#field evaluation

[hee-blee-art]

I couldn't wait any longer to share my (work-in-progress) audio fiction project, Field Evaluation!

Field Evaluation is the story of Joseph Viscount, a field evaluator with the Fortuna North Research Facility who investigates claims of anomalous phenomena. Specialising in a particular anomaly called The Liminal, Joseph seeks out abandoned, uncanny, and inexplicable places to determine if there is anything to the superstitions that surround them.

You can learn more about Field Evaluation on my projects page linked below and stay tuned here and on @cleaverdream for updates and more!

[CW: Heavy unreality, paranoia, horror & unsettling themes]

[sunriseverse]

honestly i Try not to overgeneralise and keep in mind that fields are diverse and i don’t Like calling academics stodgy and resistant to talking outside of hegemonic understandings of their field but what the fuck else am i meant to do when the fandom studies prof teaching the fandom studies class can’t find a single paper to assign about gl and all the bl readings she assigns won’t shut up about how straight women find sexual liberation from reading m/m erotica. grow a spine and talk about gay people especially gay women.

[redwinesupern0va]

Forced to use generative AI by an assignment but turned assignment into launching point for my vitriol against ai :))))

[thebrainofocto]

Ayooo more oc

My Nautolan boy Lilian, an aspiring librarian and archivist learning under master Nu

[some-teeth-in-a-trench-coat]

One edge is on the x axis and offset from the origin on the y axis by the apothem. The side length allows us to know the exact coordinates of its vertices. We know the interior angle of the vertex figure as well.

We can rotate around the x axis with a vertex as the center in order to find the edge's second face, but how do we find the axis of the next edge to rotate around? Perhaps we can use the interior angle of the face to find the second edge of the vertex and rotate that vector as we do the face in order to follow its movement and define the next axis.

Carry through the loop a "previous axis" (axis a) socket along with the "current axis" (axis b). Initialize axis a as (1,0,0) rotated about the z axis by the interior angle to align with the adjacent edge and initialize axis b as simply (1,0,0). Rotate the face about axis b and let b plug into a. Rotate a about axis b and let the result plug into b. Repeat n-1 times where n is the number of vertices in the vertex figure.

Sure yeah I'll solve my geometry nodes issues lying in bed half awake instead of while actually having the thing in front of me.

[treecakes]

didn’t realize this deadline was approaching quickly lol SENDING EMAILS. and follow up emails. stressed out now.

[shrekgogurt]

penelope bunce cursed (blessed?) with the brain of an american quarterback

[aeide-thea]

so i went to reblog some fanart earlier and started to tag it #oh this is. incredible actually, and then paused and thought, @‍self why the 'actually.' what is that adverb conveying. and i contemplated it for a bit, and finally concluded: well, shit. it's reflexive deprecation.

the thing is, deprecation is my starting position pretty much always, and that's a problem in itself, but mostly my problem; but when you're talking abt somebody else's work, and you start backing defensively away from imagined negativity before anyone's even actually voiced any? you may think you're playing bodyguard, but in reality you're the vanguard of the assault, opening a wedge for enemy forces to strike.

i was talking a couple of weeks ago abt seeing ppl tag that kristin sue lucas name-multiplied-by-one post with tags like 'this is art To Me' vel sim., and honestly i think it's a similar sort of reflex—i think exposure to the tumblr vernacular often leads people (very much including me!) to produce turns of phrase like this, that ultimately serve to convey roughly

'i, a clever girlblogger,¹ am, yeah, engaging with this frivolous hai pollai²-coded material; but my relationship to it, unlike that of most she-ple, is Intellectual and Analytical and Examined! and to make that clear, i'll be dropping in these little verbal particles from time to time, in order to distinguish my own, elevated examination of the subject from the state of risible naivete³ i'm implicitly ascribing to the other, more ordinary audience members i'm conjuring up only to instantly put down—but like, it's fine, i'm a free-and-easy girlblogger(TM), so you can't think i'd ever deliberately propagate establishmentarian prejudices! never mind the effect my rhetoric might subconsciously be having, on me or on anyone else…'

and i think this framing is worth squinting at, and worth attempting to excise from one's speech and from one's mindset, because when you get right down to it? it's just yet another insidious manifestation of respectability politics, that's gotten people to adopt it via the cuckoo-chick strategy of positioning itself as cutesy tumblr idiolect.

and like, circling back around to that fanart i mentioned at the outset: yeah, the tag did feel weirdly prosodically truncated to me without that 'actually'! but this way, if the artist ends up seeing my discussion of their work in their notes, they won't be getting slapped in the face with a wet dead fish first, so like. what's more important, you know?

⸻ ¹ ""(gender neutral)"" ² https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hoi_polloi in the feminine, if i haven't totally fumbled my declensions… ³ phrasing nicked from a comment of @‍proudheron's.

[wilsons-hotlittleprettyboymouth]

Reddit is genuinely hell I posted in the long covid sub about how ever since having my 5th bout of covid I’ve felt pretty much nothing and I’m still doing activities and stuff but I feel numb and blunt and like my emotions are buried under 6 ft of snow and I replied to a comment saying this isn’t anhedonia I know what it feels like and now I woke up to a cascade of downvotes and comments berating me for challenging everyone else’s definition of anhedonia and being condescending blah blah blah

When the whole time I wasn’t challenging their definition, I was saying I don’t have what their definition is. Now I get why no one trusts the entire field of psychology, psych professionals are pompous and self important and outright belligerent about it sometimes.

Anyway, thanks to the single person who said “it sounds like what op has is emotional blunting rather than anhedonia” and was ignored by every other person in the thread

[carpe-mamilia]

AI often confidently hallucinates references that are inaccurate or completely made up.

(via the author, at the Ex Bird place)

[productsafetyinc]

The Importance of Field Evaluations for Structural Integrity

Field evaluations are crucial for assessing the condition of various structures, such as buildings, bridges, and other infrastructure. These evaluations help identify potential issues, assess safety, and ensure that structures comply with local building codes. Whether you are dealing with a commercial or residential property, Field Evaluations Miami or Field Evaluation Services Boston Grove can provide valuable insights into the health and longevity of your property. Regular field evaluations are essential for maintaining safety and preventing costly repairs in the future.

What is a Field Evaluation?

A field evaluation is an on-site inspection conducted by experienced professionals who assess the physical condition of a structure. During the evaluation, experts will examine the integrity of the building's foundation, walls, roofing, and other critical elements. Field Evaluations Miami and Field Evaluation Services Boston Grove are designed to provide a comprehensive analysis of a structure’s stability and identify any risks, such as structural weaknesses, water damage, or deterioration, that could impact the building’s safety. These evaluations are particularly important for older properties or buildings that have been exposed to extreme weather conditions.

Why Are Field Evaluations Necessary?

Field evaluations play an important role in detecting issues that may not be immediately visible to the untrained eye. Problems such as shifting foundations, water damage, or wear and tear over time can compromise the structural integrity of a building, leading to costly repairs or even safety hazards. By engaging Field Evaluations Miami or Field Evaluation Services Boston, property owners can catch these issues early and take preventive measures to avoid significant damage in the future. Regular evaluations also help ensure that a structure complies with building codes, which can be important for insurance purposes or when selling a property.

Types of Issues Identified During Field Evaluations

A variety of issues can be identified during a field evaluation. Some of the most common problems include foundation cracks, roof leaks, improper drainage, and structural weaknesses. Field Evaluation Services Boston Grove or Field Evaluations Miami will assess these elements in detail to determine if any repairs or improvements are necessary. In addition to structural concerns, field evaluations also address safety hazards such as mold, asbestos, or other environmental factors that could impact the health of those living or working in the building.

Benefits of Field Evaluations

The primary benefit of field evaluations is the early identification of potential problems, which can save property owners both time and money. By addressing issues before they escalate, homeowners and business owners can avoid expensive repairs and ensure the long-term durability of their structures. Additionally, regular evaluations help maintain compliance with building codes and safety regulations, which can be essential for insurance purposes or for meeting local government requirements. Whether you’re dealing with a new construction project or an older building, Field Evaluations Miami or Field Evaluation Services Boston Grove provides peace of mind by ensuring that your property remains safe and sound.

When to Schedule a Field Evaluation

Field evaluations should be scheduled regularly, especially for older structures or those located in areas prone to extreme weather conditions. If you notice visible damage, such as cracks in the walls or foundation, or if you are planning to make significant renovations or purchase a property, it’s important to schedule an evaluation. Additionally, property owners should consider Field Evaluations Miami or Field Evaluation Services Boston Grove when seeking to update or remodel their buildings, as evaluations can help ensure that any new construction work is safe and compliant with regulations.

Conclusion

In conclusion, field evaluations are an essential service for ensuring the safety, integrity, and longevity of structures. Whether you are in Miami or Boston Grove, investing in Field Evaluations Miami or Field Evaluation Services Boston Grove can help identify potential issues early, prevent costly repairs, and maintain the value of your property. Regular evaluations offer peace of mind and help ensure that your building remains safe, secure, and structurally sound for years to come.

[k12academics]

Our team of experts in public health, epidemiology, biostatistics, health services, and data analysis to provide customized research services that deliver measurable results. We work closely with our clients to understand their unique challenges and help them unlock the potential of their data. Whether you're a healthcare professional, public health administrator, or researcher, our tailored solutions ensure that your data leads to impactful results.

[thespacesay]

also even in the sciences, that's not always good advice. it's absolutely worth looking into more recent publications, but everyone is citing older things. you're gonna want to check what older things they cite as relevant, and sometimes you end up ten citations deep and find that everyone cited someone else citing a paper from the 40s... with someone just claiming something and no citation as to why. Good research involves fact checking, and you have to consider if the new science has fundamentally sound footing too.

it does make me laugh when general purpose academic advice is like "all citations must be RECENT, if it's over ten years old it's probably been superseded" and it's like. maybe in sciences bro but over here i still regularly have to cite stuff from the 19th century because nobody has written on the topic since

[channel1600]

Misinformation and medicine

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

◌ I finally met with a psychologist, and it was one of the worst experiences of my life. Fortunately, I can say it was not because it simply “didn’t work for me.” Rather, the psychologist in question was extremely biased and unqualified to evaluate me. I want to be surprised that it went the way it did, but I can’t say I am. Psychology is really a scary topic as a black person because of the lack of intersectionality. It hurt a bit more considering my psychologist was black, too. All said, I won’t talk about the evaluation, no matter how unprofessional it was. I will, however, show a mock article I wrote out of anger:

“Psychology is a complex study and like every other science there’s always more to learn. That also means not all the information is accurate the first time around. Does this mean we can’t trust experts in the field of psychology? No, of course not, but it does mean we need to be willing to challenge them and test their knowledge.

In no circumstance is someone more educated on a topic they research in their free time than a professional with a diploma. Unless, this professional’s information is outdated and wrong in the current time’s standards. Spreading misinformation, even if unintentional, can inevitability harm their reputation.

Let’s take a look at an example, you take yourself to the doctor and explain your diet troubles, under the assumption you have an overeating disorder. You eat whenever you feel any strong emotions as a coping mechanism, but it feels out of your control and unmanageable. The doctor takes one look at you, doesn’t even ask questions, and tells you simply, “You lack impulse control, but overeating isn’t a disorder.”

According to today’s medical science we know that eating disorders aren’t just an avoidance of foods. The doctor is incorrect, obviously, but why don’t they seem to know they’re incorrect? Medical professionals can unfortunately be misinformed and ignorant of it. While a scary truth, it’s reality.

This scenario is even more common for conditions that are generally less known about or haven’t been properly researched until recently. Not only is information spread slower with newer research, the old research is the main source in use. More often than not, minorities’ health isn’t prioritized throughout history, so this old research could easily be on a group of people that don’t fit their description at all. And if doctors aren’t given good information how can they give good diagnoses? The answer is they can’t.”

◌ It’s not perfect by any means as I have no credibility, obviously. Though, I am happy I could communicate a topic in such a thoughtful way, so I might take this up as a hobby.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Far Cry Cradle.

Pairing: Yandere!Lilia x Reader (TWST).

Word Count: 4.1k.

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Somnophilia, Kidnapping, Slight Breeding Kink, Infantilization/Dehumanization, and Implied Pregnancy. Slight Spoilers for Book Seven.

Humans were skittish creatures.

Lilia knew that better than most, but even if he hadn’t, it would’ve been plain to see. Their soldiers required battle cries and marching songs to keep their nerve on the field, their royalty barricaded themselves behind gates of iron and castles of brick, and even the lowliest among them fell back on rumor and superstition to vent their anxiety, telling each other tales of heroes and villains and treachery and valiance as to best root a bit of bravery in one another where they’d failed to plant it in themselves. It was an admirable effort – albeit, a misplaced one. There were things in the world worth being afraid of. Trying to forget that was as foolish as succumbing to it.

You were a skittish creature, certainly. Your condition was no worse than that of the state he found you in, and yet, your trembling had only grown more violent, your muffled noises quickly becoming too pitiful to ignore. It’d been a struggle just to get you back to his cottage, and you’d scrambled into the smallest, darkest possible corner as soon as he’d let you go. It was a miracle you didn’t make a break for the door. At least he knew that, whatever you thought he was going to do to you, it couldn’t have been worse than whatever you’d encountered in the for—

“Please don’t eat me.”

Your voice, cracked and hoarse, brought his attention back to you. He sighed, pushing himself away from the wall and ebbing closer until he stood in front of you. Despite your brazenness, you shied away, sinking that much deeper into your corner. He wondered how long you’d stay there. Any more than a few hours, and he might start to worry.

“I’m going to… eat you?”

A sharp inhale, followed quickly by a shaky nod. “I—In my village, they used to say nocturnal fae considered human flesh to be a delicacy,” you managed, in time. Lilia had to bite back a laugh. “I don’t want to be eaten. If you have to kill me, I’d understand, but I don’t want to be—”

“Relax.” It was more of an order than he meant it to be. Instantly, you went rigid, pulling your knees into your chest and staring at him, doe eyed.

With your panic momentarily thrown into paralysis, he took a moment to evaluate you. You really were in bad shape. Fresh bruises and cuts lined your bare arms and legs, and your clothing had been torn, mended, then torn again. You carried no supplies, but judging from the defensive edge to your posture, the extent of your distress, you’d been fending for yourself for quite a while. Most worryingly, you were barefoot. Wandering through unfamiliar terrain, hungry and cold, was unpleasant. Wandering through unfamiliar terrain, hungry and cold and forced out of comfort so suddenly, you didn’t have time to grab even the most obvious of essentials, was significantly more unpleasant.

He cleared his throat, then fell into a crouch, lowering himself to your height. “Why are you in Briar Valley?”

Your answer came quickly, reflexively. “I was lost.”

“Alright, what were you doing when you got lost?”

This time, your response was less easily provided. “.. picking berries?”

Perfect. You didn’t have nerve to meet his eyes, but lying to his face didn’t seem to cause you so much strife.

Surprisingly, you spoke up without prompting, uncurling slightly. “Are you going to let me go?”

Lilia grit his teeth. Letting you go would be a bad idea, not only because it was the dead of winter and travelling just about anywhere in your state was a death sentence. You were fickle, and nervous, and more than a little disoriented, but you were human, too, and he was in sore need of one of those.

“No,” and then, rolling his eyes as you let out another keening whimper, “For two reasons. Firstly, it’s winter, you’re injured, and if I let you go back out there, you’d only get yourself killed. Secondly, I need—”

As if rehearsed, an ear-piercing cry broke through the cottage’s quiet, immediately replacing any semblance of peace with a misery that outmatched yours ten-fold. Lilia, as exhausted as he’d ever been on the battlefield, let his head fall, forcing himself to take a deep breath before soldiering on. “I have a son,” he said, only just managing to speak over the child’s wailing. “You’ll be taking care of him, during your time here.”

In retrospect, he could’ve been nicer about it – less brisk, more accommodating, leaning more towards a suggestion than a command. But, it wasn’t in his nature to ask questions where he could dull out orders, and if the idea of childrearing was as aversive to you as that of admitting where you hailed from, you did a decent job of masking it. If anything, your expression seemed to soften, your eyes darting in the direction of Silver’s nursery. For the first time since he’d found you, you managed to say something half-way rational.

“…can I meet him?”

Lilia considered it. Waiting until tomorrow morning may have been wiser. You’d have a chance to gather yourself, and he could tend to Silver on his own in the meantime, ready the child to meet someone other than Malleus and himself. It was probably the more considerate thing to do, the smarter thing to do, but the wailing grew louder, and your eyes caught the dim moonlight in a way that almost made you seem eager, and with a rasped sigh, he stood to his full height, signaling for you to do the same. “For a minute or so. He ought to be asleep, by now.”

He turned away from you, and without a word, you scrambled to your feet, tripping over yourself to follow after him.

~

Humans were sentimental things.

Strangely so. Inexplicably so. Silver had warmed to him immediately, sure, but he’d been a newborn at the time, willing to love anyone who could coo his name and make lights in pretty colors dance on their fingertips. Adults had fewer excuses. Baur’s new son-in-law was rumored to have fallen in love with his now-wife the first time he laid eyes on her, and you…

You could’ve loved a dried patch of thistle, so long as it needed your help.

Lilia made a habit of watching you, generally speaking, but he made sure to hover a little closer whenever you had Silver in your arms – which you almost always did, these days. It was clear that your experience was limited, but you took to childrearing like a fish took to water; dedicating yourself to tending to Silver’s needs as you would’ve your own flesh and blood. Currently, you were sitting by the fire in an age-old rocking chair, bouncing him on one knee and balancing an open book on the other, doing your best to read out some nonsensical fairytale to an unruly audience of one. Or, two, he supposed. He was catching more of it than he’d like to.

When you got to the part about the princess being woken up from an eternal sleep by true love’s kiss, he cut in. “If those are the kind of stories you’ll be telling the boy, it might be better not to speak to him at all.”

Your fear of him seemed to fade more and more with every passing sunrise. Now, you only responded to his chiding with a chime of a laugh, a quick shake of your head. “Talking to children is important. It doesn’t matter what you say, so long as they hear your voice.” You paused, leaning just a little closer to Silver. “Plus, it means you’re going to love me way more than your dad when you’re older. By then, you’ll already know he’s no fun.”

By way of reply, Silver clapped merrily and curled a tiny first around your sleeve. You shot Lilia a triumphant smirk. “See? He’s already playing favorites.”

Lilia pursed his lips. “He never seemed to mind being along with me.”

“Only because he didn’t know any better. You were trying to nurse him on wine, and—”

“Fruit juice,” he corrected.

“Fermented fruit juice. In other words, wine.” Almost protectively, you gathered Silver in your arms, propping him against your shoulder. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to say his name more, either. You should get into the habit while he’s still too young to remember being called ‘the boy’.”

At that, Lilia turned away entirely, huffing. He knew you were right. He’d known that when he named Silver, when he decided he was fit to raise a child with a face he still saw in his darkest dreams. Still, to love a child unconditionally and to be a father were two very different things. He was currently stumbling through the latter, but accomplishing the former was proving more difficult than he would ever care to admit aloud.

With a sigh, he edged closer to you, perching himself on the arm of your chair. “May I hold him?”

You feigned reluctance, but didn’t put up a fight. Silver was passed from one pair of hands to another, and Lilia held the child in his lap. “Silver,” he muttered, bringing up a hand to pinch his cheek gently. Good-tempered as always, Silver stared at him wide-eyed, as if in anticipation. “My first son was much more durable. Then again, he did have the decency to hatch from an egg.”

“That actually explains a lot about Malleus.” You straightened abruptly, clapping your hands together. “Oh, and we’re running low on powdered milk. You should ask him to pick some up, if he plans on visiting this week.”

 It was Lilia’s turn to laugh, now – not at anything you’d said, but at his own early misconception. He’d been too embarrassed to say anything after your hasty correction, but now, the confession came more easily, more naturally. “Honestly, I thought that’d be less of a problem with you here. I suppose I was under the impression that humans can make their own.”

A beat passed, then another. When he glanced toward you, he found your head bowed, a prominent flush spread over most of your face. It was cute, in a vulnerable sort of way. Lilia took longer than he should’ve to look away. “…some humans can. Only after they’ve had, uh, a child of their own first, though.” You shrugged. “There are a lot of conditions that have to be met before it’s something you really have to worry about, I guess.

“And you haven’t met those conditions, yet?”

Your blush darkened. “No, I haven’t.”

Ah.

On second thought, you weren’t very doe-like after all. Even a deer would’ve had more talent when it came to hiding its expression.

You were quick to divert your attention, pushing yourself to your feet and smoothing over your skirt. “The sun is setting and I’m getting hungry. Could you watch Silver while I start dinner?”

“I was actually thinking I could—”

“I’d rather starve.”

~

Humans were confounding things.

Emotional, irrational, ineffective. Pleasure and comfort were put above survival in almost every circumstance, hierarchy was treated as more of suggestion than a rule, and attachments could be formed to anything your unknowable minds deemed worth pitying. The weather grew warmer, the snowstorms fewer and further between, and yet, the idea of you leaving was never revisited. He wasn’t especially eager to broach the topic either, but Lilia had a good reason to want to keep you nearby, to make sure Silver had another set of eyes to watch over him. The same couldn’t be said for you.

“Mind if I join you?”

He glanced up and, of course, found the source of his misery. The picture was perfect; the set that of his cottage painted in the colors of dusk, the focus you dressed in the simple dress and apron gifted to you by Malleus. There was a low huff, a shallow nod, and you crossed the shallow stream, setting yourself next to him where he kneeled. “Silver just fell asleep,” you explained. “I’d give it a good hour or so before he so much as stirs. That kid could sleep through a war if he wanted to.”

“I think he might’ve,” Lilia muttered. You only laughed, leaning into his side.

“So,” you started, peering into the steam, empty save for the occasional chunk of ice drifting on the current. “What are we looking at?”  

“Lost in thought, that’s all. There won’t be anything worth looking at until Spring.” He sighed. “I suppose you’ll have returned to your proper home, by then.”

To your credit, you only faltered for a fraction of a moment – catching yourself before you let so much as your sweet, simpering smile fall away. A lesser man may not have noticed it, but Lilia was not a lesser man.

“Do you want me to leave?”

No. He’d give an arm and leg to keep you here. He’d let it snow through Spring, Summer and Fall. He’d teach Silver how to cry whenever you so much as thought about a home outside of his cottage. There were few things he wouldn’t do, if it meant you never left.

“I might be old, but I’m not delusional.” He forced himself to chuckle, the loud airy and only somewhat strained. “There’s some place you belong, some place you came from, and I don’t think it’s in this valley. It’d be selfish of me to keep you any longer than you ought to stay.”

He made a point of not looking at you, his gaze focused on the lining the streambed. There was a long exhale, then a hollow thud as you fell back – collapsing to the half-frozen ground. Just barely above a whisper, you admitted, “I like it here, Lilia.”

“Surely there are things from your own world that you miss.”

“Not as many as you’d think.”

“Comforts, then. I’ve heard wonderful things about electricity.”

“I’m plenty comfortable already. More than I ever was back home.”

“There has to be someone you miss, (Y/n).”

He heard the grass rustle as you rolled onto your side. When he stole a glance in your direction, he saw that you’d left your back to him. “Yeah.” And then, after a long moment, “I guess there should be.”

In an act of either sympathy or cowardice, he gave you time, allowed you space. Long seconds passed before you pulled yourself upright, letting your hands fall into your lap with a weary sigh. “I’ll leave on the first day of Spring,” you decided. “Before you forget how to take care of Silver on your own.”

“He’s still my son, you know.”

“Sure.” And just like that, you were back to beaming. This time, Lilia couldn’t stand to tear his eyes away from you.

“But I’m always going to behis favorite.”

~

Humans were softened things.

You, more so than most. Your skin felt like milkweed and velvet where his calloused fingers grazed over it, growing softer the farther up he travelled. There was still a winter chill in the air, but the weather was warming steadily, and at some point during the night, you’d kicked your quilts and blankets to the side, leaving you sheltered by only a cloth sleeping gown with sleeves prone to slipping down your shoulders and a skirt eager to pool around your waist. Any other night, Lilia might’ve rolled his eyes, lit the hearth in your bedroom, and left you to your own devices. Another other night, but not tonight.

It was strange, the way he loved you. He’d loved Maleanor, and a part of him always would, but that’d been different. To love Maleanor had been to love a force of nature; a storm as untouchable as it was destructive. He was never going to have her, and in a certain way, he’d always known that. You were different. You weren’t Maleanor. You weren’t distant, or untouchable, or destructive. He already had you.

All he had to do was make sure you couldn’t get away.

He’d expected there to be more guilt, more resignation. Instead, there was only relief as he propped a knee on the edge of your bed, rested a hand next to your sleeping face, allowed himself to ebb and sway closer to you until he was positioned in the space between your legs, his chest nearly pressing into yours. His gaze never left your expression; panicked and contorted, not completely unlike the face you’d worn when he first brought you home. Poor thing. You were having a nightmare.

Removing your dress came first. You were a fitful sleeper, prone to waking at the slightest disturbance, but he wasn’t green to delicate work. You whimpered as he dragged a pointed talon from your collar to your navel, but didn’t stir, didn’t shift, didn’t do anything that might’ve stopped him from bringing his mouth to your collarbone and pressing a feather-soft kiss into the base of your throat, the curve of your chest, the last blue-ringed bruise you carried from the night you met. A selfish, territorial part of him hoped it would never fade, that you’d always carry a mark connecting back to him. A more optimistic, more reasonable faction reminded him that he could simply make more.

His mouth wandered in time with his thoughts. He was careful, cautious as he curled his hands around your thighs, kneading with as much force as he could risk. You were beautiful in your obedience; spreading your legs reflexively, letting out a soft, breathy noise as Lilia settled into the now-open space. The thin fabric of your panties gave away as easily as your gown had, and Lilia’s patience reached its breaking point. Weary of his fangs, he bowed his head and—

Ah.

Humans were sweet, too.

And reactive. Even unconscious, you responded to each hasty swipe and drag of his tongue with a moan, a whine, a mewl so pitiful and so heartbreaking, the idea of ever letting you travel beyond his sight suddenly seemed irresponsible, cruel, unfair to a creature so delicate, it could hardly stand imagine itself to be unwanted. He sighed, letting his hands drift to your waist as he lapped over your clit, as eager to pleasure you as he was to drink in the fruits of his labor. It wasn’t long before your sleep turned restless, your body shifting underneath him in an attempt to escape unfamiliar stimulation. When he refused to let you go so easily, you reacted on instinct; snapping your thighs shut around his head and drawing out a low, reverberating grown from your willing victim.

More. That was what you must’ve wanted – more. He buried himself that much deeper in his task, nuzzling into the inside of your thigh as his tongue spread you open, curling against the walls of your cunt, seeking out anything sensitive, anything vulnerable, anything to make your hips buck into his mouth and your thighs shake where they were still trapped in his hands. He let his teeth scrape over the tender junctions between your thighs, and when that wasn’t enough, ground the bridge of his nose into your clit. Admittedly, it was messy effort; too hasty for your first time. He was tempted to chide himself for being so overly enthusiastic, but the awareness that this was only the first time of countless was enough of a comfort to spur him on.

It wasn’t long before he felt you tense underneath him, sucking in a harsh breath as your cunt clenched around his tongue. He nursed you through your climax (your first ever climax, he chose to believe) until your little whines had turned to near-pained whimpers, until he could no longer stand to limit himself to simply rutting against cold, lifeless bedding. With one more fleeting kiss to the apex of your hip, he pushed himself onto his knees and took to aligning the leaking head of his cock with your entrance, now dripping with arousal and spit. His gaze fixed on your peaceful expression, he thrust into you, no longer patient enough to be quite so gentle.

It was in a state of unparalleled bliss that the watched your eyes snap open, immediately finding him. Your lips parted, a scream already rising in your throat, but he forced his hand over your mouth before it could surface. It wouldn’t do to wake Silver, not at a time like this.

“Easy, love, easy,” he cooed. Your only response was a wince, a twist, a ragged sob reverberating against his palm. He might’ve been offended, had he not been able to feel you growing warmer, growing tighter around his length. “I apologize if there’s any pain. Can you try and relax for me?”

Apparently not. Your hands found their way to his chest, clawing frantically thought the thin material of his tunic. You tried to move his legs, too, but he was quick to put a stop to that, leaning his weight against you and pinning you to the bed. A bit selfishly, he took the opportunity to press his chest to yours, his hips to yours, to root himself that much deeper into you. It was paradise, the way you clung to him. He could only wonder why he didn’t realize how precious you were sooner.

“Easy,” he repeated, more breathlessly. “Would you rather I restrain you?”

The clawing stopped immediately. After a moment, he felt you shake your head.

“And you don’t want to end up hurting yourself, now, do you?”

Another shake, this one more trepid than the first.

“Then listen to me.” He rested his chin on your shoulder, careful not to raise his voice. “Make all the noise you want, but don’t scream. I’m not afraid of seeking out more permanent solutions.”

That was enough to get you to stop moving entirely. He held you close for a second, then another, before pulling away. True to your word (or lack thereof), you kept quiet, catching your bottom lip in your teeth and shutting your eyes so tightly, he could almost believe you no longer cared to look at him. With an airy laugh, he rested a hand next to your head and started to move.

It was your first time. It had to be. If you’d had any experience at all, you wouldn’t have responded to every slow, sentimental thrust with such adorable squeaking, wouldn’t have clung to the sheets with such a heartbreaking desperation. With your compliance ensured, he tried to be delicate, to give you time to adjust, but you made it difficult not to seek out the reactions you seemed so ready to provide. You made it hard not to use more force than he should’ve, not to root himself deeper than he should’ve, not to grind and rut and fuck like some drooling animal, caught up in its own heat. He could tell you were trying to ignore him, but even that had to break, eventually; your hands shooting to his shoulders as he lost his pace, your nails digging into his skin as he found something more substantial, something bordering on rabid. This time, he welcomed your violence. It was the least he could do, to help ground his distraught little love.

“You’re going to stay here.” He didn’t realize he’d meant to say anything aloud until he heard his own voice, low and drawn-out, playing just above your miserable whines and pleasured moans. “You’ll never have to leave. You’ll belong here. You already belong with me.”

“I don’t—”

“You won’t have a choice,” he assured, the comfort in his voice thick and prone to clotting. “Not after tonight.”

He watched horror flash across your expression, then something else, something he couldn’t quite name. It didn’t matter. His lips were already crashing into yours, dragging you into a kiss put off for far, far too long. Light flashed behind his eyes, and some unnamable tether drawn taut inside of him finally snapped. With his hips pressed flush to yours, he stilled and came undone. You followed a moment later, milking him for all he had.

For minutes, it was all he could do to stay trapped there; your warm body pressed into his, your stifled crying the only sound filling the empty space. When he did break from his trance, it was with an airy laugh, a brush of his cheek against yours before he dipped lower, taking shelter in the crook of your neck. Whether or not you could hear him was irrelevant. You’d have plenty of time to listen, from now on.

“You’re going to be a perfect mother.”

[theonion]

Calling the findings of its comprehensive survey of American workplace practices “total bullshit,” the Institute for Research on Labor and Employment issued a report Monday concluding that you should be able to retire after, like, six years of working full time. “We evaluated the data around current U.S. employment rates, and our research shows that it’s basically crazy that we have to waste our whole damn lives working before we can retire,” said report co-author Sarah Middleton, who explained that six years is actually a really long time and that it sounds like more than enough labor for one person. “Our research found that people have to work and stuff or else nothing would get done, but anything more than half a decade or so seems cruel and excessive. That has to be hundreds of hours of work, right? And after consulting with experts across the field, we determined that six years was a totally reasonable amount of time to pay your dues before you get to kick back and chill.

Full Story