#cause that was what was available in the area we lived in at the time

[sad-girl-autism]

I tried to take a nap and I dreamed that someone I know who died a month ago but that I wasn't overly sad about it because he was a huge asshole in life was like standing off to the side as I was watching something on tv and he wasn't like watching with me he was more just watching the screen to find any reason to be mad about it and every time something happened that he didn't like he'd turn if off and i'd turn it back on and after this happened a couple times he just fully unplugged it so I couldn't turn it back on again and then I got up and plugged it back in and he gave up

[zillychu]

I’ve gotten a WAVE of asks about this AU, so I decided to flesh it out some more and answer some of those questions!

I’ll probably polish this extended summary up at some point and submit it to AO3. But for now, here’s a rundown of my thoughts–please feel free to send more questions! I’ll update this post if I get any more. But if you’re someone who wanted to write fic for it, don’t worry, you don’t need to take my headcanons as gospel. It’s a pretty basic AU honestly lol

Summary:

The portal accident results in a violent explosion that wipes out the whole block, and condemns all of Amity Park. Danny haunts the city for 100 years, before Sam and Tucker find him. 

Setup:

In the 1920’s, 19-year-old Danny went into the incomplete portal on his own, hoping to help out his parents. Ripping the portal open through unnatural means created a huge burst of energy that resulted in a massive explosion. A good portion of the Amity Park population died, many were injured, and the ones on the fringes relocated–Amity was quickly deemed too dangerous due to the excess ectoplasm in the area that attracted ghosts. 

While the disaster was in Amity, the fallout was seen around the globe. Before, natural portals were rare, short-lived, and rarely allowed ghosts to fully slip into our realm (the most severe cases being on par with poltergeists that most people didn’t believe in). Now, natural portals pop open frequently around the world, large enough to allow the entirety of a ghost into the physical plane. They’re more common the closer you get to Amity, but they happen enough elsewhere that this change was something of a small apocalypse before people settled back down and found out how to combat at least some of their new, permanent neighbors. 

Danny is unaware that he’s only half-dead, believing he’s a full ghost. He ends up sticking around Amity, unintentionally making it his haunt. His grief and guilt over causing the death of his loved ones (and many others) makes him isolate and avoid human contact. Though he has, at times, scared nosy people away from the city in a mix of territorial instinct–and to get them to leave before a less friendly ghost finds them. 

Ghosts are much more of an uncontested danger in this AU. Lesser ghosts are practically mindless, and while stronger ghosts are capable of reason, their interests are limited. They’re highly territorial, possessive, and often destructive. Most worrisome is that they also like to snack on the life force of anything alive. No one is sure what dictates a ghost’s propensity to attack or hunt the living for their life force since ghosts don’t exactly experience hunger. At least, not the way we do. If a human is rescued before their life force is fully drained, they can make a full recovery–though humanity has still not yet found what this “life force" is. 

And since the Fentons’ research died along with them, there aren’t many tools available to the public to protect them from ghosts. Most homes have standard ghost shields and some weapons are available on the market, but certified ghost hunters are required to take care of anything more powerful than your average spook. 

Sam and Tucker met in high school, and are now rooming together for college very close to the Amity border. Rent is surprisingly cheap when you’re a stone’s throw away from a condemned area crawling with ghosts. Sam is the one who drags Tucker along with her fascination over finding out more about the city, and its largely mysterious demise. Sam is aware of the danger, but feels ghosts have a place in this world just like everything else, and does exercise caution–like one would while foraging in the woods with a known tiger population. 

What she and Tucker weren’t expecting was to run into a ghost that felt almost human. One that hasn't hurt them, not for lack of trying–while being powerful enough to walk past ghost shields without so much as a flinch. The long white hair is familiar in the whispers of the ectobiologist community, but there’s no way it could be the rumored ghost king Phantom, right?

About Danny:

He has very long hair, claws, and black sclera. His hazmat suit is more torn and ragged, with exposed hands and feet that fade into a burnt black.

His hair tends to float a lot on its own. It can start morphing into fire under duress. 

He does still technically have gloves and boots, they've just charred and melted into his skin towards the ends. He can't take them off in his ghost form. His hands and feet have a leathery texture that's tougher than the rest of his skin.

The white of his hazmat suit is both supposed to look like flames, and also a battered look representing his more violent, explosive death.

Overall, he appears rather listless and sad, with an unnerving air of danger around him–even for a ghost. 

Danny’s “ghost sense” comes out as white smoke.

He does breathe black smoke at times, usually when agitated. 

He's already fought and defeated Pariah Dark by the time Sam and Tucker find him, technically making him the Ghost King. This is heavily speculated by ghost experts, despite there being no real proof beyond a massive battle that scarred Illinois. He has not donned the Ring or the Crown, and captured sentient ghosts are hesitant to answer questions surrounding him. Danny basically has the throne but doesn’t do anything with it, and finds it meaningless enough to routinely forget he has the title. He only fought Pariah because he knew otherwise, humanity would have perished. A lot of ghosts are scared of him because he's so hard to figure out, and he's strong. 

Danny is usually very quiet and speaks softly, because his lungs were damaged in the blaze that half-killed him. He's technically healed since becoming a ghost, so it's more of a compulsion due to the traumatic memory. That, and he’s just… very forlorn and distant, shy around humans who don’t seem to understand how dangerous it is to keep hanging around him.

His memories pre-accident are extremely fuzzy. He knows the very basics of who he was, but specifics have been muffled due to trauma and isolation. He routinely forgets human habits, etiquette, etc. and tends to act more like a full ghost with some odd quirks. 

He does try to scare Sam and Tucker off numerous times. Unfortunately for him, they realized they shouldn't have been able to escape a ghost that strong–but they did, because he let them. 

Sam and Tucker think he's mute at first! He doesn't speak a word to them until several encounters later, when he fumbles his whole scary act and saves them from another ghost. 

He’s still half-ghost, though he doesn’t figure this out until Sam and Tucker come along trying to unravel the mysteries behind the Amity catastrophe. Physically and emotionally, he’s been stuck for 100 years–so his human form is still 19. It’s unclear at this point if he can age normally like a human as long as he stays in human form, or if he’s immortal. 

Danny's family did not turn into ghosts, though he sometimes worries he'll find them in the afterlife as shells of their former selves. He doesn't know if it's better or worse that he's not sure he'd recognize them. 

(Danny also still has some living family. Take a guess.)

Yes, he knows how to Wail. Understandably, he very rarely uses it. You do not want to witness this.

Danny :) is not immune :) from the allure of eating a human's life force :)))

[moha-madhoun]

Urgent Help !!

Please don't skip , and take a moments to read 💛

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters ✅️

Hello , my name is Muhammad Al-Madhoun. I am 35 years old. I live in occupied Palestine, North Gaza, which I love , and which has been subjected to criminal war and genocide since October 7, 2023 more than 400 days.

I was working in a law firm before the war, and now I have been out of work and without any income for more than 400 days.

The picture below is of me working in my law office before the genocide began.

I have two children, Ziad, 5 years old, and his sister Mirna, 2 years old. We were living a good life before the current war in the Gaza Strip. After the war, my children, like the rest of the children in Gaza, lived a miserable life in a shelter center that includes more than 300 people. My family, my children and I are constantly exposed, almost weekly, to diseases resulting from infections and viruses resulting from the unsuitable life and the great mixing between the displaced people in the center and moving between different shelter centers more than once.

I have been displaced for the sixth time to the Khan Younis (Al-Mawasi) area. I live with my family and our belongings in a room inside a shelter that does not exceed 12 square meters. Living in a shelter is indescribably difficult in all aspects. We face many problems every day due to the high prices and scarcity of basic materials such as food and cleaning materials, which has led to us bearing very high daily expenses in light of the loss of my source of income.

The photos below show me with my children Ziad and Mirna before the genocide.

- Since the beginning of the genocidal war, I have lost my only source of income until now, as I have been working in the legal profession as a "lawyer" since 2016-2017, and it seems that I have stopped practicing this profession since the beginning of the genocidal war on Gaza City, as a result of the complete destruction of my law office and the workplaces associated with this profession, such as courts, ministries and commercial companies. I have lost my profession completely or partially for many years as a result of what the devastating war on Gaza has caused.

Since the beginning of the genocide in the Gaza Strip and for more than a year of complete loss of income, due to the scarcity of basic goods and the increase in prices of many of them by nearly 20 times, and due to the repeated displacement of nearly 6 times and moving from one place to another, all the money I had was depleted. Now, for many months, I have been completely dependent on what I get through my campaign on the Gofundme.

The picture below shows the room i live in it with my family.

The picture below shows my little daughter mirna helps me filling water

In the preparation of food, we often rely on some canned food that arrives to Gaza from outside, in addition to some grains such as lentils and rice, which are available in a scarce way in Gaza.

Obtaining vegetables has become a very difficult task, due to its scarcity and scarcity of some of them, and their prices have risen about 40 times or more, as a result of the absence of any land farming operations since 5 months since the beginning of the war in Gaza, with an almost complete lack of all kinds of fruits, because they did not enter through aid. or crossings.

During this genocidal war which is still going on to this day and more, my house was severely damaged which resulted in the destruction and vandalism of the roof, walls, tiles, decorations, doors of the house, etc. It also caused almost complete destruction and loss of most of the contents of the house especially the furniture, wooden doors of the rooms, all the windows, electrical appliances, children's toys and everything in my house.

It also displays my law firm, which is the only source of income for destruction and destruction, including the contents, furniture, electrical appliances, laptops, important files and documents , etc. in addition to the complete destruction of most of the headquarters related to my work, such as the courts. And the public prosecutions, burning them, and destroying all their documents, which exposes me to a high probability of losing any financial income through the legal profession for a period of up to 3-4 years or more.

Here are some pictures of them in our partially destroyed house

I need the support of friends abroad to help me buy daily supplies and needs such as food, clothes, cleaning materials, cooking gas, etc., in addition to rebuilding and repairing some of the partial damage to my home when the war ends and I return to my home in northern Gaza, in addition to buying what I lost, whether in my home or the law office, and buying the necessary home furniture and electrical appliances, and to be able to find an amount of money that will help me continue my daily life as I lived before the war, or enable me to travel outside Gaza, or enable me to establish a suitable small project, or any other work through which I can provide a good financial income after I lost my profession for many years to come, which may be very long due to the destruction that has affected all aspects of life in the Gaza Strip.

[mnsooraljizawi]

Hello everyone, I hope you are well 👋👋

I am Mansour Subhi Al-Jizawi, a citizen of Gaza. I come to you with a broken heart and ask for help for me and my family...

I am writing to you and asking for help in any way to restore what the occupation has destroyed since October 7, 2023.So that I and my family can survive the war and save the rest of our lives because Gaza has become uninhabitable. There is no longer a suitable place to live. There is no solution other than evacuation to survive... but unfortunately the price of evacuation from Gaza is very expensive... and we cannot bear these costs. There is no solution but to help you by donating, sharing our story, or praying for us....

I am talking to you, and after thinking for a long time before taking this step, but I realized that there is nothing left for us in Gaza after the occupation destroyed all its property, our property, our dreams and our future...so I came to you and I am full of hope from you that your donations will cover the cost of survival. Evacuation to a better life....

The occupation destroyed our home, our dreams, and the buildings of my family and I to live in tents after it ordered and forced us to evacuate from northern Gaza. Currently, we live in a camp in the Zawaida area, and this is the ninth displacement since the seventh of October of the past year, 2023. Struggling daily to obtain clean water and food. And the rest of the necessities of life, despite the high prices that make us struggle more to obtain them...

We are 4 people, the number of people in my family. My father, Subhi Mustafa Al-Gizawi, is 60 years old and currently without any income and does not work for any institution. He has a heart disease and a stroke as well, and needs daily treatment, but due to the difficulty of the situation, he is sometimes not available in the country, and this makes him even more weak. More because of the lack of treatment

and my mother Mervat Bassam Al-Jizawi, 54 years old, also suffers from high blood pressure and colon, which caused her to undergo operations because of the pain that comes from the colon. She also needs medicine, and this medicine is not available and is expensive...

I am Mansour Subhi Al-Jizawi, 20 years old. I did not receive a university education because of the war. The occupation destroyed my future and left me without a future. I was injured in the 2014 war, and the effects of the injury are still present, and the shrapnel is still stuck in my body 💔

My brother, Tamer Sobhi Al-Gizawi, has been missing since the beginning of the war, and we do not know anything about him..

The remnants of this war are that our house was destroyed and uninhabitable, and our car was completely destroyed.

In conclusion: I hope that receiving my message is very important to you, and that it will make a difference for the Palestinians in need 💔🙏

God bless you all...

[vilsoo]

𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑯𝑮𝑨𝑺𝑴.𝑪𝑶𝑴 ⌇GHOST, KÖNIG

ghost x fem!reader x könig || WC: 3,852

𖤐 SYNOPSIS. the dark web was a place every sane person stayed away from. too many horror stories and dark content that barely a few dared to venture in. but you’d rather not be anywhere else than in the hands of two masked strangers…

𖤐 WARNINGS. dubcon, kidnapping, drugging, sadism, voyeurism, bondage (blindfolding, ropes, torture), sex toys, livestream sex, manhandling, exhibitionism, forced creampie, mind break, double penetration, mask kink, impact play.

HORRORLAND/KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

[HAUNTED HOUSE ANNOUNCER] You are now entering the Deathgasm live venue. This haunted house attraction depicts scenes of violence, intense loud audio, special effects, and content warnings posted. For a fun and safe experience, please follow our code of conduct: no touching live performers and decorations, no flash photography, and no eating. Do not block passageways, or this will result in expulsion. Smoking and drinking are permitted for our haunted houses only. We hope you enjoy.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The last time you ever saw broad daylight was ripped apart before your eyes.

It was just a relaxing morning stroll. You were always, always aware of your surroundings, especially during the night. But you shouldn’t have underestimated what happens in the day. Things became unsettling when you noticed a white van lurking in your peripheral vision, feeling your skin crawl and your body tense up with paranoia when the doors opened.

At first, you thought you were overthinking about it. Stop being so fucking paranoid, you scolded to yourself. Maybe they’re just contractors or something. Nothing sketchy at all.

You just kept walking that day continuing to embrace the warmth of the sun, sometimes looking over your shoulders just to be sure. But that unsettling, turmoil gut-feeling just couldn’t go away. As if you really were being followed. As if that van parked all the way out here for you.

“Quickly.”

It wasn’t until in just half a heartbeat, a brawny, masked man clung his arm around you, rendering you motionless as he presses a cloth over your nose and your mouth. With all your strength you tried to fight back and escape his grasp but your struggle was to no avail. Your screams were muffled and your vision grew hazy, causing your eyes to flutter as your numb body was pulled backwards, backwards, and backwards... And that was when your world was swallowed away by darkness.

“Shh, shh… We got you now. We’ll be taking care of you now...”

“…Told you she’d be easy, Ghost. We’ll have her all to ourselves…”

On that sinister day, you were the one with the shiny price tag. A beautiful woman walking all alone near a remote area, suddenly kidnapped by two masked men in a white van who had special, ominous plans for you. You could hear their conversations reverberating in your head, trying to register what the hell even happened. With your body temporarily limp and weakened, you could still feel the sensation of their caresses all over you.

Usually kidnappers would be so aggressive handling their female victims. At least, in the movies you’ve seen. The men would rush and scamper out of impatience and impulse as they tie their victims up, desperate to get down to business like it was their last meal on Earth. And even though your brain was foggy, you could register that you were being downed by a drug and abducted. Yet, it all felt… oddly tantalizing.

There was no rush. No sign of impulse nor rough treatment from these mysterious masked men. Instead of this predator-prey dynamic, instead of fear and terror seizing every fiber of your being, the men handled your motionless body like having a cupped hand of water, that not a drop would enter gravity's pull. In the back of a van, you laid on a blanket as gloved hands roamed about your skin, your waist, your face, your thighs… The men cut off your clothes with scissors, ever so gently trying not to hurt you. With your hazy eyes drifting side to side, you caught glimpse of one of them holding rope and the other holding your arms above your head.

“Look at her. So fucking cute when she’s all spaced out like that…”

“She’s so obedient for us already. You’re gonna be a perfect little pornstar for us, aren’t ya’?”

…Pornstar?

Before you knew it, your heavy eyes started to sulk. You were slowing down while the world around blurred, completely losing your coherence as the masked men moved you around like a lifeless doll. You couldn’t stop sighing, babbling nonsense, and whimpering when their large hands just couldn’t keep off of you, hanging your wrists on some metal hook attached to the van’s ceiling so they could caress your body. Your numb legs were then spread open, revealing the soaked fabric of your panties that you heard one of them coo in your ears. You whined when one of them slid their hand down to toy with your slit, aching and so swollen, out of your own fear and arousal. It was futile to even try and close your legs from this violation, yet the heat pooling in between was saying otherwise…

“Fuck, she’s already so wet just by being tied up. Makes me wanna take her here right now.”

“…We have to go now, König. Just keep playing with her clit until she falls asleep…”

The anticipation from such a forbidden desire worsened the ache in your cunt. At this fleeting moment you didn’t know what exactly you wanted anymore; how to choose what was good or what was bad for you. Your foggy brain couldn’t even articulate anything except this writhing sensation, this urge to submit yourself and melt onto the man’s chest just to let him use you. Encircling his fingers on your throbbing clit that you were bashfully moaning and whining, knowing that they were getting off to a pathetic, brainless, helpless woman who’s good for nothing but a fuck…

It was too bad that before you could even build up your orgasm, you were already passed out…

“… And we’re live. Wake her up.”

You had no idea how long you’ve been out. At least your coherence was starting to gauge, but your body was still weakened and frail from the drug. You struggled to open your debilitated eyes, vision hazy and blurry as if you hit your head. And when you tried to move, your wrists were still bound above your head.

Your breathing grew rapid, eyes darting every corner as you were scanning the new environment. Tied in a darkened room with red lighting, followed by a camera on a tripod right in front of you. Your mind immediately thought of this setup as a sex dungeon, hence the chains on the walls and a bed neatly made behind you. Recalling what had happened earlier, you tried to look for the men in masks, creating noises by dangling the metal hook above you and whimpering to let them know you’re awake. But as far as you could tell, you couldn’t make out any other presence lingering in the room…

Your heart was a pounding loud drum in your chest. Panic scorches in your brain, but your touch-starved body betrays your inhibitions… You were completely naked, exposing yourself in front of the camera. In your mouth, a red ball gag pooling with drool that dripped down to your stomach and on the floor. Your legs were free from the rope, however, you were on your tippie toes— the rope holding your wrists were too high that it was a struggle to relax them or you’d injure yourself. Dangling on rope, gagging and drooling on a ball, naked in front of a camera that you assumed to be recording already… how much more lewd could this be?

A gloved hand emerging from the shadows makes you flinch as it caresses you from behind. Your skin tingled when you felt the man’s body heat transmit onto your back, hearing him breathe deeply. You were able to study him up close— an alluring, mysterious man wearing a balaclava with a skull design, recalling him being called “Ghost.” Another pair of gloved hands greet you by massaging your breasts, your body immediately succumbing to this white-hot wave of sensation, desperate to be handled like this that more heat pooled between your legs. You turn your head and meet his gaze; piercing, forest green eyes and a draped mask, the other man with the German accent known as “König.”

“You’re not gonna struggle and try to resist us, are you?” Ghost teased, his voice so intoxicating than any alcohol you’ve ever consumed. He had this husky, sultry British accent; something you’ve never expected coming from a stranger like him. It only turned you on more.

You shake your head at him meekly, replying with a faint moan when he suddenly grips your ass. Ghost immediately catches the doe-eyes you gave him, the right kind of heat and lust pooling in your eyes. This was all so, so wrong… to be abducted and chained in the dark, to be turned on by strangers in tactical gear who drugged you and had sinister plans for you… But yet, you couldn’t fight this brain-fazing sensation from the anticipation quivering inside, wondering what was going to happen to you as you were in the hands of these men. And your aching cunt couldn’t stop furtively pounding and throbbing, having to hold back a whimper from how needy and slutty you really were...

“Good girl,” Ghost praised as he held your face with one hand. “Tonight, everything we do to you is gonna be livestreamed. You’re not here just to please us— you’ll have to please our audience, too. You like being shown off, pretty girl?”

“Mhm.” You nodded like you were already made for this, allowing what your body was secretly ravenous for. A little enthusiasm, but also bashfulness— the epitome of submission. Perhaps deep down, you adored being showed off; basking in the limelight of being a free use in front of thousands of strangers…

König’s hand slithers down your back and onto your ass, yelping when he spanked it so abruptly that it left a throbbing sting. Your back involuntarily arched and when his fingers just fit right in between your thighs, chafing your swollen, wet cunt that it was hard holding back your pathetic whines and moans.

“Getting off to this already?” he coaxed, now increasing the speed of his fingers teasing your folds that you threw your head back on his shoulder. Immediately writhing on his fingers playing with your swollen clit, unable to respond properly when Ghost wrapped his hand around your throat.

“They wanna hear you scream,” Ghost muttered into your ears, slightly smirking under his mask. “You can’t be enjoying all this without a little bit of pain.”

As much as you wanted to resist, you couldn’t. The panic and anticipation spiraled into shameless arousal. Without warning, König eased two of his fingers knuckles deep inside your wet cunt so easily, thrusting insanely fast that your eyes fell half-lidded, convulsing around his fingers hitting that spot that made you squirm. Shamelessly spreading your legs as Ghost kept playing with your tits, squeezing both of your nipples so tight that your loud squeal reverberated off the walls of the room.

That mix of pleasure and pain; you’d be lying to yourself if you truly enjoyed it… It was torturous, it was too brutal to endure, but your skin was flashing hotter than ever, your clit throbbing erratically with a heartbeat of its own. König felt his cock stirring in his suit, getting off to your helpless state that he thrusted his fingers so hard, curling them to abuse your g-spot. Denying your own orgasm was painfully inevitable. The two men could see it pooling in your eyes like it was unobtainable, watching your body constantly squirming under their touches.

“You think she deserves to come?” taunted Ghost.

“We’ll make her come as many times as she can. Even if she can’t handle it.” You could feel König’s other hand slithering down to your inner thigh as if he was about to grab it, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “And we’re not gonna fucking stop no matter how many times you beg. You’re our little fucktoy now and you’re gonna be treated just like one.”

Lust speared through you from their words. The men were unpredictable in their own sinister ways; it caught you off guard from the way König abruptly lifted your left leg and held it in the air as Ghost takes a vibrator onto your clit. Fingers still fucking into your cunt and your sensitive clit getting overstimulated had you yanking the rope, your body writhing and squirming that they tell you to “shut the fuck up and take it,” and forced you in place. Electric sensations skyrocket through you before you could even register it all, your glossy eyes welling with tears and your face all ravished and wanton beyond comprehension.

Never have you been so turned on you couldn’t see straight. It was a fleeting second after you realize your orgasm had already washed over you, your hips stuttering like a riptide from this delirious torment. Knowing that there were thousands of strangers getting off to this, getting off to a helpless slut tied up and tortured by masked men that can’t do anything except enjoy it, you basked in it. Forced multiple orgasms, stinging pain, lewd noises, and loud screams… this was all related to the dark web you’ve been hearing recently.

After collecting yourself, a wave of clarity hit you so suddenly that things were starting to make sense. There were recent kidnappings of women who were found later on a livestream website called Deathgasm.com, where numerous videos of gangbangs with these women and masked men in tactical gear are recorded live. They take place in either the back of a van or in a dark room, which viewers assume as a sex dungeon.

You couldn’t hold back anymore. As sick and twisted this was, your body couldn’t help but succumb to this indescribable feeling of pleasure and torture. There were even times out of curiosity you’d search the site and realize how attractive the men in masks and tactical gear are. Toying and playing with a tied up woman who also secretly succumb to this, their quivering fear and terror surrendering into arousal and tantalization. Having no choice but to orgasm over and over even though it’s too much, looking into the men’s faces with lingering dark anonymity and their brawny, large bodies looming over them just to fulfil their filthy, dark plans. And you would not trade this for anything in the world.

Perhaps you adored being showed off. Basking in the limelight of being used like a fucktoy and watched by strangers online that are fucked up in the head, like an exhibitionist. Or maybe you’ve been brainwashed to even think this way— maybe you just have little, fucked up fantasies of your own... It didn’t even matter anymore; your thoughts became mush when Ghost and König suspended you up in the air this time, your wrists and ankles bound behind you with your legs also tied apart. The gag was finally off but a blindfold had covered your eyes, not being able to tell who’s who and what the men plan to do to you now.

You were already a mess; strings of saliva and drool hanging off your chin that dripped onto König’s cock, slowly easing it in your widened mouth. It was Ghost’s turn to play with your pussy and ass, moaning and yelping when he spanked your cheeks so harshly. Nothing could compare to this amount of excitement pounding in your pussy, practically whining on Konig’s fat cock in your mouth as Ghost kept teasing you.

To describe the comments in the live chat as obscene is an understatement— the men were greedy, ravenous, filthy. Shamelessly admitting their own raunchy, fucked up scenarios with you tied up like that. Degrading you like a worthless whore, admiring your body and pussy that’s good for fucking, or sending money to get Ghost and König to fulfill their requests:

[ $20 ] both of you fuck her pussy and ass at the same time. stretch out that tight asshole

[ $25 ] carve the word “slut” on her thigh i want that bitch bloody and screaming in pain

[ $22 ] make her squirt i wanna see that pussy juice all over the camera lens

And though you couldn’t read the comments or see the camera, you just indulged into this and presented yourself as a horny, free-use slut that’s made for fucking. You can feel Ghost’s cockhead brushing the folds of your cunt, coating it with your juices. König thrusted his cock straight inside your throat that it was too much for you to handle, gagging and moaning pathetically as Ghost kept teasing you it felt like utter torture. But that blissful feeling blossoming in your stomach was saying otherwise…

You were so desperate for more friction; Ghost took sick pleasure in seeing you like this, writhing and bucking your hips for him to slide inside your cunt already. When he finally eased his cock so deep, you were given no warning as he pounded so hard and rough into you. The sensation of your cunt getting stretched out from his size, grabbing your hips and pulling you back and forth on his cock... You were a wrecked mess already; your face streaked with tears, your chin dripping with drool, and your skin all slick and sweaty. The thought of being reduced to a free use fuck-slut that thrives off from only cock and orgasms as you were suspended mid-air… you could no longer think for yourself anymore.

“Look at you. Getting all dumb and brainless over our cocks,” Ghost cooed, harshly spanking your ass. “You like being our little pornstar? Knowing that a bunch of strangers online jerk off to you being used like this?”

Your eyes roll into the back of your skull as the men kept pounding and thrusting, hearing König pant heavily and Ghost grunt when you kept squeezing ever so tightly around him. In just a minute, another orgasm. But that didn’t stop Ghost mercilessly pounding into you like an animal gone wild and König fucking your throat so relentlessly. Your screams and moans form into gags urging out, drips of precum and drool seeping on your chin that König smeared all over your glossy face. The more they sensed that you were taking pleasure from all this, the more brutal they were with you.

It felt like you were in the air for hours as the men switched around and took turns. Your cunt was becoming overly slick with the copious amounts of cum that was being pumped into it, some left on your ass and some dripping onto the floor. Even when they weren’t inside you, the continual pounding and the oozing cum throbbed in your walls. You still couldn’t see anything and you were still bound. It wasn’t until your eyes started feeling heavy again and your body fell numb; the men didn’t like that.

“We didn’t say you could fucking sleep,” König chided as he harshly grabbed your face and slipped off the blindfold.

“That drug is still hitting you, huh?” teased Ghost as he messing around with the ropes that held you in the air. “For that, we’ll make her do the work this time. Untie her and get her on top of me on the bed so she’ll ride me. Leave her arms tied only.”

You couldn’t protest, for your words started to slur and your mouth was only used for moaning pathetically. Once König brought you down from the air, he shoved you onto the bed, holding your legs in the air as Ghost laid underneath you. There was another camera facing the bed that you noticed, the light burning into your retinas as you stare into it. Although you were half awake, a weak smile stretches on your lips, wanting to the viewers know how prideful you were of this and how good Ghost and König make you feel.

When Ghost slowly settled inside your ass, you’ve felt a stirring sensation in your stomach. Never have you thought about losing your anal virginity so soon, but it had you throwing your head back and whining. He had the ball gag from before in his hands and wrapped it back around your opened mouth, telling you to keep staring into the camera and ride him like the dirty, messy slut that you are. With your feet on the bed and your legs spread, you slowly settle down on his cock, eyebrows furrowed and your body contorting from how intense it all felt.

You knew that you didn’t wanna go painfully slow; you wanted Ghost to feel good as well. To the point where he’d finally hold your hips in the air and fuck his cock into your ass and König can finally slide himself in your pussy, overstimulating you so greatly. It was hard to keep balance with your hands bound behind your back and your staggering strength. But you kept telling yourself that this was all that you wanted, grinding your hips and bouncing your ass up and down, emitting juddering grunts from Ghost.

“Keep your legs spread open for me,” König ordered. “Show to the camera how good you take two cocks inside of you.”

Before you knew it, you were sandwiched between the two masked men, filling your holes and stuffing you harshly. Sitting on Ghost’s cock as your legs were wide open, letting them both pound into you… You lost the feeling of stability in your entire body, your inhibition being taken over by the desperate sensation of cock. It broke your mind, but that was what you craved for. It was pure euphoria, rapturing you in a burning enticement that you were bound in. Nearly knocked out of air, your vision becomes hazy as Ghost and König fucks you through your third orgasm, past the point where you're crying two octaves higher than you're used to.

such a hot fucking slut taking both dicks

i wish i could fuck her cunt and put that dumb bitch in her place

how many times did she come already 😂

You enjoyed it. You enjoyed it all. The mind-wrecking, the overstimulation, the humiliation, the pain, the thought of being watched and masturbated to by perverts… It felt as if your life had been reformed. You were now a slutty whore that was good for nothing but a fuck. A depository for cum, just holes for fucking and a toy to torture. Your cunt was now battered and bruised, ass stinging and throbbing from being slapped multiple times, and both of your holes stretched and aching from how deep and rough they fucked you out. All those sensitive, velvet tissues that should never see the light of day, for they were property of Ghost and König only. Your poor cunt couldn’t stop flexing over nothing, yearning for that feeling of fullness again.

The next few hours after you were done being used, you were tied up in a strappado position with a vibrating dildo tied to your cunt. Left alone in the dark with the camera still on and recording, still blindfolded and gagged. Forced orgasms over and over, stranded like this throughout the rest of your days and nights until they felt like using you again. From what Ghost told you, the viewers seemed to favor you. They wanted to see more of you on Deathgasm, never to return to your old life and remain a free-use.

“Next time, I’ll make it hurt real good for you,” he forewarned before. “They can watch and cum as many times as they please, but you… You only cum for me now.”

ALL WORKS BELONG TO VILSOO © 2023. do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost/share any of my works on any social media where minors have access. art by duskidraws ♥︎

𖤐 TAGS. @kyumimii @aft0nsimp @crysugu @atinystaypixie @rinshoe @cran-berry-vodka @apwing @daddyzzlittlewhore @kimekioo @mqfuyuu @strawberrymilk4k @strvwberrymilk @maidenssymphony @shycoffeetaco @zippertwat @killzenin @titantears @migueloharacumslut @hayati17 @palefuckinghost @maddietries @nanananamiiii @bookmark-anon @blackhoodlea @bru1sedclavicle @dollicries @hehehehesthings @oneofthesevensins

[gallusrostromegalus]

Have you talked about the agriculture and infrastructure of AEIWAM? Cause in the show we see the people of Seireitei eating, but they’re dead, so that’s a lot of dead people to be feeding. Plus you’ve established the mail service so public services are available in a way.

What’s the food situation look like? Do we have entire districts of people farming? Are there laws about it? Who can be bribed with a very specific food?

Autism Voice: How much are you prepared to learn about this topic? Because there's 5,236 words under the cut. Godspeed.

So in canon, souls don't "need" to eat, but do so out of habit, and also the rukongai is largely a feudalistic economy, which is not how habits OR feudalism work.

Not to drastically oversimplify enormous fields of history, political theory and socioeconomic, but if you were ever wondering WHY someone would tolerate living in a feudal system, the answer largely is "Because it beat the fuck out of the previous system, 'constant and devastating warfare'."

How feudalism gets started is easy:

There's a very large amount of people with no effective unified government for whatever reason (humans just moved into the area/an empire collapsed/a volcano blew up the general everything, etc.), and a limited amount of arable land, and therefore, a limited amount of food.

There's always a few assholes, and those assholes immediately try to establish dominance over the good turf with violence. This is the "constant warfare" phase of the agrarian government cycle.

In response, everyone bands together with their families and immediate neighbors to create defenses against The Marauding Assholes.

If one village is particularly defensible, or one marauder is particularly good at defense-breaking, people start to move in with whoever they think will do a better job of helping them stay fed. eventually these groups get big enough to need some kind of organization, and the organization tends to default to transactional loyalty.

I swear to god this is about the food situation.

The Transaction is thus: In exchange for taxes and you occasionally being called in for military Service, your Lord keeps the Marauding assholes away and does the obnoxiously complicated work of governance that helps farming but is too time-consuming for any farmer to actually do. Sounds like a good deal, right?

Smart people will recognize several glaring omissions and problems with that deal, but that's not important right now. After decades of "constant and devastating warfare", this is a relatively sane and fair deal.

This transactional loyalty continues up the political food chain: The leaders of several villages along a river need to coordinate efforts along that river or whatever, so they pick One Guy to be The Lord of the River Districts, typically the most popular guy in the clique.

...Or the one with the most heavily armed peasants.

In exchange for coordinating all the traffic/trade/environmental conditions along the river and ensuring peace between all the river districts, The River Lord also gets paid taxes and can call on all the River Lords to turn up with the heavily armed peasants should trouble come knocking.

Eventually, the River Lord makes an alliance with the neighboring Plains Lord and Mountain Lord and the Beach Lord up the coast because warfare suuuuuucks, and the most popular member of that clique is crowned emperor.

After a generation or two of relative stability, people have forgotten what the previous period of warfare was like, and develop the unconscious bias that it's Always Been Like This/the horror stories of your elders are just superstition. See: people who don't vaccinate their children because THEY never met anyone with Polio.

So they start pushing their luck.

Get funny with the ownership laws and realize they can make EVERYONE a renter and get away with being a shitass landlord.

Justify being a shitass landlord by coming up with things like "The Divine Right Of Kings"

Someone figures out that if you make everyone pay taxes in a grain crop, you can get away with EVEN MORE shitholery because you can force the peasants to use the bulk of their time and space to grow a crop that they have a limited ability to process and eat themselves, and grow their actual sustenance on the margins, so you can keep them in line with the constant but unspoken threat of starvation.

So if the Rukongai is running on a rice-based feudal system (which it is, because Kan is a rice-based currency and there are Noble houses and Lords and Daimyo in canon), souls MUST need to eat or the lords would have all been beheaded for being assholes who can't govern a while ago without the threat of starvation.

See? It IS about the food situation.

SIKE

I need to talk about law enforcement and postal services in the modern Soul Society now.

So the thing is: Until Ichigo and his friends show up and Cause A Ruckus, The Gotei-13 didn't actually have the authority to arrest anybody besides other Shinigami, people actively trying to Kill Shinigmai, and Hollows (theoretically) in AEIWAM.

See, after the initial period of "Various Lords make friends with each other for fun and profit", some Lords got really, REALLY good at getting other lords to sign up for their Multi Level marketing Schemes, and got stupid rich and also regular stupid doing it. Five of them specifically. These five super-popular guys were the Five noble lords, and their families that everyone pledged loyalty to became The Great Noble Houses: Shihouin, Kuchiki, Ise, and Shiba. AND DEFINITELY NOBODY ELSE.

The fact that all four of these houses were involved in a peculiar incident that imbued them with terrible spiritual power and some really kicass magical artifacts sure helped too.

Theoretically, any of these Four guys could become Emperor, but nobody was willing to bow to anyone else and it rapidly turned into the tensest five-way Mexican standoff, with a shitload of proxy wars between the minor noble houses that served the Great ones.

Great.

We're back to "constant, if somewhat less devastating warfare" AND we have to pay rice taxes.

...so some peasants invent anarchist communalism.

Not communism, they don't have control of the state, but they DO have Lords that are too busy doing poetry and snorting drugs to do their jobs... or catch them doing things that aren't in their lord's best interests.

So one village elder quietly whispers to another about "Hey, let's agree to trade grain and other supplies to each other at a discount and ah... not tell His Lordship about it. We'll have to send messages to each other in secret tho."

So Some Fucking Peasant becomes The Messages Guy, hoofing it all over the Rukongai delivering messages and facilitating an entirely lordless agrarian economy.

It's Kind of a Big Deal.

It's Kind of a Big Deal because peasants who can communicate are peasants who can ORGANIZE, and when word comes down from the scullery maids and underpaid clerks in the noble houses that the minor houses of X and Y are about to go to war at the behest of their masters THE MOST PECULIAR THING HAPPENS-

Holy shit. Terrible plague outbreak in the lands of Lord X. Hundreds dead. No way any village has anybody to spare for the war. What, you want to look? You want to catch this too? That's what happened to the last guy who came to look and look at him now! Crow food :(

Meanwhile, Lord Y and his two jackass sons have suddenly fallen ill. Must be that Plague from District X. Oh no! They died! Now the only Heir left is his daughter Lady X Who Was Doing All The Work Anyway. How unfortunate :(

;D

and that's not even getting into the network of secret granaries, flash livestock auctions, refugee migration routes and fun new alliances with people like Bandit Gang That Is An Entire Calvalry But Better.

It gets to be such a big deal, there are TONS of message guys, and they organize and demand to be paid properly for all this running and not getting caught by the nobs.

And the first postal service is born.

And shit, now that they're organized, why not formalize some of these grain stores and livestock trades and does the cavalry want to help delivering these messages? Or how about all the Village Elders who are experts in various things write down how all that stuff is done so it can be shared? Maybe they should all have a chance to meet up and share wisdom in person...

Shigekuni Yamamoto is all of eleven years old when he hears the village elder who runs the orphanage float the idea. Much, much later, he'll recall that THAT was when the Central 46 began.

Gradually, the lordless network of elder advice and tax-free farm economy grows, and begins to develop internal structures of it's own, and slowly grows to rival the Noble Houses in power, the decentralization of the network making it difficult for the noble houses to even recognize as a player, let alone attack.

Sure, lone messengers are often captured by the armies of the noble houses, but the messages they carry make little sense- the peasants use an entirely different alphabet- and the messengers will bite their tongues off and drown in their own blood before speaking.

But the shape of this secret fifth house remains a mystery for a long time until it becomes An Fucking Problem for food-related reasons. Specifically:

Ever Since the noble houses came back with weird magic powers and fucked up artifacts, there's been more and more and MORE people who have their own fucked up magical powers who live bizarrely long lives and also there are these really fucked up creatures with skull-like masks and holes in their chest that FUCKING EAT PEOPLE??

Fortunately, if you've got one of these magical freaks in your village, they're GREAT at dealing with the hole-monsters or "Hollows"

Unfortunately, these guys need a TON of food.

I read a statistical analysis from a medieval European scholar who worked out that in an agrarian economy, if you want to have ONE full-time warrior, you need to have about 1000 people to support that guy in terms of services needed and the labor lost from them being a fighter. ...And these magical warriors have the appetites of three or four people.

So anyone born with Spiritual power in Soul society is a bit up shit creek.

While everyone experiences the threat of starvation but for them, it's a matter of days, not weeks. While their home village would love to keep them, they straight-up may not be able to produce enough food, even if he's a magical farmer most of the year.

The nearest noble house definitely has enough food. But they also know from the Magical Dudes in their own families just how hungry these guys are, AND how powerful they are and how badly a rival house would want them. So the Noble houses often default straight to conscription, threats of violence against the warrior's home and family, indentured servitude and straight-up curses to control any spiritually powerful people who appear in their districts before a Rival house can make them a decent offer. Or kidnap them.

Basically, unless you're actually a member of the family, the noble houses SUCK to work for. Magical warriors are treated like weapons or animals or worse, are forced to marry into the family.

What are you going to do though? Starve? Not a lot of other options.

...until the secret postal service starts.

Postal Service has Food. And decent wages and working conditions baked right into the way its run.

Sure, it's not easy work, but the magical warriors are the fastest and strongest out there, AND the people most equipped to handle suddenly running into a Noble Guard or a hollow.

Once the word gets out, the magical warriors are practically hammering down the post office doors for a job.

Bit of a rowdy lot, these guys. The Council of Elders realizes. Also, very noticable to the noble houses. it's going to becaome real clear what's going on real fast, and we don't have an army. Yet...

Enter Postmaster-General Shigekuni Yamamoto, who has been running this for the last 500 years and already built a Dojo to train carriers how to defend themselves. He's even a pretty heavy hitter of a magical warrior himself! We'll have him run the army. It's basically the same thing, right?

Yamamoto is made aware of his promotion when the news is first released up north where the council is holding it's meeting this year, and an adolescent Chojiro Sasakibe decides that a good way to apply to the Dojo is to Personally Deliver the News Himself.

At 1 AM

In Sensei's Bedroom. "...Are you all like this, or are you a special pain in the ass?" the man with the extremely impressive mustache and frightening glare croaks at the lad. "My ability to inflict discomfort on various backsides has been noted before, Sir!" Sasakibe reports cheerfully. "...But I'm not sure who you mean by 'you all'?" "You and every other maniac with an ounce of Reiryoku who's apparently headed here at speed?" Yamamoto glowers at the letter he's been handed. Chojiro frowns, looking off to the side and rubbing his chin, giving the question entirely too much serious thought. "Well-" the boy grimaces. "I'd say that compared to the population at large, I'm a statistically significant pain in the ass, but compared to just people with spiritual power, I'm only a minor nuisance." Yamamoto groans, laying back down and staring at the ceiling for a bit. "How old are you, boy?" "Fourteen sir!" Chojiro chirps. "Princess-Who-Understands-The-Heavens, he's fucking fourteen." Yamamoto groans, rubbing his face. "Well. You're my pain in the ass now. Make yourself useful and get me some breakfast."

Sasakibe has been faithfully following that order for the last 1200 years :)

Soon, the Lordless Council of Elders has themselves a sizeable, very powerful and extremely loyal army. In an act of extreme magnanimity, they extend an offer to each of the Four Noble Houses to bring an end to the feuding and create a government and laws for noble and peasant alike to follow and prosper under.

Every Single Noble House: 🗡️⚔️🔪FUCK. YOU. 🔪⚔️🗡️

Well, this was going to happen sooner or later, Yamamoto supposes, and readies for The Final War To End All Wars.

He was so full of hope and promise back then.

The Four Noble houses and Postal Army prepare their initial salvos but before anyone could strike, AN ABSOLUTE SHITWACK OF ARROWS rain down from the sky.

Knock Knock It's The Quincies.

Everyone scrambles against the invaders, but refuses to ally and soon the last hope of Spirit World is pinned on The Postmaster-General, the couple dozen surviving warriors of his Dojo, and Twelve Fucking Maniacs he hired off Death Row.

To ABSOLUTELY EVERYONE'S VAST SURPRISE, Yamamoto is Victorious. Well. Him and some weird monk guy who turned Yhwach into a bug, gave Yamamoto A Mandate From heaven re: The Hollows and Balance of Souls, and Dipped.

The tattered remains of the noble houses finally Unite, but Shigekuni Genryusai Yamamoto has three names now and is like unto a God. and the twelve shady bastards backing him up are no slouches either. ...Perhaps it's time to Negotiate.

And negotiations happen! - The Noble houses bring their not-insubstantial forces to the table, along with the fact they're the only people who have a System FOR collecting taxes, something a government really does need. - The Council of Elders brings it's vast organizational network, expertise in many practical subjects and Lifetimes of Wisdom, only accurate maps of the immediate spirit world. - The newly-named Court Guard brings it's Much more substantial force, it's Mandate from on high, and Yamamoto's scary mustache and even scarier wife.

Things are actually going pretty well. Yamamoto and the army are getting the civil protections they wanted, the elders are getting the fairer means of governement they wanted and the Noble houses are getting to still be Rich As Cream.

...then someone sneaks in to negotiations. Well, they were actually brought in, as part of the entourage of one of the Elders, who takes her advice very seriously. After all, she's the oldest being the elder knows- even older than whatever it was that made the nobles so powerful in the first place.

"Listen, I've worked with these slippery shits before. Make damn sure they can't betray you." she growls. "I know, Yamamoto-sama has laid a very clever trap for them-" the elder nods. "No, I mean Yamamoto." She growls, yellow eye narrowing as she tracks him and his wife as they meander around the gardens below the negotiation hall. "Not him specifically, but it was a betrayal by someone like him- someone gifted the power of heaven- who cursed me to be as I am." "...Oh." says the elder, realizing that if Yamamoto could strike down that monster that lead the Quincies, he could very easily turn his blade on the council too.

...And that's when the first cracks in the bond between Yamamoto and The Council appeared.

So it was declared thus:

The actual governing would be done by the Council of Elders, now called the Central 46.

The Noble houses would still be allowed to retain their lands and collect SOME taxes in exchange for clearly defined and legally binding responsibilities.

The Gotei-13 would be responsible for matters supernatural- People with strange powers, the balance of souls between worlds, hollows, etc. funded and housed by the Central 46.

Additionally, the four of the captain's positions in the Gotei-13 would be reserved for the scions of The Great Noble Houses, unless it somehow came to pass that there were no Scions left.

The former armies of the Noble Houses would become the Onmitsukudo*, who would do the actual enforcing of the central 46's laws and collecting of taxes in the Rukongai, as well as independently collecting information for the central 46.

The Central 46 would also cultivate and independent force of spiritually powerful souls to use the art of Kido for Civil Projects and assisting the Omnitsukido or Gotei-13 when necessary.

It's Peace, but it's a Very Uneasy Peace.

As it stands, the Gotei-13 is *a* military branch, and a force to be reckoned with should they decide to throw their weight around, but they are entirely legally beholden to the Central 46 and not allowed to enforce the law. In fact, the Central 46 and Onmitsukido are allowed to arrest and detain any shinigami they see as a threat, without notice, explanation or Trial. The Central 46 could even decide to stop funding the Gotei-13 altogether and leave them to starve if they chose.

That's why Yamamoto is so strict about direct orders from the Central 46, and why Shinigami aren't allowed into the government quarter of the city.

Is this an excessive amount of world-building? maybe Is it actually making the writing process easier because I actually know what the broader chains of causality already are so the plot flows more naturally? YES. More importantly, am I having fun? VERY MUCH YES.

...What the fuck was this about again?

Oh, right. Food.

So as you can see from the previous fucking doctoral thesis, the food situation is

INTENSELY POLITICAL

AND

EXTREMELY FRAUGHT

...but actually pretty stable!

The vast majority of flat-enough-to-use land in the Rukongai is dedicated to farming. The land mass of the districts gets larger as you get farther from Seireitei, and districts 40-75 are almost ENTIRELY agrarian, with substantial amounts of farming occurring in 20-40 and above 75.

The Primary crop is still rice, but that's been receding since Soul Society finally switched to a Fiat Currency in the 1800s.

Also since about then, a greater variety of crops from the living world have appeared, including: Tomatoes, Potatoes, Crummock, Salsify, Cantaloupe, Avocado, Jicama, Sunroot, Marijuana, Strawberries, Corn, Broccolini, blue berries, boysenberries, Chicory, Cranberries, asparagus, black berries, raspberries, black raspberries, red blackberries, Okra, Coca, lingon berries, elder berries, Rhubarb, gooseberries, salmonberries, bearberries, and so many fucking squash.

New livestock has appeared as well- Soul Society has had an almost unlimited supply of beef from the Chihuahuan Desert cattle trade, but recently there have been new arrivals from the living world- wool sheep, Dairy cattle, Llamas, Mini pigs, Micro Pigs, Guinea Pigs, Fallow Deer, and those fucked up damascus goats.

There is also a bunch of crops native to Soul Society like Hummage, Black yams, ratweed, Pinnerey, Tomangoes, Craic, Duck radish, Sisei, and So Many Fucking Beans. There is also, like Nano Pigs, Pico Pigs, Mega Pigs and the terrifying Giga Pig (actually a type of Cavy). There are also Meat Horses, wool donkeys, and riding cattle, as well as Fertile mules.

Are there Laws About It?

Bruh.

The Soul Society Department of Agriculture was the FIRST formal regulatory agency formed by the Central 46. Even before the IRS.

Soul Society Agricultural and Land-Use Law is so Complex and Arcane that Kaname invents* an entire Rice Farm Subsidy Fraud Case for that takes Momo over a DECADE to investigate in various archives (Aizen is allergic to paper dust), travel to distant districts of the Rukongai (He also gets sick on trains and gates are for emergency use only), and talk to a hell of a lot of lawyers about (Aizen hates talking to anyone who really understands contract law) specifically to keep her physically away from Aizen as much as possible. It even works! *Sort of. The Rice Subsidy Fraud is Very Very real, but difficult to investigate, so he was leaving her subconscious clues in the crossword to point her to more evidence.

Who can be bribed with Very Specific Food?

As a side-effect of shinigami appetites, very nearly everyone to at least some degree. Most have hard limits about what they will accept any kind of compensation for, but everyone can be at least inclined to consider your proposal with the right snacks.

Ukitake loves cookies. He won't break laws or promises or forgo prior engagements, but he will make little exceptions that will make everyone happier.

It's more effective to bribe Rukia with plushies instead of food.

---

Mayuri wants whole-roasted fish, especially the heads and eyeballs. Technically, Mayuri has no limits, but you're going to need to present him with something exceptional.

Nemu can be persuaded to do some truly startling things for a nice dessert. She's done felonies for a fruit parfait before.

You can't Bribe Urahara with food, but you can bribe him with edibles ;)

Akon has a chart posted on his office door what various favors cost in money, labor, cigarettes, beer and/or pirated media.

---

Zaraki doesn't have a specific food he likes, but is constantly craving calories. He's also very willing to eat all your food and then tell you to go fuck yourself. The most effective strategy is to share food while asking for nothing a few times and then ask for whatever you needed his help with outside of a food context. For better or worse, he's extremely trainable.

You can't Bribe Yachiru with what she's already stolen out of your pockets.

Ikkaku is sort of offended when people fail to attempt to bribe him, and VERY offended if they try to lowball him. What, do you think he's cheap? Will show up anywhere with a buffet tho.

Attempting to Bribe Yumichika is a great way to end up owing Yumichika for the rest of your life. He never fails to make it to Sasakibe's High Teas/Gay Bitching sessions and often takes the snacks home.

---

People try to bribe Rangiku with alcohol all the time, which is really annoying. She is Perfectly Capable of acquiring her own booze thank you! Also, they keep offering her shit like Aged Whiskey which tastes how burnt hair smells. What she REALLY wants is Neon orange "Cheez" or "Nacho Blasted" snacks from the Living World. She craves that Riboflavin.

Hitsugaya lets everyone believe he's a slut for watermelon so they don't offer him the thing he'd actually have to fight to not accept: Jerky.

---

Tousen will not be 'bribed' into doing anything and will get extremely offended if you imply that he might consider it. He will, however, go to remarkably extreme lengths to get his hands on persimmons without paying for them. Not theft, that's very unethical, but he holds a bizarre principle about never paying for that fruit so that means exploiting agricultural, fair use, zoning and Tree laws to find or plant persimmon trees that are Perfectly Legal for him to pick from.

Kensei is similarly stony about the idea of being 'bribed', and worse still has an utterly flavorless protien-based diet. Mashiro knows he's got a pathological craving for Oreos and exploits it regularly.

Shuuhei will not be bribed but he will be VERY grateful if you go fill up his water bottle for him. Dweeb.

Mashiro will sell her own granny for a corn chip because she likes snacks, loves shenanigans, and knows her granny can kick a man in half and could use the excitement.

---

Everyone *knows* Shunsui is a drinker, but the trick is that he's savoring some really, REALLY good stuff very slowly. You can't afford the shelf he's drinking from. He thought he was immune to food-based Bribery until Nanao was out of town one week and the rank-and-file Shinigami she left to mind him introduced him to the grand tradition of the post-spree Dirty Great Fry-Up. It was like waking up in heaven to his hungover ass, and now he's the one attempting to bribe his minder into making it again every time he wants to go on a bender because he refuses to wake up from one any other way again.

Nanao did not believe the minder when she told Nanao of the great power of The Dirty Great Fry-Up, but now that Shunsui limits his sprees to the availability of breakfast the following morning, Nanao is trying to figure out what kind of raise it's going to take to keep the fry cook on staff.

---

Sajin Komamura is a deeply honorable man who doesn't even like eating lunch out with a visitor lest it be misconstrued and because he's still self-concious about eating in front of others. Last spring though, someone put up flyers for Game Share tags, and Komamura met with them in private to negotiate terms and ended up putting almost half a month's salary towards at least two does, one wild sow, as many marmots as they can bag (they can keep the pelts), and the offal/feet of the other animals they bag on other tickets. Half of the following month's salary went towards an adequate chest freezer. It's worth it though. His diet had been suffering from lack of variety and some of the vitamins and other nutrients from parts humans don't eat and by December his coat is LUXURIOUS.

Tetsuzaemon won't do anything illegal but will do some remarkably stupid shit for a beer.

---

You don't even SAY the word 'bribe' in the sixth division. Byakuya will remember you forever if you bring him an extremely specific brand of seaweed snack though.

Renji will eat anything handed to him, which is a problem because he almost broke a tooth on a stapler he thought was going to be a sandwich. He's unbribable because his brain won't process anything you say to him while he's eating.

---

People kept bringing Aizen Chocolate when he was captain and he HATED it. It's not that he dislikes the food: it's that his Dead Twin Brother was an absolutely peerless confectioner and made chocolate that could make the angels weep. Not only are Aizen's standards ridiculously high, the food is a genuine trauma trigger for him.

Shinji loves him some Black Thunder Chocolate bars but is so goddamn bad at conversations that he will not grok what the FUCK someone is talking about when they try to bribe him. He'll think they're a bad conversationalist with good taste in candy.

Some god thought they were being real funny when they made Momo be born with an aversion to peaches and a deep fondness for Sour and bitter Flavors. Shinji did manage to remember her joking about that and bought her a jar of pickled lemons for her birthday as a joke, and was genuinely surprised when she was moved to tears.

You have to Bribe Hiyori to even get her to listen to your proposal for the thing you're actually trying to bribe her for. For Better or Worse, she trades in novel potato chip flavors.

---

Attempting to bribe Unohana with food is an absolute crapshoot, because what she'll accept is a complex internal metric of how serious the favor is, how much she likes you, and how much she likes the proferred snack. You might be able to get a perscription for something that's normally a band substance for some Senbei, you might lose your nose for even bringning Okra into her hosptial. Best not play that particular roulette.

Isane is impossible to bribe because she just agrees to stuff before you can bring out the payment. Sure, you got your surgery moved or your hands in some pretty heavy drugs, but you'll walk away with the feeling that, since you didn't actually pay her for this, you actually OWE her now, and you'd be right. You'd better believe she'll call in that favor whenever she needs it, because you're *friends*, aren't you? It also never occurs to anyone to offer her her favorite food: Apples.

Hanataro has accidentally taken bribes multiple times because he did not realize people were attempting to pay him. He thinks it's just basic manners to show up at someone else's home or office with snacks and also people are wildly misinformed about what he's legally allowed to do. What? they wanted me to BREAK A LAW? FOR KIT-KATS?? The boy loves him some kit-kats but not to the point of committing a FELONY, what the fuck???

---

Izuru once walked in on Gin swallowing a rat whole, turned around and tried desperately to pretend he hadn't actually seen that for a year, until he REALLY fucked up his scheduling conflicts and needed an extra week of paid time off to go to a friend's wedding and in a fit of panic, attatched a deceased rat suitable for serpentine consumption he purchased from a pet store. Gin was more than happy to give him the time off and hey, a little hazard pay so you can get something nice for the happy couple Unfortunately, this also condemned Izuru to having Gin lean out of his office at least every other month and holler "Hey Izuru? What's our Rat Guy's phone number?" loud enough to be heard by the entire Division.

Rose can be bribed with anything from a patisserie.

---

People keep givng Soi Fon honey which is honestly starting to feel like a microaggression at this point. What she REALLLY wants is a bucket of fried chicken.

You can't Bribe Omaeda with food, he's the one feeding YOU. Sit down and stop yapping, you're skin and bones!

---

Yamamoto does not accept bribes, at all, ever. He does accept all forms of SUPER MEGA SPICY FLAMING DEATH-REINCARNATION-AND-SECOND-FLAMING-DEATH TURBOFIRE HOT hot sauce.

Sasakibe has been assisitant headmaster of Shin'o academy since it was founded before the fall of Rome. no matter how delicious your offer or how clever your scheme, an adolescent dork already made a better version of it like 700 years ago. Pathetic. What Sasakibe REALLY wants is to be able serve high tea to an adoring crowd. Hope you like cucumber sandwiches.

Okay this is like 5.2K and it's 3AM I'm gonna end this and go to bed.

[crj-200]

PSA for anyone tending aircraft!!!!!!!

The FDA, CDC, and FAA have identified a HUGE uptick in cases of PS in Boeing planes over the past 3 months, with 737s being the most vulnerable to critical symptoms and autoimmune complications after infection.

For those who don't know, PS (Pteroium saprosis, also known as Boeing's Flap, Wing Rot, or Aileron Disease) is an autoimmune condition that can develop as a result of a fungal infection of the plane's dermal layer of skin, caused by the Sapromyces fungus native to North America. The condition causes the dermis to weaken and die, which in turn leads to chunks of tissue rotting and falling off of the wing, further infections, and potential death. This condition is not curable and can be very quickly fatal when not managed properly. Currently, the best we can do to treat this is to replace components as they decay. [X]

While most aircraft will experience very few (if any) symptoms of infection if caught early, aircraft that do not receive treatment or become highly symptomatic regardless of treatment are at extreme risk of developing the condition. Extreme risk meaning 93 out of 100 highly symptomatic planes will get PS.

There is no commercial vaccine currently available. Right now the University of Washington's AiRR (Aerozoology in Research and Rehabilitation) Zoo is in the process of developing one that looks promising, but it won't be available to the public until at least 2032. If you want to support the AiRR Zoo's research you can donate here.

How can you limit exposure and keep your plane safe?

Test your aircraft DAILY.

If a positive case is found, the infected aircraft must be immediately quarantined and be seen by a medical/mechanical professional within 24 hours of the first positive test. Outside of this window, it's 3x more likely your aircraft will develop the disorder. [X]

Clean bedding every other day at MINIMUM.

The fungal spores that cause Boeing's Flap thrive in areas that attract dampness, dust, and waste, making your aircraft's hangar bedding an ideal place for it to spread. Replacing or cleaning their bedding every two days drastically cuts down the amount of fungi in the hangar at any time. The International Civil Aerozoology Committee identified this as a "best practice" when handling sick and recovering aircraft in any setting. [X]

Watch what goes in their mouth.

The top way aircraft get exposed to the fungi is from chewing on fallen tree limbs and shedded car parts. If you see ANYTHING in their mouth while they're outside, TAKE IT OUT. I know a lot of aircraft like to gnaw and will get upset by this, but this could ultimately save their life.

Bring your aircraft with you.

If you're able, keep your aircraft near you at all times to monitor what they're getting into. Check if your employer has an ACI/WO (AirCraft In/Worker Out) policy that provides either a plane-friendly workplace for you to bring your aircraft to work for health monitoring, or allows you to work and monitor your aircraft from home. Not every employer will have this, unfortunately. You are able to use AMLA (AeroMedical Leave) to care for sick aircraft, but a lot of requirements need to be met: the type/infectiousness/severity of illness, living within 30 miles of a commercial airport, and your status as their legal owner. Note that this doesn't apply for preventative care, just the care and maintenance of already sick aircraft.

ANYWAYS I know this post got super long but PLEASE spread this so more people are aware. Any aircraft lost to PS is too many, and if this spreads to working planes the results could be catastrophic. Keep your critters safe guys <3

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Birdbox (3/5)

Word count; 3.8k

For the first time, Y/n had the concious thought about whether they could use their ability to see their surroundings. They always thought their blindness was a curse, but in the apolcolypse, it had come in usefully. Whether this was only an ability in their sleep, Y/n had yet to determine, but they hoped it wasn’t — Y/n didn’t see any other way to survive.

Y/n laid their head against the counter. They plugged their phone in, dreading the day when electricity was no longer available and Siri — Y/n’s only friend — was silenced. And then came the issue of food. They were stuck. Y’n couldn’t help but ponder death. They were aware of how generally awful they were as a person, and that kept Y/n with a will to live and a will to die.

Y/n was selfish, rude, and a coward. They were bitter at the world for being unfair and punished the people around them the same. Too selfish and afraid to die, but too hateful toward the world to live. It was a conundrum. Y/n figured, though, that their general confusion would be the death of them, as they were too confused on what to do. Y/n had their talents in a paintbrush, not a weapon. Y/n couldn’t see. Y/n hardly knew the area because their father often shipped groceries to their doorstep so Y/n only left the house for exhibitions, interviews, and art supplies. 

Their father. Y/n sat up, grabbing the phone. 

“Hey, Siri. Call dad.”

The phone began ringing. The screen was slightly cracked, but its not as though Y/n cared. The phone rang. And rang. And rang.

“The person you are trying to reach is unavailable. After the tone, please leave a message.”

A wave of sadness and worry washed over Y/n. They recognized that their father was the most important person in their life. Perhaps his phone was dead. Perhaps it was lost. Perhaps he was asleep.

Or perhaps he was dead.

For the first time since hell had descended on earth, Y/n began to cry. They wandered over to the couch to lay down, curling on their side. For the first time in a while, they thought of ‘Last Look’s dreadful day.

“Doctor, why can’t my child see? How can they get their sight back?” their father pleaded.

“Sir, I’m sory, We’ve ran several tests, but sometimes, things like this happen. A hidden gene. A faulty switch in the occipital lobe. Although there is still no noticable differences in their brain development, nerves, or blood work, cases like this happen. It’s unfortunate, and unfair. Sometimes, the eyes shut down entirely overnight from unknown causes. And, currently, we don’t have the technology to do anything about it.”

Their father’s eyebrows furrowed. Although Y/n couldn’t see it, he was losing hope. He wondered if he had somehow failed his only child. 

“I… I did some research. They somehow made a young boy see again —“

“That was a scientific anomaly, sir,” the doctor argued desperately. “And anyway, this clinic is incapable of giving that kind of treatment.”

Y/n’s father began to sob. They are crying, too. The doctor’s words scared them. They clawed and rubbed at their eyes, but their father grabbed their hands, squeezing tightly. He comforted them, whispering sweet words that everything would be alright. That they would make due. That there was nothing wrong with being blind. That it wasn’t the end of the world.

But Y/n was only a child. Their entire future had been robbed. Y/n didn’t know of any blind heros. Anyone out there that made a living or lived independently. Y/n was uneducated. All they knew was that their world had ended, and that they wanted to see again.

And see they now did. Y/n shot up. It was but a blink, but they saw. It was like they physically transcended their body and walked to the door, going right through it. They reached for a canvas, their fingers tracing it like a memory. A man. Middle-aged, beer-bellied, straggling jawline, balding. Pale eyes with a daze. Pounding, over and over. His knuckles bleeding. His clothes torn and bloody. The woman’s corpse beside him, eyes torn open and from her skull, as though his fingers had dug into them to remove them personally. In the woman’s chest, there was an iron rod.

Y/n could still see it clearly. The man was really there, still pounding ruthlessly. Y/n had blocked out the knocking, but with sudden focus, their ears returned to the sound.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

They dropped the brush and went over to the kitchen. They pulled a knife from the drawe, removing the blade cover. The wind was still howling outside, pounding at the windows. They went over to the door.

Y/n suddenly found courage and a voice.

“How are you alive? Why are you here? How did you know I was here?”

The knocking stopped suddenly. With its absense, an eerie silence followed. Y/n suddenly regretted speaking up.

A gruff voice, enchanted yet ery, very dry and cracked, answered. “They showed me true beuty. They want me to show you. Let me give you my eyes, Y/n. I want to give you my eyes —“

“Why is everyone else dead but you? What’s doing all this?” Y/n’s voice was shaky yet steady. 

“…Sinners. All of them. They did not want to see. But I do. You do. They want me to show you it all. Open the door, Y/n. Let me give you my eyes.”

“That’s impossible. I am blind. Please, leave me alone —“

“But you have the sight!” the man suddenly boomed. “They gave it to you a long, long time ago. And now, they will show you everything great and beautiful. Open the door. Open the door. Let me give you my eyes.”

Y/n only grew more confused with every sentence. Nothing made sense. 

“How will you give me your eyes?”

Manic, cracked laughter ensued. “I will tear them from my skull and hand them to you. You must see it, Y/n. It is beautiful! Beautiful, I tell you! Open the door!”

“Leave your eyes at the doorstep. I will take them that way.”

“I wish to see you myself. They speak so highly of you. You are the most beautiful landscape of all. I must see you, Y/n. I must see you and hand you my eyes —!”

Shivers rolled down their spine and they took a step away from the door. Y/n was left with more questions than answers. The whole endeavor was pointless. However, Y/n knew that they couldn’t stand the knocking anymore. And they didn’t trust that this man would just die. Something supernatural had consumed the world. The man’s eyes weren’t normal. Perhaps his biology wasn’t, either.

With that, Y/n didn’t let the fear take over. They unlocked the front door and swung it open. The voice was no longer muffled. They aimed to stab, but the man suddenly bellowed and collapsed to his knees. The man was far more vocally gruesome with a door no longer seperating them. The man bowed.

His scarred, bloody hands touched Y/n’s feet. He scrambled and panted. Y/n is left stunned, allowing the man to grovel at their feet. 

Sobs echoed the empty hallway.

And Y/n was shaking from head to toe.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” he cried. “They were right! The most beautiful thing in creation!”

His praises fell on deaf ears. Rough hands squeezed Y/n’s feet and they felt overwhelming disgust, overpowering the fear. The hands clawe at their calves and then their thighs. Suddenly, he withdrew, falling silent. His face was drenched in sweat. He glistened with salt and oil. Tears continued to fall, and although Y/n did not know, his eyes were glued to their figure in awe.

And then, he began to claw. He dug his thumb and pointer finger into his eyelids. Y/n stumbled back, hearing the squelch. The man released painful gurgles. Slowly and painfully, he removed his eyes. The man sobbed desperately, and yet all he cried was blood.

Y/n felt a spray against their pants. Y/n had enough. Their selfish, angry side kicked in, adrenaline suddenly bursting through their veins. Gritting their teeth, they stabbed the man in the neck, somehow knowing exactly where to aim. The man gurgled out a cry, dropping his eyeballs and collapsing to the welcome mat. Y/n kicked the man away, feeling their socks get drenched with liquids. The man’s thud was the last sound he made. 

Y/n felt around the corpse for the knife, disgusted. They removed it. 

They slammed the door shut and locked it again.

The corpse sat there. The man lay there, decaying and wet. The eyeballs were completely seperated and long cords spun out from his eyes. Despite the pain he and Y/n had caused, the man was smiling.

Y/n was rattled to their core, turning and sliding down the door. Their hands had intense tremors. They knew damn well they couldn’t stay stuck. The wind was howling, harder and harder. The beast was near. And the insane missionary had found them once. Another one surely could. 

Y/n stayed frozen on the floor, cradling the moist knife like a child, for a very, very long time. It was slowly settling on them that they had commited murder. It didn’t feel like self-defense. The man had worshipped them, for christ’s sake. They couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened, had they taken the eyes? What would they have seen?

They decided to think it over in the shower; they knew they had to move while they had the resources. Siri wouldn’t live forever. Their food supply wouldn’t last. They needed to find a grocery store to camp in — one that wouldn’t be too populated with hypothetical looters.

They also needed resolution on what happened to their father.

When they hopped out of the shower, they began to pack the essentials: their charger, phone, cane, clothing, food, and paints. Everything they’d need to survive, but also live. 

Y/n’s first thought of where to go was the corner store down the block. It’s where they often went for an easy snack. Y/n took their cane and turned Siri on to the corner store. They shoved the phone in their pocket after plugging in earbuds. 

They felt their way toward the elevator. Their ears were keen, but the hallway was silent.Usually, their apatment building was full of hustle and bustle, especially at… god, Y/n didn’t even know what time it was. So, they asked while in the elevator.

“Seven-thirty-three.”

The elevator beeped and the doors opened. More silence. Siri repeated directions, but Y/n knew the way to the front entrance. 

They paused. The beast seemed to follow their every move; it was everywhere. It was the air Y/n was breathing. That much they knew. They hovered, afraid to leave. But Y/n’s will to survive and be selfish was the most important part.

And then they hear it: a screaming woman. Y/n dashed out the door, selfishly believing this was their chance. In Y/n’s mind, the wind would divert its attention, even if it was an entire entity. The screams echoed and grew louder. The wind was bustling and squealing in their ears. They could hardly use their cane, relying solely on Siri’s directions.

“Turn left to reach your destination.”

Y/n skidded to a stop, losing their footing. Y/n grunted loudly, knowing they would probably be left with a nasty bruise. They scrambled onto their knees. They dropped the cane, but as the wind whistled and bustled, the cane was the last thing on their mind. In their world of darkness, they crawled forward, finally feeling at a glass panel. Y/n scrambled to their feet, gripping the handle.

They pulled at it desperately, almost falling again as the door swung open. They felt papers adorn the inside, and a wave of relief washed over them as they pulled the door shut. Y/n was shaking in their boots as they held the position, feeling the wind beat against the door. 

Click.

Y/n tensed, turning wildly and reluctantly releasing the doorknob. Their voice came out as a squeak.

“Who’s there?”

“Don’t move. Hands up.”

A man’s voice echoed in the otherwise silent corner store. The man sounds gruff, and Y/n can tell that the man sounds rather redneck. And by the clicking, the man held a gun. Y/n complied.

The man emerged from behind a shelf, crouched slightly, and had a pistol aimed directly at them. Y/n panted, unaware of the man’s exact location. Their head turned every which way, attempting to locate the man. The man wore a dark leather jacket and was somewhat older. He had a peppered beard and a big bald spot on his head. He wore glasses and ripped jeans, giving off the general aesthetic of a retired biker. 

“Now, what’s it like out there? Have you seen it?”

“I - I don’t know. It’s quiet, sir,” Y/n stuttered. “I’m blind — I can’t see the monster —“

“Bullshit.”

“I dropped my cane right outside the door —“

“I know you’re just like the last guy. Trying to fool me, are you —“

“I’m blind! I’m Y/n L/n — I’m famous, haven’t you fucking heard of me, you fucking loser?” Y/n exclaimed, almost insulted. “Just look out, and you’ll see you fucking cane —“

While Y/n had been ranting and tossing insults at the man, he had progressed silently. Y/n stared out blankly, expression angry and unchanging as the man snuck up on them. Y/n paused, breathing heavily. All they saw was darkness, unaware of whether a gunshot would shoot them dead.

“Boo.”

Y/n jumped wildly, flailing to the ground. They burst into tears, which made the man laugh. He glanced out the paper, noticing the cane. “By golly, I guess you are blind. Or one hell of an actor. You don’t got the same eyes as them, either.”

“Jesus, fuck you —“

The man lowered his gun and chuckled gruffly. “Yeah, yeah. If you saw the world we were living in right now, you’d understand. Now, get away from the door and behind this here counter.”

Without asking, the man grabbed and pulled them. Y/n frowned firmly but allowed it to happen. Behind the counter was a small pile of wrapper trash and a torn up sleeping bag. The man beckoned to sit, but they gathered that once they felt the counter. Their movements were still skittery, untrusting of the man before them.

“So, let’s exchange stories.”

“Stories?”

“My name is Mark. I’m the owner of this establishment, although that doesn’t mean much these days,” he explained. “I followed the news religiously, waiting for something like this. Then, I noticed reports of mass hysteria starting in Italy. I shut down shop immediately, and not even an hour or so later, the news turned to shit, and so did the world outside. I learned that whatever’s out there cannot be seen and all that shit, so I’ve got my trusty blindfold around my neck just in case. And finally, I guess it’s safe here for now, but we sure as hell can’t stay here. It’s a fucking corner store. The supplies aren’t endless.”

Y/n listened intently to his ramblings and, deciding to suspend distrust, nodded and replied. “Yeah, okay. So, I’m blind. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of me. I’m the ‘blind painter.’ I had a gallery that day and was heading home when it all started. Uh, and I was fine until I started having… dreams. Seeing things that were there. Like this cult guy outside my door that wouldn’t leave me alone. I actually saw what he looked like in my head. I killed the guy and he was fucking worshiping me. Something about how he wanted me to see. God, he pulled out his eyes —“ Y/n stopped, replaying that moment in their head and shuddering. “Uh, and I came here… Oh. And I’m Y/n.”

“The fuck?”

“I guess this plague affects everyone differently, but if I’d known that, I sure as hell wouldn’t have let you in.”

“It’s a gift,” Y/n insisted anxiously. “A stupid one. But my father always told me god gave me eyes in my dreams. The truth is, I think I’ve seen the monster in my dreams. And when I focused, I could see the man outside my apartment. But only when asleep.”

“Prove it. Show me some of your drawings. You obviously brought the fucking supplies.”

“I haven’t used this notebook in years. It’s only old drafts,” Y/n answered, withdrawing the notebook from their bag. 

“Well, if you’re some fancy painter, it doesn’t really matter.”

Without warning, the man snatched the notebook from their grasp and started going through the pages. He slowly goes through them, ignoring Y/n’s angry expression from the invasion. Inside the notebook was several drafts of pretty locations. Some faces. The occasional animal.

Mark paused at a page, his brows crinkling. “This the monster you saw in your head?”

“What is it?”

Mark described it to them.

“Yes. Although that could have been my imagination.”

Mark continued to stare at the scribbles. It was somehow made of clean yet untidy scribbles. There was a large circle surrounding a large head that had long, spindly tendrils, leaving a cavernous mouth. The thing had slits for eyes, and there was a gleam to the flesh of the beast. It was like a halo over it, and Mark couldn’t help but admire the drawing. 

Then, he turned the page to find another one. He was suspicious, but the drawings were aged and marked with a date from several years ago. This drawing had a clearer face image, showing the tall, slimy forehead. The slits for eyes were open, bulbous, and consumed with black charcoal. The tendrils leaked down the paper like Y/n had switched to paint halfway through.

After that sketch, it returned to an image of a mountain waterfall.

“…Huh. So you’re telling me you saw this shit coming too?”

“Hardly. I thought they were nothing but recurring dreams until now.”

“Well, let me get some food. I think there’s a spare sleeping bag in the back, too.”

Mark rose and weaved around Y/n. Y/n remained still, grabbing their notebook back and getting lost in thought.

They thought about how long they would be able to stay, especially in the company of Mark. Another person meant the distribution of resources, but Mark could also see and shoot. Y/n figured their thoughts were selfish, but the world would probably be much prettier without fellow humans polluting it. Yn didn’t care much bout life, but cared enough that they refused to commit suicide. Y/n wondered if their father was alive —

Y/n heard a door open and assumed Mark was returning. Mark returned with a box of Frosted Flakes and a rolled-up, far newer sleeping bag. 

A sense of safety and exhaustion reached Y/n as they silently munched on Frosted Flakes. The taste was slightly stale, and despite their typical pickiness, there was a sense of comfort. They came to terms calmly with the fact that the apocalypse was upon them. That meant that stale cereal, a warm sleeping bag, and a man with a gun weren’t the worst things in the world at that moment.

“You sure you aren’t possessed?” Mark yawned, perking up and cradling his pistol.

“He said ‘they’’ wanted to give me my eyes back. To give me true sight. The ma worshipped me as a god,” Y/n recalled with a pause. “I wish I was possessed because whatever they are seeing… it must be incredible.”

~~~

Y/n was awoken from a deep, terrifying slumber with animated shaking. “Wake the fuck up!” Mark bellowed. “What are you seeing?”

Y/n scrambled, sleep in their eyes. Mark was on top of things, scrambling for their paint palette and notebook. Y/n felt at them. Some terrified tears escaped their eyes as they scribbled roughly on the notebook paper. Mark was silent and watched carefully as Y/n drew, their gaze staring up fearfully and unknowingly making direct eye contact with Mark.

Y/n suddenly dropped the paint brush and panted. “This. I saw this.”

Y/n handed the notebook over. Some time had passed; according to Mark, they had rationed well, and a week or so had passed. Trust had formed between the two of them. Sometimes, Y/n dreamt and they drew. But based on the violence in their head, Mark must have known something was especially wrong with this one. Y/n often woke up with the sun, according to Mark, but Y/n had the sense that the sun was not up yet.

“I… hope I drew it right. I saw many, many people. A mob. They were walking down a road, dazed and enchanted. They’ve seen it.”

Mak analyzed the work intensely. He was still amazed at his comrade's ability and figured it would be his demise. But at least it kept him on his toes. It made for conversation, too. 

The image depicted rocky, cold, and dying terrain with stale grass and swamplands in the distance. A few abandoned, rotting cars were on a large, spacious road, which was covered in oddly detailed figures. The mob was walking, dazed, just as Y/n had described. The mob was thick, and despite their harmless and dumb expressions, they yielded weapons — anything from crowbars to hammers to guns. 

“That’s Dale. My coworker,” Mark stated, pointing to one of the figures. “We worked at the same local construction company for a while.”

“Local?”

“Local.”

The realization dawned on the pair. Mark examined the road further. “That same road. It’s the main road leading into town.”

“Fuck.”

“Do you know what that means? Why are they coming here?” Mark inquired carefully, perturbed by the situation.

“They’re… coming for me, I think. It won’t take a genius to realize that I moved. Please, we have to go somewhere else —“

“Jesus, I get it. Let’s pack what we can. We can go out to back. And, Y/n, I want you to wear this blindfold. Just in case.”

[ceasarslegion]

By the wishes of a few people, here's my advice post about living alone. Keep in mind I'm speaking from the perspective of a canadian urbanite, so this will not apply to absolutely everybody in every kind of culture, economy, living situation, those in rural areas, etc. This also is not assuming wealth disparities are a matter of personal attitude, i KNOW it's complicated. Get back with that shit right now, you know damn well this advice assumes you are able to achieve the financial means to live on your own and is not disparaging anyone who legitimately can't.

Let's cover the basics first.

Source of income:

This seems rather obvious, but your income should be regular and reliably the same or similar on a monthly basis. The most obvious way to achieve this is with a job, and I'm sorry but minimum wage is not going to cut it on your own anymore, which means you're going to have to swallow your pride and accept that you'll likely have to work for some industry or corporation with a dodgy moral record. Get used to it. There is no point in self-flagellation, the world is complicated, just take the 50-60k a year office job, no one actually expects you not to and nobody will hold it against you when the "moral" option is soul-crushing retail. The real world really doesn't give a shit what you have to do to afford a comfortable lifestyle as long as you do what good you can within your abilities, no one in the real world expects you to sacrifice your own wellbeing for a cause.

Salaried positions are your most reliable because you'll always pull the same amount, while hourly pay comes with the ability to pull overtime pay in exchange for more shifts, but if you run out of sick days you'll have to spend the rest of the year taking unpaid time off when you need to call in. Whichever one you choose depends on what's available to you and what's right for you physically and mentally, I can't make that call for you.

You also need a credit card. That is non-negotiable. If you don't have a credit score, you can't sign a lease. Bad credit is better than no credit. We can argue until the cows come home whether or not credit scores are good or bad, but it's just reality that you're going to need one. The good news is it's fairly easy to build credit from no credit: you just have to pay off your credit card in full on time every time. The bad news is it's equally as easy to tank your credit score, you just have to miss one or pay it too late, and it's very hard to build good credit back from bad credit. So don't see it as free money, only spend as much as you can pay back, and if you don't have credit right now, start with small things like lunch and little treats that you immediately pay off.

Looking for a place to live:

Once you have your regular and reliable source of income, you can start looking for your place. There's a few things you should keep in mind:

-Draw up a budget for how much you can spend on rent and bills. That includes all basic living expenses: rent, utilities, food, internet, phone, hygiene. Compare how much you make per month to what you can spend. 1/3 to 1/2 of your salary is a bit more realistic to expect to spend on rent alone nowadays, so work within that range when you apartment hunt. Think of everything when you're budgeting, like how much do you spend on haircuts per month? You probably didn't think of that, because I didn't either at first.

-Apartment buildings with some/all utilities included often have higher base rents. You have to keep in mind that this is so the landlord can balance out the utility bills of the whole building, which are unpredictable expenses and on them to pay every month. If you don't know how to budget yet or don't know how to do so with unpredictable bills, I highly recommend trying to find a place with utilities included so you know EXACTLY how much you'll need to pay every month and can plan in advance

-Older buildings tend to be both cheaper and more likely to have centralized utility systems, which means they have to include it in the price of rent because there's no way to tell who used how much of something. If it's your first place alone, you'll probably be tempted to get the brand new, expensive building down the road, but it won't actually make much of a difference when you move in. You will love it regardless.

-Never ever sign a lease until you've either seen THE unit you're considering, or one of the show units that is exactly the same layout. The last thing you want is to go off online photos only to move in and find out the building has a mold problem. You can arrange personal tours by contacting the building manager or the landlord directly. Phone calls are the best way to do this.

-If you want the unit after seeing it, you know you can afford it, there's nothing funny about the place, apply IMMEDIATELY. Places are usually on the market for a few days before they're snapped up by a new tenant, you have to strike while the iron's hot.

-If you've decided on the place you want and had your application accepted, read the lease carefully before you sign. Many places require tenant insurance that meet specific policy requirements, have registration rules about long-term guests, outline how the parking works, quiet hours, smoking rules, mail, laundry, all the way down to what kind of barbecues are allowed on your deck in the case of mine (I am in a wildfire danger zone, so any types that produce embers are strictly prohibited for fire safety reasons). Ask any question that comes to mind about the lease. Not everything in a lease is some human rights violation just because you don't like landlords, keep in mind you're living in the same building as dozens of other people, so there has to be ground rules established for everyone's sanity.

-Internet is often not considered a utility so you'll have a hard time finding any place that includes it. You can arrange to have your wifi set up in advance of a moving date on a specific time and date, do this right after you sign a lease so you don't forget. They won't charge you until you're actually hooked up to the network.

-If your utilities are NOT included, get those set up in advance too. The main ones are HVAC, water, and electricity. The companies that do this vary depending on where you live and what's available, so shop around online once you've signed your lease and sign up as soon as possible. The last thing you want is to forget this and then move into a dark freezing apartment with no water.

Budgeting:

After your living expenses are covered, you should have a comfortable amount of financial wiggle room leftover. If you wouldn't, the place you're looking at is either too expensive, or you're being overcharged elsewhere. It's completely normal for living expenses to take up most of your budget these days, you're doing just fine in the same boat as everybody else if that's the case, so don't panic yet. If you have absolutely NOTHING leftover though, then you're out of your price range.

You also need to set money aside for fun and saving. Do not forego fun money, your brain will try to kill you with hammers and knives if you never get or do things for yourself. And if you're on your own, you're the only one providing that for yourself now. And a solid building base of savings will only help you in the future, whether you lose your job, have an emergency, or even need a down payment on a house later in life. Don't be a doomer about your circumstances or the socioeconomic and generational cards that were dealt to you, chip away at it a little at a time. And don't fall for social media's insistence that anybody with anything at all is some bourgeois degenerate or that being fortunate enough to be able to have upward mobility makes you some ultra wealthy shithead, working towards a comfortable standard of living for yourself does not make you a rich elite or a bad person. You're working towards the standard we should all live as, not exploiting the poor or being a class traitor. I feel the need to add that last part since we're on the website of "struggling art students in NYC are bourgeois that are just bad with money and having a gaming computer makes you upper middle class." Don't listen to a word any of those people say, I know it comes from a place of very real hurt and pain for them but that doesn't make it grounded in absolute reality for absolutely everybody.

Social needs:

If you're by yourself, there's gonna be a lot more work you have to put in for your social and entertainment needs. I can not stress enough how important it is to give this the time and work it needs, do not neglect this.

Lots of libraries have clubs you can join that will get you out of the house and meeting new people regularly. They're either free or very inexpensive. This is a great place to start.

Take advantage of technology we have now. Hop on discord calls more frequently, make sure you're talking to your friends on the regular and try to make plans as much as you can.

Also, I advise finding lots of things you can do by yourself. You will be spending way more time alone than you ever have before, so find single-person hobbies. Go thrifting, get into knitting, go explore the city, read lots of books, do puzzles, just don't lock yourself inside all day in your free time. Even if you're doing it alone, going out and seeing that the world is bigger than your apartment and your workplace is very good for you.

Misc advice:

You don't need a conventional coffee pot maker. Single serving will suit you just fine.

Cleaning is easier when you have a routine. It doesn't all have to be done on the same day of the week, but having a regular schedule of what gets cleaned when for non-daily chores will help you keep on top of it. And please, god, don't neglect your cleaning and hygiene just because no one lives with you to see it. On that note, spray bottle all purpose cleaners are your best friend for daily spot cleaning and you should deep clean your washroom around every 2 weeks in my experience since that's where you'll be doing most of your personal hygiene. Also make your damn bed, yes you'll just get back into it at the end of the day but having a major part of your space neat and tidy will do wonders for your mental health.

Don't buy the cheap garbage bags. Some things you really do want the expensive shit for.

If you don't have a car, delivery service/rideshare subscriptions ARE worth it and legitimately economical in the long run. I do wanna circle back to square one and say that yes, most of them like prime and uber do have dodgy moral records, but sometimes you just gotta swallow your pride and accept that. Once again, no one in the real world expects you to spend your entire day on public transit looking for toilet paper that isnt 30 dollars a pack or lugging 50 pounds of groceries back on a bus just for a cause. It's not the fault of someone who needs these services for their quality of life that they do the things they do, don't put that responsibility on your or other's shoulders when the fault lies at the top of the corporate ladder.

When you're budgeting for living expenses, expect your income to be at the lowest and your expenses to be at the highest. I expect 2 call ins per month and to need to spend the max amount i have on groceries every time, that way I never fall short and never have to cut into my savings that I've dubbed my "oh shit, I'm broke" money. Your emergency reserve may look tempting to you, but as someone who has been in a position where they had to drain it to nothing in the past because of an unforeseen financial emergency, you REALLY are gonna want that untouched if and when shit hits the fan. Life is unpredictable, prepare to roll with the punches so they don't knock you out.

A few people wanted to be tagged in this, so here you go @lilsnatch and @kisstheashes <3

[afyrian]

line four - sampling desserts together m.list

    a large sign rests over the entrance of your local restaurant and bar, trellis tavern. backlighting illuminating the lettering. looking through the front doors, you don't see sakusa in sight. for a second, you look back at the parking lot your car is sitting in, wondering if this was a terrible idea. you barely know him, unsure of how he comes across outside of the workplace.

  and yet there'll always be that part of you that knows that the only way to save your show, is to get to know him better, break his walls. your tongue runs along your teeth, hand stuffed in your pocket while the other absentmindedly flips on and off the ringer of your phone. leaning towards the doors once more, you still don't see him.

  "sorry, parking was-" someone starts to say behind you, causing you to jump in your spot, pushing against the restaurant's outer wall, "horrendous..."

  turning around, you see sakusa standing there, his hands resting at his sides. your eyes are wide as your heart beats quickly in your chest, ringing forming in your ears. "you can't just- oh my god, you scared the living shit out of me," one of your hands comes up to your forehead, fingers running along your hairline.

  "sorry, was just trying to find parking," sakusa purses his lips, looking towards the restaurant, "we should probably see how long the wait is."

  assuming you'd follow him inside, he walks in briskly, his attitude to the point. narrowing your eyes, you wonder if he's this back and forth with everyone new or just you. especially after seeing him joke with atsumu in the break room. pushing open the restaurant's doors, you make your way in, listening to the soft music playing over the speakers. 

  there's a few people in front of him, leaving the two of you stand in silence. your gaze makes its way to him more than once, noticing little details about him and his appearance. like the beauty marks by his eyebrow and his hair that curls into a perfect pile above his head. or how he likes to look at certain things in the restaurant, the art, the people.

  he's quick to step up to the hostess, leaving space for you to join him, "we were wondering if you have any space for around twenty people tonight?"

  the hostess clears her throat upon hearing the request, her hands resting on the podium. "luckily for you, we have the event space that you could rent for a couple hours. the only issue is that we have an event going on currently that ends in around thirty minutes. if you could wait, we can send your phone a message and get you over here," her eyebrows raise as she realizes that they have the space available, knowing that they like to book a couple months out.

  writing down his number, you sway back and forth on the balls of your feet. "thank you..." sakusa nods, turning around to look at you, lips pursed, "and thank you for your good luck."

  "anytime," you wink, the action coming from a deep subconscious voice within, looking away from him, your nose scrunches up in disgust.

  "well we can grab a cake or two for the event, osamu has a food critic slash baker working at onigiri miya for the day. although, i think she's going to become more of a regular baker there," he maneuvers his body, walking around another customer waiting to talk to the hostess, a sly smile on his lips. 

  nodding softly, you can feel the excitement building as he starts to talk more. giving you information that only a close friend would be privy to. you can feel yourself smiling, your mouth turned into a soft crescent shape. following him down the street, you start to recognize the area. the pottery shop just a door down from onigiri miya, kiyoko's flower shop not too far away.

  sakusa opens the door for you, letting you enter the pristine restaurant. it's just how you remember it from your times visiting with atsumu. osamu stands by the cashier, the restaurant slowly dying down from what you assume to be a rather busy day with the offering of cake. he's leaning against the counter, talking to someone bringing another cake forward.

  her gaze quickly finds the two of you entering, giving osamu a wave before heading to the back. "so, the cakes seem to be a hit. you guys gonna make it a regular thing.. or?" sakusa crosses his arms in front of his chest, his smile still holding.

  osamu shakes his head, leaning back, "how about i just ask what you guys would like to eat? hi y/n, it's been awhile since i've seen you around here."

  "been ordering a lot online, if you see any getting ordered to the station it's usually me. but we're actually here to get some cake for the station's anniversary, twenty-five years. and we have to wait for the space to finish up," you nod, staring down the few cakes that the woman had brought forward, the decorations looking out of this world. 

  nodding his head, osamu grabs a serving knife, taking a couple slices and resting them on a plate. "take these, try them out, and i'll set aside a few cakes for you guys," he sets down the plate, grabbing a couple forks for the two of you to use.

  not passing on the offer of a free slice of cake, you happily take it. and with the atmosphere that onigiri miya garners, it's easy to be happy sitting in a corner table, looking out the windows. it's starting to get dark outside, the colorful hues in the sky starting to form as the days get shorter. shoving a fork into one of the slices, you take a bite, dwelling in the sweet aroma. 

  "so how'd you meet the miya brothers?"

  "i actually met them in secondary school, played volleyball against them. they were as insufferable as they are now, but as a team they were scary," sakusa takes a bite of the other slice, holding his fork up in the air as his elbow rests on the table, casually, "how'd you meet them?"

  "met atsumu at the station, when he was a writer for one of the fiction audio shows. don't even know how they hired him for a writing position, not with his... creative abilities," you laugh, knowing that writing was never gonna be where he ended up. 

  "when he somehow recommended me for a position there i was actually surprised he wasn't lying the whole time about this show he was gonna be on," sakusa shakes his head, using his fork to grab a piece from your slice.

  narrowing your eyes, you reach your fork down and take a piece from his. tasting it, you realize that this cake would be perfect for the event. and that, hopefully now, sakusa's seeing you as more than just a coworker. but as someone he could go to lunch with, rant about romance or life problems. "yeah i'm not surprised. so, i hope you're enjoying ‘talk it out’ as much as you liked ‘late night rebounds’,” you shrug, trying to come across as nonchalant.

  “yeah, it has been more enjoyable to hear about friends crushing on one another instead of relentless one night stands,” one of his hands scratch the back of his head, taking another bite.

  smiling, you finally feel like you’re breaking through his shell. that the pounding in your heart and ears stems from a new friendship that you’re brewing.

a/n: osamu’s ‘mystery’ friend is y/n from @/lale-txt’s soft launch :D taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@jadeoru @yessimo @lale-txt @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @sugacor3

@quikhs @todorokiskitten @mollyrolls @honeyfewr @pookiebearcave

@phoenix-eclipses @madiexuberant @kameyyy @cr4yolaas @asrichin

@bakugouswh0r3 @bakingcuriosity @zazathezaer

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive (Daily updates!)

By Adam Piore

A new study from researchers at Mass General Brigham suggests racial disparities and the difficulty in diagnosing the condition may be leading to a massive undercount.

Almost one in four Americans may be suffering from long COVID, a rate more than three times higher than the most common number cited by federal officials, a team led by Boston area researchers suggests in a new scientific paper.

The peer-reviewed study, led by scientists and clinicians from Mass General Brigham, drew immediate skepticism from some long COVID researchers, who suggested their numbers were “unrealistically high.” But the study authors noted that the condition is notoriously difficult to diagnose and official counts also likely exclude populations who were hit hardest by the pandemic but face barriers in accessing healthcare.

“Long COVID is destined to be underrepresented, and patients are overlooked because it sits exactly under the health system’s blind spot,” said Hossein Estiri, head of AI Research at the Center for AI and Biomedical Informatics at Mass General Brigham and the paper’s senior author.

Though the pandemic hit hardest in communities of color where residents had high rates of preexisting conditions and many held service industry jobs that placed them at high risk of contracting the virus, the vast majority of those diagnosed with long COVID are white, non-Hispanic females who live in affluent communities and have greater access to healthcare, he said.

Moreover, many of the patients who receive a long COVID diagnosis concluded on their own that they have the condition and then persuaded their doctors to look into it, he said. As a result, the available statistics we have both underestimate the true number of patients suffering from the condition and skew it to a specific demographic.

“Not all people even know that their condition might be caused or exacerbated by COVID,” Estiri said. “So those who go and get a diagnosis represent a small proportion of the population.”

Diagnosis is complicated by the fact that long COVID can cause hundreds of different symptoms, many of which are difficult to describe or are easily dismissed, such as sleep problems, headaches or generalized pain, Estiri said. According to its formal definition, long COVID occurs after a COVID-19 infection, lasts for at least three months, affects one or more organ systems, and includes a broad range of symptoms such as crushing fatigue, pain, and a racing heart rate.

The US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention suggested that in 2022 roughly 6.9 percent of Americans had long COVID. But the algorithm developed by Estiri’s team estimated that 22.8 percent of those who’d tested positive for COVID-19 met the diagnostic criteria for long COVID in the 12 months that followed, even though the vast majority had not received an official diagnosis.

To calculate their number, Estiri’s team built a custom artificial intelligence tool to analyze data from the electronic health records of more than 295,000 patients served at four hospitals and 20 community health centers in Massachusetts. The AI program pulled out 85,000 people who had been diagnosed with COVID through June 2022, and then applied a pattern recognition algorithm to identify those that matched the criteria for long COVID in the 12 months that followed.

Some researchers questioned the paper’s conclusions. Dr. Eric Topol, author of the 2019 book “Deep Medicine: How Artificial Intelligence Can Make Healthcare Human Again,” said the medical field is still divided over precisely what constitutes long COVID, and that complicates efforts to program an accurate AI algorithm.

“Since we have difficulties with defining long Covid, using AI on electronic health records may not be a way to make the diagnosis accurately,” said Topol, who is executive vice president of Scripps Research in San Diego. “I’m uncertain about this report.”

Dr. Ziyad Al-Aly, chief of research and development at the VA St. Louis Health Care System, and an expert on long COVID, called the 22.8 percent figure unrealistically high and said the paper “grossly inflates” its prevalence.

“Their approach does not account for the fact that things happen without COVID (not everything that happens after COVID is attributable to COVID)— resulting in significant over-inflation of prevalence estimate,” he wrote via email.

Estiri said the research team took several measures to validate its AI algorithm, retroactively applying it to the charts of 800 people who had received a confirmed long COVID diagnosis from their doctor to see if it could predict the condition. The algorithm accurately diagnosed them more than three quarters of the time.

The algorithm scanned the records for patients who had a COVID diagnosis prior to July 2022, then looked for a constellation of symptoms that could not be explained by other conditions and lasted longer than two months. To refine the program, they conferred with clinicians and assigned different weights to different symptoms and conditions based on how often they are associated with long COVID, which made them more likely to be identified as potential sufferers.

Now that the initial paper has been published, the team is building a new algorithm that can be trained to detect the presence of long COVID in the medical records of patients without a confirmed COVID-19 diagnosis so the condition can be confirmed by clinicians and they can get the care they need, Estiri said.

But the most exciting part of the new research, Estiri said, is its potential to facilitate follow-up research and help refine and individualize treatment plans. In the months ahead, Estiri and his co-principal investigator Shawn Murphy, chief research information officer at Mass General Brigham, plan to ask a wide variety of questions by querying the medical records in their sample. Does vaccination make a patient more or less likely to develop the condition? How about treatment with Paxlovid? Do the symptoms patients develop differ based on those factors? What are the genomic characteristics of patients who are suffering from cardiovascular symptoms as opposed to those whose symptoms are associated with lung function or those who crash after exercising? Can they identify biomarkers in the bloodstream that could be used for diagnosis?

They have already prepared studies on vaccine efficacy, the effect of age as a risk factor, and whether the risk of long COVID increases with the fourth and fifth infection, Estiri said. “We were waiting for this paper to come out,” he said. “So now we can actually go ahead with the follow-up studies. With this cohort we can do things that no other study has been able to do, and I’m hoping it can really help people.”

Study link: www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S2666634024004070

[faebirdie]

i need people to be careful about what they are sharing about hurricane hilary because i'm seeing a lot of false information being spread. namely, i'm seeing a lot of people say that it's a level 4 hurricane. which is true. but they aren't mentioning the very important caveat that by the time it reaches california, it will have largely declined and will instead simply be a tropical storm. which is still historic for california, but it's not quite as scary for people living there as it's being made out to be. It's not going to cause major issues with infrastructure or large-scale flooding like a full-blown hurricane would. the majority of people will be, at most, mildly inconvenienced by it.

i think the response to this storm is showing a very clear difference in how we treat natural disasters that hit areas associated with wealthy white people as opposed to one's that hit larger populations of black people like lots of the southeast. it makes me fear for how funding and help might be given to california, which needs it less, and then not be available next time somewhere like georgia or louisiana really need it.

it also has the average californian so freaked out that they are taking resources and focus away from the people around them that actually might be seriously affected by this. so please, if you are in california, look out for the homeless and/or lower income people in your area. do what you can to make sure they have access to adequate shelter to protect them from the wind and rain. and that they have enough food and water to stay put until this storm passes.

also just stay off the roads as much as possible. people already drive like assholes around here and will probably be even worse during this. everything should have calmed down by tuesday at the latest.

[lemon-russ]

I lived, bitch. jk I am back and feeling much better after being run over by the metaphorical train of my failing body lol.

The poll has time but Wolf Mother is winning, it was good I asked because I thought it was one that people weren't super into, but I'm glad for it! It was a nice change of pace writing Leman again ❤️

Thanks @squishyowl for dividers! Taglist: @sleepyfan-blog @scriberye @undeaddream

Wolf Mother (Ch. 3)

<Prev. | Next>

Ao3 || Taglist request ||

Leman Russ x Fem OC

CW: Trauma/ PTSD, Talk of missing limbs/ prosthetics/ bionics, General WH40k violence (playful fighting here), If I miss any let me know!!

Summary: Wren gets a tour of The Fang.

Word count: 2,932

Small note: previously I wrote Wren was in the Astra Millitarium. Obviously she can't be, we are in 30k. I corrected it in the first chapter to the Auxilia, which was my original intent, I just mixed up Imperial Guard and Imperial Army. Fixed now :)

Wren scrambles behind Leman as he makes his way through the tunnels of The Fang. ”So, Paper-thrall, what use will you be exactly?” Leman asks, inquisitive Space Wolves eyeing her as they pass.

Wren frowns a bit as she is leered at like a new chew toy, but the wolves seem to be curious and nothing more. “Well, for Lord Guilliman, I’ve been handling things like logistics paperwork, transfers, budget approval forms…” she says, trying to keep pace with his long strides.

Russ scoffs. “Busywork. Leave it to Roboute to have a form for every bolt round that changes hands.” He chuckles, leading her to a rickety lift. The platform never stops its slow movement, just suspended standing decks going up on one side and down on the other perpetually down a rock hewn shaft. She nervously hops on behind him and they are lowered down the dark hole down a few floors.

Russ disembarks the lift at one of the openings, and when he sees Wren not keeping up, he reaches back and picks her up by the scruff of her coat and plops her next to him. She blinks, a little confused, but just blushes as she returns to chasing after him.

“Having clear and concise forms and regulations keeps things moving,” she stammers as she catches up to him again. “Without it, how would we know when to order more supplies? Or who is where and who is available-”

“You just tell someone.” Russ chuckles. “My sons tell me we are almost out of rounds when they see we are low, and they tell me where they are going. All the paperwork causes is headaches for little thralls.” He says, smiling down at her in amusement.

Wren’s mouth twists down. “That sounds like anarchy.” She replies flatly.

“Hah!” The primarch barks a laugh, “Anarchy, or freedom from your tedium? We get things done just the same.” He gestures through an archway. “Come, I will show you around the main areas of the Aett. It is vast and complex for little baselines, so try not to get lost.”

Leman leads her through what feels like miles of caverns. Wren’s legs and lungs ache from having to jog after him. While she was a little out of shape since she’s been on desk duties, she still kept up on her fitness as any good ultramarine employee would. But Russ was tall, taller than Guilliman, his brisk walk and long legs outruns her jogging. He doesn’t slow for her, just expecting her to keep pace.

As he shows her various store rooms and barrack areas, she pulls out a notebook and starts noting things that she’ll need to start organizing. No inventory sign-outs in the storerooms, no regular counts on supplies, things tossed into mixed crates and shoved on shelves. She was going to need to commandeer a small army of serfs to get this place in working order. She stops and grimaces when they pass the bathing and laundry areas. Piles of dirty clothes lay haphazardly around washing pools where tired serfs scrub them by hand over stone with lye soaps. She notes to ask to import at least some rudimentary cleaning machines like wringers and wash tubs.

Everywhere they go she sees the same things, unorganized supplies with serfs working with incredibly low tech tools that make things take ages to finish. Which makes them not have time to organize and clean as much, so the mess piles and piles. Wren starts laying out the overhauls she would need to make to get things moving efficiently.

Leman peeks over her shoulder at her notes, making her jump with a start.

“Inventory lists? Washing Barrels? Rotating thrall schedules? Skíthof little paper-thrall, you worry about such minor things.” He chuckles, ruffling her hair.

She frowns and lets out a huff from her nose, pushing her hair back in place. “Minor things build up, My Lord. All the time wasted with having to search for supplies and wash clothes by hand make up hours and hours of wasted time, and more wasted time means more Serfs needed to run the place, which means more food and housing for them.” She says tiredly, closing her notebook with a snap.

He tilts his head, standing upright again. “So? We have plenty of food for the thralls, we are good hunters, and we have many miles of caves for them to live.” He shrugs. “Why not have many of them live here and not bother with the teeny details?”

Wren scrunched her brow and sighed. “Because it’s, well, inefficient. And messy…” But Russ was already walking ahead, ignoring her again.

He stops at a large archway, and she smells bread and meat wafting invitingly through the halls. Her stomach grumbles, she hasn’t eaten since getting on the thunderhawk this morning. Leman smirks at her, then nods at the archway. “Come, little paper-thrall. We don’t let let our pack go hungry.”

They head into the warm, bright hall, full of space wolves talking and laughing and eating. The sweet, acrid smell of Mjød mixes with the warm bread aroma, and a large crackling hearth serves as backdrop to an Astartes telling an animated story to a group of space wolves and baselines alike, who enthusiastically cheer and laugh at his tale.

Wren sighs and happily takes the seat next to Leman at a long table, her hand going to knead at her thigh above her bionic leg. Though her bionic moves it’s own weight, she still needed to use her real muscle to lift it. She hasn’t had to push it so much yet, and her quad thrums sorely.

Russ watches her hand massaging her leg thoughtfully, but is interrupted from whatever he was about to say when a couple of Space wolves sit across from them, grinning and giddily staring down Wren.

“See-” The blond one says and elbows his brother, “I told you, The Wolf King has a new pet.”

His redheaded brother tilts his head curiously at her, then leans over the table and sniffs at her, making her shrink back with a frown.

“She smells odd.” He huffs.

Wren furrowed her brow at that, sniffing her own shirt. Leman laughs though, “She is not my pet, she is my paper-thrall.” He proclaims. ”Assistant.” She adds with a sigh. “I’m his assistant.”

The wolves tilt their head at her again, then smile wide. They are young enough to not have fangs yet, and playfully move to sit next to her, making her pull back into herself as she’s suddenly dwarfed by the massive marines.

“You smell odd.” The blond one says happily. The red haired one who sniffed her first does so again.

“Yes, you smell like Ultramarines.” He adds. He gently tugs on the sleeve of her poofy coat. “And you wear their inferior clothes. Do you not have furs?”

“My coat is fine-” she starts, but the red haired blood claw interrupts.

“Ah, has no one killed for you yet? Is that why you have to wear silly clothes?” ”My clothes are not si-” she squeaks out, trying to crowbar her words between them uselessly.

“She must not!” The blond replies, “Would you like me to kill a Great Bear for you?” He asks excitedly. Wren could almost see his metaphorical tail wagging.

“No no- I will get you a much nicer pelt than Thorarr would, let me.” The Redhead interjects, grinning ear to ear.

The blond, Thorarr, scowls at his brother. “Myrnir, I would slay a far greater bear than you. You only attack small, weak bears that are easy kills.” He gruffs as he crosses his arms.

Myrnir scowls back. “How would you know! You have not seen me hunt-” his brother rebuked.

“I have see the sad pelt you presented that thrall girl who polishes your armor, it is no wonder she rejected you.” He retorted.

Suddenly they are on their feet, growling and snapping words at each other, Wren forgotten. She blinks a few times, disoriented for a moment at the sudden shift. The blood claws argue and shove at each other, Russ, however just chuckles. “The youngest of my sons have less restraint.” He tells her as he reaches across the table to a wooden tray of breads, handing her a large roll. “Their attention is fleet and their tempers hot. They will outgrow it after a few decades of battle.”

The blood claws start grappling at each other, and an older wolf throws a large mug at them, conking the redhead in the back of the head. “Take it to the fight grounds before you break another table!” He scolds the pair. Myrnir grumbles, rubbing his skull where the tankard hit him, and they both stalk out of the hall.

Wren chuckles to herself, “They are certainly spirited.” She says, taking a bite of the roll. It’s grainy and hearty, and she wonders when the last time she had anything that tasted so much like real food was. It feels like it’d been a decade at least since her meals didn’t come from a package.

Leman rumbles a low chuckle in his chest. “That’s why they go first in battle. To get them trained, to let out their energy, and so they don’t clip anyone else on the way in.” He says with a smile. He glances back at her hand, still kneading her thigh. “I’m sure you were similar in your new years as a soldier?” He asks a bit softer.

She smiles and chuckles softly. “I suppose I was. I had a bad habit of going after much bigger opponents.” She says nostalgically. Her early days in the Auxilia were full of feats of glory and adrenaline. She sometimes thinks back and wonders how she managed to make it so long without ending up paste under an Orks boot, but her ferocity was what helped her climb the ranks so fast.

Russ grins and nods to her leg. “That how you lost it? Bit off more than you could chew?” He asks curiously.

Her smile falters a bit. “No.” She says quickly, turning back to the table and picking at her roll. The primarch deflates a little, huffing softly. He watches her nibble at her bread, then smiles again, perking up. “I have somewhere good to show you next.” He says happily.

He leads her up a few more terrifying lifts and through more dank tunnels before they get to a large complex of wide rooms. She could hear growling and barking and big padded feet stomping before they got there, and the distinct but not entirely unpleasant smell of wolves gave her an idea where they were before they actually entered the kennels.

Massive Fenrisian wolves play, sleep in piles, and gnaw on bones the size of Wren, spread out across what was mostly left as natural cave formation rooms. One was coming in from a large tunnel that seemed to climb upwards outside, shaking off snow from its stark black coat. Another two roll in a play fight together, their white fur making them look like an avalanche. Dozens of them lounge and play, drinking water from a small natural stream through the rocks and napping on beds of dirt.

As they get closer, Wren’s steps start to falter. These weren’t just wolves. The smallest was, as she could begin to see, the size of two men. The larger black ones, some were the size of artillery vehicles.

“By the throne…” She mumbles in awe, feet refusing to bring her closer to the massive predators. Leman looks over his shoulder at her standing, jaw agape, and laughs. “Come, little paper-thrall, they will not harm you. Not these ones at least. These are our pack members, they fight beside us and lend us their speed and strength.”

As he speaks, the two largest wolves, one black and one white, perk up and thunder over to them, paws thudding against stone enough to feel the vibrations through the ground where she stood. Wren recoils back a few steps, but the wolves stop at Leman, licking his face and pawing at him as he laughs cheerfully.

He turns back to her and motions her forward. “Come! These are my kin, my brothers, I was raised with them by the same wolf mother. This is Freki, and this Geri. They my companions.” He introduces, rubbing their ears as they wag their tails and lick at him.

The two beasts are massive, taller than any space marine, coming up to Leman’s chest at their head. Wren swallows hard. “Uhm- h-hello, Lord Russ’s… brothers…” she says warily.

The black wolf, Freki, radars his ears toward her voice, staring her down with eyes that almost glow with reflection from the dim torch lights of the halls. He pads over to her, and she cringes down a little as his massive nose sniffs at her face.

He tilts his head and pads around her in a circle as Geri comes over and gives her a snuffles at her too. She grimaces at their warm breath assaulting her face, before Freki licks the side of her head in a long motion, making her squeak in surprise. Geri wags his tail and licks her too, making giggle as shes suddenly attacked by their affections, tails wagging happily as she devolved into breathless laughing.

“O-okay-! please-!” She gasps through her giggles, and Leman, grinning and laughing softly calls them off of her.

“Enough of that, give her a second to breathe.” He tells the wolves as they happily trot to him and nuzzle him with their snouts. He grins at the disheveled, slobbered Wren as she tries to still her laughter. “See? My wolf-kin are friends.”

She tried to wipe her face with her hands, making a soft blehch at the slobber. “They certainly are personable, sir.” She chuckles. She uses the clean stream water to rinse her face off and returns to Leman’s side when he motions for her to.

“I want you to see some of our pack.” He says, softer now. She follows his gaze to two playing wolves. They growl and play bite at each other's legs, tumbling and snarfing and wagging their tails. But one of the wolves has the advantage- a shiny, metallic limb replaces his back leg.

Wren raises her brow, looking up at Russ. “You… You give the wolves Bionics?” She asks quietly, looking around and spotting a bionic eye, a front leg, a missing ear….

“Of course.” He says, smiling down at her with a gentler expression. “They are our pack, and we care for them the same we would any who suffer an injury.”

Her gaze falls back to the playing canines. The wolf without bionics is playing just as roughly with its kin as the others are playing, snapping teeth and body checks and leg bites. The bionic using wolf returns it in full, even using the leg to it’s advantage - its friend doesn’t like to bite the metal, so it uses that one to kick at the other wolf.

Across the cavern, she sees another wolf with a bionic front leg. This one limps slightly, and still has stitches and shaved areas from whatever injury it had. It flops down, licking and chewing at the place where the metal limb meets flesh.

Habitually, Wren’s hand went to that spot where her own leg met her thigh, massaging the muscles there.

She has to swallow back some emotion, watching the juxtaposition of the hobbling, recovering animal licking its sore phantom limb, and the lively, playing wolf who is well accustomed to his own.

Leman glances down at her, seeing her a little misty eyed, and frowns. Following her gaze, then watching her knead at her leg, he smiles understandingly.

“They bounce back.” He says as he kneels on one knee to be more level with her. She glances to him at her side before returning to watching the canines.

“They have a period of readjustment.” He continues, nodding to the limping wolf. “They need time to heal, and relearn their senses. And I think also, to grieve.” He says in a low, careful voice, watching her face as she bit her lip. “It is not an easy thing, losing something so life altering.”

He points at the happy, playing wolf. “But they do come back, with encouragement. That one has had about a year with his new body, and now you could hardly tell. Sometimes he itches at it, or favors the leg a tad. But he is him again.” Leman says softly. “And the survivors, they come back even more driven. I think getting that second chance pushes them.”

It takes a lot of effort to swallow down her emotions this time, eyes wetting threateningly. She grips the knee of her pants on her bionic side. The primarch gives a small smile down at her. “How long have you had yours, little paper-thrall?”

She takes a steadying breath. “About… About a year. Year and a half.” She rasps quietly.

Leman gives her a firm pat on her back, making her have to stumble and balance herself. She looks up at him in surprised, brow knit in confusion.

“About time you get back to it then, right, little paper-thrall?” He says with a warm, fanged smile.

[klbwriting]

Surface Tension

Chapter 8: Shot at the Night

Fandom: Aquaman

Pairing: Ormxfemale!Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Orm can't do much to help Y/N but he does find someone who can

Note: song is 'Shot at the Night' by the Killers

Taglist: @hyperagitatedcydonian13 @gabrieleskywalker @philiasoul @duchcess

We’re breaking all the rules To find that our home Has long been outgrown Throw me a lifeline Cause honey I’ve got nothing to lose Once in a lifetime

“Why did you settle by the ocean if you’re so afraid of water?” Orm asked, sitting on the back porch with Y/N, watching the waves under the moonlight. She was strumming, singing one of her songs. He was starting to recognize them by now and he knew she sang this one because he liked it. She looked at him and shrugged.

“I used to love the water, felt free and happy in it,” she said. “I told you I was accused of something that I didn’t do. I do bare some responsibility for it though, even though it was an accident. Ever since then, I don’t want to go back into the water, but I can’t let myself forget that day. Part of me wonders if it was my fault.” She stopped strumming and set the guitar aside, wrapping a blanket around herself.

“Did you want someone to get hurt?” he asked. She shook her head. “Not your fault, you shouldn’t stay here feeling guilty. What I did…I wanted to hurt people, all of the pain I caused was because I was angry. You didn’t have that malice.” He looked at the water before looking down at his hands. She reached out and put her hand on his arm, instantly calming him.

“Do you remember feeling like that?” she asked. “Do you ever feel like that now?” He shook his head. “Have you tried to make things right?”

“Yes, I’m trying,” he whispered. She smiled at him and squeezed his arm.

“You’ll get there, let the guilt go, but keep becoming better. I’ll help you, we are better together,” she said.

Orm startled awake, the memory fading from his dream to his waking nightmare. He didn’t know when he had fallen asleep, sometime right before dawn. Last he remembered his mother and Arthur were still there making plans on finding some kind of proof of who tried to kill Orm. The footage was enough to clear Y/N of active treason, but she still could be held for conspiracy. Conspiracy to commit treason was a capital offense in Atlantis and she could still be executed if they didn’t find and get a confession from the culprit.

He was alone now with a note from Arthur that they had left to find proof in Atlantis. Arthur planned to talk to Hendrix and Atlanna was going to talk to Y/N. Orm went over to Y/N’s place. He hated to invade her privacy but maybe she had something. He started searching, trying to ignore that her bed was still unmade from where they had been together, her same clothes from her birthday on the floor around it.

“There has to be something,” he muttered to himself as he went through her closet. He moved some boxes out of the bottom and saw a small door, probably another small storage area behind the wall. He was able to pry it open and inside was a bag. He pulled it out and sat on the floor, looking through it slowly. He pulled out the mosaic of her and her father. It was cheap but well made, a product of the lower city where technology to film wasn’t as widely available. He set it aside carefully. Next came out a flyer for Atlantis for All, listing their goals as equal status, better living conditions, and fairness in the workforce. Orm remembered his father telling him that all those below the nobility were lazy, they just wanted people to hand them money and food without doing anything for it. At the time he had agreed, but this notice listed things that anyone would need to survive and thrive, which is what he thought his father wanted for all Atlantians. He set it aside also and pulled out a stack of papers. This was what he needed, letters to and from different people in AfA.

I work from morning until night, I never see my family, yet they still starve…

My mother died because we couldn’t get her a proper doctor, the nobility never have to worry…

My father died of the sickness King Orvax released when I was a child. King Orvax made me an orphan…

We can fix this. There is a way. King Orm’s coronation is on the first day of the Great Migration…

Here is what he needed. He read through the letter, it laid out a plan to protest, nothing else. They were to have Y/N sing, and Hendrix volunteered to bring the cracker. This was almost enough, but Orm needed something else. Aria was mentioned as one of the leaders of the group. He had to find her; she might have more proof.

Orm wasn’t sure where else to go so he went to the café. It was empty except for Y/N’s friends when he arrived. They were all glaring at him. When he walked in Dean came up and punched him in the face. It didn’t hurt, but Orm wasn’t expecting it and stumbled back a step. Dean was shaking his hand, wincing. He had probably broken a couple fingers. Aria pushed past him.

“Get out tyrant,” she demanded. Orm stood his ground. “We know you did something to her, no one can find her.”

“I didn’t do anything, but Hendrix took her back to Atlantis to face trial for treason,” he said. Aria froze.

“You’re lying, you gave her up,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

“If I gave her up I would be on my way to trial too. I’m a fugitive just as much as the two of you,” he said. “We need proof that Hendrix was the one who tried to kill me. I found a letter in her things with the plan for the coronation day, it says Hendrix was to get the cracker, but we need more than that, anything that makes it sound like he alone planned the attempt.” Aria was breathing deep, trying to remain calm.

“How do we know you won’t just take the evidence and destroy it?” Vincent called out. “What if you want to use her to get yourself pardoned?” Orm didn’t have time for this bullshit.

“Because I love her!” he yelled. “Because she is everything to me and I won’t stand by while they execute her. I can’t go back, no one will believe me if I say she is innocent, I’ll just get thrown in a cell next to her, but my brother is king. If I am able to get proof to him he can set this right.”

Aria watched his speech and nodded before motioning for him to come with her. She lived only a few houses down from the café and she also had a bag full of letters. She kept meticulous records and correspondence, including from Hendrix. Hours later she jumped up.

“I found something,” she said, setting the letter down in front of Orm at her kitchen table. By then everyone had joined them, watching. “This is from Hendrix, the day before the coronation. I think I received it by mistake. I never read it because well, I hated Hendrix and anything he had to say was worthless to me.” She pointed to a spot that clearly incriminated him.

“These people are idiots. They’re going to give me the crown and not even realize it. Tomorrow Orm will be dead and I’ll be king,” Orm read. This was perfect.

“Bless that asshole’s giant ego,” muttered Amanda from the couch. Orm stood and hugged Aria.

“I know you hate me but thank you,” he said. He looked between her and Dean. “I am sorry for the tidal wave, for everything. I was wrong and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for it.” He left it at that, hurrying out of the house and calling Arthur to tell him he had proof.

[heian-era-housewife]

Hello all!

Recovery, diagnosis, and continued health journey below the break.

TLDR: Stage 4 endometriosis, still waiting on results for the heart condition, tired, sore, overall am going to be okay 👍 I do, however, hate being the owner of a uterus.

Most importantly, thanks everyone for the love, support, and well wishes! Glad to be back! It will be slow. Don't expect too much, but I do still plan to play catch up on Kinktober, even if it goes into November a little bit.

Trigger warnings: blood, mental health, mention of sex, gender identity, generally just Yuri whining 😅

I'm not sure where to begin. When I imagined writing this comeback post, pre-surgery I thought it would be all smiles and sunshine. I knew there would be pain, but I thought the worst of it would be behind me. Currently, I feel like I'm sitting toward the bottom of what may be a very long uphill struggle.

While my surgery went smoothly, the care I received around the surgery was eye opening. We waited for hours on end both before and after the surgery to get answers, to get help, to use the bathroom or be offered water.

Sometime before I woke up I had apparently been given some disposable underwear and a pad because I was bleeding pretty heavily. When I was finally able to use the restroom, I discovered that the pad had been placed cotton-side down with the adhesive side facing my body. The sticky part was still covered with the backing (thankfully), but this had caused blood to run everywhere including down my legs where I could not reach, as I was unable to bend. The only person available to help me at the time was a man whose bedside manner was less than desirable, so I just lived with the blood stains.

This was just one of many instances where it felt like I was almost being punished for having the reproductive organs that I do. And frankly, that has been my experience my entire life as someone who menstruates, who has had difficulty with menstruation, and who has had near constant pain and problems in that area.

Ultimately, I was diagnosed with stage 4 endometriosis. I know very little about this condition and by the time I had woken up from surgery, the surgical staff had gone home. There was no one willing to answer questions and I have since been told I will need to wait two weeks until my follow up appointment to speak with the doctor and get details. Until then, I am left with my own research. From what it seems, there is no cure and very minimal that can be done for treatment of symptoms. My discharge notes make mention of heavy scarring on my ovaries from recurring cysts, which are sure to continue. The endometrial tissue can also appear on or effect other parts of the body as they had in this past instance where tissue was present around my intestines. It can grow on lungs and even the brain, though these cases are extremely rare.

It's hard not to feel discouraged right now. I thought this surgery would be a huge step forward toward feeling better, but it feels more like a tiny drop in a bucket of larger issues and possibly more surgeries and complications to come. Not only this, but I am enraged both by the absolutely abysmal healthcare system here in the U.S. but by the treatment of and complete lack of empathy for those who have vaginas, uteruses, who experience menstruation or pregnancy and any number of complications from these things. I've said it before and I'll say it again, "women's" healthcare is a JOKE, but this goes beyond women. If I, a cisgender female, am experiencing such a lack of care and empathy, I can only imagine how any person with these organs who doesn't fit the stereotypical image or definition gets treated. I hate it.

Anyhoo...

Recovery is expected to take about two weeks. No sex for six weeks (for real this time)

Still waiting on results from my heart monitor.

Wanting to tackle mental health after squaring away what I can of physical health.

Depression and anxiety is now worse than ever. Doing my best not to slither into my little hermit hole and hide from it all.

Writing helps. Drawing helps. The love and care from amazing people on this silly little site helps.

And of course, there is Hubs, who deserves a standing ovation for the incredible job he has done caring for me, advocating for me, and reminding me every day that truly good people do still exist 🩷

If you've read this far, please go get yourself a cookie or something 🍪 and thank you, truly, for being part of this little journey with me 💕

[y-rhywbeth2]

Lore: Life in Faerûn, Part 1

Disclaimer & Other Stuff [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

Abeir-Toril Why it's called the "Forgotten" Realms History | Time & Festivals | Lexicon [1] [2]| Languages | Living in Faerûn [1] [?] | Notable Organisations | Magic | Baldurs Gate | Waterdeep | The Underdark | Geography and Human Cultures ---[WIP]

---

Demihumans in common society (ie human society); common is not a daily language; the postal service; some stuff about gender, gender roles and body modification in the Realms; social strata... Plus some details about other things - most of which will be built on in other posts.

Also featuring; what to do with your leisure time in the realms: like literature, theatre, cafés, where to go clubbing aaand the festhalls.

Education: church school, rich idiots at academies, bardic colleges, etc.

And how good medicine is on Toril, if you can't find a spellcaster to heal you. Baths are both mandatory and freely available, we shall have no unwashed peasants in this setting.

-----

Humans are the dominant peoples of the Realms, and the vast majority of cultures one will find oneself in are human cultures. Nine-in-ten people are human, with the one remainder being one of any of the eight non-humans (some of whom are more commonly encountered than others).

Most of what is said here refers to human lands and cultures (which is 99% of the world anyway), and non-human cultures I'll cover in their own write ups.

Humans mostly know the other "common" races - elves, dwarves, halflings and gnomes, whom they call "demihumans" or "humanoids" - as trade partners or as neighbours belonging to minority groups within their home cities.

Demihumans are mostly accepted as fellow citizens within human lands, although the elves are often viewed with mistrust due to the stereotype that they are fickle fey creatures who get uppity when you start tearing down nature and building your cities in their lands. This tolerance is not extended to people who are categorised as monsters, including the Underdark races, tieflings and "goblinkin" - a category that includes orcs, goblins, bugbears and so forth. Half-orcs usually find themselves being sorted into this category, and most have to deal with a lot of respectability politics in order to be accepted into their human family's lands. Elves and dwarves also share this hostility towards orcs, and have a long history of wars with them.

The hin (halflings, to non-hin) and gnomes who find themselves living in human cities are accepted by being seen as useful in the eyes of the Big Folk. Both are known as being useful as couriers, tinkers and repairmen, and for running laundromats. Gnomes in particular are the chief inventors and innovators of the realms, and due to their tendency to be quiet and helpful they are heavily overlooked by others.

Dragonborn are a rare sight, but have mostly built a reputation of respect.

Most humans do not know much about non-human cultures, knowing them only through story, rumour and whatever personal experience they have. Stereotypes are often taken at face value, and being more used to the likes of lightfoot halflings and silver elves, the average person would probably be quite surprised by the different cultural attitudes and colder receptions they'd get from, say, ghostwise halflings or gold elves.

Outside of cosmopolitan areas, where your neighbour can punch you in the face for stupid comments, humans feel no particular pressure to be respectful to demihumans and foreigners, and would roll their eyes at what their Earth equivalents would call "political correctness" if you told them off.

On the nonhumans' end, humans are watched with concern, as they do tend to cause their fair share of disasters that rapidly become everyone's problem.

Many of the people of Faerûn move around a lot; religious pilgrims, traders, immigrants and those bloody adventurers transcend the boundaries of culture and country on a daily basis. For this reason, the Common tongue was invented.

People do not use Common as a daily language, though certain terms may enter daily speech as loanwords. Common is a pidgin trade tongue that grew out of Old Chondathan and Alzhedo (mostly the former), the language spoken in Central and Western Faerûn. It's a simple language, easy to learn and spread around, and useful for exchanging basic information with people from other lands who don't share a language with you - but it's useless for daily life. While it has a written form, most people can't read or write in it.

-

Maps are rare, and if you want an accurate map you'll usually find it in the possession of local rulers and temples (which supply the Realms with most of their scribes and such). Each realm has a book of maps (atlas) available for the use of their military and other officials.

-

If you want to send a package or letter in the Realms, temples often double as a post office. The delivery will be sent from temple to temple until it reaches its destination and will be delivered to the addressee,

-

Most of the Realms does not consider men or women to be inherently lesser or greater than the other and all genders are equal under all laws, though they do have traditional gender roles that it's believed most are better suited for - or at least areas where one gender is more represented than the other. Women dominate in trade and domestic areas, while men dominate in war and crafting, however it isn't considered immoral or unthinkable to see somebody defying the gender norm. If your daughter picks up a sword, learns to use it and runs away to fight dragons your primary concerns are less "oh no, a girl is fighting" and far more likely about the threat to her life and who in the hells is going to help you run the family store now if she has no siblings? Gender roles can be looser or more rigid, depending on where in the Realms you go. Some realms may be Patriarchal or Matriarchal, but it's not the rule and some of these places have grown more egalitarian over time.

Organisations do not generally discriminate in any way based on gender when it comes to their members.

The term for transgender in the Common tongue is sildur. (Elven: Alur, Dwarvish: Thulol, Gnome: Thoulal, Hin: Zalshaer) Transmutation magic is the primary form of body modification and transitioning on Toril, although apparently most people will turn towards divine magic before trusting a wizard to do it. Mages are expensive to hire and viewed with some measure of fear by the common person.

You can petition the gods at their temples for body modifications in return for sufficient offerings, if you don't trust wizards. Be that "I want to be blond" or "I don't want these breasts." Exactly how much and what the god is going to expect in exchange for this varies on the faith of the petitioner and the past relationship between them and the god. Naturally, certain gods are favoured above others for this kind of thing. You're more likely to petition Sune (love and beauty) or Liira (joy and freedom) than the likes of Bane and Shar. ---

Faerûn has its social classes, defined by wealth and family lineage, but they do not have true feudal or caste systems, or any system where upwards social mobility is totally impossible (though the upper classes will certainly do their best to prevent that. (Hi, Waterdeep, I'll give you your own post)). Any commoner could theoretically gain a noble title to the distress of the hereditary nobility. In Sembia if you have enough coin, you can just give yourself a title and everyone has to shut up and go along with it, because money. And that's how most of them got theirs anyway.

Slavery is illegal in all of Faerûn with the exception of Dambrath, Thay, Mulhorand and Unther. The slave trade still exists underground elsewhere, and is quietly overlooked in some places, but it is considered evil by the world at large and somebody found to be a slaver will be met with violent reprisal.

Nobles are... well, nobles. They're rich and have powerful friends and the law is far nicer to them than to the lower classes. They're mostly corrupt and constantly scheming against each other. Their kids go through rebellious stages and do drugs and cause chaos for the commoners and join weird cults.

Landownership outside of kingdoms and such with codified property law generally follows the rules that you can do what you like with whatever land you hold; charge rent, put up signs, make the rules... but you own it only by the tolerance of your neighbours. If they don't like the way you do things, you're quickly going to find yourself in trouble. Also led to my one of my new favourite quotes:

“If you set up an inn and then murder everyone who stops there and keep their goods, even if that’s morally acceptable to you as a devout follower of Bane or of Cyric, it will not be suffered to stand."

Yes! Screw you, edgelord!

Crime and punishment varies depending on where you are, but carries fun stuff like fines, brandings, prison labour, floggings, stockades and executions. I think the concept of the law, "justice" and court proceedings will be left for another post where I will passive aggressively judge a young Astarion and his corrupt magistrate ways.

-

Leisure:

Literature: Literacy is a hit and a miss in the Realms. Some people prize literacy, and it's common enough that broadsheets and newspapers are in business and PCs can read and write by default; but there are still others who can't and couldn't care less if they can't read some bard's chicken scratch. The ruling class in particular gets a little nervous about the idea of a fully literate populace, since that would allow them to be educated, and better suited to communicate with each other and get ideas. That bit varies though. Cormyr, for example. has encouraged its population to learn to read and get educated for several reasons including making it harder for the country to be infiltrated by enemy spies.

Chapbooks are serially published cheap little paperback things. They contain all sorts of things, like children's tales, donated recipes, political opinions, random bits of advice from people on trades and such, gossip from other countries disguised as news, memoirs, and smut. The rating of that last bit varies in rating. In Waterdeep they favour romantic stories over sex and over in Amn they're just flat out publishing porn about the goddesses of love and sensuality, Sune and Sharess - with the full support and encouragement of their churches.

The most popular genre of actual novels is the personal travel logs of explorers and other wanderers. The Realms are flooded with such books.

There are also non-fiction books available. Philosophy (which is written through the lens of religion, as a rule); books on rulership (controlled by the noble class, sometimes outlawed); and on business (which are subject to attempted control by the likes of merchant guilds)

Book printing is a sketchy business. Authors may one day discover that there are whole new best selling reprints of their books they've never been informed of (or paid for). Plagiarism is also a common problem.

Theatre: Aside from actual theatres, there are a few ways to catch a play.

Traveling caravans are known to sport a few actors, who can make a bit of extra money for the group by putting on a performance as well as advertising the stock their caravan carries (product placement everywhere). Most bards have the "classic" scenes of famous plays memories, so as to perform them on demand.

Theatres often hire doppelgangers, as their shapeshifting ability is very useful in realistically portraying monstrous characters too dangerous to actually hire. Of course there's also this little issue where your doppelganger hirelings may start killing people outside of work hours, but eh. The show must go on.

There are also puppet shows like Punch-and-Judy called Oldboots - because the shows are actually done by wearing worn old boots on your hands instead of actual puppets.

Establishments: Alehouses - Pubs and bars, existing primarily for those looking for an alcoholic beverage. The term "barkeeper" is unknown to Torilians, who would refer to them as tavernmasters. The word "mug" and "pint" also do not exist. Inns and Alehouses don't have menus, you're eating whatever's being cooked.

Dining-house or Feasthall - Known to us as a restaurant. Establishments are also known by the Chondathan word skaethar which is used as a formal term in Common in other parts of the world. In larger inns, one might find a section of the building that acts as a dining-house. Most of the time the menu is a chalk board on the wall, informing customers what's fresh. The really fancy ones, visited by the rich (or those who want to seem so) get paper menus printed by machine or made with fancy calligraphy.

Kaeth house - A café. Coffee is known in the Realms as kaeth or kaethae - or "fireswill", colloquially. The drink is rare and expensive northwards of Calimshan, but is available in large cosmopolitan trade cities, as far North as Waterdeep. Calishite coffee is taken black with nuts and spices like ginger. Sembian and Chessentan styles of coffee are often mixed with chocolate and liqueur. In lands where coffee is widely known, they tend to have their own drinking utensils and customs around it, but in the north it's just served in tankards. Hot chocolate is also on the menu. Teas exist, but are less popular and are seen as a medicinal drinks.

Temples of Liira - The goddess of joy and revelry charges her followers with hosting parties and making everyone they meet is having fun and feeling happy. As such, going to her temples is kind of like going clubbing. The main hall of the temple is a dance hall, with other rooms branching off to include lounges and a well-stocked bar. Liirans also offer dance lessons.

Temples of Sune - As devotees of the goddess of beauty, Sunites are obligated to give you a makeover if you ask, so this is a good destination for a haircut, pedicure or fashion consultation or whatever. As Sune is also the goddess of love, Sunites can also be asked for matchmaking services. The church also sponsors schools and classes teaching all forms of art (including music, song, performance arts, etc).

Festhalls - Try not to confuse these with feasthalls, or you're going to have an embarrassing time. Ah Festhalls, where to start. They're spaces considered outside of society; everyone leaves their real life, identity, social rank and all of that outside and comes here to just let go for a few hours. Festhalls will provide you with a warm bed for the night; they'll wash, mend and dry your clothes; they have hot baths and spa services; you can dance to music, or just lounge around enjoying a good drink and some company; it's also something of a casino, where you can play cards and gamble or even just play normal board games or something... And they're strip clubs, BDSM scenes and specialty brothels! You got a kink none of the brothels can scratch? Festhalls provide and cater to goddamn anything that turns you on, so long as it's legal, safe, sane and consensual.

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Education: What counts as an education varies from place to place and depends on what the realm desires of its public. Some places will emphasise the commoners knowing the basics of military drills, the chain of command and such in case of the need for a levy. Other places, like trade centres such as Waterdeep, prioritise maths and literacy.

In most of the Realms - especially in rural areas, a basic informal tutoring involves teaching basic maths, local laws and customs and some basic knowledge of the alphabet and market/road signs.

Most schooling is done by priests, which is free to the public. Unless you're dealing with the sketchier gods or the ones with deeper mysteries, all clergy are also happy to teach everything about their faith when asked. While some may obscure less savoury details, no follower of any god will outright lie about the details of their faith, as that is considered a sin.

If you're not rich you can get a basic education by hiring "low sages" - the likes of book shop owners, hedge mages, retired adventurers and other people with access to information who can share with you what they know. Of course, what they know may not be the most accurate information in the world.

You can also purchase some basic short paperback school books.

Most trades guilds will provide a basic education in that trade in exchange for a coin or two. Although some of this will simply just be "don't do this at home, hire a professional." They also hold classes open to the public now and then.

Schools as educational organisations also exist and are usually founded by bards or monastic orders in large cities. Most schools and academies are simply a handful of ageing, well educated people with a house who provide lessons for enrolled children there - though larger establishments exist.

For nobles there are Academies, which will also teach their children social etiquette and other things the upper class needs to worry over lest their reputation drop so low it falls into the Lower Planes and dies in the River Styx. Sometimes these Academies are actually just social clubs for young rich idiots to get drunk, do drugs and have orgies in, but that's not so common and gets shut down when it does happen.

While the rich and powerful have the opportunity to send their darlings to Academies, they'd rather not. It's... embarrassing. It means you can't afford a private tutor (or that your darling is a brat with a personality that suggests they're a demon spawned in the Abyss).

Bards are usually trained at Bardic Colleges - these vary in quality and specialty (some may be better for certain instruments, for example). The only requirements for entry are that one passes an audition, impressing their interviewers enough that they are taken on.

Civic information is typically freely available to anyone who asks for it, and courtiers and scribes are obligated to share the information.

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Medicine: Medicine is primarily the practice of demihumans, who've been around for much longer than humans and had more practice. They also tend to hold the market, finding a place for themselves in human lands by offering their services as physicians and herbalists.

Faerûnians have an almost Earth-level awareness of human anatomy; the organs and their function, the function of blood and the cardiovascular system as well as the risks of shock and infections are common knowledge. While the concept of microbes and spread of disease is unknown, the importance of hygiene in staying healthy is known, and there are establishments that offer baths and laundry services to travellers and homeless people. The filthy unwashed peasant is not a thing on Toril. Plagues are not as disastrous as they were in Earth history - most households and communities will avoid being totally wiped out, but they are terrible and mysterious things and the afflicted are avoided.

Medicines as we know them - called "physics" - are expensive and hard to get ahold of, and most people rely on herb lore or priests like clerics and druids. Herbal anaesthetics are widely used. Cauterisation is a common practice, and many people have scars from it.

Most trade towns have apothecaries, be they part of a shrine or a business.

Physicians are often in conflict with divine spellcasters, since they're competing over the same market.

Some diseases are known by different names in the Realms: Windchill fever - Pneumonia Sallar - Typhus Whitewasting - Leprosy Foamjaws - Rabies And a heart attack is known as a heartstop.