is shining and I’m enjoying my coffee in peace and quiet. Bliss!

Thank you for the continuing support for this story. it’s lovely reading (and re-reading) all the comments.

Hope you enjoy this next chapter.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta.

AO3

Previous Chapter

Chapter 3: From Relationship To Release

You know, I’m a great believer in relationships. Relationships come in all shapes and sizes — take my relationship with Geillis, for example.

I met Geillis on my first day of postgraduate training at Glasgow Royal Infirmary. I was spending three months in orthopaedic surgery and she was just finishing her training as a theatre nurse. We somehow kept bumping into each other at social gatherings and found we had many things in common — a childish sense of humour, an intolerance of pomposity and snobbishness, and a love of cheesy rom-com movies.

From there, our friendship snowballed, and for many years now, I’ve called her my best friend. Even the arrival of a fiancé and her forthcoming nuptials haven’t lessened our relationship in any way. Our careers have developed in parallel too. So when a vacancy came up for a senior theatre sister at the Children’s hospital, I didn’t hesitate to recommend her for the post. We work well together. For all her joking around and flippant comments she is damn good at her job. And I love her.

I don’t think I love many people. I’m very fond of a lot of people, mainly my friends. But love? No. And certainly not the romantic, live-our-life-together type of love.

I see how it can work. I look at Robbie’s parents, for example. The way they are there for each other, supporting through all the worries with their son, their comforting touches and reassuring glances.They are a solid unit and I admire that.

I also see the way that Geillis’ face lights up when she talks about her fiancé, Dougal, and the way he watches her when we are all together in the pub. And I think it’s great, I really do.

But it’s not something that I’m seeking out for myself. I don’t think I’m cut out for that type of relationship. I don’t think there is someone out there, my soulmate, to spend the rest of my life with. And I definitely don’t think that I need someone else to complete me, make me whole.

That doesn’t mean that I’m a hermit. Far from it, in fact. I do date and enjoy it, but try to steer clear of any where-is-this-relationship-going type discussions.

It may well be to do with my childhood. I’ll admit, I’ve not had the most normal upbringing and that could have coloured my view of happily-ever-after love.

I’ve never been part of a conventional family unit. Well, I mean, I was for the first four years of my life —until my parents died in a car accident. And, at that age, how much can you remember? I do have some vague memories — rough tweed fabric against my cheek as my father’s strong arms lift me up, the smell of ‘Miss Dior’ perfume as my mother’s soft hands caress my cheek, the sound of laughter as we dance around the living room to Michael Jackson. But these are only fleeting recollections, ephemeral, gone in an instant.

All my real childhood memories are centred around one man — my uncle, Lambert Beauchamp. He, unhesitatingly, took me in when my parents died and became my guardian, my parent, my rock. He and I were a team, and I miss him every single day.

He was a confirmed bachelor, and I don’t mean that in a euphemistic way. He lived his life by his own rules and if he had been gay, he would have seen no reason to hide it. No, he had no need for romantic entanglements, no complicated relationships, no messy sexual encounters. He had two loves in his life — me and his work. He was a professor at the University, teaching archaeology and could, quite happily, get lost for hours in the bowels of the archives, studying ancient Somarian drinking vessels.

Growing up he was my role model, my yardstick against which to measure boys.

And over time, I've come to realise that I've always found myself attracted to the type of men which have certain ‘Lambert-esque’ qualities. Which leads me, I suppose, to Frank.

Just like my uncle, he’s a professor at the university. In history — more recent than Lamb’s studies only three hundred years ago, not three thousand. He’s single minded about his research, like my uncle, and he cares deeply about me, which makes me feel bad because I don’t feel the same way. Of course, I care about him, just not enough for a serious relationship that’s going somewhere.

All of this is a long winded way of saying what I’ve actually known for a while now... I need to break up with Frank.

*************

I’m just contemplating whether to brave the canteen or grab a sandwich from the hospital shop, when there’s a knock at my office door and a hand appears brandishing a couple of distinctive Gregg’s paper bags. This hand is closely followed by the rest of Geillis, who plonks herself down on one of my visitor chairs. A wonderful aroma of freshly baked goods wafts across the desk. My stomach rumbles in anticipation.

“Steak bake or sausage roll?” she asks as she places both bags on my desk, although she knows my preference.

“Ooh, how did you know I was just thinking about lunch?” I pick up one of the bags, the oozing gravy on its surface being a clear giveaway.

“We’ve been friends fer long enough,” Geillis smiles. “I ken what ye’re thinking. In fact, ye’ve something on yer mind right now. No’ a work thing. C’mon, spill.”

I swear, it’s uncanny. In the Middle Ages Geillis would undoubtedly have been tried as a witch. Her powers of deduction are that good.

I say nothing for a moment and focus on my lunch, blowing ineffectually on the hot meat filling.

“Weel? I’m waiting and ye ken I’m no’ a patient woman, Claire. This is tae do wi’ Frank, is it no’? Are ye planning on dumping him?”

See what I mean? Witchcraft.

“You make it sound so harsh. But I can’t carry on with Frank, he’s investing more into this… this—“

“Ye can say the word, Claire. Relationship… R… E…—“

“I know, I know. But I have to do something. I know Frank wants more than I want to give in this ‘relationship’.” I enunciate clearly just to make the point to Geillis. I’m not afraid of the word… I can say it.

“Anyway,” I add casually as I dab at the pastry crumbs with my finger. “I thought you’d be pleased. I know you’ve never liked him.”

Geillis tuts. “‘Tis no’ a matter of like. We jes’ havena got anything in common. He’s awfa serious and ye dampen yer personality down when ye’re with him. I’ve seen ye, ye canna deny it.”

I try to interject, but Geillis ignores my sounds of protest and carries on talking. “But it’s no’ jes’ Frank. Ye do this all the time, Claire. Whenever anyone tries tae get serious, ye run. What is wrong wi’ wanting a relationship anyway?”

“I have my work, I have my friends. I date, I go out with men, I have a good, if sporadic, sex life… and a trusty dual speed vibrator. What’s wrong with me wanting my life the way I want it?”

Geillis crams the end of her sausage roll into her mouth and chews vigorously for a minute. I pass her a paper serviette for her greasy hands. She gathers up the flaky pastry crumbs that have settled on her chest, wraps them in the serviette and pops it neatly in the bin.

“Ok, I get it. I’ll back off. But all I’m saying is dinna close yerself off tae the possibility of a real relationship, aye?”

Knowing she's gone as far as she can with this topic, she gets up and heads for the door. “Nae rest fer the wicked. Oh, and Claire, jes’ one thing…”

She pauses dramatically. “Dinna forget… ye’ve gravy on yer chin.”

And with that she disappears, leaving me with a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach caused by more than the calorie ridden pasty.

I am just settling down to dictate some patient letters when Frank texts to suggest dinner at my favourite Italian restaurant. This isn’t good. It’s a lovely restaurant, the kind of restaurant where special occasions are celebrated— birthdays, anniversaries, declarations…

So I have to lie… no, not lie, fib. I text back pleading a heavy day in theatre — aching feet, headache and so on.

His concerned response makes me feel bad. No need for fibbing, I do feel pretty shitty now. However, it also makes me more resolved to do what I have to do. I can’t drag this out, causing him more and more hurt. So, I invite him to my flat this evening instead.

*******

I have a final glance in the mirror in my bedroom. I do actually look a bit worn out. I haven’t really put any makeup on, just a touch of mascara and a slick of lipstick, which I have already managed to chew off.

My hair is, as per usual, a bit wild and untamed. I have a bathroom shelf full of products promising smooth and manageable curls, but have yet to find one that actually delivers on their promises. I tuck my hair behind my ears, pinch my cheeks to try to look a little less pale and head to the front door.

Frank is as punctual as ever. Unlike other things in my life, he’s always delivering on his promises. Which makes me feel even worse. I have nothing to accuse him of, no unacceptable behaviour— apart from wanting more than I’m prepared to give. That old cliché, “it’s not you, it’s me”, really is appropriate here. I’m going to try not to actually say those words though. He deserves more than that.

And so I take a deep breath and open the door. He stands there expectantly with two bottles of wine, one red and one white, in his hands.

“I wasn’t sure what we would be eating, so I got both just in case,” he volunteers as he walks in and leans close to me for a kiss.

I give him my cheek and make a fuss of taking the bottles from him to deflect my lack of affection.

He follows me into the lounge. I’m sure he notices that I make no offer to pour the wine. I set the wine on the coffee table and perch on the end of the settee.

Frank takes my hands. “Claire, darling, are you ok? Has it been a rough day?”

I shake my head. “It’s not been the best. Frank… I…”

I can’t even look at him now. I take a deep breath and plunge in. “Frank, I… the thing is… I don’t know how… I think we should stop seeing each other.” The words tumble out of my mouth like a deluge.

I finally look up as Frank releases my hands and walks over to the window. He stands still, his back to me, as if just taking in the view. Then he turns to face me, staring intently at me, scrutinising my face as if looking for a glimmer of hope. The silence is unbearable.

“Frank, it’s not you—“ I try to fill the void, by resorting to stale old clichés after all.

“Spare me that platitude.” He snaps at me. “We’re not fifteen. This was… is… serious to me, Claire.”

Frank now moves to sit next to me. His hand rests on my thigh, his fingers lightly drawing circles on my jeans. I watch for a moment. Am I supposed to move it? Should I remind him he no longer can touch me like this?

His voice softens. “I lo—“

“No, please, Frank. Don’t say it. Please don’t. You are such a nice man. You don’t deserve this.” Gently, I lift his hand and place it on his leg.

“Then don’t do it. Tell me, Claire, what do I have to do? What changes do I have to make for us to move forward? I’ll do it, tell me. We can make this work, I know.”

What do I say now? Anything I say will only hurt him more. All I can do is apologise and try to explain.

“I am sorry, really. It’s just, well, you want more than I can give. You think about a future—“

“And what’s wrong with that? That’s what most people want, Claire. Planning for a future together— a home, a family… our family.” Frank’s getting angry now, raising his voice.

“Please, I’m trying to explain. You want a future life together and I can’t give you that. I’m sorry that I’m hurting you.”

“Is there someone else? Is that what this is all about?”

I’ve been trying to remain composed, to give Frank the explanation he deserves. But this question annoys me beyond belief, as if I have to be one half of a couple.

“I can’t believe you asked that. No, it’s not about another man. I can’t be what you want me to be and that’s it.”

He stands up now, right in front of me. His hands are down by his sides, so tightly clenched into fists that his knuckles are white against the slight tan of his skin. For a fleeting nanosecond, I wonder if he is going to hit me. But, of course not, he’s just trying to gain control of himself.

“That’s it, then.” The words are spat out with venom.

“You know I’m sorry.”

He shrugs dismissively. “Of course. Well, goodbye.”

He makes for the door.

“What about the wine?” I indicate the two bottles, still on the table. It’s a pointless trivial comment, I know, but for some reason I don’t want him to think I expect to keep them.

Frank doesn’t even look over his shoulder. “Consider them a parting gift.”

And with that, he's gone.

I remain sitting motionless, processing what I’ve just done. It’s not easy hearing those words, but neither is it easy to have to say them. So many emotions are coursing through my body — sorrow, guilt, regret, self-reproach, worry. And in the midst of this maelstrom, there is one thing I can clearly recognise — a glimmering spark of relief.

#outlander fanfiction #outlander fan fic #Just a Friend #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #bit more Geillis #Chapter 3

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