#they just are named by the function they provide

[weaselle]

#i have a solution for a lot of this i'd love to implement but it means completely changing how people acquire and own dogs so#idk if i'll ever figure out how to make it happen

Would love to hear your proposed solution! I've been thinking a lot about providing satisfying enrichment to dogs, since right now I have a five-month-old puppy of unknown/mixed breed who of course has a steadily increasing amount of energy. She seems to enjoy doing obedience-type stuff with me, and I'm planning to try nosework with her soon, and when she's bigger I'm hoping to take her running/hiking.

ooooooo now you done it! :)

first of all, congrats on a great dog, sounds like you two are going to be really good together! I l really love the interest you are taking in enrichment. If you are not a runner yourself but want to run your dog, i can recommend biking your dog with walkydog (or any other similar product by some different brand, but i use walkydog even though the name drives me crazy because it's not for walking your dog lol)

i used this for 8 years with my own dog, and i've also been doing it professionally for other people's dogs (tho i did have to upgrade to a whole rig i designed and built for running dogs, i actually spent most of today working on a redesign to fix fit six dogs and just be generally better, but here's the original)

anyway, biking with my dog was so fulfilling i decided to make it my main job, so, i totally recommend it. You gotta wait until your dog is at least 18 months though, because regular long runs on hard surfaces can create lifelong joint issues if you start them on it too soon. But once you decide to start it will be easy i'm sure, 95% of the dogs i've done it with understand the assignment and decide they love it within the first 10 minutes of trying it. Even small dogs, as long as they are proportional in the leg department. What i mean is a jack russel is fine for this (they make a low attachment for small dogs) but a dachshund has stubby legs and a long back and should not be considered for this activity. And if they are a breed that has big fat paws (most bully breeds, giant schnauzers etc) you have to check their foot pads often and possibly get them some mushing booties.

OKAY, on to the actual ask! you came here from a specific post, dear Anon, but i'm going to paste the relevant part of that post here for other people

"Human lifestyles and canine lifestyles used to be a ven diagram that was much closer to a circle. We used to both live in the woods and hunt creatures and defend territory. Even farming or ranching is not too far from this lifestyle. It has been a great match up for a long time. But now, modern™ society has us living in a way that is much less of a match up. Clients want me to train their dogs not to bark, and are not encouraged when i explain that we spent literally thousands of years asking them to bark more, actually, so it’s going to be an uphill battle. Humans used to have very physical lifestyles, and it use d to be much rarer to spend a day where your dog couldn’t be with you all day doing normal dog behaviors. Now our lives are full of very strict and confining rules of behavior we expect from a dog, and yet people are spending less time than ever socializing/training their dogs to be functioning members of their own pack. It’s sad."

Now, what did i come up with that would be a much better system for how people acquire and own dogs? this post is already getting long, so, answer below the cut

First, specifically what problems am I solving? So for me, the main issues is nobody is teaching dogs how to be a good fit for a modern home. Let's break that down

People want dogs to have a lot of boundaries. For example don't bark unless someone is literally breaking in but also i haven't trained you what that looks like so how are you supposed to know -- be with me in public but do not interact with almost anything at all -- don't run up to greet people or other dogs unless we find out if it's okay with them first. Right? there's a lot of stuff we want from our dogs.

People want their dogs to be able to amuse themselves and not need a person, like, they want their dog to go lay down on their dog bed and chew their dog toys for hours at a time or whatever, the way we would happily spend a few hours online or watching TV shows or something. But most of what a dog would naturally do to amuse themselves is off limits -- no going out and exploring the world on your own -- no digging things up, taking things apart, or getting into things like the food cupboards -- no barking at other dogs, chasing cats, or eating random ground scores ... dogs aren't allowed to do almost anything they would do to amuse themselves, we basically tell them, "you can only do fun things i pick out for you and most of them only if i'm supervising, and i'm only available for about an hour a couple times a day. The rest of the time you have to be bored and waiting on me for fun, but also don't be so bored that you decide to bother me, i'm busy and you can't be involved"

We wish they would have fun by themselves in a way that doesn't involve them getting into trouble, but "getting into trouble" is most of their natural desires, and we tend to not find things they can spend time at on their own. Plus they'd rather do it with us anyway, it's like, you don't want go to an amusement park alone, you only want to go if your friends are going, and life is often one big amusement park to a dog.

But if your dog is trained to be in public, you can involve them with a lot more of your day!

And people aren't socializing their dogs right either. A puppy would normally spend a year or more, 100% of their waking life in the company of their littermates, teaching each other things like "if you are an asshole others won't want to play with you and you might get bit" and "paying attention to what others are communicating to you is important" and "biting me that hard is okay for playing but biting me this hard hurts actually and i hate it and play time is over now" all kinds of super necessary things for a young dog to learn

But we take them at 8-10 weeks! and then WE don't teach them this stuff! and we expect them to be alone for long periods of time! and not sleep in a giant cuddle pile of loved ones, and not be participating in what their siblings or mother are doing 100% of their waking life.

It's crazy, we're basically severing a dog from the experiences they need to be a well adjusted member of our pack, and then we go like "why are you like this!?"

Oh dear, i still haven't gotten to the actual solution

SO. Here it is:

Dogs, should be born and raised in a facility (not like a sterile warehouse building or whatever, yuck, but yes like, a place designed inside and out for the sole purpose of raising dogs)

At this facility would be adult dogs that also help teach the dogs (important, in terms of socialization and even in modeling behavior, dogs can often learn more from other dogs than we can teach them on our own) And of course there would be a staff of professional dog nannies/trainers.

Dogs would learn things like, proper barking etiquette, go to the bathroom where they are told it is okay (not just in the yard, but where in the yard, and how to be told where is okay if, for example staying in a hotel or overnight with friends or family) no resource guarding (no threatening to bite anyone who gets too near their food or toys etc) how to behave around children and small pets, how to behave in public, how to calmly let someone feel between their toes, clip their nails, enjoy a bath, behave at the vet, not beg for food, heel off leash, how to learn new home and pack responsibilities using a basic toolkit (so for example they know basic task "carry", and understand that they may be asked to do jobs involving that, such as "help me carry groceries in from the car. Dogs LOVE to be a functional part of the pack). All this and more.

all the things that give a pet dog access to a better life. If they are calm at the vet they don't have to be held down or other things that can cause panic, if they behave in public they can go with their people more places more often, etc. As well as some additional bonuses like get outside if you hear a fire alarm, don't be scared of fireworks, the difference between safe sidewalks and dangerous roadways...

The time, energy, and skill to do all this for your dog? nobody has all three. Getting a dog from a facility like this would result in a dog that had actually been given the tools to be a really good fit for a modern home, which means a better life for the people, and a MUCH more fulfilling life for the dog.

But people want puppies. I get that. Here's how it works. Keep in mind that most dogs become fully adult at about 2 years old, and that once the facility was operating the exact ages and periods of time would probably be adjusted and fine tuned, but here's the basic idea

you come see the puppies at about 2 weeks old, visit as many days a week as you want. At twelve weeks old (3 months) specific puppies and people are matched. Continue to visit as many days a week as you wish, and take your puppy home for 24 hours every other week (remember most people bring puppies home from a breeder at 8-10 weeks, so this is prime puppy age)

Meanwhile you start taking our one class per month, year long dog course, matched to the stage of development your puppy is experiencing, held at the facility where you have access to, for example, watching trainers work with dogs, and observing groups of dogs in areas alone together, so that you understand dog behavior and communication, understand the basics of dog training, etc, and we are all on the same page when your dog does come to live with you.

At six months old your puppy is this much of a puppy still :

They start joining you for most of your classes which can become more personal, helping you practice whatever you are trying to accomplish at home. Also starting at 6 months you take your puppy home every other weekend.

At 8 months you take your puppy three weekends each month (actual days don't mater, if you work in restaurants and what to have your dog on your "weekend" of wednesday/thursday that's fine, it should just be your days off so that you can dedicate enough of your time to being with your puppy) At ten months you take your puppy every weekend, or perhaps something like for one week in the first half of the month and one weekend in the second half.

One year old puppies are starting to look like a whole dog but are still only half baked

At a year, your once a month classes end, and you take your dog home every other week. You are half a dog owner, you spend half your time with your half grown dog.

Between 18 months and 2 years is a normal age for wolves to begin setting out on their own; being 18 months is sort of the dog equivalent to being 17 years old.

So when your dog is a year and a half, 18 months old, you take one follow up class and your dog starts spending 3 weeks per month with you.

At a year and nine months old they are only spending 1 weekend a month at the facility (again, could be any two days of the week) and the rest of the month they live with you.

At two years old you take your final class which is mostly a group Q&A with a little graduation party, and your dog comes to live with you full time as a newly adult dog. But they've already been spending at least 3 weeks a month with you for the last half a year, and about half of every month for the six months before that.

And then for the next year they come back to the facility for a weekend of training touch-ups and trouble shooting, once every three or four months if they are having no issues, once a month if needed.

If this was the norm, dog owners and their dogs would all have better lives.

Costs of this raising could be augmented through boarding and daycare, since the facility would be an ideal place for dogs to stay, as well as the programs outlined below, such that each dog is not too expensive for people. Currently people spend a lot of money for purebreds and very little money for random adopted dogs, and something like this could still be true, (responsibly bred) purebreds for more money, mutts for much less, but all with access to the full training -- it's important that the dogs all not cost too much or it won't be normalized and puppy mills and backyard breeders etc will still provide a huge percentage of the dogs people get and then only rich people's dogs will benefit from what i am trying to do, so, these other programs and pure-breed mark ups etc would be necessary)

So these facilities should also be training service dogs of all kinds, and, depending on the location of the facility (city or countryside) different jobs like search and rescue, herding, anything related to law enforcement (simply because i 100% do not trust the cops to be training their own dogs) hunting... any and all dog jobs.

AND this would be a perfect way to ensure my other dog idea gets done

Because i think there should be battalions of diagnostic dogs.

I think there should be a few diagnostic dogs at every public event, every sporting event, every concert, every mall, and certainly every hospital... Every crowded place there should be a few dogs moving though, or posted up at walkway intersections, etc. Dogs that diagnose heart murmurs, diabetes, cancer, whatever; dogs can diagnose all kinds of things. It only takes a few sniffs or a few seconds of listening and they can know. As a free diagnostic service paid for by municipalities, states, or federal healthcare funding, they could be pointing out all the people who have these conditions to their handlers (who would have little business cards that just said, hey you've been dog-diagnosed with ____, you should probably check with your doctor about that"). And you could get like, special little lightly scented bracelets or key chains or necklaces or something that would let dogs know if you've already been diagnosed with their thing.

Many of these conditions currently require lab work and weeks of time and a bunch of money to diagnose, and you have to realize you might have it and ask for it and your doctor has to agree that it's necessary, it's a whole thing... but a dog could do it for free in 10 seconds while you were walking into a shopping center.

Anyway, those are some of my dog thoughts

[caprigender]

Im looking up concertina prices again

because that’s something I can definitely learn to do with all of this free time I’m just swimming in

[mixingandmelting]

Heavy Blanket

Summary: You were cold and needed a blanket. He decides to be that blanket only to get too comfy and lay on top of you longer than needed

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You’re hot. Sweltering. Wheezing. Lungs close to collapsing. And no matter how many times you tell him, he won’t. Get. Off.

“Simon, please.” You gently nudge his shoulder, trying to get him to look at you. “I’m suffocating here.” 

He simply grunts, nuzzling his face into your chest as his arms tighten around your chest. You suppose it’s your fault, having told him that you were cold and not wanting to get off the couch to get a blanket. You just.. didn’t expect him to take it quite literally and provide you a heavy, weighted one (i.e., him). 

You sigh. Maybe you could push him off…? You glance down only to be reminded how massive he is, easily engulfing your being so that it looks like there’s simply a single person on the sofa. Hell, the only indication you’re even lying there is your head and arms poking out from underneath. No body, just ligaments. 

Yeah. It’s Not happening. As if sensing your disgruntlement, he lifts his head so his eyes would be looking into yours. For a moment the two of you stare, waging a wordless battle.

“…For a person called ghost, you’re so cheeky.”

He snorts, going back to comfortably resting his head on your chest.

“Only to you, love. Only to you.” 

Took the words right out of your mouth. 

Shaking your head in exasperation, you card your fingers through his hair. Welp. laundry is definitely not getting done today. 

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish

“Johnny?”

“No.”

“Johnny.”

“No.”

“John Mactavish.”

That gets him to lift his head up. You try not to snort at the offended look he gives you, his eyes asking if you had seriously just used his full name over something like this. Instead, you take this chance to finally get some precious O2 in your lungs and enjoy weight being lifted off of you. Literally. 

You had forgot and now remembered his biceps are the size of your head when he props onto his elbows, bright blue eyes staring directly into yours. 

“Luvie, I’m not John Mactavish to you. Am I?” 

“No. But,” you shuffle to get around but he doesn’t budge. Dammit. “You are a furnace. Heavy, hard, and exuding only heat.” 

Instantly you regret saying that, recognizing the glint in his eyes. 

“Heavy and hard, aye?”  

One hand to cover your burning face, you use the other to smack his chest. You and your stupid mouth. Him and his stupid, smug, smirk. Chuckling, he moves and gets comfortable before snuggling you again. At least he’s being mindful this time, making sure you aren’t feeling as if you’re being flattened into a pancake. As for you, you nuzzle your face into the junction where his neck and shoulder meet. It’s going to take a while for you to function, the embarrassment still fresh and searing your soul. 

Kim Hong Jin "Horangi"

You swear you’re dating a giant cat, not a tiger. The ones that enjoy pushing a glass off the table while you’re looking and begging with your eyes not to. Smiling as some crying lady points at them over a salad. 

You’ve been shoving and pushing him by the shoulders, and so far you’ve successfully freed half of your upper body (more like that’s the only leeway he’s willing to give but you choose to ignore that).

“Hong Jin.” You pant between each word, exhausted and having much of your strength sapped out of you. “You need to let go.”

“싫은데?“ (Don’t want to?) 

…This man and his nerves. 

“No, seriously.” You nudge him, hoping it would get your message across. “I can’t even feel my legs.”

“Just five more minutes.” His groan coming out muffled from him burying his face into your tummy. 

Five minutes ago he said that. Which was also what he said five minutes before that. Now you’re uncomfortable, feeling the half of you he’s holding onto sweat while the other feels chilly from the sudden loss of heat. Worst is how effortless it is for him to keep you still, lazily lying on top of you being enough to stop you from worming yourself out. Like sure, you do enjoy how well-built he is but not like this! 

Sucking a breath in, you go back trying to pry yourself off as he stays where he is, eyes closed and a grin plastered on his face. 

König 

A king-size mattress. That’s what he is. And certainly feels that way too with how he easily engulfs both you and the bed. 

“Konig.” You gently shake him, only for him to turn his head. 

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry though, at the moment, it would hurt if you do either. Every time you try calling him out or getting his attention, he’d turn his head where he’d lie on one cheek then flip to the other. He doesn’t even make a sound. No harrumphs, grunts, or a sigh. All of you wanted to do was go get ready since the two of you are supposed to meet with his friends. Now? Not happening. 

“We need to get ready. It’s already quarter past five.” 

He squeezes your waist in response, snuggling himself into you. Just like a petulant kid, thinking if he doesn’t say anything and pretends to not hear you, you would stop. You try to slip from being underneath him, not enjoying being the filling in the mattress sandwich. Unfortunately for you, fortunately for him, you give up in less than ten seconds realizing how much you’d have to go through to just get a hand out. 

You raise your hand to place it on his shoulder until he stops you by grabbing at the wrist. He drags and presses it against his cheek, making you feel stubbles under your fingertips. Biting your lip, you close your eyes and mentally count from ten. 

“You better text them we’re not going.” You grumble, cupping his face in your hands. 

“Already did.”

You shake your head. This man. 

[deikshen]

Shen Qingqiu who, while Shang Qinghua is recovering from some random poisoning (that demon has already died at the hands of Mobei, don't worry), is forced to spend time with Mobei-jun.

At first it's tense. He arrives, a mandatory tea out of politeness. It's usually frozen. They don't have much to talk about or anything in common except their concern for Shang Qinghua.

Except they do have in common. At some point, perhaps, Shen Qingqiu mentions some rare beast, and Mobei-jun comments that he killed a couple of those. That leads to the first long conversation the two of you can have.

The next time, Mobei-jun brings back the beast's fangs. The two return to their conversation about monsters. Mobei-jun speaks little, concisely, but he talks about how to kill those beasts, the properties of their organs, the functioning of their poisons. Shen Qingqiu shares his bestiaries and provides additional information.

Then, even when Shang Qinghua improves, Shen Qingqiu usually takes advantage of the time when he has to stay in the northern palace with his husband to, well, expand his bestiary. Mobei-jun also seems to be passionate about flora that can kill, or anything huge and dangerous. Shen Qingqiu enjoys their conversations and learns to get more than just a few words out of Mobei-jun's sullen mouth.

Of course, he actually tells Shang Qinghua:

"When your husband isn't being monosyllabic, it's a good conversation" he says simply. "I didn't know he knew so much about flora, monsters and strange beasts. When I find a rare flower and can't remember its name, I'll ask Mobei, not you."

Shang Qinghua laughs a lot at that.

"Ah, I think that's because, well, you know, inspirations and all that..."

Shen Qingqiu looks at Shang Qinghua very curiously.

"Inspirations? You created your perfect husband from scratch. Who did you get your inspiration from, Airplane bro? Spill the tea, let's see the vicious tastes of this shameless author."

Shang Qinghua laughs a little foolishly.

"Well, you see, I had this classmate in college. A very rich guy" Shang Qinghua makes a funny face as he buries in the past. "He was cold and monosyllabic, even hostile to those who were rude, but hey, he could give you an infodumping of all the monsters in The Witcher without even doing research. I heard him do it once and, man, that guy was crazy" and Shang Qinghua continues talking while, as if by omen, Shen Qingqiu begins to feel a strange sensation of vertigo. "He was kind of cute, well, not exactly my fully type, he was very tall but lacked many muscles, but he had the biggest and prettiest resting bitch face I've ever seen on anyone even my king. He always wore all those fancy clothes that cost the same as my apartment rent, those silver accessories, rings, necklaces, bracelets... His hair was also kind of long, now that I think about it, and when he wore it down it was, god, a delight. I liked him a little. He was my college crush." and Shang Qinghua shrugs, laughing. His cheeks are red and Shen Qingqiu feels that his own ears are red, too. "Cucumber bro, it's actually a bit silly. I remember this boy's last name was also Shen."

That... That's the last straw.

"You-!" and Shen Qingqiu finds himself hitting him with the fan before he realizes it. "How-? What the hell!?"

"Ow, ow, OUCH, Cucumber bro!! What's going on?!"

Shen Qingqiu feels his face burning. His hands tremble over the fan. What the fuck!?

"... Bro?!"

"That classmate of yours" Shen Qingqiu hisses, just to confirm "His name was Shen Yuan?"

Shang Qinghua blinks, confused, recalling his thoughts. Suddenly, his entire face lights up with a wide smile.

"Oh, I forgot!! Yes, that was it!!" and his gaze becomes mischievous. "You met him, too?! He was a delicious little thing, honestly, a nice round butt, he... OUCH-"

"He was me" Shen Qingqiu hisses, opening his fan and hiding behind it. He wrinkles his nose in disgust. Of all the people in the world...!

Shang Qinghua gasps, looking like he was given some vital information. His face, contrary to what Shen Qingqiu expected, does not change into horror, but into mockery.

"Oh, bro" and starts laughing out loud "BRO"

"Damn fourth-rate author, what the hell is wrong with you!!!"

"Bro, BRO, I created a part of my husband based on you!! And you're married to my son self-inserted in a power fantasy!! It's like we're indirectly married!!"

"Fuck you!!"

"Ohh, how cute!! Do you want to jump to the honeymoon already?!"

"Get away!!"

Shen Qingqiu doesn't visit Shang Qinghua again for over a month. However, he does spend some time talking about monsters with Mobei-jun while his husband takes care of the demon court (in the time he would usually use to gossip and fool around with Shang Qinghua), it's just his thing.

[wizardysseus]

On Friday, the president signed yet another Executive Order, this time directly targeting funds allocated to libraries and museums nationwide. The Institute of Museum and Library Services (IMLS) is a federal agency that distributes fund approved by Congress to state libraries, as well as library, museum, and archival grant programs. IMLS is the only federal agency that provides funds to libraries. The Executive Order states that the functions of the IMLS have to be reduced to “statutory functions” and that in places that are not statutory, expenses must be cut as much as possible. [...] The department has seven days to report back, meaning that as soon as this Friday, March 21, 2025, public libraries–including school and academic libraries–as well as public museums could see their budgets demolished.

Actionable items from the article:

Sign the petition at EveryLibrary to stop Trump’s Executive Order seeking to gut the IMLS then share it with your networks.

Write a letter to each of your Senators and to your Representative at the federal level. You can find your Senators here and your Representative here. All you need to say in this letter is that you, a resident of their district, demand they speak up and defend the budget of IMLS. Include a short statement of where and how you value the library, as well as its importance in your community. This can be as short as “I use the library to find trusted sources of information, and every time I am in there, the public computers are being used by a variety of community members doing everything from applying for jobs to writing school papers. Cutting the funds for libraries will further harm those who lack stable internet, who cannot afford a home library, and who seek the opportunities to engage in programming, learning, enrichment, and entertainment in their own community. Public libraries help strengthen reading and critical thinking skills for all ages.” In those letters, consider noting that the return on investment on libraries is astronomical. You can use data from EveryLibrary.

Call the offices of each of your Senators and Representatives in Congress. Yes, they’ll be busy. Yes, the voice mails will be full. KEEP CALLING. Get your name on the record against IMLS cuts. Do this in addition to writing a letter. If making a call creates anxiety, use a tool like 5 Calls to create a script you can read when you reach a person or voice mail.

Though your state-level representatives will not have the power to impact what happens with IMLS, this is your time to reach out to each of your state representatives to emphasize the importance of your state’s public libraries. Note that in light of potential cuts from the federal government, you advocate for stronger laws protecting libraries and library workers, as well as stronger funding models for these institutions.

Show up at your next public library meeting, either in person at a board meeting or via an email or letter, and tell the library how much it means to you. In an era where information that is not written down and documented simply doesn’t exist, nothing is more crucial than having your name attached to some words about the importance of your public library. This does not need to be genius work–tell the library how you use their services and how much they mean to you as a taxpayer.

Tell everyone you know what is at stake. If you’ve not been speaking up for public institutions over the last several years, despite the red flags and warnings that have been building and building, it is not too late to begin now. EveryLibrary’s primer and petition is an excellent resource to give folks who may be unaware of what’s going on–or who want just the most important information.

[transmutationisms]

forgive me if I'm being obtuse, but isn't every medical diagnosis an artifact of human taxonomic schemes? I know I'm not treading new ground here and that diseases/medical conditions aren't like, drawn from thin air in the way a lot of psychiatric conditions are i suppose it just confuses me a bit

no, & this is ancillary in some ways to what i'm actually criticising about psychiatry. it's true there are non-psychiatric medical diagnoses that work analogously to psychiatric ones: think ME/CFS, hEDS, fibromyalgia, most things that have 'idiopathic' in the name. these are names given to clusters of symptoms, like the way that psychiatric labels are just names for a certain set of behaviours. we don't know what causes these issues, though people have various theories and there is (a varying amount of) research ongoing that aims to find the etiologies.

however, that's not the case for all non-psychiatric diagnoses. think about a viral or bacterial infection, a torn ACL, or Down syndrome. these are diagnoses that do refer to specific infectious agents, anatomical problems, genetic variants, and so forth. that doesn't mean the diagnosis is always easy to make, or that it's always made correctly, but it does mean that when you are diagnosed with one of these problems, a specific cause is being identified (& sometimes they might even be right). it's not just a convenient shorthand name for a group of symptoms, even though of course, most things that are diagnosed are done so because they cause and are associated with symptoms. (most but not all lol.)

psychiatry is distinct as a discipline in that all of its diagnoses function the first way i described. they are not referring to disease entities or processes; there is no credible hypothesis for a biological etiology. why? fundamentally, because the psychiatric diagnoses generally exist to pathologise socially unwanted behaviour: the taxonomy is a reflection of a political agenda and the priorities of clinicians. it's not even really an adequate framework for grouping patients together, because you get placed in a category based only on, again, external manifestations (behaviours). who says any two people who hallucinate or cut themselves are doing it for the exact same reasons? well, no one, because again, even getting the same psych diagnosis doesn't indicate anything about an actual etiology or underlying biological process or anything. there is no referent; the psychiatric diagnosis is only defined heuristically and circularly.

many people are confused by this because, in both popular and professional discourse, psychiatric diagnoses are consistently spoken about as though they DO refer to an underlying discoverable disease or disease process. despite hundreds of years of looking for such things, psychiatrists are yet to find any, and if they did, the condition in question would be reassigned to the relevant medical specialty, because psychiatrists also cannot treat infectious agents, anatomical problems, harmful genetic variants, and so on. (when i worked as a bibliographer we used to have extremely funny arguments over whether materials pertaining to the psychiatric search for biological disease processes should be categorised under psychiatry, neuroscience, medicine general, philosophy of medicine, 'science and society,' or just 'controversies and disputes' with no real subject label.)

to be clear, when i say psychiatric diagnoses aren't referring to known or discoverable disease processes, that's not a moral indictment. it's not an inherently bad diagnostic process, provided the patient understands that is what the process actually is. sometimes we just don't know yet what we're dealing with; sometimes a heuristic diagnostic label is just a way of billing insurance for a treatment that we know helps some similar patients, even if we don't know why.

however, with psychiatric diagnoses, evidence for such efficacy is widely lacking and often even negative; this is fundamentally because psychiatric diagnoses are not formulated on the basis of patient needs but on the basis of employer and state needs to cultivate a productive workforce and by corollary enforce a notion of mental 'normality.' all medicine under capitalism has a biopolitical remit; psychiatry has only a biopolitical remit. it has never at any point succeeded in making diagnoses that refer to demonstrable disease processes, because that's definitionally not even under its purview. these diagnoses have never been satisfactorily shown to be related to any disease process—and why should we expect that? historically, that's not what they exist for; it's not the problem they were invented to solve. they are social technologies; they're not illnesses.

[trapped-inadystopianovel]

Ab and Aza: *says Cicely name*

Galib: *doesn't think it's important to know her name*

Sumayl: *too drunk to remember her name*

Both: "who's Cicely?"

[shanastoryteller]

okay now that i've had some coffee, let's chat

specifically, about how you act on the internet is a blueprint on how other people will treat you and how this intersects with the functionality of anon asks

if you've followed me for any significant amount of time, none of this will be anything i haven't said before, or i think be at all surprising to the rest of you, but i guess it bears repeating

so let's repeat: how you act on the internet is a guidebook on how other people will interact with you

like invites like. if you talk about a topic, you're going to get more commentary on that topic. this is because you're demonstrating that this topic is something you're comfortable talking about because you are talking about it

if you respond one way to something, people are going to reasonably assume you will respond the same way to them if they send you something similar. if someone asks for advice and you give it, people are going to think you're comfortable giving out advice and that asking for advice is an appropriate way to interact with you. if someone asks for information and resources and you provide them, people are going to think it's appropriate and acceptable to ask you for information and resources

i've seen this come up with other people before, where they do one thing and get frustrated and upset when that generates more of that thing. but people are just following your lead

now, anon asks

the function of anon asks is that the only way to reply to them is to respond to them publicly. you cannot privately reply to an anon

this means that every anon ask answered tells people how to interact with you. it is not and cannot be treated the same as a 1 on 1 conversation. it doesn't matter if that's not intention or what the anon wants. it's the reality of the situation

i don't answer non-anon asks publicly, with rare exceptions like it's funny or i think my answer to them would be interesting to others and non-upsetting for the askee for me to share (there are times i've given things like writing advice or commentary that i've thought might be interesting to the rest of you, but the askee had something in their original ask that i though they potentially wouldn't appreciate being immortalized on my blog)

if there's ever anything that someone doesn't want me to answer publicly no matter what, they can ensure this by just including it in their ask. even if i was inclined to be a hypocrite and ignore how people want to be interacted with (i am not) i am obviously not going to post it publicly if you ask me not to because then everyone would see me do that and think, rightfully, that i'm a huge jerk

when someone is rude or critical of me on anon, they're putting me in an unfair position. i can either not answer them or i have to turn their answer into a public performance, consumable by everyone. there is no other option

the vast majority of people use anon to say something kind or neutral where my public and private response would be basically identical and that's not what this is about. if i had an issue with anon asks in general, i wouldn't have them on

by sending criticism on anon, they're protecting themselves by not having any of their opinions or thoughts associated with them. nothing they say is connected to them and they're free of any consequences of their actions. in contrast, if i respond, my only option is to respond publicly. which means not only is my response attached to me and my name, but it has to be publicly consumable, i have to open myself up to the thoughts and commentary of everyone else if i'm going to reply

that means, before we get into anything the anon is saying, they're demonstrating both that they're a coward and they don't care about my comfort or my privacy - something they obviously highly prioritize for themselves

if that's the premise, why would i take kindly to anything they have to say after that, no matter what it is?

additionally, if i respond kindly and measured to these types of asks, that tells other people that it's an acceptable way to interact with me

it is not

if this ask had been sent off anon, my response would have been: "glad you enjoyed the story. feel free to toss any typos you notice into a comment (easiest way for me to keep track) and i'll correct them when i have a chance"

when it's just me talking to another person, i can choose to ignore or gloss over any awkwardness or mild rudeness because it's not going to come back to bite me. it's not a performance or a guidebook on how others will treat me. it's just you and me talking

but because it's anon, i have to keep in mind that i'm not just talking to them - i'm talking to everyone else too. so i have to establish that: i'm not interested in a beta, but am more than happy to correct typos; i don't care to hear about about how my typos personally upset you; and, in this case, that this is the type of message i don't want to receive on anon

because if i don't make it clear what i don't want, i'm going to receive more of it. that's simply a neutral fact of how people and the internet work

the more considerate you are of me, the more considerate of you i'm going to be in return

tldr: if you want a response meant just for you, you have to ask in a way that i can respond only to you. which isn't an anon ask. them's the breaks

[catt-nuevenor]

A Brief Guide on Uploading ChoiceScript Demos to Itch.io

Since Dashingdon is shutting down, and there will be a lot of folks wanting to host their ChoiceScript demos elsewhere, I thought it'd be a good idea to provide a brief guide on how to do so for itch.io.

This is for Windows in the folder actions, but it shouldn't be too difficult for folks to translate for Mac. This also assumes you haven't changed any of the files within your game folder other than those found under 'scenes'.

Within your game folder, locate the 'web' subfolder, right click it and select 'Send to' then 'Compressed (zipped) folder. Name your newly compressed file something sensible, and I recommend moving it to a new folder outside of your game files, just to keep everything neat and tidy.

2. Assuming you already have an itch.io account, navigate to your dashboard, and click the 'Create New Project' button.

3. Name your project as you like, and under 'Kind of project', select the 'HTML' option.

4. Set the 'Pricing' to 'No Payments', you cannot use ChoiceScript for profit unless it is with the Choice of Games or Hosted Games publishing labels. No one wants to get in trouble unnecessarily here.

5. In the Uploads section, upload your newly zipped file we made in step one. After it's finished uploading, you'll be given one drop down and two tick boxes. You need to tick the 'This file will be played in the browser' option.

6. I've found so far that 'Viewport dimensions' work quite well for desktop at 1080 x 640. Either use these numbers or experiment and find what works best for you.

7. You must tick the 'Enable scrollbars' option for your game to display properly, otherwise options, text and buttons can be clipped off the bottom of the viewport.

8. Continue filling out the rest of the form, or skip it for now and scroll all the way to the bottom to the 'Visibility & access' section. Here make sure you have 'Draft' selected. This prevents others from finding your game until you're ready, and I always recommend play testing things before you make your work public.

9. Finally, hit the 'Save' button, then go and have a look at your creation by hitting the 'View page' link. And there you go! When you're ready for public release, just change the option in section 8 to 'Public'.

---

A few things to bear in mind about hosting on itch.io:

There isn't currently any way for your readers to save their game. I'm sure someone could write in a plugin similar to Dashingdon's at some point, but as for right now, this isn't available. See addition/edit below.

Make sure you properly tag your game with the 'choicescript' and 'interactive-fiction' tags. There are an awful lot of games on itch.io and it's easy to get lost in the crowd. Make sure folks can find you by having the right tags.

I hope this brief guide was useful to folks.

Best of luck to you with your writing!

---

Addition/Edit:

Thanks to @hpowellsmith for bringing this to my attention. You can add save functionality to your game by using this addon:

The ChoiceScript Save Plugin

Just tried it out on my own game and it works perfectly.

Rather than run through the addon author's own tutorial here, I'll just forward you to the Readme on their Github page.

One small note I would add is when it asks you to make the two small additions to your index file, make sure you right click the file and open it with your coding program, don't double-click it as this will just open it in an internet browser, and it won't give you the access to what you need to change.

[hyomaslut]

──★ ˙🌟 ̟ !! gold star redemption program. 18+!

☆⌒(ゝ。∂).ᐟ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ ʙʟᴜᴇ ʟᴏᴄᴋ's ғᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇʀ

✿ ─ synopsis: you are the new manager for team blue lock and you have a great idea to make the players get along better. after all, positive reinforcement worked really well on dogs, why not men? ✿ ─ characters: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, shidou ryusei, itoshi rin, chigiri hyoma + kunigami rensuke referenced ✿ ─ cw: smut, fem!reader, she/her pronouns used, aged-up!characters(18+), pet names, kissing, penetrative sex, oral receiving/giving, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, overstimulation, rough sex, deepthroating/face-fucking, non-exclusive relationships, lots of jealousy, pda, use of foul language, suggestive themes, shidou is an asshole, rin threatens murder, somewhat proofread ✿ ─ notes: okay so every is going to ignore the logistics and mental gymnastics done to put all these guys on the same team and have any of this go on, right? cool. this work was requested by @anastasiablossomlove pls enjoy!

managing team blue lock was no task for a person of average conviction. anyone with less of a spine would be easily trampled and consumed by the members, all with big personalities and even bigger egos. you took to the role with exceptional organizational skills and a positive attitude that didn’t falter, even under the cold glares of the less compliant men of the team (cough cough itoshi rin cough cough barou shouei). before the end of your first week you had drafted up detailed and individualized meal plans, unique to each of them. by the second you had worked with the coach to create special training regimes that works towards their fitness goals while providing challenge and variety. right under their noses you dug your pretty fingers into every part of team blue lock, finding every issue and soothing every conflict, turning a group of somewhat wild animals into a well functioning machine with you at its core.

and not a detail slipped your eye. you could always tell when kunigami had pushed himself too hard in the gym by the stiffness in his shoulders. honestly you doubt you would’ve been able to convince him to let you help him if he wasn’t just as sore as you predicted. but the minute your palms were pressing into his back he was groaning in relief, “you’re an angel” grumbled under his breath. he’s a bit less embarrassed the next time around, blushing while asking you to fix him like you did last time.

you quickly took responsibility for doing chigiri’s hair before every practice and game. after seeing it fall out of its style and flap wildly in his face whenever he reached top speed on the field, you decided he needed something a little more reliable to keep it out the way so his eyes could stay on the ball. though when his hair was this soft, who could blame you for taking a bit longer than necessary, brushing through the knots and gently scratching at his scalp. plus, he didn’t seem to mind all that much, always red faced and all smiles, leaning into your touch. the thank you kiss he plants on your cheek lingers long enough to leave a matching blush on your face as a token of his appreciation.

being the backbone of their system earned you respect, acknowledgement, even affection from the overly friendly members of the team (cough cough bachira meguru cough cough shidou ryusei). no one could deny the benefits of having you around, always offering all kinds of helpful advice and showed not a shred of judgment when listening to their problems. and you weren’t exactly ignorant to the fact that your constant support was causing some of your new friends to become especially attached to you. maybe to someone else it would be a bigger concern, but in your eyes, this was only another opportunity to do more for your team.

that’s why you implemented the gold star redemption program to help motivate them. it was quite simple to follow, you had a chart with all of their names along with cute, slightly wonky doodles of them, and a list of ways to earn gold stars. from goals and assists to being on good behavior, whatever way they earn their stars, team members can then cash them in for certain prizes from you. the list had looked something like this…

2 ☆ = snack or drink of your choice 4 ☆ = a home cooked meal 5 ☆ = a kiss <3 7 ☆ = a massage <33 10 ☆ = private training session <333

the objective was to give incentives towards cooperation. not to mention, it’s always good to strengthen bonds with your team members. it seems, however, that you underestimated how much of your time this new system would take up. or maybe you just overestimated how easy it would be to keep up with the greedy desires of so many egoists at once.

ever since your arrival, anyone with eyes could see that isagi yoichi carried a torch for you. you let him talk your ear off for hours about tactics and players, never tired of his company or too busy for his rambles. it gets his heart thumping obnoxiously loud in his chest. so yoichi makes it his objective to dote on you as much as possible to try to make up for all the time you spend fussing over everybody else. always staying after practice to help you or walking you home. so when you start handing out stars for that kind of stuff, isagi is already making a steady income. he considers himself a gentleman, so at first he spends his stars on meals. and he’s more than happy to eat your cooking, stirring up all kinds of wifey fantasies in his head and enjoying his lunches with you. but at night, when he’s lying in bed, the big ticket item at the bottom of the prize board haunts him. and when he can’t take it anymore, he slips into your tiny little office that you share with the coach, a self-satisfied smile on his face when he lets you know that he just finished the stat sheets you asked him to fill out, earning him his tenth gold star. enough for one private training session.

in all the times you thought about sex with isagi, you’re not sure you ever pictured it to be like this. bent over your own desk, tennis skirt bunched up around your waist, your star player too eager to sink into your pussy to even push down your underwear. they stayed tugged to the side, thoroughly soaked from the way his hips meet yours in sloppy desperate thrusts. “i knew i needed to fuck you when i saw this skirt,” he confesses, eyes fixed to the point where you connect, mesmerized by the way his cock disappears inside you, “you’ve been tempting me all day, so be a good girl and take my cock, okay?” before you can respond he hooks a finger into the elastic of your panties to let it snap back against your skin, drawing a small yelp from you. he changs the angle to fuck you harder, deeper. you wonder if this could be the same sweet yoichi that carries your things and bashfully tells you your outfit looks good.

apparently that yoichi doesn’t exist once he’s balls deep inside you, all that’s left is the side of him you’ve only caught glimpses of when he’s dominating his opponents on the field. and if you thought that it was a chance encounter, you’re sorely mistaken as week after week isagi makes sure he earns his ten stars and you get to know just how mean he can be. his grip is always tight around your hair, whether it’s pulling and steering you into the position he wants or guiding your head down to take more of his dick. god forbid he asks you nicely for something like he always does when you’re not ‘training’. one time you even had the gall to suggest the idea to him and lived to regret it as now if you want anything from him, isagi is only accepting the most convincing of your begs. “c'mon princess, mind your manners, if you wanna cum then you’re gonna have to ask really nicely.” and no teary eyed puppy dog look will get you what you want, even when he makes getting your words out so difficult. truthfully, he never intends to be so hard on you, but having you crying and begging for his cock is the only way to soothe the devil on his shoulder that tries to tell him to take you for himself. in the aftermath, you start to recognize your yoichi again, sheepish in his apologies for how rough he was with you, kissing away the tears that run down your face. he’s lucky you’re too fucked out to charge him for them.

there’s not a world where you offer bachira meguru sexual favors in exchange for playing soccer and he says no. he was already gonna do that anyway, and now not only does he get to make even more of a game out of it, but his reward for winning is the cute little manager he’s had his eyes on for far too long? consider him sold. bachira knows it would be most fun for him to save up and have sex with you as soon as possible, but all of a sudden he has five and he’s itching for a kiss. one he decides to give you right before practice starts… in front of the whole team. but can you blame him? he’s already been waiting forever to feel those pretty glossed lips on his, you couldn’t really expect him to make it through the next few hours when he’s so close to getting what he wants. and you could maybe understand that, but was it really necessary to go for a full open-mouthed wet almost make out that left you panting when everyone’s eyes were already on you? you suspect not, but bachira doubles down, telling you it was of upmost importance that he got it in, else he wouldn’t be able to focus. he neglects to tell you that he overheard reo in the locker room talking about what he was gonna do now that he had five stars. shidou already made it very clear that he would be first to ten, so bachira had to be crafty in order to secure at least one first from you.

meguru was certainly one of the more needy players, right under nagi that required some form of encouragement every step of the way to get anything done. bachira usually does what you tell him to, but not without whining about deserving a prize for being good. quite frankly, you dread having to ask anything of him, because he is determined to be fully compensated for even the smallest of requests. even a task as easy as grabbing something on a high shelf was met with a cheeky smirk and a request for a kiss. and don’t think he’ll budge either, holding the item hostage if he thinks he can squeeze two out of you. it didn’t make it any easier that bachira didn’t possess a shy bone in his whole body, openly showering you in affection when the others were around, holding your hand and nuzzling his face into your collar. it was enough to make even a professional like you blush. he acted as if he was oblivious to the jealous stares of his friends, but the smug cat-like smirk he sends them and the way he only holds you tighter when you try to shyly brush him off gives him away. it may come as a surprise considering his reputation for being a bit delusional, but bachira tries to root himself in reality for once. he frequently reminds himself of the nature of your relationship and tries his best not let his imagination run wild with anything that would be beyond the boundaries you’ve clearly set. things like picturing himself taking you on dates, coming home to you at night, introducing you to his mom. they were all too dangerous to let his mind settle on them for too long.

and what better distraction than burying his face between your thighs. it’s hard to think of much when he hasn’t bothered to stop lapping at your cunt long enough to take a breath in a couple minutes. suffocating was the least of his concerns when the clench around his fingers lets him know your orgasm is just around the corner. meguru swears that your pathetic little whimpers and the slick dripping down his chin are like a straight hit of dopamine to his brain and he’s at real risk of addiction at this point. lidded amber eyes travel up to watch your expression twist into one of pleasure as you gasp out his name. now that catches his interest. when your vision clears and your brain is functioning again after that intense high, you search for his comfort as if you had done any of the hard work. but all you’re met with is that signature wild look that he gets when he brushing past the enemy team’s defense straight towards his goal. it’s your only warning that he’s far from tired and even farther from sated. “if i can keep going, so can you baby. i know you have more for me. jus’ need t’see you make that face one more time.” you have no room to protest, his tongue already finding your clit and working towards bringing you to the edge once again. by your fourth time cumming, you’re sobbing for a break and debating whether you should charge him four times over or give him a star for each one.

someone who was on board with your system from the second that you explained how it worked, was shidou ryusei. what better way to celebrate another one of his blood pumping, heart stopping performances than racing to the locker room to blow a load in his favorite girl while his teammates debrief with the coach? to him it was simple, you fuck him, you feed him, you take care of him, you spend time with him. shidou is, by all of his definitions, dating you. while some might be turned off by the idea of dating someone who isn’t offering exclusivity, he didn’t see it as much of an obstacle. not when he spent star stickers like a gambler on a slot machine, having you multiple times a week if the economy allowed it. and if he’s short a few, no worries, ryusei is quite the negotiator. it starts one week when he’s only missing a star or two, promising he’ll pay back the difference, you know he’s a good customer. it’s probably not a good idea to give in to him though, as the next time he wants a private training session, he’ll insist they’re only nine stars for him. he has made all kinds of fake coupons from 50% Off! to Buy One Get One Free! to even a homemade punch card in his own terrible handwriting. shidou was the first one to ever get a star taken away when he tried to give you an arby’s gift card in exchange for a blowjob. he didn’t try that tactic again.

the worst is when he tries to haggle in the middle of sex. your legs are thrown over his shoulders and his tip is kissing your cervix when he chooses to whine about not being able to kiss you because he has no stars left. he worked too hard to get good star credit, he can’t go into star debt!! “ and with his lips just hovering over yours, his hot breath fanning across your face, how could you say no? in a moment of weakness, you have unfortunately given an inch to shidou, infamous mile taker, and now it’s hard to get him to pay for any of his kisses, especially while he’s fucking you. you thank god that at the very least no one knows he’s been getting them for free… if only shidou would allow your life to be that easy. even worse than giving him an inch, you expected shidou to keep a secret. and you thought his big mouth was something you liked about him. until he’s using it to brag to everyone that he’s your favorite, practically your boyfriend, all because you let him get away with a smooch here and there. let’s just say you had to give out a lot of free kisses to smooth over the problem his bragging habits created.

honestly ryusei was starting to cause a lot of confusion outside of the team with his antics. what with his always hanging off your arm, giving you as much affection as you’d tolerate, calling you sweet nicknames. the people in your life were actually starting to believe you two were dating. not that shidou does anything to discourage such rumors, only grinning and agreeing every time someone mistakes you as a couple. hell, he was starting to get you confused, saying things during your training sessions that certainly didn’t fit the transactional nature of the act. “holy shit you’re so tight- love this pussy, l-love you so much. say my name. c’mon baby, say you love me and i’ll make you feel so fucking good.” and only because ryusei always makes good on his promises do you allow yourself another moment of weakness.

itoshi rin didn’t have much interest or faith in you upon first introduction. he sized you up as some nobody doing this whole manager thing as a fun extracurricular, so as long as you stayed out of his way he didn’t care what you did. with his luck, he shouldn’t be surprised that you were immediately in his way, extremely often, rambling to him about ideas and strategies that he had no intention on listening to. although even he could admit, he understood why the others were so easily charmed by you. he was wrong about how seriously you took your job. not that it changed anything. at least that’s what rin tells himself, but in reality your relentless efforts and endless dedication to supporting all of them was something that spoke to him, made him a bit soft for you. it didn’t help that you were his type in every sense of the word, your attractiveness doing nothing but make feigning indifference a lot harder for rin. your seemingly endless patience didn’t help either. you always responded in kind to all of rin’s harsh words and cold stares, never let his sour attitude deter your subtle acts of service like getting grass stains out of his uniform and making sure he stays unbothered during his yoga. against his will, he was slowly warming up to you, but you were still caught off guard when rin started cashing in his stars, even if it was just a meal. he had lots of them sitting idle on the chart waiting to be used, so you supposed it was only natural for him to get some free food out of it. but you were even more taken aback when a couple days later he requested a massage from you with insistence that he only asks because he’s been extremely tense as of late. which wasn’t entirely untrue. rin had been very tense. just not from anything soccer related like he’d like you to believe. he was tense from the stress of his budding feelings for you combined with the dread of knowing he probably will never have you all to himself. at least not with this stupid reward system in place.

he despises it. he absolutely hates going about his day knowing there are other guys, his shithead teammates, that are getting your time, attention, and affection for the price of a couple of stupid fucking stickers. he misses the days when shidou’s incessant bragging about how many times he was able to make you cum or bachira’s unnecessary details of what your pussy tastes like didn’t bother him. now his blood boils to hear them talk about you like that. that kind of anger makes it clear to him that being your friend was simply not an option anymore. which is how he settled on getting a massage from you. he would satisfy this overwhelming craving he has for you and go back to normal and be able to focus solely on becoming best in the world again without thoughts of you plaguing his mind. that was his hope going into it, but feeling your warm touch on his bare back, melting away years of untreated knots and neglected aches in his body, he could almost blush at the intimacy he feels. especially when that foreign kindness he loves so much is on display as you reassure him that there’s nothing to be embarrassed about and that you’re proud he finally put his pride aside long enough to let you help him. you’ve got him, hook, line, and sinker now. no use in struggling so hard, he supposes, as some part of him knows he’s doomed to fall sooner or later. perhaps it’s time to surrender. he fought a good fight, but his greed for you was candidly too tough of an opponent.

and to rin, surrender looked like asking you when’s the soonest he could book a private training session. you don’t think you could look any more shocked. rin had a quick turn around from someone you doubted even liked you, to someone reserving as much of your time as his stars could buy. the more often he was with you, the less time you spent giving those lukewarm brats the treatment he wants reserved for him. and he wishes he gave in a lot sooner when he feels the wet heat of your mouth around his cock for the first time. how fast he would’ve folded if he knew how pretty you would look on your knees for him. rin tried to be gentle and let you set the pace, but between hissing out curses and barely biting back moans, that same greed to get more from you has his hand twisting itself in your hair and pushing down on the back of your head. he couldn’t help it. and it was so worth it to watch you choke and sputter around his length but never pull away. he knew you weren’t a quitter. “shit, feels good… don’t stop,” he all but gasps, hips instinctively jumping to reach further down your throat, grip tightening when you try to come up for air. after a long moment of breathing through your nose you relax enough to let him ease himself the rest of the way in. rin sighs in relief when your nose finally presses against his pelvis. the way you look up at him starry-eyed and full of adoration made his chest feel heavy with desire to be the only one you ever look at. it drives him crazy that any guy on the team can see you like this, and that heartache has rin fucking your face to forget it. “fuckkk. don’t look away, eyes on me, g’nna cum in that pretty mouth.”

you couldn’t deny that your new attempt at encouraging the team had its kinks. while overall the amount of arguments that broke out between players lessened to keep on good star-earning behavior, you could tell that it came with its own set of tension creating problems. you also couldn’t deny that being pulled in every direction by men vying for your attention was both very time consuming and extremely gratifying, but you think you manage it well. save for when they were already pumped up with adrenaline from a game, that is when real issues arise. especially when a player from the enemy team thinks it’s a good idea to try and hit on the cute little lady holding the clipboard. fatal mistake.

it starts with your favorite pot stirrer, bachira, calling out from his position, making everyone else on the team aware of the situation. “no shot dude, she don’t want you! focus on losing!” you’re confident you can diffuse whatever is about to go down before you notice rin leaving the ball alone in centerfield to beeline straight towards you. threats are flying from his lips on approach, quick to get in the guy’s face, planting his hands on his shoulders to shove him back. “what the fuck do you think you’re doing? i’ll kill you if you don’t get the fuck away from her.” you think maybe you have a shot of getting rin under control if you just- your eyes widen in horror as a flash moves in from your peripheral. there are no words, just shidou drop kicking this poor stranger at top speed. you cringe as you watch shidou knocks this guy off his feet, cleats first, taking rin down with him. what a way to earn a red card.

this was a fun project and request tysm!!! i just went about it in the interpretation i found most interesting, i really hope it was to your liking!!!

© 2023 hyomaslut. please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content onto any other sites.

[beloveds-embrace]

Noona i NEED to yap about this thought I had about the angst Dukedom au so my brain worms will let me sleep. I Imagine a people's princess duchess who spends time with others to fill in for the lack of emotional connection between her and John and people just do not understand why she is out of the house so much. Tea with the ladies? She's there. Charity event for struggling orphans? Duchess is there to help! Church in the middle of the afternoon on a random day? She's in the pew. The house is taken care of, her parties are enjoyable, but why is she gone so often? Duchess just gives a pained smile and says that her husband does not mind her being gone because neither the staff nor him want her there. Why ask her husband for love when he clearly just needed someone to run the duchy?

Hope your sleep went well <3 i nees these men to suffer tbh

The house runs itself.

At least, that is what you tell yourself. The schedules are in place, the staff well-trained, the estate thriving. You have done your duty as Duchess of Price, managing affairs with grace, ensuring that the duchy’s name remains untarnished, that the books are balanced, and the tenants are provided for. You have even done more than what was expected, expanding the duchy’s charitable reach, establishing new programs for the less fortunate, and ensuring the nobility sees the Price name attached to every act of generosity.

And yet, despite all your efforts, there is no warmth in your home.

The staff keep their distance. There are no hushed greetings in the morning, no inquiry into your health when you sit at the long dining table, staring at your untouched, cold meals that are a stark contrast to the others’ steaming dishes.

They serve you as required, but do not linger. They do not ask if you would like another cup of tea, if your shawl is warm enough, if the flowers in your room are to your liking. You don’t need them to do it, but- it’s the emphasized loneliness that hurts the most.

John is no different.

You see him at dinners, always seated across from you, his gaze never lingering, his words few and functional. He speaks to Kyle more than he speaks to you. He shares glances with Simon that you have never been privy to, and when Johnny appears with a dish in hand, John’s expression softens in a way it never does for you.

Meanwhile, you are… tolerated.

And so, you leave.

Your absence from the manor goes unnoticed at first.

The city welcomes you in ways your home never has. Tea with the noble ladies? You never miss an afternoon, sipping floral blends as you listen to idle gossip, smiling where appropriate. A charity event for struggling orphans? You are the first to arrive, personally distributing warm coats and new shoes to children who look at you with something you rarely receive- gratitude.

Church in the middle of the afternoon? You kneel in silent prayer, hands clasped, seeking answers from a God who offers none. And yet the statues and pews are still not as cold towards you as your own husband.

“Duchess, you do so much,” Lady Bethany remarks one afternoon over luncheon, her fan flicking open with an appreciative snap. She’s a pretty thing, recently wed and already draped in the pretty glow of pregnancy. “I swear, I see you more than your own husband must.”

You laugh softly, demure and mindful. “The duchy has many responsibilities.”

“And yet you make time for everything but your home?” Another lady muses, curiosity laced in her tone.

You lower your gaze to your plate, the question hanging in the air. You have learned to navigate this tightrope of expectations, of unspoken truths wrapped in silk and civility.

With a practiced, pained smile, you say: “My husband does not mind my absence.”

You let the words settle before adding, voice barely above a whisper, “Neither he nor the staff particularly miss me.”

The silence that follows is thick.

Lady Bethany’s fan stills, her eyes softening towards you. Another woman fidgets with her gloves. No one speaks, and you take a sip of your tea, the bitterness sharp on your tongue.

Why ask for love when your husband only needed someone to run the duchy?

And the house remains indifferent to your absence- at first.

The staff continue their duties as usual, the butlers maintaining the schedule, the maids ensuring the rooms remain pristine. No one spares a thought for why you are always gone, only that it makes their jobs easier.

Until, one evening, Kyle pauses in the study, glancing at the untouched tea left on a side table. The Duchess usually ensures the staff are well taken care of, he realizes. Who had reminded them today?

No one.

In the kitchens, Johnny frowns when he notices the ledger left open, the list of requested ingredients unusually long. You had always been meticulous, approving the finest quality for the household, ensuring every item was fresh and of the best stock. The kitchen had run smoothly for months, never wanting for anything.

Now, it was as if no one had noticed the difference until the fruits arrived bruised and the meat not quite up to the usual standard.

Simon notices, too. The events you planned, the invitations you managed, the way you always ensured John’s name was spoken with admiration at every gathering- without you, the social scene seemed… quieter. The duchy’s presence less prominent.

And John notices most of all.

At first, he does not think much of it. His wife was always attending some function or another. That was her role, wasn’t it? To manage the estate, to see to the duchy’s reputation?

But then, he starts seeing the effects of your absence the longer you continue to keep to the people and not the duchy.

The reports come in slower. The meetings with city officials, once neatly arranged for his convenience, are now scattered, delayed. The letters from the nobility are fewer, the invitations sparser. The charitable events- ones that bore the Price name- have dwindled in number.

And the house itself… feels empty.

John returns from meetings to silence. Dinners are quiet, even when the others join him. There is no soft rustling of skirts as you pass through the halls, no gentle murmur of your voice as you speak to the staff.

One evening, he enters his study to find a stack of correspondence on his desk- letters you had handled, decisions you had made.

You had been doing so much.

Too much.

And no one had noticed.

When he finally seeks you out, it is not in your chambers.

John finds you in the drawing room, seated by the window, your hands resting idly in your lap. Your gaze is distant, unfocused, the usual light in your eyes dimmed. Winter was drawing nearer, and so gatherings dwindled in number and as a result, you had to spend more time in this cold, unfeeling house.

For the first time in months, he hesitates.

“…You’ve been busy.” He says at last.

You turn your head slightly, but you do not smile. Or at least, put no effort in making your smile appear genuine. “As have you, my lord.”

He swallows, uncertain. “You have done a fine job with the duchy, wife. The duchy is in good standing.”

You inhale, waiting for the unspoken ‘but.’

“But…” He hesitates. “Some matters are not quite as well-managed as before.”

Your lips curl in a faint, humorless smile. “Did it take you long to notice?”

John exhales slowly. He had not noticed, not until things started slipping. But now, looking at you- at the exhaustion in your frame, the emptiness in your eyes- he realizes you had been holding up far more than he had ever given you credit for.

“… You aren’t here anymore much.” His voice is quiet now, almost careful. As if he is speaking to an animal that will bite him if he misspeaks.

You laugh softly, but there is no joy in it. “Would you want to spend your days in a house where you are not wanted? That aside, I assumed you would prefer not to see me at all.

“I never said you weren’t wanted. Nor have I told you I’d prefer it if you were away.”

“You didn’t need to.”

The realization strikes down much like a hammer, and all that’s left in its wake is silence.

John had always assumed you knew- knew that your marriage was one of convenience, that his affections lay elsewhere, that you were never meant to be part of the life he had built with his men.

But looking at you now, he realizes he had mistaken your silence for understanding. Had mistaken your silence for acceptance, for agreement that you were complete fine with this cruel treatmeant.

He had thought you accepted it, that you preferred the distance.

But had you?

Or had you simply endured it because… there was nothing else to do?

You sigh, bowing your head to avoid his gaze. Your voice is quiet when you speak next, bereft of any hope, any warmth.

“…I shall return to my duties in the morning, and I will keep out of everyone’s way, my lord. Goodnight.”

[weaselle]

i wanna do a thing where i lay out studies that show things in different primates that show us parts of ourselves as humans. Call it Primates: Through the Looking Glass or The Monkey in the Mirror or something

There are studies and documentaries that show things about Gorillas, Chimpanzees, Bonobos, Baboons, Macaques... that just make sense to me. That if shown right would make sense to a lot of people, i think.

like... they were studying this one group of gorillas --

okay wait. First of all, you know a silverback (the Big Male) of the group is not the leader or in charge or anything, right? He has a role, and it includes a certain amount of control, which i’ll explain briefly, but he’s not, like, in charge.

wait, you know all that Dominance/Alpha theory about wolves is all wrong, right?

wait wait wait, and also that like, the bull or the stag or whatever in a herd is not in charge of anything, right? right?

hold on. the wolves is it’s own post, the herd thing i might get back to, we’re on gorillas, okay. Silverback is basically just the male head of an extended family in which plenty of the leadership is handled by the women of the family.

There are often 2-4 silverbacks, but one, usually the largest, will clearly be senior to the others who are often his sons or brothers. Silverbacks have three main roles

1: defend the group from all physical threats aside from people, these threats are mostly random male gorillas, chimpanzee baby-snatching gangs, and the occasional leopard. Just his alert presence handles most scenarios, and then maybe a few times a year he has to risk his life fulfilling this responsibility. It is this role that provides most of whatever actual power he has over the group, namely this: while he isn’t necessarily the one deciding when and where the group goes on a daily basis, if the most powerful/capable silverback does decide to travel a direction, they pretty much have to go with him, the family isn’t safe without him.

2: make babies. And this is one area where the ladies of the group will sometimes sort of vote with their ovaries, and favor a silverback that isn’t the main one, like “yeah, Frank, you are the biggest, but honestly you’re a dick and we’re going to make sure the next generation of silverbacks isn’t another one of you.” When you see a main large silverback in a group of gorillas, it isn’t, like, his blindly loyal harem, they have to approve of him. Also gorilla females move between groups, and sometimes they take members with them or start new groups and stuff. Anyway i’m getting off track, one of the silverbacks jobs is making babies

3. keep the peace This functions a lot like being in the back seat with your siblings with your parents up front. Basically any disputes within the group have to be handled within a certain parameter of decorum, because if it gets too out of hand HE’s going to come over, and He’ll be upset, which is low-key terrifying because He’s huge, and there’s no telling who He’ll decide is at fault or what he’ll do about it, so letting a situation get out of hand is a losing scenario for everyone involved really. Tho typically he will favor senior females in disputes, in a “don’t you talk that way to your mom” kind of way.

one last thing, silverbacks don’t actually transfer power between silverbacks via battle every time.

Like i was just reading accounts from a multi-generational observational study of some wild gorillas that featured one big silverback just straight up taking over by performing the silverback duties better and becoming preferred by everyone else in the group. There was no fight, it just became, i do the job better, everyone likes me better, kicking my ass can’t change that, and boom, he was the primary silverback. And the other silverback might have been a bit dull, or a bit of a bully, but like us their species’ success is largely dependent on social intelligence; once he saw the writing on the wall, that other, slightly larger sivlerback didn’t even bother trying to change the situation with a physical fight, he understood what had happened.

okay so all that was just to tell you all this story. lol. Here’s what i saw in one documentary:

This very big, getting old silverback, who was hugely popular and successful, with a very large and tightly bonded family group, and a couple of his hulking adult sons backing him up. Everybody in his group seemed to love him a lot, he was particularly calm in that gentle giant sort of way, a safe, emotionally steady presence, happy to help raise his sons and daughters with kindness, and who could become a raging nightmare if pressed by a leopard ... exactly what a band of gorillas wants in a silverback.

But one of his adult sons had plenty of silver on his own back, and was getting itchier and itchier to be main man of the group, and this is where we start our little drama

It seems to be coming to a head, and the observers are nervous about a fight for the position. The silverback and his son are both are huge, probably approaching 400lbs, mostly muscle, with long thick fangs and skulls topped with jaw muscles as big as human biceps to wield those teeth, which nature has given them primarily to fight other gorillas with. 

But then the next day, the old man leads the fam up the mountain.

it’s winter, which is why they have come down the mountain in the first place. But as we discussed, if he goes somewhere, they have to go, so they all follow behind.

up he goes, and then he sits. And waits. It’s cold and there is much less food up here at this time of year. There’s nothing to do but sit hungry in the cold. His size and metabolism makes him the most able to withstand the cold, but even he is pretty uncomfortable. 

And so he sits. And his family, perhaps confused, but loyal, sits around him.

But his son, the other huge silverback, with years of training even as an adult under his wise father, is ready and able to go off on his own. Finally, he stands up, makes clear his intentions to leave this uncomfortable place. A small handful of the other gorillas stand with him -- if he goes down the mountain, then they can safely leave as well. He turns and heads down the mountain. After a moment, a few more gorillas leave the main group to follow. All in all it winds up being nearly half.

The wise older silverback thoughtfully watches his son leave with about half the group. He sits a while longer in the cold, in the company of those most loyal to him, and then takes them along a different path down the mountain

And those two groups still ran into each other sometimes, and were friendly. And sometimes a couple gorillas would change between the two groups. They were still close.

But i just thought that was such an elegant, meaningful way for that gorilla to handle that whole situation. And it makes a completely human sort of sense to me. 

[girlsworldillusion]

so this is what falling in love is like?

Ominis Gaunt x Gryffindor Reader

Summary: “Ominis, what — what are you trying to say?”

He breathes your name huskily, and you feel your cheeks tingle with the heat of a fresh flush of blush.

“I’m in love with you,” he says earnestly, more whispering the words than saying them, his hand tightening in yours a fraction more, and all you can do is stare at him in utter shock.

Where a night of studying at the Undercroft grows into something much bigger than you expected.

Rated: Explicit (+18)

Word count: 9k

Artist: (x) @oladcnfthb

Author's Note: My first fanfic of the HP universe. Not the last, if I may have a choice. I hope you all like it, your comments will be greatly appreciated by this poor writer.

English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you may find.

"And then I heard this girl, Grace Withey, or Whitney, I'm not sure now," the boy mutters thoughtfully before dismissing the question with an exquisite wave of his hand, "either way, she was asking if he had time to offer 'some much needed and much appreciated guidance in the Care of Magical Creatures', like she said. She claimed to be a disaster in that class, though it seemed like she was doing quite well before he arrived, if you ask me."

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh, but keep your eyes closed as you listen to Ominis report the detailed case of the latest romantic incident that simply fell into Sebastian's lap - emphasis on report, as this could never be classified as gossip. Ominis Gaunt has never stooped to the social stratagem that is the art of spreading gossip, as he himself makes a point of reminding you every time that possibility is remotely suggested in some witty comment.

After a long study session, you were both lounging carefree on the opulent burgundy couch set against one wall; a gaudy luxury that you fought tooth and nail to add to the cold expanse of the undercroft so that you could rest while you did some reading, or simply when you were too tired to return to your dormitories. Two tall stacks of books rested on the low table in front of you, some even open and scattered across the carpet on the floor, as well as piles of half-scribbled parchment, inkwells and quills. The flickering flames arranged in the braziers hanging on the walls provided an orange illumination that was both functional and comforting to the eyes. In the cushioned space between you two lay the remains of two boxes of Chocolate Frogs - his clearly opened in a much more elegant manner than yours.

Outside the castle the snow fell without stopping, freezing everything around with its cloud of crystals, but inside the walls you felt safe and warm.

"She was clearly interested in more than just his guidance on creature care."

Despite the suggestive tone, there's a soft smile on your lips as you says this, your feet swinging languidly on the tabletop where they're propped up on top of each other.

"No surprise there." He snorts beside you, a sullen quality to his tone that definitely wasn't there a few seconds ago. "This sort of thing always happens to him. And oh, he's so pompous about it too, really insufferable. It's obvious by now that he can have any girl in school, even some boys I dare say, and he's amply and unfortunately very aware of it. It's annoying that he has that kind of power, if you ask me."

This time you can't help the amused chuckle that escapes your lips, perfectly conjuring behind closed eyelids the sullen pout the man is surely making just by his tone of voice.

"Careful now, Gaunt, some poor unsuspecting person who hears you speak like that might interpret your words as jealousy." Your tone oscillates between a weak attempt at reprimand and amusement, enjoying poking the poor man. "What's wrong, haven't you been getting enough attention from the student masses?"

It was a teasing comment, intentional in the aim of maintaining the fun and pleasant atmosphere that surrounded them. But when a few good seconds pass without him saying anything in return, you slowly allow your eyes to open, staring at the Slytherin sitting next to you.

The first thing you notice is how tense his body is; shoulders rigid and head turned away from you, hands clenched tightly on his thighs. He looks uncomfortable in every tiny line of his tall body. He's not denying what you suggested and you've teased him enough times in the past to know that he should have done so already if he disagreed with your words.

Oh

"I would find such a notion rather unbelievable if that were the case, of course, since this is you we're talking about." You murmur slowly when it becomes obvious he's not going to respond, watching his every reaction intently as you fish for information.

"What—wait, what are you talking about?" He looks a little dazed, tilting his head toward you just a fraction, but you continue your train of thought, taking advantage of the fact that you have his attention once more.

"Well, you're Ominis Gaunt. Not only do you have all that physical representation of cold elegance and an aura of royalty that your House so annoyingly likes to impose, but you're also a member of one of the most notorious families in the wizarding world. It's hard to believe that there isn't a line of lovestruck hearts out there just waiting for an opportunity to date you. I bet you're just as popular as Sebastian these days - you're just more discreet about it than him, obviously."

Your comment, although honest in every word, is made innocently, with no apparent justification for any fuss - just sincere curiosity about the question raised. And that's why you're taken aback by his reaction to you. Even though he remains frozen where he sits with all the grace and refinement of an enchanted lord from a fairy tale, the poor man's cheeks burn with such an intense blush that you quickly find yourself worried that he's about to have some kind of silent breakdown.

"I-it's not quite like that." He straightens his already perfect posture as he brings a limp fist to his lips, covering his sudden stutter with a subtle cough that, in and of itself, carries more pomp than you could ever achieve in your entire life - which, of course, only confirms what you've just said. "While my family is admittedly reputed in the wizarding world, I can assure you that it is not in a good way at all. And it goes without saying that everyone here knows it too. They vacillate between avoiding me as if I've been jinxed with a repulsive Slugulus Eructo or fearing me as if I'll Avada them at the slightest sign of movement. That in itself is a major romance deterrent, you know. I don't blame them, of course. My family's crimes extend to me through the bloodline, whether I like it or not. It's inevitable, really."

You part your lips, all too ready to interrupt what was proving to be the beginning of another session of misplaced guilt from the Slytherin, when you see him smirking. His pale cheeks are still stained with that pink dust, but his lips are stretched in a mischievous pull that actually disguises his embarrassment for a few seconds.

"Besides, although I am, as you well know, completely averse to the dark practices of the Gaunts, I confess to taking advantage of all that reputation, sometimes. It suits me at some very specific moments."

You tilt your head, giving him your best unimpressed look.

"Oh, I am quite aware of that. Your readiness to use the Gaunts' reputation for your own benefit was especially evident that night when you threatened to terrorize my last generation if I opened my mouth about the Undercroft. You certainly know how to make a good point when you put intention behind it."

It washes the smile from his lips so instantly it's almost comical, leaving behind only a kicked, embarrassed expression, the flush in his cheeks highlighting the constellation of beauty marks on his porcelain skin.

"I - I already said I was sorry about that, I was just -"

"Hey, hey, it's okay, it doesn't bother me anymore. I'm just teasing you." You cut him off with a sly smile. "Anyway, you're not going to get away from the real issue here."

Because, well...you really couldn't stop thinking about the suggestiveness of his previous statement. The possibilities - oh - were running through your brain nonstop. So, against your better judgment, and with your cheeks flush with heat, you find yourself pressing him on it.

"I don't understand what exactly you want to know." He mumbles, trying to cover up his embarrassment with a look of disinterest that is too poor to be taken seriously.

"You...have been with someone before, right?" This time you're deadly direct, no hints or openings for half answers. You had a question and you wanted to clear it up, your embarrassment in uttering such words wouldn't be enough to stop you. "Ah, intimately, I mean."

Obviously, it's not the kind of question that a decent lady would have asked a young man of such high prestige as Ominis Gaunt, you imagine. But after everything you've been through since you started your journey at Hogwarts, you feel bolder than the tolerable standard for young ladies, as if you'd lost some of your subtlety somewhere along the way. But how could you not?

More times than you can remember, you've been teetering on the brink of death, facing enemies who didn't think twice about whether or not you were too young for such things. More times than you can remember, you've been responsible for making decisions that would directly impact the lives of many people, even the wizarding world as a whole. The power in your hands, the skills and the often almost unbearable weight that such responsibilities brought to your life, made your mentality run miles ahead of those of your schoolmates - of society, in general. Inevitably, you felt that circumstances had forced you to develop a sense of urgency and raw honesty that even some adults lacked.

It was true that you lacked practical experience in some intimate matters - now mind you, you didn't exactly have a lot of free time for romantic interests and sex, too busy between the Keepers Trials, running tirelessly through the Highlands performing exhausting tasks for every poor soul who crossed your path - tasks that often culminated in your near death - attending the many classes during the day and the intensive study for the O.W.L.s in the library.

It was a true miracle when you managed to find time to sleep in your own bed in the dormitory - more often than not you were so exhausted that you simply lay down wherever you were and took a nap.

The fact was that you weren't exactly experienced in matters of intimacy, not really. There had been a few daring kisses here and there, of course. Even a few curious hands while you were snuggling with a Ravenclaw boy between the shelves of the library, hidden from Madam Scribner's watchful eyes. But you hadn't gone any further than that with anyone - even though the rumors circulating around school were that you and Sebastian Sallow had once been caught in an embarrassing and quite explicit situation in the Prefects' Bathroom. Which, of course, was a blatant lie. You had only been in the Prefects' Bathroom once and it certainly wasn't for any...carnal purposes.

You suspected that it was Sebastian himself who had started such rumors.

Either way, your lack of experience in the field had never bothered you much. Honestly, you didn't have the energy to bother yourself with it more than superficially. But you’d be lying if you denied that the prospect that Ominis, the most unfairly handsome and well-born boy you’ve ever met, might be as inexperienced as you is doesn’t offer a kind of comfort you didn’t even know you needed — as well as a funny thrill of anticipation in your belly.

You blink slowly as you stare at his handsome profile, bracing yourself for more of his cold scowls and frustrated huffs of impatience — perhaps even a sermon on how unladylike it is to ask such questions. He’s very good at sermons. Instead, however, you’re met with something else entirely. The upturned bridge of his nose is stained with blush, as are his cheeks. His unseeing gaze is turned away from you, his lips pressed tightly together, the corners slightly turned down. He looks…nervous? Distressed? You feel bad for pushing him like this. But as blushing and regretful as you are, the thought of what this means makes your heart beat faster by the second. The thought that you were right about your deductions after all makes your throat almost dry.

"H-hey, Ominis," you stammer awkwardly, but he still doesn't tilt his head in your direction. His arms are crossed over his chest like a physical shield, his entire posture screaming barely contained tension, making you slowly pull your feet off the table and adjust yourself on the couch so that you're sitting sideways to face him better. You take a deep breath, but Merlin, the air between you feels heavy now. It's strange, really; you don't think the two of you have ever been this awkward around each other, except for the first time you had a conversation - which was actually more of a threatening monologue on his part than a conversation per se. The regret of having insisted on this subject begins to weigh on your chest - a sincere fear that something that seemed so harmless to you a few minutes ago could be the cause of a crack in the bond you've arduously cultivated with Ominis is taking root in your mind.

You adjust uncomfortably the red hood of the robe around your neck, thinking that it wasn't worth trying to satisfy your curiosity after all - and let it be recorded for all that a Gryffindor knows when to give up their pride and admit to having made a bad decision, no matter how bitter the aftertaste is on your tongue. With a forced smile on your lips and a hand rubbing the back of your head, you silently pray that your next words will ease the heavy mood that has settled in the Undercroft.

"You know what? Let's forget about it. This is really none of my business and I'm sure that -"

"No." Ominis interrupts you shyly, impossibly redder than before and you immediately shut up, eyes wide as you stare at him with your heart wanting to fly out of your chest. "I've never been like this with anyone." The small tremor in his voice indicates how nervous he feels.

It would be comical if it weren't so desperate how by now you were already certain of this statement and yet it still manages to leave you completely speechless when it leaves his lips. The regret of having started this whole thing is ridiculously more overwhelming than before because you simply don't know what to say now that you've heard what you already knew all along. Thinking back now, what in Godric's name did you plan on saying in the first place? He would confess what you suspected to be the truth and then what?

Congrats, that's what you get for being so inappropriately curious.

"T-there was this girl in fourth year and we, well, she kissed me - but it was weird and a complete accident, it only lasted for a second and...and after that I never, you know...I've never been interested in anyone like that...at least not until -"

You think you might just burst into a ball of flames from how scorching your skin is, and Ominis is obviously as disturbingly embarrassed as you are because he's gesticulating with his hands and babbling nonstop, his nervousness causing him to reveal far more than you had initially asked, making both of you more awkward by the second.

Oh. Oh, Merlin. He hadn't even kissed anyone. At least not really.

What are you supposed to do with this information?!

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, sighing so deeply that his shoulders slump with the movement, deflating the way a balloon punctured by a needle would. 

Despite your brutal state of embarrassment, you frown, leaning forward on the couch so that you’re a little closer to him. “Sorry? Why are you sorry? I’m the one who asked you things that didn’t concern me. If anything, I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”

Ominis gives you a shy smile that lacks any sincere joy. “I know, but still. I mean, I shouldn’t have — it’s weird for me to say these things about you, even though I’ve wanted to say them for a while. But I didn’t — I just didn’t want it to be this disastrous.”

In retrospect, you think this might all just be a trick of your overactive imagination. It's quite possible that you simply blacked out while Ominis was telling you about Sebastian's latest romantic endeavor - in his deep, soft voice - and that this is all just a dream.

It's a very plausible option, given that this has happened before. His presence, always so calm and controlled, combined with his mesmerizing baritone have guided you into a lethargic state of drowsiness more times than you can remember. It's just how he makes you feel - relaxed and safe.

Yes, that's what's happening once again. It has to be. Why, for heaven's sake, can't you have just heard what you think you heard, right?

But the way he stands there, serious features and a deep blush on his face, waiting for your answer with a visible degree of insecurity in his normally impassive being, is what makes you finally say something.

"W-was that about me?" You let out quietly, your racing heartbeat somehow accelerating even more, to the point where you question the harm this would do to your health. "When you said you've never been interested in anyone like that, at least until..." you continue, trying to bring some semblance of order to your thoughts, "was it me you were talking about then?"

It took a few seconds before he nodded once.

"I've wanted to talk to you about this for a long time. But there was always something going on - someone you needed to help, a poor creature needing to be rescued in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, a Goblin Helm to be recovered in a cursed cave far away from here..." he chuckles softly and you find yourself laughing back, shy and gentle, though a long exhale leaves your lips as you feel a bit of lightness begin to permeate the air between you two once more.

He reaches for you hesitant, but gently - oh so gently - places his cold hand above yours on the couch. You don't flinch or avoid his touch, though you still stare for a few seconds at the place where his long, pale fingers cover yours, trying to assimilate the unreal image that unfolds in front of you. And when your gaze rises and finally finds his face, it almost breaks your heart.

Realistically, you know he can’t see anything at all, but that becomes an afterthought in your mind as soon as you look at him. His eyes, bright, pale blue orbs like two moon-like spheres, are tilted and fixed at the exact same level as yours — and in this particular moment, you’re certain he’s seeing you, as impossible as that possibility may be. Swallowing the saliva that’s building in your mouth is suddenly a difficult task, but you force yourself to do it anyway.

"Ominis, what—what are you trying to say?”

You whisper slowly, as if the mere question is a secret between the two of you, the unexpected intensity in his cloudy eyes making your heart stutter as he continues to stare at you, his bushy brows furrowed in an expression that’s hard to discern. Suddenly, you realize how close you’re standing. Nothing but a small gap in the couch separates you, where your hands are clasped together and two boxes of Chocolate Frogs still rest. You can smell him, confunsing your mind as you unconsciously lean a little closer to him — fresh mint, chocolate, and something that reminds you of open parchment or the scent of the pages of a rare book.

He breathes your name huskily, and you feel your cheeks tingle with the heat of a fresh flush of blush.

“I’m in love with you,” he says earnestly, more whispering the words than saying them, his hand tightening in yours a fraction more, and all you can do is stare at him in utter shock. The expression on his face is vulnerable, evidenced by the furrowed lines of his brows in what looks almost like agony. But he’s also determined — a single-minded determination that’s enough to steal the breath from your lungs. "It took me a while to understand it, but I think I've been since the day I met you, to be honest. When you arrived late to the Great Hall, out of breath and in a hurry, but still so ecstatic with everything around you - as if being brutally attacked by a dragon while trying to get to school was no big deal. You've been stunning to me ever since. It was impossible not to be completely enchanted by you."

You're at a loss for words, so you don't even try to find them, opting for silence as you repeat his words on a loop in your mind.

It's strange how you always imagined confessions like this should be made in front of silvery moonlit ponds or in lush meadows during the spring season or literally anywhere that could be considered even remotely inspiring for romance. Certainly not in secret spaces filled with dust, crates and training dummies like the Undercroft. But here you are; overwhelmed and speechless by a declaration made in the last place you imagined you'd receive one.

And oh Merlin, you want to believe him, to entertain the idea that someone as utterly adorable as Ominis could feel that way about you - even though you've never been able to explain to yourself how you really felt about him.

Ominis Gaunt has always been an enigma.

The Slytherin's obvious qualities are nothing new to you; his gentle disposition despite his aloof facade and the weight of his family's unsavory reputation, or his polite and gentlemanly manners towards everyone. But these were attributes that anyone with even the slightest interest in him could see, qualities that didn't set him apart that much from others you knew.

But the truth is that, with time and familiarity, you noticed other distinct peculiarities in Ominis.

Leaving aside his ethereal beauty and his tall, majestic physique, which, again, are very obvious positive traits about him, he was the most captivating man you've ever met. The patience he possessed towards others, the fierce loyalty to you and Sebastian, the fact that despite the long sermons that accompanied it, he was always breaking the promises he made to himself in favor to protect and support those he loved. His far above average intelligence, the way he annoyingly always knows the right thing to say - even, and especially, at the times when you don't want to hear it. And, of course, his most attractive side in your opinion: the unexpected softness in his dark nature - it's about him being able to frighten and silence an entire room with just his imposing presence and still be the one to comfort and care, with kindness and respect.

You certainly understood that Ominis was someone seriously conflicted. The way he sometimes tended towards a cold temperament, or how, at times, he let his emotions guide him to his dark and cold side, did not go unnoticed by you. But still, you saw how he tried hard to let his gentle side prevail in his manner.

But

Did noticing these little details that would normally go unnoticed by others mean that you reciprocate his feelings?

Well, you felt safe with him. Even safer than you felt with Sebastian. While the latter was undeniably a friend you held in high regard (and even a small crush, if you were honest) he did not give you the same sense of complete comfort and trust that Ominis did. With Sebastian you felt like you had to constantly prove yourself, like just being who you were was never enough for him. Now with Ominis...

And as you stare at him, open-mouthed, searching for the right words to respond to his unexpected declaration, you think that maybe that's why you've never been able to put a name to what you felt for him. There was no heady, bubbling, flowery passion to announce any feelings, like there had been with your other brief flirtations before - or even with Sebastian. There was only the warmth, the relief, the peace of feeling whole and completely safe.

The feeling of knowing that if you were in a life-or-death situation and could count on only one person to save you, he would be the one to come to your rescue.

Godric

Realization borns in your chest to the point where you feel like you could float, like the feeling after eating a mouthful of Fizzling Whizzbees. Suddenly, you feel like you have so much to say, but you don't know how. Ominis, as usual, is much more eloquent:

"You wanted to know if I've ever been intimate with anyone, and my answer is no." He seems more hesitant, as if his hopes have been diminished a bit along with your prolonged silence, but his voice is still soft - as is the grip of his fingers on yours. "I've never been intimate with anyone because the only person I've ever wanted to be with was you."

All the air in your lungs leaves you in a sharp exhale, the warmth of deep admiration, affection and trust filling your chest and making your heart beat wildly. Overcome with emotion, you look once more at his hand holding your smaller one, opening your mouth, fumbling for the words in a confusing jumble of vowels and consonants.

"It's okay," Ominis assures you with a sad smile, his large milky eyes slanted downward, staring blindly at where he feels you squeeze his fingers. "I know it's a lot to take in at once. I don't mean to pressure you into anything, I swear. I just, I guess I just needed to tell you how I feel. But I understand if...well...I really understand that you don't feel the same way." His thick eyebrows sink, his face hardening slightly, as if he's already prepared for your rejection.

"Ominis." His name is a sigh from your lips. Touched. Longing.

You don't know how exactly what was supposed to be just another night of studying has brought you here. All you know is that you intend to enjoy every moment of this unexpected confession, eager to discover what new paths it might lead to.

The heat of Ominis so close combined with the way your heart had raced as you focused on his perfectly flushed lips, and how his scent was making your head spin, made you suddenly feel more impulsive than ever. And that's saying something considering your history of questionable choices.

You decide to go for it.

"Can I kiss you?" You ask in a frail whisper as you realize that nothing you could say would be enough to make him understand the emotions you're feeling right now.

His head snaps up at the question, his eyes wide and his lips parted.

"W-what? I mean, yes. Merlin, yes you can -" he breathes quickly, his pale skin stained with a deep blush, his orbs darting aimlessly. "But I've never actually kissed anyone - I might not be as good at it as -"

You cut it.

"I seriously doubt that."

This only makes him blush harder and you almost regret what you said, rushing to save him from the situation.

"B-but I can show you how, if you prefer."

You’re almost breathless at this point, vaguely reminding yourself that you’re no queen of the experience either, but when he nods eagerly, everything flies out the window and it’s like the pulsing muscle in your chest has given up on this whole adrenaline show and simply stopped beating.

Well, that’s it, you think as you push the boxes of Chocolate Frogs onto the rug with trembling fingers and move closer to Ominis until your legs are touching.

You’re almost facing each other on the couch now, his breath fanning your face, gentle and soft, and you stare for a moment into the milky expanse of his eyes. Pale skin dotted with a few beauty marks, perfectly sculpted jaw, elegant nose, flushed lips slightly parted.

For a moment, shame takes over you to the point where you almost turn around and beg him to pretend none of this happened. Almost. But his thumb lovingly caressing your knuckles is what grounds you in this moment once again.

You wouldn’t be a self-respecting Gryffindor if you gave up on your goals over a little embarrassment, would you?

“Right.”

You gently cup Ominis’ jaw between your fingers, delighted when he immediately leans into the touch, unable to hide the small hitch in your breath as you feels his heart rate spike as press on a pulse point.

You lean closer to him than you’ve ever been before, your noses not even four inches apart, his minty breath tickling your face. "Close your eyes, please,” your voice trembles weakly and you wet your lips before continuing, your skin so heated that you’re sure Ominis can feel the flames emanating from it without even touching you, “and then just do what feels right, I guess – let your body guide you.”

You didn’t even know what you were saying anymore, but there he was, bathed in the flames of the braziers and the partial darkness of the Undercroft; his long, thick eyelashes fanning over his flushed cheekbones as he does exactly what you say, more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen in your life.

He keeps one hand covering yours to stroke your fingers back and forth, his other hand, however, is on his own thigh, clenched into a tight fist – like a restraint. Restraint for what? You’re not sure. But the possibilities still conjure a swarm of butterflies in your belly.

Ominis leans in a little closer, almost unconsciously, parting his lips and inhaling audibly as you exhale a soft sound. Your hand slides down the sharp line of his jaw, stroking the curve of his ear with your thumb until you rest your fingers delicately on the back of his neck, guiding him to extinguish the last few inches that separate you as you let your own eyes drift closed. With a tentative brush of your lip against his, you press forward, sealing your lips and your heart with his in that moment.

The first touch is nothing and absolutely everything you imagined.

You sigh.

For the first second you freeze, afraid that you have no idea what you would do now that you finally felt Ominis Gaunt's plush lips on yours, but apparently your previous advice to him is very convenient and your instincts take over the worry almost instantly.

Your lips mold between his like a perfect fit, soft and moist, his heat invading your mouth in shy puffs. You melt almost immediately, letting the kiss remain chaste - a firm but soft pressure, with gentle movements over his.

All tension drains from your body because this is familiar; sweet, warming your body from the inside, like drinking butterbeer with friends in front of a fireplace on a cold winter's day - comfortable, safe. But it also gives you an anxious tingle that makes you unconsciously squeeze your legs together; your stomach twists and turns with funny somersaults, the swarm of butterflies more agitated than ever.

Having your lips collide with his, the softness and fresh taste he exudes, you realize how much you miss this - even if it's the first time you're experiencing it with him. So much for emotional incoherence.

Ominis breathes a shaky, heated breath into your mouth, fingers releasing your hand to grip your wrist in an almost desperate gesture.

You're the first to pull back, suddenly dizzy, blushing even more when he chases your lips for a few inches before stopping himself. Through half-lidded eyes, you watch him slowly begin to open his too, a dazed look on his face, with panting lips and rosy cheeks that make him look both childish and incredibly sinful at the same time.

"O-Ominis," you whisper, panting as if you've just finished climbing one of the mountains in the Highlands. “That was…”

In a game-changing moment, he furrows his brows and locks his jaw once before parting his lips to say, “Can we do this again? I mean, do you want to… will you let me do it again? Like, right now?”

Despite your earlier determination, you find yourself whipped by the abrupt change in his tone. At the restless eagerness in his breathy voice, at the possessive grip on your wrist. How, in the blink of an eye, the tables seem to have been turned and he’s the one taking control now. But inexplicably, your own greed for more collides with his and you find yourself nodding, before remembering that he couldn’t possibly see your silent consent.

“Yes, please…”

Unlike you thought, he doesn’t immediately pull you to his lips. What he does, however, stuns you more than any alternative. His fingers, long and elegant, adorned with a few rings that are surely worth more than your life, close around the sides of your waist as soon as the words leave your lips, hoisting your body off the couch with such blatant ease that it would surprise you if you didn’t have more shocking things to deal with at the moment. Like, for example, the fact that he made you sit facing him.

On his lap.

You gasp, absolutely mortified, but, removed from all logic, you make no move to escape his grip; allowing your legs to remain parted on the sides of his thighs, hips against his, hands gripping his broad shoulders for stability.

Ominis, unlike you, seems quite at ease with the awkward position he’s placed you in, releasing your waist to tentatively raise his cold fingers to your burning face, pale blue eyes intensely and greedily locked on your features - features he could never see. Not in the usual way.

“I can?”

Deeply disturbed by the way he’s looking at you and how quickly things have climbed, you can’t find the words to respond, choosing instead to take both of his wrists in your delicate, trembling fingers and guide his hands to your face. You try to control your rapid breathing as his fingers trace the angles of your eyebrows and jaw and the soft roundness of your cheeks and chin, the icy feel of his rings prickling your skin. His eyes slowly close, his brows furrowed in concentration, as if he’s replicating the image of your face in his mind.

“You always smell like honey and lemon tea leaves.” He murmurs with a satisfied hum, and your eyelashes flutter along with your heart as he traces the arch of your eyebrow and then the line of your nose. Your mouth falls open unconsciously when his fingers touch the softness of your lower lip, and it’s Ominis who gasps this time. You watch in embarrassed ecstasy as his face darkens with a blush, the muscle in his jaw twitching once more, his thick eyelashes fluttering over the apple of his cheeks.

You nervously smooth the green hood of the robe around his neck, playing with the texture of the fabric to distract yourself from the intense emotions that threaten to make you faint.

“Your heart is beating so loud I can hear it from here,” he says softly, tracing the delicate cupid’s bow over your lips, a mischievous tug at the right corner of his mouth.

Your eyes widen a little as you let out a shy giggle, still pretending to maintain a confidence that has surely flown out the window long ago. Ominis once told you that since he lacked the fundamental sense of sight, his other senses have been immensely enhanced over the years, including hearing. And, well, your heart was beating so loudly and unkindly as the quickening footsteps of a Graphorn.

The thorough exploration stops for a moment so he can gently cup your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, and you feel the slightest pressure toward him. He pulls you straight to him.

Your faces are almost touching once more. You feel his soft breath on your cheek, hear his light but greedy intake of breath. His grip tightens the tiniest fraction.

Soft lips press against your cheek.

He doesn’t rush at all. The kiss lingers. A warm, syrupy sensation spreads through your body. Your hands tighten in the fabric around his neck. His lips press a little deeper, the tip of his nose nudging your temple affectionately. A warm sigh blows over your flushed skin before he pulls away. His fingers trail, impossibly soft, along your jaw in comforting movements as he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, your other cheek, and another to the tip of your nose. His contradiction shocks you as much as it always has; how one moment he can be shy and hesitant and the next the most confident and dominant person in the world.

“So beautiful, sweet girl.”

You’re about to scream, bubbles of affection and desire exploding in your chest, your fingers itching to pull him in for another kiss. Wanting — no, needing — his lips on yours once more. You don’t have much control left, though. He’s stolen your confidence and turned it into a messy, tangled puddle of wants. You know what you want, but you don’t dare take it. Not when he’s clearly calling the shots like this. You’re frozen, barely breathing, and only vaguely aware that he’s touching your neck now, tilting your head so your faces are pressed together as he push his lips to yours again.

Merlin, yes

This time you actually shiver beneath his fingers, a helpless noise rising from your throat straight to his mouth. His other hand tightens around your waist, and the one on your neck slides into your hair, his fingers digging into your scalp.

This kiss is clearly different from the last, bolder and hungrier from the first contact. And you actually find yourself questioning the veracity of his claim about being inexperienced at this, because by Merlin' sake, he certainly seems very skilled to you.

You assume this is another one of those inexplicable situations where he’s exceptionally good at whatever it is he sets out to do, even if it’s the first time he’s doing it. The thought almost irritates you, as it reminds you of your first kiss — the one that was an awkward, painful mess of teeth chattering and more saliva than there should have been. But just as quickly as the feeling appears, it’s gone.

Your head feels light and buoyant, and it feels a lot like being enchanted with a Wingardium Leviosa the exact moment his tongue brushes against your bottom lip. Then, all you can seem to hold in your mind is the sensation — the heat of his tongue in your mouth, the almost painful stab as he pulls your head back by your hair, the shocking, abject excitement that surges as he starts to act more roughly. You moan, and he wraps his arm around your back to pull you so close to him that your chests are pressed tightly together.

You’re not sure when you do it, but behind your closed lids you swear you see entire constellations exploding with the sensations he gives you with his kiss.

There’s a certain degree of inexperience in the way his tongue moves inside your mouth, but that’s nothing more than a tiny detail when compared to the absolute hunger with which he seems to want to devour you. His saliva, like all of him, seems to melt on your tongue with the most addictive mint flavor - and, deliciously, the lingering taste of the chocolate you both ate not long ago.

It’s all overwhelming, perfect but overwhelming, and the dizziness comes faster than you could have anticipated, making your movements slower and heavier. A wet breath, a grunt from him, another maddening kiss, lips seeking lips, soft cotton under your fingertips. Ominis’s robe feels like a lifeline, and you grab it with everything you’ve got.

If you focused on something other than the sensation, you might notice how heated you both are and how flushed you look. Maybe you could notice Ominis’ hand gently releasing the death grip of your hand on his robe to place the aching fingers on the back of his head.

Just when your nails unconsciously scrape his scalp to pull a few strands of blond hair between your fingers, Ominis parts his lips between yours to release the most sinful of sounds — something that lies somewhere between a growl and a moan, and the thing goes like a lightning bolt straight between your legs.

It’s you who pulls him back into a feverish kiss this time, wet, breathy sounds escaping you both between the clash of your tongues as you press against each other. You’re hyper-aware of how hard he is beneath you, his length straining against the fabric of his uniform pants, and you blush — but you want him even more. Delicately but purposefully, you catch his swollen bottom lip between your teeth to tug once before licking it, but Ominis gasps so loudly and closes his hand around your neck so unexpectedly that you actually choke on a startled, high-pitched sound.

Regardless of the adrenaline rush the action generates, or perhaps precisely because of it, you brace your knees better on the couch around him, rocking your pelvis against Ominis’s before you even realize what you’re doing, enjoying the strangled gasp he lets out despite the almost fierce grip on yyour throat.

“Again. Do it again,” he breathes against your lips, resting his forehead against yours, and you do. Ominis begins to move too, thrusting his hips up while you thrust yours down, getting into a rhythm that has you both gasping in the silence of the Undercroft, the flames of the braziers the only other noises to be heard around.

His hand slides under your shirt without any warning, over the soft skin of your stomach and to the edge of your bra before pushing it up and over your breast. The shock of his cold fingers on your heated skin is so much that you cry out, your nipple hardening in his broad palm as you push harder against him, and the shuddering gasp that leaves him in response has you aching to touch him too. And, by Godric, has the Undercroft always been this suffocatingly heat?

You pull apart for air as Ominis chases your lips with his, the feverish movements of your hips momentarily ceasing.

“Ominis…?” Your unspoken question hangs in the air between you, curious, thirsty to know how far you both intend to let this go.

His nose brushes against yours, his brows furrowed in anguish, his eyes pale and intense. “Every…Every single time I heard you, or smelled you near, I felt this. This desire. I’ve imagined you, like this, with me. So many times. It’s always been you. I want this so bad.”

“Y-yes,” you whisper as breathlessly as he does, your words a shared secret between you two and the darkness. “I want this too. I want you.”

He sighs in rapture, pressing his grip on your throat a fraction further, kneading his hand over your breast until he catches a nipple between his fingers, teasing the flesh with the cold silver of his signet ring. “Then don’t stop. Don’t you fucking dare stop.”

The commanding quality in his normally restrained tone coupled with his unusual choice of dirty language causes a spontaneous clench in the wet region between your legs. With unsteady fingers you snake your hand under his shirt, mimicking the same liberty he’s taken with you, and feel his back arch in response as you slide your soft and warm palm across the hard planes of his abdomen. With your other hand, you hold a silky handful of his hair, pulling him into a hard kiss as you roll your hips over him again - both of you moaning at the sensual grinding of your intimate parts.

“Baby, just like that -” he breathes shakily as he pulls away from the kiss and turns his head. At first you think he might just be hiding his face in the crook of your neck, but when you feel a pair of warm lips on the delicate flesh of that area your eyes flutter shut.

“Ominis,” is all you can manage to say as you tilt your head to the side for better access and hold him tighter by the grip on the back of his neck, rolling your hips to press yourself against the Slytherin as he begins to gently suck on the sensitive skin.

There are so many layers between the two of you. Ominis’s pants, his underwear, your panties, the heavy robes draped over your bodies, the uniform shirts. Barriers that at the moment only serve to prevent the actual touch of skin on skin. And, Merlin, you want so badly to feel his skin against yours, but you feel like you can’t rush it. Either way, neither of you seem to have the patience for the task at the moment, his mouth on your neck feeling so incredibly good that you can’t think of stopping him from continuing – not even so you can undress.

This intimacy with him already surpasses any practical experience you’ve had, any previous secret make out session. The adrenaline coursing through your veins is more than you’ve ever felt before – more electrifying than raiding Goblin and Ashwinder encampments, more than rescuing a Hippogriff right under Theophilus Harlow’s nose, more than completing a Trial from one of the Keepers. And the sheer euphoria and newness of it all, the overwhelming and unfamiliar sensations, his panting breaths in your ear, the needy grip of his hands on your body, his cock pressed greedily between your legs – and, most of all, the fact that it’s him, is pushing you rapidly towards your inevitable end. You’ll come soon, and for the first time, not from your own fingers.

Ominis licks a particularly hard bite mark he’s just left (in a place that’s going to be pretty troublesome to hide, you think) and pulls back a few inches as you both move together, leaving you alone to deal with the overwhelming image of his face carved in lust; the way his porcelain skin flushes and his kiss swollen mouth opens in a long sigh, pearly eyes half-lidded between his thick lashes as he grinds eagerly against you, the normally perfectly straight strands of hair now messy from your fidgeting fingers, falling across his forehead in a way that’s disturbingly sexy.

“I thought something like this would never happen. I never thought you’d want me the same way. Not someone like me.”

The way he speaks, breathless and feverish, yet so vulnerable and sincere, has you tearing up before you even realize it, sinking your fingers into the space between his chest, right above where his heart flutters like the wings of a Golden Snitch.

“Ominis...you’re so beautiful. You’re perfect. I-I’m so sorry I didn’t notice your feelings before. But I’m here now - you have me now.”

The breath seems to be knocked out of him by your words and you can taste his need as your mouths push together again in a slick mess of saliva and teeth - this time in the right way. Your own mind goes blank, any capacity for thought draining from you as he releases your breast to bring both hands under the skirt of your uniform, possessively grabbing the soft cheeks of your ass between his fingers to pull your body in time with his thrusts.

“Salazar, how can you be so good?” He groans as he breaks the kiss and shamelessly grinds your quivering pussy against his swollen cock, the fabric of his pants growing wet - as much his fault as yours. “Oh, I…fuck, y/n, harder. Harder, baby, please.”

You feel like your face is literally on fire, but you do as you’re told, grinding yourself hard against Ominis and watching with hypnotic attention as his eyes drift closed, his head tilting back against the back of the couch as his hips thrust upwards more roughly. The Adam’s apple in his slender, pale throat bobs with each hard swallow, his skin beginning to glisten with a subtle sheen of sweat. He’s so gorgeous, the sight of him ravished like this is so enchanting that it takes a few seconds for you to realize he’s mumbling something - and a few more seconds for it to sink in that you don’t understand the language.

Because he’s speaking in Parseltongue.

You don’t think he even realizes what he’s doing, considering his reservations about the dialect, too lost in the dizzying rush of pleasure. You are, however, hyperaware of the sounds that flow with hypnotic fluidity from his parted lips; harsh hisses, elongated chirps, vibrant trills of a pink tongue…

You may not understand what he’s saying, but you don’t need to be an expert in the speech to know that it’s definitely not something that should be said in public.

Your cheeks flush as he hisses something that sounds particularly filthy through clenched teeth, skin flushed and eyebrows furrowed in an almost irritated frown — which only makes him more irresistible to your eyes.

You can’t help the way your legs widen to their maximum limits, trying to mold your pussy to the thick line of his cock hidden beneath his pants as best you can.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” he whispers, seemingly back to normal speech (a part of you regrets this), his mouth opening in a guttural moan.

“O-Ominis—” You say, tasting his name in your mouth and it almost sounds like a question, but he fucks himself harder against you, clawing at the flesh of your ass to keep you in place, thrusting his hips into yours until you’re moaning louder — even with the barrier of fabric separating you, you feel it perfectly when the rounded head of his cock manages to hit the exact spot where your clit is.

“Louder,” he growls, lifting his head to you once more, chasing that beautiful sound that came out of your mouth like a starving man. “Let me hear who you’re rubbing yourself against like that.” He leans down and licks a stripe down your throat to your ear.

“Oh, Ominis—” You gasp louder, arching your neck to give him more acess. You can’t even finish your sentence, your lips parted in an “o” as his cock pushes against your pussy in the sweetest way. Your thighs are trembling now, and it feels so good, and you’re going to come, you know you will. “Please, please, you’re going to make me-” the muscles in your stomach are already clenching in anticipation, your back arching, and there’s a high-pitched sound wanting to rip from your throat and you know it’s going to be loud if you can’t control yourself.

“Come on, that’s it, just like that,” he rasps, and your moans grow more intrepid, until they finally turn into desperate gasps as you feel yourself one small step away from the edge.

It feels a little like going crazy, like being out of your mind, just using each other, fucking dirty and rough through your clothes, and you barely realize you’re digging your nails into the skin of his chest until Ominis’s head is jerking back, a sound that fluctuates between a moan of pleasure and pain leaving his lips — even as he murmurs a ‘keep going, please don’t stop.’

“Give it to me, my pretty girl,” he murmurs breathlessly, and you pull the blond strands of his hair between your fingers, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open with sounds that only make his grip on your ass grow greedier. Fuck, that feels good. “Come on, y/n, baby—”

His needy plea is what sends you flying over the edge. Within seconds, your eyes are watering hard, a spiral of lightning-fast heat hitting you as your pussy flutters and clenches around emptiness, the familiar wetness soaking your panties even more.

You cover your mouth a second too late, nearly choking on the scream you muffle into the sweaty palm of the hand that was once under his shirt, your orgasm ripping through your body without any subtlety. Neurons collapsing, couch creaking with the force of your movements, vision blurring and darkening at the edges - but Ominis isn't done with you.

When your drunken gaze flickers open to focus on his face, you notice how absolutely enraptured he looks, his pale eyes locked on your face as if he can actually see you in your breakdown.

Your body is limp and shaking, but you press your forehead against his as he struggles to keep up the pace now that you've given in to exhaustion. Your mouth is parted as he breathes in and out right next to your lips, eyes half-lidded. You lean in to kiss him gently on the lips as he thrusts hard into you, cupping his face to pepper kisses across his cheeks amidst his moans.

One of the hands on your ass comes up to tangle in your hair and tilt your head back so he can kiss your jaw. He thrusts into you hard enough that your body jumps up, but you hold on to him as best you can. Your bodies as entangled as they can be.

You even try to muster the strength to rock your hips against him, but his fingers in your ass tighten to keep you in place as he picks up the pace himself.

His fingers were digging into your flesh and your hair so hard it would have been painful in any other scenario. But not in this one. As it was, it was a reminder of how deep he was falling, how much he seemed to need this, need you, judging by his noises. 

“Come on,” you whisper when you manage to slide your lips to his ear, both of you sweaty and flushed, your little fingers scratching the back of his neck in comforting motions as you encourage him to reach his limit, “come for me, Ominis. Please, please -”

It works. Ominis parts his lips almost immediately, giving a husky moan of release that makes your pussy quiver back to life, his larger body tensing beneath yours, shuddering once, twice. His pale, cloudy eyes look watery for a few seconds, and his perfectly chiseled cheekbones are stained with the most charming blush beneath the sweat on his skin — fuck, gorgeous, that’s what he is.

He collapses back against the couch completely after a while, his arms wrapping around your smaller frame to keep you clinging to him. Not that he needs to. You’re too languid to move. Too exhausted and spent to care about anything or anyone other than him.

His head rests against your collarbone, rising and falling with your ragged breaths. Your arms wrap around him, your hand still lightly stroking his hair. There are blond strands stuck to his sweaty forehead, and you do your best to brush them back when he looks up at you, though his eyes are still closed, visibly pleased with the end result of this study session.

His own fingers run through the unruly strands of hair around your face, brushing a few behind your ear with a gentle caress. He opens his eyes after a while, orbs cloudy and ethereal, but you swear you can see an infinite constellation of glowing dots on their pale screen.

“I…” he begins hesitantly, his voice a little firmer now, though he still wets his swollen lips before continuing. “This meant a lot to me. You have no idea how much. But I don’t want to assume anything - I just, you don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to - you know, don’t feel like you have to be with me just because I…” he sighs, swallowing hard, trying to find the words to say something you already understand.

“Shhh,” you place the tip of your index finger over his lips, chuckling softly when he blushes, “I may have taken a while to realize it, but I also want to see where this can lead us. I do, Ominis.”

He sighs in relief, as if he’s come up for air after a long time underwater, cradling your face between the broad palms of his hands.

"Salazar, that's so good to hear. I really didn't know how I was going to go back to acting like just friends after what happened, if it was your decision." He murmurs seriously, but his sharp features are relaxed as he rests his forehead against yours.

"Don't be so dramatic." You roll your eyes as weakly scold him, though your heart is warm and cozy inside your chest, embracing this moment for what it is - precious. "Didn't you hear what I said just now?"

He pulls back a few inches, his nose wrinkling slightly as he tries to figure out what you're talking about.

He's so cute.

You can't help yourself before you purse your lips into a pout and plant a tender kiss on the tip of his nose.

"I told you you have me now, little fool."

The smile he gives you in response is extremely rare; full and bright, two cute dimples on each side of the cheeks, showing off his perfect teeth; everything as charming as the rest of him. Even though he doesn't say anything after your declaration, seeing something so unusual directed at you already tells you everything you need to know. You sigh in excitement, letting him pull you by the nape of your neck for another kiss, pouring all the adoration he feels for you into the act.

Your skin is sticky with sweat, your hair a mess of knots, your clothes wrinkled and askew, the space between you a wet, embarrassing mess - the heat from both of your robes heating your skin to an almost suffocating level. But neither of you makes any move to separate, or even to pick up your wands and cast a simple cleaning spell - too enraptured with each other and so completely satisfied that you happily ignore everything else.

You feel so happy. And, most importantly, ready for what is to come.

Outside the castle, the snow falls without stopping, freezing everything around with its cloud of crystals. But here, in this dusty and unlikely place for romance, you feel safe and warm.

[nerdygirlramblings]

previous

Nearly half an hour later, Gaz leads you to a table along the dance floor. You've been collecting scraps of data every time he's waltzed you past Spinner's table, but without Arella on the hook, the op's about to be a bust. Suddenly, Gaz's eyes widen just a fraction, so quickly you could blink and miss it, but you don't blink, and you have a sneaking suspicion about what caused that reaction when you hear a pleasant voice behind you ask you for a dance. Gaz's reaction is the only warning you have to the fact that Spinner is standing there, hand out, wrist up, waiting for you.

You turn with a smile already on your lips and Price's voice in your ear, whispering, "Don't put yerself in danger, but see what ya can learn."

From the frown on his face, you know Gaz heard the Captain as well and isn't happy. You gently take Spinner's hand in yours and inhale the scent of linen and leather. It reminds you of secondhand bookshops, old tomes and leather binding with yellowed pages. It's a scent heavy that evokes a long history and rich legacy.

As is polite protocol, you flip your wrist and place it in his hand. He leans over and inhales deeply. You try to suffuse your scent with interest, slight enough to read as curiosity rather than desire. You lean to Gaz and brush a quick kiss near his ear, whispering, "Stay calm," before pulling back and more loudly announcing, "I'll be back in a moment."

Neither of you thought to play up a romance between you, which gave Spinner the opening to ask in the first place. A cheek kiss won't dissuade the man at this point, but it's a clear signal to him that you plan to return to your date. It's your only insurance to keep yourself safe.

Spinner gently takes your hand and pulls you onto the dance floor. His hold on you is tighter than Gaz's had been, and when you glance over, he's white-knuckling his glass. Trying to put your unease out of your mind, and clear it from your scent, you turn back to Spinner. On those outings around base, one of the most important things Price told you was to let your target share things of their own accord. Ask too many questions, and you'll look suspicious. But provide an opening, and you may get far more information.

So instead of saying anything, you let Spinner twirl you around while the music plays. Eventually he leans forward and takes another deep inhale. If you weren't sure of his secondary status before, this bold move screams alpha. But you bite your tongue and bide your time.

Spinner leans back and looks you in the eye. "I haven't been able to keep my mind my eyes off you. That dress and that collar make you hard to miss."

You thank him with a slight dip of your head and small, coy smile. He continues, "How have I never seen you at these kind of events, Miss..." He trails off leaving you space to introduce yourself. You give him your callsign, well versed at this point in how to turn it around into a cover. "Wren?" he asks, "like the bird?"

Another smile graces your lips, and you let your eyes briefly meet his. "Yes. My parents gave me the name hoping one day I'd grow wings, Mister..." You trail off as he had done. Though you know who he is, you want to see what information he'll give you voluntarily.

"Spinner, my dear. The name's Albert Spinner. But we don't need to be so formal, do we? You can call me Albert." He hand flexes around your waist, enough to let you know he's in charge and to call him by his name. There's no point in trying to resist as you want to keep him calm and talking.

You consciously work to school your accent into something acceptable in Spinner's circles. "Pleasure to meet you, Albert," you say. "You didn't recognize me because it's my first time at something so fancy. Do you attend these kind of functions often? I didn't even know about it until my friend," you tilt your head to the table where Gaz watches you both, "received tickets from his boss."

Spinner laughs, a deep rich sound that carries an undercurrent of condescension. "For some of us, these things happen far too frequently." You let him continue to spin you. "Why, I was at one in Kensington two months ago, and there's another gala slated for sometime next month in Waterloo."

"All charity auctions? For the same charity?" you ask, knowing, or at least guessing, the answer.

That laugh again. Grating. Though maybe only because you know something about this facade and the man underneath he seems desperate to hide. "Obviously not, Wren. Can't bleed a blue blood dry for the same cause over and over," he says. "But they're good opportunities to network. See who makes an appearance. Be seen." He leers at you at this last. "You must like being seen, Wren, dressed like that."

Your nerves spike, and you tamp down on the fear before it can send a slice of acid cutting through your scent. Spinner is a predator, and he's focused on you. You risk eye contact again and see his pupils dilate as he takes a slow, measured breath. "Don't be too scared, Wren. I don't see the point of putting birds in cages." His smile is sharp, all teeth. Your omega is clawing at the back of your brain, desperate to be away and safe. Dancing with him was a mistake.

Just as you're about to turn around and leave him, Price's voice cuts through your spiraling panic. "Ren, we've got ya. Gaz is thirty feet away, and me, Ghost, Soap 'ave eyes and ears on the whole ballroom." It gives you the reminder you need to recenter.

Spinner can't touch you with your team here. The song ends and though Spinner grabs for your hand, you smile, pour some exhaustion into your scent, and say, "Thank you, Mr. Spinner, Albert, for the dance. Maybe another time?" You slip through a few people before you chance a look back. There's a rigid set to Spinner's shoulders as he makes his way back to the table he'd been using, and you see disappointment on the face of the woman waiting there.

You don't know if you made an enemy or not, but you're sure Laswell and the others seriously underestimate Spinner.

Two more hours pass before Price calls it. Spinner and the woman who had been at his table left the main ballroom an hour after your dance. Arella still hasn't made an appearance. "Get back upstairs," Price calls over the comms. "We'll break down and debrief wi' Laswell before headin' back to base."

The whole evening has felt off. You're still not entirely comfortable or confident with these kids of ops, but what gets you most tonight is Spinner's comments. If you had a mating mark, would he have been so bold? It almost feels like the universe is reminding you of the protection a pack would provide.

Laswell's understandably disappointed that Arella didn't show, and while she grumbles about the sheer volume of data her analysts will have to sift through, you don't miss the nod of respect she directs at you. You share what Spinner said about the other event he attended and the one he implied he would be at soon. "I don't know if it's anything, but he seems like the kind of man who isn't going to come to something like this if there isn't a reason, something he can gain from it," you say. She tells you she'll have someone cross check the Kensington event timeline with suspicious activity.

As Price ends the call, you slip into the room next door and pull the dress off, sliding it neatly onto the hanger and pulling the garment bag over it. You treat the jewelry the same way, carefully placing it back in its boxes. Maybe it can be reused? You have nowhere to wear it, but the thought of it on someone else pains you.

The standard issue shirt and trousers irritate you more than normal, your skin having so quickly acclimated to the soft caress of the dress. Between the five of you, the room is stripped and packed and ready to move in less than thirty minutes. Everyone carries multiple cases down a hallway that seems miles long. The service elevator ride to the transport feels interminable. After everything is loaded into the boot, with your dress draped gently on top, you pile into the rear seat with Soap and Gaz.

They feel so much closer to you than they did on the drive into London, encroaching on your space. You squirm in your seat, trying to get comfortable between them. Your clothes scratch across your skin every time you move. You know your frustration is bleeding into your scent and try desperately to tamp it down, ignoring the looks Soap and Gaz throw in your direction. Make it back to base, just make it back to base you tell yourself. Then you can figure out what has you so turned around.

What seems like hours later, surveillance equipment is dropped off, the truck is back in base transport, and you're finally back in your barracks. The ballroom didn't seem too hot at the time, and being stuck between the two sergeants was uncomfortable but not cloying. But it must have been warmer than you realized because you're sweating. You strip off your top and trousers, quickly rearranging the blankets and things on your bed. As you toss your clothes in the hamper, your eyes flick to the calendar on the wall.

Your heart stops, and the blood drains from your face.

The uncomfortable clothes. How long things seem to take, moments stretching out like molasses. Being overly warm. Fixing your blankets.

Your heat is coming. Quickly. Before panic settles in, you scramble into your clothes again and head out the door to Price's office. You need a conversation with your Captain. Now.

next

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[dreamerimpossible]

His reaction when you say someone else's name during sex.

Warnings: +18 content, unhealthy relationships, mentions of violence and death, dark content.

Characters: Mikey, Kazutora, Sanzu, Izana, Ran Haitani, Rindou Haitani, Kisaki, Hanma

Mikey

You'd have to be crazy. Did you forget that Mikey is the person who protects you from the other gangs doing something against you for being involved with him? Did you forget everything that Mikey has done for you? Well, he doesn't forget. He stops and looks at you with those empty eyes. On a particularly bad day, he tells you not to forget your place and who you're with, because he wouldn't have any problem showing you what it would be like to be a day without him and everything he provides for you. It scares you to see him with that look and that menacing voice. He doesn't look like your boyfriend; he looks like just a predator. After that, he's back to himself. Like nothing ever happened. Suddenly, people needed a reminder of how strong he was. You got it.

Kazutora

He becomes obsessive. He pushes you over and over against the surface, be it the bed, the wall, or the car, whatever. He asks you who that man is and why you're naming him. He screams at you and goes crazy. He gives you hickeys in his rage; you can feel his bites. You explain everything over and over again, but it doesn't seem to relax him at all. He runs around the city like a madman waiting for you to tell him who this man is and where he lives. It gets worse if you don't tell him. In your desperation, you take him to an alley and whisper sweet nothings to him that he refuses to believe at first. You tell him that he will know who the man is, but that you needed to apologize first. You gave him the sloppiest oral of your life, holding back the tears that came out of your eyes as you choked. He forgives you, but seriously, he still expects you to tell him who this man is.

Sanzu

Uh… what the fuck? No one would do that. But if you did, you would only be saved if he was drugged. He wouldn't notice, really; he would be on a terribly high adrenaline and only think about the feeling. Then, in the morning, he would have forgotten everything. However, if you catch him sober and lucid, you're lost. He tells you to explain clearly while he shows you his gun and leaves it on the mattress. It's an implicit threat, but quite functional. He doesn't think you simply want another man; he thinks you're cheating on him; that's why he goes so crazy. He can't stand being cheated on, even less when he never cheated on you. It would be unfair, and he wouldn't tolerate it. When you convince him, he's still angry, but a little less paranoid. He'd look at you closely, put a lot more "security" in you, and become more possessive. If you openly show that you like how much he "protects" you, he'll let his guard down, but not enough.

Izana

He gets dressed and leaves. Not before making a fuss and reproaching you for things you never did. His abandonment issues come to light, and it seems impossible to fix things with him. You don't even speak; you just listen and don't know what to do. Then he walks away and tells you to forget about him and that he doesn't want a bitch like you. Then you realize that the guy was hurt by a fight he had, and you know exactly who did it. He wouldn't look for you; he's proud; he ended the relationship that day. He doesn't like to feel left out or like a second choice. So you approach him and put up with some indifference, but there will come a time when he'll like to see you beg for him, letting you be with him conditionally for a while, just to test your behavior. and he'll miss having you. He lets you be with him conditionally for a while, just to test your behavior. If you do it right, he'll be nice to you again, but he'll always want you to introduce him to your friends and people close to you, even just acquaintances. Although, let's be honest, he was like that before.

Ran Haitani

You can see the confusion and pain in his eyes. He tries to cover it up by joking around a bit, but it hurts him, and it shows. The difference with the others is that he won't go crazy; he'll just wait for you to explain; he can actually be quite mature when he wants to. You explain it to him, and he understands, at least with you. You promise that you will make it up to him, and he will give you the chance. That same night you moan his name many times until he gets tired of hearing you. However, that man will not be spared from his cane. Sorry, not sorry.

Rindou Haitani

Pretty direct. He asks you what the hell is wrong with you and if you are cheating on him with someone else. You rush to tell him no and explain everything. He nods his head and says nothing more; he seems to have his same expression as always. He remains serious for the rest of the day; you try to get closer to him, but no progress seems to reach him. Don't worry; after a few days, he will be fine. He needs time. Afterwards he will prove himself and make you come many times. You make sure he has no doubts.

Kisaki

He gets dressed and leaves. He doesn't say anything to you. He doesn't even change his usual expression. The scary thing about him is that he only acts; he doesn't provoke or threaten. That makes you expect anything from him. He comes back the same way he left, unchanged, but his expression seems darker. You decide not to ask. You try to explain, but he doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t feel threatened by it anymore. How could he? There’s no one to confuse you anymore, no one alive, at least.

Hanma

He laughs at you, in disbelief. He might make you a little insecure too, which only made the fight escalate. There are no healthy reconciliations with Hanma; you should know that by now. You’ll get possessive every time he purposely teases you, and he’ll make a fuss every time you get together with a guy. That’s how it is. That seems to be “reconciliation.” There’s a lot of sex too and unhealthy ways to get out frustration. Hanma actually seems to enjoy toxicity.

[vestaignis]

Африканский морской лес назван одним из 7 чудес света.

Агентство Bloomberg опубликовало свой список новых семи чудес света,  в котором особо отмечены леса водорослей, известные также как Великий африканский морской лес.

Леса водорослей расположены всего в 16 км от Кейптауна, Южная Африка, это разнообразная и удивительная экосистема.Он состоит из келпа, особого вида бурых морских водорослей, которые вырастают до очень больших размеров. Они растут на дне океана и могут достигать в длину 46 метров. Эти водоросли хорошо растут на мелководье в чистой воде при низких температурах.

По мере роста водоросли формируются в то, что мы называем лесом. Африканский морской лес выполняет ту же функцию, что и их калифорнийский аналог, предоставляя пищу и убежище для множества морских обитателей, от промысловых видов, таких как омары, раки и морские ушки, до крупных хищников, таких как капский морской котик. Возможно, самым захватывающим аспектом Большого африканского морского леса является разнообразие видов акул, которые называют эти псевдодревесные среды домом.Этот лес являются домом для ряда редко встречающихся видов акул, включая харизматичную пижамную кошачью акулу и пугливую пятнистую овражную акулу. Между африканскими морскими лесами находятся потрясающие рифы с оврагами и протоками. 

African Sea Forest Named One of the 7 Wonders of the World.

Bloomberg has released its list of the New Seven Wonders of the World, and the kelp forests, also known as the Great African Sea Forest, are a special mention.

Located just 10 miles from Cape Town, South Africa, the kelp forests are a diverse and fascinating ecosystem. They are made up of kelp, a type of brown seaweed that grows to very large sizes. They grow on the ocean floor and can reach lengths of up to 150 feet. These seaweeds thrive in shallow, clear waters at low temperatures.

As the seaweeds grow, they form what we call a forest. The African Sea Forest serves a similar function to its Californian counterpart, providing food and shelter for a variety of marine life, from game species like lobsters, crayfish, and abalone to large predators like the Cape fur seal. Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of the Great African Sea Forest is the diversity of shark species that call these pseudo-arboreal environments home. The forest is home to a number of rarely seen shark species, including the charismatic pyjama catshark and the shy spotted gully shark. Between the African Sea Forests are stunning reefs with gullies and channels.

Источник://www.getyourguide.ru/keiptaun-l103/keiptaun-snorkling-s-gidom-v-bol-shom-afrikanskom-morskom-lesu-t433018/, /www. epochtimes.ru/afrikanskij-morskoj-les-nazvan-odnim-iz-7-chudes-sveta-99111276/?utm_referrer=https%3A%2F%2F www.google. com %2F, //apexpredators.com/ru/kelp-forest-dive/, /klau.club/23406-les-vodoroslej.html, //www.myguidecapetown.com/ru/Опыт/Кейптаун-снорклинг-с-гидом-в-Большом-африканском-морском-лесу.