#Self-Hosted Container Testing

[virtualizationhowto]

Docker Development Environment: Test your Containers with Docker Desktop

Docker Development Environment: Test your Containers with Docker Desktop #homelab #docker #DockerDesktopDevelopment #SelfHostedContainerTesting #DockerDevEnvironment #ConfigurableDevelopmentEnvironment #DockerContainerManagement #DockerDesktopGUI

One of the benefits of a Docker container is it allows you to have quick and easy test/dev environments on your local machine that are easy to set up. Let’s see how we can set up a Docker development environment with Docker Desktop. Table of contentsQuick overview of Docker Development EnvironmentSetting Up Your Docker Development Environment with Docker Desktop1. Install Docker Desktop2. Create…

[finelinefae]

the game [tennisplayer!harry x tennisplayer!y/n]

synopsis: y/n's desperate to play tennis and who better to coach her than her rival

word count: 6.7k

contains: enemies to lovers, set at a boarding school, jealous h, slow burn, angst, tennis rivals

a/n: this is the very first part of a new series that i am soooooo beyond excited to be writing !! it will most likely have 4/5 parts <333 enjoy !!!

. . .

Crestwood Academy was a prestigious boarding school with a mission to cultivate excellence in its students, many of whom went on to achieve great success in their respective fields. Nestled amidst rolling hills and lush greenery, it welcomed only the most accomplished families into its esteemed halls.

Y/N had attended Crestwood Academy since she was five, thanks to her father, who owned a country club and could afford the tuition. Her parents, strict and focused on success, were determined to give her the best education possible so that she could be the very best. Her face was always buried in a book or spending her days in the library, right up until the very last minute of its opening hours. 

It was her final year at Crestwood Academy before graduation. Y/N had been set on passing all of her exams at the top of her class so had been working extra hard. She studied English, maths, all three sciences, Latin, French and History as well as tennis. 

Y/N's parents had always urged her to pursue a career in the top industries. Despite her efforts to feign interest in that direction, her heart had always belonged to tennis ever since she first took up the sport at Crestwood.

She had competed plenty, winning all the academy trophies and medals. Her parents would visit whenever she competed in finals and congratulated her on winning but saw it as nothing but a hobby to participate in when she wasn’t studying. 

However, Y/N couldn’t deny herself the rush of playing knowing she’d have to part with the sport once she graduated. The career path of becoming a doctor was already laid out for her by her parents but she felt destined to follow a different path. 

Despite the fact she had applied to dozens of schools to study medicine, she still had one more option that had nothing to do with science at all. 

Every year, the academies hosted their own version of a grand slam in which the winning player received a scholarship and three years' worth of training from one of the top tennis academies in the world. Y/N longed to be at the top with the greats and she knew that this competition was the only way she could get there. 

For the most part, Y/N had been self-taught. She watched videos online and took notes from the Wimbledon matches she’d see on the television. Crestwood only had one sports coach who focused most of their time on the football team so if she was going to win the scholarship, she needed the very best. 

She sat on the bleachers, her book open in front of her, but her attention was drawn to the man on the court. The player’s movements were fluid and powerful, each action deliberate and precise. Yet, it was another man who held her gaze—a figure with an impassive expression, focused solely on his player.

When the match was over, Y/N slammed her book shut and walked towards the court after the players shook hands. Her eyes looked down at the limp in his step as he walked towards the cooler to grab a water bottle. 

It had been a while since she had last seen him. She remembered the proud look on his parent’s faces when he was pulled out of Crestwood eighteen months ago and went on to win a grand slam in Australia. She could still feel the intense jealousy that filled her as she watched the match on television whilst studying for her chemistry test that he was also supposed to sit had he stayed. 

Now he was here, back to his roots and maybe it had been fate because what she was about to ask him would determine her own path in the tennis career she longed for. 

His hair was slightly longer now, his brunette, touseled curls were swept to the side in a loose, dishevelled manner. He wore sunglasses to cover his eyes from the sunlight and a navy tracksuit paired with white vans. 

Seeing him brought back the once competitive emotions she had whenever she’d see him strut about the courts every lunchtime but she’d have to suppress those emotions, especially for what she was about to ask him. 

“Excuse me, Harry?” Y/N called out. 

He took a water bottle from the cooler and flicked off the cap before holding it to his lips and gulping it down. Y/N waited, crossing her arms as she did. “I’ve been waiting for you to show up.” Was the first thing he said. 

Y/N didn’t know what to say. It was unexpected to know that he had been waiting to see her, “I didn’t know you were part of the furniture on these courts,” He smirks and Y/N’s jaw ticks. “And you still sit in the exact same spot on those bleachers, to what? Admire me?”

Y/N bristled at Harry's cocky remark, her irritation bubbling to the surface. "Hardly," she retorted, her tone sharp. "I have better things to do than waste my time watching you play."

Harry chuckled, his smirk widening as he leaned against the cooler. "Is that so? Then what brings you here?" he asked, his tone laced with curiosity. “Come to get an autograph?”

Y/N squared her shoulders, determined not to let his arrogance get under her skin. "I was actually hoping to talk to you about something," she replied, her voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in her stomach.

Harry raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Oh? And what might that be?" he inquired, his gaze piercing as he studied her intently.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N gathered her courage and suppressed her pride, "I want you to coach me," she blurted out, her words hanging in the air between them. 

Harry made no effort to hide the surprise on his face but it quickly melted into a cocky smirk, “You want me to coach you? I thought you hated me?” 

“I do,” She replies quickly. She’d hated him ever since he had humiliated her in a battle of the sexes tennis tournament when they were young despite the fact she had little chance of winning against him anyway. “But I don’t have to like you to recognise your talent and right now you're the best and only coach I can get if I’m going to win that scholarship,”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, “Your parents still want you to study medicine?” Something flickered in his eyes that Y/N couldn’t put her finger on. 

Y/N wasn’t going to give him an answer even though it was obvious, “This is the only chance I get to escape it,” She mutters, “I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate.”

He glanced around before taking a step forward. She was tempted to step back at the same time but she didn’t want to seem intimidated by him so stood her ground. From this proximity, she noticed how much taller he was compared to her - almost an entire foot. 

“What’s in it for me?” He asked.

Y/N knew he’d ask which was why she spent so much time figuring out what she could tell him to make it worthwhile. “I know about your injury,” She says and he stills.

“Everyone knows about my injury.” He grumbles. 

It had been a spectacle in the world of tennis. The new grand slam winner loses out on his second after a fatal injury at the French Open. Y/N remembered seeing him rolling on the ground, holding onto his leg as paramedics ran onto the court to aid him. 

“People think you’re a one-hit wonder since you’re out for the season,” His jaw clenched as she spoke, “But if you coach me and get me to win, I guarantee you’ll be out on the court again - back where you belong,”

“You think an academy league game can get my back onto the court?”

“No, but it's a start and maybe I’ll be competing alongside you the next time you’re playing.” 

There was a moment of silence as Harry absorbed her words, his gaze searching hers for any hint of insincerity. Finding none, he let out a heavy sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Fine," he relented, his voice tinged with resignation. "You want me to coach you? Prove you’re worth coaching.” 

He walked over to the barrel of tennis rackets and picked one up. Y/N narrowed her eyes, remembering the last time they had played against each other and how embarrassed she was afterwards. 

“But you’re-”

“One game won’t hurt,” He said before she could finish. 

She followed, her steps purposeful as she reached for a racket, flipping it over in her hands as she strode to the other end of the court. Despite being clad in her school uniform—a pleated skirt, white shirt with the school crest, and loafers that threatened to slide off her feet—she was determined to prove herself. She'd show him she was worth his time, that she was a far better tennis player than he gave her credit for.

As they took their positions on opposite ends of the court, the tension between them crackled in the air. Y/N gripped her racket tightly, her focus sharp as she prepared to face off against Harry once again.

The first serve sliced through the air, the sound echoing as the ball hurtled towards Y/N. She moved with fluidly, her muscles tensing as she returned the serve.

Harry's response was swift, his movements confident as he returned the ball with a well-placed shot that left Y/N scrambling to keep up. Even with his injury, he still held the precision of a professional. But she refused to back down, her determination driving her to match him shot for shot, rally after rally.

The game intensified as they traded blows, each point reflecting their skills and determination. Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she fought to keep pace with Harry, her mind focused solely on the ball. Both Y/N and Harry vocally exerted their energy through grunts and cries as they hit the ball with all their energy. 

Despite her efforts, Harry seemed to anticipate her every move. But Y/N refused to be outdone, drawing on every ounce of strength and skill as she fought to gain the upper hand.

As the game progressed, Harry's skill and experience began to overthrow her. His shots were close to perfect and strategic, leaving Y/N struggling to keep up. Despite her determination, she found herself falling behind as Harry continued to dominate the match.

In the end, it was Harry who emerged victorious, his final shot landing just beyond Y/N's reach with a satisfying thud. As the ball bounced out of the court, Y/N knew that she had been outplayed.

She rested her hands on her knees, hunched over as she tried to regain her breath. She couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she’d lost despite the fact she was at a disadvantage anyway. 

Harry’s shadow fell over her but she refused to look up just yet. He spoke anyway, “You’ve gotten better since the last time I saw you,” He spoke, holding a cold water bottle in front of her face. 

She took it, the plastic crackling under her fingers, “You can just say you’re not going to do it,” She mumbled, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig of water. 

“I’ll coach you,” He says, “Meet me here at 6 pm tomorrow.” 

Y/N finally looked up, her mouth parted, only to find his back facing her as he walked away from the courts. 

. . . 

Harry had no idea what he had agreed to in coaching Y/N at tennis. 

He sat in his luxurious apartment ten minutes away from Crestwood Academy, surrounded by furniture wrapped in plastic or still in cardboard boxes. 

He sat on the couch with his feet resting on the coffee table in front of him and a glass of whiskey in his hand. The TV was playing quietly in front of him but his mind was on the girl he had spent the majority of his life competing with. 

She had grown since the last time he had seen her before he graduated and left the country to compete in the Australian Open. Her long, tanned legs were on show beneath the grey school skirt she had been wearing. He couldn’t seem to get the image of the visible muscles in her calves out of his mind as she moved across the court to hit the ball during their impromptu tennis match. 

Despite their personal differences, Harry couldn't resist her. There was an undeniable thrill in riling her up, in watching her reactions to the smallest digs. They had once been friends, back when Y/N would trail after him on the playground, eager to understand how to hit a ball with a tennis racket. But as she began competing in school competitions, she quickly learned that beating him was an impossible feat. 

He wasn’t surprised to see her watching him on the court today, in fact, it amused him. Whether she liked it or not, he would always look out in the bleachers for her whenever he’d play during his time at the academy. Her reactions were what kept him going, some might even say made him better. 

But, he couldn’t deny the fact that he was surprised to see her so brazenly asking him to coach her. He could tell by her reaction that it was killing her inside, to be coached by him when all she’d done was pick apart his technique, but it was clear she was desperate and Harry knew it was because of her parents. 

Harry had had his fair dose of strict parentage. When he was told he could no longer play tennis for the season, his parents shipped him straight back to Crestwood to finish his final year since he never actually graduated. 

He loathed them for it, barely saying a word to them as they paid the rent in cash for his apartment and left him with boxes to unpack on his own. He knew they were disappointed in him despite the fact the injury was no fault of his own, they could barely look at him as they left, closing the door behind them. 

It was embarrassing. How could he have gone from being at the top of his game to the very bottom? Now he was back in the place he had turned his back on, feeling like he was back to square one all over again. 

Harry’s thoughts were broken by the sound of his phone ringing. The name of his best friend since he was born lit up the screen.

“What?” Harry answered the call, his train of thought forming a particular level of intolerance in him.

“Hey, is that any way to talk to your best friend?” Mitch replied along with the sound of loud chattering in the background because he always had to be somewhere with someone. 

“Sorry,” Harry huffed, “Long day.”

“Already? You’ve not even started classes yet,” Mitch chuckled.

“Don’t remind me,” Harry hadn’t even begun thinking about being back in classrooms and having to put up with kids his age berating him with questions he didn’t want to answer. Tomorrow would be his first day back and he was dreading it.

“C’mon now, don’t be too glum about it, haven’t you missed me?” 

“No,” Harry lied. 

“I know you well enough now to know when you’re lying.” Mitch laughed down the phone. 

A hint of a smile grazed Harry’s lips, "Whatever," he replied, his tone gruff but lacking conviction. Despite his attempt to feign disinterest, a part of him couldn't deny the truth in Mitch's words. There had been many moments he had experienced after leaving school when he missed the company of people his own age. Everyone around him was older than he was and spoke to him as though he was some prized trophy that needed to be handled with caution. He’d spend evenings by the pool by himself, watching the sunset and wishing his friends were there to celebrate his win with him. 

"I'll take that as a yes," Mitch teased, “I know the boys will be happy to have y’ back and I can introduce you to Sarah. I think Molly Brown still has a thing for you as well by the way, talks about you all the fuckin’ time.” Harry listened to his friend ramble about all the things he had missed in the last year or so but his mind seemed to travel elsewhere. 

His eyes wandered around the room, his ear still pressed to his phone, until they landed on an open box with a picture frame resting on top. He recognized the photo immediately, even without picking it up, because he had kept it hidden in his old dorm desk. In the picture, a group of eight students—four boys and four girls—smiled at the camera, with Harry standing at the back and Y/N right beside him.

. . . 

Y/N slammed the door of her locker shut after pulling out her workbooks for her next class. Students bustled down the hallways of Crestwood Academy, wearing their navy blazers and uniform for another week of school. 

“Have you seen him yet?” Sarah, Y/N’s best friend, came out of nowhere and stood in front of her. 

“Seen who?” Y/N remained indifferent even though she knew who Sarah was referring to. 

Everyone had been talking about Harry since she had walked into school from her dorm room this morning. It was the main topic of conversation, everyone’s eyes darting around the hallways to try and find him. 

“You know,” Sarah nudged her, “The boy you’ve spent most of your life in a one-sided rivalry with?” 

“One-sided? It’s a mutual hatred,” Y/N argued.

Sarah gave her a look before continuing, “I texted Mitch twenty minutes ago but he hasn’t replied. I know I’ve met Harry before but this is the first time I’ll be meeting him as Mitch’s girlfriend and I don’t want it to change anything.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, “Sarah, just because he’s the winner of a grand slam doesn’t make his opinion of you any more important. Whether Harry likes you or not, everyone knows you and Mitch are perfect for each other.”

Y/N remembered the first time her friend had told her she was seeing Mitch. He had taken her out to dinner a few times and Sarah had come back to their shared dorm swooning and unable to stop herself from rambling the rest of the night about how romantic and funny he was. 

Y/N had never experienced anything like that in her life, too busy focusing on tennis and academia to find herself in relationships, but she was happy her best friend was happy and that was all that mattered to her. 

“I know but he’s important to Mitch. They’ve been best friends since infants and… that’s not all I’m worried about,” Sarah looked at Y/N pointedly. 

“What?” 

“Now that Mitch and I are together, that means we’ll be spending more time around each other which also means…” Sarah didn’t have to finish her sentence for Y/N to understand what she was trying to get at. 

“Oh n-no! No way! Sarah, are you being serious right now?” Y/N whined, “You want me to get along with Harry just because you’re dating his best friend?”

“You don’t have to but it would be nice if you did,” Her voice trailed off at the end, her eyes looking at her pleadingly, “I’m not asking you to be best friends, I’m just asking you not to chew his head off when we’re all in the same room together.”

Y/N wanted to argue and tell her she wouldn’t be able to chew his head off anyway because she needed him to coach her for the scholarship but an arm slid around Sarah’s waist and interrupted their conversation. 

Sarah grinned, turning to look up at her boyfriend who was now standing beside her, “Hey babe,” Mitch smiled.

“You’re here,” Sarah craned her neck to kiss his lips, “I texted you forever ago and you never replied.

Mitch scoffed, “It was twenty minutes ago and I didn’t have time to check my phone, too busy dragging this one through the front gates.”

Out of the corner of Y/N's eye, another figure appeared. She didn’t have to look to see who it was, the sudden surge of annoyance within her already gave them away. Her head tilted to the left to look up and see Harry. 

He was wearing his school uniform, the same way he always did before he left for Australia. His shirt was untucked, and the top button was undone revealing a gold chain and a white vest underneath, his grey trousers were ironed with not a crinkle in sight and his navy blazer hung casually behind him, hooked by his middle finger.

Y/N’s eyes shifted behind him to find people whispering to each other and groups of girls giggling as they walked past. It was nothing new to see girls getting riled up over him but it had become more intensified now that he had gone abroad and made a name for himself. Despite his injury preventing him from playing, Y/N was certain that even if Harry had lost every game and embarrassed himself on live television, people would still adore him.

“Hey Harry,” Sarah offered a kind smile.

“Hi Sarah, nice to see you again. Glad to know Mitch was in good hands whilst I was away,” Harry clapped his friend on the shoulder before turning to Y/N.

“Only the very best,” Mitch pulled Sarah into his side before motioning to Y/N, “You remember Sarah’s best friend Y/N right?”

“Hmmm, aren’t you the one who lost the Junior tennis competition to me a few years ago?” Harry smirked.

Y/N's jaw clenched, but she managed to force a smile. "I could be, but aren’t you the one who they recorded rolling around on the floor like a big baby at the French Open last year?" Her retort was sharp, aimed directly at Harry.

Harry's eyes narrowed in response, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. Y/N felt a sense of satisfaction at having gotten such a reaction from him. "Welcome back to Crestwood," she added, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Mitch and Sarah exchanged weary glances, sensing the tension between Y/N and Harry.

"Quite a welcome. I’ve already been asked to coach someone and I’ve only been back a week," Harry remarked, his gaze still fixed on Y/N, who met his stare with a glare of her own.

"You have?" Mitch frowned, his confusion evident.

"Who?" Sarah asked, equally perplexed.

Harry's eyes remained locked on Y/N, giving them their answer. "You asked him to coach you?" Sarah questioned her confusion mirroring Mitch's.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny, "Yeah, I did," she admitted reluctantly, her gaze flickering briefly to Harry before returning to Mitch and Sarah.

"Why would you ask him to coach you?" Sarah asked, her brow furrowing in confusion, “You argue all the time,” 

Y/N hesitated, “I need to win the scholarship to the tennis academy in London and Harry’s the only person here who knows how to play the game.” 

“Glad to know I was the pick of the bunch,” Harry’s voice dripped with sarcasm. 

“I thought you were applying to go to UCL?” Sarah frowned. 

“I was but you know how much the game means to me and my parents refuse to believe it’s more than just a hobby. This is the only chance I’ll get to prove them wrong and the only option to get me out of studying medicine.” Y/N explained. 

Sarah’s eyes softened, she too was no stranger to how strict Y/N’s parents could be. “Which is why she needs me,” Y/N felt the weight of his arm rest across her shoulders, “Right, love?” 

Y/N spun around to face Harry, eyes sharp, “Don’t call me that,” She hissed, seeing the satisfied grin on his face. 

He shrugged, “But I always call you that,” 

Ever since they were teenagers, when the rivalry first began, Harry had opted to calling Y/N ‘love’ knowing how much it riled her up. To some, it was a term of endearment but in the world of tennis the word ‘love’ meant one thing. 

‘Nil, ‘Zero’, ‘Loser’. 

Y/N hated the way he spoke it too - accentuating each letter of the word to drag it out for as long as he could just to annoy her further. 

She stepped forward, “Call me that one more time,” She threatened.

“Or what?” He tilted his head to the side. 

“Guys seriously, break it up,” Sarah intervened, “Aren’t you supposed to be getting along if you’re going to be spending more time together.”

Y/N hated the thought of it but knew she was right. If she wanted Harry to coach her, she couldn’t go around screwing things up by arguing with him. If he was going to coach her at the sport, she’d have to coach herself in controlling her attitude around him. 

“C’mon Sarah, let’s go to class,” Y/N hooked arms with her best friend, wanting to get as far away from him as possible. 

“Oh okay, bye Mitch.” Sarah kissed her boyfriend before she was dragged down the hallway in a hurry.

Harry watched as Y/N practically sprinted down the hallway with Sarah in tow. He felt the need to call out of her for one last dig just so she would turn around and he’d see her face before she rounded the corner, “See you on the courts, love.” He called down to her. 

As he had hoped, Y/N’s head whipped around to glare at him along with her middle finger, “Asshole!” She called back.

Harry chuckled to himself, “That face,” he murmured. 

Mitch placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “You’ve got it in for yourself with that one, lad.” Mitch said.

“Tell me about it,” Harry replied, his eyes still on the place he’d last seen Y/N. 

Maybe returning to Crestwood wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

. . . 

With Harry back, Y/N had suspected the day would be a drag with everyone constantly bringing him up in every conversation, but the first half of the day had gone well. Y/N was easily used to her classes by now and was still top of the class in all of them. 

During lunch period, Y/N always sat with Sarah in the library where they’d catch up on what they missed out on each other’s lives or study during exam season. It was nice to have some reprieve during the school hours and whenever she was with Sarah, Y/N could talk for hours and hours.

Now that Sarah was dating Mitch, Y/N and Sarah would spend their lunch with his friends in the lunch hall. Y/N didn’t mind it so much having grown used to being around Mitch’s friends despite their loud and boisterous personalities. 

However, today she was dreading the fact that now her lunchtimes would also include being around the person she wanted to spend as little amount of time with as possible. 

“Can’t we just eat in the library today? Please?” Y/N pulled on the sleeve of her best friend's blazer as she begged her to turn back in the direction of the library. She could already picture Harry’s annoying smirk the closer they got to the entrance of the lunch hall.

“Y/N you’re being dramatic. It’s just an hour, I’m sure you can survive being around him that long.” Sarah continued to tug her down the hallway.

“Sarah I already have to spend enough time as it is,” Now that she asked him to be her coach. The more the day went by the more she was starting to regret her decision. 

Sarah spun on her heel, “Think of this as practice then,” Her eyes looked past Y/N’s shoulder, “Look, there they are,” She moved past her and beelined towards their table where Y/N saw Mitch, Jake and Adam already sitting along with that head of brunette curls that Y/N just wanted to tear out every time she saw him. 

Sighing, she followed Sarah and approached the table responding to everyone’s friendly greetings until she got to Harry, “You’re in my seat,” She spoke after realising all the seats were taken. 

Harry didn’t bother to look around, that stupid grin plastered to his face when he looked up at her, “Am I?” 

Y/N gritted her teeth, “Yes,”

“Hmm,” He swivelled around to look at the back of the chair, “I don’t see your name anywhere.”

A wave of chuckles rippled around the table but Y/N had yet to find the amusement in it. “She does always sit there, H.” Mitch chuckles, “Just grab another chair from a different table.”

Harry leant back against the seat and crossed one leg over his thigh, “But I quite like this seat.” 

“I’m not moving until you get out of my seat,” Y/N crossed her arms, refusing to give in to him. 

“Well you’re going to be stood up for a long time and y’ need those legs for later,” Harry smirked, “Or you could just sit here,” He unfolded his legs and motioned towards his lap, “Still your seat.” 

Y/N’s jaw clenched but before she could respond, Adam chuckled and stood up, “Here,” He picked another chair up from an empty table and set it down next to him, “Y’ can sit here Y/N.” 

She was tempted to refuse and continue to nag Harry for the rest of lunch but decided against it, not wanting to waste her energy on him. Her eyes softened at Adam’s kindness, “Thanks, Adam.” She sat beside him. 

Harry’s smirk seemed to falter when Y/N sat down, watching as Adam looked at Y/N even as she turned to face the others. 

“Is that Molly Brown looking at y’ again Harry?” Jake, who Y/N considered the loudest one of Mitch’s friends, leant over the table to speak lowly to Harry even though it was impossible for him to ever be so quiet. 

Harry forced himself to look away from Adam before he burnt holes into him. “She’s been after him since fifth year,” Mitch chuckled. 

“Y’ think you’ll let her have it this year, H?” Jake takes a spoonful of his lunch and swallows it down. 

“Have what?” Sarah frowned, confused.

“Nothing you need to know about, babe,” Mitch replies, opening her waterbottle for her after she silently handed it to him. 

“I’ve never been interested in Molly,” Harry quickly replies but his ears prick when he hears Y/N laughing quietly with Adam. 

“Mind if I take my chances then?” Jake asks, “I’ve always wanted to date a cheerleader,” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Harry shakes him off, “What about you Adam?” He gets the attention from both Y/N and Adam as they look up, “Don’t you have a thing for Molly?”

Adam furrows his brows, “Molly Brown? Maybe in like third year,” He chuckles, “I’m not interested in anyone at the moment.”

Harry wants to laugh in his face, “Y’ sure about that?”

Adam frowns but Y/N quickly interrupts them, “People are allowed to have other interests you know.”

Harry feels that rush of excitement when she speaks run through his body, “Is this a touchy subject for you?”

Y/N scowls, “No, I’m just saying Adam doesn’t need to be interested in girl’s all the time.”

“Well maybe Adam can speak for himself,” Harry quips.

“Lord save me,” Jake mumbles and Sarah laughs.

“Well what about you? Have you managed to sink your fangs into anyone?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Y/N gapes, “I’ve dated plenty of people,”

The image unsettles Harry but he takes the opportunity to tease Y/N further. "Plenty of people, huh?" he echoes.

Y/N's cheeks flush slightly,  "I mean... well, not plenty, but a few," she stammers.

But Harry doesn't let up, "Oh, really?" he presses, "Care to share? I'm sure we'd all love to hear about the few men who you’ve tempted."

Y/N shoots him a glare, knowing full well that Harry was onto her. "I... uh, well," she stumbles over her words, searching for a way to change the subject.

But before she can respond, Adam jumps in. "Come on, Harry, give her a break," he glowers. 

“Yeah, Y/N’s just waiting for the right guy and there’s nothing wrong with that,” Sarah pipes in, always one to have her best friend’s back.

Harry raises an eyebrow, his gaze flickering between Y/N and Adam before settling on Y/N, who shifts uncomfortably. Sensing the tension, Mitch swiftly changes the subject to something else.

. . . 

After lunch, Y/N made her way to her next class with Adam walking alongside her. Out of all of Mitch’s friends, she got on the most with Adam to the point where Sarah was constantly pestering her over considering a date with him but Y/N didn’t see him as any more than a good friend.  He was quiet and kept to himself for the most part, excelling in the arts and playing bass guitar in a band on weekends. Y/N enjoyed the calmness he brought to the group especially with the others being so loud all the time. 

“What do you think?” Adam asked, holding the strap of his backpack in one hand as it hung over his right shoulder. 

“What do I think about what?” Y/N frowned. 

“You know, Harry being back. I know you two didn’t always get along,” He explained.

Y/N scoffed, “If it weren’t for the fact he’s coaching me for the Academy Slam, I would be praying to whatever God that’d listen to send him back to Australia,” Which was also the furthest possible country he could be away from her. 

Adam chuckled, “He told us earlier he’d be coaching you,” 

Y/N scowled, “I bet he couldn’t get enough of it,” 

“Actually he seemed pretty happy about it. We haven’t seen him that happy since he got back from Australia.”

“Really? Maybe that injury did something to his head,” 

“What makes you hate him so much anyway?” Adam asked. 

Y/N sighed. It was a question she heard often but never had a solid answer for. She couldn't quite explain why she disliked Harry so much. Maybe it was because he had things she wanted, and jealousy often turned into hatred. But there was something more, something she couldn't quite pin down.

Despite her dislike, Y/N went to all of Harry's matches, and she watched them on TV too. Even when she tried to stay in her room, her legs seemed to move on their own, taking her to the courts to watch him play. She hated that part of her rooted for him, and she couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was because Harry had been the first person to teach her how to play and she felt some sense of loyalty to that but she had no perfect answer even though she wished for one. 

“His face annoys me,” Y/N says.

“That’s it?” Adam snickers. 

“I don’t know,” Y/N shrugs, “We’ve always had this rivalry that stemmed out of nowhere but I can’t even remember how it started.”

“You don’t have feelings for him do you?” The question came out of nowhere and took Y/N completely off-guard. 

"What? No!" Y/N's response came out a little too quickly, and she hoped her cheeks hadn't betrayed her by turning red.

Adam shrugged. "Just making sure," he said casually. "You know, some people get them mixed up—love and hate."

Y/N furrowed her brow, genuinely puzzled. "How is that even possible?"

"Well, they're both intense emotions, aren't they?" He mused. "And sometimes, when you feel strongly about someone, whether it's love or hate, it can blur the lines between the two."

Y/N pondered his words, a sense of unease settling in her stomach, "No way," she replied firmly, shaking her head. "I may not like him, but there's definitely no love there."

Adam chuckled, sensing her defensiveness. "Alright, that’s good," he said with a grin.

Y/N felt a hint of a smile on her lips, “What does that mean? That’s good?”

Adam shrugged, still smiling, “Jus’ saying,” He spoke and Y/N laughed. 

Her gaze flicked from Adam's to Harry, who stood in the hallway with Molly Brown, her brunette waves tied up in the perfect, slicked back ponytail. Hoping to slip by unnoticed, she quickened her pace, but it was too late. Harry's eyes locked onto hers, then shifted to Adam. She caught the subtle twitch of his jaw before he pushed off the wall, ignoring Molly, and strode toward them.

Adam must not have noticed Harry coming towards them because he quickly bid goodbye so he could rush to his literature class. Y/N picked up her pace but Harry was already by her side, “Do you like him?” Harry asked.

“Who Adam? Well let’s see, he’s nice and smart and doesn’t feel the need to open his mouth every five seconds unlike some people I know, so yeah I do like him.” 

Harry scoffed, “He’s a little boring don’t you think?” 

Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry's comment, a retort already forming on her lips. "Nice of you to say that about your own best friend," she quipped. "Makes me wonder what you say about me."

Before she could say anything more, she gasped in surprise as Harry tugged on her hand and swiftly spun her around until her back was against the row of lockers. Her heart raced as he stepped forward, blocking her in, and dipped his head closer to hers.

"I think we need some ground rules for this whole coaching thing," Harry murmured, his voice low. "If you're planning on winning, I recommend using your time more wisely instead of wasting it on nice boys."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she processed his words. "Is that a rule or are you asking me not to date anyone?" she managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Both," Harry replied, his tone unwavering.

Her mind raced, unsure how to respond, "What about you then?" she countered.

"Is that a personal request?" Harry's smirk widened, his gaze locking onto hers. "Because I'm the coach, and I set the ground rules so anything you ask me to do is because you want me to do it."

Y/N's heart pounded louder in her ears as Harry's proximity sent heat coursing through her, "It's only fair," she replied, her voice barely audible.

Harry chuckled softly. "Fine, if it makes you happy. But I’m not interested in dating nice girls or boys anyway," he remarked with a smirk.

Y/N swallowed, her curiosity piqued. "What are you interested in?" 

He smirked, "The game," he replied cryptically.

With that, he moved away from her, his eyes lingering on her lips for a moment before he turned and walked down the hallway, “See you tonight, love.” He called back. 

As the sound of his footsteps faded, Y/N stood there, stunned and unable to move. She was grateful that no one had witnessed the exchange as she pulled out her compact, trying to compose herself and hide the flush of embarrassment that coloured her cheeks.

As she hurried to class, already five minutes late, Y/N couldn't shake the intensity of her encounter with Harry. Sitting by the window, her mind wandered as the teacher lectured the class, her gaze drifting to the courts outside where she'd soon be training with him this evening.

This coach-student dynamic had unlocked a new territory between them, something unpredictable that Y/N had no choice but to delve into for the months ahead. 

Yet, it was her only choice. Harry was the only way she could win and she’d push through whatever feelings she had to get what she wanted. 

She’d play the game, just as he wanted her to. 

[toskarin]

going on the twine rant again, lads. fair warning.

-

the twine editor is theoretically great software

which is to say, twine editor is far and away the best execution of "a text game maker for people who mostly make text and not games" that presently exists. it's notable for making wholly self-contained (read: does not require interpreter software) text games with functioning mechanics at about the level of code literacy you could feasibly ask from people who brushed off of other more complicated software

this is in large part because the text adventure and IF ecosystem has the same problem as the (similarly insular and incestuous) scorewriting ecosystem: all of the software is made to be used by a group of like 50 people who don't use anything else, so they just settle for whatever exists

twine solves a lot of these problems by simply existing as an html game maker that can automate all of the functions of a gamebook out of the box. the editor has features which (to me) seem to be inspired by scrivener, which is my favourite WYSIWYG writing software for longform fiction on the market (I prefer writing in LaTeX but I can acknowledge that's a habit I picked up and not an endorsement of LaTeX)

that being said, even though there's an obvious utility to being able to prototype out rpgs and such in twine incredibly quickly, I can't really recommend people... use twine for that. because of the problems.

the twine editor is also kind of beautiful for all the ways in which it issoftware designed to torture the user

twine exists with one foot in "games" and one foot in "writing" and this overlap is the totality of its intended use. this space of compromise is still the best that's been made for this specific scene, but it means that edge cases are (at absolute best) operating twine in much the way that someone being hanging onto the edge of a shattered cockpit is operating an airliner

I could go on and on about the specific elements of twine's design that drive me insane, and in how it punishes you both for making too much of a book and for making too much of a game, but there's one problem that kind of sticks out as a simulacrum of this whole issue

by design, twine organises its projects as a story map. this is kind of like the middle point between scrivener's storyboard and a whiteboard, but specialised for use in making text games. this means that each node on it is one screen, called a card, that you can open and edit

doing this opens a window for text input, and the exact contents of this window kind of depend on which format you're writing your story in, but as a rule, you write everything into these sub-windows and that's the game

because twine runs in one window, these cards open more like menus than true windows. you can have one open at a time, and when you need to test something, you close the window and press the button to test the game. simple as

now, for making software, it's helpful to have a versioning function of some sort in case, among other reasons, you fuck something up in a way you don't immediately notice

for writing, you usually want some sort of undo function, in case you accidentally delete something or edit over it

at the intersection of these two, twine does have an undo function. which works differently depending on which version of the editor you're using. in the web version, you get multiple layers of undo. that makes sense.

in the downloaded version, which is the version you have to use if you don't want to use your browser's local storage (?? you shouldn't be doing this) you get

one layer of undo.

in a modern text editor.

that you are expected to write in.

this is on top of the browser-hosted version of twine editor being significantly more stable than the desktop version, so that's obviously the version you're meant to use, which runs in stark contrast to like... how that should work. this should already be raising your blood pressure a little bit if you remember that the browser version of twine saves your project files to your browser's local storage

now, common to both versions is another important feature which seemingly exists to prevent data loss: twine automatically saves your changes when you exit out of a card

this means that, the moment you close a card to go test the changes you just made to your game, they are saved over the previous version of the game with no way to undo them

but there IS a way to get around this without having to write in an entirely separate word processor! several ways even. you can even use the downloaded version if you do this

duplicate the full project every single time you make changes that could necessitate an undo function

make a copy of every card you edit in case you need to revert to it after testing, then remember to delete it afterwards

if you're editing the cards themselves, see option 1, because there is no way to undo deletion of cards in the story map

and like... that's not good. it's kind of the hell machine for killing all human beings, actually

it's also not a problem remotely unique to twine, because this is the kind of thing you see in most niche-specialised software where there isn't really a distinction made between "this is an expected frustration of working on any artistic project" and "this is something completely insane that absolutely should not be the case and isn't tolerated in immediately adjacent comparable creative fields"

twine can be used to make longer projects, but at the point where you're recommending two layers of supporting software that overlap so hard with the editor that they should be redundancies, it becomes clear that the only thing it's really fit-for-purpose to do is non-linear fiction consisting of two or three paragraphs per card

and that's generally not what it's used for! because that sort of thing is almost universally understood as a stepping stone towards using twine for making either longform non-linear fiction or full-featured rpgs

twine could be really useful software, and in fairness it's generally better than the alternatives it supplanted in its niche (people making little interactive poems probably shouldn't be trying to use Inform or TADS), but it really seems like it was designed with as a cursed amulet meant to cause as much grief as possible while being difficult to justify throwing away

[serpentface]

may i have the 10 wholly unasked for paragraphs of semen retention belief lore please 🙏

Ok

MEDICAL MODEL:

The philosophical core of Wardi medical model revolves around the universe’s primal dualism- it exists in between the extremes of Sea (cold wet dark female) and Sky (hot dry bright male). These forces are sterile and stagnant when separate, God emerged at their interacting boundaries as their synthesis, capable of creation. Life itself required God’s sacrifice of Its living spirit and the shedding of Its blood, which rendered sterile earth fertile and inhabitable and kicked of the perpetual death-rebirth flow of living spirit that maintains all life. The body is a reflection of this primordial state- it is maintained by the flow of living spirit (contained in the blood), and its core matter is an interactive mixture of primordial Hot Sky and Cold Sea, Warm in balance, with male and female physically differentiated by the presence of primordial extremes- the male has Hot testes, the female has Cold womb, the interaction of these extremes allow for creation.

(I promise this will have to do with semen retention eventually.)

Blood is understood as carrying the body’s living spirit, the animating force whose proper flow maintains life and health by balancing the body’s primordial extremes. Semen is a type of blood, given Hot nature by its isolation in the testes, and also carries the living spirit. It functions as the active seed of the living spirit. It is the Hot element planted in the Cold of the womb, the mingling of these forces allow for creation, and insemination with living spirit creates a living body that can host an immortal soul. (Wardi belief describes two souls- a living spirit that animates and maintains the body and an immortal soul that houses the mind).

Male gender designation revolves almost entirely around the testes, the Hot extreme of the body where semen is (assumed to be) produced and stored. In addition to its procreative functions, the testes are an organ whose function is to masculinize and strengthen the rest of the body. Each organ requires the proper flow of healthy blood/living spirit to function properly, and thus loss of this living spirit must be performed with great care- bloodletting in offering is highly controlled, bloodletting in medicine is carefully selected and done in accordance with balancing procedure. Since testes are regulated specifically by the living spirit in semen, semen should not be discharged with reckless abandon.

SOCIAL SEXUAL NORMS:

Cultural ideals for sexual behavior revolve around moderation and self-restraint. Sexuality itself is not demonized. There is nothing wrong with nonprocreative/nonmaritial sex in of itself (unless it is adultery on the part of a woman (male adultery is ostensibly bad too but is rarely treated as gravely), or a girl losing virginity prior to marriage, or it violates a litany of gender-sexual norms), but sexual RESTRAINT is an expectation.

Having an active but controlled libido is idealized, particularly in men. A man who is an absolute paragon of ideal masculinity has a libido, but is not ruled by it. He does not masturbate and rather seeks a partner for sexual release. He usually has a wife for this, and otherwise is capable of the patience and restraint to attain a quality sexual partner rather than finding the easiest release out of desperation. His partners are suitable to proper male interest, being good looking women or pretty beardless youths (going for 'unseemly' women or older, masculine men (so long as one performs the penetrative role) is not wholly unacceptable but suggests desperation and a weak control of libido).

This is an IDEAL and not strictly enforced- very few people will think you’re a weak failure of a man for jerking off sometimes or bragging about fucking some random tail, and hiring sex workers is entirely normalized (and will only be condemned if deemed notably ‘excessive’ and disruptive to a normal patriarchal role, or truly symptomatic of being unable to get laid without paying for it). Rather, if someone is already identified as a weak or effeminate man, ‘excessive libido’ may be cited as a cause or symptom, or rhetoric to criticize them.

THE SEMEN RETENTION:

Encouragement of semen retention/regulation stems out of both of these forces. Proper masculine social/sexual behavior encourages a limitation to discharge of semen, and medical thought deems it necessary for physical masculinization. A man who does not 'excessively' lose semen via an uncontrolled libido is thought to be physically more masculine- it is assumed to directly make the testes larger since they are Storing More Cum, but also to deepen the voice, assist in the growth and maintenance of the beard, and generally enhance strength, mental acuity, and vitality. Men are regarded as innately physically and mentally stronger than women, with the medical model slapped on as one of the means of explaining patriarchal norms (in addition to spiritual concerns of pollution and metaphysical vulnerability). Regulating semen is one of many behaviors that allows a man to stay this way.

This is also an element in why 'effeminacy' in men is linked to hypersexualization- there is an assumption that men who are physically or behaviorally non-masculine have exaggerated, uncontrolled libidos. Effeminancy or ‘softness’ in men is a failure to perform a wide set of behaviors and not strictly an accusation of receiving penetrative sex, but this is often an element- a man who receives is presumed so desperate and out of control of his libido that he will submit to debasement and shame for fulfillment (an un-masculine man who cannot be a penetrative partner could at least retain his dignity by having enough self-control to abstain entirely).

Some scholars, high ranking warriors, and politicians will (at least claim to) be functionally celibate and refrain from all discharge of semen in order to function at peak performance. This total abstinence is rare and NOT culturally mandated, and is often looked on with a little snide derision as a tryhard performance. More commonly, men will attempt to live a life with a controlled libido, and may temporarily abstain from sexual activity leading up to situations that require physical and mental acuity (combat, debate, sport, etc).

Of most concern to the average day to day person is accidental loss through nocturnal emission. While this is harmless every once in a while, it is cause for concern if it occurs frequently- your body is discharging part of its living spirit completely outside of your control, you are directly weakened by this and you don’t want this happening on a regular basis. Recurrent, frequent episodes may indicate polluted blood, or outright inhabitation by evil spirits.

The only level on which semen retention tends to be actively, directly enforced is with children. Teenage boys are typically discouraged from masturbating (especially during the early stages of puberty)- retention of semen masculinizes the body, therefore will contribute to a healthy and normative puberty and should be preserved at this vulnerable time. It is considered normal to chastise and punish a pubescent boy for masturbation. This is seen as preventing him from harming his health, and to teach him to regulate desire and exercise self control, one of many facets of shaping a boy into a proper man during this critical time. This norm does not contribute to children developing lingering psychological issues AT ALL.

Wardi traditional medicine is a holistic methodology of spiritual/physical treatment, using a base system of items (foods, animal parts, herbs, metals, stones) with Hot or Cold properties and individual Essences to manage imbalances in the body and it's blood/spirit flow and dispel evil spirits. This medical system (and related subdivisions of folk medicine) is commonly used to treat nocturnal emissions, and may also be used to lower libido and/or discourage teenage masturbation. These are largely medicines with Cold properties and noted anaphrodisiac Essence. Eels are a big one- given that eels, obviously, are sexless and emerge from river mud, their bodies are anaphrodisiacs and consumption of eel meat/eel based tinctures can lower libido (this should be done with caution, as it also lowers fertility in humans and animals). Medicines may be directly applied to the penis, this does not interfere with the intended function of the testes but subdues excess lust. Phallic amulets are worn regardless of gender and have holistic nonsexual protective properties, but may also help defend against nocturnal emission. Other medicines are worn in sachets that are tied around the hips during sleep, often weighted with lead. In very severe cases (mostly associated with other dysfunction), the penis or testes may be infected with polluted blood and should be bled.

---

Tangent: If the Wardi community had reddit you would occasionally see threads like "DAE eat their semen after masturbating so you don't actually lose any?" and most responses would be "no wtf" but there would be a decent number of people going "omg yes I thought I was the only one" "I mean that's kind of weird but I guess it makes sense if you really think about it" and then one very angry commenter ranting about how, No, eating your semen DOES NOT suffice as mitigation of the loss, this is why so many boys are SOFT AND EFFEMINATE these days, the men of old NEVER jacked off and NEVER ate their own cum and had MUCH FULLER BEARDS AND LARGER TESTICLES.

[ash-rigby]

Verdant Transmigration (Spring/Fertility God) [M/M]

Featured Characters: Male human and a male nature god.

Description: Marion, a cleric of one of his town's four resident nature deities, undergoes a ritual to become the next Vessel for Ta'lir who, among many things, is a god of fertility. A merging with Ta'lir requires a more physical element than a purely spiritual one.

Contains: Masked Nonhuman, Size Difference, Aphrodisiacs, Sex Magic, Fellatio, Hand Jobs, Self Lubrication, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Excessive Cum, Mild Cardiophilia.

Completion Date: March 23rd, 2024

Word Count: 3485

This isn't the next requested piece but it was the one I was getting ready to submit to this year's Spring issue of M❤️NSTER. I wound up not making the deadline but I like it too much to wait a year to share it, so I finished it up and here it is!

-

Marion walked into the ritual chamber under the gazes of many, his nude body catching the flickering firelight. He knelt on the floor of the temple as one of the other priests began to lay out a circle in sacred earth around him. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, drawing in the spicy yet floral smell of the incense. Drums beat softly on all sides and the sound of low flutes seemed to tickle the nape of his neck. 

He wasn’t nervous, as those around him expected him to be; he had spent the last three days since the previous Vessel’s death in deep meditation to prepare for being the next. Adola was a magnificent woman, a constant through all of Marion’s twenty-five years. A solemn presence with a gentle, motherly hand. Her grace had inspired him to devote his life to the god she carried within her—whom he would carry in her stead.

His city enjoyed the watchful eye of four nature gods, corresponding to the seasons and each with their unique divine favors to bestow. Some blessings and miracles, others that brought simple comforts through the unavoidable trials and pains of life. Whatever their will, it was channeled through a human host; a Vessel that embodied all they were and served the people. But a mortal body is a mortal body, releasing both spirits in death. 

With Adola’s passing, Ta’lir—a god of Spring—had returned to the Ethereal Grove where he fell into dormancy, awaiting rebirth into the mortal realm. The Transmigration ritual for each god involved a performance to inspire a merging of their spirit and that of the willing Vessel. There was the exuberant dance for Summer, a melancholy yet ultimately hopeful song for Autumn, and a grueling test of endurance through cold for Winter.

Ta’lir, among other things, represented fertility. Pleasures of the flesh were a common mode of worshipping him. As a priest of Ta’lir’s temple, Marion had partaken many times; alone, with one or two other clerics, and in the grand orgies. He was more than prepared for what was required of him in the ritual ahead. A spiritual and physical union with Ta’lir.

Marion felt a presence step in front of him. There was a rustle of fabric and the sound of bare feet padding against stone. He opened his eyes to see the High Priestess smiling warmly down at him, her face framed by long, brown hair. She held an ornate cup carved from wood in her hand which she leaned down to hand to him.

“Euphoric passage to the Grove,” she said in blessing as Marion took the cup.

He brought it to his lips, familiar with its contents. The cooled, maroon-coloured tea was brewed from a dried mix containing amiculus clover petals; a powerful aphrodisiac despite its mild, unremarkable flavour. Its influence on the body was enough to carry over even in the spirit through astral projection. Euphoric indeed.

Marion gave the empty cup back to the High Priestess. Another cleric, short in stature, took it from her and replaced it with a shallow bowl of dark paint. She knelt and began to mark him with the shapes and lines that would be branded into his skin once he merged with Ta’lir, denoting him as his Vessel. 

The tea quickly took effect. Heat swirled in Marion’s stomach before migrating lower as a pleasantly tingling pulse. His cock throbbed, gradually filling without a single touch until it stood erect. Need washed over him but he would not be stroking himself or seeking partners in the crowd around him. For once, that wasn’t a part of things; his body and ecstasy were promised solely to Ta’lir that day.

Marion breathed, his cock full and heavy. The High Priestess’ touch was warm and soft, her captivating bluish-grey eyes frequently holding his as she worked. He shivered at the memories of times he had the honor of worshipping with her. A hitched gasp left him, hips jolting slightly, as she finished the final line—a single, agonizingly slow stroke up the underside of his shaft.

She left him panting in the center of the circle, stepping back to join the other clerics who began to chant. The sacred earth gradually gained a bright green glow. Fractal patterns drew themselves into existence and spread inwards from it. As they reached Marion, the lines painted on him erupted with the same light. He was struck by the extraordinary pleasure of it.

His entire body felt alight and sensitive. Nobody was touching him, but the very air seemed to caress and tease. The chanting grew louder, the glow around him flaring as the ripples of invisible sensation intensified. It was like a fire; wild, blazing, hungry. Nipping, licking and leaving trails of desperation across every inch of him.

He fell back and only just managed to catch and hold himself up on his shaking arms, legs spreading open of their own accord. The flutes faded out but the drums beat harder, the sound of them pounding through him. Somehow in perfect time with every throb of his leaking cock. 

Marion tilted his head back, face angled at the ceiling bathed in that green light. Splayed out like this—wantonly moaning and achingly erect—he couldn’t help but feel like a beast crying out for another of its kind to mate. With that thought, the words came to him, spilling from his lips as if someone else had seized his voice.

“Take me, Ta’lir,” he implored to his dormant god. “Oh, Lord of my flesh. My erotic master. Take me!”

His vision became an all-consuming white. Images flooded his mind but did not linger on a single one for long. Wet, dripping holes swallowing his shaft. Slick cocks rubbing against his own. Tangles of hot, sweaty bodies thrusting and grinding. Groping hands. Eager mouths. On top of the drums and chanting came a rising, desperate cacophony of disembodied moans.

Just as Marion felt it all coming to a head, like he might just cum, a hand was placed on the center of his chest. It gave a hefty push and everything stopped. 

The surging, full-body pleasure was whisked away in a second. Though his cock still strained and he could feel the effects of the tea coursing through him. Silence settled around him like a fog, broken only by his heaving breaths. 

Marion was outside; he could feel a cool breeze on his naked form. There was birdsong and the whisper of leaves. The smell of earth, flowers, and petrichor filled his senses. He only realized then that the white light was gone, leaving darkness. His eyes were closed. Feeling slightly foolish, he opened them and awe took his breath.

The Grove was laid out in all its glory before him.

He was kneeling on a stone circle, carved with the same patterns that had sprung up in light back in the temple. Four tall, mossy pillars rose around him, made into the shape of rabbits standing on their hind legs, noses pointed skyward. Beyond that was a rich, verdant sprawl; long grasses, full bushes, and a dense wood that ringed the clearing he was in.

Directly ahead was a short staircase which led to a colossal tree. Marion gazed at its thick trunk and spotted a carved-out portion in the middle which contained a floating, glowing green mass. Lower still, sitting on a throne that melded into the tree, was the unmoving form of Ta’lir. 

Marion stood, not expecting the strength in his legs given what he had just gone through, and walked towards him. He had seen all of the sculptures, scrolls, and murals depicting Ta’lir’s likeness, but nothing could have prepared him for the radiance of the genuine article. 

Even sitting, the god was tall. Whatever visage he had, if any, was completely obscured by a wooden mask of a hare’s head that bore three eyes. There was a thick, lush mantle of vegetation growing from his shoulders that flared behind his head, speckled through with flowering clover. The torso and arms of the body looked carved from wood, though sleek. Marion could see the intricacies of it. There were joints that would allow Ta’lir to move with the ease of flesh and bone. 

The chest was a hollow like the one he had seen in the tree, though the hole was grated over with thin, uneven, wooden lines that intersected and split here and there. The result was a myriad of varying-sized, ovular holes. There were no innards to speak of; sunlight peaked through them to show the solid plane of the other side.

The wood of the upper half faded into the more flesh-like appearance of the lower, though green and mossy. Marion swallowed when his eyes travelled there and he laid eyes on it. Though dormant, Ta’lir was sporting a large, impressive erection. His thick shaft, with its enticing slight upward curve, stood proudly. Waiting. Propelled by piety and arousal that had far from relented, Marion wasted no time in kneeling between his god’s legs.

His hands lighted on Ta’lir’s thighs. The cock before him was almost intimidating, but reverence won out. He mouthed at the hanging, virile balls before working his way upwards. The taste was an ambrosia on his watering, roaming tongue. He licked the sensitive underside of the head, bringing his hand up to the shaft as he did. The sheer girth of it showed itself as his fingers couldn’t close around it.

Marion closed his lips over the round tip, stroking all he could. As he did, he felt a sudden throb against his palm. It came with a sound; a deep, heavy heartbeat sounding above him. He looked up to see the mass in the tree beginning to pulse just as a bright green glow came to the eyes of Ta’lir’s mask.

The large body drew in a breath—into what lungs, Marion didn’t know—and released it with a low, appreciative groan. Ta’lir shifted, his head rolling on his shoulders before tilting down. Marion’s heart pounded as their eyes met, but he didn’t dare stop; he couldn’t bear the thought of taking his mouth or hands off Ta’lir. 

A chuckle, cavernous and gratified, resounded in his mind rather than outward.

“Hello, dear one,” Ta’lir said, his voice thrumming through Marion’s entire being. It was reminiscent of the feeling he experienced during the ritual, though far less sourceless. “And have my thanks for—mmhn—for restoring me.”

Marion responded by taking Ta’lir further into his mouth, bobbing his head and pumping his hand over hot, turgid flesh. The god moaned and it went straight to Marion’s dick, spurring such an intense throb that his eyes briefly rolled. He could cum like this. Just from sucking Ta’lir’s cock. Just from the divine presence of his voice. He upped his pace, yearning to please and dizzy from the pleasure of every noise his efforts worked out.

“I know you,” Ta’lir said. “This eagerness…this lust. Oh, sweet Marion.”

With a wet sound, Marion pulled off of Ta’lir, his hand never stilling as his chest warmed in admiration.

“My reputation precedes me, Lord?” he asked breathlessly, eyelids flickering from the simple action of Ta’lir brushing a tender finger behind his ear—what it was going to feel like getting fucked by this being in this state was beyond his comprehension.

“Come here,” Ta’lir said, tapping his thigh. “Let me see you.”

Marion obeyed, climbing up into his god’s lap and straddling him. His cock raged, weeping onto Ta’lir; a simple but effective tribute. He was panting, well aware of his hole’s proximity to what every part of his insides ached for. Three glowing eyes gazed upon him. Though no emotion could be discerned from them, he could sense the radiating fondness. 

“Such a handsome figure,” Ta’lir marveled, fingertips lightly trailing over his Vessel’s sides. The smile in his tone was felt. “And this…”

His hand went to Marion’s dick, taking it between his massive forefinger and thumb. He began to stroke. Slow pass up. Pause. Slow pass down. The pattern repeated as he remained fixated on Marion’s face, drinking in his moans.

“My previous Vessel was a woman without this,” Ta’lir said. “I did love the change of pace, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss burying myself.”

Marion gasped; unable to speak, shaking from his god’s touch and the waves of his voice.

“You must get a lot of attention,” Ta’lir continued, stroking a little faster. “Such a big, gorgeous cock. This heat…and you throb so strongly. I can’t wait for it to be mine. Oh…we’ll do great things together.”

Marion felt his other hand reach to caress the small of his back, gliding down over the mounds of his ass. A long, dexterous finger breached him with surprising ease; was it his imagination or was he wet? His spirit’s burning desire to take Ta’lir into him in more ways than one must have manifested such things. That one, brief coherent thought melted away as he was deeply penetrated, a second finger swiftly joining the first.

They pumped rapidly, striking true against that near-blindingly sensitive spot inside him. His body jolted, back locking into a rigid, trembling arch as his breath halted. He was lightheaded by the time he was able to suck in air again through in quick, whimpering heaves. With a loud wail, he partially collapsed against Ta’lir, his fingers curling onto the inconsistent lattice that was his chest.

“T-Ta-Ta’lir! I can’t, I can’t—ahh!” Marion cried. “I’ll c-cum. I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum! I’m—!”

“Not until I do,” Ta’lir corrected, almost sing-song. “By what other power did you think we become one? I’ve been asleep for days…allow me some amusement.”

Marion’s head swum, time becoming an unknown blur. He wasn’t sure how long he experienced Ta’lir fucking him on his fingers, but every second was exquisite. If one was keen to equate the word to denial, that is; and he was. 

“You’re amazing, Marion,” Ta’lir praised. “Sucking me in so well. If this is how you take my fingers, then—.”

“Please, Lord,” Marion begged, forgetting himself at a mere insinuation. “I…I need it—.” 

“Not yet, my dear,” Ta’lir said, probing faster into the wet, yielding passage. “Not yet.”

True to Ta’lir’s promise, release didn’t come. Marion remained tottering on its edge. He bounced unconsciously, meeting the thrusts of those thick, relentless fingers. His cock felt engorged, hugged by his balls as his body was trapped in those euphoric seconds before orgasm. The roiling pressure, the fever overtaking his shaft, feeling the rivers he was leaking. He had never known such ecstasy; the Grove’s influence was a marvel.

Marion felt no exhaustion when Ta’lir finally removed his fingers. There was only exhilaration and hunger. He shifted his hips, moving until his ass found Ta’lir’s dick. Meeting the glowing eyes once more, he nudged it insistently. His hole was dripping. Twitching. Wanting.

There was that chuckle again. “How rude of me. Please, take a seat.”

“Thank you, Lord…thank you.”

Marion lined himself up and lowered down. His body shouldn’t have been able to take it entirely. Couldn’t have been able to. But it did, opening up as if driven by pure devotion. Every broad inch claimed him slowly until Ta’lir bottomed out. 

“Oh…oh, you’re perfect,” Ta’lir praised. 

The joy of such a connection with his god was overwhelming and Marion nearly cried. He sat there in hopelessly aroused disbelief, stuffed full and feeling every pulse that throbbed alongside that constant heartbeat. It grew faster as he began to grind.

He kept it slow; now that Ta’lir was inside him, he found himself wanting to savour it. Shallow thrusts were achieved as he lifted up slightly and slid back down. Even that pace felt like being stirred up, the sheer size of Ta’lir’s cock stretching him past his usual limits. His sweltering walls caressed and squeezed—mostly of his own doing, but involuntary clenches were inevitable.

“Yes,” Ta’lir breathed, a visible shiver running through his large frame. “Dance for me.”

His hands came up to cup Marion’s undulating torso, settling over his ribs as the thumbs found his nipples. The wide pads rolled and teased. Marion arched into the touch, expelling a breath that was equal parts a moan and a laugh; it tickled for a moment before settling on pleasure.

It wasn’t long before Ta’lir took control again. Effortlessly, he began to lift Marion up and down his cock. He would get him halfway up the shaft before dropping him to the hilt, that mysterious slick leaking out around him. His head tilted back against the throne as he groaned long and deep.

“Take me…take me.”

Marion’s breath hitched at hearing his own words echoed at him. “I’m yours.”

Ta’lir growled, a sound juxtaposed with the serene herbivore his mask depicted. It was more arousing than it had any right to be. He gripped Marion’s hips and began to pound up into him, grunting with each thrust. His cock seemed impossibly harder; thicker, swelling in its confines.

Marion’s mouth was open, stunned silence occasionally broken by moans cracking his voice to a higher register. He swallowed up that monstrous shaft as if he had been made as its sheath. Like he would be hollow without it. But Ta’lir would fill his empty spaces. Until death parted their spirits.

“I’m yours, I’m yours—ahhh, I’m yours!” he chanted.

He felt himself moving. Ta’lir was standing, hands supporting Marion’s ass as his cock stilled firmly inside. He turned them so he could kneel backwards on his throne and press Marion into its back. His thrusting resumed, faster than his previous position had allowed. A quick clap of meeting flesh filled the Grove.

Marion clutched at Ta’lir. The scent of earth and something more akin to a mammalian musk flooded his nose. The latter grew stronger the more Ta’lir thrust, close to overwhelming the rest and laced with intoxicating pheromones. Marion could practically taste it and drool began to gather in his mouth. He moaned, his hole becoming a desperate vice against the burning beast of a shaft plunging into him.

Gone were Ta’lir’s words, replaced by growls and other feral noises of pleasure as he slammed. Those once-gentle hands gripped, digging deeply into the meat of Marion’s ass. His precum was abundant and incessant in its flow, adding to the lewd squelch of every thrust. It had to be running down his balls, making a mess and dripping onto his throne.

The ever-present heartbeat above their writhing forms raced. Marion was vaguely aware of the glow of that pulsing mass reaching for them in vein-like streaks down the tree’s trunk. Their markings ignited and he felt the first tell-tale throbs making their way through his cock, matching the pace of that pulse. He was close. They were close.

“Cum with me,” Ta’lir said, his voice rough. “Cum…with…!”

He suddenly stilled deep inside and warmth surged into Marion a split second before his own orgasm gripped him. He wailed, explosive ecstasy rushing into every extremity as he excessively came. It seemed endless, spurting from him as his hole milked a similar, copious stream from Ta’lir. 

There was a flood; dripping down his sides, flowing into him. Pump after pump. Two voices, loudly moaning, were beginning to be drowned out by the furious thumping of the tree’s pulse.

Marion’s vision whited and—.

He was back in the temple, kneeling in that circle. His abdomen and thighs were covered in splatters of his own cum. It didn’t cease upon his return, pleasure working through him and making his hips buck as his cock continued to burst. His hole twitched uncontrollably; he could still feel the heat of Ta’lir’s seed and the stretch of his girth. The room was silent save for his own unrestrained moans as his divine orgasm was given proper reverence. 

A faintness washed over Marion as the magic tied to the ritual abated. He collapsed and was descended upon by some of the other clerics. They welcomed him back—a greeting for him and their god. He was vaguely aware of being wrapped in multi-coloured, flower-embroidered cloth and carried to the baths. Gentle hands cleaned him with steaming, pleasant-smelling water as he continued to shiver.

Through heavy eyes, he inspected what he could see of himself. The painted marks had permanently bonded to his skin in swirling lines of brilliant emerald green. But otherwise, he felt no different and a distant pang of concern came to him.

Did it work? Had he been enough?

The High Priestess was carding her fingers through his hair when a familiar voice came to him, clear in his mind; murmurs of praise and contagious excitement for a promising future.

End

Masterlist

[codingquill]

Network switches

What’s a network switch ?

A switch is a device used in computer networks to connect multiple devices together within a single local area network (LAN). Its main role is to facilitate communication between different connected devices, such as computers, printers, servers, IP phones, etc.

It is a mini-computer which is made up of RAM, ROM, flash RAM, NVRAM, a microprocessor, connectivity ports and even an operating system.

RAM

RAM (Random Access Memory) contains the current configuration of the switch and temporarily stores the MAC address table, which is then processed by the microprocessor.

Microprocessor

The microprocessor is the heart of the switch, responsible for data processing, including switching and creating links between multiple devices.

External memories

External memories, such as flash RAM, ROM, and NVRAM (Non-Volatile RAM), store configuration files , different versions of the IOS , etc ...

Ports

The switch ports are the communication interfaces of the switch. There are several of them, generally 24 for a Cisco switch. Each port is associated with an LED which indicates its status and activity.

How does it work ?

Now how does a switch work to transfer information from one machine to another?

Suppose we have 4 machines: A, B, C and D connected to our switch in ports 1, 2, 3 and 4 as follows:

The switch only works with MAC addresses , so basically we have an empty MAC address table stored in RAM as soon as the switch starts up which looks like this : 

Transmitting data from machine A to machine B happens in the following steps:

Machine A sends a frame to machine B

Once this frame arrives at port 1 (which is the one linked to A), the switch reads the source MAC address and stores it in the MAC address table

The switch reads the destination MAC address and looks for it in the table, if it is not in the table, it broadcasts to all the active machines connected to the switch except the source one.

If the port linked to the machine we want is active, it sends a response frame from which the switch reads the MAC address we were looking for (@B)

Once done, it records the MAC address of B in the table.

This process repeats until the switch reaches what is called "MAC address table stability", that is to say it knows all the MAC addresses of the connected machines and has no more need to broadcast.

Starting and configuring a switch

When it comes to booting a switch, the process is similar to that of a traditional computer system:

POST (Power-On Self Test): The switch performs proper functioning tests on all hardware.

Loading IOS (Internetwork Operating System): The switch operating system is loaded.

Loading the configuration. At this stage we have two cases:

Either the switch already has a startup configuration defined and stored in NVRAM

Either the switch is blank and it is up to us to define the startup configuration when it goes to setup mode

Switch configuration

The configuration of a switch is done through different modes, such as user mode, privileged mode and global configuration mode, which allows access to specific configuration modes, such as interface mode, routing mode, line mode, etc.

And to do all this of course you must first connect the switch with the machine via the console cable and open a terminal emulator

💡 It should be noted that the only machine that can configure the switch is the one connected to it by a console cable, the others are only hosts.

[myimaginedcorner]

SCALES OF JUSTICE - BETA TESTERS NEEDED

Hi dear readers,

Thank you for your overwhelming trust and support. The opinions that I've collected over the past few days have finally motivated me to put aside my self-criticism and doubt, and to make the next step towards SoJ's release.

Yes, Scales of Justice is now officially in its BETA-test phase!!

If you would like to help me by being a BETA-tester for my book, please, comment under this post, send me a direct message, or message me on CoG's forum. I aim to take around 20 to 30 people, so we can have a big and productive group that nonetheless remains constructive in its feedback.

If you don't have the time or you don't want to be a tester, consider sharing this post, so it can get to as many of you as possible.

I will be working alongside the testers on improving style, grammar, and other minor details that require polishing as the month progresses. Hopefully, by the end of it we'll have an even better version of this book that will be submitted for approval to Hosted Games!

See you all very soon,

Julia xx

BOOK DETAILS:

DEMO DESCRIPTION:

Scales of Justice is a fantasy game situated in another world, far away from Earth. There are plenty of species living together in harmony, but the human race is currently split in two civilisations: the one known as Hero kingdom, which is ruled by ‘heroes’, and the one named Vannais kingdom, controled by ‘villains’. Both nations hate each other and the fight between ‘heroes’ and ‘villains’ here is something that happens on a national level. The game is focused on lore, on character development and your own perception of reality: perhaps, your MC just wants to live a peaceful life... or maybe wants to save the world.

Or even rule it, if you’re into such things.

THINGS TO DO IN THIS DEMO:

Set off on a new adventure towards Neutral Lands, to meet a mythic creature of all answers - The Visionary.

Gather up to 3 companions to help you in your quest - befriend, romance or rival them, the choice is yours.

Buy a horse - we know you want one.

Fight, conjure, support, speak or think - choose your way of handling a tricky situation.

Explore the kingdom of Hero up to Menai's shore, in search for someone - or something - to aid you in your journey.

The DEMO version of the book runs up to Chapter 5 and contains 276K words overall. I will be putting up updated versions of the first chapters as I work my way through them, so expect the DEMO version to become a polished reflection of what the final book will look like!

USEFUL LINKS:

If you want to know a little more about this project and read chapters 1-5, I'll leave the link to the game here -> https://dashingdon.com/play/myimaginedcorner/scales-of-justice/mygame/

If you want to discuss anything on CoG's forum, I'll leave the link for SoJ here -> https://forum.choiceofgames.com/t/wip-scales-of-justice-new-project-announcement-and-demo-release/101088/16

If you want to send me a more extensive feedback, here's my email -> feedbackscalesofjustice@gmail.com

Any mistakes, concerns or questions you have, feel free to contact me through Tumblr! I am very excited to share this story with all of you, and I want to make it as good as possible with your help!

RO DESCRIPTIONS:

Shoren/Seile -> Heir to the Hero kingdom's throne, right where your journey starts. Also, your old friend who's very attached to you. Likes to read and practices magic, enjoys adventure and heroic deeds. A recognised “hero”, with blonde curly hair, pale skin and a pair of beautiful blue eyes.

Robert/Reina -> Order's Paladin, defender of Hero and Knight of Fate. Brave and honourable, determined to protect the people of the kingdom. Very loyal to friends and very dangerous as an enemy. Has short brown hair, tanned skin and an athletic build.

Valerius/Venis -> An Outworlder, who was caught by cultists from the Wicked Woods. Gracious, elegant and charismatic. Has long dark brown hair with a silver streak, olive skin and golden eyes.

Arion/Aria -> Leader of Vannais, a recognised “villain” who escaped from Hero and now rules the enemy kingdom. Serious, reserved but temperamental. Prefers action over words and so is always present on battlefields and amidst negotiations, even though never in official manner. Has short blonde hair, pale skin and emerald eyes.

Be careful! These characters have their thoughts and opinions on the world and your actions: if you want them to support you, convince them or take their side… or neither. That is your choice after all!

[ineedahugtm]

Hello! This was into response about someone complaining about Hazbin Hotels (admittedly) pretty bad pacing so strap in for 8 paragraphs outlining the history of television and how Hazbin hotel’s terrible pacing fits into this.

So here’s a little (unneeded but still fun) history of television. So as we transitioned from the Radio Era a full season was 39 weeks (3 quarters of a year) and was preformed live, during the rest of the year that time slot would be designated for replacement shows because show hosts have to vacation at some point in their lives.

Anyways due to primitive recording techniques making reruns virtually impossible, the industry standard of replacement shows continued into television. Although finally by mid-fifties reruns were more possible and commonplace. From this point on the number of episodes began to decline, by the late 60’s the 46 episode standard season became 26 instead. (1ep per week is half the year meaning reruns for the other half so that every show could be repeated once a lot easier than the longer seasons of the past )

Essentially broadcast networks wanted more bang for their buck

Then came the miniseries format in the 70’s. Usually about 13 episodes telling stories week to week that were self contained (Think Phineas and Ferb, the episodes have no impact on each other) Also 13 is half of what a normal season was so networks would use this if a project was on the edge of cancellation.

Also in the 70’s networks would cancel shows mid year (now it’s after the November sweeps) so they’d order shows in 12 episode groups and if the ratings weren’t good enough a new one would replace it in January.

By the 90’s it kept getting shorter ordering shows in either 8, 16, or 24 episode seasons. For almost all new shows that a network isn’t sure about they give 8 episodes to test out the waters and see how fans react and that’s what I believe Amazon Prime did for Hazbin Hotel.

And so after an entire history lesson of television, let’s talk about Hazbin Hotel.

So let’s get one thing straight, yeah the pacing of HH is not great and definitely could be improved upon. From what it looks like, we’re supposedly watching a show that has a time span of about 6 months in between 8 episodes which gives no time to develop almost anything but plot relevant to the extermination. However like I just spent the past 4 paragraphs leading up to, season’s episodes are only getting shorter and shorter, not to mention that it’s up to the networks to tell the show how many episodes it’s going to be getting. So with 8 episodes to tell decades worth of planning a world out for Hazbin Hotel I’m sure that’s a little hard, especially with all of the characters that we love and want screen time for (remember how everyone was mad at Encanto for the pacing as well? The plot was there but the movie was too short for the amount of characters and stories that they wanted to tell)

Additionally it’s been said that the team didn’t know that the show was getting a second season until half way through production (I don’t have any sources to back this one up but I’ve heard it going around a few places) so it seems like this season was planned like it was the only season we would be getting which would explain why everything is so fast paced.

Hopefully with that second season (and maybe more) they will feel more fluid and organic but for now we need to understand that this is just the first season and that the rough start shouldn’t be entirely on the blame of the show itself. If your mad about something sure, I’m down to put the blame on those responsible- but I think instead of being mad at the show, or saying “I’m disappointed in the show” we should shift the blame onto the networks who put such small episode constraints on not just Hazbin hotel- but all new shows! Sure if you have a well thought out story that you can tell in 8 episodes then that’s great! But too many shows are forced to rush through their plot because of greedy networks enforcing restraints on the creativity of the shows their hosting

[mariacallous]

Anna Kai believes in self-gaslighting. On TikTok, as @itsmaybeboth, she markets beauty products for Garnier, Nivea, and Nexxus Hair Care while dispensing relationship advice to her 1.3 million followers. “If you can gaslight yourself into believing the man that doesn’t love you actually loves you, then why can’t you gaslight yourself into believing you will find a man who actually does?”

For Blaine Anderson, finding the right partner is all about savvy marketing, which “great guys often SUCK at,” a note on her website exclaims. She has hacks for every possible scenario that can, and will, arise during the dating process: how to text like a “high-value man,” what first-date mistakes to avoid, how to make women obsessed, and the best ways to attract them without talking. In case you were curious, it starts with good posture and grooming. “If you haven’t been shopping since the Obama administration, it’s time,” she says in a video uploaded to TikTok in May.

“As a relationship therapist, I’ve literally spent my career studying the art of attraction and human psychology, so I know that these things work,” Kimberly Moffit, a Toronto-based psychotherapist, said in a TikTok video from 2022. Maybe your crush is shy and you want to know if he is “micro-flirting” with you? One tell-tale sign: dirty jokes. “An aggressive guy is just gonna hit on you,” she said, “but a shy guy is really gonna test the waters first.”

If you haven’t heard, it’s boom times for dating influencers. According to a new survey of single adults aged 18 to 62 conducted by the app Flirtini, one in four people rely on TikTok as their primary source of relationship information, and almost 50 percent of people surveyed turn to social media for dating advice.

This phenomenon has created an ecosystem of thoughtful, overzealous, trend-chasing dating influencers who think they know what’s best for you. The marketplace is now overrun with gurus offering up romantic hacks and how-tos to anyone who will listen. Everyone from credentialed therapists and life coaches to that annoying friend who just discovered bell hooks’ All About Love and wants to share everything they learned brands themselves a dating influencer these days. The effect has been seismic. On TikTok, the hashtags #datingadvice and #relationshipadvice have upwards of 16 billion views.

And it’s not all bad advice per se. Kai’s self-gaslighting tip is actually quite clever. (Kai and the other influencers mentioned in this story did not respond to messages seeking comment.) There’s just one problem: Relationship misinformation is spreading fast.

A growing number of young adults now get their news from TikTok, according to a 2023 Pew Research Center study, “so it makes sense that they’d turn to the app for relationship advice too,” says Liesel Sharabi, a professor at Arizona State University who specializes in the effect technology has on interpersonal relationships. The increased reliance on the platform as a go-to source for romantic guidance has led many users to form parasocial relationships with advice-giving influencers. Unlike face-to-face, IRL relationships, these tend to be one-way. But emotionally, they feel like the real thing.

“Someone might feel like they’re getting dating advice from a trusted friend because they’ve developed such a strong sense of familiarity and connection with that person,” Sharabi says. “The problem is that when it comes to dating, there are plenty of people who call themselves experts on TikTok without any sort of training or qualifications, which can make it difficult to separate fact from opinion.”

Not all advice is created equal. As dating influencers gain more traction across social media, the proliferation of relationship misinformation becomes harder to contain. This, Sharabi describes, is “false or misleading information about relationships that can’t be evaluated using scientific data and which may perpetuate harmful stereotypes.”

The increased spread of questionable dating advice is having real-world consequences. According to the Flirtini study, 46 percent of people faced relationship struggles after following TikTok advice, with 23 percent saying it led to a break up. It begs the question: Has our need to be plugged in all the time—let's face it, many of us are hooked on the booze of social media—outweighed our rationale as humans, leading people to look for advice from the wrong people?

“Relationship advice that is attention-grabbing may not always be the most sound or accurate to people’s actual relationship needs,” says Aparajita Bhandari, an academic at the University of Waterloo who’s conducted research on TikTok. “The way our current online attention economy works breeds content that is outrageous or tends toward misinformation because it is what goes viral and gets views. Unhealthy ideas or advice can spread so quickly on a platform like TikTok that it can be difficult to even trace back to one specific source.”

For some dating influencers, love is not actually the endgame—status and comfort are. There is a dedicated core of influencers who can teach you how to marry rich, live comfortably, and never work again. For them, it is all about “high-value” dating. Love is simply the icing on the cake to a life of worry-free, jet-setting luxury.

Shera Seven is a household name among this contingent of dating influencers, beloved for her matter-of-fact approach to modern partnership. In her eyes, love is nothing more than a business transaction. “Make sure the second date is a money date. The faster you get him to spend money, the faster he attaches to you,” Seven recommended in a recent video. “You’re seeing him as a provider, a baller—and he might not even see himself that way—but now that you are perceiving him that way, he’s going to start acting that way. Drag him into your delusion.”

Influencers with large followings like Seven, Cam Donnez, and Niko of The Daddy Academy carry an impression of social authority, and therefore credibility, says Makana Chock, a communications professor at Syracuse University. But something else is also at work. More and more, TikTok is being used as a search engine in the same way many of us use Google.

“Relationships are areas where people often feel the greatest insecurities and need advice. We are sometimes, however, reluctant to turn to personal contacts for help,” Chock adds. “We may be reluctant to reveal weaknesses, concerned about close others’ conflicting motivations, or skeptical about their relationship skills.”

But relying too heavily on TikTok’s algorithm has repercussions, especially in matters of the heart. “The algorithm isn’t necessarily incentivized to recommend the most scientifically sound advice,” Sharabi says. “It’s going to prioritize content that leads to engagement in terms of likes, followers, and views. What makes something go viral on TikTok isn’t necessarily that it’s good advice—in some cases, it might even be the opposite.”

[st-agatha-city]

I’m obsessively interested in this game, but I don’t have a PC or MacBook (u don’t even want to know how hard I tried to get it to work with shady Windows-emulator apps and sheer dumb hope 💀 ) SOO I was wondering if anyone has posted a play-through or anything? Or if there’s a wiki or smth where I can at least read the lore? Idk help I’m going insane 😭

Oh my gosh - I am so flattered!! There are no play-throughs YET (barring my own crummy demos of like... 2 different routes?), and there are infrequent streams from small creators, but I will absolutely be posting here if I or anyone else releases a Let's Play!

My YouTube can be found here! Animatics and voice actor previews are put here, as well as some AMV oddities and the like :) I haven't updated in quite some time because YouTube scares me now I've been busy with IRL stuff and programming, but I intend to update the channel in the future :)

My St. Agatha Play Through footage can be found here!

As for keeping up to date with fan content, projects, and lore -

My Toyhouse acts as an informal wiki. Many pages are under construction or contain outdated info, but will be updated overtime, especially if prompted to make any pages or characters a priority :) You can do that in my DMs, inbox, on Toyhouse, or via Discord (more on that in a second.)

If you want a Toyhouse code to join the site (as anyone can view, but only invited members can utilize it's services) for the purpose of leaving comments, saving things to your favorites, or for storing your own characters and lore - DM me here! I can get you one no problem :) I also make tutorials and answer questions on how to use the site, as it has a fairly steep learning curve, but is WELL worth the time if you have it to spend. I love it so so much now that I know how to use it.

People who are sixteen or older can join the Discord! It's invite only, but you are encouraged to message me for access! You can meet other fans, see WIPs, and ask questions to me or others in-the-know more directly :) I also do dev tests and we host live play throughs there!

⚠️ Heads up - the themes and subject matter of this game are discussed openly. This is a mature, but not adult game. There is no nudity or pornographic content, but there might be references to this as well as to gore, death, drug use, assault, and animal violence. As for other potential triggers - suggestive humor, references and cartoon depictions of violence and mild gore can be seen in art and fan art. Any art involving blood will be censored :) We do not tag self harm scars, but do tag open self harm wounds in art. That's another thing to keep in mind.

These are matters of importance or passing importance in the game, mostly in character backstory, they can be expected to be brought up in the server, and I don't advise joining if this might be a deal breaker for you

This server is also plural friendly, and hosts both pluralkit and tupperbox. The server is also pro-endo, and I will not be entertaining discourse on the matter.

I'll do some asking around to see if anyone has seen or has been considering doing a Let's Play! I've had some people bring that up to me before.

Thanks for sending in the ask!! And thank you for your interest 💌

[inaris-pokemon-world]

Okay, I'm sorry if I'm not supposed to do this, but I can't help it! I love apocalyptic scenarios, so...

• The disease that plagues the lands and killed off most of the humans was man-made, and the project was called "Project Breathe." Millions of self-replicating AI-guided nanomachines that were designed to be more efficient at combating diseases than standard vaccinations. They spread through the air, much like the typical strategies employed by most pathogens, but they were supposed to do the exact polar opposite rather than make the host sick. When a host is infected, the machines do what they were programmed to do, or try to, but end up attacking the wrong targets and ending up destroying the host's body in the process. This infection has been given the street name "Red cough" since individuals who are infected often cough blood due to the damage being caused to their respiratory systems by the machines. Other symptoms include mild to severe intestinal distress and pain, mild to severe pain in certain muscles and joints, red and irritated eyes, mild to severe weakness and lack of energy for daily tasks, mild to severe delirium, and finally, death, which usually occurs during sleep and deep states of rest. Due to the strongly adaptive nature of the machines, they are notoriously elusive and difficult to treat using any currently known methods, making finding a cure highly unlikely. Their highly adaptive nature has also led to them jumping species to Pokemon, starting with the more "human-like mon" due to their similarities with humans in terms of anatomy and bodily functions, leading to a new strain of Red Cough that specifically infects Pokemon. The outbreak all started with a failed attempt by a group of individuals attempting to steal the canister containing Project Breathe, which ended up broken during their apprehension by the authorities and ended up infecting everyone on the scene, who then went on to spread the machines and begin the pandemic.

• Despite the span of time that went by, some humans still remain. Mostly the ones who lived in areas isolated from the general population, or the ones who prepared accordingly. Though they usually don't interact with others outside of their homes, Pokemon included, and are VERY antisocial when they have to go outside the confines of their homes. Actively and STRONGLY avoiding interaction with Pokemon and other humans out of fear of infection, but also because, as humans, the Red Cough isn't the only thing they have to worry about. As Pokemon have been taking over where humans have left off, some Pokemon grieve the loss of their human comrades, making efforts to preserve what remains of them while forming organizations devoted to seeking out any surviving humans and helping them stay alive, and hopefully ensuring the continuation of their existence, while other Pokemon blame humans for what is happening and are frankly glad that they're finally dying off, making humans out to be monsters and diseases of their own that should be eradicated at all costs while their numbers are still weak. This, in turn, adds to the many conflicts out there in the new world, simply adding to the chaos at times.

• It is entirely unknown why the Red Cough does not affect Inaris and her baby. Perhaps they hold the key to putting an end to the nightmare known as the Red Cough. Though it may mean they'd be, once again, locked away in another lab, for Arcuos knows how long, being likely subjected to various tests, pokes, and prods. And it is also unclear if they'll both be able to see the result of their contributions since sometimes, in order to make a miracle happen, a sacrifice must be made. Whether or not Inaris goes through with any of this is completely up to her, and it's also completely up to whoever approaches her with this proposal to be reasonable or unreasonable...

• Matcha and Inaris's other child are unfortunately not immune to the Red Cough. They can still catch it, suffer from it, and be killed by it.

Also, optional bonus: Can you draw Inaris, how you'd think she'd look in this AU, based on how you described her in the texts previously?

Here is the form Inari is seen in most often. It’s her go-to disguise because she can hold it longer than any other (since Raichu have similar anatomy to Mew). A lot of this overlaps with what I would do with the au (though I didn’t think of nanomachines, that’s really clever :0), though I will say Inari’s other child would also be immune to the disease because of [spoilers].

[qfzeeph]

love love love seeing Kijo Togami headcanons on the byakuya tag AAAAAAAAA and honestly it got me inspired to share my own!!!!! heheheheh I kinda homebrewed the Plot Twist™ and new lore regarding... certain things... from Project Raincode into this so if you don't want spoilers for that I don't recommend clicking the read more. Though that being said it's very much a homecooked-homebrewed version of it so it's also not reflective of what's canon in the universe also. The plot twist IS still talked about however!

so a lot of my writing for Kijo is centered around my own lore (which contains a lot of oc x canon because hehe funny i have no self control) so I'm mainly gonna be focusing on the stuff that isn't super duper specific to that. Also, all of this takes place in the Non-Despair Timeline.

So first of all, tl;dr on my funky version of the Homunculus Project is that some people either became homunculi via injection of DNA or they could have a body double. Body doubles could either live alongside the host OR have their consciousness transferred into a homunculus body. Typically, only high ranking people were offered the latter option. Also in my take on it, they found a way to negate the sunlight sensitivity and the Amaterasu Corporation cut corners that unintentionally made it so all of their subjects to have the issue. The Unified Government's experiments also successfully prevented permadeath, but they didn't know the effect was only short term and after a certain number of years "dying" would result in zombification.

•Kijo was one of the very first people to have his consciousness transferred into a Homunculus body, since he was extremely eager to become even more perfect than he already was. He was a huge backer and part of the project as a whole, seeing as the Togami Conglomerate has such a prominent place in the global government.

•One of the head scientists, a french DNA sequencer, was also one of the very first people to do this as well. She was able to do so despite not having the same status as the billionares because she contributed so much to the project. She decided to work on the project because she was born infertile and wanting nothing more than to have a kid of her own, and being transplanted into a new body was, at least in her mind, the only way to achieve that dream.

•Kijo overhears this and has the idea of procreating a homunculus child. Homunculus children at this point were being given to non-homunculus surrogate volunteers (basically how everyone else who went to Hope's Peak got to exist. It was never a school for the gifted-it was secretly a containment zone for all of the test tube homunculi babies aside from "Lucky Students" like Makoto and Reserve Course students.) She agrees since it's everything she's ever wanted, despite knowing that one day she'd have to give him up when the time came.

•The Woman would be allowed to bear Kijo's child, and he was predetermined to be the heir of the company. However, the traditional competition and inheritance contest had to continue as normal in order to maintain the illusion that there weren't genetically modified children in the family. Her son was never to find out, and him and his father were to rule to corporation for eons to come while also spreading homunculus DNA and offspring to those deemed worthy.

•Byakuya's mom never told him that he was basically destined to win. She raised him with love and care and all the formal training any Togami child would normally have needed to compete and be worthy of the title. It pained her to see him go, but she got to experienced the thing she'd always wanted.

•Byakuya doesn't find out ANY OF THIS until his dad "dies" (since the project ended up being faulty and nobody knew that the immortality effects did not stop the body from giving out on itself,) and subsequently gets reincarnated as a zombie within a day. It crushes him, he is full of angst and confusion, like imagine your whole life you believe your talents were earned not given, and they turn out to be given instead of earned (this is actually where more of the oc x canon lore comes in because my character also suffers from genetic modification, and her altered DNA is what cancels out the effects of his altered DNA. We have an in-joke in my friend group that Chere gave Byakuya radiation poisoning and that's why he's allowed to live almost painlessly lmfao) that and like, imagine knowing that one day your body is gonna just give out on you and you'll wake up the next morning as a zombie. that's kinda scary man ngl

•tl;dr: Byakuya Togami is a superhuman because his dad and mom are genetically modified superhumans. His dad wanted to play god and raise a god heir. Byakuya did not choose this path and now has to suffer the consequences of it. Byakuya is also the ONLY homunculus child that was born from two homunculi, all the others were surrogates. That's why he's the Ultimate Perfection ;) ...this probably doesn't make much sense and is like SUUUUUPER fucking out there and weird but I'm posting it anyway I'm tired of being a coward

[guzsdaily]

A Week of Troubleshooting [My Own Stupidity]

Day 159 - Apr 12th, 12.024

I have been trying to host Forgejo (a lightweight software forge and repository hosting service, forked from Gitea) in my home lab/server for the past week. Falling over and over again and loosing hair because of stress with errors which I can blame anyone besides me. So why not finally tell this little history, since I finally was able to make everything work? Because I really don't know what to feel.

The Context

For these past months I have been working on automating some tasks in my life and career using a home server and various self-hosted services. I won't go into too much detail since it is a topic for another post, but the main piece of this automating system is the Forgejo/Gitea actions feature, similar to GitHub Actions which you probably already know of (and if you don't know or aren't a programmer, just think of it as something that runs tasks automatically for you based on some predefined actions/triggers that you can configure).

My home lab is configured with NixOS, a Linux distro based on the Nix package manager, that lets me configure the whole computer using a single collection of files. The main reason for using this distro is of course the ability to have a portable configuration, which I can use and apply in any computer, but also, another advantage is being able to write and setup everything on a single file format. It is pretty much like writing a cooking book with a collection of recipes organized in categories and the same format, instead of a bunch of sticky notes with different recipes scatted around on some drawer or something. I have been using Nix for a year now on my desktop, so I'm somewhat familiar with it, and my home lab was already running with it hosting some other services like AdGuard Home and Tailscale.

In general, I hadn't a lot of troubles with this setup.

The First Domino Piece

Setting up Forgejo in NixOS is somewhat simple, since it is pretty much a matter of enabling it with:

And it was what I did some months ago when I first settled it up, so I have been using it for hosting some coding projects and backing them up to Codeberg and/or GitHub, without any specific reason, I just like to have and use it.

But then I went to try using Forgejo Actions, and discover that for using them, I needed to set up another service with it, the Forgejo/Gitea Actions Runner. And going through the options, I found the options to enable it, so again, it was a simple matter of doing something like:

Then, after some issues here and there and just following the documentation, the runner was up. I tested it with some simple scripts, and they ran in their containers successfully. However, there was something which I needed to test, in GitHub/Forgejo/Gitea actions, you need to use an action called "checkout" to get the code from the repository and put it inside the container, so you can run things on top of it and manipulate it as you wish. And obviously I needed it to run my automation scripts and system. So I tested and...

This is not the exact error since I wasn't able to get a screenshot at the time, however the reason was pretty much the same, there was some connection error.

So, I started to tweak my config, and seeing retrospectively, I was lost. The main thing for me at the time was if the error was related to the URL that I used to connect to the Forgejo instance, since because of the Tailscale network on top and the AdGuard Home config, there were five possible URLs that I could use: 192.168.1.13:3030, the local IP on my home's network; localhost:3030, the URL which "makes the server look up its own ports/IP's"; homelab.tailnet-name.ts.net:3030, the readable URL which Tailscale gives for that machine; 100.69.013.10:3030, which is the IP of the home lab on the Tailscale network; And forgejo.homelab.local, a local domain that redirects to the Forgejo instance, configured using Adguard. On top of that, the Forgejo Actions runner has two config values that can affect the URL that the actions, services.forgejo.settings.actions.DEFAULT_ACTIONS_URL and services.gitea-actions-runner.instances.<instance>.url, both of them which I didn't know correctly how they affected the actions.

And so I spend pretty much a whole day just switching combinations, rebuilding and rebuilding the NixOS config, trying different combinations to see if any one of these worked, but nothing. All combinations didn't worked. Nonetheless, there were also Tailscale and Adguard, so I also tried tweaking, enabling and disabling, trying everything that I could to see if they were affecting or not and trying to fix the issue. Installed and removed Forgejo and Forgejo Runner again and again, because as always, I also had customized a lot of things before actually testing them, so I needed to rip out and put together everything to see if I screwed up something, trying to navigate also between the layers of abstractions that I made on the configuration.

And then, I went to bed, after unsuccessfully trying to fix the issue.

On the next day, I pretty much started going directly to the computer. For context, I wanted to finish this setup somewhat quickly to continue my other projects that depended on it, so I started to save time by not doing my normal routine (this probably was one of the worst of my decisions ever). I started to again see if I forgot something, if some configuration on another file was affecting it, and then for some reason that I don't remember anymore, I noticed an option called networking.firewall.allowedTCPPorts, which I had used to enable the ports for AdGuard Home to work...

And like a pass of magic, the checkout action worked and cloned the repository contents.

The Rewrite

After said success, I continue the configuration of the home lab, and things were getting out of control really quickly. I don't know if it is because I learned JavaScript as my first language, but I do tend to try abstract things a lot. In non-technical terms, I tend to hide away a lot of [necessary] complexity under an all-encompassing function or interface, which backfires a lot. And I was doing that with my configuration, trying to join systems with different scopes under the same umbrella, and of course, thing started to get out of control.

And just to kick me more, probably in between all this abstraction and trying to fix the Forgejo Actions... I apparently broke something, which made me unable to connect to Forgejo via SSH. So after one entire day abstracting, the next one I ripped out everything and started to make my NixOS config something more sane and straight forward, and I think that the commit message for this refactor tells a lot about how my mind was:

And after some two more days also migrating my desktop configuration, everything was finally easier to understand and reason about. I did end up forgetting to enable my window and session manager when migrating the desktop config, nothing really difficult to fix using Vim/NeoVim, but I do admire how the computer looks with just the terminal and how many programmers started and maybe to this day program with monitors showing something like this:

Banging My Head Against the Wall

At this point around four days had passed, and it was Tuesday, and I had started all of this on the past week on Friday. All these days, I wasn't having my normal routine or taking a lot of care with myself, going to sleep a lot more late and tired than normal, and even if this month I do need to push my limit, this was a lot more than necessary, and was also affecting my time that I had with my girlfriend, since I couldn't stop thinking about work or have the energy to give attention to her, which also affected my own insecurities and anxiety, feeling like a bad partner to her. Everything because of a god-damn configuration.

However, I didn't want to stop or give up, I love programming, and if I don't make this server work, I won't be able to continue with my plans. So I continued to push, frustrate myself, and bang my head against the wall until this works.

The Forgejo Actions were working, but the SSH push and pull wasn't, and again, because apparently I don't know how to troubleshoot, I started to tweak the config again and again, for another entire day, counting also other issues and problems that I had with the migration. This was something which I acknowledge at the time, but I was feeling and acting lost, never knowing what thing was causing these issues and having tunnel vision. I tried seeing if it was something with what IP I was using, if it was something somehow related to the proxy and AdGuard DNS redirects, and nothing changed. Every time I tried to push or pull via SSH, I got something like fatal: user/repository.git does not appear to be a repository. What was I doing wrong?!?

I forgot to add my SSH Key to the Forgejo user account, that was what I was doing wrong. I fucking should have taken a step back when I noticed that via https it worked as normal, in all IPs or URLs.

But now, remember the checkout action? It wasn't working again. So I did the same fix from before, allowed the TCP port, allowed also for UDP jut in case, and... the same error, ECONNREFUSED. Again, I started by changing the IPs and URLs in the config, however this time, when I used something different from localhost:3030, I got a different output:

And with the foresight of today, I really should have thought a little more why it was a different error, unfortunately I didn't, and started to again write and rewrite config properties, even rewriting the whole Forgejo and Forgejo Actions config, without any success, the day ended, and I have never been so stressed and tired with a project than this.

I really want to be clear that not so many days before all of this, I had a lot of problems and stress with my greater family, problems which really worried about the situation of my parents and the urgency for me to get a job. Thankfully, my parents and I are on a stable situation, and they are really supportive and let me take my time to find a job and hunt what I love, but still, the pressure that I put and need to put on myself to get a job, not only to help my parents, but to also have financial independence and start the first steps in having a home with my partner, all of this was stressing and putting even more weight into this whole thing. Yes, I can find a job without any of these, and I am actively sending resumes where I can, however, this project, server and plan could hopefully really help my situation. And besides all of that, I love programming, I love finding solutions, automating things, seeing the unbelievable amount of progress bars and log streams of processes running, I love this job. So being so.. bad at it, really was hitting my mind.

The day passed, and now it is Friday, the same day that I'm writing this blog post. I fell asleep without even giving goodnight to my girlfriend because of the amount of exhaustion that I had this past night. Thankfully I woke up somewhat on a good mood, even with the stress and exhaustion I was able to get some good sleep and distract myself on the past night to improve my mood in general. However, I needed to fix this issue, already passed an entire week, and fixing or not, I couldn't continue this the next week, I know how much one week can burn out my motivations and love for programming, so, or I fix this, or I change projects and make this a future Guz's problem. At the start it was the same as yesterday, just trying to tweak configurations, even reverting changes to a working state without any success or difference. But then, I started to actually debug this thing, doing something which I really should have done before: test if it is a connection issue or not in the first place. Yes, it is obvious at this point, but when I have tunnel vision on a problem, I really can't think clearly. Nonetheless, I tried using ping to test the connection and...

It wasn't a connection issue... ok... I have to admit that at first glance it just confused me even more, but at least now it isn't a problem with my config? Wait, could it be a problem with the checkout action itself now? How? It was compatible and working with Forgejo without any problems just days ago, and it didn't have any type of update in between these days. I started to search if there was something on the internet about this problem, trying to see if anyone had the ECONNREFUSED problem, but nothing. The Forgejo and Gitea mirrors of the action didn't have anything, nor the issues in the original repository. Maybe it was something related to an API difference between GitHub and Forgejo somehow? The logs say about trying to access an endpoint called /api/v3/repos/{owner}/{repo}/tarball/{ref} to download the archive of the repository, and the "not found" error could be related to some authorization to the endpoint error? Forgejo does show a 404 page when you try to access a private repository or page without authorization, same when you try to clone something via SSH without a key.

Well, I tried to test using curl to the same endpoint, and it returned 404, but the other endpoints didn't... nor in the actions, so it wasn't something with the API it seems...

I went into the Gitea API documentation and... where the fuck is the /tarball endpoint?! It is a GitHub only endpoint! Wait, so why it was working before? What happened? Well, I try to find anything about this endpoint on the GitHub actions, some type of error, or maybe a configuration to use another end point? And for my surprise, searching for "tarball" on the action's repository..

I will hug my girlfriend and cry, brb.

---

Yes, this whole nightmare was because Git wasn't installed on the docker image. And you may be asking why before it didn't use the API fallback? Well, it seems like the official NodeJS debian docker images had Git already installed on them, however, after the rewrite, I started using Gitea's official docker images for actions runner, which don't come with Git preinstalled it seems. And installing Git using apt-get install -y git gave me the confirmation, because the checkout action worked right after it.

Something to Learn in This Chaos

I have been writing this blog post for an entire day now, starting it right after the break to breathe that I needed to have after the action worked.

Foresight really makes me fell stupid right now, not gonna lie. This isn't the first time I'm having this felling, actually in this job is kinda something expected I would say, and the feeling of finally fixing it is rewarding. However, I do feel like it wasn't a healthy way of handling this issue. Again, the pressure I put on myself wasn't helping, and prohibiting me from taking a ten-minute break to rest my mind, really didn't help with the tunnel vision issue, because all the problems that I had were because I wasn't reading the errors correctly and trying to fix things totally unrelated to the problem at hand. And probably, one of the biggest things to me in this entirety, is the fact that I need to learn how to debug problems and narrow the possible causes of them, I wouldn't have known that the problem was Git not being installed, if I didn't have tested the connections with ping and curl on the first place. Will I actually learn because of this experience? Probably not, I will maybe have a lot more weeks of stress until I finally learn and start constructing some muscular memory for this. However, at least now with this blog post, I have somewhere to look back to if I ever need to configure Forgejo again lol.

And, I know that everyone is different and yadda yadda, but having someone with me this entire week, someone which I could rest on her shoulder and calm myself without feeling guilty or something else, someone to talk and have support from, really helped on not going downhill into a harsh burnout I would say. Eu te amo Helena.

Today's artists & creative things Music: Passing Through (Can't the Future Just Wait) - by Kaden MacKay

© 2024 Gustavo "Guz" L. de Mello. Licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0

[kaiju-wolfdragon]

Kaiju inanimate insanity headcanons (I also gonna add kaiju bfb headcanon since i haven't done that)

Kaiju Inanimate insanity

Test tube made a gas container that can turn objects into kaijus but then someone accidently let the kaiju gas out and float into mephone's body and made it into the hacking system to make an app turn any objects into kaijus like a situation and turn the whole landscape into a tiny city since thier bodies have kaiju parts and powers to crave destruction or to be careful to help around people too. It also the host aka mephone and turn him into a kaiju just like the rest of the object contestants, some challenges also involves city destruction, helping out people sometimes, fight against each other or other giant monsters or not to get caught by the government, and also mephone's recovery center also effects and won't make them go back to normal and just to stay as kaijus, but if they finish the game they'll be back to normal size, or they can just stay here and have an ability to change back normal if they wanted to.

Kaiju bfdi/bfb/tpot

Golf Ball made some new machines to turn into giants and one that can turn into a monster, but then the announcer used both of them and mixed them up to make it both into giants and into monsters at the same time. The announcer left it here but then pen find it and decided to play with it not knowing it works and turned everyone including four, two, and X (yes it also effects people that's on bfb as well) Golf Ball thought pen was the one that he mix them up and turned them into giant monsters called kaijus, pen said that that he found that on the ground on its own, now with thier new size and form they could try something to work out the kaiju selfs because it also add other kaiju powers for other reason, which also can lead to destruction and fights too. And some rather be gentle while others like to use destruction for thier fun ways and some rather be back to normal, then some hosts thought maybe they can change some challenges that are kaiju friendly like to the kaiju objects.

[firewolf-pyro]

Blueton: (he/him they them)Originated on Skaro from genome pool #BT000

~BT122~

COMPLETE

<STRATEGIST>

(Defective, extremely manipulative, self driven)

Created before the Time War

Original Casing: Silver and Blue traditional Skaro

Base Genome: Kaled- genetics donated to Davros’ research via anonymous .

During the Time War

<SCIENTIST>

Unit ID BT122 assisted in the research of bio-weapons used by the old world Daleks before the Time War. By the start of the massive war the casing they were enclosed within was rotting away from the mutant within. The technology itself was outdated,

Demands for a new casing have been met.

New casing: New Series Dalek/ time war era Dalek casing

Nickname: Blue, Blueton, Blueberry

{when starting as a strategist for the new Dalek empire the entity began plotting and planning attacks on their own. They managed to control a small selection of other Daleks. (Ties to the Cult of Skaro and other black box experimental groups) Their own personal goal of overthrowing the empire as they were rather anarchistic, believing in small government was halted when the call for all hands on deck started at the start of the Time War began. Upon the start of this great universal war the Dalek was recruited as a Strategist having taken interest in studying both war strategy and political sciences. This gave them opportunities to affect the outcomes of the battles the Dalek empire played host to. With every great success under his ID tag was an equally terrible failure- it became so frequent that others began taking notice beginning to assume the failures were purposeful. This landed the corrupt Dalek into the Dalek asylum well after the time war ended rather than rewarding the individual with awards. The asylum stay was dramatically short as the groups the manipulative Dalek had his tendrils in “rescued” the stranded Dalek allowing them to flee the empire’s grasp entirely. }

———-ONE-SHOT OFFSHOOT STORIES———

______________Alternate Universes_______________

Human/Dalek hybrid: Downed, discovered, altered, became Mob-boss like in a way running underground alien trades of illegal substances. Doesn’t like being touched, doesn’t like being lectured, will definitely kill you if you even glance in his direction the wrong way.

Kaled : Known as Jeremy, this Kaled was pulled through time. For what reasons? To test time manipulation devices via the Daleks under cover. Kept alive only to serve, Jeremy was turned into a Dalek puppet- sent off to recruit Dalek followers or gather intel.

SCP crossover: idk containment is always interesting

[laceyjane44]

GaaSaku 2023 FanFest Day8

Prompt: "Didn't see that coming, did you?"

(Day 1: continued)

This wasn’t like him.

He had a meeting to get to, the council had been expecting him after the end of his address to the genin and he’d effectively blown them off, now wondering just how long they would have before a messenger was sent looking for him. Anxious, uncertain, with his heart pounding quietly in his chest, Gaara ignored the urge to wipe the sweat off his palms and kept his eyes locked on the woman in front of him.

Sakura Haruno stood a few yards away from him in the center of their chosen training ground, she was stretching out her shoulders and her neck, making a clear show of her confidence in facing the new Wind leader. There was a smirk pulling at her lips that hadn’t disappeared since he told her to stand at the ready, and a glisten in her eyes that he couldn’t attribute to the glaring sun. She had even called him by name on their way over and, with how accustomed he was to the honorific title of Kazekage by now, the sound of his name on her voice sent a peculiar feeling swimming in his gut.  

Again, he wondered what she could have done to earn the privilege of such assurance in herself, she definitely knew something he didn’t, and he was second guessing his decisions.

Only now, after leading her to the distant training field undisturbed by visiting genin, had Gaara thought of how this might look to an observer. The last time they encountered each other, skillsets aside, they had been at the same level of rank. Now, he’d catapulted himself to a level of station that was far beyond her own; he sat at the pinnacle while she stood at the starting line. The city, his city, was hosting the very race she was trying to start, and he would be called on for judging of the contestants. If they fought now, would it call her judging into question, could it disqualify her? Unprecedented, he was certain that none of his fellow chunin contestants had challenged the Third to a match before the tests began, just where had she gotten this idea from?

For the second time, he tried reason. “You’re positive about this, Sakura?” he asked, unsure of how to navigate her odd request. The exams technically hadn’t started yet…

She nodded, her arms outstretched above her head as she leaned side to side, the top she wore riding up on her midriff. Gaara glanced away. “Mhmm,” she hummed, now busy with adjusting her hair.

In no other world would Gaara have allowed a potential opponent the time to straighten themselves before a fight, but the way she patted down the dirt on her apron skirt and worked the knot out of her shoulder gave him pause. Somehow, she’d drawn him in and made him curious, he was bewitched by the possibility of her growth and tempted to forgo his formalities to uncover its cause.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he heard himself saying before he could finish the thought.

Pausing, Sakura smiled and glanced over at him. His breath caught in his throat. “Yes,” she sighed. “I suppose you certainly could if you wanted to.” He was confused, this was an admission he hadn’t expected of her given her intrepid request for a match. Admission or not, her eyes still shown with that knowing and self-assured glint, an unfamiliar intrigue welling up within him. “But you’ll find I don’t bruise as easily anymore.”

Without a visible command, the quark on Gaara’s gourd could be heard popping out of place and the quiet hissing of sand soon filled the air. Sakura bit her lip to contain her grin, he found himself wishing she had let it show; it was exciting him.

He was the Kazekage, however, so he couldn’t be allowed to get ahead of himself. “There will be no blood spilled here,” he assured.

To which Sakura shrugged and responded, “I’ll try to remember that.”

A twitch of his brow and quick scrunch of his nose was her reply, and their match commenced.

With a force that would have sent her fellow genin shaking in their boots, his sand charged her. It surged forward, breaking around him like a current diverted by a stone in a river. The air between them, suspenseful and pregnant with tension, had erupted with the screeching sound of grain on grain as the wave crashed over her. Gaara lost sight of her as the wave ran her down and, when the sand writhed under his command, he felt a resistance against it that wouldn’t move.

Then the blow came.

Suddenly, he was back to two years ago, standing in that pit arena as unexpected shock wiped his mind clean. Such strength, such speed, so much so that his future opponent had to mimic the tactic just to get close to him. The sand forcibly dispersed against his command and out of the fray came not Rock Lee, but the very reason for the lump in his throat, the adrenaline in his veins; Sakura Haruno. She had stood fully facing his oncoming attack and bore herself down against it, digging in her heels and pushing back until it broke apart, and then she rushed him.

Having dispersed a path for herself, she weaved around a side-sweeping blow that aimed to trip her feet and closed the paces she took between them quickly. Another surge, she readied a blow, and Gaara watched as her fist made contact with his sand and crumbled it. Then she was upon him, one well-placed blow after another, his shield faithfully coming to his defense each time. She was different than Lee, though, she was pushing him.

Gaara found himself retreating a step, wanting to welcome some space between them; so close and so raw, he kept distracting himself by taking notice of her and not her attacks. Punching, kicking, dodging, she danced around his counter attacks; he was pushing his speed, increasing the strength of the sand, estimating how forceful he could be, and she matched him at every turn.

Finally, breathing hard with a sheen of sweat across her skin, she broke through the hardened shell of his sand shield and forced him to swiftly retreat a few steps. Finally getting some space between them then; he hadn’t hardly even moved and yet he was already sweating. Sakura stood there holding his gaze, resuming her casual demeanor as she rose from the stance of her strike.

Adjusting the fit of her glove, her hips swaying as she shifted her weight, Sakura smirked at him; mischievous and altogether boastful. “Didn’t see that coming, did you?”

The sand churned and ungulated at his feet, expressing the stirring of its master’s excitement; no, no he had not. Upholding his promise of not harming her was going to require strategy, it seemed. So be it. With a sudden heaviness to the air that surrounded them, not unlike the electric charge of an oncoming storm, he raised his arms as tendrils of sand lifted from the ground and rose to the sky, gathering there. Sakura faltered back a step, eyeing him cautiously as that heavy rhythm thumped against the beating of her heart, before finally breaking her gaze to assess her situation above.

She squared her feet with her shoulders, her fists clenched at her sides, ready to strike, but what exactly could she do when the sand began to rain down on her in little droplets too small to strike away? Sakura held an arm above her head, shielding her eyes from the fine grains falling around her, and Gaara took his opportunity to snag her ankles in a coiling of sand. He pulled her down. She gasped, a small yelp escaping her lips as she was submerged within the sandy earth, a whirlpool of grain swirling around her and beginning to harden.

He'd only pulled her in up to her waist, though the one arm she’d been shielding her eyes with was spared from getting locked in. She watched as the sand around her began to harden and she started writhing against it, Gaara could feel her struggling to release her legs from their bindings below the ground. It was no use, he had her held tight, and she glared at him.

The remaining sand in the air soon ceased its whirling and fell, Sakura continued to struggle. Now thrashing, she used her free arm to repeatedly bash her closed fist against the hardened ground, as if trying to crack apart the sand that he’d tightly secured around her.

He exhaled steadily and stepped forward. “Not bad, Sakura,” he commended, she still had her eyes squinted in a glare though it didn’t feel as though she was cross with him. “You’ve certainly made improvem-”

The explosive sound of the ground shattering silenced him all at once. A plume of dust flew into the air and splinters of the sand he’d trapped her in shot out like shrapnel, causing him to cover his eyes and his sand to spring to his defense. As the shards reached him, his shield reabsorbed them back into the amassing growth behind him and, with the air clearer now, he spied a swath of pastel and a dim glow of green.

He hadn’t seen that coming, either.

Gaara called forth his sand once again, summoning a wall that cut off her war path straight to him. It only lasted a moment before it succumbed to her advances and shattered. Another lunge back, another wall, another solid punch that left it crumbling. She’d nearly reached him, but he used the sand beneath him like a springboard and leapt away before she could make another strike. This time she’d been close enough for him to feel that buzz from her attacks and he could see now that she was using chakra to amplify her power. Her precision and adaptability with strength, speed, and control were on full display as she met each of his attacks with her own.

Skidding on her heels, her boots slid against the pebbled earth, and she turned on a dime to offer him no reprieve. Sakura had seen him fight Lee, she witnessed the first hit he ever took, and knew the only place to achieve her victory would be right up in his face. Sweaty, muscles burning, and nearly spent with how much chakra it took to effortlessly appear to break through the sand barriers, she closed the space to him to continue the onslaught.

Landing, Gaara pulled up the earth between them to put yet another wall in her way, but he wasn’t so naïve anymore, and before she even broke through the first, he erected another. A loud boom echoed throughout the grounds, he hadn’t anticipated such a forceful display from her, and Gaara figured that any longer and they would draw in some curious spectators. The first wall had fallen, and he predicted as much when the second shattered moments later; he’d been expecting her to come charging him down like a battering ram and he was ready for her.

Bursting forth from the shattered bits of the hardened sand wall, Sakura was already cocking her arm back in place for another full swing; her face gleaming in the sun, eyes burning, her gloves smoking with friction of her blows. She was coming for him.

With as much power and control as he could muster, he let her within get striking distance, faking out that he was pulling his shield up in defense, but at the last second, he forced it down, allowing her to cross a threshold few others ever had.

Genuine surprise flashed across her face as her expression switched from deadly intent to a desperate back pedal. The heels of her boots caught the earth and she pulled back her swing; a foolhardy attempt to redirect all that momentum she had built to crash through his numerous blockades. With such an opponent, she’d channeled enough chakra into her fists and her muscles that she could’ve rivaled Lee for the best right hook, but she hadn’t sought to actually hit him.

Fumbling, she gasped, “Gaara! What-”

He grabbed her wrist before she was able to step away, that momentum she carried still tipping her forward, and he pulled her along the trajectory. She yelped, not expecting him to outright grab her, and when he pulled her through, her foot snagged her heel and she teetered to the ground. Gaara followed her path, redirecting her arm around and behind her back, pushing her down until her knees met the sand, and he secured that deadly right hand of hers with an iron grip on her wrist.

Shuttering as he inhaled, Gaara stared wide eyed and without words to the woman he had pinned beneath him. In the few short minutes that they’d spent facing each other, she disheveled her hair, covered herself in dirt and in sand, the dust off the ground stained her clothes; marring her skin, scuffs shown on her forearms and smudges on the pale skin of her legs.

The charged energy of the fight was static, palpable in the air, and then all at once it was broken by the musical sound of her laughter.

“You got me!” she laughed, her voice light and full of the smile that was certainly blessing her features. Gaara released her wrist and stepped back. Resting her hands on the ground, Sakura’s body was shaking and she was beginning to feel the exhaustion of just a few minutes in hot pursuit of a nearly untouchable man.

Heart pounding, brimming with subsiding adrenaline, and captivated by the sound of her laughter after facing him in a match; Gaara leaned down, a hand touching her shoulder and guiding her to lean back and stand. He suddenly disliked the idea of her in the dirt because of him and, still giggling with her excitement, Sakura accepted his extended hand and pulled herself up from the ground.

“That was dirty,” she teased, wiping her dusty gloves on her clothes and combing her fingers through her strawberry pink locks. “You made me think I was going to hit you.”

He could offer no excuse in his defense; she had been so relentless, forced her way so close, he figured all he could do to win without injury would be to do the opposite of what she would have expected of him. Much like, now that he thought about it, she had done to him. Uncertain, frozen by choice, Gaara flexed his hands at his side, a desire winding tight within him that he couldn’t name and couldn’t push away.

Sakura faced him fully then, that bright smile still echoing the laughter in her voice, and her emerald eyes locked onto his; unwavering, unafraid, and he succumbed.

Impulsive, more so than even in his youth, Gaara brought up his hands to cradle her beautiful and beguiling face, silencing the sudden confusion she muttered before he bent down and touched his lips to hers.

Thanks for reading!

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaceyJane

FanFiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2120361/WiccadBaltane0501