#ecological considerations

[cselandscapearchitect]

Natural Turf vs. Artificial Grass: Battling the Urban Heat Island Effect in the Low Desert

The low desert region faces the challenges of the urban heat island effect, where urban areas experience significantly higher temperatures than surrounding rural areas due to human activities and the built environment. As we strive to mitigate this heat island effect, one key consideration is the choice between natural turf and artificial grass. Both options have their own advantages and…

[flimsy-roost]

[fencesandfrogs]

I’ve decided I’m keeping plants pretty similar to earth plants, because botany is so ridiculous that I don’t even need to make shit up. Also, Tuvok hybridized a Vulcan flower with an earth orchid. So like. Plant hybridization is crazy, but this is like the Spock mammal thing.

Anyway I’m considering having my CAM plants be a major branch because like. What are the odds of convergent evolution creating that change multiple times on TWO planets. …high enough that I’m only considering having CAM be a major decision.

Plants also lend support to my thoughts on the Forge: there’s a carnivorous vine from that hat area, and.

Y’know what no i’m not using my walk home to type out half formed thoughts on low nitrogen environments. Please research carnivorous plants if you’re curious; pitcher plants are a favorite of mine.

So anyway they don’t really make sense in an arid desert environment IMO. But by an oasis?? Oh yeah, now we’re talking.

I’m not 100% sure that I’m keeping the major divisions of plants from earth, but like. I didn’t take botany for nothing. Ya boy knows his gymnosperms and monocots and so on and he wants to be able to use that knowledge.

[gen-is-gone]

this is why everyone hates atheists, btw

Was reading on wikipedia about how lots of ancient cultures had beliefs and traditions where you had to offer prayers and/or sacrifices if you wanted to cut down a tree because you were basically killing the spirit that lived within the tree and if you did that without good reason bad stuff would happen to you

we should bring that back. if you want to clear cut a forest you have to pray and sacrifice on behalf of every single tree

[erose-this-name]

humans are not the default race

In every scifi and fantasy setting with """races""", humans are the default.

If you're lucky, we're the short-lived, fast-reproducing pests that are all white Europeans for some mysterious reason, and also have disproportionate rates of being raised as undead because we can't be bothered to make zombie dwarf minis or animate a vampire gnome that has to jump up to bite a tall person's neck.

(We've got BOTH human AND elf skeleton warriors! Oh, hey, I just changed the scale, now it's a hobbit skeleton OR a giant skeleton! Such skeleton diversity! No, Khajiits can't be bone boys, a skeleton with a tail and a cat skull is just TOO SPOOKY)

I feel like a lot of people don't realize that we (Homo sapiens) have the longest running endurance of any land animal. Being able to run a marathon is not normal.

(It's because we evolved the very unusual hunting strategy of Slowly Chasing Gazelles While Throwing Sticks At Them Until The Gazelle Collapses From Exhaustion Then Casually Walking Up And Bashing Their Head In With A Rock™).

Even Neanderthals probably couldn't match our tenacity (they were considerably stronger and tougher though, but by no means dumber judging from the size of their brain cavities{which was bigger than ours actually})

(the evolutionary Neanderthal hunting strategy was probably something like Jumping Out And Stabbing A Wooly Rhinoceros With A Pointed Stick, Then Getting Punted 12 Feet Into a Tree But Getting Right Back Up And Doing It Again Until It Dies Because You Have Superhuman Bone And Muscle Density. And If You Do Break One Of Your Unbreakable Bones Your Homies Will Take Care Of You Until It Heals™

[Neanderthal skeletons are found with healed fractures surprisingly often despite said bones being much stronger and denser than ours, they just kept evolving denser bones until they couldn't even swim without sinking like a rock, but they still got broken all the time])

So given that we, Homo sapiens, actually literally used to be the "species that specializes in sheer endurance, determination, and unbreakable fucking will", I want more fantasy and scifi settings where we are that way! I think the only setting where that's even remotely the case is Undertale. We're not just the "default" intelligent species!

The only reason we're good at everything is because we can make complex tools and can learn and aren't bound by instinct. Which, by definition, all fantasy races would also be able to do. Otherwise, they'd just be considered animals. Like trolls or Redditers.

The "default" species should just be really good at making tools and quickly adapting, but kinda suck in every other category. So I guess gnomes or goblins are the default d&d race.

And Humans are certainly not the Tolkien "that one race that lives short lives and reproduces faster than everyone else and is good at farming" because:

A) we actually do already live relatively long lives for mammals of our size and also GIVING BIRTH CAN KILL US, AND IF OUR PARENTS DON'T RAISE US JUST RIGHT THAT CAN ALSO KILL US, WE ARE SPECIFICALLY VERY BAD AT REPRODUCING

B) we are in no way adapted to farming, and most of our modern health and societal issues stem from the fact that we aren't meant to farm or be civilized, but do it anyways.

We only farm because it helped us survive the ecological collapse at the end of the ice age, now we're in too deep to go back.

When the ice age ended (quite abruptly) the ecosystem couldn't provide for hunters and gathers anymore, a bunch of things were getting heat stroke, sea levels rose, hibernation and bloom cycles and reptile gender ratios were out of wack, predators died out because herbivores died out because plants weren't doing well. Decomposers like vultures and worms had a field day (Until they didn't [RIP condor population]). It would take a while for a new ecological equilibrium to emerge and for evolution to fix things.

But farming doesn't need any healthy ecosystems except for the soil and pollinators, mostly, so that still works. And farming makes more food meaning you can have more people. So now there's more people.

But that also means you can't ever go back to foraging without all those extra people dying of starvation. So, anarcho-primitivism would technically be the most deadly ideology if implemented, and therefore is not based, unfortunately. Here's hoping for an apocalypse to do that for us! (I would not survive it)

Fun Fact: those isolated tribal societies like the Sentinelese that still do hunting and gathering only spend 15-20 hours a week doing that and another 20 doing camp chores, and the rest of their time forming meaningful relationships and not being depressed.

Notice how most of what they do as "work" (hunting, fighting, hiking, berry/mushroom/etc picking, cooking, camping, arts and crafts, oral history/story telling) are things that we need to do during our limited free time as "hobbies" just so that our "work" doesn't drive us insane. Thus leaving less time for relationships, etc.

If we were actually good at farming or industry or civilization, then things like math and repetitive manual labor wouldn't be work. They'd be the most fun activities.

Sure, these foragers die young, but so did medieval peasant farmers who were even less healthy since they had much less diverse diets (a lot of carbs) and got plague more often thanks to cities and their close proximity to livestock. Our modern sedentary lifestyle is bad too.

Hobbits are suited to farming (also Entwives I guess). Hobbits are quite good at it, at the cost of not being as good at much else (besides going unnoticed and throwing for some reason), they inherently enjoy farming life quite a bit and most* aren't haunted by the sense they should be anything else, like we are. *(The Took family got that Call To Adventure 'tism)

We only think that we're not special or can't be anything other than what we currently are because we no longer have anything else to compare ourselves to. The Neanderthals and Denisovans died out tens of thousands of years ago and the fucking aliens are somewhere, presumably

We are special, only we survived.

But at the cost of becoming the species equivalent of an abandoned child raised by wolves. We fantasize about these things because we all know that we shouldn't be alone. But our perceptions of ourselves are twisted by our trauma and lack of socialization.

Personally, the realization that having lost our family was probably our fault makes that hurt so much worse.

[brucewaynehater101]

so in a number of ancient cultures it was inappropriate, unacceptable, and probably even an executable offense to look directly at the emperor with the idea that they have divine right to rule or they're descended from the gods or whatever.

Space Emperor Tim of many names had made it no longer an executable offense but his planets still find it very disrespectful for anyone, besides the royal consorts, to look directly at their baby space emperor. They actually appreciate and approve that he wears a mask, so clever and considerate of their baby emperor to restrain his divine glory in such a way! He's also a babie and so it's inappropriate and unacceptable to the empire for anyone to go around and have actual realistic images of their emperor or his equally babie consorts around everywhere. Instead all images of the imperial group is very stylized or they all incorporate the emperor's mask on not just him but also his consorts/bodyguards/whatever they are to him on whatever planet. Further, even on just one planet there are a lot of different ideas of what makes someone or something beautiful but fortunately for C4 all shades of human skin tend to be perceived as a color usually used on something to make it seem extra cute, and their relative smallness make all of them, especially Bart with the fluffy hair, the equivalent of kirby in the eyes of the empire, smol, adorable, probably able to destroy everything but you forget because, again, smol and adorable.

That being said, all the merch, from statues to commemorative spoons, tend to be recognizably probably a human in a mask and that's as close to being identifiably any member of the C4 that they typically get.

Tim has put in protocols just in case someone tries to visit the empire while impersonating him or any of his friends. So far no one has tried but if Damian ever goes to the empire as Robin he's going to inadvertently be dealing with some trouble. Or he may get written off as a baby cosplaying as their beloved emperor and Damian will be extremely pissed off because people are being condescending and cooing at him for the respect he's displaying towards their beloved emperor.

It would be hella cool if some of the planets gifted YJ a variety of masks. Perhaps the team ends up with a collection of different styled masks (with various beauty standards and styles) as the planets' gesture of gratitude, respect, and reverence. Some are styled similar to discowing, but others have wildly complex designs or simplified ones.

It'd be cool to see various designs, colors, concepts, etc. The regular Robin mask is used most often in fanart, but perhaps they play around with mask designs.

I think Damian would enjoy learning about different animals species on the planets. Maybe Tim entrusts upkeeping planet ecological systems to him at some point

[fatehbaz]

[E]very [interspecies] meeting in fact reminds us that the being we meet is and always shall be strange to us […]. When beings meet there is a distance between, such that in encountering the slug we also encounter something beyond the slug – a multitude of life we cannot sense. [...] So despite shared histories and the close proximity in which slugs and [humans] live, the slug retains a certain darkness as a creature apart; something is held in reserve […]. And so fleeting awareness of the irretrievability of the lives of others intensifies poignancy, such that despite a gulf separating the [human] from other creatures, some connection, however fleeting, is made to something – however strange. Refusing to dismiss the everyday and the banal is an ethical response. […] Slugs are there: sliming, chomping, and oozing around quietly and that should be enough to give them consideration.

[Text by: Franklin Ginn. “Sticky lives: Slugs, detachment and more-than-human ethics in the garden.” Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers, Volume 39, Issue 4. 2013. Bold emphasis added by me.]

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So, can an insect speak? And if yes, do we understand it? Wittgenstein maintained that ‘if a lion could speak we would not understand him’, by which he implied that we do not share the ‘form of lion-life’ that would make lion language fully transparent to us […]. A similar insight was [...] expressed by [...] [a twentieth-century] honeybee researcher [...]: Beyond the appreciable facts of their life we know but little of the bees. And the closer our acquaintance becomes, the nearer is our ignorance brought to us of the depths of their real existence. But such ignorance is better than the other kind, which is unconscious and satisfied.

[Text by: Eileen Crist. “Can an Insect Speak?: The Case of the Honeybee Dance Language.” Social Studies of Science, Volume 34, Issue 1. 2004. Bold emphasis added.]

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Animal studies scholarship tends to emphasize animal-human relations, encounters, and similarities. […] Jellyfish and other gelatinous creatures [...], however, float at the far reaches of our ability to construct sturdy interspecies connections [...]. Uexkull’s theory […] insists upon multiple worlds […], a capacious admission that a multitude of other creatures dwell as part of worlds that humans cannot readily or completely access or grasp. Three-quarters of a century later Terry Tempest Williams wonders what it would be like to be a jellyfish. […] [She] writes: “Perhaps this is what moves me most about jellies – their sensory intelligence […] the great hunger that is sent outward through the feathery reach of their tentacles. Imagine the information sought and returned.”

[Text by: Stacy Alaimo. “Jellyfish Science, Jellyfish Aesthetics: Posthuman Reconfigurations of the Sensible”. In: Thinking with Water. 2013. Bold emphasis added.]

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Although we cannot ‘speak’ with nonhumans in any straightforward way, what we can and more importantly do do is become articulate with them in various ways. [...] If there is a way out of this historical impasse [alienation, climate crisis, global ecological degradation], [for some] it is not to be found in attributing some of ‘our’ qualities to ‘them’. It “would not be a matter of ‘giving speech back’ to animals […]. Perhaps the task is not to seek to compare the dance language of bees […] with human language, the ‘intelligence’ […] of Monarch butterflies with human intelligence, […] but rather (or at least in addition) to find a way of thinking about these ‘remarkable things’ that grants them positive ontological difference in their own right. […] [It] is concerned with what is always a multitude of others rather than a singular other […]; and it is radically nonanthropocentric […].

[Text by: Nick Bingham. “Bees, Butterflies, and Bacteria: Biotechnology and the Politics of Nonhuman Friendship.” Environment and Planning A: Economy and Space, Volume 38, Issue 3. 2006. Bold emphasis added.]

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Starfish may seem to be still, but longer attention [...] shows them [slowly] moving, changing. [...] Then there are beings [like some insects] that experience hundreds, thousands of generations within a human lifetime. For such beings, the memories, learnings and modes of passing on experience are, it almost goes without saying (yet it must be said as it is so often not), radically different from any human’s in terms of the ways they experience change. The immensity of the alterity is, literally, incomprehensible to humans. We can't know what these beings know. But we can be aware that they have knowledges and experiences beyond us. [...] [W]e should know they live and experience and think beyond us. We should seek respect and be aware of how our lives are entangled […]. It is not abstract, or empty.

[Text by: Bawaka Country et al. “Gathering of the Clouds: Attending to Indigenous understandings of time and climate through songspirals.” Geoforum Volume 108. January 2020. Bold emphasis added.]

[probablyasocialecologist]

It is not adequate for socialists (or any others seeking a future society that will be both desirable and sustainable into the indefinite future) to refer to ecological considerations as merely additional "factors."

Colin A. M. Duncan, The Centrality of Agriculture: Between Humankind and the Rest of Nature

[tanoraqui]

Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: So, that "If you like dragons so much..." moment in the S2 trailer...

....yeah I'm sure this'll be fine.

For no particular reason, I wonder what diplomatic relations are like between Shuro's island (of which he is prince) and this one, and with the Western elves. Btw, to zoom in...

goodforhim.gif

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Mithrun has the 'looks effortlessly, unconsciously cool' ability and, apparently, the instinct to stand dramatically in high-up places, of Kaladin Stormblessed. I have to respect that.

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Thistle seems completely unable to parse that Falin isn't just the dragon. He doesn't just treat her as a tool: by the standards of this comic, he treats her like she's dead. Hell, he treated the dragon like it was dead: ignored its need to eat (and rest), smothered its will under his own....and now he's doing the same thing to Falin. He's not even aware that she needs to eat. He's forgotten what is necessary to be alive, even though he still goes through some of the motions himself.

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hi this is the most painful thing so far. Laios thinking this through with typical Laios systematic consideration. And this is one of his foremost thoughts, that he won't let Marcille have Falin's perma-death on her hands; he'll do it himself.

Hey, you know what? The Stamatis family from Greater Boston COULD do Dungeon Meshi, and the Toudens COULD do Greater Boston. I'm gonna think about that later.

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hey Laios what the FUCK does that mean.

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LOVE this visual. God the chapter covers are all so good.

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eyes eyes eyes eyes eyes

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ok I WAS spoilered for Marcille being a half-elf, too, but I think this is the first mention of it in canon! Very exciting! I don't know what it means for her socially, but I can't wait to find out!

It's so funny to think fo Thistle probably wandering past Senshi at some point and just kinda going, "Weirdo," and continuing on his way.

The great thing about this fight is that it genuinely WOULD be better if Thistle won and the lion remained bound. Mithrun lasted what, like a couple decades at most, as Lord of his Dungeon? Thistle has kept this place stable for like a thousand years (as the demon slowly fed on not just his desire but those of all the people he was trying so hard to protect.) He's trying just so hard, this poor guy. Whom we definitely do need to stop, because he IS losing this battle for his own sanity, and with it, the stability of the dungeon.

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*singing* eyes eyes eyes eyes...

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Dude, weren't you raised mostly by tallmen? How are you this racist.

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Marcille, I love you. Laios, I love you in a different way.

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Ouch.

LOOK WHO'S TALKING

eyes eyes eyes eyes...

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unironically excited for Thistle to enter his maniacal laughter phase in anime s2.

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I'm fascinated with how this comic portrays the patterns of natural ecological biomes and the patterns of human social structures and history with exactly the same tone. The behaviors of animals and monsters and humans. The psychological profile of a dungeon lord and the corresponding life cycle of a dungeon. I want to eat it. I want to put an ecologist, an anthropologist and a political scientist in a room together with this comic, and listen to them talk about it. I want to kiss Ryoko Kui on the mouth. I don't want to do my chores, go to bed and then go to work, but unfortunately life SUCKS that way. Motherfucker why is it 1am again.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Beyond East & West Differences of Personality

The work by Markus and Kitayama (1991) has had a major effect on social, personality and developmental psychology and raised awareness for cultural considerations in psychology.

Despite the positive impact, there has been limited empirical support for independent and interdependent self-construals (Matsumoto, 1999) with some studies reporting contradictory findings.

Vignoles' & Colleagues Study

Recent research conducted by 71 researchers, across 33 countries and encompassing 55 cultural groups challenged the dichotomous view first proposed by Markus and Kitayama.

The researchers conducted a series of studies (Vignoles et al., 2016) that examined a single dimension of Independent/Interdependent, Western cultures as wholly independent, the relationship between individualist and collectivist cultures and Independent/Interdependent self-construals, as well as the role of religious heritage and socioeconomic development of cultures. 

Using data from over 7,000 adults, the authors identified:

7 dimensions that encompass both independent and interdependent self-construals

Difference

Connection

Self-Direction

Self-Reliance

Consistency

Self-Expression

Self-Interest

At the level of the individual, these 7 dimensions represent the different ways that we see ourselves (perception) and our relationships with other people.

The dimensions can also represent cultural norms about self that are reinforced and maintained by cultural practices and social structures.

Result & Implications

When the researchers tested the 7-dimension model, their results contradicted many long-held beliefs about independent, individualistic, interdependent and collectivist cultures.

First, Western cultures scored above average on five of the dimensions but were below average on the dimensions self-reliance and consistency.

Thus, the common view that Western cultures are wholly independent was not supported.

Latin American cultures had scores very similar to Western cultures on the difference and self-expression dimensions but scored higher on consistency and self-interest which also challenged the common view of Latin America as wholly interdependent.

The economically poorest samples in the study scored highest on self-interest and were negatively associated with individualism, whereas Western cultures scored high on commitment to others which challenges the view that rich Western cultures are selfish.

Religious heritage was also an important variable in the study. Muslim and Catholic samples had very distinct dimension profiles that showed high scores for consistency. This may be related to the tenets of both faiths that salvation is related to behaviors so behaving consistently – across different situations and settings would be important.

The results of Vignoles and colleagues demonstrated that self, whether measured at the individual level or cultural level, is NOT binary.

Note

Independence and interdependence is a complex interaction of heritage, socioeconomic development, settlement patterns, and ecological contexts.

By moving away from a dichotomous view of self, psychologists have an opportunity to expand our understanding of self and its relationship to culture.

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[mysticstronomy]

WILL HUMANS EVER GO TO MARS??

Blog#417

Wednesday, July 10th, 2024.

Welcome back,

Mars has called to us since ancient times. To humans across the eons, the red-tinted speck glinting in the night sky has garnered special attention, with myths and legends wound around its possible ties to Earth. As we observed Mars with telescopes, this fondness graduated into a scientific fascination.

Within only about the last half century, as science has continued to advance, we gained the ability to land scientific instruments on the Red Planet. Beginning with the Viking probes in 1976 and continuing through the Perseverance rover and its flying companion, the Ingenuity helicopter drone, this robotic exploration has allowed humans to discover complex secrets of Mars.

But this is far from the end of our ambitions. Indeed, humans have planned crewed missions to Mars since at least as far back as the 1950s. Scientists and CEOs alike have crafted intricate ideas to establish a presence on the Red Planet, ranging from small-scale research outposts to major settlements. Elon Musk’s plans to put a million people on Mars stand as a particularly bold example.

Yet even with all the money and influence being poured into the goal of putting boot prints in the Martian regolith, there remain considerable doubts that we will ever actually get there. Between economic and ecological problems mounting here on Earth and the major challenges facing even the most basic mission to send humans to Mars, the impetus to spend the money necessary to fund such an initiative has ebbed with the political tides perhaps more so than any other space mission.

But the fascination remains, and the call of Mars is still as loud as it was to the futurists of the past. There seems to be something of a destiny in this call that makes it all but inevitable that humans will one day step down onto the surface of Mars, much as we once first stepped onto the surface of the Moon.

This history itself is instructive. In the earliest days of the Space Race, many people thought it inevitable that humans would one day set foot on the lunar surface, even if it took decades as opposed to the scant few years promised by visionaries like John F. Kennedy. But the illusion of inevitability is not proof of its existence in fact, as many failed predictions through history have shown.

Even the Moon landings were subject to faulty predictions. The New York Times’ 1920 declaration that rockets could not fly through space due to the lack of air comes readily to mind. Yet on July 21, 1969, two men from Earth stepped onto the surface of the Moon, proving all but the most determined doubters wrong. Will their spiritual successors at NASA and other space agencies one day follow suit on Mars? The first person to step on Mars likely walks among us now, and their moment in history may be coming soon.

Originally published on https://www.astronomy.com

COMING UP!!

(Saturday, July 13th, 2024)

"WHAT IS THE COLDEST PLANET IN OUR SOLAR SYSTEM??"

[visenyaism]

THOUGHTS ON THE SWEET DOCTOR GOODSIR

he is full of starry-eyed wonder and earnestness and really truly believes that there are good people in the empire because he is one of them and their mission is important and right! it’s for the economy! it’s for trade! it’s for discovery! And he genuinely does want to help people he insists the others treat Silna with basic humanity as much as he can and he’s the only one (except Crozier) who bothers to try and learn any Netsilik. He’s one of the only ones who sees wonder in the land.

And yet. in his search to convince himself that he is good and the mission is good. he actually bears a significant amount of responsibility for the death of Tuunbaq. He knows that if he poisons himself and others eat the poisoned meat, they will also become poisoned. He knows that Tuunbaq is hunting and eating them. But there’s seemingly no consideration for what might happen if Tuunbaq eats the people he poisoned in turn. Either he didn’t know (but the idea that toxins biomagnify up tropic levels is pretty basic ecology) or (what i think is more likely) he just also thought of Tuunbaq as an existential threat and did not understand its importance to Silna and her people or that they wanted it to be kept alive.

Tuunbaq’s death is the reason Silna is exiled from her people and condemned to live alone forever. Despite being one of her only allies on Terror, Goodsir still ends up a bit responsible for her fate! I think what all of this is trying to point to is the fact that even though Goodsir is king and wants to do good, that just does not erase his role in being one of these agents of empire quite literally bringing all of this poison and blight and sickness and introducing it to the island and its ecosystem and its inhabitants. even if it was through ignorance or done with good intentions. lots to think about

[endofradio]

TRUE ECOLOGY — CHAPTER 5: THE WOLF IS HUNGRY

PROLOGUE | CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4

WARNINGS: NSFW (ermmm… salem loses her virginity but not in the way she would’ve expected for it to happen 😊 idk girl get that wealthy weird german dick i guess)

NOTES: Y’all. Bear with me. i wrote like 90% of this chapter while i was sick as fuck so it’s kind of insane. i cannot believe it ended up being so long but whatever. i dedicate this chapter to the könig freaks and also @trelaney for putting up with my yapping and giving me ideas <3

and i promise this chapter does make sense 🙏 trust me salem is going to be put through Situations later! never let german guys rizz you up

SUMMARY: after they return to her suite, könig decides to stick around and further test salem’s limits. she responds by unexpectedly kissing him, which seems to end up flipping a switch.

WORD COUNT: 3,858 (yeah.)

TAGLIST: @crispysafetensors @trelaney @spookyspecterino @starryrevelations @fran-tau @kolcheksluver @actually-adambarrett @13th-floor-in-moonstone @samcrpnters @creelkobblelaufeyson69 @lokidoki9 (message me if you’d like to be added to my taglist! commenting is also fine)

reblogs and comments are heavily appreciated! they help keep me motivated <3

That night, as König guided Salem out of the hospital, he did something that caught her off-guard.

While they were walking down the forest trail, he wrapped an arm around her, almost protectively. The gesture was unexpected, his touch causing her to flinch just a little. He didn’t say a word to her and she didn’t say a word to him. They just continued to walk like that in complete silence.

When they entered the lobby, Sabina was sitting at the reception desk, her eyebrow raised as she watched the pair walk past her and down the hall.

Once they reached the door to Salem’s suite, she withdrew the key from her skirt pocket, unlocked it, and opened the door. As König stood by the doorway, she walked inside, placing the key on the nightstand by her bed.

“Hm, mind if I come in?”

Salem turned to look at König, who was now in the doorway, his arms behind his back. “Mhm, go ahead.”

Smiling, he entered the room, walking closer until he almost stood directly in front of Salem. The height difference between them was significant; he easily towered over her.

Then, König slowly and methodically began to walk in a circle around Salem, like that of a predatory animal circling its prey. When she turned to look up at him, he instantly paused, his expression now intense.

As the two of them looked at each other, the air seemed to feel… tense, like words were waiting to be spoken by both of them.

“Why did you stay in my hospital room?” Salem then asked, her voice quiet. “You… you barely left.”

Salem had never even properly seen a doctor while in the hospital, at least not when she was awake. Was her father even aware of a single thing that had happened in the past hours? König had told one of the doctors that she was fine, that she didn’t need to be looked at any further, and that she could leave that night. The hospital staff always listened to him. He told them what to do, and they blindly obeyed without batting an eye.

“Hm, I was simply monitoring your condition,” König then answered casually. “Is it wrong for me to be considerate, my dear?”

The man was certainly messing with Salem’s head, and she almost hated it. He was so nice to her… so charming. It was… unsettling, almost.

Salem took a couple more steps towards König, getting a closer look at him. Yes, she most likely wouldn’t say it out loud, but he was undoubtedly quite handsome for his age. She attempted to push down that thought as soon as it came up, silently shaming herself for thinking such a thing.

König began to circle her once again, stopping once he was standing right behind her. She felt him place a hand on her shoulder and quickly turned around, her heart starting to pound. What was he trying to do here? She looked up at him, her eyes wide and her breath starting to quicken.

Perhaps it was an act of impulse, but Salem suddenly found her pressing her lips to his in the blink of an eye. The second her mind registered what she was doing, she immediately pulled away, backing up and trying to create some distance between them. Great, now she was ashamed. In her mind, she had completely fucked up.

König’s gaze had now darkened, his eyes narrowing. To Salem, it probably looked like he was angry, but he wasn’t.

“I… I shouldn’t have done that. I’m… I’m sorry.”

Salem’s voice was sheepish as she continued to back away further from him, nervously watching as he suddenly turned around, closing the door… and locking it.

“You’re right. You shouldn’t have done that, but you did it anyway, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t mean to. It was… an accident.”

The words were tumbling out of Salem’s mouth at that point. Now, König was slowly closing in on her, his gaze somehow even more intense. Once he was mere inches away from her, he stopped.

“An accident?”

Salem nodded, hoping König would believe her, but it was clear that he didn’t in the slightest. In fact, he decided he would test her a little bit. He reached with a hand to lightly touch her face, noticing how she tensed up almost immediately. It wasn’t an uncomfortable kind of tense, though. No, no… the look in her eyes was telling a different kind of story.

König wasn’t stupid. He could easily identify any sort of deception by analyzing somebody’s demeanor.

Gently, he grasped Salem’s chin, forcing her to look at him directly. “Why aren’t you pulling away from me, hm?” He asked, his eyebrow raised as his voice took on an intrigued tone. “Is there something you aren’t telling me, perhaps?”

Salem’s breathing was growing increasingly shallow as the two of them were now the closest they had ever physically been. She could feel his warm breath lightly fanning her face. Was he trying to get a reaction out of her?

“Why did… why did you lock the door…?”

There was a flicker of something in König’s eyes at that moment that Salem couldn’t identify.

“Can’t have anyone… walking in on us now… can we?”

“What do you m—”

Finishing what Salem had started, König firmly pressed his lips against hers, causing her to let out a muffled, surprised gasp. The kiss was somewhat gentle at first as he ran his fingers through her hair, his other hand cupping her cheek before slowly moving down to her neck.

Then, the kiss slowly increased in intensity, König parting Salem’s lips with his own as he deepened the kiss. His hand that was in her hair moved down to grab at her waist as he lifted her off of the floor with ease, staggering over to the bed and lowering her onto it. The second Salem was on the bed, König covered her small body with his own as his lips traveled to her jawline, peppering it with small kisses before moving to her neck.

Salem was completely overwhelmed, her body heating up as she let out another sharp gasp. Almost immediately, König covered her mouth with his hand, lifting his head from her neck to look at her.

“Quiet.”

With his hand still covering her mouth, König resumed planting kisses all along her neck. Slowly, he removed his hand, his fingers fumbling with the buttons on her blouse.

“Wait—”

“Shhh.”

The second Salem’s chest was exposed to him, König’s lips traveled down there, eventually stopping once they reached her stomach. Before he chose to do anything further, he moved back up, his lips just practically ghosting hers.

“Tell me…” he whispered, his breathing already much heavier. “Am I the first to… do this with you…? At least, that’s how it seems…”

Salem slowly nodded, finding herself unable to speak.

“Now tell me… do you… want me to… stop…?”

This time, Salem shook her head and spoke, her voice no more than the smallest of a whisper. “Please… don’t.”

That single sentence and the way she said it made König’s final thread of self-control snap. His lips met hers again, his patience dwindling. This angel straight from the heavens had managed to weave her way right under his skin, and he wasn’t going to let that go. No, no… not one bit.

He didn’t even bother undressing, either. Right now, it seemed like too much work, so he simply began to unbutton the fly of his white pants. For a man who prided himself on being so full of self-control, he was certainly losing his mind at this very moment.

“I’ll be… very gentle…” he whispered against her soft lips.

Whether he was truly being honest or not, even he didn’t know.

König kissed Salem again, a little more desperately this time, his hands slowly traveling down her body. He was desperately trying to hold back, trying not to hurry, but it was getting to be so, so difficult.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, drawing in her scent, an almost hypnotic aroma of lavender.

“You… were sent to tempt me… weren’t you?”

“Wh… what…?”

“I should not be doing this… yet I am, and you refuse to pull away…”

As he started to pepper her neck with kisses again, König began to slide a hand up Salem’s skirt. “You want this… don’t you?”

Slowly, he began to tug her underwear to the side. Then, he climbed on top of her even further in an attempt to get impossibly closer to her, practically trapping her beneath him, causing her to let out a small, startled gasp.

“Shhh… relax, my dear. Listen… to your… body…”

His lips pressed against hers again, his body slowly shifting. Salem tightly shut her eyes as she anticipated his next move, feeling a confusing combination of anxiety and… want…?

After a few moments, König suddenly moved, and she felt a sharp, sudden pain shoot through her body — a brief pain. She gasped again, the sound soon muffled by a hand over her mouth.

“Quiet… shhh… your father mustn’t hear…”

He moved again, and the pain slowly began to dissolve into pleasure. Salem’s eyes shot open as she looked up at him, seeing how his gaze had turned more primal… hungry. The sight was slightly alarming, but Salem found herself clinging to him, her hands tightly gripping onto his shoulders.

“There…” König whispered as he now moved in a slow, steady rhythm. “There… yes…”

There was no more pain now… only sweetness, her nails digging into his shirt as the sensations started to overwhelm her. Suddenly, it didn’t matter how wrong this all was. Now, it was like she was in heaven.

As they stared into each other’s eyes, the tension in that room was reaching unbearable, suffocating levels. König’s breath gently fanned her face as it came out in heavy pants, his lips parted. He was a man possessed.

Then, he leaned to mumble something in her ear, and that just about killed her.

“Du schöner Engel... dein Körper wurde vom Himmel geschickt. (You beautiful angel… your body was sent from heaven.)”

He smirked against her neck as he felt her tense up a little at his words. Ah, so she liked that. Perfect.

“Du schönes Mädchen... du warst für mich bestimmt. (You beautiful girl… you were meant for me.)”

He heard her suppress a gasp, which only served as motivation for him to continue, his hips rocking against hers more deeply as he panted against the shell of her ear.

“Du machst mich verrückt... du machst mich verrückt… (You’re making me crazy… you’re making me crazy…)”

The words were an almost-groan at that point, and he quickly lifted his hand from her mouth to kiss her deeply. It was a desperate, rough, messy kiss with no gentleness or tenderness behind it. He slipped his tongue into her mouth with zero hesitation, firmly grasping her jaw between his fingers. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her even closer to him as he gasped against her lips, the pleasure mounting more and more. She felt so, so perfect.

The moment König felt Salem’s arms wrap around his neck, that was when it truly sunk in that she was just as far gone as he was. His lips traveled down her jawline to her neck and then her collarbone, drawing closer and closer to her chest.

“Wie würde sich Ihr Vater fühlen, wenn er wüsste, was seine wertvolle, unschuldige Tochter tut… (How would your father feel if he knew what his precious, innocent daughter was doing…)” he then asked, punctuating his question with a small bite to her skin. “Gerade jetzt, hinter verschlossenen Türen? (Right now, behind closed doors?)”

He let out a small chuckle against her skin, his words getting increasingly bolder with each second.

“Oh, er würde so enttäuscht sein... (Oh, he would be so disappointed…)”

Something in Salem just snapped. As though a switch had flipped within her, she quickly pushed König onto his back, straddling his waist. Caught off-guard by the sudden switch in positions, he looked up at her, his gaze darkening.

“Du kleiner Teufel. (You little devil.)”

Salem was staring down at him wide-eyed, her breathing heavy. “Shut up.” She gasped. “Stop.”

“Hm?” König then chuckled. “Or what? Ah, I had a feeling you aren’t so innocent as you’re letting on…”

Salem pulled her underwear down to her ankles, noticing how König intently watched her as she did so, awaiting her next move with an amused gleam in his eyes.

“I said… shut up.” She then whispered, her voice shaking.

“Hm, that’s not rather kind—”

König couldn’t finish the rest of his sentence, letting out a sharp gasp as he suddenly felt Salem’s hips rocking against him. His large hands reached to grip her waist, his nails digging into her flesh through her skirt as he instinctually guided her movements.

Normally, he would refuse to give up power like this, but seeing the way Salem’s face contorted in pleasure… he’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t affecting him. And the way she firmly placed her hands on his chest to try and steady herself…

Salem’s breath suddenly hitched again, and she could now feel a particular heat starting to develop in her abdomen. The sensation was unfamiliar to her. All she knew was that it was overwhelming.

“Look at you…” König whispered, his voice hoarse. “Dein Vater hat eine solche Hure großgezogen... (Your father has raised such a whore…)”

A sudden shockwave of pleasure shot through him, and König laid his head back, his eyes fluttering shut as his grip on Salem’s waist tightened.

“Oh…” he hissed.

Salem’s head tilted back as her lips parted and her eyes closed in ecstasy, her pace starting to quicken just a little. She was trying so hard to be quiet, but it felt near-impossible in the intense euphoric state she was in. And so, König’s name quietly fell from her lips in a hushed whisper.

His eyes blinked open when he heard that sound, and he immediately pulled himself up into a sitting position, wrapping an arm around Salem’s waist and pulling her so impossibly close. Frantically and desperately, he decorated her with kisses wherever he could — her neck, her jaw, her collarbone… all over her face, and his hands were grabbing her wherever they could.

Salem then let out a small whimper, and König immediately muffled her with his hand again.

“Shhh… bitte, Sie müssen still sein. (please, you must be quiet.)”

She was grabbing at the collar of his shirt now, her desperation obvious as the heat pooling in her abdomen burned more and more.

And then, there was a knock on the door.

König released his hand from Salem’s mouth to allow her to speak, planting kisses all over her face and neck again. Was he trying to make her insane?

Taking a deep breath, Salem tried her hardest to keep her voice steady, which proved to be a serious challenge.

“What… what is it?”

“Is everything… alright in there?”

His patience deteriorating, König pushed Salem back onto the mattress, smirking against her neck as he heard her swallow a gasp. She writhed underneath him as his hips shifted, her nails digging into his back through his shirt. It was almost like he was intentionally tormenting her now that her father was behind the door.

“What do you… mean?” She asked, running a hand through König’s soft hair as she tried so desperately to maintain her composure.

“I heard a noise. Just thought I’d check on you.”

“Everything’s… fine. I just had a nightmare, that’s all.”

A sudden violent jolt of pleasure hit Salem as König finally reached the most sensitive part of her body, and she forced herself to not cry out in ecstasy, her legs beginning to quiver.

“Are you sure?”

Salem nodded, clenching her teeth as a whimper threatened to leave her lips.

“Yes.”

There was a period of awkward silence that followed, seeming to stretch on for far too long. König’s face was burrowed in the crook of Salem’s neck as he was fighting to hold back. He couldn’t recall the last time he had felt like this; it was like he was a teenager all over again.

“Alright.”

Once Salem heard her father’s footsteps disappear, she just about breathed a sigh of relief. König didn’t stop there, though. No, not even close.

“Wie unanständig... in diesem Zustand mit deinem Vater zu sprechen. (How indecent… to talk to your father in this state.)”

“What are you… saying…?” Salem asked with a whimper.

“Hm… I don’t believe that’s something you need to know…”

“Wh… why…?”

“Mm, I already told you…”

“You… you bastard…”

Another sudden jolt of pleasure sent shivers down Salem’s body, the heat in her abdomen building and building, her muscles tensing more and more. Her eyes looked up at the ceiling, her vision growing hazy as she drowned, drowned, drowned in absolute bliss. Time felt like it was slowing down, and nothing else seemed to exist except for the two of them.

“Sie sind nah dran, nicht wahr? (You’re close, aren’t you?)” König asked, his voice a husky, erotic whisper.

Salem’s only response was a whine that was slightly higher in pitch. She grabbed at the collar of his shirt again, desperately trying to pull him even closer. König could tell — and feel — that she was on the verge of climax, and he figured that he might as well make her suffer a little longer.

“Ah-ah,” he gently scolded. “Nicht jetzt. (Not now.) Beg.”

“Please.”

Salem’s voice was breaking at that point, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. “Slow… slow down. Please.”

And then, König switched their positions, Salem being on top of him again. Instinctually, she began to move, this time at a more fervent pace, but König firmly gripped her hips, forcing her to slow down.

Now, Salem truly felt like she was being tortured. The pressure had reached an unbearable level and she was desperate for relief, yet König wasn’t letting her have it.

Why was he forcing her to wait, when he was barely hanging on just as much as she was? She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was desperately clinging on. She could feel it, too. He was incredibly tense.

“Wait,” König ordered, his voice raspy. “Wait, until I say you can.”

Salem’s eyes were starting to water even more with the effort of holding back her climax. Each time she felt him rub against her most sensitive skin, her stomach tingled and twisted into knots.

“Please…” she whined. “Please…”

All she could do was beg, wanting nothing more than to be finally let free.

And then, she felt him begin to thrust up into her, and that was the final straw.

“Jetzt. (Now.)”

With one particularly sharp thrust, König found that sweet spot of hers again, causing Salem to let out a sound that was a mixture of a gasp and a whimper. Her hips suddenly jerked, and that was it.

Now, she was experiencing the most pleasurable, blissful, euphoric thing she had ever felt in her lifetime. It washed over her in sweet spasms, causing her head to tilt back as a quiet, prolonged moan fell gracefully from her lips.

She was squeezing him so tightly, and combined with the sight of her losing herself to absolute ecstasy was the very thing that gave König that final push. Trying to stifle the sounds coming from the both of them, he pulled Salem down against him in a messy, deep kiss.

Salem knew he’d met his release when she felt a sudden warmth shoot through her body, and all the while, their bodies continued to move together in an erratic rhythm. For König, it had been years since he had last experienced something this intense. His release possessed his entire body; once it began, it couldn’t stop.

“Ein solcher Engel… ein solcher Engel… (Such an angel… such an angel…)”

As the two of them rode out their shared high together, Salem was floating in a reality unlike this one. She felt like she was dreaming, lightheaded, and completely weak.

The feeling was so beautiful that she was disappointed when it was all over, collapsing onto König’s chest with a shaky sigh. Salem was a trembling, exhausted mess at that point.

“You’re…” she murmured, her face burrowed in his shirt. “You’re dangerous… dangerous…”

She struggled to catch her breath, her limbs trembling every time she attempted to move. König’s heart was racing just as much as hers was, her comment eliciting a weak, dazed chuckle from him.

“You’re shaking, my dear.”

Salem was much too weak to get off of him. She just remained there on his chest, her arms wrapped around him as her breathing slowly began to regulate. To her surprise, she found herself not wanting to separate from him, holding onto him like he was a life source as he left gentle kisses on the top of her head.

For a while, they just remained there like that as they both slowly returned to reality, and once the realization of what had happened sunk in, Salem felt… guilty. This man was old enough to be her father, yet here she was.

Speaking of her father, Salem was now worried that he caught on to what had happened. Had the little act she had put on been convincing enough? She sure hoped so.

Finally finding the strength to pull away from König, she slowly sat up on the bed, running a hand through her now-messy hair as she let out a sigh. “We shouldn’t have done that. I swear, if my father suspects anything…”

König continued to lie there, looking up at Salem with a mildly perplexed expression on his face. “Mm, he won’t.”

He then reached up, his fingers delicately moving along the skin of her neck. “Our little secret, yes?”

Despite his cool demeanor, he couldn’t deny the regret Salem was exhibiting actually… hurt. In his mind, he couldn’t understand why she felt that way. He didn’t regret it, so why did she?

In response to König’s words, Salem slowly nodded, trying to push down the sudden wave of guilt and shame that she felt. Maybe she was worrying too much.

“In that case,” König then spoke, pulling himself up, “I cannot risk staying here, as much as I’d like to.”

Now, why was Salem suddenly finding herself wanting him to stay? But… she understood, nodding and not saying anything, just watching as he fixed himself up.

“I have… things to attend to, anyway.”

König glanced down at his pants, muttering something under his breath that Salem couldn’t exactly understand, and then looked back at her. “I suggest you clean yourself up as well.”

Right.

The last word König spoke to her was a simple “goodnight,” and then he was gone, leaving Salem with what felt like a million things on her mind.

[manusuchus]

A speculative arboreal crocodylian

A year ago I began my research on the Mekosuchians, especially around the genus Mekosuchus and my already very strong skepticism at that time about the claims that they were tree-dwelling crocodiles (Something extremely improbable and which I may comment on another occasion. For now you can read in depth about Mekosuchus in this post by Armin).

At that point I wondered ; what would an arboreal crocodile really look like if it existed? 

I decided that it would be a derived member of the subfamily Caimaninae, specifically belonging to the Jacarea clade (which includes all species of the genus Caiman and Melanosuchus). 

The body has evolved in a convergentely with squamates such as Varanus salvator, being thinner and more elongated than that of any other crocodylian, following the same process the tail : Once the motor that propelled it underwater, is now becoming something similar to a whip that allows it to maintain balance on the branches, losing the characteristic single and double caudal crest whorls, to the point of almost disappearing.

The dorsal osteoderms are shrinking, but are still visible and play an important role in the ecology of the animal, helping it to thermoregulate. 

The limbs have been considerably widened and strengthened, an adaptation very visible in the metatarsals of the hind legs, which, together with the sharp, curved claws they have developed, help the animal to cling effectively to trees. 

The skull is the most distinctive part of all, as it has not only become shorter and more robust as a whole (Males have even developed an anteorbital crest similar to that of some members of the genus Crocodylus such as C. acutus or the extinct C. checchiai ; very likely some kind of sexual dimorphism), but it is developing unique characteristics such as binocular vision, zyphodont dentition and laterodorsally positioned nostrils, all of these attributes usually associated with terrestrial hunters (although there is not a necessary relationship in all cases), thus moving away from the semi-aquatic lifestyle.

Despite this, these crocodiles are still dependent on water to a certain extent, always inhabiting the forests near the rivers and being able to swim perfectly well if necessary, just like the extant iguanas and monitor lizards.

If I had to add some kind of worldbuilding that allows the existence of this animal, it would probably be located millions of years in the future : After a cataclysmic event related to climate change, South America has suffered a process of desertification in which large bodies of water have dried up, forcing the very abundant babas (Caiman crocodilus) to move into the remaining forests and jungles, adapting to a more terrestrial lifestyle. As an isolated population of these caimans chose the birds and monkeys as their preferred prey, they would gradually follow them to the treetops.

After a few more million years, the land has recovered, and large rivers and lakes are once again flooding South America, favoring the emergence of large tropical jungles again, opening a new world for these tree-dwelling caimans. Will they manage to adapt to the new climatic conditions or will they become extinct as a consequence of this and other factors such as the emergence of new species of placental predators that threaten to occupy their niche?  Well, that is uncertain.

The illustration was made in gouache and watercolors during September 2022 . I scupted a small-basic figure made in clay to in order to facilitate the understanding of the lights and shadows.

Here are some pictures of the process:

[askgildaseniors]

Moises Santillan draws attention to the pervasive problem of microplastics, which are becoming an increasingly serious environmental and health risk. Microplastics, or minute plastic pieces, are not just found in water but appear to be prevalent almost everywhere. Moises notes that they may be found in a variety of daily plastic goods and in locations excessively contaminated with plastic garbage. The widespread prevalence of microplastics is an increasing concern since these particles infiltrate both our environment and our bodies, as scientific investigations show.

The health consequences of microplastics are especially concerning. Moises emphasizes that enhanced microscopy and other technologies have enabled researchers to detect microplastic particles within the human body. Considerably more troubling is the potential for microplastics to break down into smaller particles known as nanoplastics, which are considerably more widespread. These nanoplastics can enter the circulation, spread throughout the body, and potentially disrupt numerous biological activities. This compounding effect, in which plastics degrade into increasingly minute particles, raises major concerns about their influence on human health.

Microplastic pollution of the environment is also a significant concern. Moises notes that microplastics may be discovered anywhere plastic debris collects, contributing to the overall pollution catastrophe. Their persistence in the environment and tendency to disintegrate into smaller particles make them incredibly difficult to control. Pollution not only endangers animals, but it may also impact land, water, and food quality. As microplastics permeate many ecosystems, the long-term environmental consequences might be severe, threatening biodiversity and altering ecological equilibrium.

Moises emphasizes the urgent need for study and action to understand and reduce the impact of microplastics. The presence of these particles in the human body, their metamorphosis into nanoplastics, and their widespread environmental distribution all necessitate further scientific investigation. Potential solutions include lowering plastic manufacturing, improving waste management systems, and developing creative methods to break down these polymers safely. Through collaborative effort and ongoing study, humanity can address the threats posed by microplastics and move toward a healthier, more sustainable future.

[saywhatjessie]

“So you thought you kissed your way into that situation, might as well kiss your way out of it?” “Basically!” Jamie cried. “‘S like that old American sitcom, innit?”* Or the one where Jamie can't stop kissing Roy in front of other people. Written for the @rjbigbang! 10.1k [Ao3] Video by MicheleYourBelle under the cut

The way it started was so fucking stupid that Roy could not be surprised at any of the stupid things that followed.

He was sitting at his desk - the one that had formerly been Ted’s - and Jamie was sitting on the corner, chatting with Nate about Mother’s Day plans. It was still early, Jamie having taken a ride to training with Roy, so it was still mostly just the coaches waiting for the rest of the team to fill out the dressing room.

“It’s always shitty being so far from mummy on mummy’s day,” Jamie said, sadly, his feet gently kicking back against Roy’s desk. “But she always likes the flowers I send her. And Simon lets me pick what he makes her for breakfast, so it’s like I’m there.”

“That’s thoughtful, Jamie,” Nate smiled, his own feet kicking back against the bookshelves he always perched on. “My mum never lets anyone cook for her, not even on mother’s day. But I do get her flowers. My niece and I might make her another special box as well.”

“You’re dead good at those,” Jamie told him. “But what does she need all these boxes for?”

“Oh, nothing. They all end up collecting dust in the attic. But we like making ‘em and she likes getting ‘em, so there’s really no harm.”

“Unless you consider ecological harm,” Trent said, sliding into his place against the doorframe, his mug softly steaming. “I imagine this crafting generates considerable waste.”

“Come on, Trent, you can’t quantify the quality of making art by equating it to the trash it makes,” Beard argued. “I’d rather Nate and baby niece Nate make a ton of garbage doing crafts than the waste major corporations generate doing capitalism.”

“And you could always recycle,” Jamie said. “Use old magazines or summat. That’s what I used to do.”

“Were you crafty, Jamie?” Trent smiled. “Make little posters of your favourite footballers?”

Jamie stiffened, his eyes head making an aborted jerk like he was fighting not to look at Roy. “No.” 

Roy smirked.

“All right,” Roy started, leaning forward in his chair and shoving at Jamie’s back. “That’s enough, Tartt, go put on your kit.”

“Okay so maybe I did!” Jamie said, hopping off the desk and turning to face Roy. “Doesn’t mean they were for you. There are other footballers.”

“Not according to Simon,” Roy grinned, his head tilting back to look up at Jamie as Jamie stepped toward him. “I can call him and get the real story if you like.”

Jamie scoffed, folding his hands into the bottom of his jumper. “Simon doesn’t know everything .” He frowned, leaning forward. “But you better not call mummy.”

Roy rolled his eyes, his face going just a bit too fond for company. “Go change, Tartt.”

“Ay ay, Coach,” Jamie said before leaning in to kiss him goodbye.

Roy and Jamie had kissed before. They kissed all the time: had been since they first kissed after that disastrous fight over Keeley that got both of them kicked out of her home and good graces. They’d worked out their aggression, their mutual attraction and, soon enough, their quads while they were fucking it out back at Roy’s place.

Roy’d had a special clause put in his manager contract that he wouldn’t have to break up with Jamie and Jamie would be totally protected as a player if they did break up. He’d worked it out with Rebecca, with Higgins, and with Sharon during his many therapist appointments about it.

But no one else knew. They’d never done this in front of anyone else.

They both froze.

Jamie pulled away. He and Roy had a half second of eye contact where they had the following silent conversation:

“I fucked up.”

“You fucked up.”

“I can fix it!”

“How the fuck are you gonna fix it?”

“Shut up, I’ve got this.”

Jamie stood up, his back rail straight, and took a deep breath. Roy watched him as he put the ‘Jamie Tartt’ affectation back on, smirk fixed, as he turned back to the rest of the room, everyone still struck speechless.

“Coach!” Jamie said, again, stepping towards Nate. Nate sat there, stunned, as Jamie took his face in his hands and kissed him full on the mouth.

Now it was Roy’s turn to be speechless.

“Big man Trent Crimm!” Jamie said, turning to Trent, and planting a fat one on the writer’s mouth. Tren’t mouth was still puckered when Jamie pulled back.

Jamie turned and pointed at Beard. “And I wouldn’t forget you, Coach!”

Beard tilted his face up to accept the kiss, seeming more prepared for it than the other two had. 

Jamie pulled away with a loud “Muah!” and grinned around to the assembled coaches, slightly manic. “See you on the pitch!” And he turned and fled the office.

They all watched him go for a few beats before the other three all turned their gazes to Roy, demanding explanation.

Roy did his best to pull out a Roy Kent worthy performance. “What the fuck was that!?”

Trent hummed, touching his mouth, consideringly. “Not half bad is what that was.”

Roy swallowed a growl. He couldn’t be obviously jealous and it’s not like Trent was wrong. Jamie was a famously excellent kisser.

“I'm more surprised you let it happen,” Nate said, still staring at Roy. “You didn’t even headbutt him.”

Roy grunted, crossing his arms. “It’s in my contract I’m not allowed to nut players anymore.”

“Still, you think you’d do it on instinct,” Beard said, eyebrow raised. “You didn’t even shove him.”

“I panicked! Froze up or some shit.” Roy said, desperate to get the attention off of him. “None of you did it either.”

Nate shrugged his mouth. “Well I never dreamed he’d kiss me .” he said. “He used to shove sweaty pants at my face.”

“I figured he was trying something.” Beard said, dismissively. “Thought we’d see where it goes.”

They all looked at Trent who held up his rainbow mug in tribute. “Who am I to deny a kiss from a beautiful man?”

Roy very heroically did not possessively bare his teeth.

“Well I’ll tell him to cut that out,” he grunted. “Can’t have players just go around kissing people. We’ll have a whole sexual harassment crisis.”

“That’s only if people don’t want Jamie to kiss them,” Beard said, fairly.

Roy couldn’t quite bite back his growl at that. Beard put up his hands.

“I think it’s nice that we’ve created a culture where our players can be so comfortable with us,” Nate noted, pleased. “Remember when they were throwing me in bins?”

“Those can’t be the only two options,” Trent said. “Kissing or bins?”

“You’re right, we need a third option,” Beard said, leaning back in his chair. “Kiss, bin, go drinking with.”

“The three genders,” Trent confirmed with a smirk. “Of those three options, I’m happy to kiss Jamie. Couldn’t lift him to put him in a bin and I worry how we’d fair in conversation.”

Nate and Beard hummed in agreement and now Roy wanted to defend Jamie’s conversation skills of all things.

He wouldn’t because that would be fucking suspicious but he wanted to. How pathetic.

“I’ll bin the twat,” Roy said instead. “Someone should.”

“He’d probably bin himself if you asked him to,” Beard noted, smirking.

Roy smirked back, not disagreeing.

[Read the rest on Ao3]