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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 9 months

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#374

“Hey! Midnight bathroom run too? Yeah. I knew I shouldn’t have let my wife’s mother book this tiny inn in the middle of nowhere Germany for my honeymoon. I live in a three-bedroom apartment in Manhattan two blocks from Central Park, and now I have to share a toilet. I would gladly pay for a suite at a five-star hotel, but my wife likes it. Whoever came up with “Happy wife happy life” should be shot. "This jet lag sucks. This is my second night here in Europe, and I haven’t shaken it. How about you?... You’re here a week? Wow. It looks like we will be competing for the toilet for a number of days. It’s us and him in there. That Argentinian has been in there for a bit. I see the toothbrush in your hand; when he comes out, you can go ahead of me, as long as you are fast; I’m going to be spending some time in there. It seems that the only way I can get to sleep is to enjoy my left hand….

“I see you smiling. You know what I’m talking about…. Don’t be shy about it. All guys do it.

“And the best part is as I get close, I turn on the bidet and let the warm water run across my shithole. It’s not quite like a tongue diving in deep. I haven’t had my ass eaten out in years….

“…You a faggot?... Your silence makes me wonder that you might be, but your dick tenting in your robe tells me everything. Open your robe and let me see….

“Just as I thought. You want help me go to sleep? Good. Let’s go in your room. You can brush your teeth afterwards and wash away the taste of my shithole….

“Now we are behind closed doors, you can lose the robe…. Damn you are a small fag. How tall are you?... I have a foot on you; I’m 6’5”. How much do you weigh?... I’m 290, twice your weight. You are the size of the faggots I used to use back in grad school at Columbia. I like them small. I hope you like to be manhandled. Don’t care if you don’t.

“Get on your knees fag. Go on reach in. Take my cock out. Even soft, I’m bigger than your tiny four-inch pecker. Hard, I more than double you.

“It’s clear that there is only one man in this room, and it ain’t you. There is only one cock in this room; yours is to be ignored. You got that?... Fag, you got that?...

“That’s ‘Yes Sir.’ I saw the hunger on your face in the hall when I mentioned that I loved a tongue in my shithole. I’ve noticed the few times you’ve been checking me out as our paths crossed. It’s the same hunger I saw on my bitch boys I used on the side when I was in grad school. They saw a big man with a big dick, and they did whatever I wanted. I see that hunger on your face now, and I’m expecting the same from you.

“You drink piss…. That wasn’t a question. Open your toilet mouth…. Take my head in. Fuck yeah. Relax and start swallowing…. Ahh, that feels so good. You are a natural.

“Is your cunt cleaned out? Probably not. If you can handle my cock in your throat, I’ll be back tomorrow night to sample that cunt. Here sit on the floor with your head against the wall.

“I want to tell you how to get me to cum. Like I said, I was going to use the bidet to not only to clean my shithole but to make my hole feel good. Your tongue is taking over that responsibility.

“I haven’t had a shower since this morning, and I’ve been out all day in the sun. My crack is going to reek. I know you won’t mind.

“Place a hand on each of my thighs. Take a deep breath. Now pay attention. Your tongue needs to be inside my shithole pretty much all the time…. Like that. Fuck yeah. Don’t be alarmed if I fart on your faggot face. It’s bound to happen.

“Damn! Fuck! Your tongue is digging deep. Faggot you know how to eat a man’s shithole. Oh man. I’m getting close. But I need to sample that throat.

“Fuck. Hold that faggot head against the wall and open up that throat, cause I’m going right down to your stomach, all nine inches to the root.

“Take it faggot! Take it! I don’t care if you gag, gasp, or even puke all over me, you are fucking taking it. Open up that throat, dedicate that airway to me. Oh fuck. That’s it faggot.

“When I’m ready to cum, it’s with your tongue in my shithole, and I want you jacking me off. And I’m getting close. Oh yeah! I’m going to turn around real fast. So close. Hell the fuck yeah. Get that tongue ready. Ready? Now!

“…Spread my cheeks and get that tongue inside me and start fucking with it. Now reach under me and jack me off. Fuck boy. I’m going to cum. Keep doing what you are doing. Urg! Uh! Uh! Fuck! Fuck yeah!

“Oh man. No one told you to stop. Keep tongue fucking and jacking me. Milk the last drops out and let them fall.

“Faggot you did good. I’m want to do this every night…. Ok… Ok… You can stop.

“Whew boy. Hand me my underwear. And your pillow too. The pillow is to wipe up your throat slime and remaining cum drops from my dick. The other side is to wipe my ass. When you go to sleep, you can smell me.

“Whew, that was a huge load on the floor. Start licking…. Don’t give me that look again, or I will smack you again. That load puddled on your floor should be gold to you. Lap it up or suck it up, I don’t care.

“Hell, you can even jack off while doing that, once I’m gone. I don’t care.

“You want me to come back tomorrow night?... Good, then do as you are told. Atta boy! Do you have any plans for tomorrow during the day?... You can go to a museum another day.

“You’re doing good boy. While you continue to lick my load, pay attention to what I have to say. In the morning, my wife and I are heading to some castle. Before we leave, I am going to slip an envelope under the door. It’ll have €1500. We are about an hour and a half from Berlin. I want you to go there, find one of the sex shops. I want you to purchase a bunch of items.

“First, I want a rimseat. You know how to eat my shithole, and you will do it again. Find a chastity cage and have them put it on you. Have them put the key in the same envelope and seal it. Have them write their store’s name across the back of it. I want that cage to be tight and most importantly, I want it to prevent an erection, not one that pushes the cage forward should that tiny thing start to grow. Ideally I don’t want to see any bump from your tiny pecker. You got that? I want a collar, ankle cuffs, and wrist cuffs. Buy about 10 meters of rope and some padlocks. Get lube. And I don’t know how you are going to do this but get something to clean you out. And see if they sell teeth guards; I felt some teeth when I was in your throat.

“At midnight, keep your door unlocked. Be wearing the collar and the cuffs. And get a good hood and wear it. Leather can be expensive. I’ll bump that up to €2000 in the envelope. If there’s money left, get me a flogger.

“You got all that?... Good boy.

“Where’s your phone? Here it is. Good an iPhone. Look up. Good it unlocked. Get back to the floor. I’m putting my side cell number in here. I am listing myself as ‘SIR’. I want you to text me when you buy each item. And have the store worker take pics of you being fitted for the cage and anything else they care to. And if they want to use you, you will let them.

“I’m going to add you to my find my iPhone app, so I can track where you are. So I know what text you are, what’s your area code or country code?... 215?... Philadelphia?... Oh boy. My firm has me in Philly one week a month and a weekend in between. I have an apartment near Rittenhouse square. You perform well here, and I will be taking you on permanently.

“Keep licking boy. Don’t get up until every drop is in your belly. I’ll see you tomorrow. I need to get back to my wife.”

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pkmnprofloblolly · 9 months

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Hello! Trainer from Alola here, big fan of your work. I was wondering; is there any evidence of any legendary pokemon being related to other pokemon? For example, does Rayquaza share any DNA with other dragon pokemon? (I know it would be extremely difficult to get any rayquaza DNA fhshfjd) Or are pokemon like that entirely their own species?

the answer is, as with many things on this blog.. it depends!

"legendary pokemon" aren't really a cohesive category like, say, a type or a taxonomic group. the only common factors are that they tend to be very rare and that they have legends about them. as our examples, let's use two groups of hoenn legendary pokemon: latios and latias, and groudon, kyogre, and rayquaza.

latios and latias (like other pairs such as nidoqueen and nidoking, or volbeat and illumise, latios and latias are sexually dimorphic members of the same species) are indeed related to other pokemon- they're birds! specifically, they're in the auk family, which are a group of generally stout, seafaring birds like guillemots and puffins. this may seem strange- the latis appear to have wings and arms, and no legs, very unlike birds. however, if we take a look at their skeleton, the connection becomes much more obvious:

what we generally interpret as arms are actually the lati's legs, the thighs of which are obscured by flesh and feathers. while they use their wings to steer and for some lift, the latis generally stay aloft with their psychic powers rather than traditional flight, which is why they can hover in place. this has freed up their legs for use in manipulating objects, and they are rarely seen standing on their feet. because they mostly rely on hovering, their legs no longer have the strength to hold their large bodies up for very long.

these pokemon are indeed exceptionally rare, having very low population numbers in only a few regions, and spending most of their time over open ocean. like many pelagic seabirds, they breed on only a few small islands, like alto mare off the johto region and southern island off hoenn's south coast. their populations are on the upswing, though, in large part due to concentrated conservation efforts on those islands. point being, though, they are indeed just animals. rare, powerful animals, but animals nonetheless.

many legendary pokemon fall into this camp. articuno, zapdos, and moltres, lugia and ho-oh, heatran, and various others.

conversely, the so-called weather trio of hoenn: groudon, kyogre, and rayquaza. these three are even more rarely seen than the latis, only having been sighted in recent times during their clash in hoenn nearly two decades ago. despite the three's resemblance to other living pokemon, as far as we know they are entirely unrelated to any known animals, or even any other life on earth.

this is known because evidence of these pokemon have been found dating back over 3 billion years ago, that is to say over a billion years before multicellular life even existed. gigantic fragments of footprints attributed to groudon have been sighted alongside some of the earliest fossils we know of of early bacteria. modern physical samples from these pokemon- the extremely few that have ever been recovered- have never resulted in any dna evidence, and appear in structure much more similar to inorganic matter.

as it stands, it appears these pokemon arose some time early (relatively speaking) after the earth formed, being (as opposed to natural living organisms) animate representations of the forces of nature themselves. a similar condition is often assumed for some other grandiose legendary pokemon, such as dialga and palkia, though much less tangible evidence exists for their presence in prehistoric time, so this is mostly an assumption based on their infrequent appearances & legends surrounding their origins.

#Anonymous #art #latias #latios #pokemon #pkmn irl #speculative biology #kyogre #groudon #rayquaza #pkmn

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lee-aveyourmark · 1 year

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pov: you're doing grocery shopping with nct dream

∘.∙°. masterlist Warnings: mentions of food and eating; physical affection - hugs, kisses, everything to make you cringe

mark Constantly brings up the other Dreamies when finding foods that remind him of them. It's sweet to see how much he cares for them, but when he's stopping every 30 seconds to give a backstory for an item that catches his eye, it's not hard for your pout to come out. Will shut himself up and exert some self-control when he notices your furrowed eyebrows. Nevertheless, you two still end up buying some snacks for the other Dreamies. Likes to share one side of his wireless earphones with you. However, you begin to walk ahead once he's turned up the volume and started grooving to the beat a little too passionately. Your calls for him to stop fall upon deaf ears, and it takes a light pinch to the nape of his neck to remind him that he's at the supermarket with grannies watching him busting moves. Some shopping trips are confidence builders for Mark as you encourage him to avoid premade meals and buy fresh produce to cook with. Giggles and hugs you tightly when you concede to buying more eggs than normal so that he can practice his sunny side up's. Takes pics of you two in front of the safety mirrors and develops an album on his phone from the number of similar photos.

renjun Sings to himself while shopping, and also harmonises along to whatever you're singing without knowing that he's doing so. Spends a considerable amount of time debating different options for each item. Maybe a little too much time, because by the time you've reached the seventh item on your shopping list, you're yawning and thinking about your cosy bed. Is not afraid to ask workers where certain things are. Is also drawn to demonstrations of new kitchen appliances more than food samples. Often ends up overbuying, either because he overestimated the amount needed or because there were many dishes that he wanted to try making but they all called for different ingredients in small amounts. Gets deeply offended when you ask some stranger for help in grabbing something from the top shelf. Literally scoffs to himself, rolls his eyes, places his hands on his hips and glares at you and the stranger from afar. Gives you the silent treatment for two minutes before breaking because he forgot what was the next item on the shopping list which was in your possession. Also breaks when you slide your hand into his and do not let go even when he tries to walk in the other direction.

jeno Judges everything in consideration in reference to Jaemin. Choosing what cut of meat to get? Jeno thinks Jaemin said that this cut was best for its price point. Not sure what brand of matcha powder to buy? Jaemin mentioned one time that this certain brand has a really nice kick, so you should probably get that. Scratches the back of his neck when you put the chosen matcha powder back with an adamant shake of your head, reminding the samoyed that this Jaemin is also the same Jaemin who drinks coffee with six shots of espresso. Most of your shopping trips are done after 11am because Jeno just... loves sleep. If it's before midday, he's shuffling down the aisles in slides and slight bedhead that he tries to cover up with a hood. He's also still bleary-eyed and stifles a yawn while tugging on your sleeve to help him navigate through the store without bumping into anything. Becomes more awake once he munches on some samples. Pushes the cart leisurely with one arm and holds your hand with the other, gently stroking your knuckles. Sneaks candids of you picking things off the shelves and comparing items. Seeing you bite your lip in deep thought makes him want to kiss you so bad, but he'll wait until you're alone. He'll also save the pics for later when he misses you and needs a reminder of home.

haechan Takes turns pushing the cart, but sometimes he'll have a mind of his own and force you to push it against your will while he runs off. There's a 50-50 chance of him making a small toddler cry by smiling at them. Will always opt for the spiciest option there is, and argues that it's the right choice. Tries to convince you by reasoning that you should just learn to eat spicier or dilute your portion with water. When threatening to break up with him because of his stubbornness, he reluctantly swaps for one spice level below and then two upon catching your glare. Picks a random item off the shelf every 5 minutes and makes a cheesy pun about it to flirt with you. More often than not, you just shake your head and continue walking down the aisle with a smile. Suddenly stops you and grabs your face with his hands, staring at you intensely for a brief moment before leaning in with puckered lips. The whine he lets out after you push him away attracts the attention of everyone in the aisle. The only way to get out of the spotlight is to give him a quick peck which turns his whines into a squeal of satisfaction. Proceeds to cuddle his head into your neck while browsing the next two aisles, only retracting when you complain that you can't feel your shoulder anymore.

jaemin Every shopping trip is also a date. This man will convince you to wear a couple's article of clothing to receive coos from elderly women. Will also feed you all the samples there are to offer before trying them himself. Falls head over heels for you for the 138th time when your eyes light up and eyebrows raise in delight at how tasty a sample is. Proceeds to buy half the store's stock of that item. Then, he falls for the 139th time when you push the shopping cart with him, fawning over how cute your hands look next to his. He slips one hand between the space of your two so that your arms are intertwined, before adorning the biggest grin on his face when you link his arm with yours and rest your head on his shoulder. Will buy the ingredients for whatever dish you wanna eat later that day because he's self-assured that he can make the dish. Whenever he lets you pick out groceries, he'll never oppose your selections that go against his personal preference. Instead, he'll try to appreciate your selections or help you fix the dish's taste if your choice turns out to be unfortunate. Peppers your face with kisses once you two return to the car because he found all of your shopping mannerisms adorable, and holds your hand while driving back home.

chenle Probably the only member who'd do groceries in the actual morning. Because Chenle knows what he's looking for, grocery trips average around 30 minutes. That's including time for you to browse and select snacks that weren't originally included on the shopping list. Will go on a rampage and nonstop brag about you when an old lady comments on how sweet your relationship is. Has such a soft spot for the elderly and for children to the point of paying for their groceries if there's a cute family or a lonely grandpa waiting in line behind you two. Also likes to act as your sugar daddy, nonchalantly allowing you to toss two tubs of the most expensive brand of ice cream that the store has to offer into the shopping cart. Shares his music with you, but doesn't seem to be bothered with you listening when he accepts a call and starts talking with a cousin. Continues shopping after the call ends as if nothing happened, asking for input about certain grocery items. Bursts into laughter when he sees you standing stock still with awkwardness written all across your face, your cheeks as red as the bunch of tomatoes in his hand. Can't stop cooing you because of how cute your face was, and soothes you by buying your favourite drink from the cafe next door to the grocery store.

jisung Snacks, snacks and more snacks. 90% of the time Jisung asks you to go to the grocery store with him, it's because he's looking for snacks. Careful but confident when choosing snacks. However, ask him one question about buying actual groceries, and he'll spiral into a deep internal conflicting monologue about the 10 different brands of the one item you're looking for. Nevertheless, you let him and his snack connoisseur antics be because most of the time, his selections turn out to be pretty good. Pops along to whatever song the grocery store is playing, even if it's some old trot tune. Falls behind when stumbling upon a childhood ice cream, proceeding to become lost. Has to roam all the aisles twice before finding you. You're extremely confused when he approaches you with tears in his eyes and hugs your shoulders tightly. Shyly waves to all the toddlers who stare up at him in awe in passing, reaching out with a blush when he misinterprets the child's extended hand for a high-five. Uses his massive hands to bring the groceries to and from the car, and feels proud of himself when he only needs one trip to haul them out.

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obae-me · 6 months

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Tainted Reflections- CH 16

Start This Story From The Beginning!

Previous Chapter Next Chapter (Coming Soon)

A Yearning For Freedom

Warning: This chapter contains Mentions of Blood, Weaponry, Dolls and Scarecrows, Body Horror, Gruesome and Disturbing Imagery.

As Always, Read Safely.

“It’s getting closer.” The scream that rattled the fearful parts of your soul echoed more east of the house this time, as if it was scanning the miles between the trees. The fabric of the tunic scrunched up nicely underneath your hands, gripping it anxiously. Not only that, but the tendons of your fingers were twitching with anticipation. The house was filled with the warmth and scent of hearth cooking. If you closed your eyes long enough, you could almost imagine being in the kitchen of the House of Lamentation. Leaning over the island while Beel stirred and sampled the pot, knowing that if he had his way, there would be no dinner for the others, but not always having the heart to stop him. It was the simplest things you missed the most.

“It should be far enough,” Beel assured you, although the gravelly tone to his voice suggested ‘far enough’ was still too close for comfort. However, Gluttony didn’t linger on that. Instead, he checked the food over the fire, taking a spoon and gulping down a taste despite the liquid being hot enough to give any human scalding third-degree burns. The flavor had him licking his lips, a small smile on his face. “All done.”

At those words, you stood back up on your feet, approaching the pot as Beel gathered out some wooden bowls and spoons he had pilfered from a nearby cupboard. A steady grip was careful not to let a single drop go to waste. Both of your hands reached out for the bowl, but Beel apologetically shook his head. “It’s pretty hot. Let’s go to the table.” Seems he was determined to keep you safe from everything. One serving in each of his hands, he stepped over to the humble little table a few feet away from the hearth. It was round, chestnut brown, with four chairs around it but only one pair clearly used. Two places were set before he pulled out a chair for you, gesturing you to settle yourself down again. Tears almost pricked your eyes. Thank God for Beel. Not just for taking care of you and even saving you, but for creating moments like these that made this a little more bearable. His brothers were in danger, his twin unconscious in the room upstairs, stuck in a seemingly unsurvivable situation, and yet he still had enough compassion in his heart to do something as simple as take your chair. Others had done less for less.

Beel pushed the seat back towards the table after you sat down, taking the second well-used chair across from you. Both of you waited in silence for a little while, watching the steam rise and vegetables bob up and down in the broth. It almost felt like a crime to have this little breath of peace. You could tell Beel felt the same way. The others should be here… Well, maybe not here, but together. How could you eat knowing that the others were suffering? It was difficult to not let the guilt and the grief chip away at you. What was going on outside right now? From what Beel described, it was nothing good. They were all split up, with practically no communication between them all. While apparently Diavolo had been the one to make the decision, you couldn’t help but wonder if it had been the right choice. In every horror movie, the worst tactic you can employ is to split up. But you were human, and humans relied on strength in numbers. Demons weren’t quite the same. These were the most powerful demons in the realm after all. Even so…you still worried about them. If you thought you had it bad, you couldn’t imagine what Beel was going through. You couldn’t bring yourself to observe the pain etched into his face.

“Wow… I’ve never seen two people so mopey over dinner before.”

The voice caught both of you off guard, freezing you in place while Beel got up so aggressively he almost knocked the table over. You steadied the furniture with your hands and grasped the sides of each bowl to keep the precious hard-awaited prize from spilling all over the cold floor. The heart in your chest paused as you turned your head, not quite trusting your ears alone.

Belphie staggered down the hall, hovering just outside the kitchen’s doorway, one arm clutching his own waist to keep his torso steady as he guided himself along the wall. The tips of his fingers were stained black with his own dried blood. He stopped in place as he spotted his twin, both of them gazing at each other with an unpalatable amount of bittersweetness. Sloth opened his mouth, his voice cracking in a mixture of relief and sorrow. “Beel… No… I—“ His words were cut short as Beel took the last few steps forward to wrap his brother carefully into his arms, avoiding the wound across his back, wary of hurting him or crushing him in excitement. Belphie clung to his twin with trembling fingers.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Words choked up in your own throat as you watched the both of them. Tears once again streamed down your cheeks. “I thought…” It seemed silly to suggest such dismal things out-loud now.

The demon of Gluttony loosened his hold on his twin. With a supportive arm, he helped Belphie by taking some of the strain off his feet. As glad as he was to see his twin up and about, it was clear the youngest was still not well. Whiter than a sheet and sweating bullets, Sloth hardly looked conscious. It was difficult to watch. You had never seen him in this much pain before. None of the otherworldly beings you’d befriended had ever been in as critical a condition as this. There were fights you had seen before, moments where you feared for their safety, but you quickly learned that a lot of their brawls were similar to feral cats hissing and clawing at each other till they broke it off to lick their tender wounds. They had gotten themselves into plenty of sticky situations as well, but curses and spells and hexes were one thing… being nearly slaughtered was another.

“We need to get you back to bed,” Beel urged, all too ready to hoist his twin over his shoulder and bring him back upstairs.

With the little amount of strength he had left, Belphie shook his head and tugged on the sleeve of his brother’s jacket. “No, no… I’ve slept enough.”

These were dire times indeed…

“Besides.” Sloth stopped to refill his shaky lungs, pausing in just the proper time for another scream to toll through the world. “Can’t rest with all that racket.” A joke in nature but a truth in tone. None of you had too much time to linger longer. Belphegor urged his brother to lead him towards you, where then two limp arms draped themselves over your shoulders. There were no words exchanged. Nothing about what had happened, about how you broke his wishes and came running back to him, about how both of you nearly got killed for each other in a rather ridiculous and tragic Shakesperian way. Unspoken apologies and grateful remarks were exchanged through the gentle way both of you held each other close. His hand went to the back of your head, his fingers nearly gripping your hair, his cold cheek pressed against your own. Then he took a step back, probably before he exerted the last of energy shedding any unnecessary tears. A little sniffle came from his nose before he gestured towards the both of you to help lead him towards the table. He moaned with every uneasy footfall, catching his breath as he sat down, leaning forward to keep his back from touching anything.

Beel slid his bowl over to his brother before rushing around the kitchen to get himself another portion.

“Did…” Belphie spoke so softly, his twin almost couldn’t hear. “Did Ikito… hurt you?” It wasn’t quite like the youngest troublesome brother to have a look of pure fear on his face, but it was there, plain to see, a fire his chest.

No response. Belphie bit his lip. Gluttony got a new serving for himself before sitting by his twin. “I didn’t really get hurt, no… just…” After a long period stuttering, Beel explained in brief words how he had been tricked. How he left Levi and Barbatos in the Tomb, and how he abandoned Simeon and Luke to chase after him and after you. Ikito had made some sort of deal with the other two Old Council members. A deal to ensure he could toy with you all.

Sloth was furious, but despite his newfound rage, his expression calmed just a little. It was almost as if you could see him tucking away his murderous intent, careful of the way he was acting around Beel. But in every word he spoke, there was a faint growl stirring in the base of his throat. He was the first one to pick up his spoon, taking some of the stew and eating it. “I’m surprised you found food here,” he mentioned, eying you and and his brother as he waited for the both of you to follow suit and satisfy your starvation.

“I found a cellar under the house…” You blew on the spoonful before letting it enter your mouth. Every nerve in your body was flooded with a pleasant warmth. As you swallowed, you could feel the temperature make it’s way down into your body, settling into your stomach. In the back of your mind you knew it was essentially a bowl of random vegetables and herbs that had just cooked in a bath for the last thirty minutes. However, that didn’t stop it from tasting like the best blessed meal you had ever had the fortune of consuming. Each mouthful was practically medicinal, your aches and pains somewhat alleviated. The stitches in your sides and the pressure behind your eyes ebbed away. It wasn’t until you had already scarfed down half of it that you began to pace yourself. “Food… and other things.”

There was a slight raise to Belphie’s eyebrow. “Singrid’s things?” His intuition left you speechless for only a moment before you nodded. The demon didn’t seem surprised, but thankfully he didn’t seem overtly concerned either. “Please tell me you found more than just cabbages and a wardrobe straight from a costume shop.”

Right. You’d nearly forgotten that you appeared as if you freshly stepped out of one of Levi’s fantasy larp sessions. “I found plenty down there,” you answered, feeling once again excited to share this news, speaking between mouthfuls of soup. “Weapons and armor and scrolls. Stuff we could use to help us—“

“Stuff that could kill us…” Out of everyone, you didn’t expect Beel to sound the most pessimistic.

Belphie slightly turned his head, giving his twin a faint encouraging smile, taking on the sunshine role for a moment. “Something to check. After all, we need as much help as we can get. And we need to be prepared. We have to leave soon.”

Leave soon. Those two words were hard enough to swallow to make you put your spoon down. Last time you tried to leave, it didn’t go so well. Clearly. You could almost hear the gut-twisting sound of Ikito’s laughter. Deceit was relying on Belphie’s Sloth and your ‘frail’ humanity to create a self-inflicted prison. It nearly worked. You didn’t want to leave again. Beel didn’t want to make a choice again.

But Ikito didn’t account for the fact that Belphegor didn’t want to be trapped again.

More than anything, you knew that Sloth wanted freedom. Even if it went against his sin, he’d fight tooth and nail for it, go further than any of his brothers for it, kill for it. “So eat as much as you can,” Belphie announced, “and then we’re getting out of here.”

Perfect placed pedestals all in a row. Inside a box where none seem to go. While the colors do shine and the lights seem to glow. There is no life found in this house full of woe.

The glass pressed against his palm. How surprisingly cruel the clear prison was. If he’d just been kept in a cell or a room… But no. He was forced to watch everything unobscured before him. The room was vast with a cleanly laid floor and a lavish chandelier hanging overhead. The light-piece was practically dripping with jewels, and while they should have glimmered, only plain white light cast over everything. The contrasting mood matched everything else in this place. The details themselves were ornate in every sense. Silver outlined the base molding, the ceiling painted to depict several demons in their peak form. It could’ve been a scene cut out from one of his famous stories. A regal realm quite on par with the Demon Lord’s Castle. Yet, it all felt off. Wrong.

A music box ticks with a click and a chime. The melody sings as the dolls dance in line. An elegant scene that appears well and fine. But there comes a warning with this little rhyme.

The ballroom was flooded with several people, all waltzing to a beguiling but morose tune. Each of them were covered in some of the finest outfits Simeon had ever had the misfortune of seeing. Handcrafted and hand-tailored to match each doll exquisitely. Horns were polished, scales were shined, feathers preened. It was breathtaking. But for all the wrong reasons. Each doll was in perfect unison with the other. The steps with each other were so in sync, the footfalls echoed as one single unit. They repeated their sweeping motions over and over and over again, and nothing changed. It was difficult to tell if they’d been at this for minutes or hours. Not a hair out of place, not a toe out of line, not a single twirl off beat. There were others not participating in the procession as well, standing off to the side, lining the walls in neutral positions. Some held objects of seemingly random import. Food, drinks, books, different outfits, jewelry, brushes, ribbons, practically whatever Simeon could imagine being needed at a moment’s notice. Others simply stood there, motionless. They hardly breathed. They never blinked. Life-sized puppets, all being pulled along by one master.

The curtains, while lovely, are rigid and thick. No cushions are soft, just tough as a brick. Carefully crafted right down to the wick. Every beautiful thing is a terrible trick.

Sterile. That seemed the proper word for it. Actively made to keep a plague out. And in this case, life itself was a disease. Even as much as they wanted to be, Demons and Angels were still flawed. Just as much as humans. This place was as close to perfection as it could get— well depending on one’s own definition of the word. For Simeon, this was not some immaculate utopia. It was an artificial nightmare created by a harsh man with a ideal that could never truly be sated. The demon in question sat by the angel’s side, observing the dolls dance. Even though this was what he had crafted, he hardly look amused. There wasn’t even any indication that he was mildly entertained. More like he was testing to make sure nothing was wrong, and only the flawlessness of the costumes and performance kept him content.

Pathways of marble are latticed with gold. Halls filled with artwork to never be sold. But the curator harbors no love for the cold. Nor the toys he created, or so I’ve been told.

The demon snapped. The music stopped. The dolls were perfectly frozen still. The demon stood from his seat, walking down to the party in silent even steps. He approached one of the puppets and looked it over, grasping its chin and inspecting the contours of its face. From here in his terrarium, Simeon saw nothing wrong. The doll was practically gleaming, horns decorated with jewels that complimented their complexion. They were picturesque in every feature. The puppet-master glared, the first expression Simeon had seen from the man so far. A hand was waved and the doll pulled from it’s dance partner. Two other dolls stepped from their idle spots against the wall. The empty spaces were quickly filled in as every other marionette shifted to their right in tandem. One of the models grabbed the defected one by the back of the head, pulling it along the ground by its hair. The second took up the dance position, sliding into exactly the same pose as the other one had been. The toy keeper stepped back to his seat and settled in without so much as saying a word. The very second he sat back down, the reception continued.

Simeon watched as the discarded doll got dragged away. The double doors to the ballroom opened, and just before they closed, the angel got a glimpse of the puppet staring right at him.

Fear. Pure anguishing fear flickered in those dazzling eyes before the thing was gone.

Simeon could hardly swallow, as if his throat was already stuffed with cotton.

Write. Keep writing. The anger. The frustration. The terror. Channel it. Compose yourself. Take the bitter details and throw them in a stanza. Let the heart beat to the cadence and flow. Keep the brain working. Tune the soul steady. Now is not the time to lose against the war of despair. Continue thinking. Don’t get lost in the darkness. Miracles and blessings can be found wherever you look. Even in a place like this… There will be a way out… Even if he himself can’t, if Luke…

One of the only things keeping him from razing this dollhouse down into the ashes of retribution was the fledgling. This demon was somehow connected to all these…it felt wrong to call them toys, but in this state they were no longer people. Victims. If Simeon did anything to tick him off… Luke had to be somewhere here. He must be so frightened. He must be waiting for Simeon to save him. He had to do something. But he couldn’t risk… Simeon would protect him at any cost. Suppressing the intense emotions was too overwhelming, the angel felt faint, vision blurred from the wrath of a Celestial guardian. He needed to calm himself.

Plucked from their lives and adorned in their best. They waltz flawlessly as to welcome their guest. Stiff faces exhibit no signs of protest. For they no longer hold a real heart in their chest.

In the midst of the dancing, the demon waved up a few of his controlled. Already knowing what he desired, they each came up with several different ensembles. Suit-coats, dresses, waistcoats, corsets, scarves, coats, cloaks, outfits of all kinds. He scanned them over, pointing at two and shooing the others away with a dismissive hand. The clothes were brought closer to him where he ran smooth palms over them. His eyes kept glancing back to Simeon, scanning him over, analyzing every corner of his body as he was forced to stand in this little display.

“That one will be perfect for it.” Words were finally spoken, as the demon decided on the white and blue colored set, gold embroidery and opaque silken ribbons run throughout. Where fabric was lacking, strings of pearls were used instead. The demon stood back on his feet, taking the outfit in his hands and pressing it against the glass to envision what the angel would look like in it. “Yes. I’ve been saving this one for quite some time. Fitting I get to use it for the first angel in my collection.”

More than anything, even the prospect of becoming a doll himself, the word ‘first’ churned his stomach. “You’ll never lay a single hand on another Celestial being again,” Simeon hissed softly, somehow managing to keep his voice steady.

The demon turned his head, gracing the angel with a response for once. And while the stiff and idyllic sculpted features of his face had long forgotten the motion of expression, there was a clear and chilling hue of amusement in those alluring rouge irises. “You and the little runt deserve just a bit more credit than that. I might be a collector, but do you really think I’d bother myself with the likes of both of you if not for good reason?” The demon handed the outfit back to the doll who brought it, circling the glass dome with a single trailing finger. “I have to say, for the first time in eons, I find myself…almost excited. I’ve never worked with Celestial skin before. I doubt just one will be enough to quell my curiosities.” The demon stood before Simeon, hand trailing down the curve of the prison as if he was caressing Simeon’s face. “Once your realm figures out what’s happened, I can be assured that several others will... scurry down here hoping to vindicate you, or whatever it is you angels care about.” His hand dropped dully back to his side as he turned, cutting through the dolls and dismissing the dance entirely. "Beleth can have their war, just so long as I get more toys to work with.”

Simeon’s nostrils flared as a cruel and crooked smile curled across his face. “I swear by the blood of my Holy Father, if you touch one hair off of Luke’s head, I will—“ Simeon stopped himself short, a cold chill rushing through his veins as he noted the snap of every doll’s head turning to look at him.

The demon went back to ignoring the caged angel, waving at all his puppets to disperse. A few of them came over to Simeon’s spot and stood still at his sides. “We have work to do. Once it's prepped, send it to the craft room. I want it ready within the hour.” Most of the dolls followed him out the door while others moved about the room on their own tasks. Simeon’s prison rumbled, sending him staggering a moment while the mannequins surrounding him picked up the dome from the flattened bottom, remaining mostly bent over as they all began walking in an unnatural scuttling position.

The angel clenched his jaw, holding his breath and keeping his eyes trained forward.

Less than an hour. He had less than an hour to escape from here.

To those far across the land and the sea. If all you remember is this rhythmic plea. Do what you must to stay humble and free Of Alastor, Doll-maker of Vanity.

A loud and determined shout left your mouth as you backed out of the cellar. You dragged a dual-bladed battle axe out into the snow, giving it another tug. The heel of your boot snagged on a patch of ice. The last fragment of air left your lungs as you slipped backwards, expecting the back of your head to hit the snow, but instead meeting a large hand. “I told you to be careful.”

After you straightened yourself, you worked on getting your breathing proper. “I know…just…heavy…” You always knew authentic weapons like these were weightier than they appeared. You recalled one pleasant memory where Simeon spent half a day teaching you proper fencing techniques. Your arms and wrist were so sore the next day, you could hardly lift a pen much less a sword. And those had been wooden.

Almost fully buried in the snow now, Beel approached the axe carefully, jostling Belphie a little to better carry his twin over his back. There was a groan from Sloth but not much else. He used one arm to steady Belphie against his body as he bent over. Wary fingers approached the thing, worried that his skin would perhaps burst into flames as soon as he touched it. A single fingertip tapped the wooden throat before retracting. No hissing, no flailing, no fire. Beel eventually deemed the thing safe and scooped the weapon up easily with his free hand. He turned the handle in his palm, getting the feel of it before nodding. “This’ll work.”

“It better,” Belphie huffed, looking at you curiously as you held out the hilt of another weapon to him. It was the matching dagger to the one you’d held with you ever since you’d been abandoned in this terrible place. You felt more at ease with it in his hands. “Thanks…” The demon muttered softly, whimpered with a wheeze as he shifted a bit to find somewhere on his person to tuck it, careful not to accidentally stab his brother as he went back to wrapping his arms around his twin's neck.

Sloth's eyes were shutting and opening at random intervals, clearly still struggling to remain alert. Right after dinner, the both of them had gone up to re-wrap his wounds while you ventured back down into the cellar. You’d scooped up anything you felt would be useful and tucked it into a leather satchel, throwing it over your shoulder. Some sorcerer spell scrolls, vials, a matchbox, some dried preserves, the magic mirror shard you still kept, and other bits and bobs. You’d even lugged out a light crossbow with a small quiver of bolts. You weren’t quite sure how to use it, but one of these two could teach you. Out of everything that had been in there, this seemed the best for you. Easiest to carry, long range, and while your aim might not be impeccable, something was better than nothing.

After all, you needed to get out of here as quickly as possible. Belphie wasn’t looking great…not in any sense of the word, but he looked one half-step better than having both feet in the grave. You needed to get out of here so he could get help… or else who knows how long he’d last?… No you couldn’t think about that.

“So,” Beel started, nervously licking his lips as his head swiveled to observe the trees behind him, the trees to the left of him, and the trees right in front of him. “Where do we…”

“Wait.” Belphie spoke as he kept his eyes closed, seeming as if he was asleep but tuning into the surroundings closely. “Let’s hear where it is first.”

It was a rather unnerving thing, waiting to listen to the scream. Every second the silence drifted on, the more your anxiousness rose. Images of it popping up out of nowhere flashed through your head. With what you had seen of it, it wasn’t exactly a sneaky creature, but still… Not knowing where it was was the worst part. Almost like keeping your head above the water, unaware of the monsters that might be lurking just below your feet. Ready to brush up against your toes and— The sensation sent a shiver down your spine and an itchy feeling through your bones. You pulled your cloak tighter around you.

After a few more minutes, the horrid sound of the cry sounded off south of where you stood, approaching the front side of the house. It was even closer. Almost close enough to discern the faint sound of gnashing teeth. You hoped that was just your imagination. Beel and Belphie immediately paled, the stronger of the two turning on his feet and heading in the opposite direction.

You stood in place.

It took a second before they both noticed, Belphie flicking his tail in clear painful irritation. “What? What is it?” The tone to his words were stern, not concerned, like he was able to hear your thoughts before you expressed them.

“I…um…” How would you word this without sounding like a complete idiot with a fully written will? “Are we sure we want to go that way?” You asked, gesturing with a gloved hand to the thick and never-ending grove of trees branching away from the monster.

“Uh, I’m sorry, I don’t know if I heard you correctly,” Belphie scoffed sardonically. It was pleasing to know that no matter how close his tango to death was, he’d still manage to find the strength to be sarcastic. “I’m not understanding your question. Did you want to head towards the monster? The monster that nearly got us both killed? Do you want to cross paths with that thing again?”

“Of course I don’t want to! It nearly—“ The words caught in your throat, a sharp crack of your voice forcing you to cough a bit. You never wanted to see that thing again. Not in your life, not in your minds eye, not even in your dreams. But… As your head raised up to meet the demon’s gaze, you were stunned to find he was looking away from you. Stubbornly so, not observing anything in particular, but purposefully turning his head to avoid your eyes. There was an unspoken exchange between you two, one that Beel appeared a bit hurt to be left out of.

Gluttony raised his eyebrow at you. “What?”

Now that you were put on the spot, you started second-guessing yourself. The thought that had come to your mind must’ve simply been ridiculous. It was dangerous to assume anything in this place. Pressing your lips tightly together, you conceded without saying anything else. You shook your head and took a step forward, telling both demons to forget about it. Beel softly called out your name before following you, hardly getting in a few steps before Belphie sighed heavily.

“You think there’s something there, don’t you?”

Once again, the clever seventh-born hit the nail right on the head. If you had been paying attention to the Sin Eater’s calls properly, even in it’s search for you and Belphie, it never seemed to round the back of the house. Of course, that could be totally coincidental. Who knew how confused it was or where this house was placed in the middle of everything? Maybe there were more horrific things meant to be found in every corner of this realm, but you’d lived in the House of Lamentation for quite some time now. A home where Greed lived. A home connected to a crypt that was the den for a hellhound. The things that were the most sought after were often the most protected. “I… can’t be certain.” It was true, you had no idea if your intuition was divine guidance or simply misplaced assumptions. “But it…I mean it would make sense, wouldn’t it? If there’s only one way out, it would be hidden and guarded.”

Belphegor clenched his teeth, his tail curling. His eyes held the weight of someone who had seen too much. “It’s a Sin Eater. It doesn’t guard, it destroys. It’s sole purpose is to hunt down demons. So if it followed that idiot who just so happened to run straight out the front door, of course it’s going to be there!” The demon graciously glanced over the fact that you both had done the same thing and nearly paid the ultimate price for it. He was right. But you also felt like you were right. “We’re not risking our lives on the slim chance that a human managed to keep a Celestial weapon confined to a certain territory.” A mental blow struck your chest. The way he phrased that sounded like how the bothers had referred to your kind when you first came to the Devildom, how many demons still said it, how Ikito would say it. Belphie realized his mistake after you cast your glance away, his mouth slightly open, his hand gripping the cloth over Beel’s shoulder.

If it weren’t so cold, you could see Beel nearly sweating, torn between how to best help the both of you. “Hey…” Gluttony addressed both of you with an earnest voice. Without saying it in so many words, you could tell he was expecting the both of you to take it easy. “Why don’t we head this way for now? If Belphie’s right, the Sin Eater will leave that area to follow us. We can kite around it and check over there if we don’t find anything, okay?” That compromise sent Belphie into a surrendering silence. Arguing against such sound logic would be pointless, besides, it was hard to deny Beel outright.

“Alright,” you nodded, wary, but feeling a bit better with both demons at your side now, slightly more prepared for the dangers you might face.

With Beel carrying Belphie only two steps in front of you, he led the way into the grove. As the shadows of trees blanketed you all in darkness, another wail from the Sin Eater rang from behind you. It felt a little easier to breathe knowing that the thing would steadily be drifting farther from you, but it would be foolish to lower your guard in this unknown.

You all continued to walk for what felt like another eternity. Even with your new clothes, the tips of your toes still tingled with an uncomfortable numbness, the ends of your ears threatening to chip off. Belphie appeared to fall back asleep along the way, no signs of attention in his body language, his tail brushing against the ground, snow matting in the fur at the end. At seeing this, you bit the inside of your cheek and silently wished Sloth a rejuvenating rest.

More time passed. Against your better judgment, you let your mind wander for a moment, legs on autopilot, staring at the ground with blank eyes as you shuffled through the snow. Just as you were about to let the darker thoughts sink back in, you felt your face run into Beel’s body. Shaking your head, you took a step back, wondering why he’d just suddenly stopped in his tracks. But before you audibly asked, your question was asked for you.

Several ornaments were hung from the branches of the trees. And not the pleasing and colorful kind that you’d see hung for the holidays. The kinds built from straw and twigs, bent into different shapes and runes and ritualistic depictions. The kind that might as well have been a blinking neon sign to ‘not go any further’. A bit further in the distance, obscured by the trees, was an arch, each stone face painted in a black symbol you couldn’t discern the origins of. The atmosphere was anything but welcoming.

“So much for this way,” you sighed, determined not to go any further.

With Belphie asleep, Beel seemed to agree. “Maybe we should try left.” The two of you turned at the same time.

A jolt ran throughout your body as you grabbed Beel’s sleeve, one hand going to the hilt of your dagger. Even though you had kept your head down for a while, you could’ve sworn that there were nothing but trees out here earlier. But now, all the sudden, several scarecrows sat in the empty spaces between the trees. Rotted straw slipped from torn open pant legs, splotches of stains covered their stuffed potato sack heads, X’s stitched over where eyes would’ve been. They lined each side of you, and when you tilted your head, you noticed they had somehow cropped up behind you as well. “Um, Beel… those weren’t there before… were they?”

The demon of Gluttony shook at Belphie a little, trying to wake him up, but all his twin did was moan softly, unable to open his eyes quite yet. Beel’s other hand gripped his new weapon tightly, his knuckles turning white. “No. They weren’t.”

Your tongue suddenly felt dry as you continued to look at all of them. Was it just you, or were they getting closer? “Do we go past them, or—“ An intense shuffling sound filled your ears as your body was shoved, Beel guiding you to run but with no hands left to grab you. He kept his pace behind you, holding Belphie against his chest now, acting as your shield as much as he could. He swung at one of the things, a high-pitched squealing making you flinch. Nearly tripping, refusing to look, ears ringing with the strange chittering noise, you sprinted as fast as humanly possible forwards. Forced to funnel through the arch, you and the twins stumbled between the stones, feeling a shift in the environment. The gasping warbling stopped, and as you finally found the courage to glance over your shoulder, you noticed that all the scarecrows were gone. Vanished.

Beel took a step closer to you to ensure you were alright while you both slowed to a halt. The malicious presence was gone, but something told you they would return if you were to go back. That was even if you could go back. You had the faint sensation that some sort of door had locked behind you.

“I wonder what kind of mess we’re into now…”

Author's Note: Thank you all for being so patient with me and always taking the time to read what I put out there!

Also, don't ask me why the last two or three letters of each segment of poem in Simeon's section are formatted weird, I tried so hard to fix it, but it literally would not work. If I went through and only highlighted those letters to italicize them, after I saved, it would shift to the letters behind them and force them to be normal. So weird! So frustrating, but Tumblr just hates me sometimes.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me simeon #tw blood #tw weapon #tw disturbing imagery #tw body horror #tainted reflections

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ardri-na-bpiteog · 19 days

Text

Also if you're an American who is rightfully disillusioned with the two-party system and perpetual "lesser of two evils" cycle, I would highly encourage you to get involved in movements for Ranked Choice Voting.

While not perfect, and I would personally prefer a complete overhaul to introduce a parliamentary system with a form of proportional representation, Ranked Choice is a bit more realistically achievable within the current framework that exists in the United States.

With the a first-past-the-post (FPTP) electoral system like the US currently has, third parties are always going have an incredibly small chance of success, barring major disruption or the internal collapse of one of the two main parties. The fact is that it is always going to be difficult, if not outright impossible, for a third party to pull enough voters from one of the existing main parties to actually win.

Because of this, it is difficult to convince people to support third parties because they will fear splitting the vote of their voting bloc, leading to the party they want least to win.

Ranked Choice Voting helps eliminate or mitigate some of these problems by allowing voters to rank the candidates in order of preference. If there are 4 candidates, the voter assigns them each a number in order of preference, 1-4.

The counting method then usually promoted in the US for single-member districts is the instant run-off method. In this case the votes would be counted and if no candidate won over 50% of 1st preference votes the candidate with the lowest number of votes would be eliminated. The 2nd preference votes from the eliminated candidate are then redistributed to the remaining candidates. This continues until someone wins over 50% of the vote.

This way, people can safely vote for third parties without worrying about splitting the vote, because the system takes into account their preferences.

Here's a sample scenario:

There is an election and 4 candidates run for election in a particular district and their vote percentages are as follows:

Candidate 1 for the Republican Party: 30%

Candidate 2 for the Democratic Party: 25%

Candidate 3 for the Libertarian Party: 21%

Candidate 4 for the Green Party: 24%

Using the existing FPTP system, the Republican Party candidate wins, even though 70% of voters did not vote for them.

But with Ranked Choice Voting, the Libertarian candidate is eliminated and their votes redistributed. Let's say that most of them put The Republicans as their 2nd preference (12 points) but 6 points go to The Green Party and 3 to the Democrats:

Candidate 1 for the Republican Party: 42%

Candidate 2 for the Democratic Party: 28%

Candidate 4 for the Green Party: 30%

Since still no one has over 50% of the vote, the Democratic Party Candidate is eliminated and their votes redistributed. Let's say those voters overwhelmingly voted for the Green Party Candidate as their 2nd preference, or their 3rd (in the case where their 2nd preference was the Libertarian Party Candidate, who has been eliminated).

The new vote totals are thus as follows:

Candidate 1 for the Republican Party: 44%

Candidate 4 for the Green Party: 56%

This time, the Green Party Candidate wins because the system accounted for the preferences of the voters, the majority of whom did not want the Republican Candidate to win.

TLDR: Pushing for Ranked Choice Voting is something tangible you can do to slightly improve the shitshow that is American Politics and I would strongly encourage everyone to educate themselves on it and to push for it in all elections that you can. There are some active Ranked Choice Voting campaigns out there, but even educating the people you know on Ranked Choice Voting and how it is a better representation of the desires of the electorate is a good start.

Disclaimer: This post is not intended as a lecture on why you should or should not vote for a third party candidate in the upcoming election. Please do NOT try to start arguments on my post about whether or not it is morally acceptable to vote for third parties. That's not the point of this post, this post is intended to inform people about Ranked Choice Voting and how First-Past-The-Post is a terrible system that screws over the American people.

#I spent nearly an hour on this post #but I'm a PoliSci nerd about electoral systems so I kind of enjoyed it

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jadagul · 11 months

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I'm sorry if this is a stupid question. Why is it harder for larger countries to have citizens with a high median level of wealth? What makes it harder for a country with the US population vs, say, Japan? I can imagine obvious challenges, but also reasons why larger countries can make their median citizen wealthier more easily. Economies of scale, more chances for innovation that can later be widely adopted, strong institutions having outsized effects. Can you help me understand the logic more?

It's not a stupid question! It's a common but incredibly counterintuitive thing that comes up in statistical comparisons. The short version is: you get more variance with small samples than with large samples.

To start off, let's point out this isn't just theoretical. According to the IMF, the twelve highest GDPs per capita are in this chart:

(If you use a different source the numbers change somewhat but not dramatically so.)

If you rank countries by population, those are rank 122, 163, 118, 134, 162.5, 95, 99, 115, 3, 191, 169, and 103.5. The US is in position 3 and the next-highest is at 95 (out of about 200).

Conversely let's look at the ten most populous nations:

When ranked by GDP per capita, those come out at ranks 73, 127, 8, 98, 138, 144, 87, 128, 56, and 71.

And notice already this looks different: these numbers are mostly in like the middle half, whereas the others were almost all in the bottom half. And that makes sense based on the theoretical argument I'm about to make.

A big country has a lot of people in it. And more than that, it has a lot of places in it. And while those places all have a bunch of stuff in common (like being part of the same country), they also have a bunch of things different from each other. So you can think of the per capita GDP of a big country as, like, averaging together the per capita GPDs of all the regions in it. (And then the per capita GDP of a region is a weighted average of the incomes of all the people in it.)

If you look at a city-state like Singapore or Hong Kong, you're "averaging" together one city. And for a small country like Ireland or Luxembourg, you're averaging one city with a small amount of hinterlands. That means that if that one city is unusually lucky, the whole country is rich.

(And if that one city is unusually unlucky, the whole country is poor. The ten least populated countries on the list that have IMF data have GDP per capita ranks of 146, 119, 95, 9, 152, 60, 106, 16, 134, 52, which are all over the map. None of them are at the very bottom, and I assume that's because cities are richer than non-cities, in general. And also maybe a city-state that's also dirt poor gets swallowed up.)

And if you look at our list of richest countries, you can really see this effect. Ireland is a tax haven for the EU, and traditionally so is San Marino. Singapore is a weirdly-managed outlier city state, as is San Marino (and Hong Kong used to be). Qatar and the UAE are all drafting off of oil revenue, and for that matter so is Norway.

And to drive the point home, let's look at the list of US metro areas by per capita GDP.

San Jose beats every country in the world hollow. San Francisco is tied with the top entries on the list. And our tenth-richest metro area would place fifth on the list of countries by per capita gdp. (Contrast Paris at €60 and Berlin at like €42k, if my quick googling is right.)

And then to drive the point home, look at the top of the list. The richest metro area in the US isn't San Francisco or New York or Los Angeles (which at 18th and $86k doesn't even show up on that list up there, but would still put it at 8th in the world); the richest metro area in the US is some place called Midland TX. It's a small town that sits in the middle of a giant oil field, and as I understand it it's basically a base camp for all the oil work out there. So it has one thing going on, and that thing is super lucrative, and distributed across relatively few people; so it gets the top spot.

And that's why the richest countries are likely to be small.

#politics #economics #statistics

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thescrumblingmidwife · 8 months

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Hi! I know other people have sent similar asks before but I thought I'd send my own just to be sure. I can't fit more than a finger... up there. And even then its a tight fit. That's enough for me but I'm worried about if I go for a pap smear (I think that's what its called, I have a bad memory): something has to go up there right? Will it fit? What happens if it doesn't? Is it going to be a hassle to request a woman? How much do I need to "clean up"? No pressure to respond right away, I get that you're busy. I just wanna know what to expect. Thank you! 😊❤

Hi Anon!

How old are you? You don't need a pap smear until 21, and you don't need a pelvic exam at all before then unless you've got some kind of complaint or you want to get fitted for an IUD. If you are 21+ and have had zero sexual contact, you can discuss a modified schedule with your provider.

PELVIC EXAMS

Reminder - pelvic exam is when the doctor/midwife examines your pelvic area and vagina. This can include the use of a speculum or not, and be done for a number of reasons. Pap smear is a screening test where we take a cell sample (like a cheek swab) from your cervix to check for HPV/precancerous lesions. A pap smear is usually conducted in conjunction with a pelvic exam, but not all pelvic exams include a pap smear, as you don't usually need one every year.

Let's go through your questions one by one. But first I want to start by saying that medical consent is the same as regular consent - you have a right to refuse or defer any procedure or examination, or to stop one at any time. You have the right to fully understand everything you're consenting to, and ask as many questions as you need to feel comfortable. If you make an initial appointment with an OBGYN or midwife, and she doesn't pass the vibe check, you are not obligated to go through with the exam. It can be scary to stand up to someone who seems like they're in a position of power, but you should know that you can.

"Something has to go up there, right?"

At your first GYN appointment, nothing has to go anywhere. You'll meet with a provider, she'll take your full medical history, your menstrual and sexual history, your family history, ask if there are any concerns you want to discuss. At this point, you should talk to her about your issues with insertion and your anxiety about it. She may want to have a look (literally just eyeballs) to ensure there's nothing going on, but she will ask permission before doing any touching, and explain everything she's doing. If she thinks it's worth attempting a pelvic exam, she would start very slowly and only with your full buy-in. It may be necessary to try to figure out if you've got an underlying problem.

When a pelvic exam is warranted (like when you need a pap), the provider may first insert fingers while pressing on your belly (called a bimanual exam) to assess your anatomy, and then use a device called a speculum, which allows us to actually see the inside of the vagina (speculum exam). The speculum will be lubricated, and the provider will coach you through the insertion process. You can also ask about inserting it yourself. Usually, you lie back and put your legs up in stirrups, and are coached to let your knees fall out and give a deep breath out, so as to relax your pelvic floor muscles, while the speculum is inserted down and back (towards your tailbone) in a smooth motion. You'll then feel a bit of pressure as the blades of the speculum are slowly opened so the provider can peek through. It shouldn't hurt, but it can be uncomfortable. I don't know anyone who actively enjoys speculum exams, but most people would say they're not too bad. The whole thing is over in a matter of seconds.

"Will it fit?"

Speculums come in a wide range of sizes, in plastic or metal (if metal, it will be warmed). You can ask for the smallest speculum they have (they make pediatric-sized speculums, so there are definitely small ones - see middle device in the image below, about the size of a finger). The provider will use one that should fit based on your history, anxiety/preferences, and her visual inspection of you - but don't be afraid to speak up.

"What happens if it doesn't?"

If you have an anatomical variation that means even a pediatric speculum could not fit, the provider will likely catch this before you get to the speculum stage. If you've got something going on like vaginismus, this will help her diagnose you. The most likely scenario is that you just need a competent and compassionate provider you trust and some good coaching. But what will NOT happen is the provider trying to jam something into you that doesn't fit!

"Is it going to be a hassle to request a woman?"

Absolutely not. It's very normal to have gender preferences with medical providers, especially for something so sensitive. Just ask for a female provider when you're requesting your appointment. You can also ask to see a midwife -- we're something like 96-99% female-identified, with most of the rest being AFAB trans/GNC/NB. (There ARE a few male midwives, but they're really rare).

"How much do I need to 'clean up'?"

If you've got time and it would make you feel better, take a shower before you come, wash with soap and water like normal. But if you can only get in on your lunch break or something, that's fine. Otherwise, you don't need to do anything! I promise your pubic hair is not so forest-like that we will not be able to examine you. Don't douche, or use any fragrances or lotions unless you would like some patient education about how you should not use "feminine products."

Okay Anon, that's an initial GYN visit in a nutshell!

#gynecologic care #reproductive health #midwifery #pap smear #pelvic exams #women's health

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nokacchan · 2 years

Text

'My Life' | LEE FELIX

pairing : Lee Felix X Fem!reader

genre : fluff, a slice of life, wholesome

summary : Felix got invited to a variety show, 'My Life' after recently got married to y/n l/n whom he has been together for 4 years. Their relationship has always been a private one until Felix decided to join the show. This is where Felix and Y/n's private life get shown on camera for the first time ever.

"y/n...", felix called you out softly. "Hm?", you responded back, raising your head with your eyes still closed. You could hear felix chuckling before feeling his arms wrap around your waist. "Wakey wakey~", he whispered into your ear, making you grunt and move away from him. Burying your face into your pillow. "I'm going to get breakfast ready, alright", you nodded your head without moving away from your sleeping position. He kissed the top of your head before moving out of the room.

Felix stepped out of the bedroom, surprised to see many cameras, almost forgetting that they were in a shoot. "Good morning~", he greeted the crew, bowing lightly before making his way into the kitchen.

Eventually you woke up after smelling the strong aroma coming from outside your room. "Felix?", you called him, realizing he wasn't beside you.

"Hm? I'm here", he responded back as he placed the pancakes on the dining table. You peeped your head out of the room, looking out sleepily at him. Barely even noticing the number of cameras pointing in your direction. Felix turned around and saw you just standing there. You didn't even move an inch which made him let out a chuckle before making his way towards you. You immediately wrapped your arm around his body, burying your head in his chest.

"Are you still tired?", He kissed the top of your head. You nodded your head. "Come on, let's eat. I want to bring you out later", he rubbed your back, trying to wake you up.

Felix sat beside you, enjoying his meal without really noticing what was going on, on your side. "Y/n- a-are you sleeping!?", he let out a laugh, realizing you were sleeping but you were still chewing on your food. A few of the crew members burst into a fit of laughter when Felix pointed out to you. One of the cameramen zoomed into your sleeping face while Felix took out his phone to take a picture of you.

You both dressed comfortably for the summer heat. Your left arm locked around his as you guys walked into the busy area namdaemun market. The camera crew followed along with the two of you closely, gaining a lot of attention from folks at the market. The two of you were immediately recognized by local stall owners who greeted you guys politely along the way. Some even offered free samples as a kind gesture.

"babe, we should get this!", you pulled him along with you into a stall, selling cute crochet accessories. Felix watched as you ogled over the little craftsmanship infront of you. You placed some crochet flower coaster in the basket given by the stall vendor, not realizing that Felix had placed a small crocheted heart hairpin in your hair. The stall vendor pointed out while handing you the mirror to look.

"Woah~ It's so pretty", you looked at yourself in the mirror, adjusting the hairpin that Felix had placed on your hair. The stall vendor complimented you, making you feel shy. "Let's go", he spoke from behind you. You then realized that he had already paid for the items you picked out.

"Thank you", you kissed him on the cheek, making him ruffle your hair with a wide smile on his face. He held your hand while carrying the plastic in his other hand.

Your whole trip to namdaemun market went smoothly. The two of you got to meet with some STAYs who had recognized the two of you and asked for a photo together. You were thankful at how polite they were, congratulating the two of you on your marriage before politely leaving to return back to their family/friends.

The one that caught you off guard was one of the restaurants that you guys dined in, the lovely stall owner was an old Grandma. She had told you guys that her granddaughter was a big fan of Stray Kids since debut which warmed Felix's heart. When Felix asked the grandma, who was her granddaughter's bias was, the grandma pointed out that it was Felix himself. She showed the two of you the collection of stray kids albums her granddaughter had collected since your husband's debut.

Felix didn't want to seem nosy but the grandma could tell right through him. He wanted to know how her granddaughter was doing now.

"It's alright, She's currently studying at Standford University", the grandma explained which made Felix's eyes widen in surprise. "Woah, our stays are really smart", Felix talked to the camera while clapping his hand. The old Grandma smiled warmly at Felix. You smiled as you watched the two interact, reminding you of the time where Felix met your late grandmother. Felix offered to sign his autograph & write a small note to the lady's granddaughter.

"I'll make sure to give it to her when she comes back here next week. Anyways back to the two of you. May god bless you newlyweds. Felix, please take good care of your wife. She's definitely a kind soul", you both thanked her. You felt flustered at her kind comment.

Felix wished her a long healthy life ahead as he paid for the meal which the lady wanted to decline but Felix insisted on paying since it wouldn't be nice to keep receiving free stuff from everyone at the market. The lady thanked him, giving you both a hug before letting the two of you leave the restaurant. The camera crew followed along, out of the restaurants.

Felix held your hand, realizing how quiet you got. He kissed the side of your head. "Are you alright?", He whispered into your ear. You nodded your head.

Even when the shoot was over. When you guys back home with all your goods. Felix offered to cook dinner for everyone, including the camera crew. Opting to let you rest, knowing how easily tired you get.

"Let's eat well everyone!", Felix cheered as everyone gathered around the table to eat the freshly homemade food. Everyone thanked Felix as they dug into the food.

Felix sat beside you, feeding you some portion of his meal. "Thank you...", you mumbled lowly which only Felix could hear. "There's no need to thank me. I'm your husband. It's part of my job", he told you, making you smile warmly at him in return.

Felix is indeed the best husband. No doubt about that.

The end.

NOKACCHAN 2022

#lee felix fluff #lee felix x reader #lee felix x reader fluff #skz fluff #felix x you #felix x reader #felix fluff #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader

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brainicusrotticus · 3 months

Text

the crucial event that tied doc!sol and vace together:

they set off for the subaqueous swamp. sol drives the transport vehicle, and brings a bag for storing samples. he practically forced a second bag on vace, but that’s alright because vace forced sol to carry a plaspistol, in addition to bringing his own plasrifle, stun gloves, and a hunting knife.

they get to the swamp, and go about doing their thing. vace gets a bit twitchy a few times, but sol gives him the stern “don’t shoot at shit unless we’re about to die” look, and it’s enough to settle him down.

they’re there for hours. sol darting from plant to plant, vace just following and keeping an eye out.

it gets within about two hours of sundown, which means they’re going to need to leave soon. there’s also a heavy looking storm moving in, so sol is trying to get some last readings from another new species of plant that seems to have solid healing properties.

vace seems on edge. he’s usually been quietly pacing about, always looking out for shit. but sol takes a quick breather from this plant, and realizes vace is standing very nearby, and very still.

something feels off, but vace can’t tell what it is. and that’s not good.

sol takes him seriously, because that’s what vace is there for. he upholsters his plaspistol (for show, because it’s not like he actually know how to use the thing), goes for a sample of this last plant, and then they’ll get moving back to the transport.

first rule of vertumna: it’s never just a plant.

this plant turns out to be the hook for a creature fairly reminiscent of a snapbladder. and the second sol touches it, the trap springs.

it gets a decent clamp on sol. across his left shoulder and chest. it’s clearly not sized for human prey, but it’s bite is strong enough. it’ll bruise, and its teeth break the skin, but it’s not all that worrying.

it lets go when vace fires some non-lethal shots into it, and scurried away. vace goes to check on the doc, who assures him that it’s all fine.

but they haven’t been unnoticed. all day, noctilucent has been keeping tabs on them. waiting for a good opportunity to strike. and what better opening than worried distraction?

but he’s mean. he aims for the hard hits.

he drops a tree on them.

vace manages to swing the doc out of the way, and takes the full force of a falling tree on himself. not that solane being present would’ve changed that, then they’d just both take the full force of a falling tree. and it would end much worse for one of them.

it’ll leave some bruises on him. might’ve even left a few small cracks in the bones. but this is vace. he’ll be fine.

there’s only one major problem.

his legs are pinned under it. and he’s strong, but not super strong, and it’s hard to get proper leverage when you’re face down on the ground. sol is managed to catch his breath after being thrown to the ground (really just failing to catch himself), and is about to get up and go to vace…

but noctilucent emerges from the bushes. still dripping, like he’d crawled right out of the swamp water.

(he did)

sol hasn’t met noct before, but he knows about gardeners from sym

particularly that there are a number of gardeners who want the whole colony gone. and who think “dead” is good enough.

and in this particular scenario? he doesn’t really get the feeling this is going to be a friendly chat. he wonders if noct was the one responsible for the looming stormclouds.

noct knows how to threat assess. also, he’s been watching them all day. he knows that one of these individuals knows how to use a gun, and the other is a goddamn nerd. so vace presently being stuck under a tree? means that problem can be dealt with immediately.

so noct goes to him.

and stomps on vace’s head with those ugly ass hooves of his.

but, it’s vace. he’s built different. it’ll leave a bump, and left a little split in the skin that bleeds a bit, but it’s probably not even enough for a concussion.

(sol definitely has that brief moment of “i just witnessed a murder” before he remembered vace’s augment)

but noct keeps going. he gets another 3-4 in before sol throws himself on vace, literally wrapping around noctilucent’s leg like an octopus. screaming for him to stop.

and noct backs up a step. mostly because he’s surprised by the sheer audacity sol is showing.

and sol covers vace’s body with his own.

he doesn’t know how to fight. his plaspistol isn’t in reach, he can’t see vace’s plasrifle, the only thing he has is the knowledge that gardeners don’t die when their body is killed. he isn’t a soldier.

but he has to be.

vace is out of it. he seems to be wavering on consciousness, but his legs are still stuck and he definitely has at least a concussion now.

sol is the only one who can help them right now.

he’s shaking and sobbing, pressed overtop of vace. he can see something like amusement in noct’s eyes, and it pushes him that much further.

noct leans down. he wants to meet this human eye to eye, to mock sol for this before he kills them both. he’s absolutely focused on the full-faced misery of sol.

it’s classic, really. a common trick used by magicians in old holovids.

misdirection.

noct doesn’t see sol work vace’s knife free of the belt. he isn’t as guarded with sol. this human has only ventured beyond the colony a handful of times, and has never shown any prowess for combat.

sol isn’t a threat.

and as the doctor, lightning quick, wraps a hand around the back of noctilucent’s neck and slices so deep he leaves a cut across his own palm, he wonders if noct will remember this. feel some primal unease the next time he sees solane. or if, like his recent memories, all sense of threat melts away with his body.

the sprinkling rain is starting to grow heavier. sol uses a thick branch to leverage the tree off of vace, and wishes desperately that he had the time to fully exam the damage.

but he doesn’t. utopia will probably realize something is wrong soon—probably sent a message to the transport when stratos picked up on the storm moving in, and is waiting for a response that indicates they’re heading back to the colony.

when it doesn’t come, she’ll report them as missing. normal protocol is a search and rescue party.

but the storm would make for hostile conditions. if it raises the water too much, there are parts of the road that’ll flood, and they might not even be able to get a squad to the swamp. unless the storm blows over in minutes (which is possible, if not likely), it’ll be nightfall or later by the time anyone can make it.

and nighttime isn’t a good time for a rescue squad. it just puts more people at risk. in most cases, they’d wait until day. rhett wouldn’t get any sleep over the worry and guilt, but he’d make the choice anyway.

except, maybe, for sol.

he’s a doctor. the only one who knows what to do besides instance. he has more old-school knowledge than instance, and a xenobotanist background. he’s valuable, and he hates knowing that. that someone might consider it worthwhile to risk other lives to save his own.

but others can be trained. medbeds can handle just about any problem, as long as they stay functional. rhett knows that, as much as he knows sol wouldn’t want others to risk themselves unnecessarily for him.

the doctor honestly doesn’t know what choice rhett will make, and doesn’t envy him having to make it.

(he’ll buy something nice for the security chief, if he gets out of this.)

(when. it has to be when.)

vace is conscious enough to move, a little. support his own weight, hopefully. but that’s about it.

sol gets him up, supports his weight on one side. vace has about eight inches and ninety pounds on sol, which is a fucking problem.

sol puts on his best rhett voice, and barks orders at vace. “time to push it, soldier! if you don’t, we’re both dead!”

he can’t honestly tell if it helped. he knows vace can’t do much. he knows he was mostly saying it for himself.

because if sol can’t manage this, they’re both dead.

they might get lucky. rhett might send a squad after all. nem might defy orders to come after them herself. dys might come for sol’s sake, with her or own his own. he might even get word to sym.

but sol can’t act like help is coming. can’t let himself do anything less than as much as he fucking can.

the sun has set by the time he gets them back to the transport, drenched and muddy and shaking. he barely manages to open the sliding door with one hand, and then has to lay vace on the floor from outside, get in, and drag him the rest of the way. he pulls wads of fabric from between his own teeth, put there to keep his teeth from cracking when he clenched it shut.

he can barely get the scraps out, with how tightly wound the muscles are. that’ll hurt in the morning.

(he’ll just add it to the list.)

he locks them inside the transport, and takes a chance to examine vace. he’s semi-conscious, definitely has a concussion. he can talk, a little, and vaguely understand context.

(he swears, mostly. given the context, yeah. sounds about right.)

the bleeding has stopped. there are some cracks in his skull, but nothing that feels imminently dangerous. already bruises and a hell of a black eye, and sol is pretty sure there’s a fracture along his left orbital bone. but those are all things a medbed can handle just fine. as long as he makes it to one.

sol straps vace into one of the bench seats, and gets the transport started. as expected, there’s several messages from utopia, and one from rhett. the storm interferes too much with comms for much to get through, but sol does what he can. a distress signal, canceled after three seconds. three seconds of silence, and then the signal sent again, canceled after three seconds. deliberate enough for them to know it’s a message.

he starts the transport home.

about ten minutes of slow travel down the road, it’s flooded. sol isn’t going to risk it, not after what he just went through. he parks them.

he unbuckles vace so he can lay the soldier down on the seats, and try to get some sleep. sol takes the floor, and sleeps in fits.

eventually, he jolts awake to the sound of a quiet drizzle.

he straps vace back in. he’s relieved to hear the mumbled complaints about ruining his sleep.

the floods come fast in the swamp, but they leave that way, too.

it takes another hour and a half, but eventually he sees the lights of the colony.

utopia and rhett are already at the outer post, pacing and watching the road. they see the approaching transport before the lookouts do, but not before dys and nem.

both of whom are sequestered right next to the security chief, and looking rather dour.

sol can see how much self restraint it takes to wait for the transport to roll in, and not just run to it.

as soon as it’s parked, someone starts trying to yank the door open.

(it’s locked and dead bolted, because sol wasn’t taking any chances.)

he unlocks it, and rhett yanks it open before sol can. all the doctor manages to say is vace’s name, before he’s being unbuckled and carried out in rhett’s arms.

held like a princess, limp and soaked in a way that makes his clothes and hair cling to him, vace looks like the kid he is. barely sixteen, too young to be dealing with this shit.

(they both are. hell, all of them are.)

sol doesn’t need help to move. he knows he looks like shit, but his adrenaline has been running so high for so long that he sprints ahead to prepare a medbed.

instance is waiting, but she knows someone who needs work when she sees it. she’ll be the one who cleans and cares for sol’s own wounds later, in the quiet silence of an active medbed. tang will uncurl from the corner where she’d been watching owlishly, to play the part of nursing assistant.

vace will be under for three days. it’ll heal all the worrying injuries, but sol knows the soldier can’t stand to spend forever in a medbed, even if he doesn’t remember it.

(and he doesn’t remember the medbed. but he does remember a surprising amount of that day. remembers the dissonance of hearing sol sobbing while also feeling deft fingers work his knife loose. knows noct died, and he couldn’t have been the one to do it. gets flashes of the slog back, of sol carrying him when he could only feel frustration at his weak, sluggish legs slipping in the mud.)

they’re different, after that. sol never acts like vace owes him anything, and starts taking self-defense lessons. neither one of them actually suggested it. they just made eye contact across the cafeteria one morning a week after the event, and walked to the garrison together to start.

vace trusts sol to do what’s necessary, and to know what that is. it’s hard not to, when you know the empathetic, xeno-loving doctor willingly killed a gardener. his trust grows from there.

and sol trusts vace to have subtlety, and sympathy. he never says more about that day than what sol himself admits, even after he tells sol he remembers it. he seems to pick up on the days when it’s really bothering the doctor, and finds a way to hover nearby. whether it makes sol feel safe, or reminds him that he saved someone, vace doesn’t know.

seeing the most trusted kids from each ship suddenly get along has a deep impact on not just their peers, but the adults too.

(lum hates it. he never managed to scare them, but he could usually get them to cooperate. now they do nothing less than exactly what they think is right, and the few times he’s tried to control them, they both just fixed him with a stare that said he was a problem they could solve the moment they decided to.)

it’s the start of a new era for stratos-helios relations.

the violent soldier who toughened the kind doctor, and let himself be soothed in return.

(nothing changed in them. not really.)

(they just learned how to balance.)

(and everyone else followed suit.)

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an0nfr0mth3d3n · 6 months

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Qsmp experimentation au (barely an au this is canon for several members but I’m extending it to the whole cast)

This post contains some levels of medical discussion, all fake.

All of the islanders are brought to a main federation facility as kids (including immortals in this au they are all around the same age but still are their species) and either are born in the facility (baghera), donated to the facility (Bagi and cellbit), or kidnapped for the facility (most of the other kids).

The federation is an organization that doesn’t work for any country government, but is basically a rogue institution that tries to make breakthroughs in science. They sell these breakthroughs to the highest bidding country so they can have the credit of discovery while the federation gets rich. They are rogue because to make these advancements, they find it faster to resort to…unsavory methods.

Child experimentation.

The federation as of now studies hybrids, diseases, radiation, dark matter, longevity, transformation, and a number of other subjects.

At first most of the children were quarantined in small groups, but were getting unruly and restless with the lack of entertainment (the federation are NOT good at raising kids) so the federation let them all come out of their rooms at scheduled times for “enrichment time”.

On top of that the federation has quite generously given (some) of the better behaving kids little stuffed toys. They refused to give some of the more mischievous kids toys (pac and Mike are some of the most destructive kids there). This is also in part to the fact that the federation refuses to spend too much money on the kids themselves. Luckily, the kids are more or less a tightly knit group and managed to share, trading the plushy around to whoever had the hard tests, blood drawn, or just had a bad day. Some kids are subjected to crueler testing, and the others will let that kid borrow their plushy as well. (As the first demon the federation captured, Bad had experienced quite a lot of harsh tests especially focused on longevity, which deals in lots of blood and tissue samples, so the other kids would often let him borrow their plushies especially if he was going into another surgery, nowadays the blood and tissue samples are taken from the other two captured demons as Bad now is going through radiation experimentation)

Unfortunately, the federation refuses to replace any broken toys…so several plushies have been broken and were thrown out.

The kids say they would be fine with broken plushies but the federation refuses to let them play with broken toys…one of the worst things that happened was little Bobby, Roier and Jaiden’s shared plushy, ripped its leg. All of the kids pleaded for Roier and Jaiden to be able to keep their plushy, and after most of them went through a physical fitness examination in order to get the toy back, the federation made them watch as the toy was taken away from them…

One of the current fascinations of the federation was a mysterious disease? Substance? Being even? they called “dark matter” due to its strange properties. The federation chose the elected leader of the kids to undergo this horrible experiment as this kid, Forever, was in peak physical condition. Poor Forever was exposed to the dark substance in a quarantined room for about a week, and is currently in critical condition that is slowly getting worse. He was allowed to stay a little distance away from the others at first, but after collapsing (several times) the federation has since quarantined him to the room next to Bad. Luckily there was a glass wall so they could talk and play (as well as they could play, Bad had Dapper, his own plushy but Forever refused to carry Richarlyson into the room with him despite the urging of the other kids he shared it with, believing that the matter would attach itself to the little plushy…) Sadly, they are quite separated now, as Forever is bedridden, with several IVs hooked up to him. The federation has managed to slow the spread of the dark matter, but not reverse it, and many of the kids are worried sick for the golden wolf (My au) hybrid.

Speaking of Bad…The federation, after years of taking tissue, bone, and blood samples have determined that he is one of the very few children that could withstand the radiation experiment. After one of the worst psychological survival studies the federation conducted (aptly named “Purgatory”) Bad, along with all of the other children, were sedated and taken from the large arena they were forced into, however Bad was exposed to a highly radioactive core in his sleep, and then placed in a quarantined room. He experienced heavy amounts of memory loss, although that could have been trauma sustained from the event (they suspect this due to mental trauma shown on several other children, the most serious cases being Baghera and Cellbit who were quarantined due to being a danger to the other children). Bad would lose his memory unless in possession or around the plushies that acted as an anchor to his mental health. (Sometimes the kids would visit the quarantine section from a safe distance and interact with the quarantined kids through a heavy glass barrier). Other than horrible nightmares, coughing up blood, tasting metal, and the massive glowing rips on his back, he seems to be doing just fine (he might be dying as well). Currently the federation is trying to use soul vulture poison to counteract the damage which should totally work fine.

But even if it doesn’t, Bad and Forever both were partially chosen because they clicked well with one of the abilities of one of the other kids, one of the most coveted experiments of the federation, the shark-totem hybrid Foolish. This rambunctious kid somehow manages to cheat death…for others. It doesn’t work for everyone, as they discovered with the late Spreen, but for some random kids, Foolish is able to, through contact, transfer half of the life force from himself to a dying person. This of course makes him sustain horrible damage, but the hope is to save both children. Foolish of course says he would rather die than save Bad if he were to die, but the Feds have told him he doesn’t really have much of a choice.

Have character questions? Send me asks!

#qsmp #qsmp experiment au #qsmp federation #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp au #qsmp forever #qsmp foolish

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thezombieprostitute · 10 months

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Alphas & Algorithms

A/N: Written for the @the-slumberparty Bingo card, combining "Tinder Date" and "Dystopian AU" (the former is a bit weak, but it still holds). Reader is referred to as she/her and tall but no other descriptors.

Warnings: It is a Dystopian AU. Food scarcity, hunger, mentions of families being separated. Please let me know if I missed any!

A/N2: I've officially gotten my bingo card to where there are NO bingos and the next thing I write will result in a minimum of 2 bingos in one!

--Part 2--

--Series Masterlist--

The AI had started slowly. Subtly integrating itself into every facet of society. Once it was ready, its takeover was fast and bloody. Packs were still bearing the scars of it even now. There had been attempts to overthrow the AI but it learned from each try. As potent as its algorithms were it recognized that there would always be a small percentage of humanity that it would never be able to fully predict. That’s when it recruited the Omegas.

Because Omegas were naturally attuned to the emotional and psychological well-being of those around them, the AI began to use them when investigating civilians. The AI’s algorithm could easily pick out which citizens had the highest probabilities of rebelling against the system or even committing minor infractions, but the Omegas had proven themselves in being able to confirm or deny the reality of those probabilities.

They didn’t want to help the AI but it understood the importance of Packs and would not hesitate to use their Packmates against them. It would focus on the Alphas as their bigger, stronger forms were deemed “not needed” in the world the AI had created. To save their Packmates, the Omegas ended up working for the AI. They were rewarded for accurate prediction and harshly punished for incorrect ones.

Over the generations Omegas were gradually separated from Packs all together. Their training earned them the derogatory nickname “Pets”. When there was a noticeable drop in the Omega population the AI’s data indicated an Alpha/Omega mating was much more likely to result in Omegas than any other combination.

And that’s what led to Y/N being here, at what her Alpha mother had derisively called “the Tinder App”. Y/N didn’t know what that meant but guessed it was based on some older technology. The AI consistently kept data on known Alphas and had collected 10 of the most biologically compatible with her, the Alphas most likely to give the AI more Omegas. The 10 boxes in front of her contained a sample of their scents. If she liked the scent, it was to be put to the right of the table. If she didn’t, it went to the left.

“What if I don’t like any of them,” she whispered to Jake. He was her best friend and Emotional Support Beta. He’d been assigned to her the minute she presented as an Omega. His role was both emotional support (in place of pack-bonding) as well as leverage for the AI to use against her.

“Don’t worry,” Jake whispered back. “I’ve personally evaluated at least half of them and I know you’ll find a few that you like.”

“How did you manage that?”

“I logiced with the AI that I could help reduce the number of disliked scents, optimizing the chances of you finding a good mate. Now go on and give the sniff test.” He pushed Y/N forward a bit.

The first few scents were nice enough. Nothing particularly noticeable or unpleasant. She decided to keep those in the middle until she’d checked out a few others. The fifth scent made her go into a coughing fit.

“Woah, there,” Jake grabbed and hugged her while she kept coughing. “What the hell is in that box?!”

“I dunno but it smells like when you fry up dried spicy peppers and the smoke gets everywhere,” Y/N explained between coughs. “When that Alpha’s having a good day it’d be like adding a bit of spice and seasoning to bland foods. But when he’s having a bad day, it’d be like smelling bear spray.” Jake winces in sympathy and Y/N promptly moves the box to the left. Neither notices the AI crossing off the name “Hansen, L.” from its list of potential Alphas.

When Y/N recovered she went back to one of the mildly pleasant scents to clean her palette. She ended up moving a couple more to the left because, after the shock to her system with the smoky pepper scent, these ones just felt especially bland.

The sixth and seventh scents were at least interesting so she moved those to the right. The next scent almost made her knees shake with how good it was. It smelled like the warmth of a fire on a cold night, a light in the darkness that promised safety and companionship. On a good day there was warmth, food and safety. On a bad day it was just a lot of smoke that seemed to follow you no matter where you sat around it. It was definitely a keeper and she moved it to the right.

The ninth scent made her freeze in a way Jake recognized as fear so he immediately comforted her and put away the offending scent. She described the scent as “a glacier in the ocean. You might think you’re far enough away but you’re not. On a good day, you can see it clearly and try to avoid it. On a bad day, there’s fog everywhere, the ship sinks and you have to choose between drowning and hypothermia.” As she recovers from another shock, the AI crosses off “Drysdale, R.” from its list.

The final scent was almost as good as the campfire one. She smelled it a few times and enjoyed the sensation of a cold front breaking the heatwave, making outside life bearable again. On the bad days, it would bring a blizzard and cover everything, but on the good days, relief. She almost wished she could have both Alphas as she moved the final scent to the right. But then she reminded herself of her promise to not be like her Omega father and that she wanted to be a good mate to whatever Alpha she ended up with. Probably would be easier if she only had one Alpha to dote on.

Every time Curtis woke up he expected that he’d finally be numb to the pain his body plagued him with. Every time he was disappointed. His Alpha designation meant he was deemed to be only suitable for heavy labor and drudgery work. Betas do the smart stuff, Omegas do the snitching, and Alphas do what labor the AI hasn’t replaced with robots, he thought to himself. He took a deep breath and got up.

The rest of the pack was starting to stir as well. Only the pups were allowed to sleep a little later as they not only needed the rest but it gave the adults a few minutes of quiet in the mornings. Timmy, Yona and Andy weren’t rowdy kids, but some mornings were tougher than others. Curtis was especially protective of them since his own brother had been taken to be a whipping boy for some Omega several years ago. The only comfort his pack got was that, at the start of the month, they received credits equivalent to whatever wages he would’ve earned had he still been with them. Curtis hoped it was also a sign that he was still alive.

Tanya and Andrew were just divvying up the ration packs for everyone for the day. They had to be careful since the AI kept touting that everyone was getting the exact amount of vitamins and minerals they needed each day. That knowledge didn’t help with the hunger and Curtis wondered if it was a side-effect of an Alpha physique to need more. He’d never ask for more, of course, but he still wondered.

Tanya smiled as best she could and handed Curtis his rations when there was a loud bang on the door that woke up everyone. The entire pack on edge, Curtis called out, “who is it?”

“AI Security Drone. Please open the door or we will break it down.” The pups started silently crying in fear as the other pack members tried to calm them down. Curtis stepped up and opened the door but did not let the drone inside. Alphas might not have practical skills for this day and age but dammit he was going to follow his instincts to protect his pack as best he could.

He blinked as the drone scanned his face and told him, “Curtis Everett. You have been selected for courting by an Omega. You are to come with me to prepare. Your pack will be compensated with the credits you would have earned today at work.”

Curtis froze in place, mentally cursing the AI and its ever invasive data collection. He heard one of the pups behind him crying for him to not go but he knew they’d be hurt worse if he didn’t comply.

He sighed heavily and asked, “can I say goodbye to my pack, first?”

“You have been granted 3 minutes to say goodbye for the day.”

Curtis turned back and did his best Alpha purr to comfort the pups. He also snuck his day’s rations into Yona’s pocket. He wasn’t sure he was going to need it and figured they definitely could. He said his goodbyes, not knowing if he’d ever see his pack again, and headed out with the drone.

Part 2

#alpha!curtis everett x omega!reader #curtis everett x tall!reader #curtis everett x reader #navy and roo's sleepover #tall reader #tall!reader

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sucrosette · 7 months

Text

★— ⋆｡˚ [What If We Rewrite the Stars?]

For Day 4 of Carry on Countdown 23, Stars.

On proposals.

Rated M for Baz and Simon getting (un)surprisingly frisky.

⋆｡˚

If Basilton ever proposed to anyone– not that he had anyone in mind, and certainly not his roommate who wanted very much to defang him and who Basilton certainly did not want to snog– he already had his plan laid out. Mage weddings were notoriously elaborate and romantic, as anyone with their thumb to the page of Mage Histories would have been well aware, so of course Basilton, best mage in his class, would already have his plan. Not only did he have the general populace of magekind to contest with, but also his very own mother.

Everyone bloody well knew she’d hung the moon for his father. Basilton couldn’t hide the scowl the thought of his father brought him, shaking his head to clear his mind of it. He refocused himself back to the empty field before him and then up to the clear sky above.

If his mother had hung the moon, he could bloody well rewrite the stars.

It’s in the theory of it, not the literalness of the thing. He wasn’t trying to throw the entire universe out of sorts or ruin planetary alignments. What Basilton was going for was a simpler thing, the illusion of rearranging them. He wasn’t entirely sure into what yet, at least not for the proposal, he knew that should be more personal, but for this practice bout, he has an idea.

He’d already tried a number of quotes from the classics, “I defy you, stars”, “there was a star danced”, “the stars are painted”, and that was only a small sampling of the Shakespeare he’d performed for the empty field and night sky, but nothing had taken yet. He’d tried any number of classics, a good few popular modern publications, several different poems, and just about any song that had broached the top one hundred in the past decade that also made mention of the barest, but nothing had taken yet.

Today, Baz is trying something a little off the cuff. Not exactly about the stars directly, but maybe something that could cause that illusion. ‘You would not believe your eyes–’ his wand flourishing elegantly out and up towards the starts, but as soon as the phrase leaves his lips, the field floods with fireflies. Fireflies. Which were not stars. He supposed at least something had happened, but the phrases were too tied together, either as some sort of ubiquitous social thought or a pervasive tie within his own mind.

Baz lets out a sigh and sits himself back down in the grass, hand resting palm up on his knee, facing the swarm of lightning bugs in front of him, staring off into utter nothingness. A firefly lands on his palm, it’s little legs tickling at sensitive skin.

So they were real.

Basilton was probably going to get in trouble for this.

⋆｡˚

The moment Baz knows he’s going to ask Simon Snow to marry him is the same moment they’d banished the room to a swirling galaxy all around them. He’s awestruck, confused, alight with affection for the soft contact between their hands, even amid all the violent, frustrated thoughts flying about his head in a haphazard flurry.

He knows he shouldn’t think such ridiculous things about Simon Snow. It’s not like he’s ever going to confess to him, let alone ask Snow to marry him, but Crowley, something about the stars pulled down into their room is doing something to him. It’s not the feeling of fire in his veins, nor the crackling electricity on his skin, nor even the ridiculous alluring way Simon looks all open and vulnerable like this, but the whole situation.

Of course it was ‘Twinkle, twinkle little star!’ he’d spoken the magick into. He knows it’s not a spell, he’d tried it a dozen and a half times before this in a dozen and a half different ways and come to nothing for it. But this time, burned clean with Simon’s magickal fire at his fingertips…

This is as close as he’s gotten to success, it’s more magnificent than he could have possibly envisioned in all his years as a mageling up to this. It would probably be better than he could ever hope to deliver too, but that doesn’t matter to Baz in the moment. All he can think is there’s no one else he’d rather share a sight like this with than Simon Snow.

Merlin and Morgana’s sake, he’s a bloody lovestruck nitwit and Baz has never been more certain of anything before. He’s going to ask this ninny to marry him one day, if they both survive the year.

⋆｡˚

It happens two years after their graduation. Simon and he both are on break from classes and Baz’s father and stepmum have flown the girls to the states for their own hols away from home. Oh sure, Baz and Simon could’ve joined, but an extended stay with his dad sounds like hell to Baz, so Baz and Simon decide to take their holiday in Ireland. Well, rather Baz decides and Simon can’t deny it’d be nice for a change of scenery. Okay, so the weather wouldn’t be much different from London, but he’d never been before, and Baz excited always makes for a good time.

Apparently, the mages in Ireland are absolutely insane, in that their spells are like nothing anywhere else in the world, old magicks still running wild throughout the lands, but also in that they also throw a damn good holiday party. Baz has never been one to avoid an excuse to show up and show off, especially now that he’s got such a divine dancing partner. Simon makes excuses, says he doesn’t know the steps, he’s got two left feet, he’ll trip them both up, but he lets Baz drag him around from place to place anyway.

He doesn’t like to be in the spotlight anymore, Baz knows, not on his own. But Baz also knows when he’s holding Simon’s waist and leading him in their dances, in their lives, the world falls away from both of them, leaving everything but the music and their footsteps behind.

It’s an impulse, a moment of downtime between the parties and the socializing and sightseeing, a moment where Basilton doesn’t have anything planned in his neatly penned itinerary, and Simon sights a theatre across the way from their cafe where Baz had been enjoying coffee and cake.

“Let’s see a movie,” Simon hums between sips of his thick cocoa, eyeing the titles in the display across the way.

Baz hums his own acknowledgment, watching Simon more than anything else around them, nodding before Simon even decides on a feature for them. “Why not? We can have an easy night tonight too, take the night off dancing and stay in our room, enjoy some whiskey in our bed, kick our feet up.”

Simon’s eyes are already twinkling, his feet tapping under the table excitedly, and Baz knows he’s made the right decision immediately.

It’s a musical they agree on, something loud and high energy, in contrast to Baz’s idea of a lazy evening, but Baz can never say no to a musical, and Simon doesn’t really care one way or another whatever they watch. So it’s a musical they’re watching.

It happens not too long after the hour point in the movie. The song starts playing. Not just any song, but The Song. Baz hears it and he knows this is going to be the song that changes everything about his proposal, that it’s going to be powerful enough, popular enough, to sink into every blade of grass and tree and rock and, oh this song is going to be good magick. There’s not a doubt in his mind.

His fingers are already twitching to find his wand and try it, iching to see if he could get it right the first try, to see if the magick’s already powerful enough for it. Simon must sense his insane spike in energy though, because his hand snakes out to grasp Baz’s and twine their fingers together, squeezing over his digits and bringing him back from the machinations of magick for the rest of the movie.

Simon listens through all Baz’s technical ramblings on the music, the inspirations the writer’s must’ve taken, the absolute chops on one singer in particular, the confusing choices made about the one singer who had supposedly been an operatic. Simon listens patiently through it all until warm whiskey settles Baz’s anxious energy and the movie’s finally forgotten between their lips.

“You’re terribly adorable when you get like this, you know, Pitch?” Simon asks before stealing a soft, slow kiss, his warm hands cupping Baz’s cool cheeks to keep them close together. Simon presses Baz’s back down to the mattress and climbs atop him, knees braced at Baz’s waist, straddling him slow, kisses trailing tender along Baz’s jaw and cheeks until Baz is humming low for him.

Baz’s hands wander up Simon’s bare back, following the notches of his spine tenderly, mapping his back all the way up to his wings, even though Baz knows these plains of Simon better than he knows his own hands. “Oh, shut up, Snow,” Baz groans, voice heated between shared kisses, lips wet with their want, “You’re just as bad going on about any and every new pastry we try.”

“I am,” Simon doesn’t even bother to deny it, kisses wandering over Baz’s neck, marking him with soft love bites, sucking the skin underneath dark with his affections, “But there’s better things to think about right now, aren’t there?”

Baz’s fingers crawl up Simon’s wings, dragging soft over their leather, lips quirking into a frown. Simon wasn’t wrong, he supposed, but he wasn’t going to just say it outright. “Why don’t you tell me what you’d like me focusing on, love, and we’ll go from there…”

Simon kisses a soft trail down Baz’s chest, unbuttoning his perfectly pressed shirt as he goes, “You know what I want, Baz.”

One of Baz’s hands slides off Simon’s wings to grip over Simon’s ass, gripping tight and forcing them to grind together, pulling a sharp gasp from Simon above him, the nails remaining edging just on this side of sharp against sensitive joints. “Words, love. I won’t ask nicely again.”

“You,” Simon rasps into his chest, nosing over the soft hair there, “Just you.”

Baz’s tongue darts out to wet his own lips, grinding them together again before that same hand slips to wrap Simon’s tail about his wrist, tugging it sharp in the moments following. “Needy thing,” Baz murmurs back, but he doesn’t argue against it. Baz’s always been terribly bad at denying Simon when he was honest with him, “I’ll give you what you want, love of mine, all you want and more…”

The moments melt into hours like that, between heated kisses and soft marks burned into skin, hands tugging in hair, gasps and moans lost to the air between them. Naught between their skin but Simon’s whispered worship and Baz’s quiet praise, pressing closer and closer into each other until nothing remained but each other.

Still, it keeps playing in Baz’s head the next morning, that week, through their anniversary and the rest of the month too. “Rewrite the Stars,” the song rang in his mind, and Baz knew that was exactly what he intended to do, what he’d always intended to do.

#Carry On Countdown #COC 2023 #baz pitch #simon snow #snowbaz #carry on fanfiction #my writing #there might be one more scene to this cooking #not sure if i have the chops for the grand proposal itself though

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toyybox · 26 days

Text

Spiderwebs #35: Valentine

Masterlist

content: intimate whumper, carewhumper, some suggestive themes (No explicit content)

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Another day, another hotel. They left in the morning. Heather shook him awake at five o’clock sharp. He packed his things, despite his complaints and fatigue, and he made himself comfortable in the car. The roads blurred together. He tried to look out for signs, the name of a city or even a new state, but found none.

The new hotel was somewhat nicer. They didn’t have a free breakfast, or a minifridge, but they did have a television and a larger fridge, plus a small chandelier in the room—for whatever reason—as well as free soap samples in the bathroom. Rosehip scented. Jackie kept a few in his pocket, then collapsed onto the bed. It was much more comfortable-looking. The fabric was hazel-coloured and smelled like laundry detergent.

Heather’s mood was slightly better, or she had learned to hide her emotions more thoroughly. She did not say anything, only sat on the swivel chair and stared at the painting on the wall. It was a river scene. Probably Venice. Gondolas and lanterns glowing yellow over flat waters, with a stilted house or two in the background. The painting was real, not printed out, and Jackie could even make out the thick, textured strokes of acrylic on its surface.

Jackie sat up. “Do you like this one?”

“Which one?”

“The hotel.”

“It’s fine.” She shifted her gaze to look out the window instead. It wasn’t floor-length, like the last window, but it was long. The sky had darkened somewhat. According to the clock on the wall, it was half-past six.

“Where are we?”

“Bellevue.”

“Oh, I’ve gone to Bellevue before.” This was a lie—Jackie never had the money to travel—but he really needed something to talk about. He didn’t want to look uncultured. Anyway, he knew enough about the city. “They have a botanical garden.”

“I’m not a botanist.”

“Yeah, but we could still go there. Just visit.”

“We could.” But she said nothing else on the matter.

Jackie sighed. “What are we going to do, then?”

“Nothing. Stay here.” She finally turned her head to look at him. “Are you bored?”

“A little.”

“Read a book. Or go to sleep.”

There were two beds. That was an option, but not an appealing one. He didn’t want to sleep. He wasn’t fatigued anymore, just restless.

So he took out his book instead. He stared at the pages. He turned a few pages. He rolled over onto his back, so he could hold up the book and read that way. He rolled back onto his stomach. He sat up. He got off the bed, and read while walking in languid circles. He sat on the sofa. He sat on the floor—also carpet, also dark brown, but thicker. He stood up and leaned against the wall. He sat back down on the bed.

And then he glanced at the clock. Two minutes had passed.

“You get bored very easily,” Heather said.

He put the book down. “I’m not a gentle soul like you.”

“Well, then.” She laced her hands together. “I’m bored too.”

“Can we go to the garden, then?”

“No. It’s too risky.” She unlaced her hands. “What did you do all day, back in the basement? Other than reading and drawing.”

“I went to sleep.”

“Nothing else?”

“Sometimes I would bang my head against the wall?”

“Thanks for the suggestion.” She paused. “I could take up smoking.”

Jackie let out a mock gasp. “Heather!”

“What?” She smiled a little. “I have good lungs.”

“Yeah, but I don’t. I’ll be coughing all the time.”

“Didn’t you buy cigarettes?”

“And look where that got me. What about the T.V.?”

The television stared silently at them both, startled out of its easy background role. It wasn’t a flatscreen, but boxy ones had a wry charm of their own. How odd, that such a sleek hotel should contain such an anachronism. It was big enough to watch from the bed, at least. The remote lay beside it, blocky and black, beside a flyer with all the hotel service numbers.

“That’s a fair point.” She stood up and took the remote. The television flickered on with the push of a button. There were a few channel numbers inlaid yellow-on-blue, plus an option for movies.

“Interesting,” Heather said in a rather flat tone.

“There’s nothing else to do. We might as well, yeah?”

“What? Watch the news?”

Jackie scoffed. “No, silly. Watch a movie. Don’t tell me that biochemists don’t watch movies.”

“I watch movies.” She walked over and shoved the remote into his hands. “Of course I watch movies. I’m not some kind of recluse.”

“Oh, do you? Name one movie.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” She turned off the lights, then curled up on the bed beside him. “Just hurry up and pick something.”

He clicked through the options. Nothing very interesting. Jackie only liked depressing French films in black-and-white, but hotels didn’t usually offer those. There were a few slasher flicks, though. Perhaps the blood would appeal to Heather.

“How about Saw?” he asked.

“No, it’s unrealistic. You’d die of sepsis before any of the stupid traps.”

“Okay, how about Halloween Three?”

“It’s not even October.”

“Alright, alright, Texas Chainsaw Massacre?”

She made a face at him.

“What? You love chainsaw massacres.”

“Too soon, Jackie.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry. What if we watch Psycho?”

She shrugged. “Fine.”

He didn’t care much for horror movies either, but it was better in comparison to everything else. Psycho was a classic, at least. Or so he had heard. As the introduction played, Jackie was still bored, but he was glad the room wasn’t dead quiet anymore.

His gaze wandered away from the movie, towards Heather beside him. In the light of the television, neon and always awake, she looked so different. He followed the motion of her eyelids, the way her eyelashes dipped as she blinked, the light reflecting against them in a waxy line then scattering apart.

He did not deserve anybody’s affection, least of all Heather’s. He was unable to even let go of what was hurting him, unable to rip the arrow from his chest—still, he would do anything for her. He had gouged his own heart out, and he would do it again. That had to mean something. He wasn’t completely useless, was he?

Heather wasn’t actually watching the movie, and neither was he. She stared at the floor, bit at the edge of her lip, and he stared at her. He was happy, but something caught in his chest and welled up in his throat. He got the strange urge to lean against her. Press up against her shoulder. Put his head there, breathe in and out, let everything else fade away…

Well, this was all foreign to him. He didn't know what to say, how to act. He knew how to behave and talk politely, but there was no skill in that. Nobody had ever wanted him like this before.

Heather was different. She kept him around. She wanted him to stay.

That’s because she kidnapped you, idiot.

Yes. Maybe it was delusion. Maybe it was pareidolia, to see patterns where there were none. But he could pretend. They could smooth that uneven detail over. They could forgive and forget and let live, just leave it be and let it go. And to be wanted was to be wanted; the legality of it was irrelevant.

He wasn’t sure what to do now. He couldn’t ask her outright. No, he had lost enough dignity already. He moved a little closer to her on the bed. Not enough to touch her, but close enough that they could touch if she wanted, hypothetically, possibly, maybe, to touch.

She turned her head towards him. Her hair shifted around her shoulders, spilling over them like woven silk, or like they were carved from marble, in perfect sheafs and sections. That familiar gaze seared into him, still distant and piercing, but not so cold anymore.

Someone was screaming on the television. The sound was distorted, cut through by static. It was some kind of brutal death, he was sure, judging from the sounds. The flash of a blade, the splash of water against linoleum, what could have been a fresh splatter of flesh.

Jackie leaned a little closer—still not close enough to touch, no, of course not. He’d understand if Heather shoved him away and started gagging. He’d be a little offended if she gagged, obviously…

“Stop.”

He flinched back at once. “Sorry, I—”

“I didn’t tell you to move. Stop moving. Stay there.”

Heather was not as shy as he was. She closed the gap between them with fluid ease, wrapped her arms around him and settled in the crook of his neck and shoulder. He wondered if she had more experience than him, to put it that way. She made this look easy.

He tried not to be so tense, tried to follow her lead. Jackie hadn’t been held in so long. It was supposed to be relaxing, but he was too occupied with making sure he didn’t screw it up. It was imperative that he did everything right. Heather already had enough reason to hate him.

“Hm?” She shifted her head. Her hair grazed the back of his neck. “Something wrong?”

“No.”

Someone was monologuing on the television. He couldn’t make out any of the words. Something serious, maybe a confession or a heated confrontation.

“Do you want me to let go?” she murmured. “You can ask me to stop, you know.”

“No, this is okay.” He shut his eyes. “I’m okay.”

“Why is your heart beating so fast?”

“I’m sorry.”

She sighed, a low and weary sound. “Don’t say that.”

“Sorry—“ He cut himself off. “I won’t.”

“That’s not what I meant. Say what you want. I don’t care. Apologize, if you want. But I wish you would…”

She didn’t finish her request. Instead, she placed a hand on his chest, where his heart buzzed so incessantly, betraying him, under the thick, solid black sweater he had borrowed from her.

He didn’t know what she wished for, but he knew he would give it to her. He wasn’t stupid; he was aware she could change her mind. He needed whatever brief protection her love offered, if it meant receiving her affection, her kindness. Such blunt terms would not bother him. All relationships were just company for company, tooth for tooth, an eye for an eye. The price was heavier here, perhaps, but it was still a simple one.

Heather pushed him down onto the bed. Slow, steady, the steady pace she had with the scalpel and saw. His eyes fluttered open. He remembered the metal pressure against his insides, against his stomach, his bones, a wound deeper than his flesh and nerves. He swallowed, and the thought died.

Exchange, give and take. That was all. That was… all. That was it, and he didn’t need to worry. He would be fine with that. He didn’t resist, let her push him down. The fabric was soft under his head.

Heather looked down at him, a watcher from above, indecipherable as always, still studying him.

He hesitated. She was waiting. He was supposed to say something, or do something, but his words faltered to a harsh blank.

She did not wait forever. She laid down beside him, nestled close and held him tight. The fabric shifted underneath them. A shiver clawed up his spine, but he remained perfectly still.

Now he could feel her heart beating as well. Hard, heavy beats, as unyielding as wrought metal. Her breath feathered up against his neck. The tang of orange blossoms filled up his lungs like sand and cement, a cloying citrus smell. The television muttered and murmured, but he barely heard it. His face was feeling flushed. He was painfully aware of each and every part of her, the curve of her shoulders, the precise pressure of her arms. The tension coiled with each exhale and inhale, wound up and up in his chest, grew thick in the back of his throat. But Heather was content to just lie there, so he was too.

The sky outside the window shone white-speckled black. Night had already fallen. It was unbearably cold out on the street, Jackie was certain, but he was inside and safe and warm. Not safe, necessarily, not yet, not quite… but he was inside and warm. Two out of three wasn’t so bad. And he wasn’t alone. It made him want to cry.

Heather closed her eyes. He didn’t see this happen, but he felt the butterfly-wing motion of her eyelashes pushing against his skin, grazing him like the spill of her hair.

It was easy to forget that constant heaviness in his chest. It was easy to just give up, give into it for one night. He was wanted here and it was going to be okay.

Their silence stagnated. The stars flickered, dim against the city’s brash lights. He closed his eyes.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Taglist:

@theelvishcowgirl @lthrboy @whumpy-wyrms

@yassifiedinformation @creppersfunpalooza

@vidawhump

#whump writing #whump #Spiderwebs toyybox #my writing #intimate whumper #carewhumper #💔💔💔#Jackieeee :(

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