#job market dynamics

[ranjith11]

Quality Control for offshore staff | Future Accounts Proof

Welcome to an enlightening journey into the world of offshore excellence! In this video, we unravel the significant role of quality control for offshore staff in shaping a thriving future. With a keen focus on future accounts proof, we delve into strategies and insights that pave the way for seamless offshore operations. Join us as we explore how quality control acts as the linchpin in harnessing success and efficiency among offshore teams. Discover the core tenets that empower offshore staff to be future-ready and deliver exceptional outcomes in the dynamic landscape of tomorrow.

[chompe-diem]

just started eldermourne and aaaaaaahh i love it sm honestly i love the vibe it has it mustve been a bit tough for the crew to try and get away from c1 at the time but truly it quickly established itself to have its own energy, which i adore

[inkskinned]

which is fine, because love is love, and you're getting gay-married, so it would be kind of ironic if love was only sometimes love.

except The King Of Demons (his is Edmund) is always late, to everything, always. which is fair, because time doesn't work in hell, and it's not like he can just catch a bus. except that you specifically asked him not to do this, didn't you, because he's always doing things like this.

He splays out his hands, the light catching on long, ivory claw tips. god, doesn't he know not to wear white to a wedding?

so many people are screaming right now.

it's not that he's the golden child. you guys had normal parents, middle-class. your mom was kind of an "almond mom," according to your fiancée, who pursed their lips when they found out about how your mom used to wrinkle her nose any time you asked for an extra snack in your lunchbox.

you close your eyes for a moment. think of your beautiful almost-spouse. ashe. their name like a bloom inside you. how the dress looks on ashe's body, their shy little smile. how they'd walked down the aisle, and you'd both been half-laughing, half-crying. your hands had trembled when you saw them. like the whole world was pouring down your throat, golden. like you were catching a moment and casting it in amber.

ashe'd been the one to help you when your parents were pushing for you to invite edmund. god, the amount of fights you'd gotten in with your parents - the same six sentiments, over and over again.

you'd been sitting on your bed, biting your lip, your fingers hovering over the little button send. ashe'd nuzzled your neck. you used to be close, and i think that's important. but you know your relationship to him the most. i'm willing to make the effort, and i love you no matter what you choose, they'd said. we don't have to if you don't want to, though, no matter what your parents say about him.

you'd thrown yourself down, supine, arm over the eyes. he's just... we are just.... you tried to phrase that-which-is-love-and-rage.

you're the normal twin. your "big thing" was only "being a lesbian." in high school, edmund started being able to make birds die by looking at them. you came home, trying to tell your parents i kissed a girl. i think i'm - and they just kind of nodded at you. edmund was eating the bible in front of them, like a goat.

on the bed, you'd held your hands out vaguely to ashe. edmund is a just always a lot.

ashe had shrugged. don't invite him then. and it was that - that they were okay with either of your decisions - that is why he even got an invite, in the end.

and now here he is, like how you wanted (?), and your hands are red, clenched hard around your bouquet. the officiant is crying. some people are on their knees, praying. some are trying to touch your brother, like he could impart a blessing.

"i made it!" he's triumphant. "i know i'm late, i'm sorry, there was - do you know anything about right-wing politicians?"

"i'm going to fucking kill him," you say, although you're not actually sure who you're talking to, or if he can be killed.

ashe is blinking, their face in a tiny oh of surprise. you take their hand, drop their hand, take their hand again. they blink at your brother. their voice is low but steady. "there's, um. is there a dark halo around him?"

you duck your head to meet their eyes. "fuck, ashe. i'm sorry. he wasn't supposed to -"

"did i miss it?" Edmund is swinging his head around far-too-wide. his 2 sets of horns leave little red mist any time they scour through the air. "I didn't miss the kiss, right?"

the town clerk is in the audience, and she's frowning. you send her an apologetic look. she shakes her head. "as we've discussed," she manages to throw her gentle voice over the din, "the wedding isn't official if someone objects. that is the legal statute. which people tend to be understanding of." she sends a dirty look to edmund, and that makes you love her. she seems completely calm, which makes sense, because she works in the town hall, and this probably isn't even her first demon-showing-up-at-a-wedding.

he somehow hears her, holds his hands up. "i'm not objecting!" the back of the event hall catches on fire. of-fucking-course. "i'm not - don't mind me, uh, please continue." edmund sends a look to the back-of-the-room fire and it whimpers and gutters out. he flashes you a winning smile, and then puts his hand to his king's-garb chest and mouths sorry! and then cartwheels his glittering talons to say go ahead.

"i think i'm going to throw up." the officiant's voice is barely a whisper.

you watch in horror as edmund tries to awkwardly slide into a waiting line of chairs. the sound of begging follows him, people on their knees at hell's king. he pats a few of them on the head, holding up his finger in a sheepish shh! while his touch leaves a bleeding rune on their skin. his hooves click, and his footprints leave ruby-bright fireroses in his wake.

he tries to sit down, but the wooden chairs are made for people and not the lord king of demons, so he has to span his furred hindquarters over two seats. he smiles again, offers you a little wave.

the room is dead silent, minus the weeping. you look back to ashe. you ruined this. you shouldn't have invited him. you spent so much money on this event, and ashe looks so fucking handsome, and you haven't even gotten to kiss them. to make it official.

ashe looks up at you, manages a little smile. "could be worse?"

you feel yourself start to smile too, but then edmund's chairs give out, and he falls directly on the floor, and with his startled yelp, everything around him bursts into the cold whip-crease of hellflame, disintegrating everything that isn't-a-person, including the flowers and the decorations and the cake and the tables. everything you saved for months to be able to afford. the venue that you both agonized over choosing. you picked this place because it was significant to both of you and was equidistant from both your parents and had a deal with the local hotel for people coming out of town. two years of planning, literally burning down around your ears.

edmund manages to stop the fire pretty much immediately, but it's too late. the officiant faints clear away. the town clerk gives you a sympathetic look and mouths see you soon and steps neatly out of the room, taking ashe's parents with her, chatting gently. an arched flower frame collapses into dust with a loud whoomp. pretty much nobody is left in the building, and you're standing at the top of the steps, at the fucking hour of your marriage, and there is nothing left but blue-cold embers, the lights blown out in favor of the eerie hellfire glow.

you sit down, hard. after a few seconds, you feel ashe sit down next to you. you put your head between your knees so you don't puke with rage, which would be somehow more humiliating than everything else happening at the moment.

"okay, it's definitely too soon," they whisper in your ear, "but i have to admit there is something that's going to be so funny later about my name being ashe and my wedding going up in flames." they wrap their hand in yours. "i can't believe we worried about candles. we should have just gone with them instead of worrying about safety. are you okay?"

you send them a look. "am i - am i okay? this absolute bitch -" you gesture with your free hand out to where edmund is trying to piece together the cinders of his chair, "ruined my fucking wedding."

your mom is standing awkwardly in what used to be the "family" row of chairs. your father is absent, of course. she makes a noise at you. "don't call your brother a bitch."

"oh my fucking god." you have to put your head between your knees again, fighting that stupid fucking rage-puke urge. your blood pressure has obviously reached "skyrocket".

"he's here, isn't he? you're not being particularly grateful," your mother says, because of course she does.

"oh my god! ohmygod. ohmygod." you feel yourself hyperventilating, and then you start laughing, and you hate the hyena hysteria of it, the way it pitches dangerously close to a sob. "this is just - this is just like you! this is the fucking - you blow out the candles on the birthday cake! you curse the kids i'm trying to babysit! you get straight-A's on every test without studying, and get all the friends, and everyone is obsessed with you! and then when i graduate from art school, do i fucking get a party? nope! but hey, let's throw edmund a party for his 300,000th tortured soul! and his 300,001st! and fucking everything else. and fuck me, i guess! edmund gets hurt on the playground, let's burn down the playground. i got fucking bullied, and our parents don't even notice. i am fucking struggling, but we need to pay attention to edmund. he gets fucking everything. while we're at it, why don't we let him fucking ruin my wedding!"

you are dimly aware of ashe wrapping one arm around you and then the other, and then you are sobbing into their shoulder.

"oh, come on. stop with the hysterics," your mother chides you. "you had a perfectly fine childhood. all kids fight. you should have gotten the ceremony done faster. and you know i didn't approve of you spending all this money when you have student loans to -"

"respectfully," ashe's voice is cold and cutting while they rub circles on your shaking back, "and i know you're about to be my mother-in-law, but -" you hear them force a smile, "maybe you could choose this moment to leave your daughter the fuck alone?"

you are so fucking in love with ashe at that moment that it stops your weeping like you got hit by a truck. you look up at them, and want to go back to crying, just overwhelmed by the sheer fucking amount you care about them, but then you look over at your mother, and her shocked expression, and you burst out laughing.

your mother makes a few almost fish-like motions with her mouth, and then turns on her heel, stomping over cinders on her way out. and then it is just you and ashe and edmund and how you are half-crying half-laughing quietly to yourself, like a tap that won't stop dripping.

edmund has put the chair down. he is staring at his hands. he is at least 500 pounds and over 7 feet tall (he doesn't use metric, he's the devil). and somehow, right now, he just looks... small. crestfallen.

"yeah, i mean." his voice cracks. there's no boom of thunder or hellhound echo. he sounds like he did as a kid, before the strange powers and the levitating and the souls of the damned. he sounds like he did the night he accidentally melted most of the pieces in your first glass art show. he sounds - like your brother. he puts the heel of his palm against his eye. "i ruined my sister's wedding."

ashe offers him a little half-grin. "i do just want to say i love the aesthetic, by the way. but you did very much ruin my wedding too."

he points at them, finger-guns. "....ruined their wedding too." something in the attempt at humor - how his voice breaks on the words, how lonely he sounds. it makes you have to close your eyes against the sound. "....you seem cool," he says. "it's... it was nice to meet you."

you hear him come over, his hooves clacking slowly on the floor. when you open your eyes, he's sitting closer to you.

he opens his hand. inside are two little ceramic figures. wedding cake toppers. "i... i made them for you two. i figured i would try - how you make art, without magic. i... i took a class, and i made - i made them." he looks down at the little white-dressed people in his wide, calloused palm. "it's... i wanted to be ... good. i..." he looks at you, and then at ashe. "i tried, you know?"

ashe reaches up, lets him roll the figures into their palm.

he stands up. folds his hands in front of himself. "i don't. know how to be good. i know it doesn't come naturally to you, either. i saw you... choose. to be kind. you could have treated me different, too. like everybody? i was weird, and everyone knew. if you'd been ... mean? it would have been okay. but you." he shrugs. "one time you tried to kill me in the bathroom."

you don't know why you're crying. you look up at him through the cracks between your fingers. "twice," you croak. "but the second time i had a knife." you tuck your hair behind your ears. "but that was only after you pushed me down the stairs at grandma's and i broke my leg before a dance performance. you fuckin' deserved that one."

"i pushed you because you were being a wretched bitch."

"hey now," ashe says, a little edge to their voice, "that's my wife."

you squeeze their hand. "no, he's right. i had deleted his pokemon gold save file right before the elite four."

ashe drops your hand like you scalded them, showing the only horror you've seen this whole time. "you - girl, what the fuck?"

you shrug a little. "i was being a wretched bitch. and he did break my leg about it."

edmund shifts a little. "i just - you are...." his voice dies.

in your family, you don't say i love you. in your family, you don't touch each other or show affection. in your family, you just show up for each other, quietly. neither of you knows how to speak or process what needs to be said. you can see that lacking flashing over his face, literally playing out in shades of crimson. you get that weird twin-sense of something unsaid.

ashe sets the little ceramic people to the side. "she treated you like a person when everyone else treated you like a prophet."

you cut your eyes to them, and then edmund, who gives you one very short, sharp nod. "i, uh. i can. never try." he clears his throat. "i can never try hard enough. for that. i can - what you gave me. by. doing that. by ... just. i made. one thousand. wedding toppers. so it could be perfect. because - i ... it needed to be perfect." he appears to be dying of embarrassment, which does imply he might be capable of dying. oh good. in case i need to try to kill him a third time.

the thought makes a weird, wet laugh bubble out of you. "remember that one time i failed my math test and you set mr. fog's car on fire about it?"

edmund looks shyly at you, and a very small grin spreads across his face. not the dark lord - just a 30-something year old man who has just upset his one-and-only twin.

"you're throwing us the most ostentatious, egregiously expensive wedding," you tell him. "above land."

he frowns a little. "okay, but i'm not doing anything in miami. the vibes there give me the heebie jeebies."

ashe holds up their hand. "and you'll be repaying the deposit on literally everything. oh, and replacing the cake."

you kiss their cheek and then point to him. "and you'll be on time for it."

he shrugs a little. "okay, i literally can't perform miracles, so like. set the bar lower. i can't promise i'll-"

you look down at your feet. "i'd like you to be my man of honor this time. like. by my side. so. you can't be late this time. okay? we do it the right way. finally."

"huh," ashe says, looking between the two of you. "you guys have the same smile."

edmund's grin becomes a little wider, a little easier. he raises an eyebrow at them. "okay, i get that you're cool, but you're like, very cool about this whole thing."

ashe lifts a shoulder. "used to work for the monster under the bed."

"oh shit, simon? fuck." he points to them. "remind me not to mess around with you."

you want to tell edmund i love you and i missed you, but you can't. instead, you pick up the figurines. they're not perfect, but you can tell hours of his life went into each. his hands are so big - it must have taken him so much work to make these things so small. you picture him with his back bent over a workbench, trying to get a face into a tiny clay figure. the ceramic version of you is smiling. he's given you little fangs and a unibrow. he gave ashe a tiny yellow crown. you make the two figures kiss.

snow is falling indoors, little icicles of hellfire. ashe reaches out and take edmund's hand, and then, very awkwardly, he reaches out and takes yours too.

for a moment, it's just the three of you, and the beautiful quiet of the room.

You’re standing at the altar, about to get married to your beautiful fiancée. When suddenly the king of demons bursts through the door of the room, which naturally causes panic. You tried to warn everyone that inviting your sibling to the wedding would mean trouble, but they kept insisting.

[jcmarchi]

How Do Different Generations View Artificial Intelligence?

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/how-do-different-generations-view-artificial-intelligence/

How Do Different Generations View Artificial Intelligence?

AI affects everyone today. Because it’s so prevalent, people will have strong feelings about it, both positive and negative. Understanding these views is important when determining where AI could go from here and how businesses should approach it. Of course, opinions on AI vary between demographics.

Some of the most notable discrepancies exist between different age groups. As you might expect, younger generations who’ve grown up with more digital technology tend to see AI differently than those who’ve grown up without it. Here’s a closer look at these generational differences and what they say about AI.

How Baby Boomers View AI

Start with the oldest of the four major generations today — Baby Boomers. These are people born between the mid-1940s and mid-60s, placing them roughly in the ages of 60 to 80 today.

According to a survey by research firm Barna, Boomers are by far the most hesitant of any generation to embrace AI. Just 7% say they’re excited about this technology, with 49% saying they’re skeptical and 45% saying they outright don’t trust it.

This skepticism is easy to understand, as older adults are the most vulnerable to online scams of any demographic and came into adulthood before widespread internet use. All that’s to say Boomers are less likely to trust any new technology. Even if they don’t have personal experience of its downsides, they also have less experience in its positives.

Unsurprisingly, Boomers are also the least likely to use AI. Just 20% say they use it at least weekly and more than half don’t use it at all. However, more than a third agree AI will change their everyday lives. While they may not like the technology, they can see its potential, for better or worse.

How Gen X Views AI

Gen X — the generation born between the mid-60s and early 80s — is similarly doubtful about AI. In the Barna survey, 35% said they’re skeptical about it and 25% said they don’t trust it. Still, Gen Xers are far more likely than Boomers to use this technology. More than a third say they use it either “sometimes” or “often.”

Interestingly, Gen Xers report more neutral stances on AI’s future effects than other generations. In a different poll, 35% said they’re unsure if AI would positively or negatively impact their line of work — more than both Millennials and Boomers. Similarly, they had the largest share of people saying they didn’t know whether AI would put jobs at risk.

While they may not know how AI will impact their lives, Gen Xers are more certain that it will in one way or another. More than half agreed it’d change their everyday lives — 15 percentage points higher than Boomers and almost as many as Gen Z.

How Millennials View AI

Millennials are the first generation to spend most of their working lives with the internet and other digital technologies. This demographic — born between the 80s and mid-90s — reflects that tech-savviness in their views on AI.

More Millennials say they use AI at least weekly more than any other generation — a whopping 43% do. Part of that comes from using it more at work than anyone else, with more than two-thirds utilizing it at their jobs. Similarly, Millennials were more likely than anyone else to agree AI will change their everyday life.

This high usage also comes with more enthusiasm for AI. Almost a quarter of Millennials say they’re excited about it — more than any other generation. Similarly, in a MITRE-Harris study, 62% of Millennials said they’re more excited about the potential benefits of AI than they are worried about its risks.

That enthusiasm doesn’t mean Millennials don’t have any reservations, though. Despite having the highest share of people excited about AI, the number of Millennials saying they’re skeptical of it still outnumbers the enthusiasts. More than 80% also believe regulations are necessary to protect consumers from AI’s potential risks.

How Gen Z Views AI

Gen Z — born around the late 90s or later — is the most connected generation. Roughly 25% of Gen Zers had a smartphone before they were 10 and all of them grew up with the internet. As you might expect from that, they fall close to their fellow digital natives in how they view AI.

While fewer Gen Zers said they were excited about AI than Millennials, fewer of them are also skeptical of it. Usage trends follow a similar pattern. Fewer Gen Zers use AI at work than Millennials, but more use it in their personal lives than other generations.

Interestingly, while Gen Z has the lowest share of people saying they’re skeptical of or don’t trust AI, they pass other generations in more specific fears. In the MITRE-Harris survey, 62% of Gen Zers said they’re concerned about AI replacing them at work. Half of them also report feeling an urgency to integrate AI into their daily lives.

What Do These Views Say About AI as a Whole?

These generational differences reveal some interesting trends in AI perceptions. Most prominently, while more AI exposure goes hand in hand with more excitement about the technology, it doesn’t eliminate it entirely.

Millennials and Gen Z use AI far more often than Boomers and Gen X, both in work and in their personal lives. Even so, more than half of the people in these two generations still worry about its impact on jobs. Both age groups tend to agree AI’s benefits outweigh its risks, but not by a wide margin.

Everyone, regardless of age, seems to have at least a few concerns about AI’s potential negative effects. More familiarity does assuage some of these fears, so as AI becomes more common, older generations may come around to the technology more. Still, AI companies should address these concerns head-on, as even the most tech-native generations have them.

At some point, familiarity with AI may make it lose some of its luster, too. Gen Zers — who use AI in their personal lives the most — have the least extreme perspectives on it one way or another. They’re not as excited about it as Millennials but not as skeptical of it as Boomers or Gen X. That could reflect AI already reaching a point of normalcy — as it currently exists, at least.

How people perceive AI in the workplace may change before long, considering Gen Z will account for 30% of the workforce by 2030. Team members tomorrow may not see it as much of a novelty, which will either mean higher productivity or less engagement with these tools.

Views on AI Vary Widely

Overall, people across all generations are a bit worried about AI but agree it will change their lives one way or another. Specific feelings beyond these larger trends vary widely between age groups. AI companies may want to keep that in mind when marketing their technology to different demographics.

AI’s potential inspires excitement in some and fear in others. In particular groups, there’s a mix of both. Understanding these dynamics and accounting for all sides of AI’s impression on different people are key to holding productive conversations on the technology in the future.

[jaisaxenaa]

Why Investing in Gold Makes Sense

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[sidsinning]

Apothecary Diaries is pog as fuck bc serious political issues and dynamics from a woman's POV are rarely depicted in ANY form of media

It's always a man's world where women's issues surround him. Even if we get a female perspective once in awhile- it all comes back to how it facilitates his game in the end. She's a footnote in the overarching scheme of things. Misogyny exists. Back to the real plot.

Apothecary Diaries is strictly from a female perspective and how each class of woman has to act, what limits they have, what rights they have and don't have between each class, etc. These women have to behave a certain way under a patriarchy, which you would think makes it a man's story, but it never is. The women are THE focus of this show, their struggles are THE plot. The focus is about how the patriarch effects them.

Take the concubines for example. The show dives into how bearing a child affects their rank, how traumatizing it is to lose that child, the consequences of that, etc. We have barely seen the emperor who sired all these kids because this is not about him.

Jinshi's personal plot is secondary to Mao Mao's journey- he is mostly there to provide new cases for Mao Mao to solve and to learn more about the shortcomings of his class when taking care of citizens like Mao Mao.

Jinshi is not a bad person, but by virtue of his position in the higher classes, he cannot understand how harsh life as a poor WOMAN is specifically- he can only catch glimpses of it from what Mao Mao tells him and feel outrage but powerless in his wealth and luxury

Mao Mao is a fortunate commoner woman for what privileges someone in her class should and shouldn't have. She happened to be adopted by a knowledgeable man. She is allowed to read, write, learn, and has enough skill to be a poison tester and have a job EXTREMELY out of her class limit as an apothecary, also a job not traditionally meant for women

Mao Mao is not a "noT lIkE oThER gIrLs" protagonist, she is FOR THE GIRLIES. She only wants to help the women around her, and women are whom she has the closest relationships to. She sees a woman being harassed and can't let it stand. She sees a frail, traumatized woman dying from the recklessness of those who should be caring for her and spends day and night nursing her back to health, while also punishing the people who were so careless with her needs.

My girl has STUDIED UP on THE BODY to TEACH these upper class ladies on how to really HEAT things up in the BEDROOM

Sex depicted in Apothecary Diaries is both something women are not shamed to be enjoying, while at the same time being acknowledged as an unfortunately huge economic necessity to market themselves.

Like shit is just so real in this series???

Listen, I can go on and on about how GOATED the series and especially Mao Mao is but you get the picture

[deathandnonexistentialdread]

@delicatebeauties this makes sense

Kant becoming a car thief because of Style's infodumping about car parts and their values. Kant stealing cars but still treating them with care because Style taught him the basics of dealing with cars.

Style looking after Babe when Kant ends up arrested. Kant asking Style why he is not angry with him. Kant and Style still maintaining their friendship and closeness despite everything.

The fact that Kant stole cars while having a mechanic bff and Kant being very open to Style about the Captain's dirt on him regarding the car thefts is very interesting.

[leeknow-thoughts]

୨୧ POMEGRANATE

𝝑𝝔 son of Hades!Chris x mortal!fem!reader

𝝑𝝔 cw : forced marriage, coercion, kidnapping, Hades is an asshole, Chris isn't an asshole, Soft!Dom!Chris, Sub!Reader, daddy kink, dd/lg, fingering (r. rec), innocence kink, oral (r. rec), spanking, oral fixation, inexperienced! reader, d/s dynamics, age play (not super extreme), p in v, creampie (use protection!!), pussy spanking, pet names, degrading kink, praise kink, bulge kink, lmk if I missed anything!!

𝝑𝝔 hyung line Greek gods m.list | maknae line Greek gods m.list

You were always too busy to think about having boyfriends and sex and things that were normal for women of your age. You never thought it was weird how you avoided romance, even in your teenage years. You thought romance was stupid, and it would just get in the way of your goals.

You busted your ass to graduate valedictorian in college, countless sleepless nights and study sessions is what your life consisted of for four whole years.

You reminisced about your hard work every single day that you worked this stupid low level job. You worked for the largest construction company in the country, Erebus Construction Enterprises. It was owned by one of the wealthiest families in the nation, the Bahngs, the oldest son of the family being the current CEO and his father being the head chairman of the company.

"Y/n," your coworker snaps you out of your trance, "hey, there you are, the team was going to go get drinks tonight? Do you wanna join?"

"No thanks," you reject, "I have a project I have to complete."

Your coworker gives you a look of sympathy before grabbing her coat and clocking out.

You refocus on your project as the desks next to you become empty, workers clocking out, hoping to enjoy their long weekend. Not you though, you still had to finish typing up a paper for the marketing team and make a slideshow for the next accounting meeting.

Hours passed by as you kept typing on your computer. "You know work hours ended-," a voice begins, you snap your head up to look at the man who said it, you find a man in an all black uniform staring at you, he checks his watch, "- five hours ago," the man finishes.

"I'm just finishing up a paper and a slideshow for a meeting we have next Tuesday," you explain to the man.

You take a moment to stretch, leaning back in your rolling chair. "Your name is?" the man asks.

"Y/n Y/l/n," you introduce yourself.

"Ah, just wanted to be sure," the man says.

It takes you a moment to register what he said and reply with, "wait what do you mean?"

"Follow me," he instructs.

When you don't follow after him he stops in his tracks, approaches you again and gives you a stern warning, "you should do what you're told, now come," he grabs your arm.

He drags you out into the hallway and the more you try to squirm and get away from him, the tighter his grip on your hand is. He pulls you into the elevator and presses one of the red buttons on the bottom.

You watch as the sign on the elevator changes from 'elevator' to 'hellevator'. "You might want to hold onto something," the man in black warns.

"Wha-" you begin.

Suddenly you're falling, well the elevator is falling. You scream as it plummets down. You don't know where it's taking you but your stomach sinks more every second you're falling.

Suddenly the elevator halts, and you have no time to brace yourself as you hit the floor. "Don't say I didn't warn you," the man chuckles lowly.

"What the fuck!" you scream, "what the fuck is this place!?"

"It's just hell, honey," he says the answer like it's obvious.

"What?" You look at him with shock and disbelief.

The elevator dings before the doors swing open, "don't go to the basement unless you want to meet Cerberus," the man gives a final warning before grabbing your purse and pulling out a quarter, "there that covers your fine," he hands me back my bag.

"My fine?" You question.

"You just crossed the River Styx, honey, I'm the ferryman," he says it like it's obvious.

You are given no warning before he pushes you out of the elevator, you try to run back inside, but the doors close before you can. You slide against the wall and cry.

You were in hell?

But why?

Ferryman? Cerberus? Like in Greek mythology, the spirit who helps the dead cross the River Styx, and the giant three-headed dog?

Your head fell into your hands and you tried to make sense of the whole situation. A tap on your shoulder causes you to look up, "please- just let me go home!" you plead through a sob.

The woman in front of you holds out her hand for you to take, when you don't take it she grabs your hand and pulls you with her.

She pulls you into a large dining room, the table is set with a collection of magnificent foods, there are four seats, none of them are full.

All of the windows are covered with curtains and the only light source in the room comes from the many candles scattered around the room.

The woman pulls you to one of the seats, and makes you sit down on the leather surface. "Who are you? Let me go!" you try and push the woman off you.

"Tch tch tch, silly girl," a deep voice scolds, "she's dead, she can't speak."

You look to find where the voice comes from, you find the man who spoke standing in a doorway. He wore a simple back suit with perfectly polished leather shoes and a clean haircut.

"Servant," he calls to the woman holding your wrist, "go fetch Chris and Persephone."

The woman bows to the man and lets go of your wrist before leaving out the door she brought you through. "Y/n Y/l/n," he says your name.

He crosses the space from the doorway to the seat directly in front of the one you were sat in. "Who-what are you?" you stutter.

"Well you could call me the devil, but I am not nearly as evil as him," he looks at you like you should know this like it is obvious and you should've known all along, "did the Ferryman not explain to you where you were?" he asks as he takes off the black blazer, placing it on the back of his chair.

"He just said we crossed the River Styx," you recall to the man.

"I see, still-," he pauses and opens a bottle of what looks like red wine before pouring it into one of the wine glasses, "you're a very intelligent young lady, I assume you realized where you were on your own."

"Why am I here?" I ask the man.

"Well it's a really long story, it started off with my nephew, he was given a message for me by these three old hags- that are referred to as the Fates. So being the messenger God and all, my nephew- Hermes- brought their letter to me," he takes a sip of the win before he continues, "imagine my surprise when that letter tells me the name of my eldest son's fated wife, and it turns out being your name. One of the new accounting hires," he man cocks his head.

"Y-you know me?" you mutter.

He hears you clearly though, "I know of every soul to exist, yes I know of you."

"W-why is this happening?" you inquire.

The man sighs, "like I said, you're fated to marry my oldest son," he replies.

"I-I c-can't be," you choke out, trying not to sob.

"Well unfortunately for you, you are," the man says dryly.

"S-so you're the devil?" I ask.

The man smirks, "Hades actually, Satan works in Tartarus exclusively," he explains.

"Hello darling," a woman says from the doorway.

She is utterly stunning, a small frame and dark brown eyes with red rosy cheeks and plump lips. "Hello Persephone," the man-Hades-greets.

The woman walks to your seat and wraps her arms around you, "hello y/n," she says as she hugs you tenderly.

Your words are caught in the back of your throat, "P-persephone?" you somehow are able to mumble.

"That's me, dear," she breaks away from you and walks to the other side of the table, sliding into the seat next to Hades.

"Where's Chris?" Hades asks her.

"He's in one of his moods, you know he doesn't want to do this, darling," Persephone says softly.

Hades rolls his eyes and whistles, within a millisecond a large wolf with red eyes is sitting beside your chair, "go get Chris," Hades tells the ferocious looking dog.

The dog trots away, out the doorway. "Oh, y/n dear, help yourself to the food," Persephone says gently.

You look at the meal prepared on the table in front of you. "B-but I d-don't want to have to stay here like you do," you confess to the woman.

"Don't worry about that dear, besides that whole myth is just a lie, Hades didn't force me to live down here," Persephone calmly corrected.

"Yeah, but he coerced you, I read the story, you were kidnapped by him and Zeus and they brought you down here and you accidentally ate a pomegranate and now you have to stay down here for 3 months every year," you clear your throat then continue, "and those 3 months are known as winter because your mother, Demeter, won't tend to the crops, that's why they all die."

"You haven't the slightest idea of what truly happened," Persephone says firmly, "I chose to stay with Hades on my own volition, winter happens because my mother takes a break during those three months. And Hades and his brother never kidnapped me."

Your mouth falls slightly agape as you listen to her.

"Oh," you say when she finishes talking.

"Yeah," she clears her throat.

"Dad, I told you," a voice comes from the doorway, you turn to look at the man, he was handsome, with dark hair and dark eyes, "I'm not doing this," he continues.

"You don't have a choice," Hades tells him, "now, sit."

The man reluctantly takes the seat next to you, and gives you a quick glance. "Y/n you really should eat," Persephone insists, "it's very good."

"Do you promise me that if I eat I won't be stuck here for forever," you ask her.

"You won't be stuck here forever," she promises.

You hesitantly reach across the table and grab a serving of the food, putting it on your plate and taking a small bite.

The food was delicious, the best you've had in your life. "It's good isn't it?" Persephone asks.

"The best," you compliment.

"Well, Chris, aren't you going to say anything to her?" Hades asks the man next to you.

"Yeah," he sighs, "I don't want to get married."

Hades' first slams onto the table, "Chris that is enough. You know your fate, she knows hers. There is not a choice in this matter," his voice booms.

Persephone gently rubs circles on Hades' shoulder, trying to calm him. "Y/n," she begins, "once dinner is over, you and Chris will be going back to his house, it's just a short boat ride away, if you would like anything you can write to Hephaestus," she explains.

"What about my apartment? And my job?" you ask.

"This is your home now," Hades says, rubbing his temple, "you can visit Earth anytime you like, but you must come back here before dark."

A clock on the wall chimes ten times, "well it is time for you two to go," Hades instructs Chris and you.

Chris sits up and looks at you before extending his hand for you to take. He senses your caution and smiles at you, trying to make you feel more calm.

"Go with him now, y/n, or else," Hades warns.

You hesitantly take his hand and he swiftly leads you out of the dining room and through the house, he opens the front door and steps out with you, the same man that brought you down here is standing on a boat that is floating in that is floating on a glowing surface.

Chris lifts you up onto the boat before climbing in himself. "Where to?" the ferryman asks.

"666 Hellside lane," Chris says to the man.

Chris pulls a coin out of his pocket and hands it to the man. The ferryman begins rowing the boat and you and Chris just stand in silence.

You take in the scenery, large pits of fire with people burning in them next to large pits with meadows and people running around happily. You look into the large pit of fire, seeing the pain and agony on the people's faces as they burn, you reach out for them, wanting to help but a firm grasp on your extended wrist stops you from being able to reach them. "Don't," Chris warns.

"They're suffering," you try to plead with him, pleading for people you don't even know.

"And for a good fucking reason, they lived evil lives," Chris explains.

"B-but they were still just people," you swallow the lump in your throat.

"Bad people," Chris reminds you, "the morals of your world don't always apply down here, but I know for a fact that all the souls in that burning pit deserve to be down there, burning."

You blink at the man, "is that where I'll go? Will you send me there?"

"Never," he replies immediately, "in no reality would I make you suffer like them."

"W-would your father s-send me there?" you ask with teary eyes at the thought.

Chris gently cups your face, "don't worry about my father, I won't let him hurt you."

You nod and Chris wipes a tear that had fallen with his thumb.

The boat stopped and Chris got off first, he lifted you up and helped you down off the boat afterwards. You looked up at the large house in front of you. Ornate and beautiful on the outside. Chris opened the front door and you walked in before he closed the door behind the two of you.

The living room was magnificent, high ceilings with stained glass windows, a large couch in the middle and a fireplace across from it. "Woah," you gawk.

After a moment of silence, Chris speaks, "your room is down there," he points down the hallway with one door at the end.

"My room?" you ask.

"Yeah," he says softly, "all yours," he smiles.

"B-but what about you?" you ask.

"My room is upstairs, it's the first room on the right," he informs.

"Oh," you say.

"Yeah, just make yourself comfortable and if there's anything you need, I'll just be in my room or in my office," he explains softly.

He starts to walk away, "wait!" you call to him, he turns around and looks at you, "my cats, Cookie a-and Oreo- they're still on Earth, I-I don't want them to be lonely or g-go hungry," you tell him.

"I'll go get them for you," he instantly replies.

"They can come down here?" you ask enthusiastically.

Chris walks to you and tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, "of course they can, I do have a dog though, but she's really friendly, her name is Berry, she's probably playing outside," he tells you, "I'll go and get your cats and bring them back here."

"O-okay, t-thank you," you thank him.

He smiles softly and leaves out the front door. You stand there for a moment, not knowing what to do with yourself, before you decide to check out your bedroom.

You open the door and look around, it looked similar to your bedroom back on Earth. You opened one of the doors in the room to see a huge walk in closet. Multiple floors tall and full of any types of clothes you could think of.

You open another door to see a whole on-suite bathroom. With a huge shower and a jacuzzi tub.

You walk back into the closet, looking for a pair of pajamas. You find a key pad with many buttons, you cautiously press the button that says 'sleepwear' and the closet starts to move around.

The many racks of clothing shuffle around for a moment before the sliding doors open, revealing all kinds of pajamas.

You opt for a blue matching silk pajama set, you slip the clothes on and decide to look around the house that was now yours. You opened one of the large doors that lead to a large grassy area that was fenced in with a metal gate. You take a seat on the back porch, close your eyes, and try to wrap your mind around the day you had.

You hear a dog bark beside you and you open your eyes to see a dog with three heads staring at you. Your first reaction is to scream, not used to the supernatural sight. But one of the dog's heads starts licking your face, making you burst into a fit of laughter.

You sit up and look at the small dog, you look at the large collar around it's neck and read the name. "Berry," you say the dog's name out loud.

The dog perks up and jumps into your lap, "hi, Berry," you coo, "aren't you gorgeous," you say as you pet her.

You sit with the three-headed dog until you hear the back door open, Chris leaning against the door frame carrying your two cats, one in each hand.

Berry rushes to Chris' side, her tail wagging a mile a minute.

You sit up and walk to Chris, gently taking your cat, Oreo, from his arms, give Oreo a kiss and gently pet him. "Thank you," you thank Chris again.

"Don't mention it," he smiles.

You step inside and Chris closes the door behind the two of you. You put Oreo down on the ground and Berry begins sniffing the black and white cat. You turn back to Chris and he hands you your Tortoiseshell cat, Cookie.

You kiss Cookie before you put her on the ground, Berry sniffing her now as well. "You really aren't like your dad," you figure, talking about Chris.

"I hope I'm not," he chuckles lowly, he brushes a strand of hair out of your face, "you should get some sleep," he suggests, "we can talk more in the morning okay?"

He walks you to your room, "wake me up if you ever need anything," he says softly.

You step into your room and Chris closes the door. You hear his footsteps as he walks away from the door.

You did try to sleep, you really did. But you found yourself tossing and turning on the large bed rather than sleeping.

You contemplate waking Chris up for a good ten minutes before deciding you would just watch something on the TV in the living room.

You sat up and walked into the living room, you sat on the large, black, leather couch and grabbed the remote, turning on the TV.

You flipped through channels until you settled on a random channel in a random language you couldn't understand.

"Y/n?" you hear Chris' voice.

You watch the man as he walks down a pair of stairs, rubbing his eyes, wearing nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants and a pair of red slippers.

"What're you doing up?" he asks softly.

"C-couldn't sleep," you explain quietly.

"O-oh," he hums, walking back up to his bedroom.

Eventually you passed out on the couch, waking up from a nightmare. It took you a moment to fully realize where you were, but you ruled out the fact that you just had a bad dream when you looked around the ornate living room, remembering all that had happened.

A knock on the door made you snap your head up. You hesitantly walk to the door, opening it to reveal Persephone along with a group of servants. "Oh, hello honey!" she muses before stepping into the house as if it was hers.

"W-what are you doing here?" you ask in the most polite way you can.

"Well it's your wedding day!" she announces like it's obvious.

"M-my wh-what?"

"Oh dear, don't play dumb! C'mon we need to get you fitted for a dress," she hums.

She drags you by your arm to your room before practically pulling your clothes off, only leaving you in your underwear. You try to cover yourself but she is swatting your hands away as the servants begin taking your measurements with measuring tapes. "Do you like the color black?" Persephone asks as a servant shows her different fabrics and colors.

"I-I-it's okay?"

"And do you like glitter?"

"N-not really."

"Dear," she scolds, "you should be serious about this, we have the Christian Dior working on this."

"Christian Dior?"

"Yes the owner and founder of Dior-"

"I know who Christian Dior is b-but why?"

"Well your wedding should be perfect!" she exclaims.

"Mom," Chris' voice comes from the door to your room.

"You're not supposed to see each other before the ceremony!" Persephone whines.

"I understand you're excited, but go easy on y/n m'kay? She is scared," he points out and looks at you.

"Oh, c'mon it's just marriage!"

"Mom," he says more firmly, "it's marriage."

"Oh fine," Persephone huffs, "y/n what are your favorite flowers by the way? My brother is going to make us some!"

"Felix is coming?" Chris asks.

"All of Olympus is coming!" Persephone cackles.

"Olympus!" you shriek, "I'm going to pass out!"

Chris lunges forward to support you and keep you standing while his mother and her servants are whispering and talking amongst themselves. "Here, let's get you in some clothes," Chris figures.

If you were naive you would think he's being kind, but honestly you don't know if you can afford to be naive at the moment.

Chris walks to the closet and grabs a pair of clothes and hands them to you. You swiftly pull them on before Persephone is grabbing your hand and pulling you into a seat. One of her servants pulling out a makeup bag and slapping a primer on your skin. "Chris!" An unfamiliar voice calls.

You turn your head to see a blonde boy with freckles standing in the doorway calling to your soon to be husband. "Felix, hey man," Chris says, embracing the man-Felix.

"Oh hey, you must be y/n! Nice to meet you! I'm Demeter's son! Gosh it is scorching down here!" he exclaims and fans himself with his hand.

"Well it's almost like it's hell," you retort.

"Well yeah, dear Zeus, Persephone how can you love someone so much to stay down here for as long as you do!" he exclaims.

"Well you know how much I love Hades," she chuckles to her brother.

You sit still as the servants begin styling your hair and applying your makeup.

"Is Zeus coming?" Chris asks.

"No! Silly! He is far too busy! But he's sending Hyunjin on his behalf," Persephone announces.

"Persephone, the dress is done!" one of the servants says.

"Oh lovely! Y/n look at this! Isn't it stunning!" Persephone calls and shows you the large black ballgown dress.

"Y-yeah, beautiful," you shrug as you feel tears welling up in your eyes.

"It's so beautiful she's crying isn't that sweet!" Persephone proclaims.

You feel so claustrophobic in the room, as you try to bite down your tears. "Mom," Chris starts, "she is crying because she doesn't want to do this."

"Christopher!" Persephone shouts, "she will deal with it! As will you! This is destiny!"

"You don't have to like your destiny!" Chris' voice booms.

You can't help but mentally compare him to his father, they yell the same way. Chris has a better temper but they both can hate the same way.

"Ok," Felix breaks the tension, "Seph why don't you go and get ready I'll watch over them."

Your eyes go wide as you watch Persephone leave the room in a huff. "Sorry you had to hear that y/n," Felix apologizes for his sister and his nephew, "they both have quite a temper."

You turn your head back and wait until the servants finished your makeup and hair.

Chris and Felix eventually left when it was time for you to put on the wedding dress, saying they'd meet you at the venue.

You slipped on the dress in silence and one of the servants tightened the corset on the back.

The boat ride to the venue was silent, only thanking the ferryman and handing him a silver coin when he dropped you off.

"Hi my dear," an old woman greets you at the gate of the garden you were dropped off at, "my name is Clotho, I'm one of the Fates, my sisters are busy today but they give you and Chris their blessing!"

"Please tell Lachesis to cut my time short, I don't want to do this," you plead to the old woman.

"Dear," she coughs, "you'll be immortal once you marry him, it's not like she can do anything."

"I would rather die," you comment.

"I shouldn't tell you your fate, but you do fall in love with him, may as well let it happen," she whispers to you.

Your eyes widen in shock and she holds your hand walking you down the aisle in the garden.

A piano playing a tune in the background as you walk down the aisle with the woman.

Chris is waiting at the end of the aisle and you see Hades standing at the center.

You cry as you stand up there and Hades pronounces you married. Not wanting this to be your fate.

"You may kiss the bride," Hades instructs Chris.

Chris rolls his eyes before gently cupping your face and bringing you in for a kiss that lasts only a second.

You sob on the boat ride back to your house, mascara running down your face. You run to your bedroom and cry into the pillows. Crying until you feel like throwing up.

You had been living in the same house as Chris for a few days, and you finally were able to sleep in your bed at night.

A knock on your door is what woke you up, you sat up and rubbed your eyes while the door creaked open, "y/n," Chris calls out to you.

"Mhm," you grunt sleepily.

"Hey, I got you a present," he explains.

You rise up out of bed and let Chris lead you to where the present is. He has you sit down on the couch and close your eyes and you feel a weight being put on your extended hands. "Okay, you can open your eyes now," Chris says.

You slowly open your eyes and look at the box in your hands, you look up at him before you open the pretty black box. You look at the ticket stubs for a moment, and read the text. Concert tickets, for your favorite band.

"D'you like them? I don't want this marriage as much as you, but I figured a wedding gift wouldn't hurt that much?" Chris asks.

"Like them? Chris-" the words are caught in your throat, "I love them," you smile.

"I-I got you two, that way you can go with one of your friends on earth," he grins.

"I- thank you," you thank him, you throw your arms around him in a warm embrace.

"Of course, y/n, anything to make you feel a bit better," he says dutifully.

Chris showed you over and over again that he would give you anything and everything your heart would desire.

From making a whole art studio in your shared house because you once mentioned that you liked painting during a dinner conversation.

To giving you a phone so you could talk to your friends who were on Earth.

There was no doubt, he cared for you. And you couldn't help but care for him as well.

"Guess who," you peek your head into Chris' office.

He was sitting at his desk with papers laid out over the surface.

"Hey, sweet girl," he hums when he sees you.

He motions you over and you obey, he taps his thigh for you to sit on, and you do. His arm rests on your waist, and you watch as he works. "What'cha doin?" you ask him.

"Finishing up some paperwork for the company," he explains, "did you need anything, honey?" he asks.

You shake your head, "no, jus' wanted to be close to you," you confess.

Chris cocks a brow, "yeah?" he coos gently.

You nod, "yeah, I like being around you."

A smile breaks out onto his face and he turns his full attention to you. "I like being around you too," he confesses.

Later that night you find yourself in your bed, staring up at the ceiling.

You felt hot all over as you thought about Chris, how caring he was, how handsome he was, how dominant he was.

You hadn't felt that way before, what were you supposed to do? That was the first night you felt the intense wanting for Chris. And it certainly wasn't your last.

Every night for the next week you'd think of Chris, you would feel tingly all over, to the point where it drove you crazy. You didn't know what to do with this feeling that was coming from your cunt.

You knock on the door to Chris' bedroom, you hear footsteps before Chris opens up the door, "honey, hey what's going on?" he asks when he sees the tears in your eyes, concern laced in his voice.

"I feel weird," you sniffle.

"Oh, sweet girl," he coos, he gently pulls you into his room and pulls you onto his chest, "tell me what's going on?" he requests.

"I just keep feeling weird, a-and I d-dunno what t'do," you confess.

"Feel weird where?" he inquires.

Your face goes red and you whisper to him, "my- y'know."

He looks at you for a moment before breaking out into a fit of laughter, you swat at him, "I'm being serious!" you whine.

"You haven't like-" he pauses, "masturbated before?"

You shake your head no, and watch as his face breaks out into a look of realization. You tuck your head into his chest as blush creeps onto your face. "Hey, shh, it's okay honey, don't be embarrassed," Chan reassures.

He tilts your chin up so you're looking at him, "whatever you want, I'll give it to you," he hums, his thumb gently caressing your chin.

"Daddy," the words leave your mouth before you can stop yourself.

Chris groans before pulling you in for a gentle kiss, he quickly pulls away before looking in your eyes again. He only looks at you momentarily before pulling you back in for another, more heated, kiss.

That night Chris watched as you touched yourself, gently talking you through the new feelings and watching as you writhed around on his bed from the pleasure.

You heard the front door open and sprung up from your place on the couch to see Chris walk inside. He had just gotten back from work. He looked exhausted from the day's activities. "Chri-" you begin but he cuts you off by crossing the space between the two of you and slamming his lips onto yours.

"Daddy-" you mumble against his lips.

"Hmm?" Chris hums.

"Wanna help you relax," you mutter.

"Just let me kiss you honey," he insists, "let me give you special kisses."

"Special kisses?"

"Yeah," he hums, he pulls your pants down without warning.

Staring at your cunt, he gently kisses your mound over your panties. "I'm the only one who can kiss you here, you understand?" he growls.

"Yes," you whine.

Chris pulls your panties to the side before placing a tender kiss on your clit.

You moan and your fingers run through his hair, "that's a good girl," Chris hums.

You feel two of his fingers press into your entrance and you squirm around due to the unfamiliar sensation. "Daddy," you whine.

Chris' plump lips keep sucking on your clit while one of his fingers pistons in and out of your cunt. One finger turns into two, two into three, until you're gushing all over his face without a chance to warn him.

"That's it," he coos, "such a sweet little pussy," he groans, fingering you through your orgasm.

He places a kiss above your mound before slapping your pussy. You jolt at the contact and watch as Chris sits up and pulls his pants down.

"Here you go honey, gonna give you a treat for being a good little girl for me," he muses.

He strokes his fat cock in front of you before lining it up at your soaking entrance. "Daddy-" you whine.

"Daddy's here, don't worry babydoll," he hums as he pushes into you.

You squirm around as you feel more and more of his cock enter you. "That's it, take it like the slut that you are," Chris spits.

The only thing leaving your mouth at this point is broken cries of Chris' title. Chris sets a menacingly fast pace, pounding into you with your legs thrown over his shoulders.

You feel as his hands run down your stomach, stopping on your lower tummy, "I can fucking feel myself inside you," Chris comments.

You move your hand down and feel the area where his cock is bulging in and out of you. "Oh my god!" you scream as you cum around him.

"That's it, atta girl," he praises, "let me fill you up, let daddy pump a baby into his sweet little girl."

"Yes," you whine, "f-fuck a baby into me w-wan' you t'fill me up please!" you beg.

Chris' movements become sporadic and you start to feel his hot cum seeping into you. He keeps fucking into you as he cums, making sure you take each last drop of his seed.

Honestly, hell wasn't even hotter than Christopher Bahng.

[genderkoolaid]

Over the years, I have observed that it’s easier for people to digest sex work when it’s done in a subversive way. Think of the way pro dommes are celebrated because their job is “to treat cis-men like shit”, or of the recent marketing trend around “ethical” porn. Yet, being a true ally means accepting sex work in all of its forms. If you find sex work praiseworthy when it’s queer and anticonformist, but you frown upon it when it’s done for the male gaze, I would like to invite you to examine your feeling as internalised whorephobia. What you praise is not what most sex work is like. The majority of sex work is not queer and it’s not anticonformist — the majority of sex work is focused on cis-men. It’s true that doing sex work for the male gaze mostly perpetuates social gender dynamics, but I would like to ask how damaging that really is if it’s done consciously and consensually. It’s a little bit like kink and domination: women who decide to be submissive in BDSM are replaying social gender dynamics, but they choose to do it for different reasons. I would apply the same line of thinking to sex work. If what we do in traditional sex work is consensual, it’s infantilising for people to call us out as pure objects of male desire without agency – that is objectifying us too. If you think that sex work is not feminist, that’s because the society we live in is not feminist. This discussion is too complex and nuanced to be tied to the black-and-white view “no male gaze equals empowerment” vs. “male gaze equals disempowerment.” Violence against sex workers is everywhere on this planet, and one of the factors (besides bad laws) that contribute to that is people seeing us as lesser humans, deserving of little or no respect. That makes us easy targets, the punching bags people can abuse without feeling guilty or ashamed. That’s why it’s important to produce a cultural discourse where sex workers are respected for what they do, even when it’s for the male gaze. Dancing for the male gaze in the strip club might not contribute to changing society, but the question is: is the strip club or any of our workplaces the right place to change society? Doesn’t change come from other places? From schools, from families, from social circles? Our workplaces are for the exact purpose they are called: for work. I never saw anyone asking a plumber to be responsible for societal change. We still have bills to pay, we happen to pay them by exploiting the male gaze, and it’s whorephobic to condemn us for that. Sex workers are tired of being scapegoats for society’s problems.

[communist-ojou-sama]

I saw how you said that describing the PRC as capitalist betrays a lack of understanding of capitalism and I actually really liked how well you explained that being against capitalism isn't proper Marxism/communism so I was wondering if you could open that post on understanding capitalism a bit more! Only if you're okay with it, of course!

Eventually I should do a real proper Effortpost on this with all the graphs and figures to really drive home the point that I'm making, but very briefly since it's getting late here:

In Marx's time, capitalism was an emergent societal mode of production that was closely entertwined with the enclosure movement and the industrial revolution. On the level of labor, it saw the decline of peasant and artisan labor and the rise of proletarianization, and with it the tendencies of mechanization and rationalization of production (e.g. de-skilling of manufacturing and measurement of efficiency by the labor-hour)

On a consistent historical level, from Marx's time to ours, capitalism has been characterized by the role of liquidity holders (e.g. banks, joint stock companies, investment funds &c) in investigating growth industries and investing in them for the purpose of greater profit. Notably: the demand from financial actors for returns on their balance-sheets is constant, regardless of the state of the development in any given productive market. Meanwhile the nature of industrial development is that it happens in fits and starts, in great surging advances followed by relatively stagnant plateaus. The results of this mismatch are twofold:

First, as Lenin chronicled, it leads for a demand to engage in imperialist expansion to open new markets and seek new profits that way. The other, arguably larger and more important frontier however is that of speculation. Because the inflation of the value of an asset creates purchasing power in and of itself in the short term, which is maintained on balance sheets so long as the arrears on credit derived on it keeps getting paid on a notional path to amortizaiton.

The tendency in capitalism since Marx's time has been the ever-growing importance of these two dynamics and the gradual receding of the importance of low-elasticity economic activity like manufacturing goods.

The tendency of imperialist expansion within capitalism has created a networked global bourgeoisie throughout the financial capitals of the world who extract rentier profits from the various rural peripheries of the global south, and the speculative nature of investment capital in the late 20th and early 21st century defines the quality of the "capitalist develpment" we see in bourgeois states in the contemporary global south: namely, extremely uneven development between rural and urban, trapping of the labor force in a holding-pattern of low-pay low-skill work such as textile production or low-end manufacturing (e.g. Bangladesh and Malaysia) while their capitals enjoy wealth near that of the imperial core, with relatively very high-paying jobs in the knowledge industries (this should ring a bell with India lol). Any country that is actually ruled by its bourgeoisie will follow this pattern, because financialized paper profits are larger (in nominal terms) than the highly investment-intensive industrial development that has gone on in the PRC under the stewardship of the Party. However the result is that the PRC has relatively low inequality among middle-income countries and the technological benefits of the industrialization led by cities is beginning to flow to rural China, which is what allowed them to lift 800 million people out of extreme poverty, something that has yet to happen in actually capitalist bourgeis states like India.

[concretecultist]

Kingdom Come

summary: you ask Noah, your Dom best friend, for a big favor.

pairing: sub!fem!reader x dom!noah

word count: 7.4k

THIS IS PURE FICTION!!

warnings: 18+!! BDSM, restraints, slapping/impact play, light degradation, pet names, dom/sub dynamics, p in v, oral (f receiving), subspace

A/N: this was purely self indulgent. please reblog and comment if you enjoyed 🥰

~Berry🫐

Life was kicking your ass. Harder than normal and the weight of the world was getting harder the bear.

Your job sucked, your body ached all the time and the one guy who you thought was going to be it for you, ended up ghosting you. All of it was a slap in the face and it was even worse when your landlord calls you to let you know the water would be off for a couple weeks due to maintenance issues. You guess you could tolerate it since he’s reducing rent during the time that the water will be off.

So, once you find out this information, you’re calling your best friend to see if you can crash there for a while. He had no problem with it. He no longer had roommates and often found himself missing having someone around.

So when you arrived and got yourself situated after a steamy shower to wash the day off, you find yourself sitting beside Noah with a question burning a hole in your tongue.

“I know this idea is out there but,” you choke on the words and realize how ridiculous this sounds.

“What?,” he keeps clicking away at his controller as he played his game, not taking his eyes off the screen. When you don’t answer, he takes a peak over at you and can see you biting your lip so hard it looks like it’ll bleed.

“Stop doing that,” he paused his game and used his thumb to gently pull your lip down from between the grip of your teeth, “What’s going on. It’s just me, Y/N,”

You look to him, twiddling your thumbs and decide it’s all or nothing, if he says no you guys can just forget you ever said anything.

“I need to turn my brain off,” you blurt out.

“Okay?,” he shrugs as if there was nothing to it, “I can have Folio bring some weed by,”

“No, I-,” you throw your face in your hands, cheeks burning as you think about it, “You are in the…. the BDSM scene and I want you to help me turn my brain off,”

His mouth drops in an ‘o’ shape as it clicks what exactly you mean. His hesitation has you feeling so silly. You should have just showered, went home and rubbed one out.

“Sugar, I’m not exactly sure you know what you’re asking for,”

You were his little sugar cube. Too sweet to know exactly what his life entailed behind the scenes. You never really seemed interested in it before. But little did he know, you were just nervous to show it.

He could be mean at the request of his subs during sessions and you were requesting it now but you were his best friend and he didn’t want to cross that line unless you were 110% sure.

“N-no, no I do,”

He’s briefly talked about his sessions enough for it to cause a burning of desire in your gut. You’ve never been in the scene but with the way things are going lately, you just need to be taken care of, to be manhandled and you’d rather do that with someone you trust.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” you mumble, humiliated now that you’d expect your hot, dom, best friend to do that for and to you, “I just made a fool of myself,”

The silence that he was giving after your initial ask was gnawing at your emotions, you just wanted to disappear right now.

“Sugar, it would be an honor but if we do this, there’s no going back because I’m going to want you forever,” his words spilled like the smoothest whiskey on the market. Sure, now this sounds like a typical cliche of friends to lovers but what’s wrong with that? Sometimes things like this are meant to become something more. Maybe that’s why long term relationship never worked for either of you… because you two were it for each other?

“Please,” your voice cracks with need. You had showered while he stayed on the couch playing a video game and yet your body is still tense.

“Follow me,” he stands tall before you, extending a hand in which you take easily. You could already feel some tension relieving from simply holding his hand.

He kept his pace slow, easy for you to keep up with as one of his steps equaled three of yours.

He had a spare bedroom that no one was allowed in, not even you and you guys had been friends for almost a decade now. So when he reached above the door to grab the key, you snatched your hand from his and took a giant step back.

“I can’t go in there,”

“Right, without my consent,” he peaked over his shoulder, “But you have that now and then some,”

You looked at him with wary eyes and he dropped his shoulders with a knowing sigh.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing,” his hands made their way onto your shoulders to deliver a comforting squeeze, “This is the way,”

One of his hands is gently cradling your cheek now and it’s so soothing that you can’t help but lean into it and he notices the way your eyes flutter.

He already knows you’re going to be so good for him tonight.

Noah leans his forehead down to yours and your lips are only a few centimeters a part.

“You trust me… don’t you, Sugar?,”

Immediately weak in the knees, noticing he’s already entering into his persona. You nod feverishly against him.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,”

A gentle peck on your lips has you leaning in for more when he pulls away.

“Take your hands off the wheel and let me drive,” is all he says before turning his back to you to unlock the door.

Time seemed to slow down when he pushed it open, a part of you wanted to close your eyes, still feeling nervous about seeing a space he deemed so private that he kept it locked up. Your hand is in his once more with him pulling you through the threshold as he flicks the light on.

Red fluorescent lights filling your vision.

It smells so good in here and you wonder how, considering what possibly goes down based simply off of what’s in here.

The bed frame looks like one luxurious bird cage, bolted to the floor and a sheer canopy draping over it. There’s bars hanging from the ceiling with cuffs hanging from them.

Open cupboards of different items like floggers, paddles then another filled with masks and gags, one full of toys. There’s a full fridge in here with a clear door and you can see different replenishing beverages and snacks.

This is his sex dungeon

“Something like that,” he spoke aloud.

Realizing your thoughts weren’t kept in your head you avert your gaze to the ground.

“I don’t use it much other than personal uses, any time I have a scene with someone I meet them at theirs. I’ve just been keeping this a secret until I found the one worthy to be in here,”

Your eyes widen as you raise your head to meet his.

“M-me?!,” poking yourself in the chest, “I… you mean me?!,”

His shoulders tremble in soft laughter, shaking his head at your disbelief.

“This entire time, I’ve just been wanting to bring you here but you never expressed any interest in the scene,” he played with your fingers in his grasp, something he always found comfort in doing.

“I didn’t know if you’d take me seriously. I’m not exactly… what comes to mind when someone says they want a submissive,”

“You’re exactly what comes to mind,” he brings you to a plush crimson couch, covered in velvet material. When your ass meets the cushions, he’s reaching to a table beside you to light a candle, bringing it over with him as he lowers himself into his knees before you.

“I’m going to go over a few house rules while I get you relaxed okay?,”

You offer a simple nod and he smirks,

“Rule number one- I always need a verbal answer. I don’t want to leave anything to the imagination and possibly misread body language, got it?,”

Swallowing thickly you nod once more, “I understand,”

“Good girl,” his hands make their way onto your calves, kneading the tight muscles, causing an involuntary moan in which you try to subdue.

“Number two, don’t be shy,” he says plainly, “I know this is new but you know me and I’m here to keep you safe so don’t shy away from me. Be as vocal and as emotional as you need to be,”

“I understand,” you answer once more. Your eyes watch his hands, curious when he picks up the candle, the flame flickering in his eyes.

“Three. Trust that I will never hurt you outside of what you ask for,” he tips the candle and a quiet gasp leaves your lips, quickly turning into a moan when the wax drips onto your tired legs, Noah instantly setting the candle down and massaging it into your skin.

“Pheromone massage candles,” he answered your unasked question.

“Four. I usually go by King during these scenes but since this is new for you I don’t want you to feel detached from me so call me Noah until you feel comfortable, okay?,”

“Y-yes,” your eyes cross slightly while his thumbs work into the sore soles of your feet. This was helping so much and just from this simple interaction, your core is buzzing already.

“Five. If you need to stop or directions are not okay or unclear- speak up. I’m going to need you to pick a safeword for me,”

You squirm on the couch, becoming putty in his hands as they move from your feet to your calves and now your thighs.

“Kingdom,” you answer with ease, if he goes by King might as well make it coordinate right?

“Good one,” he plants a kiss by your knee, “Rule six, no negative self talk or thoughts. I may degrade you but I will always follow it up with praise. You are loved and cared about, you understand me?,”

“I understand,” you nod.

“Seven. Have fun and let go. We are here together so remember I will always catch you,”

With his last rule he spreads your thighs, squeezing them to get a reaction out of you.

“Do you have any rules for me?,” eyes dark yet caring in the red glow.

“Don’t hold back,” an embarrassing whimper escapes, “I know I’m a rookie but I can take it and I know you’ll take care of me just…,”

Your hands grab his, holding them tight so he knows how bad you need this.

“Just don’t hold back. I need it, I know I’m safe so I just need you to hurt me, I need you to help me turn my brain off and surrender myself to you,”

Your words from earlier echoed in Noah’s head and he thought they were a crock of shit.

I’m not exactly what comes to mind when someone says they want a submissive

Bullshit. You were perfect.

He wipes his hands on a towel that he kept on the table with the candle, setting it and the candle back in their original spot when he was finished.

His hands are now sheltering your face because he can see your mind is still running a million miles a minute.

“What do you need from me right now?,”

You were embarrassed to say it.

“What were rules 2 and 7, Sugar?,” his voice pulled you from your own thoughts.

“To not be shy and to let go,”

He nodded in understanding, “So why are you breaking my rules and overthinking?,”

God, he was so good at this. The twinge of disappointment in his tone had your heart aching, you wanted to be good.

“Can.. c-can you smack me?,” your voice was barely a whisper and you knew he wouldn’t let that slide.

“Speak up, baby. Closed mouths don’t get fed,” his thumbs were rubbing such comforting circles on your cheeks, you couldn’t help but oblige.

“I need you to smack me,” it wasn’t a plea, it was a declaration.

Noah just reads your face. Studying your expression to see if there’s any doubt, any hesitation. He stands you up and then he leans in to kiss you with a sort of need that you’ve never been kissed with before. You two are breathing heavily in between and you can barely keep up. Your hands tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer, just wanting him to consume you.

He pulls away but before you can protest, you feel the searing heat of his open palm meeting your cheek. A gasp of surprise comes from you and yet again you’re left with no time to react when he does it again.

“Fuck,” you mewl, “More,”

He answers your demand with a little more power behind this one, the pain feeling so good you almost fall to your knees but luckily, he held you upright.

“Turn it off,” he says through clenched teeth, smacking you once more. If you were naked you know for a fact you’d be dripping down your legs, “Turn it off, Sugar. I see you trying,”

Hand on your neck, he’s pushing you backward and each step is another slap until he pins you to the wall, you can feel your eyes burn as the tears of desire being to rise.

You need this so bad.

“I said. Turn,” a harder slap, “It. Off!!,” with one more smack, you’re practically howling at how exceptional it felt, eyes closed as you welcome the sting that lingered on your flesh, feeling the heat running down to your neck and up to your temples.

Your head feels like you’re in limbo and when you open your eyes, he can see the change in yours and you can see the change in his.

You’re both in your designated positions. He has his hands on the wheel now. Your brain was off and the part of you that needed to be taken care of has entered the chat, the stressed version was locked away in a dark cell of your mind and would stay there until it was time to let her out.

“There she goes,” his hand soothed your cheek and you were liquid in his hands

“Thank you,” doe eyes shining up at him, he feels so proud of himself.

“Oh baby, it’s my pleasure,” he cooed, “Can you be good and undress for me?,”

“Can you help?,” your body was feeling fuzzy, like you had a few shots and were floating now. You felt like if you tried to undress yourself you’d topple over.

“Of course,” he felt gratified to be asked.

One article of clothing at a time until you were bare in front of him, pinned against the crimson paint on the wall.

“How are we doing? You okay?,” a kiss planted to your neck, his large hands running up and down your body had you sighing in content.

“On cloud nine,” you answer dreamily. You were in a daze, this room felt like your own amusement park now.

A room you once weren’t allowed in because this is his sanctuary. How many others were close to being brought here? How many others did he put in a hypnotic state?

“Put her away,” his gruff voice echoed in your ears, “She doesn’t get to come back. Lock it away,”

He could tell through your body language that you were starting to overthink again.

“Do we need to stop?,”

“No,” rearing back to look him in his eyes so he can see how bad you truly need and want this, “No. It’s turned off,”

“That’s what I need to hear,”

He brings you back over to the couch you were on a few minutes ago but this time he’s sitting on the cushion and he’s positioning you over his lap.

“Think you can handle a few spanks?,”

“Uh huh!,” excitement coursing through your veins, body jolting when you feel his lips press against the supple flesh that he was soon about to tenderize.

But first, he had to feel you. He has to feel your wetness coat his fingers. So his fingers trace figures on the back of your thighs and you’re jutting your ass up to get him to touch you, he delivers a light smack as a warning.

“Patience,” is all he speaks. Slowly but surely, his middle finger swipes your clit and lightly presses into your entrance.

He pulls a long drawn out moan from you when he fully pushes his finger inside. A quiet growl emits from his chest and your toes are curling.

“Noah pleeeeaaase,” you grip his calves, eyes rolling at his slow movement of removing his finger and reinserting it.

“What do you need, Sugar?,” you could hear the smile in his tone. The way he was speaking to you and touching you just made the anxiety melt away.

“Wanna feel your fingers. Always wanted to feel your fingers,” you couldn’t help but be unapologetically honest. For years you’ve watched his hands and how he talks with them, how he uses them to hold multiple things at once, how he sucks on them when he gets ice cream or ranch on them.

But until now you’ve always buried your desires deep.

“Oh yeah?,” without a warning, he’s stretching you open and you’re bracing yourself against his thighs, spreading your legs as open as possible so you’re not falling off his lap.

“You feel so good, Sugar,” he affirms, “So wet for me, so fucking warm,”

His fingers were reaching so deep it was intoxicating, never having experienced anyone with fingers as long as his has you going cross eyed.

“Thank you, Noah!!!,” your walls pulsing around his middle and ring fingers while his free hand soothed your ass cheeks before taking a big strike against them, the sound of his palm meeting your flesh bouncing off the walls.

“You’re so welcome, baby,” he picks up the pace of his fingers and he can feel the way you’re trying to get friction on your clit.

“Nuh uh,” he spanks you once more, “Be good, take what I give you,”

“Please,” singing a beautiful tune, you just want to let go for him, you want to crumble in his lap, you want him to feel what he does to you.

“Please what?,” another strike on your ass and another curl of his fingers inside you.

“W-wanna cum for you,”

“Is that right?,” there’s that teasing tone again, it makes you feel small but it only tightens the coil in your core. He moves his fingers with expertise inside of you and you think you’re about to orgasm strictly off of penetration which is rare for you. You almost always need clitoral stimulation.

“Please. Please. Wanna be good for you, wanna let go for you,”

You two have only just begun and you’re already a mess. You can hear the squelching, you can hear your heart thumping in your ears, you’re trembling.

You’re a fucking mess in his grasp.

“I think we should make your first one easy enough to earn,” he observed, positioning his knee right under your pelvis, adding the perfect amount of pressure as his fingers stroked the deepest depths of you.

“C‘mon, Sugar. Give it to me. Let it out,”

Your nails are digging into his calf and you’re drooling, rocking back into him but he didn’t mind this time, he’s enjoys seeing how desperate you are to cum, not just for yourself but for him.

You want to offer all you can to him. All of your emotions, all of your whimpers and cries, your mind, body and spirit.

“I’m gonna… can I cum, Noah? Please”

He gives a hum of approval and he can feel it, he watched your body swell with a deep breath and watched it deflate as you let out the most beautiful, guttural moan he’s ever heard.

His fingers halt their movements inside of you and he makes sure to rub your back to bring you back down.

“You’re okay,” a soft murmur leaves his lips while he slowly removes his fingers from your soaked hole, sitting you up and repositioning you in his lap so you’re straddling him.

“Be good and open for me,”

You follow his directions and bask in the glory of his fingers pressing down on your tongue, making you taste yourself. You collect your flavor but before you can close your mouth and swallow it down, he’s pushing his tongue into your mouth to taste you.

Your eyes instantly roll in the back of your head, relishing the taste of his mouth sharing the taste of you.

“Need you,” you pull away, hands cupping his face as if he’s made of glass, “Always needed you,”

His gaze softens for a moment, letting you know that ‘regular’ Noah hears you, that it’s not just his persona hearing those words.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” he purred, “You have me, Sugar. Just as I have you,”

With ease, he lifts you up and walks with you to the cupboards.

“Pick a toy, a gag and a restraint and come to the bed when you’ve made your decision,” a kiss is given to your temple and he walks away, leaving you to make your choices without any pressure. He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and makes his way to the bed.

He has so many trinkets to choose from. He just stock piled all of this stuff until he found the one? He really is a stickler for this kind of thing.

After some careful self-deliberation, you grabbed your chosen items and made your way over to him. Noah sat patiently within the doorway of the cage-like bed.

“I chose these,” you offer them to him and he gave an intrigued ‘hmph’

A rose, a silicone bar gag and wrist-to-thigh cuffs.

“Good choices, baby” standing up and kissing your forehead, he moves out of the way so you can see the bed. Silk red sheets, chains hanging from the bars, and the sheer canopy keeping secrets in with just a glimpse of what was to come.

“Climb up,” he pats your ass and you do just that, at a leisure pace so he can get a good view of you from behind. When you sit flat, you see him entering and closing the door behind him.

This feels much more intimate than just any ole bedroom. The lighting, the enclosed space, all of it made you feel closer to Noah.

“Before we start, take a drink for me,”

“But I’m okay,”

“Did I ask that?,” he tilts his head, eyes squinting as if to tell you ‘watch it.’

“I’m sorry,”

He cracks open the bottle and holds it to your lips, giving you a knowing look as if to say ‘I told you so’ when you drink down half the bottle.

When you’re finish he sets it to the side and hovers over you until you’re laying back on your elbows, eyes not leaving his.

“How are we doing? You still okay?,”

“I’m perfect, Noah,” a tender smirk made its way into your face, “I know I’m safe,” you assure.

“Are you okay? I know this kind of thing takes time, just don’t want you to feel pressured,” you inquire.

“There you go overthinking,” he kisses your neck, “For you, it’s easy to turn on. You never took notice to how I always took control? No matter what we did?,”

He’s got a point. Any time you two went out grocery shopping because you were anxious and didn’t want to go alone, he hooked his arm with yours, took your list and did all the shopping. Any time you two went out to the movies, he’s picking your snacks and drinks and doing all the talking. A hand on the small of your back each time you two were out, always helping you zip up your dresses or fastening your necklaces.

It was subtle, but it was always there.

“I was made for you. I was made to take care of you,” he continues his trail of kisses, planting them wherever he pleases, “And you let me. Which means you were always mine,”

A relaxed sigh is released at his words. He’s right and you know it.

“So, knowing this. I’m more than okay and am filled with joy of knowing that I get to break you and put you back together again, over and over,”

Bucking your hips up wasn’t a good idea, considering he pinned them down and got your restraints ready.

“I need this. Noah, please I need you” a shameful cry bounces off the bars of the enclosure you found yourself in.

“I know,” he growled, fastening your hands into the cuffs and attaching the other bands to each thigh. With your hands tied to your thighs now, you wouldn’t be able to touch him.

“You need me to wreck you. To hurt you so that the stressors of your everyday light aren’t plaguing your brain for once,”

He squeezes your cheeks so your lips are parted and lifts your head up to move your hair out of the way so he can tighten the gag.

You looked so beautiful like this.

“I’m here to give you just that,” he grabs the rose, “I don’t care how many orgasms it takes. I’m going to reduce you to nothing and fill you back up with worth again. I will end you and resuscitate you over and over again until you’ve had enough. Is that understood?,”

“Yeth,” you slur around the gag.

“Good,” on his knees, between your legs, he turns the rose on and the low hum fills the space, he leans forward to spit on your nipples before placing the opening of the toy over your harden buds, your back swiftly arching off the bed with a moan around the silicone.

He’s at this for a while, just teasing your nipples, biting at your jawline, groaning in your ear until you’re leaking onto the silk sheets.

You’re begging around the gag but he just teasingly looks at you as if he can’t understand you. But he knows. He knows where you need him.

“It’s a lot, are you sure you can handle it on your clit?,” he smirks so devilishly it’s almost scary. But the twinge of fear makes you ache.

“Mmhmm mmhm!,” already drooling around the bar, you nod feverishly, just wanting to feel something, no, needing to feel something.

You get what you desire when he sits back up on his heels to spread your legs even wider to get a perfect view of your swollen clit, glistening as your arousal is painted all over your core.

When he finally attaches the toy to your clit, your toes are curling, your eyes are rolling and your back is arching.

Maybe you weren’t ready for this, maybe you should have gotten a wand or something.

“Relax,” he says simply, using his own legs to pin yours down.

“Breathe, Sugar. Just breathe. Look at me,” he sees the way your eyes are swimming with tears and it brings him satisfaction, especially when your chest is trembling from him keeping the buzzing toy on your sensitive bundle.

“It’s a lot, I know but I wouldn’t give you more than you could handle,”

He slowly inhaled with you, guiding you to calm you down but it was just too much, so much that you’re already cumming and groaning behind the gag which causes Noah to darkly chuckle.

But he keeps it there. He keeps the rose there and you’re convulsing under him when he sinks his fingers into your messy core.

“That was pathetic,” he looked into your eyes, “And you didn’t even ask,”

He got so much amusement out of your whimpers, how the hell were you supposed to ask with a gag in your mouth?! But maybe that’s the point? It’s a set up for him to milk you as a form of torture.

It was sadistic but, you were the masochist after all.

“You’re so creamy,” he said in a daze, absolutely obsessed with the way you’re painting his fingers, your walls pulsing around his appendages as if they’re trying to draw them in and keep them there.

“Noaaaaaaahh!!,” your cries muffled, your face so wet from the tears and the spit but Noah finds it beautiful, if he could, he’d paint how you looked right now and frame it, get it tattooed even.

“You can do it. You asked for this, remember?” His eyes rolled at the feeling of his fingers deep inside, drenched in your offering, his tattoos glistening, catching his eye in the ruby lighting. He just wanted to be bottomed out in you already.

You’re calling for him from around the gag, breasts shaking as you’re overcome with yet another blinding climax. Your nails dig into your thighs, just wanting to dig them into Noah’s instead and pull him toward you. You wanted him, you craved him.

“Sshhhh. You’re okay, Sugar. You’re doing so well for me,” he picked himself up off your legs and grabbed a rag to wipe the spit that dribbled down your chin, “I’m gonna turn you over, need you to give me one more before you have me. One more and we can take the cuffs and gag off okay?,”

Sitting you up, his hand supporting the back of your head as he checks over you, making sure you’re okay.

“Do you need anything? A break, water?,” he breaks character for a moment

With a verbal “Nuh uh” behind the bar, you let him position you like a Barbie, letting him move your legs, manually arching your back and propping a pillow under your head so you were comfy and could breathe.

You feel him leave open mouthed kisses on your ass, biting the pillowy skin just to hear you hum in delight.

“Can’t wait to give you what you want,” Noah positions himself under you so he can stare right up at your leaking heat, no matter the angle, it was a mesmerizing sight to see, “But first, I just need to taste you.”

He exasperated in desperation before using his hands to grab your ass, bringing you down and lifting his head to feast.

Your fists are clenching in your restraint and your moans are flowing from your chest like a river. His tongue worked your overstimulated clit, suckling and licking. He ate as if you were the finest delicacy, trying to savor but also consuming you with greed.

Your body just responded to him without a fight, you were his puppet and he pulled the strings but you happily danced for him, giving him what he wanted. Yet again you feel his fingers push into you, you’d never get enough of his fingers, he knew how to use them and he knew how to use you. You were a howling mess against the pillow when you feel your next orgasm approaching. How did he expect you to stay up like this? Your legs felt like jelly and you were falling a part.

“You can do it, baby. I feel it. You’re almost there,” he murmured against your pussy, “One more and you can have what you want but you gotta show me you want it,”

Oh God did you want it, and bad! Your head felt fuzzy, your body was playing tug of war, fighting between it being too much versus you wanting it.

You gave in. Pussy pulsing, chest burning from hyperventilating and muscles aching. Despite it all, you’re cumming for him again, giving into your deep craving to just be his doll.

“You’re such a good fucking girl,” he cheers, drinking you in. He pulls himself away to position you on your back, quickly working to remove your restraints and gag.

“Sit up for me, Sugar,”

Your head lulling to the side, both of you giggling about it. He has you drink some more water and cleans your face with the towel again.

“I’m ready,” it was a simple whisper, “Show me what I’ve been missing. Please, King,”

The title takes Noah by surprise. He thought it would take a few sessions to get you fully under his spell but, you truly were for him. You were ready to bow to him, to fulfill every quest he bestowed upon you.

It kind of pulled at his heart strings. Whenever he was out in the scene he only cared about showing the subs a good time, a time for him and them to release and never see each other again. But this, this was euphoria.

“Lie down for me,” he hums, taking off his lounge wear and boxers so he’s bare just like you are.

He was a beautiful man to begin with but to see him like this in all his glory? It had you feeling like royalty. Others got to see him, yes, but you… only you get to see him.

He makes sure you’re comfortable before he inches forward, the tip nudging your clit and he grabbed your hands when you flinched away at the contact, lacing his fingers between yours.

“Don’t run away from me,” his lips were so plump, glistening with his spit and you just know they still taste like you.

“Call it before I ruin you,” he gave you one more chance.

“Do it” it wasn’t a teasing phrase. You wanted it. You have yearned long enough and now your wish is his command. His pins your clasped hand to the bed and takes your free hand, guiding it to his cock.

“Take it,” he ordered.

He was a perfect mix of girth and length, a mouth water red tip that shines with precum, two prominent veins, yeah- he was going to destroy you.

You couldn’t help but stroke him, watching the way his mouth hung open and his eyes closed gently, this is the face of a King all right. Scooting closer to him, not wanting to leave any space, you slapped his tip against your own clit, the breath of both of you hitching in tandem. The noises that emitted from between the two of you, while you rubbing him against your entrance, were sinful.

“Show me what you’ve been wanting. Show me how bad you need me,” he growls, hiking both of your legs around his waist.

You guide him into you slowly, the eyes of both of you going wide, rejoicing in the way he fit in you like a missing puzzle piece, filling you up to make you whole.

“Fuck!,” choking on your own spit, the heels of your feet pulled him in so he could bottom out. You needed to catch your breath because you know once he gets started, you’ll lose it again. He drew in a shaky breath, bewitched by how good you feel.

“Give it to me,” you squeeze his hand, “Make me yours. I want to be yours. Ple- Oooooh fuck!!,”

His hips drew back and snapped into you, cutting you off as the pleasure drowns you. He kept the stacattoed pace, just taking in your expressions.

But then he saw the way you looked at him, it was a look of complete surrender, a look that says “I love you, I trust you”

It was a look to tell him to let go.

So, he used his free hand to take your thigh and press it back so your knee was almost touching your chest. This wasn’t Noah, the King was here and he was going to show you exactly why he was given that title.

You’re pinned beneath him from all angles and it’s overwhelming. His chain dangling in your face with each thrust, his voice smooth like suede as he talks you through it.

“Just like that, pretty girl. Take what I give you,”

Your moans slipped out like a hot knife to butter, he was fucking you through the mattress, bodies tangled and noises echoing through the room, he was making you melt.

“S-so fucking good!!,” the tears were spilling from your eyes and he just kissed them away without missing a beat.

“I know, Sugar,” he bows his head into your neck to leave a trail of bites, sinking his teeth into your dewy skin, your cries of surprise being music to his ears. You welcomed the pain of his biting, he had beautiful teeth and you always wondered what it would feel like for him to bite you. You don’t care if any marks are left. You’re his, he can leave marks for you to brandish all he wants.

“I’m so proud of you,” he grunted into your ear, “Coming to me all vulnerable, wanting me to take care of you and now you’re taking it like the good little slut you always wanted to be,”

“Please!,” your free hand tangles in his hair, your other makes crescent shaped dents in the back of his hand that held yours, “Please, fuck! Don’t stop!,”

Noah lifts his head to see the spaced out look in your eyes, half lidded and dick drunk. He never thought he’d see you like this.

“Please what? Use your words,” he pulls back from you to watch the look of despair on your face when he slows down.

Your words are caught in your throat, finding it hard to make a coherent sentence.

“Please, what, Sugar? Don’t make me ask again” He lets your leg go to grab the bar of the caged bed above your head, preparing to pick up his pace when you admit what you need.

“W-wanna cum around your cock,” it was a strong wail, one of pure carnal desire.

“You need it that bad?,” he teases.

“King, please. I need it so bad!!,”

The wind is knocked out of you as he sets his pace, rolling his hips, the tip of his cock rubbing against every sensitive spot within you, causing you both to be vocal. A harmony unmatched. His whimpers fueling you to make it to the finish line. He wasn’t ashamed of the noises he made, especially because he saw how they impacted you.

He let go of your hand and smacked you just like he did earlier, eyes rolling once again as the heat only adds to the pleasure.

“More, please, please, please!!,”

“Such a dirty fucking slut. Getting off to her King slapping her around like a rag doll,” he smacked you again, earning another loud cry from you, he could feel just how much you love it, he can feel it when you clench around him each time his hand meets your cheek.

“Yes, yes,” your eyes never left his, not shying away.

“You like it when it hurts?,” another slap delivered, “You like it when it hurts knowing I’ll make it all better?,”

“Fuck!,” the tears just keep spilling but he knows they’re tears of release, of pleasure, they’re tears for him. Another offering to the King.

“I’m gonna make it all better, Sugar. Just keep being good and taking it, okay?,”

“Y-yes,”

He grabs your cheeks, squishing them together again so his tongue can slide in your mouth effortlessly. Teeth clashing, spit being swapped, the energy between you two was potent, a potion that you’d keep coming back for, drinking it down without being asked.

“I wanna cum for you,” biting his bottom lip, you pull back with a fucked out smirk on your face, “I wanna make a mess. I wanna show you that I’m worthy,”

“I already know that you are, baby,” his thumb tracing small circles onto your clit, his other releasing the bar and coming to wrap around your neck, “I know you’re my pretty little slut who will do anything to stay in my good graces,”

When his hand began to squeeze at your neck you were done for. Your moans came out in tremors, you were clutching onto him in anywhere you can. You groan at the loss of contact on your clit until his thumb is replaced with the same toy he wrecked you with earlier.

“You’re gonna take this toy from me. You’re going to be a good girl for your King and make yourself cum on my cock. You hear me?,” his voice was dangerously low now, letting you know there was no negotiation.

With a shaking hand you snake your hand between the two of you, grabbing the bulbous toy from him and holding it against yourself despite your body telling you to pull away.

“You’re doing great, baby,” he assures, a soft kiss placed on your lips, “Just focus on me. I’m right here,”

He was so close now. One hand on your throat and the other holding the back of your head, pressing your foreheads together.

“My King,” you gasp, chest heaving as you feel yourself ready to fall off the edge.

“I’m gonna catch you. I’m always going to catch you, baby,”

Your eyes stared deeply into his and you just sobbed, needing this more than anything and you just cried. Getting fucked within an inch of your life so good you’re crying was not something you expected to happen considering your past endeavors with men who only cared about getting their own rocks off.

“I know. I know,” he’s still driving his hips deep into you and you’re circling the toy lightly on your swollen, cum soaked bud, you were almost there.

“Give it to me, Sugar. Give me what you owe me,”

And that was all she wrote.

With one deep gasp to fill your lungs he delivers a strong thrust, your fingers trembling around the toy so hard you accidentally turned it up to the next level and you were done for.

You practically screamed as Noah siphoned your orgasm out of you. You were shuddering beneath him as he kept thrusting, still talking you through it.

“You’re okay. You did so good for me, I’m right here. Fuck!”

With one last searing kiss, Noah is stilling his movements, emptying himself inside of you, both of you practically giving each other mouth to mouth CPR as you try to catch your breath. His head has fallen in the crook of your neck and your eyes are fighting to stay open.

“You can come back down now. Come back to me,” he mutters.

You slowly regain all your senses back. Taking in your surroundings and what just happened. As everything hits you, your cries echo in the room.

“Hey,” Noah is quick to sit both of you up and set you in his lap, “What’s going on in that head of yours?,”

Swallowing your cries and wiping your eyes you search for him, eyes connecting, the same beautiful brown eyes you could point out in any crowd.

“Thank you,” is all you say, “I needed that. More than you know,”

He smiles in relief, worried that the scene had somehow upset you.

“We got to get you cleaned up. We’ve got some aftercare to do and some things to talk about,”

Once both of you were all bathed, Noah took the time to moisturize your skin, apply soothing lotion to your ass and even being gentle in doing your skincare routine for you.

Once he has you curled up in his bed, he went to go clean the other room and brought back some snacks and water with electrolyte packets.

He takes it upon himself to feed you all while affirming how good you were. That you’re loved and cared for, not wanting to leave any room for doubt to sneak in.

“You okay to talk?,” he questions.

You sit up against the headboard, worried about what this talk can pertain to.

“I see the cogs turning, relax,” he soothes, “If you want this like I want this we need to talk,”

“I want this,” you answer definitively. He can’t help but laugh at your excitement.

“I know it’s a little too late to say that I don’t want to rush into things but, I’d like to rewind a bit and start at square one,”

“And that is?,”

“A date,” he answers simply. Sure you’ve gone on friend dates all the time but this is different, this is serious, “I want to build it from the ground up. I know we’ve been friends for ages and have built trust but this is different and I want to build a stronger foundation because I want this to work,”

You take in his words, listening as he goes over his requests and needs for the relationship. You gave him your own list of demands and found yourselves giddy at the fact that yes, you two are a living cliche.

But who cares?

It was you and Noah against the world now.

Til Kingdom Come.

This idea was burning in my head for ages and I had to write it!!

Please be sure to reblog and comment if you enjoyed, thank you for your support!! 🥹

~Berry 🫐

tags: @lma1986 @thisbicc @theroyaldixon @whatitsdecending

[lanf1an]

DREAMS lando norris pt.6 When your childhood bestfriend Flo had convinced you to get the fashion design job at her brother's company Quadrant, it finally paid off when Louis Vuitton was announced as the new sponsor for F1.

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 wordcount: 1249

You don’t know if it was the fact that you already knew Lando as a kid, or if you were just outright stupid, because it hadn’t really crossed your mind that an F1 racer fucking his stylist, fit the picture perfectly. You didn’t feel like that. He didn’t make you feel like that. Or you were just ignoring it. You had seen photos with other girls sometimes. You didn’t think much of it. But when it started to be the same blonde girl quite often, you actively ignored it. 

The tabloid headline came out that morning—Lando pictured walking with the same girl you’d already seen him with a few times in random social media sightings. It wasn’t a big deal before. You knew what this was, what it wasn’t. But the way the headline framed it—Lando Norris and mystery blonde spotted again—F1’s most eligible bachelor off the market?—you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

You shouldn’t care. You don’t care. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself. But still, you find yourself pulling away, responding to his texts slower, keeping things short. Lando’s behavior, however, hadn’t changed one bit. He was still texting you daily. You hadn’t seen him in two weeks after he was in London. You didn’t have work at the previous race weekend. But there was an event tonight, which you were dreading now. Luckily you didn’t have a private fitting.

When you arrived at the event, you spotted Lando almost immediately. He was in the center of it all, drink in hand, laughing at something someone said. 

And somehow, as if he could feel you watching, he turned.

His gaze found yours through the crowd, and there it was again—that shift, the unspoken thing that neither of you had addressed. He didn’t look away.

Instead, he smirked.

You tried not to let it affect you. Tried not to let the fact that he abandoned his conversation and started making his way toward you send a thrill through your stomach.

“You look nice,” he said, voice low as he leaned in, just close enough for you to hear over the music, pulling you in a tight hug.

You rolled your eyes, but your pulse betrayed you, skipping slightly. “I styled myself.”

He grinned. “That explains why I like it.”

It was stupid, the way he made you feel—like this was something more than what it was.

Like you weren’t just orbiting each other for the fun of it.

‘’Missed you’’ he added.

But before you could say anything, someone else pulled him back into conversation, and you let yourself disappear into the party again.

Only, it was impossible to ignore him. Every time you glanced his way, he was already looking. Every time he passed by, his hand would brush against your lower back, the touch fleeting but deliberate. Every interaction was like a thread pulling tighter, winding something between you.

But then you saw her.

Blonde, leggy, the kind of girl who fit into his world seamlessly. She leaned in close, laughing at something he said, her fingers grazing his arm.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. That this was the dynamic you had set. But that didn’t mean you had to stay and watch it.

So, you left.

You weren’t dramatic about it. Just slipped out, phone buzzing in your hand a few minutes later.

Lando: Where’d you go? Lando: Come with me. Lando: Or I’ll find you myself.

You hesitated before replying.

You: Already back at my hotel.

You weren’t sure what you expected, but ten minutes later, there was a knock at your door.

And when you opened it, he was standing there, looking like he had run his hands through his hair a few too many times, like he had left the party the second you did.

“You left,” he said.

You crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Observant.”

His lips quirked, but there was something in his eyes—something not entirely playful. “You didn’t even say goodbye.”

You didn’t answer. You weren’t sure how to.

And maybe he didn’t need you to, because a second later, he was stepping closer, slipping inside, closing the door behind him.

Another beat of silence. Then—

“You’re acting weird.”

That makes you pause. “I’m not.”

“You are,” he counters, voice light but probing. “You’ve been weird all day. Actually… since yesterday. Barely texting. One-word answers. What’s up?”

“Nothing.” You finally turn to face him, leaning against the counter with your arms crossed. “I’m just tired.”

Lando raises an eyebrow, like he doesn’t believe that for a second. “Tired of me?”

“No, Lando. Tired. You know, that thing that happens when you don’t get enough sleep?”

He smirks. “Could’ve just said you missed me.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh my god.”

“See, normally, you’d have a better comeback than that,” he muses, tilting his head. “But you’re just shutting me down. Which means…” He trails off, eyes narrowing slightly as he studies you. “Did I do something?”

You look away. “No.”

“Did Max or Keegan say something dumb?”

“No.”

He squints. “Did you see something?”

Your stomach clenches.

Lando notices. His smirk returns, slower this time, like he’s figuring out a puzzle in real-time.

“Don’t tell me…” He starts, stepping toward you. “You’re jealous?”

You scoff immediately. “I’m not—”

“Hah,” he lets out a laugh, standing right in front of you now. “Oh my god, you are.”

“I’m not.”

“You so are.” His grin widens, like this is the most amusing thing that’s ever happened to him. “Didn’t think you were the jealous type.”

‘’I’m not’’

‘’You’re the one who said this was casual’’ he continued, your eyes widened. 

‘’Flo told me’’ he grinned. ‘’Which, by the way—ouch."

You huffed, trying to sidestep him, but he’s faster—grabbing your waist and pulling you toward the couch. You stumble slightly, and before you can protest, he’s already guiding you backward until the back of your knees hit the cushion.

“Lando—”

He doesn’t let you finish. He nudges you down onto your back, climbing over you in one smooth motion. He catches both your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head against the couch. His other hand settles on your waist, fingers pressing lightly against your skin.

“Say it,” he teases, mouth hovering just above yours. “Say you’re jealous.”

You glare up at him. “I’m not.”

He grins. “Liar.”

Then he dips his head, trailing slow, deliberate kisses down your neck, to your collarbone.

You shift beneath him, but he tightens his grip, keeping you in place. “Relax,” he murmurs, lips brushing against the sensitive skin just above your chest. “No need to be jealous, you know.”

“I’m not,” you insist, voice thinner now.

He chuckles against your skin. “Right.”

His mouth moves lower, pressing soft, lingering kisses down your chest, across your stomach, stopping just at the waistband of your pants. He looks up at you then, eyes dark with amusement—and something else.

“You’re the best fucking stylist, you know that?” he murmurs, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. “Take such good care of me.”

You swallow hard. “Lando—”

“Hm?”

He kisses just above your belly button, watching your reaction carefully. “Just want to take care of you too,” he murmurs.

Your breath catches. Whatever you were mad about, whatever had been making you pull away—it all feels irrelevant now.

And when he smirks, feeling the tension melt from your body, he knows he’s won.

tl: @freyathehuntress @linnygirl09 @sarx164 @joannaln4 @widow-cevans @444-leqz @laneyspaulding19 @mayax2o07@n3versatisfied @anayaverse @tvdtw4ever

[sacerdotessa]

Midheaven in signs

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Don’t plagiarize, you were born original, don’t die a copy.

I'm back with a new post after a very long time! I missed my tumblr community so much, I'm going to post new things soon!

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Aries Midheaven:

you’re such a competitive individual and an innovator, you’re not afraid of taking risks and being bold. It’s hard for you to depend on other people, you need to be your own leader when it comes to your career. The perfect career path involves a lot of action and dynamism, following every day the same routine is not something that appeals you. As a driven individual, you thrive on challenges and are always seeking new opportunities to grow and learn. You have a natural ability to think outside of the box and come up with innovative solutions to problems. You're not afraid to take risks and push yourself outside of your comfort zone, because you know that's where growth happens. When it comes to your career, you're not content with simply following the crowd. You need to be in control of your own destiny and chart your own path. You have a strong sense of purpose and direction, and you're not afraid to pursue your dreams with relentless determination. The perfect career for you is one that allows you to constantly evolve and adapt. You need to be challenged, stimulated, and engaged in your work on a daily basis. With your competitive spirit and innovative mindset, you're sure to make a real impact in whatever career path you choose

Taurus Midheaven:

Your top priorities are stability, enjoying life and being creative. You prefer to approach your career methodically, following a routine is not something that bothers you. You have amazing taste and expressing your creativity is very important for you. You might enjoy a career path that involves aesthetics and creativity, you might also enjoy a job that revolves around food (you might be a great chef). You should choose a career that aligns with your priorities and natural abilities, for example, exploring opportunities in the creative arts. You could pursue a career as a graphic designer, interior decorator, or fashion designer. Alternatively, you may find fulfillment in the culinary arts, either as a chef or food stylist. Whatever path you choose, be sure to focus on finding a work-life balance that allows you to enjoy the stability and creative expression that you value most. Remember, the most fulfilling career is one that brings you joy and satisfaction in all aspects of your life.

Gemini Midheaven:

You’re such a curious and multitalented individual, you might enjoy exploring multiple career paths during your lifetime. You’re talented when it comes to communications, media, journalism and anything that’s connected with writing. Routine is something that annoys you, you should choose a career path that involves a variety of activities. You’re also extremely expressive, you might be a talented actor. There are many career options that could suit your unique set of skills and interests. You should also consider pursuing a career in public relations or marketing because these fields often involve a mix of writing, communication, and creativity. Another option to consider is working in the entertainment industry, where your expressive nature and love for variety could be put to good use. You could explore opportunities in acting, directing, or even producing. With your natural curiosity and multitalented abilities, the possibilities are endless. Don't be afraid to try new things and explore different paths.

Cancer Midheaven:

Nurturing and taking care of those around you feels like a life mission for you. You’re such an empathetic soul, connecting with those around you and being sure that you’re working on making the world a better place is very important for you. You might be interested in a career that involves being around children or those who need support. Your natural inclination towards empathy and compassion makes you an ideal candidate to work with individuals who need emotional support and care. A career in counseling, social work, or education could be a fulfilling path for you to explore. You have the ability to connect with others on a deep level and understand their needs, making it easier for you to provide the necessary support and guidance. Additionally, your warm and nurturing personality would be a valuable asset in any team or workplace environment.

Leo Midheaven:

You’re such an ambitious individual and you love being in the spotlight. You’re a natural-born leader and you constantly need to attract other people's attention. You might be a good actor, singer or influencer. Being popular and influential seems to be some of your biggest goals. However, it's important to remember to use your platform for good. As a leader and influencer, you have the power to positively impact and inspire others. Consider using your talents and popularity to promote important causes or raise awareness about issues that matter to you. Remember, with great power comes great responsibility. It's also important to stay grounded and humble, and not let fame or attention get to your head. Stay true to yourself and your values, and continue to work hard towards your goals while also making a positive impact on the world.

Virgo Midheaven:

You prefer a career path that brings you stability instead of one that brings you power and fame. Being in the spotlight is not something that appeals you and you prefer to help others instead of being at the center of the attention. Being helpful is very important for you, being a doctor or working in the healthcare field seems to be perfect for you. You might consider becoming a nurse, a physical therapist, or a medical assistant. You might also be interested in working with animals (becoming a veterinarian). If you have a passion for nature, you might consider a career in conservation or environmental science. Whatever path you choose, you can be sure that your desire to help others and make a difference in the world will be fulfilled.

Libra Midheaven:

You might be interested in working in a field connected with communication or art (you might be a great graphic designer), you might also be an amazing stylist or director, you know how to connect the right people and coordinate a team. You’re such a creative person and you love to express yourself, you’re also amazing when it comes to discovering other people's talents and valorizing them. You prefer facts over feelings and you have a logical mind, you might be a good lawyer. Don't be afraid to explore different options and take risks in order to find the right fit for you. Whether it's in the realm of communication, art, or law, there are countless opportunities available for those with this placement. Remember to stay true to yourself and never stop learning and growing in your chosen field. With hard work and perseverance, you can achieve great things and make a positive impact on the world around you.

Scorpio Midheaven:

You’re such a private person, being in the spotlight is not something that appeals you, and working behind the scenes seems to be a better option. You’re such a deep person who enjoys mysteries and taboos, you might be an amazing investigator, surgeon or psychologist. You’re not afraid of taking responsibility and making tough decisions, which makes you a great leader. Your ability to analyze situations and think critically also makes you an asset in any team. Your calm and composed demeanor in high-pressure situations is admirable. You have a great sense of empathy and understanding towards others, which is a valuable trait in any profession. Your dedication and hard work have helped you achieve success in your career, and your determination will continue to take you further.

Sagittarius Midheaven:

You’re an explorer and learning new things seems to be one of your biggest passions. You might be an amazing teacher, those around you love to hear you talking about what makes you feel passionate. You might explore many different career path during your lifetime and you seems to be kinda lucky when it comes to money and finding good opportunities. Your career could also revolve around traveling and exploring new places. Your adventurous spirit is what sets you apart from others. You thrive on the excitement of discovering new things and visiting uncharted territories. You have a natural curiosity and a thirst for knowledge that drives you to explore different cultures, cuisines, and ways of life. Your love for learning is contagious and people around you are drawn to your enthusiasm. As a teacher, you have a unique ability to make complex concepts easy to understand. You have a way with words that captivates your audience and makes them feel excited to learn. Your career path may take you in many different directions, but one thing is for sure – you will never be bored.

Capricorn Midheaven:

You’re extremely ambitious and kinda “obsessed” when it comes to your career. Your reputation is very important for you, being perceived as someone who is important and influential is one of your biggest goals. You have a solid work ethic. You might be interested in finance or business. You’re an amazing leader, you tend to be admired by those around you for your success. However, it's important to remember that success isn't everything. While ambition is a great quality, it's also important to take breaks and prioritize self-care. It's okay to step back and reassess your goals and priorities. Don't forget to give yourself credit for how far you've already come. Remember that being a good leader also means being able to take care of yourself and those around you. Keep striving for success, but don't forget to enjoy the journey along the way.

Aquarius Midheaven:

You’re attracted to unconventional paths, not everybody are going to understand your job. You might try many different career during your lifetime, you’re someone who gets easily bored, starting again is something that makes you feel excited. You might work with technology (you might be a software engineer) or social network, you’re attracted to every jobs that involves technology, innovation and communication. Don't be afraid to take risks and try new things, but also be mindful of your long-term goals and aspirations. With your unconventional mindset and willingness to explore, you're sure to find a career path that suits you and makes you feel fulfilled. Keep an open mind and embrace the journey ahead!

Pisces Midheaven:

You’re not such a consistent person when it comes to your career, living in a capitalistic society is very hard for you. You’re such a creative person with a deep and insightful personality, you love to take care of others and you also love to express yourself through art. You might be an amazing artist and many people could feel inspired by your creations. You might also be a great therapist who has the ability to understand and empathize with others on a deep level. Whatever path you choose, it's important to remember that your unique perspective and talents are valuable and can make a positive impact on those around you. Don't be afraid to pursue your passions and explore different avenues until you find the career that truly fulfills you. With your creativity and caring nature, there's no limit to what you can achieve.

[jcmarchi]

Study finds workers misjudge wage markets

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/study-finds-workers-misjudge-wage-markets/

Study finds workers misjudge wage markets

Many employees believe their counterparts at other firms make less in salary than is actually the case — an assumption that costs them money, according to a study co-authored by MIT scholars.

“Workers wrongly anchor their beliefs about outside options on their current wage,” says MIT economist Simon Jäger, co-author of a newly published paper detailing the study’s results.

As a top-line figure, the study indicates that workers who would experience a 10 percent wage increase by switching firms only expect a 1 percent wage increase instead, leading them to earn less than they otherwise might.

That is one of multiple related findings in the study, which also shows that workers in lower-paying firms are highly susceptible to underestimating wages at other companies; and that giving workers correct information about the salary structure in their industry makes them more likely to declare that they intend to leave their current jobs.

The study also has implications for further economics research, since economists’ job-search models generally assume workers have accurate salary information about their industries. The study was performed using data from Germany, although it quite likely applies to other countries as well.

“Misperceptions about outside options have substantial consequences on wages,” says Nina Roussille, an economist at MIT and also a co-author of the paper. “The intuition is simple: If low-wage workers do not know that they could make more elsewhere, then these workers stay put in low-wage firms. In turn, these low-wage firms do not feel the competitive pressure from the external labor market to raise their wages.”

The paper, “Worker Beliefs about Outside Options,” appears in advance online form in the Quarterly Journal of Economics. The authors are Jäger, the Silverman Family Career Development Associate Professor in MIT’s Department of Economics; Christopher Roth, a professor of economics at the University of Cologne; Roussille, an assistant professor in MIT’s Department of Economics; and Benjamin Schoefer, an associate professor of economics at the University of California at Berkeley.

Updating beliefs

To conduct the study, the researchers incorporated a survey module into the Innovation Sample of the German Socio-Economic Panel, an annual survey of a representative sample of the German population. They used their survey questions to find out the nature of worker beliefs about outside employment opportunities. The scholars then linked these findings to actual job and salary data collected from the German government’s Institute for Employment Research (IAB), with the prior consent of 558 survey respondents.

Linking those two data sources allowed the scholars to quantify the mismatch between what workers believe about industry-wide salaries, and what wages are in reality. One good piece of evidence on the compression of those beliefs is that about 56 percent of respondents believe they have a salary in between the 40th and 60th percentiles among comparable workers.

The scholars then added another element to the research project. They conducted an online experiment with 2,448 participants, giving these workers correct information about salaries at other companies, and then measuring the employees’ intention to find other job opportunities, among other things.

By adding this layer to the study, the scholars found that a 10 percentage point increase in the belief about salaries at other firms leads to a 2.6 percentage point increase in a worker intending to leave their present firm.

“This updating of beliefs causes workers to adjust their job search and wage negotiation intentions,” Roussille observes.

While the exact circumstances in every job market may vary somewhat, the researchers think the basic research findings from Germany could well apply in many other places.

“We are confident the results are representative of the German labor market,” Jäger says. “Of course, the German labor market may differ from, say, the U.S. labor market. Our intuition, though, is that, if anything, misperceptions would be even more consequential in a country like the U.S. where wages are more unequal than in Europe.”

Moreover, he adds, the recent dynamics of the U.S. job market during the Covid-19 pandemic, when many workers searched for new work and ended up in higher-paying jobs, is “consistent with the idea that workers had been stuck in low-paying jobs for a long time without realizing that there may have been better opportunities elsewhere.”

Data informing theory

The findings of Jäger, Roth, Roussille, Schoefer stand in contrast to established economic theory in this area, which has often worked from the expectation that employees have an accurate perception of industry wages and make decisions on that basis.

Roussille says the feedback the scholars have received from economics colleagues has been favorable, since other economists perceive “an opportunity to better tailor our models to reality,” as she puts it. “This follows a broader trend in economics in the past 20 to 30 years: The combination of better data collection and access with greater computing power has allowed the field to challenge longstanding but untested assumptions, learn from new empirical evidence, and build more realistic models.”

The findings have also encouraged the scholars to explore the topic further, especially by examining what the state of industry-wide wage knowledge is among employers.

“One natural follow-up to this project would be to better understand the firm side,” Jäger says. “Are firms aware of these misperceptions? Do they also hold inaccurate beliefs about the wages at their competitors?”

To this end, the researchers have already conducted a survey of managers on this topic, and intend to pursue further related work.

Support for the research was provided, in part, by the Sloan Foundation’s Working Longer Program; the Stiftung Grundeinkommen (Basic Income Foundation); and the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (German Research Foundation) under Germany’s Excellence Strategy.

[prettypinkguns]

HOARFROST. ‖ poly!141 x reader

[wolf shifter au]

✎ cw: Wolf Pack, Wolf Instincts, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves (monster sized wolves), Pack Hierarchy, Pack Bonding, Werewolf Courting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Scent Marking, Marking, No Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Polyamorous Task Force 141 (Call of Duty), Military Inaccuracies, Military Backstory, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Possessive Behavior, Protectiveness, Knotting, Eventual Smut

AO3

Named in a will of estranged grandparents that you never met, you bequeathed a generous inheritance and a property out in Alaska; in a small town called Coalition. With city life slowly whittling away at you, you decided to take time off of work, flying out to Alaska. Partly to prepare the property to be sold before winter and to enjoy the wilderness in the meantime. There you meet four mysterious ‘bachelors’ of the town who not only took interest in you, but you in them. But you soon realize something wasn’t quite right about those men or the pack of wolves, with their strangely intelligent eyes, that frequented the woods surrounding your property. Curious, you're determined to get to the bottom of it. But as the saying famously went… curiosity kills the cat.

[1]

Sometimes, you wished life was simple. 

Where the world was nothing but a simple place with simple people who lived nothing but simple lives. Where there were no complexities, no complications, no corruption nor any suffering. A symbiosis, a balance. Between individualism and culture, nature and civilization, necessities and consumerism. Yet, life was anything but simple. And to long for such simplicity was nothing but wishful thinking. 

Like many, you felt crushed by the hustle and bustle of modern life. From which everything was autonomous, automatic. Where an individual’s entire life revolved around their jobs and whose personhood was defined by market value. To capitalism, a person was nothing but a commodity to be exploited and to maximize profits. Passion was snuffed out like a flame or squeezed and squeezed until it was nothing but rind. In which pastimes and hobbies were too much effort to keep; a common sacrifice. Just another stepping stone on a long career path, just another rung on the corporate ladder. Now only an emptiness remained from the smothering of both soul and spirit. Until you were nothing but a husk, an empty shell of a person. 

But such was life. And who were you to want simplicity?

But unlike you and a majority of the population, there were outliers. Others that weren't partaken with conformity or willing to settle for such a thing known as ‘normality’. Mostly nut jobs, based on personal assumptions. Or even religious cultists and doomsday preppers. Or people too consumed with conspiracy theories and antigovernmental beliefs. The black sheep of the family. But among it all, you didn’t know where your grandparents aligned. Didn’t know if they were a little bit of the above or none at all. They were never heavily involved in your childhood or your teenage years. You had no memories of them. Only knew what was whispered between the adults. Questions brushed off when you got too curious for your own good. Denial when you happened to remember something small and stray. A fleeting memory, that was like sand grains in your palm. Rendered as nothing but a child’s wild imaginations or vivid dreams.

Or even the feign of ignorance when you found a Purple Heart behind a delve of old photographs. All collecting dust in an old shoebox when you were helping your parents go through old boxes for a spontaneous spring cleaning. You remembered your parents’ faces when you showed them the shoebox. Purple Heart in your palm, black-and-white photographs rifled through by your curiosity. They had a look of complete fear; wide-eyed, color drained from their faces and frozen in place. Before the shoebox was yanked from your hands and you were sent away to your room, excused from helping out. 

That was the last time you saw the shoebox. 

You remembered one time when you tried to sneak into their bedroom to find it, but to no avail. But that fear on your parents’ faces was unforgettable. As were the old monochrome photographs of blurry faces, of strangers. Just like the weight of the Purple Heart in your hand and the stain of grime and dust on your fingertips. Sometimes you wondered about the significance of it. Wondered why your parents acted the way they did that day. They never did answer your questions about it, told you they didn't know what you were talking about when you would bring it up.

And soon, just like many things in your life, it became nothing but an odd occurrence in your past. Something you tossed around your head before shrugging your shoulders and worrying about other things. But one thing stood out to you, one thing was certain as time passed. Those strangers in the photographs weren’t just some random faces in a crowd. They were your grandparents. Those unspoken, estranged family members scratched out in the familial records. And even more interesting, they were former military. 

Now, you were sitting in your break room. Mentally exhausted, physically tired. Ready to go home and snuggle underneath your bed covers, scrolling through your phone until bedtime. It had been a long and draining work week. More than you had thought possible. But it wasn’t unusual. The holidays were coming up which only meant more strenuous work and more tedious responsibilities -– but such was life was it not? Luckily, you were the only person in the break room. Able to take a breather and actually enjoy your break by yourself. Your social battery was completely depleted, and you were in no mood to socialize, let alone tolerate another presence in the same vicinity as you. 

Quietly brewing in your own thoughts, you thumbed against a piece of paper in your hand. One that had been just another envelope lost in your endless pile of mail on your side table: bills, notices, magazines, and flyers. You had stumbled upon it a few days ago when finally getting the motivation to sort through the accumulating pile. Inscription of a legal notice was across the front that made your heart drop into your chest, fingers shaking as you carefully tore the seal to fish out what was inside. A will, and all assets and inheritance named to you. From your supposed grandparents. The call that followed was interesting… for lack of a better word. You were the sole inheritor, no one else in your family was named. But none of your family had contested it. Not even your parents. Upon their death, your grandparents’ bodies were already taken care of; cremated and buried in a private graveyard in their hometown.   

You had taken note of the information given to you and made arrangements for your appointment with an attorney in regards to the probate. You had gone early yesterday morning, all legalities and protocols were explained to you. And in the following afternoon, with a few signatures, all assets and inheritance were now legally yours. Namely, and more intriguingly, a property out in Alaska was now under your name. Now, you eyed the document again. Still in disbelief. It all felt too good to be true. As if any second, you would wake up from a dream to a snoozed alarm and indentations on your skin from your sheets. Your eyes went to your blaring watch, realizing that your break was over. You folded the document, tucking it away in your pocket. Letting out a deep sigh, you forced yourself on your feet. It was going to be a long day…

Back at home, you collapsed on your couch. Bag, keys, and all. Too tired to walk to your bedroom. Too tired to even think. But underneath it all, there was relief as well. Not only from finally being at home after such a long and grueling day. But also from your time-off being approved. Which was surprising given such a short notice and the upcoming holiday season. You remembered the nervousness. The shock you felt when you got that approval email. Things were going too well for your liking. But there was no time to question it or mull over it. You supposed ‘urgent family emergency’ had been sufficient enough. Which was accurate, but you knew it would serve partly as much needed time away from life.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there lounging on your couch. But eventually, like you had in the break room, you forced yourself up on your feet to get ready for bed. You had another long work week ahead of you. All you needed to do was to tough it out and get through it. Then it was packing up and heading to Alaska to see that estate for yourself. Do some upkeep and maintenance if necessary, take time-off as you did so, and then simply sell it — land and all. Then it would be a piece of cake from there. A straightforward plan; a solid course of action. 

Now all you needed to do was book that flight.

------------------------------------------------

From above, the town of Fairbanks was a spectacle among all the wilderness. And, after hours of flying, it was also a sight for sore eyes. Fairbanks was much more than what you expected for a city out in the Alaskan frontier. With high-rise buildings, arching bridges, highways, downtown areas, residentials and beautiful wilderness just beyond. A beautiful city just waiting to be explored and experienced. But it was not your destination nor was there any time to tour it. You had another flight to catch immediately after yours landed. The property that was left to you was out further, in the outskirts of Fairbanks. In a small town; more rural, more remote. Driving there was feasible. The main highway went near enough to the small town, but it did not go thoroughly. Renting out a car and driving there was an option, but not something you wanted to do after such a long flight. The next best option you found was to take another plane there. And luckily, the town had an airstrip.  

With all your luggage behind you, you went to find the right terminal gate and the pilot that would take you there. The terminal was surprisingly busy. But expected given the upcoming season and it being in such a huge city. Though it wasn’t the worst, not too overcrowded or hectic, as it wasn’t a hindrance to walk around. You eventually found the terminal gate on the other side of the terminal, opposite to where your plane landed. The sitting area for the terminal gate was completely empty, save for a couple workers behind a tall desk. The sight of it made you double check that you were in the right area. But soon after checking, you sat down and waited for the boarding call. Which didn’t take long to be announced. 

You walked forward with your luggage. Confused when the workers didn’t take it to be packed away onto the plane. Instead you were escorted onto the tarmac and towards a noticeably small conventional aircraft ahead of you. There was a person near the wing of the plane in the distance. Rendered into a blurred figure in the sun, no matter how hard you squinted to make out any noticeable features. But as you grew nearer, the clearer the figure became; as did the plane. A man stood against an old Beechcraft. Wiping along the wing tips so affectionately that it made you feel that you were stumbling into a private moment. But as you approached, his head lifted up and the man’s focus waned. Attention now on you. 

His face immediately lit up.

The man gave both of the workers a nod and a grin. Immediately, your ears perked up at the rhythmic lilt of a Russian accent as the man introduced himself as Nikolai. He took your luggage from the workers and you, stacking it away into the underside compartment of the Beechcraft. You couldn’t help but notice how casually the man was dressed for a pilot. Clad in jeans, a plain T-shirt, a brown leather jacket and boots. Finger length raven hair was slicked back neatly, curling naturally at the bottom of his neck  and emphasized his widow’s peak. A Cuban gold link chain hung around his neck. Apprehension prickled down your spine, suddenly unsure. More so as the workers left you alone with your supposed pilot. You eyed the man as he stacked another one of your suitcases inside the belly of the aircraft. 

“So you’re a pilot… sir ?” You asked. Trying to sound polite, conversationalist even, only for the skepticism to peek through and waver your voice. But if your pilot was bothered by it, you couldn’t tell. He only gave you a warm smile.

“Call me Nik, please.” He said, stuffing your duffel bag away. “And yes. Your pilot to be exact.” 

 “Well… Nik . How long have you been a pilot for?” 

“Nearly two decades.” With your luggage and bags all put away safely, Nikolai shut the underside compartment closed with an audible click. “But don’t worry. You’re in good hands.” He patted the side of the plane. “Katyushka and I will get you there safely.” 

You blinked at him. “ Katyushka.. ?”

The edges of Nikolai’s lips twitched as his smile widened. Obviously finding your butchering of the Russian word funny.

“Yes.” He leaned against the Beechcraft. “Well, to me. But to strangers, it’s Ekaterina .” The drawl of his accent made it sound so sensuous that you couldn’t help but shift your weight on your heels. “Built her from the ground up years ago. She’ll take you where you need to go, no problem.” He affirmed that notion with a gentle patting on the metal body again.

“Ok.” You nodded, your concerns not diminished in the slightest.

“It’ll be smooth sailing, I promise.” Nik opened the passenger side door. Offering his hand out to you as you reluctantly stepped forward and into the aircraft. Then took his seat in the pilot seat afterwards. 

Curious, your eyes wandered around the flight deck. At the various knobs, levers, buttons, and dials. Blinking displays and flashing lights that grabbed your attention, wondering what they all were for. Nikolai grabbed the aviator headset from its perch, placing it on top of his head. Then looked towards you, gaze meeting your inquisitive one as he tapped against the earmuff. 

“Headset – put it on.”

You nodded, looking around near your seat aimlessly before a hand darted in your vision, grabbing the other headset next to the side of your seat. Though Nik’s smile remained, you grabbed them sheepishly. Putting them on then fastened your seatbelt. Nikolai flicked a few switches and pressed more buttons before the Beechcraft sounded to life. The engine revved as the propeller began to spin faster and faster. Until the twisted nose blade was but a blur. 

“She purrs like a dream.” The static voice of Nik surprised you as it hummed through the intercom. “Hope you’re not afraid of heights or get motion sick. Ran out of emesis bags months ago.”

You swallowed, putting on a neutral expression. “I’ll be fine. Already came this far, didn’t I?” 

You didn’t know if you were trying to convince him or yourself but either way Nikolai moved the plane down an unoccupied part of the airstrip. Away from the other larger commercial planes, one of which you had arrived on. He stopped just at the end of the tarmac where it ended at the tree line. Slowly and steadily, the Beechcraft went along the airstrip before Nikolai increased the throttle, making the Beechcraft pick up more speed. Until the wheels hovered above and the aircraft soared. The worst part of the plane ride came and went. The Beechcraft cruised at a comfortable altitude. But your nails were dug into the leather of your seat still and you released the lungful of air you repressed. The Russian man found it amusing it seemed by the way his grin only widened. Which made you force yourself to ease your grip on the seat and relax. 

There was a silence between you both, more comfortable than awkward which you appreciated after such a long day of traveling. You settled back into your seat, arms across your chest as you leaned to your right. Stared out of your passenger window to the sight beyond. All you saw was a clear blue sky and the tufts of clouds floating on by, whipped around by wind. Before you knew it, you were starting to get drowsy. Your aviation headset blocked out the sound of the plane and the propeller, only emitting white noise from an open radio line. You decided to lay down your head for a while, letting your eyelids flutter close as you snuggled against the side of the plane’s interior and into the leather seat. But soon just resting your head turned into you dozing off the rest of the way there.

A sudden turbulence made you bolt you awake, panicked as your stomach dropped. Hands gripped around the armrests as the plane shook as it began to descend. Your wide eyes darted to your left, catching the Russian pilot’s apologetic smile.

“Sorry,” Nik said over the headset, “Didn’t mean to scare you awake.”

You were groggy, still rubbing the sleep away from your eyes. Not lucid enough to consciously hide the scowl on your face. You relaxed a little, arms across your chest as you peered through your window. You weren’t surrounded by an endless sky anymore, having decreased in altitude. Below you was the Alaskan frontier in all its glory — alpine mountains, wide lakes and winding rivers, overgrown grasslands, open fields and thick woodlands.

You couldn’t help but admire the beautiful view, disregarding all that second guessing that occupied your headspace since your first flight. For that moment, all worry and regret was gone, and you felt at peace. Enjoyed all the scenery for a while, but it wasn't long before you were near your destination. From above, the small town of Coalition was a strange sight in the surrounding frontier. A smidge of civilization in all that untamed and untapped Alaskan wilderness. 

"Hold on."

The fuzzy words of your pilot came through the aviation headset that you both wore. 

On cue, Nikolai eased the Beechcraft lower and the cabin of it shook as it began to descend downwards, making you clutch against the armrests. Your pilot aimed towards the landing strip on the outskirts of the town where its fetal airport, paling in comparison to a commercial terminal, settled in a manmade open field. When the plane's wheels safely kissed the ground, you let out a rush of air. Relaxing into your seat as Nikolai slowed the acceleration until the aircraft began to lose its speed and rolled off into a slow and easy cruise.

He drove it towards an overarching steel hangar, coming to a stop just at the threshold. When the engines were cut off, you were quick to pull your aviation headset off and hop out. Stretching away the ache in your limbs and breathing in deeply for once as crisp air filled your chest for once rather than city smog. You took in the sight of the trees in the distance. Already their canopies were just beginning to lose their green pigmentation, right on the cusp of turning into shimmering gold and auburn. 

Fall was imminent. Thereafter, winter. Ideally, the land you inherited would be sold before then with a bit of luck on your side. But for now, you would enjoy your time off in such beautiful surroundings. 

“See. Told you it would be smooth sailing.” Nik smiled with a lean against the right wing of the plane.

“What about when you scared me awake? What was smooth about that?” You asked.

But he only shrugged. “Can’t tame the wind.”

Nikolai began to pull your luggage out of the holding compartment – one by one. Quicker he was retrieving it out than he was when trying to stack them inside like Tetris pieces. When you grabbed all your luggage, you and Nik exchanged your farewells before sauntering off and tended to the plane. His ‘ Katyushka’ , whatever that meant. But it was only when you grabbed all your luggage, struggling to carry it all as you walked, when you realized how far the town was from the airstrip. And how you didn’t have a designated ride there. You stood there for a moment, contemplating on what to do next. With such a small town, you doubted there were any taxis or any sort of paid ride shares. It seemed your predicament wasn’t as internal as it seemed when Nikolai soon approached you, concern etched on his smiling face.

“Are you waiting for someone?” 

“Not really.” You said, trying to sound unbothered. “I was just going to walk.”

“All the way to town?!” Nikolai eyed all your bags. 

You couldn’t help but feel bashful, feeling a need to dissuade and not draw attention to yourself and your little predicament. “Yeah. I need to stretch my legs anyway after the back-to-back flights.”

“It’s a two mile walk into town.”

You nodded, nonchalant about it. But internally you were screaming. “That’s not too bad.”

By the look on his face he doubted your words. “Do you have anyone you can call to pick you up?”

“No.”

He was quiet for a long moment. Before saying, “Wait here.”

You watched as Nikolai jogged towards the hanger then went around the side of it. Less than a minute later, a loud engine roared to life. Revving in the distance before a vintage four door sedan appeared from behind the hangar. And around the landing strip, following a gravel road along the perimeter. The car stopped at a junction just off the runway, where the gravel merged into a dirt road and then stopped in front of you. Nikolai emerged from the driver’s side, trunk already popped open as he went for your bags.

“It’s ok, Nik, really. I don’t mind walking. It’s not that far.”

But he only shook his head at you. “It’s no problem to me.”

“But the road leads straight to the town, right? I think I can manage it fine.” 

“With all these bags? You won’t make it there by sunset.” Nik said right as he stuffed one of your duffle bags into his trunk. Ignoring your pointed stare. “Besides, we got some wolf sightings recently. Not good to let you wander about.” 

You widened your eyes at him. Your skin began to prickle. “Wolves? Aren’t they usually too scared to be so close to people?”

“Usually, yes. But this pack’s the bold type. They like to sometimes wander the outskirts of town, too close for people’s liking. But for the most part, they mainly stick to the forest.” Nik huffed as he picked up one of your heaviest suitcase. “Which is why I don’t want to let you walk all the way to town. If you get lost in the trees and end up as their dinner, I don’t want to have that on my conscience.”

You let out a sigh, an almost laugh that made you ease up. You watched him a moment before deciding to help Nikolai put away your luggage in his car. Despite his insistence for you to let him do it. 

“Is it a big pack?" You asked, putting your bag into his backseat. Mostly for conversation but also to feed your curiosity. 

Nikolai loaded the last suitcase and closed the trunk with a loud click. Then shook his head. “It's only a few of them.”

You hummed in interest. Went around the car and opened the passenger side door. You settled yourself in the leather seat, putting on your seatbelt before the car went driving down the road. A silence settled between you and Nikolai once more, much like the one during the flight here. You occupied yourself by leaning on the car door armrest, looking out the window to the surrounding trees. But as the road turned uneven and rough, the car rattled over holes and bumps. What was a nice cruise down turned to slow and steady driving as Nik carefully tried not to scratch the paint or get his car stuck or scraped. And the lowered suspension from the added weight of  all your luggage didn’t help the effort of getting over potholes and elevated ground. 

You sat back in your seat, arms across your chest. But nonetheless grateful for not walking, experiencing just how bad the desolate road had become. Soon Nikolai was on a paved road again, leading into civilization. The town of Coalition was about what you expected for a small, rural town in the middle of nowhere. Small facilities here and there, the necessities needed to sustain and maintain a population. You noted some of them as the car drove by: a small general store, a local grocery store, a doctor’s clinic, a post office, a community center and a gas station. And all in a centralized area. 

You guided Nikolai towards where the property was, having written the directions just in case. Nikolai knew the roads by heart and nodded along, already knowing where to go. The property was on the outskirts of the town, more situated within the forest. But it wasn’t uncommon, there were other properties that did the same. It was late afternoon, by the time the vintage sedan rolled up to the property, following an off road dirt roadway leading between a dense thicket. Soon you saw a cabin, unassuming in the shadow of the pines and evergreens and all by its lonesome in a clearing in the forest. It stood on a few acres of sundered land – your land – that endured against the fickleness of nature. Slowly and steadily, the forest encroached – brush, young tree saplings and briar that creeped into the clearing and towards the cabin. 

Nik stopped just short of the gravel driveway where a tree had fallen and blocked the path. Roots uprooted, sticking out of the end of the trunk. It was a young tree, properly too weak to hold its canopy during the winter. The hole where it grew from was already covered up. And the tree was already cut up and sectioned in logs by a chainsaw, its branches rotting in a heap thrown aside towards the forest. You wondered if your grandfather had done it. The thought sat like a stone in your mind, it made you recoil. Trying to imagine the grandparents you never met, never saw. But still gave you this property after their passing. One that you looked up at now with curiosity and… fear, comprehension? 

Too many questions, too many thoughts. You dismissed it all away.

You expected Nikolai to stop right then and there and park. But he only drove around the logs, crushing the vegetation underneath as he went. The sedan stopped in front of the cabin. He left the car on but in park as he hopped out, wasting no time in unloading all your luggage with your help despite his disapproving frown. It was easier taking it all out than it was loading it, and before you knew it all your luggage and bags were on the front porch. And with a wave and smile from Nikolai, and sincere gratitude from you, you watched as the sedan drove away until it disappeared between the trees. 

With a heavy sigh, you turned and faced the door to the cabin. The house key felt heavier in your pocket. Overcome with a sudden hesitation that prevented you from moving. As if you were a vampire needing permission to enter a home. You took a big step back, sitting on one of the wooden chairs out on the patio. Next to dead perennials and other potted plants grouped along the railing where you assumed the early morning sun concentrated. You took in the fresh air. The smell of the forest and soil that felt cleansing for your lungs, accustomed to the fumes of pollution. After a few minutes you stood back up. Facing the door once more, you placed your hands upon the wood. Feeling the cool, smooth surface. You grabbed the key, turning the lock and with a squeak, you opened the cabin door and went inside. 

You stared into darkness. Only a rectangular strip of light extended into the cabin from behind you. Enough for you to distinguish the shadowed shapes of furniture and decorations. Your footsteps echoed against the wood flooring, reverberating through the dark as you grabbled around for a light switch. 

“Let there be light.” You mumbled to yourself and flicked on a light switch. 

Immediately the house flooded with warm lighting. You walked further in, hit with the layered smell of dust and must. The cabin was a bit smaller than it looked from the outside. With a small yet open kitchen that led directly to a living room. A singular hall divided both, leading to the back of the cabin where a bedroom and bathroom were. You took a second to wander and take in the inside. It was what you expected a grandparents’ house to be like. Rustic and vintage. With old furnishings, knickknacks, and décor. 

Various art pieces, landscape paintings and nature photographs hung on the walls. 

A cross-stitch sampler of the wild Alaskan landscape full of grazing deer and songbirds in the treetops was next to the front door, right above a small table where a wilted plant sat. Plush couches overstuffed with not matching throw pillows huddled around a wood-stove in the living room. A large bookshelf stuffed full of old books and films lined along the wall, away from the wood-stove, and next to an antique grandfather clock. Ticking away, louder than your footsteps as you went to the window. Pulled the drapery and opened the window to air out the house and get rid of the stench. Dust motes danced in the sun streams, floating and falling slowly like fall leaves.

Everything felt lived-in and loved. How peculiar.

You made quick work in bringing in all your luggage and bags. Collapsing on one of the couches and into the pile of pillows, some tumbling onto the floor from your impact. But soon the smell of dust from the cushions invaded your nose and you quickly got up, making a mental note to deodorize the couches. You grabbed your suitcases and bags, taking them down the hall past the other bathroom and a closet to where the master bedroom was at its end.

The floor creaked as you stepped foot inside. Sunlight filtered through the drapery as you pulled it aside and right onto the handcrafted quilted duvet of a queen sized bed in the center. It was a decently sized room with a small connecting bathroom. Compared to the rest of the house, it was decorated minimally. With only a bed, an armoire, and a lamp. A small vanity desk near the window. Some novelties here and there. You lifted the window latch and opened the bedroom window to get rid of the stuffiness in the bedroom and continue to air out the house. You rummaged around the room, finding clean sheets, pillowcases and blankets in a plastic tub underneath the bedframe. 

They were still fresh and smelt of detergent, better than the duvet and pillowcases that have been sitting in a stuffy room for who knows how long. You quickly changed the bedsheets, pillowcases and duvets. Throwing the stripped contents aside on an end-of-the-bed bench to be cleaned later. You brought all your luggage inside, the entirety of it cluttered a majority of the space. Only giving you one way to get on and off the bed and a path to the bathroom. You cleaned up as much as you could, a shallow cleaning: sweeping and wiping away the gathering dust; taking up the rest of the late afternoon that turned into early evening.  

Now, the only thing left was something to eat. You walked into the kitchen, looking around. The fridge was filled with expired and molding food. And nothing appetizing. You looked into the pantry cabinet, seeing a lot of canned foods and sealed, labelled mason jars. One of the labels reading ‘chamomile’ caught your eye. You grabbed it, looking inside to see the dried flowers of chamomile. Deciding that tea and that bag of chips in your handbag from your flight to Alaska would be your dinner. You found an old kettle and searched through the kitchen cabinets stacked with mismatched dishes, old tea cups, novelty mugs, and glassware. You grabbed one of the mugs, noticing it was hand-painted with a howling wolf. After a few tries, you managed to light the propane stove, filled the kettle with water and began to boil it. You filled a tea ball you found in one of the drawers with the tea, letting it seep once the kettle whistled and you filled up your mug with boiling water. 

You enjoyed what you could of your…dinner. Deciding to peruse the bookshelf for something interesting to read as you began to settle. But soon, you felt your entire day weigh down on you; the entirety of your day filled with travel. You closed the living room window, noticing the waning gibbous moon between the sliver of clouds. You pulled the curtain closed and went to the bathroom for a much needed shower. When you finally collapsed onto the bed and sunk into the quilt, you tried to get some rest. Only to toss and turn for hours, not being able to get comfortable. Soon there came a recognizable sound. Between the doldrum came a cry, the howls of wolves in the distance. It was a night’s call, a symphony. Haunting, beautiful. You couldn’t help but tilt your head, trying to hear it better. Memorized by the harmony. 

You snuggled underneath the covers, listening to the howling until it lulled you to sleep.