#the clipper race fleet

[absme]

Race finish and parade of sail the eleven strong Clipper Race fleet arrive into Royal Albert Dock in East Ham, Newham, England,

[o-craven-canto]

A quick drawing of the "Nautiloids" from Olaf Stapledon's Star maker (1937, chapter 5, section 3) (full text), prompted by @loving-n0t-heyting 's recent post.

On one of [these planets] a mollusc-like creature, living in the coastal shallows, acquired a propensity to drift in its boat-like shell on the sea's surface, thus keeping in touch with its drifting vegetable food. As the ages passed, its shell became better adapted to navigation. Mere drifting was supplemented by means of a crude sail, a membrane extending from the creature's back... The hull was a rigid, stream-lined vessel, shaped much as the nineteenth-century clipper in her prime, and larger than our largest whale. At the rear a tentacle or fin developed into a rudder, which was sometimes used also as a propeller, like a fish's tail... The simple membranes of the ancestral type had become a system of parchment-like sails and bony masts and spars, under voluntary muscular control... The mainmast-head also bore eyes, for searching the horizon. An organ of magnetic sensitivity in the brain afforded a reliable means of orientation. At the fore end of the vessel were two long manipulatory tentacles, which during locomotion were folded snugly to the flanks.

It was a strange experience to enter the mind of an intelligent ship to see the foam circling under one's own nose as the vessel plunged through the waves, to taste the bitter or delicious currents streaming past one's flanks, to feel the pressure of air on the sails as one beat up against the breeze, to hear beneath the water-line the rush and murmur of distant shoals of fishes, and indeed actually to hear the sea-bottom's configuration by means of the echoes that it cast up to the under-water ears. It was strange and terrifying to be caught in a hurricane, to feel the masts straining and the sails threatening to split, while the hull was battered by the small but furious waves of that massive planet.

Bewildering and delightful it was to feel in the presence of a slim female clipper the longing for contact, and to carry out with her on the high seas the tacking and yawing, the piratical pursuit and overhauling, the delicate, fleeting caress of tentacles, which formed the love-play of this race... It was charming, too, to see a mother ship attended by her children. I should mention, by the way, that at birth the young were launched from the mother's decks like little boats, one from the port side, one from the starboard. Thenceforth they were suckled at her flanks. In play they swam about her like ducklings, or spread their immature sails. In rough weather and for long voyaging they were taken aboard.

(original dA page)

[ltwilliammowett]

Tea Races

After the East India Company lost its monopoly right to buy and sell tea in India in 1813, more and more private trading companies started to transport tea. In 1832, the first American clipper, inspired by the Baltimore Clipper (actually a schooner and more of a privateer), saw the light of day. In the 1840s, others followed because clippers were light, sleekly built and able to carry a lot of sail without affecting their speed. This made them ideal for fast transport. Of course, this also prompted the British to build their own clippers, and from the 1850s onwards they had their own clipper fleet. The logical next step, of course, when all these ultra-fast clipper ships were sailing the world's oceans, was to out-compete the other ships. Each crew competed with the next to be the first to return with a ship full of tea and a range of other goods, creating great excitement and often a substantial extra reward for the winning ship.

The "Thermopylae" Leaving Foochow by Montague Dawson 1895-1973 (x)

The Clipper races took place when the first teas of the season arrived from China. During the tea season they were literally the talk of the town. Telegrams were sent and read out with great excitement as the ships passed certain points once they reached the English Channel. Tea buyers and merchants often stayed overnight at the docks or in nearby lodgings when the clippers reached an area called Gravesend. This meant that the ships would soon be docking and everyone wanted to be the first to buy the new season's teas and sell on to their customers the gewinner tea. The races, which began in the 1850s, ended after 1871, reaching their peak in the 1860s.

Racing Home, the China Clippers Chrysolite and Stornoway Almost Neck, by Montague Dawson 1895-1973 (x)

This race, held in 1866, went down in history as the Great Tee Race and was initially started by 9 clippers but the following five broke away. Fiery Cross (a very successful winner in recent years), Ariel, Taeping, Serica and Taitsing. The race took over three months and went through the South China Sea, through the Sunda Strait and across the Indian Ocean, around the Cape of Good Hope and up the Atlantic Ocean to the English Channel. This was the fastest route a ship could take because the Suez Canal had not yet been completed. The three leading ships reached the port of London shortly after each other.

Illustrated London News, 22 September 1866 p276. Taeping and Ariel off The Lizard (x)

At Dungeness, harbour pilots boarded the Taeping and the Ariel at the same time and at the Downs, steamers were waiting to tow the ships up the Thames. At this point the race was truly decided.

Both ships were taken in tow at the same time and went head to head up the Thames. However, the Taeping reached Gravesend first, the Ariel was close behind and the Serica in third was not beaten. Taeping reached the harbour at 21:45 and won the race by just 20 minutes ahead of the Ariel. The Serica was third, having arrived just an hour and a half after the winner.

Tea Clipper Race, by Harry Berstecher (1893–1983) (x)

It had taken the three teaclippers only 99 days to circumnavigate three quarters of the globe. The Daily Mail reported that the Taeping secured the prize, which was an additional payment of ten shillings per tonne of tea. There were 1,108,709 pounds of tea loaded on board the Taeping. This was not a good deal for the merchants, however, because the Erl King, which sailed out of competition because it had steam propulsion as an auxiliary engine, had already arrived in London a week earlier with fresh tea. That the races stopped from 1871 was due to the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869, which allowed a shorter route to and from China. This route was practically impossible for sailing ships, as they had to be towed through the canal, and so the clippers gradually became superfluous as merchant ships.

[babyybitchhh]

Ogun x Reader 18+

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 8,375

Warnings: established relationship, cunnilingus, brief mention of breeding/pregnancy implication, piv sex, creampie

A/N: I really did not think I'd finish this and yet, months later, here we are. I said I wanted to do Ogun's hair for him so that is exactly what I did. 😤 A LOT of research went into the first half of this fic, I can't even tell you how many braiding videos I watched or how many haircare blurbs I read through, so if my ignorance shows I really do apologize. I can barely do my own hair let alone someone else's and I put in a lot leg work for about 5 paragraphs of relevant information. lol Best boy deserves it though, so please enjoy!

♥♥♥♥

The quiet drone of the TV against the far wall was the only source of noise in the small apartment and neither of you were paying any attention to it. Hadn’t been for the last few hours, but that was how most wash days went. The background chatter was superfluous at best when you had all of your attention zeroed in on your boyfriend's hair and Ogun was pleasantly dozing at your feet, lost in his own little world of pampered bliss.

It did, however, serve its purpose in helping you better keep track of the time. If left to your own thoughts, you would have all too easily slipped into the same comfortable lull as him and forgotten about everything else you had to do. Like think about food, for example.

Briefly glancing up at the sound of cheesy sitcom music, you mentally check off another half hour. It was starting to get late which meant he’d probably be starving by the time you were done and that wouldn’t exactly come as a surprise given you’d been at this for the better part of the day. All that hard earned muscle mass of his certainly wasn’t going to maintain itself.

And, now that you were thinking about it, you were starting to notice the creeping pang of hunger in the back of your mind, buzzing faintly like an incessant afterthought.

Drawing a breath, you start to ask if he’s in the mood for anything in particular but Ogun manages to beat you to it.

“What should we do for dinner?”

You smile to yourself, fingers deftly moving through his hair with practiced ease -- under, scoop, under, repeat -- while you give that question some thought. Surely there was something you could whip up with what you had on hand in the kitchen. The real question, however, was what.

Doing a quick mental checklist of your cupboards, you rapidly narrow down your options. A fast and easy pasta dish was out of the question without the sauce or any ingredients to make it with. No meat for hamburgers. There was still some salad mix in the fridge but he needed something far more substantial than that. Damn. You should probably go shopping soon.

“Hmm,” Gently tilting Ogun’s head forward, you pick back up on the half finished braid you were working on. He was almost done, with only two rows left to go. The argan oil and shea products you’d put in his hair left your fingertips feeling buttery smooth and soft, their lingering smell as warm as it was soothing. It permeated the air in the living room, enclosing you both in your own little bubble for two and making for an altogether pleasantly relaxing Sunday afternoon.

“Let’s see …” You murmur at length. “I could probably make a stir fry with some vegetables and shrimp. How’s that sound?”

“As much as I love your cooking,” He shifts on the floor and glances over his shoulder, forcing you to pause what your fingers are doing. “I was thinking we could order in tonight. My treat.”

Your smile grows even when you try to ignore the unmistakable flutter in your chest. “Oh? And what’s the occasion?”

“There isn’t one.” His mouth curls up, mirroring yours. “But if you need an excuse, consider it thanks for doing my hair.”

“That’s sweet of you, but I’m not finished yet.” Placing a hand atop his head, you pointedly turn him around straight again and Ogun laughs, very softly, when you release him so you can get back to work.

You enjoyed getting to do this for him and the fact you liked playing with his hair was no secret either. It was wild and thick, very close to being untamable, but it was also incredibly healthy -- something you would have all too happily taken credit for if it hadn’t been in the same enviable condition as when you’d first met him. That he trusted you enough to let you do this was, perhaps, more intimate than anything else you’d ever done together, and with a few more twists you put the finishing touches on the braid.

Letting it hang next to the others, you direct him to lean back so that you can easily reach the front of his hairline again. He acquiesces without a fuss and sinks into the couch, letting the back of his head settle comfortably in your lap. Ogun’s shoulders brush your knees when you hunch closer with a pink rat tail comb in hand and you’re acutely aware of him watching you as you begin sectioning out the next row. You start to smile again, even though you try not to.

“What?”

“I’m still waiting on an answer.”

You shoot him a quick look.

Golden eyes gleam back at you, reflecting endearment and humor alike, and you quickly focus in on his blown out, fluffy hair again before he can successfully distract you. “I don’t know. You pick.”

“Nope.” He hums goodnaturedly. “That’s not how this works. You can’t just push it back on me when I asked you for a reason. Tell me what you want.”

“I really don’t know - hey!” You squawk when he gives the back of your calf a sharp pinch in retaliation for being so uncooperative and you squirm, giggling. “Don’t do that! I’m honestly not sure what I’m in the mood for.”

“Then think about it.”

“I am.” You intone, gently pushing Ogun’s head forward just enough to get at the crown of his head. Relative silence claims the room once more while you consider an almost endless list of potential choices and finish up the second to last braid. Thankfully without any more pinching attacks on his end. He was going to look so nice when you were done.

“What about a pizza?” You suggest at last.

“I’m game.” He murmurs, slouching to the side so he can rest his temple against the plush cushion of your leg. It gives you the perfect angle to attack the final strip from and you get to work weaving coarse strands into his preferred fashion, your fingers moving quickly but efficiently. You’d practiced tirelessly just to ensure he wouldn’t have to go to someone else for this without skimping on the finished product's quality and it certainly showed.

A few moments later, the task is complete.

Grabbing an elastic band, you gather Ogun’s styled hair into a neat little ponytail and tie it off at the back of his head. You finish up by running your fingertips across one shaved side of his scalp, affectionately feeling out the new growth before deciding he can go another week or two until you have to bring out the clippers again.

“Alright. You’re all done.”

Lifting a hand to feel over his hair, he twists around and peers up at you with an expectant grin. “How do I look?”

“Like the most handsome man in the world.”

Ogun positively beams. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Leaning close, you press a brief kiss to his smiling mouth. “What sort of pizza do you --”

He cuts you off when he suddenly pushes up on his knees and catches your lips again.

Your eyes go big when broad hands find the meat of your thighs and gently squeeze them while he kisses you much more impassionedly than you’d kissed him. A sound of surprise rises in the back of your throat but he quickly swallows it, making your heart race.

Heaving a quiet sigh through your nose, you lean into the gesture and meet him halfway, eagerly kissing him back.

Grinning knowingly, Ogun tilts his head and slots his mouth more securely over yours to deepen the exchange. You find yourself slowly melting against him and you bring your hands up to grab onto his shoulders. God, he was unfairly good at this. Not that you were complaining, but a polite segue from one topic to the next would have been appreciated. You’d been thinking about dinner, what sort of toppings you wanted on your pizza, and now you were thinking about …

You groan, very softly, when his palms drag up along your sides, bunching the cotton of your t-shirt in the process. It allows for the briefest skin on skin contact and an eruption of goosebumps spreads across your body, as anticipatory as they were impatient.

Lips parting, you grant him access and Ogun jumps at the chance, eagerly sweeping his tongue into your mouth to lav yours with warm, wet attention. The smooth, flickering strokes he graces your palette with inspires a flood of molten heat in your gut that leaves you wanting more. Always more. It was never enough where he was concerned - and you slide one of your hands higher still to tenderly cradle the curve of his skull.

Much to your whining disappointment, however, he pulls back a moment later to give you some space and you whimper at the loss.

“Ogun …”

“Shh. I’m right here, baby.” He whispers, leaning back in to press a quick peck to your lips before doing the same to the corner of your mouth.

It’s not enough to pacify you though and you loop both arms around his neck, trying to pull him back in again. He obliges with an affectionate nuzzle, pressing close to settle against your lap and pin you to the back of the couch under his sturdy weight.

“What's wrong, sweetheart?”

You pull your mouth in an imploring pout. “I’d like for you to finish what you started.”

He laughs, sweet and boyish as he pulls back to fix you with a big grin. “Oh? And have I ever left you wanting?”

“No, but I’d hate for you to start now.” You sound a little whiny. Needy.

Another quiet laugh and Ogun comes in to kiss you again, much more sedately this time. His soft lips mold seamlessly to yours, working against your mouth at just the right speed, with the right amount of pressure to steal the air from your lungs.

You let loose a soft moan as you arch underneath him and push your chests together, basking in the fleeting contact despite how unsatisfying it is. What you really want is to have his body working over yours without the impediment of bothersome clothes in the way. To feel the chorded steel muscle he’d worked so hard to build flexing and driving into you.

A shudder ripples through you when the thrumming desire that wells inside slithers out from between your legs to ignite the rest of your body in heated flame. An all powerful compulsion which you wouldn’t have fought even if you could.

His mouth still working in tandem with yours, Ogun gives your waist a possessive squeeze and it sends a fresh wave of sharp arousal racing down your spine. You whimper, pushing up into him a little harder, more fervently, as you clutch at his shoulders. The need to have him laid out on top of you has taken over your higher functioning mind, all thoughts of pizza long gone out the window as the velvety push and pull of his mouth draws you further under his spell.

Willingly, you surrender to the exigent summons and curl your legs up around his narrow hips to tug him even closer, urging him into action.

A hot puff of air fans across your face when he abruptly disengages from the kiss, moving to press his lips against the apple of your cheek, your jaw. There’s a noticeable haste in his actions now and you turn your head to give him better access, exposing the vulnerable line of your throat to his seeking mouth.

Ogun wastes no time and immediately swoops in, pecking his way down the column of your neck with an occasional love bite here or there for good measure. Each one seemed to make your toes curl that much tighter to the point where you could hardly stand it anymore.

“You play dirty …” You mumble, lightly running your nails across his nape.

“Mm, how so?” He sounds distracted and preoccupied, too busy mouthing at your pulse to pay it any mind.

“You told me to decide on dinner …” You trail off when he latches onto the juncture of your neck and shoulder, immediately succumbing to the tantalizing suction Ogun applies with his lips. You let out a soft, faltering groan, brows furrowing in pleasure when it makes the simmering heat in your gut double and then triple as teeth sink into delicate skin.

Shuddering, you deliberately wrack your brain in an attempt to finish your train of thought but that proves much more of a struggle than you’d been prepared for.

“But … nngh, but now all I want is you …”

He comes up at your somewhat dreamy admittance, a mischievous look camping out on his face even as big hands push at the hem of your shirt. “Oh yeah? Anything you want in particular, sweetheart?”

Lifting your gaze, you peer up at Ogun from just a scant few inches away. The shallow rise and fall of your chest has no doubt clued him in that he’s got you all worked up now but you aren’t exactly trying to hide it. He already knew just how weak you were for him, knew precisely how well your body always responded to his advances, so there really wasn’t any point in pretending otherwise.

You were powerless against his undeniable charm and he seemed to get just as much enjoyment out of that as you did. And looking at him now you think, not for the first time, that you just might be the luckiest girl in the world.

“Let’s start with that talented mouth.” You murmur, reaching out to take his smooth jaw in hand and pull him, grinning, into another kiss.

Noising quietly against your mouth, he leans further into you until it feels like you’re being pleasantly crushed under the hard, muscular weight of his frame. It only serves to get you even more riled up, now well and truly desperate to feel his bare skin flush against yours as you roll your hips forward and drag your clenching pussy across the front of his pants.

Lips parting on a heady groan, he returns the favor by slowly thrusting his pelvis forward so you can feel the stiff outline of his cock caressing your clothed slit. You keen at the sensation and cant your hips into the pressure, the two of you gradually picking up a steady, unhurried rhythm together that damn near drives you wild.

Hands staying busy while he sedately humps you, Ogun patiently works your shirt up higher and higher until it’s bunched under your armpits. Reaching around for the clasp of your bra, he gives it one good tug and the satiny soft material loosens around your shoulders with a near silent slither. Bringing his hands to the front again, he shoves the cups up out of the way before letting them descend on soft, pliant breasts that seem to fit just right in the curve of his worn palms. Giving them both a gentle squeeze, he kneads your chest until you groan and tip your head back, breaking apart from the kiss in favor of sighing up at the ceiling.

He takes that opportunity to dip his face close and press an open mouthed kiss to the center of your sternum while he carefully squeezes your tits in a pinching grip. It makes you shudder, wishing you could clench your thighs and ease the growing ache there, but that’s impossible when he’s slotted between them like this. You have no choice but to endure the thrumming tension and you squirm underneath him, needily bucking up to meet the next thrust of his hips with a frustrated little groan.

“Ogun,” You gasp, letting your fingers scrabble to grab hold of his black t-shirt and tug on it. “I need you. Now.”

Bringing his head up, Ogun allows himself a moment to drink in the wanton expression on your face while he cups his hands around your breasts almost reverently. “How do you need me, baby?” He mumbles, letting his thumbs brush over your stiff nipples in a feather light caress. “What do you need?”

“Your mouth …” You whine, practically choking on it.

“Where do you need my mouth, huh? Tell me.”

“On my pussy.” It’s more a plea than a statement and you shake for him even as the words leave your mouth.

Ogun shifts against you and bends down, mouth opening wide over the pebbled peak of your breast. You watch on, mesmerized, when the pink of his tongue darts out to lap at the fleshy bud before sealing his lips around it and suckling. Your eyes slip shut as you arch, pushing your chest up to meet him while your fingers cling to the cotton of his shirt. Ogun doesn’t linger long though and he soon comes up off the first with a dull pop before catching your other nipple between his lips.

Briefly worrying it, he slides his hand forward to tweak the spit lathered bud between thumb and forefinger, making you outright seethe. You give up on getting his top off with an impatient little huff and bring your hands down to grasp at his arms instead. The firm, wiry muscle under his skin offers little give no matter how hard you squeeze or dig your nails in, and he remains ever unperturbed, casually sucking the tip of your breast to stiff, throbbing attention.

“Please, Ogun …”

With a faint hum, he comes up off your chest and presses a quick peck to the puckered nipple. “I know, baby. I know.” Moving back to the first nipple, he kisses that one too. “Just be patient, alright? You know you don’t have to beg me to go down on you …”

You groan at the velvety suggestion and tuck your chin down to pin him with an imploring look. Ogun offers you a lopsided grin in return, pinching both your nipples between his fingers and carefully tweaking the sensitive flesh until you outright gasp. You feel like you’re running on autopilot now as you reach up to sandwich his face between your palms and pull him into yet another kiss, lips crashing together with an intensity that makes your pussy flutter.

His mouth parts against yours, opening wide as if to swallow you whole, and all the while he keeps plucking at your tits until they’re aching almost as much as your neglected cunt. You couldn’t take it anymore ...

Tightening your legs around Ogun’s waist, you dig your heels into the small of his back and draw him right up against you so you can feel the hard weight of his cock digging into the spot where you need him most. A frazzled, high strung wail claws its way up the back of your throat as you jut your pelvis up and rub yourself against that thick, pulsing heat in search of some relief but very little is forthcoming like this.

He pulls back at the sudden friction thoufg and issues a faltering groan that seems to echo off the walls for as quiet as it is. “Shit … you really want it that bad, baby?”

“It’s your fault …”

“I know, I know.” Bending close, Ogun presses a hard peck to the center of your chest. “And I’ll take responsibility for that, don’t you worry.”

Lower he trails, slowly kissing his way down your fluttering stomach as his hands come around to unbutton your shorts. The zipper quickly follows suit and then he’s tugging them down your thighs while you eagerly twist to help get you undressed just that much quicker.

Thoughtlessly tossing them aside, Ogun reaches for your panties next but he’s much more subdued in removing these. One torturous fraction at a time, he carefully pries the thin cotton away until they’re low enough to expose your puffy slit to the air. He lets out an appreciative noise of approval when he sees the sticky mess you’ve made along the seam and your heart pounds in your ears as you draw your legs up so he can slip the dainty cotton the rest of the way off.

He discards them somewhere on the floor, probably right alongside your shorts, before palming your bent knees. Gently, Ogun eases them apart so he can peer down at your sticky cunt with an unconcealed expression of hunger.

“Look at you, baby. Just look at this pretty pussy, already so wet for me.”

Smoothing big hands up along your bare thighs, he bends close and presses his mouth to the apex of your mound in a surprisingly chaste but hungry kiss. Digging your fingers into the couch cushions, you enticingly wiggle your hips at him and gold eyes flash at you from between your legs, amusement and something much more dark shining within them.

You feel his lips eagerly curl against you then, and he shuffles closer to the couch so that he’s hunched directly over your prone body. Hooking long fingers under one of your legs, he hauls it up and over his shoulder before repeating the process on the other side. Grabbing big, grasping handfuls of your hips, he uses his hold on you to drag your lower body just to the edge of the seat, making you squeak at suddenly finding yourself completely vulnerable and laid bare. Your pussy clenches tight in anticipation though and you tremble, drawing a steadying breath when he pecks at the soft swell of your inner thigh, warm breath puffing against your skin.

There was no denying that he had you completely at his mercy like this and you would have been lying through your teeth if you said that didn’t excite you.

“Comfortable?”

At your nod, Ogun leans forward just enough to bend your legs towards your chest and fold you against the top of the couch. He settles on his knees and dips his head down, mouth parting so his tongue can take a quick swipe from the bottom of your gushing cunt up to the top. The sight of it has you groaning for him, your vision swimming as you force yourself to keep watching.

That proves exceedingly difficult when he presses in close, making the meat of your pussy lips squish and mold against his face. Slowly kissing at you to work them open with his mouth, he flicks his attention up to regard your face and you practically vibrate on the cushions. Another swipe of his tongue hits its mark, wetly knocking your clit, and you let loose a seething mewl.

“O - ohh! Yeah …”

Ogun’s fingers dig into your twitching hips to keep them spread while he takes his time slowly swirling around that sensitive pleasure button. He starts at a wide breadth and then gradually works his tongue in tighter and tighter circles until he’s finally grinding it into oblivion. The soft, gooey friction of his mouth is enough to have you wheezing in pleasure as sweat beads, unnoticed, along your lower back and you arch, making your tits jiggle with the motion.

“Right there … don’t stop!”

Issuing a low sound of agreement, Ogun opens his jaw wider and drags his tongue straight up through your slick, juicy folds. You can feel every little thing - every nerve ending and every meaty bit of flesh that tries to cling to the textured muscle and your legs jerk at the sensation.

Tossing your head back against the couch, you blindly reach down to grasp his knuckles in a death grip. “Ah, haah … feels good ...”

In lieu of a proper response, he tilts his head and attacks your thrumming clit from a different angle. He’s relentless, mercilessly battering that delicate little pearl back and forth with such fervor that it leaves you quaking under his attention, struggling just to breathe. You’re not sure how much more of this you can stand, the threat of tipping over the edge before you can even fully enjoy it looking like a very real possibility now, but then Ogun seals his mouth around the fleshy nub and sucks.

Hard.

“Oh!” You choke on a haggard, stuttering gasp of pleasure, lurching underneath him.

Confidently humming, he comes up off you with a dull pop and a sticky breath of air. “Looks like you’re already getting close.” Ogun murmurs, sounding really quite smug about that.

Never one to leave you hanging though, he crowds one of his hands between your legs and presses blunt fingers into your slit. Finding your throbbing clit again, Ogun starts to rub it in fast strokes made smooth by the viscous mix of saliva and arousal that absolutely coats your pussy and this time you practically shriek.

“Yes! Yes, I’m getting close! … nngghh … please, please, pleeease! Ogun, please!”

But he refuses to let up on your poor little cunt just yet. “Please what, baby?”

You twist, thighs flexing and going ramrod stiff around his head. Your vision was starting to blur around the edges, reflexive tears pricking at your eyes. It’s hard just to think straight let alone form a semi coherent sentence when he’s relentlessly rubbing your clit with roughly calloused fingertips like that, the friction almost too much to bear and quickly riding the line of overstimulation. You couldn’t handle much more of it.

“Pl - please put your dick in me! Please! I wanna’ come on your cock, Ogun! I’m buh - aaah - ah! - begging!”

A low, rumbling groan rises up in his chest but, still, he doesn’t stop. “I thought you wanted to come on my mouth?”

“I - I changed my mind!”

He grunts, deep and primal in his acknowledgement, and the sound races straight to your throbbing cunt.

You respond with a broken groan, only to nearly come right up off the couch when he withdraws his fingers and replaces them with his mouth. Supple lips part and work you open again so he can worm his tongue into the crease of your body. He delivers a series of taunting flicks to the straining bud hidden within, making you sensitively twitch, before dragging the flat of his tongue across it in broad, sweeping strokes. You could feel yourself tipping ever closer to the edge and, with a wheezing gasp, you reach down with both hands to cradle either side of his head.

You’re not sure if you want to push him away or draw him closer - as if that were even possible at this point.

“Oh - Ogun, wha - wait! Nngh … if you keep going - -“

Smacking his lips, he comes up just enough for you to hear him say “You’ll cum? Good.” Before diving back in.

The way he immediately opens his mouth wide and plunges his tongue into the satiny soft folds and creases of your cunt, teasing at your entrance, has you jolting as if you’ve been electrocuted. Gritting your teeth, you clutch him all the tighter while the building pressure inside you steadily inches towards blissful discomfort. Your heaving body was truly hanging in the balance now, entirely at his mercy (of which there seemed to be none) and your legs uselessly flex in the air when you squeeze them around his head. You could almost taste it in the back of your throat.

“Fuck! Right there …” you whine as you rock your pelvis against his mouth, the motion stiff and halting. “Right there, baby … I’m s - so - ooooh - close!”

Ogun grunts in approval and drags his tongue up to the top of your slit again, burying his face somehow even deeper into the cushiony give of your pussy. He glances at you, very briefly, from under the fall of dark lashes and the heady, masculine glint in those burnt gold irises sends a powerful shudder rippling down your spine. Your mouth drops open as if to scream but nothing comes out. For a worryingly long moment, it feels like you forgot how to breathe.

All you can do is watch on in thrumming suspense when he drops his gaze and gives his head a shake to jostle all the nerve endings in your cunt. The braids you’d worked on all day give a little bounce in their ponytail before settling again, and your eyes start to roll back when he flattens his tongue to your clit so he can grind down on it again. Static shoots through your system as you arch against him, so fitfully your back starts to ache in protest, but it was much too late. Nothing could stop it now, not even if you wanted to.

You suck in a haggard breath and the coil snaps, just like that. With an almost violent jerk, you devolve into a fit of convulsions that has you wailing up at the ceiling in total disregard for the upstairs neighbors. They probably heard you every time you and your boyfriend had sex but it’s not as if you could very well help it. Ogun was a talented individual by nature and that certainly transferred over into bedroom activities too.

Helpless, all you can do is cling to him through the full bodied tremors that shake you straight down to your core while he leisurely laps at your throbbing clit to ease you through it. He always seemed intent on milking your orgasms for all they were worth, and that certainly didn’t help your case with your neighbors either. It always felt like something of an out of body experience when he was the one going down on you and you couldn’t exactly say you disliked him for that.

The exact opposite, actually.

“Oh, god …”

With a stuttering groan, you slowly go limp as you come down from your high one piece of you at a time. It was hard to tell which jagged edges fit where, but you’re still acutely aware of the mess he’s made of your cunt when Ogun finally straightens and you feel a rush of fresh air hit your drenched slit. You shiver at the sensation and crack your eyes open to peer down at him, whimpering.

“You didn’t listen …”

Snorting a quiet laugh, he shifts against you and brings a hand up to swipe the glistening moisture from his mouth. “I only did what you initially asked for, sweetheart. That doesn’t mean I can’t give you the second request, too.”

Your lips curl in a warbling smile at that, and he grins right back.

Letting your head loll against the couch cushions, you contentedly watch as he brings your legs down off his shoulders so he can move to stand. Leaving you spread out and feeling like silly putty, he yanks his shirt over his head with one quick, fluid motion that makes his abdominals tantalizingly ripple before reaching for his pants next. He makes quick work of the button and then the fly, anticipation evident in his body language when he shoves them along with his underwear down to his feet.

Ogun’s thick cock bounces eagerly when he steps out of his discarded clothes, and the sight alone is enough to make your pussy clench tight. You still felt sensitive and over wrought, so fresh off the tail end of your orgasm, but that doesn’t stop you from moaning faintly at the sight of him.

You’d never known a more attractive man in all your life.

“Ogun …” You murmur, eyes slipping shut when your desire flares back at full force dizzyingly fast.

Your eyes immediately pop back open, however, when he slides his arms under your knees and leans forward to brace against the couch, folding you up like a pretzel. Your toes flex as you squirm underneath him, glancing down at your defenless little cunt with an excited squeak. Puffy lips can’t help but spread in this position and you easily catch sight of your swollen clit straining towards him in obvious need, not yet satisfied.

Hovering just a scant breath away, his straining cock - all silky smooth and heavy - twitches in anticipation, eager to sink into you. It doesn’t look like it's going to fit. It never does but, somehow or another, he always manages to squeeze every girthy inch of himself inside you and the thought alone has you throbbing in sharp, sporadic pulses.

It was almost embarrassing how fast you were bouncing back from the first round, but you can’t quite complain when you watch his hanging ballsack sway with the motion of getting himself situated and your pussy responds in kind with an intense pulse. He had the body of a breeder and you were sure he would’ve already had you heavy and round by now if only you weren’t on birth control. Maybe someday, though …

“Ogun …” You were starting to feel well and truly delirious now, and you reach up to dig your nails into his forearms for leverage to ground yourself with.

He doesn’t seem to mind it though, and he merely issues a soft grunt of acknowledgement as he rocks forward a bit to angle your defenseless pussy up at him more. You can feel yourself squeeze down and you groan, dazedly watching your own thighs flex in their bent up position but there was simply no way out of his hold now. The thought alone is enough to have you breathing out a stuttering puff of air, which you promptly choke on when he starts to lower his pelvis towards yours.

“Yes, yes, yes, please give it to me, I need it, I need it, please --”

You’re whining. You realize that on some level, but you’re much too consumed by this desperate hunger to have him rearranging your guts to care about that right now. It wouldn’t take Ogun long at all to have you creaming around him at this rate.

Unperturbed, he casually adjusts his position over top of you before swooping down to catch your babbling mouth in another heated kiss to silence you. The passionate force behind the gesture pushes your head back against the cushions and you relent, groaning into his lips as your hands fly up to offer his sides an encouraging squeeze.

Luxuriating under the strength of his body, you drag your palms up across his chest and higher still to grasp his shoulders. With a weak, halfhearted jut of your pelvis, you make a sad little attempt at angling your hips up enough to feel his leaking cockhead against your sticky cunt but it’s no use. He has you thoroughly pinned and at his mercy like this. His for the taking whenever he saw fit to skewer you on his sizable length and not a moment sooner.

It was too much.

You suddenly break from the kiss in favor of keening in soft desperation. He pulls back, stopping just long enough to regard you with that infuriatingly attractive, heavy lidded look before pointedly glancing between your bodies.

Slowly, you follow his lead only to swallow hard when his thighs flex forward and the underside of his cock skirts along your parted pussy lips. The crude way it bumps against your clit has you jolting at the sensation and clutching him all the more fervently. Your whole body positively shakes as Ogun shuffles his feet a little further apart and tries again, the bulbous glans slipping and sliding through petal soft folds once, twice - until it abruptly finds its mark on the third stroke.

Catching at your entrance, he pauses for a moment and then slowly starts to sink in. Your breath hitches, mouth opening on a silent scream as you watch the ruddy pink head slowly disappear into your body. The stretch is immediately felt, and it’s more than enough to make your greedy pussy flutter around the intrusion even as it gushes more sticky slick to ease the way.

But the more of him that slides into the gummy sleeve of your insides, the less good it does. He’s just too big - wider than he is long, yet still large enough to push your heaving body right to its limits. You hold your breath, head spinning, when he pushes further in and forces your squeezing passage to make room for him. More and more, until he’s about half of the way inside where he finally pauses to let you adjust.

You twitch, weakly writhing like a small animal caught in the merciless maw a steel trap. You were utterly powerless underneath him.

“Oh - Ogun! Fuck … fuck me - dear Sol, please just fuck me!”

He draws a slow, calming breath. “You’re still so tight, baby … I don’t want to hurt you.”

Whimpering, you reach between your legs and wrap trembling fingers around the base of him. Ogun moans after a few awkward pumps of your hand and tilts his face up at the ceiling, basking in the sensation of you jerking him while he’s half wedged inside your body.

It must feel good because it takes him a prolonged moment to get his bearings again and when he does, he carefully eases himself back just enough to give a tiny thrust forward. You can feel the moment he slips in a little deeper than before and you guide him into it, one sedate thrust at a time. When you stroke up, he pulls back and when you stroke down, he pushes into you. It’s a maddeningly cohesive rhythm that has you panting like a bitch in heat long before he finally slides home and you outright choke when the fronts of his thighs settle against the backs of yours a small eternity later.

“Shit,” He hisses, brows knitting as he peers down to admire the sight of his pelvis flush against yours. “That’s a tight fit … how’re you doing, sweetheart? It’s not too much, is it?”

You give your head a numb shake and roll your eyes up at him, teasing your fingertips through the mess of curls at the base of his groin while you do it. Words couldn’t even come close to describing how stuffed full you felt, but you loved it.

“N - no … it’s perfect … feels - ngh - good …”

Smiling, Ogun dips his face close to press his mouth to your forehead in a chastely sweet kiss. He stays like that as he carefully angles back until just the tip remains and then, so slowly you can feel it in your bones, he pushes back in. The drag is exquisite and it feels like you’re practically suffocating on the intense pleasure of every solid inch, each throbbing vein. You could feel it all.

A wordless cry of pleasure bursts out of you when he slides back out and in again at that same staggered pace. He’s so big you can feel the pressure on your cervix and when he wiggles his hips, grinding into you, oh god, it feels like he’s pushing the glans right on that raised ring of puckered flesh. Your mouth drops open but nothing comes out. It was hard just to keep your eyes focused anymore.

Haltingly, he starts up a gradual but steady pace as your body adjusts around the intrusion and makes room for him, your pulpy walls clinging to the length of him on each drawn out stroke. It comes as a great relief, particularly when the building pressure swells into high strung arousal and replaces the initial discomfort of being stretched right to the breaking point.

In a matter of moments, the sticky wet clicking that noises each time your pussy sucks him in deep on the downward thrust comes to dominate the living room. The sound of it only seems highlighted by your sensitive bleating and the husky groans slipping out of him, the drone of the tv so much an afterthought now that you forgot it was even on. Even when he picks up enough speed to drive the fronts of his thighs against your upturned ass, creating a sharp, fleshy slap, it’s nothing compared to the hungry slurping of your cunt.

You probably would’ve been embarrassed by the whole thing if only it didn’t feel like he was spearing you straight down the middle. It made your eyes cross, mouth hanging open in doped out bliss while you cling and clutch at him for dear life. There wasn’t a single inch of you that he didn’t touch like this and it lit up every nerve ending along the way like a goddamn firework.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think he was going to break you in half.

“Such a pretty baby. Look how well you’re taking my cock ....”

You gasp. “Hnng, s’so big …!”

“And you’re taking all of it,” he murmurs, just this side of breathless. “Like a champ. Do you have any idea how good you look right now? Huh?”

You warble out an incomprehensible response, far too overwhelmed and riveted by the way Ogun’s cock glistens obscenely every time it makes another appearance between your thighs. Your fingers dig into his forearms, leaving crescent shaped marks in his skin and try not to scream in ecstasy while he carves out a space within you.

You loved watching him fuck you like this for a multitude of reasons, the most pressing at the moment being that it drove you absolutely wild.

“If you keep squeezing me like that … ngh, I won’t last much longer.” He warns, his tone far too strained to hold even a hint of real reprimand.

“I want it,” you blubber wetly. “I want it, Ogun, please …”

“You want me to cum in you?”

A jerky nod accompanied by a mewling whimper.

He lets out a shaky breath as the speed of his thrusts quicken and you jerk underneath him, bleating like something wounded. The muscles in his arms flex and twitch around you when he smoothly adjusts the positioning of his hands, hunching further over you without so much as missing a beat.

“God, you drive me crazy …”

You’d like to tell him the feeling is mutual but you don’t get the chance. A particularly sharp snap of his hips knocks something loose inside you and you uncontrollably shake, legs kicking up uselessly at the air with a wordless noise of soaring pleasure. Cumming again doesn’t seem like such a far off possibility and a frazzled whine claws at the back of your throat when he presses his sweat slick forehead against yours, prompting you to glance up.

Ogun’s eyes were always beautiful to look at but especially so when you were staring into them from just a hair's breadth away and they were clouded dark with primal need as well something much more weighty.

“Tell me you want it, sweetheart. Tell me.”

“I - ngh - aaaahh, I want your cum, Ogun! I need you to fill me uh - up, please, I want it so baaad!”

A shudder races through him and he groans, eyes slipping shut for a brief moment as if to get his bearings before cracking open again. Keeping his forehead against yours, he tilts his head down to look between the two of you and, once again, you follow suit.

The sinfully rich color of his cock, just a shade or two darker than the rest of him, looks all the more tantalizing coated in your slick. You’ve all but drenched him at this point, the tight curls that frame his length visibly damp and matted together now. You suck in a frazzled breath at the sight, your head spinning alarmingly fast when the building pressure in your gut becomes almost too much to withstand. How was it that one single man could make you feel so primal with need but tenderly cared for at the same time?

“I - -“ You all but choke on it, wheezing at the next stroke. “I’m gonna’ - ahh, cum again … don’t stop!”

“I’m about to cum too, sweetheart.” With a soft groan, he lifts his attention to pin you with a heady look of challenge. “Think we can cum together?”

You frantically nod. “Uh huh!”

The corner of Ogun’s mouth twitches at that, settling into a lazy smirk as he shifts back and slows the motion of his hips. You can’t help groaning in disappointment but you realize what he’s doing quickly enough when he lets up his hold on your legs so he can lower himself down to lay out on top of you. Working his arms under your overheated back, he practically crushes you to the front of him and you bring your own up to wrap them around his neck.

This new position increases the pressure in your guts by a noticeable margin and the air rushes out of you with a stuttering sigh when he crawls up onto the edge of the couch to pin your thighs under his weight. Your legs are just as useless as before, twitching impotently in the air when he eases his hips back as far as he can. He doesn’t make it far, just enough to feel the drag and the subsequent plunge, but it makes you cry out all the same.

Face shoved into your hair, Ogun lets loose a series of heavy grunts when he picks up his earlier pace and the same sticky clicking rises in the air again. It’s much less deafening this time, softer by virtue of his shorter strokes, and you gratefully clutch him against you, glad to hold onto him.

“You feel so good …” he groans, making you shudder at the puff of hot air against your neck.

You can’t quite find your voice though, and you respond with a faltering moan that has him twitching inside you. The thick bands of musculature across his shoulders dance under your fingers each time he moves, emphasizing the raw strength in his lithe body. And yet he was still being careful with you, the plunge of his cock as carefully measured as before so as not to slam against your cervix but still tease it.

It wasn’t even that he was unreasonably large but, rather, he just so happened to fit you like a glove and that was perhaps the most arousing part of all.

“Ogun,” you finally manage to whimper. “Mm’ gonna’ cum …”

“Me too …”

The quietly stricken groan that comes out of him next makes your toes curl. You clench around him in a palpitating flutter, so close to the edge it brought the sting of tears to your eyes. His hips stutter at the squeeze and he trembles against you, struggling to keep up the subdued thrusting he’d settled into.

It quickly proves futile when his body tenses up with a low, faltering moan that rattles so deep you feel it in your cunt. The air catches in your throat and you squeeze him with your arms across his back and your legs around his narrow waist, clutching him to you as he lurches. Blunt fingers dig into your skin and he gives a little jerk, issuing a sucker punched wheeze seconds before you feel the rush of hot seed flooding your cunt.

You tremble wildly, nails clawing into his back when the sensation of Ogun shooting thick ropes against your gummy walls makes your muscles clamp around him hard enough to send you over the edge. Writhing in bliss, you stutter out a groan that he matches with one of his own while the two of you quake through your orgasms as one.

It was transcendental in a way you never would have thought possible.

Dropping his face to the couch cushions when you finally start to grow still underneath him some moments later, he issues a rumbling sound of satisfaction. The ragged quality of your panting quickly rushes in to replace the sticky wet squelching of your cunt, and you go boneless while you try to catch your breath. That was a lot easier said than done though and he, predictably, recovers much quicker than you.

“I’m surprised we really managed to pull that off.” He hums in contentment and turns his face to kiss at your ear, teasingly soft. “That’s a first.”

“And hopefully not the last.” You wheeze, making him chuckle.

“You liked it then, I take it?”

Dislodging your cramping fingers from his back with a certain amount of effort, you bring your hand up to push the hair from your face. “It was amazing … intense. I didn’t think we could do it either.”

Ogun lifts his head to press his mouth to your check, your nose, the spot between your eyes, all with a big smile on his face. “I’m glad we did. I promise I’ll try my best to make it happen again but no promises, okay?”

You can’t quite stop from giggling. “Don’t worry. I have faith in you.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Pausing long enough to give your ribs an affectionate pinch, he carefully pushes up from the couch and leans back. His softened cock slips out of you in the process, and you internally wince at the dribble of hot cum that oozes from you without him there to stopper it.

You draw your legs up to keep the mess to a minimum when he stands, gleaming eyes taking in the sight of you curled up on your couch with his semen leaking down the crease of your pussy for a prolonged beat. And then, he grins.

“Wanna’ get cleaned up and I’ll order that pizza?”

“How am I supposed to think about food after all that?” You pout at him.

Sending a sly look down at the spot between your thighs, Ogun starts to turn towards the bathroom. “I’ll get you a rag. I’m sure you’ll realize just how hungry you are once the adrenaline wears off. Besides, you should probably refuel before I try to give you an encore.”

Smiling at that, you appreciatively glance down at his tight ass before he disappears through the doorway. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind he’d be able to pull it off.

[certifiedskywalker]

Sweet Rest - Diego Hargreeves

Anonymous said: Could you write something with Diego and a NB reader? I’m kinda ✨ projecting ✨ Maybe like idk, reader is studying history at uni and just domestic fluff? In the theme of projecting please could NB have a completely shaved head and loads of facial piercings? Please? 💛

AN: I didn’t want to get too specific, as not to exclude too many readers, but I hope I managed to capture the fluff you desired!

This also serves as a PSA to my fellow students: TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES! I’ve been attending my courses online and I forget to get up to move around get water. Grades are not the ‘end-all be-all’ as my mother has said. Your health, mental, emotional, and physical, comes first.

So, be kind to yourself and remember to take breaks! Read some fanfiction! Have a snack! Do what you have to do!

You had been hunched over your desk for hours now. Bleary eyed and tired, you glanced at the clock and cringed. When you started to study, it had been light outside. It was the first sunny day in ages and you were stuck inside with school work. Now, you could see the soft oranges of the sunset turning a murky grey-green. With a groan, you leaned down and laid your head on your desk, using your arms as a makeshift pillow. 

The moment you closed your eyes, your body seemed to melt with relief. A pounding in your head, a headache you did not notice before you relaxed on the desk, ceased. Gently, you rolled your shoulders and neck to find that the joints were stiff from lack of movement. You shoved have taken a moment to stretch. Even a little walk around your room to get your blood flowing. 

Hindsight is a blessing and a curse; you would stretch next time.

At the thought of doing more work tomorrow, you felt your body tense up once more. Stinging behind your eyes were tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. In an attempt to quell them, you forced yourself to take a deep, slow breath. After a set of five breaths, you were beginning to feel your body unwind again. 

Sadly, before you could totally relax, the loud slamming of a door broke your concentration. Slightly frightened by the sound, you swiftly lifted your head up to see what, or who, had entered your room.

“You’re still at it?”

Your eyes softened at the sight of Diego standing in the doorway. His dark eyes were squinted as his brow furrowed in concern. You merely nodded in response. 

The quiet reply was enough for Diego to drop the overnight bag he always brought to your place beside the door. Within seconds, he had strode over to you with reaching hands. When his fingers found your shoulders and began to rub them, you had to fight to hold in a moan.

“Maybe it’s time for a break,” he suggested as he dug his thumbs into the sore muscles of your upper back. You leaned into his touch, tender yet rough.

“Maybe,” you agreed. Diego continued to work the ache from your bones. Under his touch, all your stresses seemed so far away. Though, the moment his hands left your body, it all came rushing back. The mental check list of everything you needed to do before the end of the week rolled through your head. “But I have history assignments yet to do.”

“Y/N,”  Diego pressed, turning your chair so that you were no longer facing your desk but him. “Please, it’s getting late and I can tell you’re tired.”

“The course work-”

“Can wait. Come to bed with me.”

Warm, curving with his breath, Diego’s words sent your heart aflutter. Before you could even try to protest or deny his invitation, Diego pressed his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck. The instant his lips made contact with your flesh, you knew you would completely surrender to him. When he pulled away, you turned to meet his gaze. Diego gave you a sly, and knowing, half-smile.

“The work will be here tomorrow.”

You wanted to point out that the due dates would too; the ever looming shadow until the end of the semester. Yet, Diego, who knew all your weak spots, knew how to pull your worry away. He pressed another kiss to your neck, then another, and another. He tilted your head with a careful hand and, smiling lazily, he kissed your lips. 

“Fine.”

You felt Diego pull away but you kept your eyes closed. “Now, that’s what I like to hear: pure, loving reluctance.”

A small laugh escaped you and you opened your eyes. Diego was smiling down at you. He smiled still as he pecked your cheek and pulled away. Strong hands rubbed at your shoulders before you watched Diego walk towards your bed. Unceremoniously, he threw himself on the mattress. From the impact, Diego bounced slightly and his head fell against the pillow.

“You’re not one for cuddling,” you said, letting your chin rest against the back of your chair. You would get up to lay with Diego soon; for now, you just wanted to look at him. Laying in your bed, limbs stretched out and waiting for you to join him. His dark eyes were slightly hooded and his lips were parted in a lazy smile. How sweet he looked; how sweet his was.

“When my partner looks so tired, it’s hard to not want to.” Diego raised an arm and gestured to the empty side of the bed. “Join me.”

Limbs heavy from sitting all day, you nearly trembled as you stood up. With every step you took away from your desk, you felt your shoulder grow lighter. It was as if you were trudging through cold, overwhelming waves to reach the beach, the sand that was glowing with warmth. When you reached the edge of your bed, Diego did not hesitate to reach up and pull you to him.

You fell by his side, curling into the warmth emanating from his body. Diego was always warm. He joked about how it was because he lived and worked in the gym. There was no avoiding the heat of muscles moving. When he wasn’t cleaning or helping out customers, he was working out too. It showed in his arms, lean but strong as they encircled you.

“You work too hard.” 

You moved your head to rest on Diego’s chest, far enough away so that you could still look into his eyes. Giving him an incredulous look, you fired back, “says the night-time vigilante.”

“That’s my free time, I choose to do that,” Diego countered. You laughed and shook your head against him. When you looked back up at him, you saw that Diego was already staring at you with pure adoration in his dark eyes.

For a moment, you felt self-conscious but there was no way you could hide with your arms wedged so snugly around Diego. Also, a part of you did not want to hide. Diego had seen you through good days and bad days. Those long nights where you doubted yourself, your identity, or where you were overcome with intense dysphoria. It was Diego that helped you cut your hair short, walked you to appointments, and, like tonight, made sure you took breaks. 

You knew he loved you, and you loved him, but there were minutes, fleeting seconds, when you felt like you were his responsibility. As if he felt obligated to be with you because he had come this far. The thought always struck your chest, your heart, terribly hard. What would he rather be doing with the time he spent with you? You dared to ask him. 

“Then what do you call this time?” As you asked, you gestured to your tangled bodies splayed out across your bed. Diego took a moment, drinking in the softness of your face. From the worry lines that formed in his features, you knew that he could tell your thoughts were racing.

“I call this,” he grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, “my favorite time. There’s no place I would rather be than right here, with you.”

A small, embarrassed smile spread along your lips as Diego kissed your knuckles. He met your gaze as he did and you shook your head. No matter what your worries made you think or feel, Diego always put your mind and heart at ease. With a gentle squeeze of your hand, he pulled you closer into his side so that your head was firmly rested against his chest. 

His other arm, tucked under your neck, wrapped around you. Comfortable warmth surrounded you and you never wanted to leave. You closed your eyes as Diego’s hand rubbed up and down your back. Even through your sweater, you could feel the slight heat of his palm. The warmth trailed after his hand as he rubbed your scalp.

“Want a hair cut soon?”

“Mm, maybe.” You had been so caught up in university, you barely had a chance to look in the mirror. There was, in a sense, no time to reflection; on anything, really.

“Let me know,” he said softly, “you know I like to help.” A laugh rumbled in your chest and you opened your eyes to met Diego’s gaze.

“You just like holding the scissors.”

“That’s not true. I like the clippers too.”

“Any sharp object really,” you joked. Diego squeezed your side and tickled you.

 You jerked in his arms in an attempt to pull away. Laughing made your escape difficult and, taking advantage of your weakened state, Diego moved over you. With his heads, on either side of your head, Diego was positioned above you, caging you beneath his body. You beamed up at him, reaching your arms up to wrap around the back of his neck. Lightly, you scratched the back of his head, feeling the short hair at the nape. Diego looked down at you with such longing that you thought he wasn’t real. Maybe you were just imagining him here, above you, smiling softly at you. 

Then, Diego leaned down and captured your lips with his. It was deep, messy, but perfectly real; just like you and Diego. When he pulled away, he did so slowly so he could still savor the feeling that lingered. You smiled up at him, bringing one of you heads to the side of his face. Diego opened his eyes and leaned into your touch.

“Thank you.”

Diego cocked his head at your words. “For what?”

“Everything,” you replied. “For making me take a break, for being here.”

“Like I said: there’s no where I would rather be.” Without missing a beat, Diego leaned down and kissed you again. When your eyes closed, you saw every night of your future. In the evenings, like this one, it was just you and Diego. No worries, no stress, just sweet rest.

[bm-american-art]

The Penny Bridge, Isabel Lydia Whitney, 1927-1928, Brooklyn Museum: American Art

Brooklyn Heights, circa 1927. View showing Penny Bridge with underpass to old Wall Street Ferry [Montague Street]. At left, the wing of the Litchfield House where Mr. Litchfield kept his collection of armor now in the Metropolitan Museum. At extreme right, huse originally owned by A.A. Low. On the balcony through field glasses the owner of the fleet of clipper ships used to watch the "tea races" as the shops full sail came up the harbor bringing their cargoes of tea after the long voyages around the Horn. In the distance are the Staten Island ferry slips, an ocean going liner and the Manhattan skycrapers. Size: 18 3/16 x 24 in. (46.2 x 61 cm) Medium: Oil on canvas

https://www.brooklynmuseum.org/opencollection/objects/1106

[turtlepated]

The Ghost and the She-wolf

Inspired by the Mafia!Beej personas of the wonderful @monsterlovinghours, please enjoy this little something about Zhuk. 

Zhuk and the Mafia!Beejs belongs to @monsterlovinghours, she just very sportingly let me play pirates with him.

It’s a pirate’s life for me, yo-ho.

---

Part 1 –

 You were the youngest captain of the Royal Navy, no meager achievement. On top of that, you were the first female graduate of the academy, earning your title with commendations and honors that you had worked hard and tirelessly to secure. In light of this you’d been placed in command of a newly built ship: the Invictus, a sleek, three-masted frigate designed to marry speed and power, armed with fourteen 24-pounder guns and a pair of long nine ranged cannons astern. Your primary mission was to protect the shipping lanes and wealthy port towns against pirates and to capture as many of the seagoing criminals as possible. You set your sights on the most feared one of all: the one they called призрак, prizrak, “the ghost”. Braver souls referred to him in reverent whispers as Zhuk, but the name was of no consequence to you. His ship, the Perperuna, had been wreaking havoc with merchant trading routes all over the Pacific and you would see to it that he was brought to justice. 

Thus began a long and frustrating series of engagements in which you came close, so very close to victory only for Zhuk to escape at the last moment. The Perperuna was smaller than you’d expected, and expertly manned by her captain. Zhuk, you were loathe to admit, was a shrewd and perceptive adversary. More than once he outmaneuvered the Invictus, using his clipper’s smaller size and greater agility to his advantage. The bastard seemed almost able to smell your best laid traps and evade or rout them. The trick was to keep up with him long enough for the Invictus’s artillery to deal sufficient damage to disable the Perperuna and allow you to get close enough to board and take him on face-to-face. While also managing to withstand the onslaught of return fire from Zhuk’s own armament.

The Invictus’s long nines were employed often when Zhuk managed to outdistance you. The twin guns came with a longer range and improved accuracy, but thus far neither of you had been unable to deliver a decisive blow. As your game of cat and mouse dragged on and on, you had to consider that Zhuk might well be playing with you. Just the thought made your blood boil. You resolved then and there that the next time you met would be the last, one way or another.

Rumor was that the Perperuna had been spotted south around the Strait of Malacca, so you set a course. Sure enough the Russian pirate turned up in Singapore and you launched a hot pursuit once again, determined to catch him or die trying. As ever the Invictus, fleet as she was, could not quite keep up with Zhuk so you took a gamble, loading the long nines with chain-shot before the Perperuna was too far out of range. You hoped that the higher accuracy of the long nine guns would balance out the inherent instability of the chain-shot, but it wasn’t quite in keeping with accepted battle tactics. You were desperate to end this chase, so you ordered the crew to fire. In the aftermath of the deafening volley the deck of the Invictus fell silent as everyone aboard watched the shot tumble through the air in a merciless arc towards the Perperuna. Even from your place at the helm near the stern, you could hear the ripping of sails and the splintering of wood as the chain-shot did its job, tearing through rigging and snapping lines, killing the clipper’s forward momentum. A cheer went up from the crew as the Perperuna began to visibly lose speed. Unable to keep the triumphant smile off your face you called for the crewmen to arm themselves and prepare to board as the Invictus closed in.  

But there was no way to prepare for what came next. It began as an almost imperceptible shudder that caused the deck to tremble underfoot, as though the keel were dragging along a sandbar or reef. It grew quiet again on deck as your crew paused in their tasks, exchanging bewildered expressions. Seawater gushed over the railing by the bucketful as a massive, monstrous head broke the surface of the water with a terrifying cry like rending metal. Vaguely reptilian, it stretched up and up on a long neck as thick in diameter as two men, covered in glittering scales the color of slate, towering over the deck amidships. One sailor screamed in horror, snapping the other men out of their stupor and they scrambled to aim their weapons at the monster and opened fire, too frightened to even wait for your signal. Even you could barely register what you were seeing; a real live sea serpent, straight out of the myths and legends. The barrage of gunfire did not phase the serpent, which lunged out with liquid speed and snatched a man up in its jaws with a chilling, wet crunch before it arced clear over the deck like a breaching whale, coiling its long sinewy body all the way around the Invictus before surfacing again back on the starboard side. 

You drew your own pistol, already understanding what was about to happen unless by some miracle the monster was killed before it was too late. You screamed for the men to take up their arms and fire on it again even as the ship groaned under your feet. The sea serpent remained unaffected by your best efforts, slowly, maliciously constricting its gigantic coils until the air was filled with the sound of breaking wood and screaming men. The Invictus, your beloved “unbeatable” ship, held out as long as she could before imploding in the monster’s grip, sending you flying against the rail as others fell overboard or into the jagged openings where deck boards had ripped free under the pressure. The main-mast was snapped in two with a crack like thunder, slamming onto the deck of the mortally wounded vessel as those men still on their feet were forced to throw themselves out of the way. 

Water was gushing into the bowels of the ship, you could already hear it. You grit your teeth, biting back a furious howl as your heart hammered in your throat. You were all doomed, there was no getting around it. Those who managed to survive the sinking would doubtless be devoured by the monster. But you would not go down without a fight. You still had time before water reached the powder magazine, so you ran there as quick as you were able. Through the thick wooden door were crates and barrels of potent black gunpowder, which you opened and threw about in handfuls, carrying a small cask with you as you backed out of the room, leaving a trail. Your one-shot pistol, useless now, you used to light the trail before racing back up to the deck. You hoped that the blast killed the beast or at least killed you; better a quick death than the agony of drowning. Though if you at least hurt the damned thing you would die satisfied. 

When the powder magazine went up you were propelled into the air by the force of the explosion and time slowed to a crawl. You could see great gouts of flame roaring up from the depths of your ship, the frozen, terrified faces of your crew, the gaping red maw of the monster as fire engulfed it. You hit the water and the breath was knocked from your lungs. Stunned, you began to sink and had no energy or strength to move your arms and legs to save yourself. Without air, your vision was already darkening around the edges. Just before you lost consciousness, you could have sworn you saw a hulking man-shaped figure splash into the water above you and swimming hard toward you. Your eyes lingered on what looked like an outstretched hand before blackness swallowed you. 

----

No ETA yet on Part two, but Captain Zhuk has tapped on some primal, seafaring instinct deep in my brain so there will be more. 

[UPDATE!: here’s Part 2 !]

Hope you enjoyed!

[geologyedinburgh]

A walk along the Seaton Cliffs

A walk along the Seaton Cliffs

I walk across the cliffs of Angus from the smokie town o’ Arbroath, Towards the fishing cottages of Auchmithie, In-between lie mighty cliffs, Of sandstone and conglomerate adrift. Great features litter the coast: Needle E’e, Mermaid’s Kirk, Deil’s Heid and The Sphinx, With the Masons’ Cave hiding many a secret! The wind howls through the caves and stone arches like a ghostly piper, Labyrinths running out to the open seas for 15,000 years. The ocean like a great mason carved out the cliffs, Before hand, the ice shaped the coast, When its miles tall blanket covered Scotland…

The Sun is sinking, quick, bellow the horizon where the water and the land meet.

The rocks are divided into the two, like the mainland of Caledonia, The Lower Devonian is blood red, cross bedded sandstone, 410 million years old! With the middle missing, an Unconformity! Millions of years cast into the wind! The Upper Devonian is all conglomerate, 370 million years old when Scotland was at the equator under the tropical sun! The nation was part of an auld continent in the name of Laurentia, While England was part of the continent Avalonia, Both nations an ocean apart, Until the seas of the Iapetus closed under miles of grinding rock, Giving birth to volcanoes, mountain ranges, Beaches upon which life first walked, Tiny little lizards, tetrapods, Now little fossils in the river beds, hidden in Romer’s gap. Trapping many little worlds of stone, The multi coloured little pebble clasts, in the conglomerate contain many a wonder, From Granites to the odd Metamorphics, years in the billions, All from mountains as tall as the Himalayas, Now long gone, carried away by mighty rivers.

Dusk has came, as the Sun is gone, with seagulls settling back into their nests, Salty air tingles the nostrils with a bit of seaweed mixed in, The gentle sounds of the ocean splash away at the feet of the cliffs. Like an orchestra playing a tune, it is the song of the sea.

The cliffs play a testimony to the history of Scotland, My mind’s eye fill with the spirits of the past: … A Roman, in full armour just walked past, observing the fleet of Agricola as they sail up to Aberdeen. … A group of Picts are in a hurry to raise a tall standing stone with the Cross of St. Columba, … Viking armada, full of brave Danes, sails on the harbour, drums pounding, a guide through the cliffs. … Suddenly a monk shuffles past, rail lines run into the cliffs, as workmen cut stone for the new Abbey. … King Robert the Bruce, looks out onto the shores, as a boat, with a Declaration leaves for Avignon. … Ralph the Rover cuts down the Abbot’s warning bell over the Inchcape Rock, later, sealing his own doom! … A marry band of soldiers singing in Gaelic, clad in Tartan, march down the road for the rising of ’45, … Followed by Robert Burns as he profusely takes notes, grumbling about the weather in Scots. … Men with torches rush past me, as down below, screams, baskets lowered, to haul mariners to safety. … Sir Walter Scott rides past on horseback, as he is seeking the Inn Waverley, in Auchmithie. … Suddenly in the far distance, a blinking, pulsating light, the Bell Rock lighthouse rises out of the sea, … The Cutty Sark, the clipper ship, races across the waters, bringing tea from the Far East, … Sails give away to steam, as wood gives away to metal hull, a fishing fleet presses ahead, … The RNLI lifeboat speeds out onto open water, towards the souls, onboard the wrecked HMS Argyll, … In the sky, two Spitfires pursue a Messerschmitt, a kill shot, as the Iron Cross crashes into the fields. … As I walk ahead, a group of young lads carry the Stone of Destiny, as they disappear into the haar… I am alone again on the wide-open coastal path.

The full Moon is up in the sky, reflecting on the tranquil ocean, as it lights my path.

As I head away into the night, I hear the reverberation of a ghostly sound:

A native of Arbroath, the voice of Andy Stewart, echoing through the cliffs: “But gin ye permit me, tae gang a wee bit-tie, I’d show you the road, and the miles to Dundee…”

[absme]

shakoorphoto.com

The Royal Docks a spectacular finale celebration as the Clipper Round the World Yacht Race finish event take place next to Royal Albert Dock in Newham, England,

[ghooulfriend]

> Square Up

>   Fight your feelings, swallow your pride and some hard to swallow pills.

>   Call me later, he assures you through a mouth full of blood. We can hang out, or something.

>  You aren’t sure if he’s messing with you, or if he hopes that you decline. But you of all people should know better than to think that.

Laid out like a cheap rug, beaten and bleeding, you keep your back pressed to the hardwood floor of your main den- as you listen to the sound of fleeting footsteps exit your hive. Soon after, the distinctive faint whines of the transportalizer-pad declare to the outside of his departure.

Leaving you alone with your importunate thoughts, a messy hive, and a possibly broken nose.

He did one hell of a number on you, but then again the decaying patches of skin on his body says that he wasn’t the only heavy hitter.

Five minutes pass you by—maybe even more, ten at most—before you will yourself to stand. A migraine is coming on, you can feel it, as you work your way back up on your feet. You glanced blankly down at the smears of red and blue staining the face of your shirt—four buttons missing, and now most likely scattered across the front block—before scanning the room to locate your gloves an slip them back where they belong. No longer do you feel exposed, out in the open in a way you consider too vulnerable once your hands are re-gloved. Your knuckles sting and ache when the tired leather runs against now tender flesh, but you don't care enough to dress your wounds.

The taste of copper is still on the tip of your tongue, unpleasant but for different reasons.

The current state of your main block is the first task to get your attention, sweeping diligently at every corner until you were satisfied. You rearrange your furniture, adjust the decorations, yet nothing seems to keep your thoughts from bringing back your earlier exchanges. You weren't expecting Deluxe to show up on your doorstep; sour-faced, fists balled so tight that you could see the white to his knuckles. When he demanded a fight, you—for obvious reasons—hesitated and stared at him as if he had grown a second head. You asked him why and when he tells you, your heart began to sink.

"Because," he began. "It's not going to work out until we fight it out. You hurt me Eridan, and I don't think this is something that can be fixed with words alone." You wanted to curl in on yourself, then Deluxe continued. "Your shit always ends up hurting me anyway, so maybe you want to just cut out the middleman now." You open your mouth to say something only to close it in defeat, as there was nothing you could say to that.

He sets the ground rules, the important one being that he wants you to fight him truthfully and to not hold back, going as far as to make you remove your gloves.

The fight itself was clumsy, to say the least, just two inexperienced wet-chickens throwing punches at each other until the other collapsed— which you both did. Neither of you specialized in close-ranged combat, long-ranged fights with planned tactics had been your specialty, while traps planned ahead of time was his.

He doesn't even stick around when its over.

It wasn't your fault, is what you'd tell yourself right about now in a last-ditch effort to save what was left of your bruised ego. Cradle it with kind words only you would give to yourself. But doubt and guilt plague you, just enough to make you question your methods, just enough to make you think back and face what it was that brought you to this point. You remember the one-sided conversation you had with Aradia, the one where you did most of the talking with little to no listening. When she said that you were clingy, you didn't think that it held any weight, but the longer you dwell on her words, the deeper the pit in your digestive sac grows.

You retreat to your nutrition block and begin to poke around the drawers beneath the countertop, finally unearthing a pair of clippers from the clutter of appliances. You then direct yourself to the plants by your windowsill, managing its growth by trimming away at stray stems. Anything to keep you busy.

After a while, you stop, clippers still in hand as you let out a heavy sigh and hunch yourself over the sink. Your thoughts are racing, not even your every night routine could help you curve the guilt and the pain in your chest. From the corner of your eye, you notice something out of the ordinary; your hallway was different but in a familiar sense. You've seen this hallway many times before, and you'll probably see it many times more, seeing as this was the hallway on the second floor of your hive.

You curse under your breath before straightening your posture, reaching into your front pocket for you palmhusk.

You can't be alone tonight— you don't want to be alone tonight. You trust yourself so little, that, you resort to relying on the company of someone who you can't imagine agreeing to your invitation, but are depending on their acceptance none the less. You wait patiently for a response, and when you finally get one, you feel a bit calmer than you did before. Pocketing your mobile device, you exit your kitchen in favor of your bathroom to freshen up.

You can't greet her when you look like roadkill.

[ecotone99]

In Honor of Rosa Parks on the Anniversary of the Montgomery Bus Boycott

In Honor of Rosa Parks on the Anniversary of the Montgomery Bus Boycott By Erica Kato

Today, we unveiled a plaque in honor of Rosa Parks on the anniversary of the Montgomery Bus Boycott. The boycott was sparked by Rosa Parks keeping her historic seat, and we wanted to commemorate that spirit here in San Francisco. District 10 Supervisor Shamann Walton joined us at one of our bus yards for the event. Later in the day, the bus headed out to serve customers on the 19 Polk Line, which is a line on part of our Muni Equity Strategy.

The Muni Service Equity Strategy is one component of the agency's commitment to make transit accessible and affordable to all of our customers.

The Muni Service Equity Strategy focuses on improving transit performance in San Francisco neighborhoods with high percentages of households with low incomes and people of color. The neighborhoods were selected based on the percentage of households with low incomes, private vehicle ownership, race and ethnicity demographics. As part of the analysis, SFMTA staff reviewed Clipper data to identify routes heavily used by seniors and people with disabilities.

The project team is currently connecting with stakeholders in each Equity Neighborhood to better understand their transit challenges. Examples include, are there specific times in the day where it is hard to get around and what locations are hard to reach by public transit? The project team will then analyze whether there is overlap from the key needs that were initially produced in 2016 and the needs that were disclosed during the public outreach process.

We plan to install another commemorative plaque on an LRV serving the T-Third Line later this year. Be on the lookout for a wider rollout of bus cards across the Muni fleet highlighting Ms. Parks and her contributions to public transit during Black History Month in February.

Published December 06, 2019 at 12:48AM https://ift.tt/2Rpxv0U via Blogger https://ift.tt/2OVY9wI

[yasbxxgie]

One of California’s last black enclaves threatened by Inglewood’s stadium deal

Inglewood has come a long way since Dr. Dre proclaimed in the ’90s that it was “always up to no good.”

A surge of economic development is wiping away its reputation as a battle zone for rival gangs and promises to remake the city not only into a sports and entertainment mecca but also a cultural destination.

But now that Inglewood is on the come up, longtime residents and city officials face a different challenge: Many who have weathered decades of hardship no longer can afford to live there and are being left out of the economic renaissance.

Donald Martin, 67, lost the roof over his head after a new landlord evicted him with just 60 days’ notice from the building he had lived in for almost a decade.

Tomisha Pinson, who lives next door to the new L.A. Rams and Chargers stadium and entertainment complex, received a notice that the monthly rent on her two-bedroom Inglewood apartment would spike from $1,145 to $2,725.

“It makes you feel pushed out, like, ‘We don’t need you guys no more, the upper class is going to be moving in,’ ” said Pinson, 43, a mother of two who takes in foster children.

As home prices soar and rents rise, Inglewood is struggling to meet its goal of encouraging more investment while trying to preserve one of California’s last remaining African American enclaves.

“Inglewood is the ‘City of Champions’ and like all good champions, Inglewood is rising again,” said Daniel Tabor, a former mayor and councilman. “But it has been a missed opportunity for economic participation by the residents and local businesses.”

Not long ago, the city was struggling with decades of decline exacerbated by the loss of two economic engines, the Lakers and Hollywood Park racetrack. Now, the white skeleton of the $2.6-billion NFL stadium and entertainment district is rising along Century Boulevard. Plans for a new L.A. Clippers arena are crystallizing. A $14.5-million Frank Gehry-designed home for the L.A. Philharmonic’s youth orchestra is underway, and the Girl Scouts of Greater Los Angeles moved its regional headquarters to Inglewood last February.

“We all know when the Girl Scouts come, it’s all over,” Mayor James T. Butts Jr. joked to a group of homeowners last year. In his view, the Scouts’ arrival pins a badge of safety on his city, in turn luring still more investment.

All these attractions will become easier to visit with next year’s scheduled opening of the $2-billion, 8.5-mile Crenshaw light rail line.

But activists are pressing City Hall, demanding officials do more to protect residents against ballooning rents. In March, the city adopted a temporary cap on increases and evictions. But some say the measure is too little, too late.

Uplift Inglewood, a tenants’ rights group, is suing the city and a developer to halt construction of the Clippers arena, a project that would allow the city to use eminent domain to confiscate property at the southwest corner of Century Boulevard and Prairie Avenue. The lawsuit alleges that the city’s proposed sale of public land to build the Clippers project violates state law that requires prioritizing the use of such land for affordable housing.

D’Artagnan Scorza, 38, who sits on the city’s school board, said he helped create Uplift Inglewood to give a voice to vulnerable renters. He knows their plight. When he was a grade-schooler, his family was evicted from their Inglewood townhouse; they couldn’t afford the rent.

Although he supports the football stadium project, he wants to use it to leverage development and investment to benefit blacks and Latinos, who account for an estimated 42% and 51%, respectively, of Inglewood residents.

“We wanted to be a model for investment without displacement,” Scorza said. “We didn’t want that capital to come in and flood out the folk who live here.”

***

At the center of the fray is Mayor Butts, who was reelected to a third term in 2018 with 63% of the vote.

While in office, he has tried to juggle seemingly opposing goals: courting pharaonic projects like the NFL stadium while persuading landlords to keep rents stable and trying to ensure that longtime owners reap the benefits of a thriving market that has pushed the median home value in this city of 110,000 to $555,000.

Lack of rent control makes Inglewood an attractive investment opportunity. Owners have been able to jack up rents or kick out month-to-month tenants with just 60 days’ notice. Two-thirds of the city’s residents are renters. About a quarter who live here are older than 55. Many are on fixed incomes.

At the March 5 City Council meeting, Butts proposed — and the council unanimously voted to adopt — a 45-day moratorium during which rent increases would be capped at 5% annually and evictions would be halted as the city tried to find a permanent solution to the rent problem. There’s an option to extend the measure to a full year.

Previously, Butts had opposed rent ordinances, saying: “We’re not going to do anything to stymie the small owners from being able to make a living.”

But Inglewood’s housing market has changed drastically since he was elected in 2011.

Back then, the city was on the verge of bankruptcy. Services were being trimmed, and unemployment amid the Great Recession stood at 17%. The city’s largest taxpayer, Hollywood Park Racetrack and Casino — which in 2011 brought $4.6 million into the city’s coffers — was shuttering its racetrack.

Developers say their investments have spurred Inglewood’s reversal of fortune. In 2018, the site where the 300-acre stadium project is going up brought in $15.8 million in tax revenue — without a single game being played. That money has been used to restore services, hire more police officers and replace the aging fleet of cop cars, Butts said.

Inglewood’s post-recession jobless rate is now 5.4%. But there’s a downside to the boom: a growing housing shortage. Despite the city’s turnaround, said Chris Meany, co-founder of the developer involved in the NFL stadium and Clippers projects, “when a place is being economically redeveloped, always in the back of your mind is, ‘Are we gentrifying to the point we’re displacing people?’ ”

Years before the stadium plan came into being, the same developer had proposed building a retail and residential community with 3,000 housing units — 450 of which would be affordable — at the racetrack site. The project would have included upscale, market-rate housing to attract high-income earners and raise the city’s tax base.

In 2008, city officials and developers agreed to spread the affordable units throughout the city. Now, when completed, the stadium-entertainment complex will include Inglewood’s largest housing project, with 2,500 units. None are set aside for low-income residents.

Butts said the city had constructed hundreds of affordable units since he took office and that another 180 would be added over the next three years.

But Inglewood is a long way from fulfilling its 2021 housing goal of 567 below-market units. It hasn’t produced any affordable housing since the end of 2013, when all L.A. County cities were required to set goals for the next seven years, according to the state’s Department of Housing and Community Development.

Russ Heimerich, a spokesman for the state Business, Consumer Services and Housing Agency, said many communities had failed to meet their targets.

“The whole state of California is behind in producing housing,” he said.

With a median household income of $46,000, roughly $15,000 below the county’s median, Inglewood has joined a growing list of urban areas nationwide, from Baltimore to Oakland, where African Americans have historically clustered — for comfort or because of race-based redlining policies — but now feel they are being pushed out. Nationwide, black homeownership rates have declined to levels not seen since the 1960s, when race-based discrimination was legal, according to nonprofit think tank the Urban Institute, a sign that the economic recovery has skipped many workers of color.

“This is our ’hood,” said Major Stewart, 69, who lived in Inglewood for 36 years before getting a notice in December that rent on his one-bedroom apartment two miles from the new stadium would more than double. So he’s moving in with his sister in L.A. “If you move us out of here, we’re lost.”

African Americans have felt unwelcome in Inglewood before.

A century ago, signs posted by the Ku Klux Klan declared the city to be for “Caucasians-Only.” The post-WWII era brought a wave of African Americans escaping the Jim Crow South for the dream of living where race was not the “principal organizing factor,” said Darnell Hunt, director of the Ralph J. Bunche Center for African American Studies at UCLA.

“California was never a slave state,” he said, “so all of those things made it attractive for blacks coming from places where racial segregation and oppression was in your face every day.”

Many of the transplants secured good-paying jobs in the defense industry. But as more blacks arrived, Jim Crow followed. Realtors refused to show them homes. Racial covenants tucked into property deeds prohibited selling to blacks, keeping large swaths of present-day South L.A. and Inglewood Caucasian.

A series of state and federal laws made housing discrimination illegal. But it took the 1965 Watts riots to truly integrate Inglewood, as middle-class blacks moved farther west in search of a place to lay down community roots.

By 1970, one in 10 Inglewood residents were black. But as the region’s manufacturing base shrank, high-paying union jobs disappeared. Industry trends and the shift in residents’ spending power caused many of the city’s businesses to close.

The Lakers and Kings moved to downtown L.A. in 1999. Efforts to revitalize Inglewood’s Market Street failed. The state took over the city’s troubled schools in 2012. Hollywood Park held its final race the following year.

“Inglewood was in decline” and edging toward insolvency, said Meany, the developer.

Then with the NFL stadium plans came a surprising revival. The growth of the technology sector in Playa Vista’s Silicon Beach also began to change Inglewood, much as the tech boom has spilled into black communities in Oakland, Boston and Seattle. Newcomers with higher salaries found their dollar could stretch further.

The city’s image also has been buffed by positive pop-culture imagery, such as HBO’s hit comedy-drama “Insecure,” depicting the trials and triumphs of its 20-something black female protagonist who lives in Inglewood.

“ ‘Insecure’ does a pretty good job of showing the world the other side of South L.A.,” Hunt said, “that maybe you didn’t see if all you saw were the gangster movies of the 1990s and everything that came after the 1992 uprising” with the Rodney King trial.

For Clarence Johnson, buying an Inglewood home was a gamble that paid off.

The 34-year-old father of two found a duplex that fit his budget, nestled on a tree-lined street off West 102nd Street. He lives in one unit and rents out the other.

When he moved to Inglewood in 2011, he said, parts of the city resembled a rap video — people with intimidating stares clustered on street corners. When he used to tell people where he lived, they replied, “You can always move. Inglewood is a good start.”

Now they ask if he lives near the stadium, and his home value has more than doubled.

Butts has admitted to underestimating the rent-increase problem, once thinking it could be solved on a case-by-case basis.

Over the last few years, the mayor said, he would reach out to residents when rumors of price gouging and displacement surfaced online but often did not hear back. Then in January, an outraged tenant posted on Facebook that her rent would jump from $1,200 to $2,725 per month.

Butts got word of a rental increase of more than 100% in the nine-unit, sand-colored apartment building where Major Stewart lived. Not longer after that building changed hands late last year, the new owner tucked notices of rent increases into tenants’ screen doors. Stewart was informed that his rent would jump to $1,725 from $855. There were no promises to make improvements, like replacing his aging carpet or appliances, Major Stewart said.

Increase notices also went out at Tomisha Pinson’s 28-unit complex, which was owned by the same property management company, and Butts stepped in.

He met days later with Adrian Malin, the head of Regents 99 LLC, and crafted an agreement that gave renters in the two apartment buildings several choices, including gradual increases or a $10,000 lump sum to move out by April.

“It was somewhat of a victory for us,” said 40-year-old Angel Burrell, a longtime resident who plans to take the lump sum and move into a family-owned duplex in Inglewood.

Malin declined to comment but in an email wrote: “I have a lot of respect for Mayor Butts.”

But the community’s triumph was short-lived.

In February, Butts learned of two more properties that had experienced sharp rent hikes. The property manager refused to speak with him, prompting the mayor to propose the 45-day rent moratorium.

The temporary cap was a win for Uplift Inglewood, which continues to apply pressure to City Hall. It also is taking the fight to Sacramento, pushing for an anti-price-gouging bill.

“Everybody can agree that these 120% rent increases are astronomical and ridiculous,” said Scorza, of Uplift Inglewood. “I think we can start there.”

But the cap wasn’t enough to keep Donald Martin in Inglewood.

Golden Bee Properties took over his 10-unit building last year. The new landlord never issued a notice about raising the rent. Instead, Martin was evicted with 60 days’ notice.

Golden Bee’s top executive, David Berneman, declined to comment.

There’s no way to know how many tenants have been pushed from their homes without cause; some eviction notices are available for viewing for 60 days, but many are not public record.

When he left, Martin said, Golden Bee Management gave him a month’s rent plus $500. He boxed up his suits, his favorite alligator shoes that he only wears to church, and some cooking supplies. He put it all in storage.

For weeks, Martin parked his SUV in a strip mall and slept in the front seat before the police ordered him to leave. Now he is living out of motels and extended-stay hotels.

“I can’t save money, because the rent of some places I live is $500 a week,” said Martin, who receives a disability check for back pain. “It has been really rough on me.”

On a recent afternoon, he returned to his old neighborhood to visit friends, driving past the building where he thought he would live out his golden years.

The exterior had been painted a lime green with gray-blue trim. A crew of workers streamed in and out, readying the apartments for tenants willing to pay market rent.

Photographs

Kids propel their scooters down a Market Street sidewalk

A theater on that street is shuttered while, elsewhere in Inglewood, a stadium and entertainment complex is in the works

Cars pass a city sign on La Brea Avenue

Plans for a new Clippers arena in Inglewood have spurred protests, such as this one in June 2018. The project would allow use of eminent domain to confiscate property

Mayor James T. Butts Jr., shown at a 2018 Inglewood City Council meeting, acted in March to temporarily halt evictions and slow rent increases

The rising stadium complex looms behind the gated community of Renaissance Homes in Inglewood

Major Stewart is leaving the city he's lived in for 36 years. He's packing his boxes after being told the rent on his one-bedroom apartment is set to more than double

Clarence Johnson snaps photos of a home for sale in Inglewood. Johnson has seen the value of a duplex he owns in the city spike with the current economic boom.

[pakcricwiz]

Australia's Wendy Tuck wins Clipper Round-the-World yacht race

Tuck becomes first female skipper to win, beating Britain’s Nikki Henderson

The Australian sailor Wendy Tuck, has become female skipper to win the Clipper Round-the-World yacht race.

More than 11 months after leaving Liverpool’s Albert Dock, a fleet of 11 vessels returned to the city in north-west England after circumnavigating the globe.

Continue reading... from Blogger https://ift.tt/2uYKDy1

[savetopnow]

2018-03-07 18 NEWS now

NEWS

Associated Press

Wave of exits from West Wing sparks talk of brain drain

Another nor'easter threatening communities along East Coast

US greets talk of NK nuke concessions with hope, skepticism

Democrats, women candidates score big in Texas primaries

The Latest: Runoff set to challenge GOP US Rep. Sessions

BBC News

Tomb Raider star: 'It's all very positive' because of feminist movement

Diver swims through 'horrifying plastic cloud'

Michelle Obama dances with Parker the portrait girl

Digging for a son in Eastern Ghouta

Watch Frances McDormand's Oscar being stolen

Chicago Tribune

Woman hit by semi-truck after running into traffic on South Side

Truck carrying ammunition catches fire after Tinley Park crash

1 dead, 5 wounded in shootings

Authorities search for northwest suburban teen and her toddler son

Demolition of Lakeview buildings to begin this week for CTA 'flyover' project

LA Times

A fight simmers in the Bay Area over protecting the privacy of immigrants here illegally

Clippers let Anthony Davis drop 41 points in loss to Pelicans

College basketball roundup: Charleston, back in the dance, parties like it’s 1999

John Gibson doesn't give an inch in Ducks' 4-0 shutout of Capitals

For the Record

NPR News

Fyre Festival Promoter Billy McFarland Pleads Guilty To Fraud

Justice Department Sues California Over Impeding Immigration Enforcement

Trump Administration Quietly Decides — Again — To Allow Elephant Trophy Imports

A Homeless Man's Truck Is His Home, Judge Rules In Seattle

Deal To Take Over The Weinstein Co. Falls Through

New York Times

In Russian Ex-Spy’s Poisoning, Britain Sees Echoes of Cold War

Editorial: North Korea Has Put the Ball in Trump’s Court

Trump Administration Sues California Over Immigration Laws

Texas Democrats Surge to Polls, in Show of Anti-Trump Sentiment

Europe Edition: North Korea, Gary Cohn, Real Madrid: Your Wednesday Briefing

ProPublica

ProPublica, NPR ‘Lost Mothers’ Series Wins Goldsmith Prize for Investigative Reporting

Trump’s Company Removes Presidential Seal From Golf Course

Atomwaffen, Extremist Group Whose Members Have Been Charged in Five Murders, Loses Some of Its Platforms

Win or Lose in GOP Primary for Governor, Jeanne Ives Helps Push Illinois to the Right

We’ve Updated ‘The Money Game,’ Our Illinois Governor’s Race Fundraising Widget

Reddit News

Shooter could have faced charges before massacre — had cops done their job, experts say

Mississippi town to allow gay pride parade, reversing denial

Major cause of dementia discovered

Fyre Festival’s Billy McFarland Pleads Guilty to Wire Fraud, Faces Up to 40 Years

Monsanto concealed effects of toxic chemical for decades, Ohio AG says in suit

Reuters

Britain's top ministers to meet on mysterious illness of Russian double agent

Stormy Daniels sues Trump over 'hush agreement'

Possibility of North Korea detente stirs diplomatic angst in Japan

Philippines' Duterte says 'not in a million years' does ICC have right to try him

U.S. Secretary of State to focus on security on first African visit

Reveal News

Nation’s largest janitorial company faces new allegations of rape

A group of janitors started a movement to stop sexual abuse

The Hate Report: How white supremacists recruit online

New documents about Jehovah’s Witnesses’ sex abuse begin to leak out

California is preparing to defend its waters from Trump order

The Altantic

West Virginia's Teachers Are Not Satisfied

This Average Joe Is the Most Quoted Man in News

The Unsinkable Benjamin Netanyahu?

Eric Garcetti Isn't Expecting Much From Washington

The Particular Horror of Church Shootings

The Guardian

Dollar falls as Gary Cohn's White House resignation fuels trade war fears – business live

Weinstein Company buyers pull out after much more debt found

'I was nothing more than a common thief': master of Fleet Street's dark arts reveals trade secrets

Gary Cohn quits as Donald Trump's top economic adviser

I was bought for 50,000 rupees: India's trafficked brides – in pictures

The Independent

Acer launches 'smart prayer beads' for Buddhists

Westminster today - LIVE: Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman arrives as EU expected to rebuff Theresa May's Brexit terms

Stormy Daniels sues Trump over nondisclosure agreement for alleged relationship

Maro Itoje's slump in form a result of 'second-season syndrome', insists Eddie Jones

Live at Leeds lineup 2018: The Vaccines, The XCERTS, Rae Morris, IDLES and Nadine Shah to perform

The Intercept

Leaked Files Show How NSA Tracks Other Countries’ Hackers

Landslide Win for Italian Candidate Who Promised to Defend “White Race”

New Orleans Surveillance Program Gives Powerful Tools to a Police Department With a History of Racism and Abuse

Google Is Quietly Providing AI Technology for Drone Strike Targeting Project

Teacher Unrest Spreads to Oklahoma, Where Educators Are “Desperate for a Solution”

The Quartz

A third of guns in the US are imported, and foreign firearms makers want a say on gun control

This startup is banking on the diaspora to help plug Nigeria’s education shortcomings

The story behind India’s biggest banking IPO began with rural women

It may be 20 years before Modicare reaches all of India’s poor

The winner of India’s fierce mobile war is Mukesh Ambani’s feature phone

Wall Street Journal

U.K. Makes Case for Including Financial Services in EU Trade Deal

China Spends More on Domestic Security as Xi's Powers Grow

Trump Administration Praises North Korean Overture, but Remains Wary

Maersk Ship Catches Fire in Arabian Sea; Four Crew Members Are Missing

Kushner to Meet With Mexican President During Trip

[janetgannon]

Clipper Round the World

24 days after Race 2, the Stormhoek Race to the Cape of Storms, started from Punta del Este, including an unscheduled return to Uruguay after sustaining severe damage from a collision with a whale, the PSP Logistics team has made its long-awaited arrival into Cape Town tonight.

Crowds of crew and supporters lined the quay, fellow race crew took to their yachts and a chorus of local singers welcomed the hardened adventurers into the Victoria and Alfred Waterfront.

Round the world crewmember Stian Tonnesen, 31, from Norway, said: “It’s been a long, tough one but we made it in the end. The team has been tested in many ways but we’ve crossed another ocean. It’s done and it’s been an incredible bonding experience for us.

Nigel Holcombe, 55, also a circumnavigator, said: “It wasn’t as bad as you may think. The spirit was great, we were great. It is tougher when you are not racing but we really have had a lot of laughs.

“Last night was really the hardest night of all. The wind was really strong and we just wanted to get in. We’ve been so looking forward to arriving in Cape Town for obvious reasons, and it’s been a great welcome here.”

Since its return to racing, approximately a week after the rest of the fleet, PSP Logistics has not had an easy time of it, with the South Atlantic throwing everything at it, from light airs and wind holes to 50 knots of wind and cold temperatures. The crew banded together however in the face of all adversity to make best course for Cape Town.

All PSP Logistics crew will be given tomorrow off to rest whilst the Clipper Race team and volunteers from across the fleet, clean, victual, mend and prepare CV28 for the Leg 3, the Southern Ocean Leg to Fremantle, Western Australia.

Darren Lemon, 49, who is joining the team for Leg 3, was there to greet the team along with fellow new joiners. He said: “It was an awesome welcome. Great to see the whole Clipper Race office staff and all the different crew out to welcome the team in. The emotion was definitely bubbling away there.

PSP Logistics – 2017-18 Clipper Round the World Yacht Race Clipper Round The World Yacht Race www.clipperroundtheworld.com

On the new leggers efforts to help the crew prepare for Leg 3, he said: “We’ve spent the last few days being in touch with the boat, and have been off getting the food and provisions ready for us. We’re all just keen to help out.

Adding, Darren says: “Having some fresh blood on board and extra energy will give the team a great boost I hope. They’ve been through it and now we just want to step in and help them as best as we can. Can’t wait to join in.”

PSP Logistics was awarded the Stormhoek Social Spirt award at Prize Giving and crewmember, Ben Acland, also won the Henri Lloyd photo competition which means there will be plenty of cold beverages ready and waiting to celebrate their achievements.

The entire Clipper Race fleet is set to depart for Fremantle on 31 October, and is estimated to arrive in between 21 and 25 November after taking on the mighty Southern Ocean.

by Clipper Round the World

Read Full Content Here

The post Clipper Round the World appeared first on YachtAweigh.

from http://yachtaweigh.com/clipper-round-the-world/ from https://yachtaweigh.tumblr.com/post/166958484951

[jeantparks]

Clipper Round the World

24 days after Race 2, the Stormhoek Race to the Cape of Storms, started from Punta del Este, including an unscheduled return to Uruguay after sustaining severe damage from a collision with a whale, the PSP Logistics team has made its long-awaited arrival into Cape Town tonight.

Crowds of crew and supporters lined the quay, fellow race crew took to their yachts and a chorus of local singers welcomed the hardened adventurers into the Victoria and Alfred Waterfront.

Round the world crewmember Stian Tonnesen, 31, from Norway, said: “It’s been a long, tough one but we made it in the end. The team has been tested in many ways but we’ve crossed another ocean. It’s done and it’s been an incredible bonding experience for us.

Nigel Holcombe, 55, also a circumnavigator, said: “It wasn’t as bad as you may think. The spirit was great, we were great. It is tougher when you are not racing but we really have had a lot of laughs.

“Last night was really the hardest night of all. The wind was really strong and we just wanted to get in. We’ve been so looking forward to arriving in Cape Town for obvious reasons, and it’s been a great welcome here.”

Since its return to racing, approximately a week after the rest of the fleet, PSP Logistics has not had an easy time of it, with the South Atlantic throwing everything at it, from light airs and wind holes to 50 knots of wind and cold temperatures. The crew banded together however in the face of all adversity to make best course for Cape Town.

All PSP Logistics crew will be given tomorrow off to rest whilst the Clipper Race team and volunteers from across the fleet, clean, victual, mend and prepare CV28 for the Leg 3, the Southern Ocean Leg to Fremantle, Western Australia.

Darren Lemon, 49, who is joining the team for Leg 3, was there to greet the team along with fellow new joiners. He said: “It was an awesome welcome. Great to see the whole Clipper Race office staff and all the different crew out to welcome the team in. The emotion was definitely bubbling away there.

PSP Logistics – 2017-18 Clipper Round the World Yacht Race Clipper Round The World Yacht Race www.clipperroundtheworld.com

On the new leggers efforts to help the crew prepare for Leg 3, he said: “We’ve spent the last few days being in touch with the boat, and have been off getting the food and provisions ready for us. We’re all just keen to help out.

Adding, Darren says: “Having some fresh blood on board and extra energy will give the team a great boost I hope. They’ve been through it and now we just want to step in and help them as best as we can. Can’t wait to join in.”

PSP Logistics was awarded the Stormhoek Social Spirt award at Prize Giving and crewmember, Ben Acland, also won the Henri Lloyd photo competition which means there will be plenty of cold beverages ready and waiting to celebrate their achievements.

The entire Clipper Race fleet is set to depart for Fremantle on 31 October, and is estimated to arrive in between 21 and 25 November after taking on the mighty Southern Ocean.

by Clipper Round the World

Read Full Content Here

The post Clipper Round the World appeared first on YachtAweigh.

source http://yachtaweigh.com/clipper-round-the-world/ from http://yatchaweigh.blogspot.com/2017/10/clipper-round-world.html