#Surface Distance Function

[hannieehaee]

luna, my beloved,

can i get a very down bad (and also very horny) woozi, please?? he just gives me the vibes of a very obsessed boyfie when he's truly in love.

also, i love your works so much!!!! ♡♡♡

18+ / mdi

content: simp!jihoon, established relationship, afab reader, smut, dry humping, very fluffy, jihoon is insanely in love with reader its disgusting, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, etc.

wc: 2157

a/n: thank u so much!! <3 i rewrote this four times bc way too many scenarios of woozi being down bad plagued my brain (still do), so i hope u enjoy what i came up with <3

masterlist

even after months, jihoon was unable to understand this weird feeling in his chest. one that he only ever got when he was around you (and on occasion whenever he thought about you). it was some sort of inexplicable heaviness. the beating of his heart would speed up and it would feel as if time slowed down. every touch and every breath felt like a sensible decision, and his thoughts would turn into static.

sometimes it was just in the background. sometimes he'd hold your hand or listen to you rant about your day and still be able to act as a functioning human. but there were times in which it simply overtook him.

he had had relationships before; both physical and not, but he had never experienced this feeling before. jihoon was unsure whether or not he liked it. it made him feel weak, but also made him feel more.

there were instances in which this feeling would be accompanied by lust. one accidental peak of a sliver of skin of your thigh and his lips would go completely dry. one grace of your hand a little too close to a sensitive part of his body and his knees would buckle. he was unsure if you knew about how easily it was for you to get him ready to plea for even one touch, but the truth was that it didnt matter. there was no space in his empty head to think about it in those moments.

truth was, jihoon was insanely enamored by you. some (soonyoung) would call him 'down bad' for you, but jihoon liked his term better. being enamored entailed that jihoon adored everything about you, with the pleasure you gave him included among those things. though there were times in which his lust simply grew so big that jihoon could admit to simply being down bad horrendously for you.

currently, that feeling in his chest was ever so present, and he knew that his lust was just about to take over. nothing had yet happened, but still, he felt a desperation that brought a crimson color to his ears. just looking at you as you slept beside him had him holding in a whine of your name.

to be fair, you looked angelic in this moment. you were facing him – although your face was almost completely pressed up against your pillow. your arms were wrapped around your chest in front of you, causing your breasts to press up together in the form of soft mounds peeking from under your tank top. your blanket was covering most of your body but still gave him sight of some of your shoulder. your hair was covering most of your features yet he could still rejoice in your mushed up face as you seemingly made yourself as small as possible. soft breaths coming from you were the only thing he could hear. his senses were all overtaken by you, even as he leaned down and quietly smelled the floral scent from your shampoo.

the beating of his heart was so loud he was sure it ran the risk of waking you up.

it's not that he was nervous, he was simply too caught up in you. every emotion you ever made him feel was making its way to the surface, causing his hands to clam up and his lips to run dry. he wanted to touch you so badly, but he knew that the moment he did, he would fall to his undeniable lust for you. it was hard for him to simply adore you from a distance, as his carnal feelings for you would always take over somehow.

however, his need for you won, making an embarrassing side of himself take over and pull you closer to him in order to wake you up un the softest way he could. he began to pepper kisses on the nude sliver of skin your shoulder offered him, breathing heavily as he prepared himself for what he knew would come as soon as you arose from slumber.

it was only a few moments later in which you began waking up, murmuring his name in that soft morning voice he loved so much.

he hadn't mean to sound so desperate that soon, but the moment he felt you begin to arch against his hold, – encouraging him to keep kissing any available skin – he couldnt help his pleas to let him have you in a way he relished in knowing only he had the privilege of having you.

"a– angel, please ... need you so bad ..." were the first words out of his mouth, murmured against your neck as his hands rubbed at your hips through the blanket.

"hoonie? what's wrong?", you were clearly still half asleep, only taking in his touches but not computing the words he was saying. but it was fine. he could be more specific if need be.

"you're so soft ... so pretty. can i have you, angel? please?" he didnt care how desperate his first words to you that morning sounded. he never felt any shame in showing you just how badly he always wanted you.

"oh, hoonie ...", you breathed, removing the blanket from the way and pressing yourself even closer to him.

the two of you were now curled up against each other with no distance between your bodies as you faced one another. with your lack of clothing, – him in just boxers and you in a tiny tank top and booty shorts to match – jihoon was now able to feel you up as he wanted; something which he took advantage of immediately.

he finally disconnected his lips from your skin, now making eye contact at the close proximity between you. however, before even being able to express his want for you once more, his lust won over him again, making him press his lips against yours with urgency.

he moaned and whined against your lips, his hips searching for yours as he positioned himself above you. there was no way for him to help himself. you were just so soft and pretty and beautiful and perfect. nothing couldve possibly interrupted that cloud of lust that was taking over him.

jihoon still had trouble processing how such a pretty girl could ever be his. he knew he was in love with you since the day he met you. just from a first glance, he thought you the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. speaking to you as acquaintances had been hard, but befriending you had been the biggest challenge. even back then, his feelings for you manifested in very noticeable ways. all his friends would mock him for the way he'd stumble over his words or stare at you a little too much. luckily for him, this did not last long. by some grand act of god, you had found some sort of liking towards him, giving him various obvious openings for him to finally ask you out (and admittedly, it took a lot of silent encouragement from you to get him to finally act up).

upon starting your relationship, it didnt take long for jihoon to make his adoration for you known, constantly letting you know how perfect he found you in any and every capacity. all his defenses would go down when he was around you, causing him to wax poetic whenever his emotions took over him – not to mention the endless files of love songs he had produced since meeting you. anything you desired, he would deliver just for the promise of your happiness.

your relationship had him thinking that maybe his past self suffered a grand deal in a past life; just enough for karmic retribution to grant him the girl of his dreams in the next.

and that's how he felt at this moment, grinding his clothed cock against your cunt as you whined into his mouth. could life get better than this? better than having the love of his life mewling into his mouth as he carelessly canted his cock into the warm heaven between your legs? he couldnt help but groan at the reminder than you were all his, and that he had access to every inch of your breathtaking body for his and your pleasure.

"fuck ... wanna fuck you, but you feel so fucking good like this– shit ..."

"dont stop ... i can cum like this. promise!", you cried whilst pulling at his hair, assuring his mouth stayed glued to yours.

as much as he wanted to keep letting you lick into his mouth and pulling at his hair, he was craving the two mounds that were pressing up against his chest. without further thinking, he disconnected your lips, groaning at the way you tried to chase his lips before hearing you whine once again due to his rushed removal of your top and the feeling of his tongue toying with your tit.

he practically devoured your tits, licking and nipping at every inch of them before using the tip of his tongue to play with your nipples. the way you cried his name had him losing his inhibitions, making him grind even harder and faster against you. your gorgeous and warm cunt was the only thing in his mind.

despite wanting to give you an orgasm just like this, he needed more. he needed your cunt strangling him as he chased both your highs.

"can i fuck you? please ... i know you wanna cum like this, but i cant last ... wa– wanna last for you, but you just feel so ... so fucking good."

"please, hoonie. fuck me .."

he hadnt moved faster in his life, discarding his boxers and your shorts in order to prepare himself for you, but suddenly it hit him.

"baby ... c– condom? do you have any?", he had forgotten to buy new ones before you stayed over last night, so he was hoping against all hope that maybe you had some in your discarded bag in the living room.

"no, hoonie, i .. i don't have any," your eyebrows were furrowed in concern, but he could tell you were still lightheaded from the pleasure you had been feeling just a few moments ago.

"oh, i ... i can just dry hump you? yeah, uh, i'll just–", he couldnt help himself in sounding deflated. he wanted your cunt so fucking badly, but had stupidly used his last backup condom last night.

"or ... you can just .."

his head perked up at that, halting before even starting to grind his hips against yours again.

"baby– "

"just go without it, hoonie. i trust you," you gave him a soft smile, holding onto his cheek before pulling him down for a peck.

"oh, i ... fuck. y– you– " his brain was short circuiting. raw? you were going to let him have it raw? oh. oh, fuck.

"baby, please i need you so fucking badly."

he could never say no to you. as per usual, he gave you exactly what you wanted, ignoring how badly this moment would ruin him; corrupt him and smear his brain with thoughts of your unfiltered cunt for years to come.

and ruin him it did, as he immediately lost himself the moment he entered you, groaning at the warmth and wetness coating his cock.

"you're perfect. god, fuck ... you– you're going to ruin me, arent you? you al-already have, shit ... you're my dream ... love you so fucking much, oh fuck ... make me yours and never give me back, i– i need to be yours. need you every day, fuck, please ..." he babbled senselessly as his hips went crazy against yours, drinking in every cry you released and groaning at every scratch of your nails against his back.

he was already close from having dry humped you through his boxers while he made out with you earlier, but now he knew his end was just around the corner. begging you to cum inside was likely out of the question, but his body demanded he at least try, except you somehow beat him to it.

"baby, inside, please! need you to fill me up ... fuck, please ..."

he had no way to respond other than by crying your name against your neck, relishing on the sound of slapping skin as he chased his end inside you with the desperation of a starved man.

with multiple expletives and confessions of love hidden between cries of pleasure, the two of you came one right after the other, kissing each other all throughout your highs.

now jihoon felt nothing but unfiltered bliss. he held you in his arms and caressed your body to the best of his tired ability, continuing to tell you sweet words of affirmation as you did the same in return.

jihoon was more than fine with being obsessed with you if it meant having you all to himself like this. he would gladly get teased about being down horrendously bad for you as long as he had you in the end.

[iguanodont]

Are there any crocodilian equivalent in the birgs world? Cause consider the fact that the crocodilian body plan have evolve multiple times here on earth just like carcinization

They do, but ive decided to be cheeky about it and give them jaws that function nothing like a crocodile’s.

This is far from my first attempt at designing an amphibious ambush predator, but I think this is the first iteration I’m really satisfied with. Known to the twowi as Saugu-gui, this is a family of heavily built animals that seize prey near the surface of rivers and lakes with their long forelimbs and use their own bulk and muscular appendages to drag it underwater. The actual chelicerae are small and used only for food processing after prey has been successfully dispatched. The species most readily known to the twowi is the stocky variety sketched at top, large and strong enough to prey on sheep sized organisms, through much longer bodied species are found elsewhere in the world.

They are cumbersome on land but the short bodied Saugu-gui can travel surprisingly long distances overland when searching for a mate and a suitable nursery site. Carrier larvae are fully aquatic, settling in the mud after “laying” to live as filter feeders for several years. Each one produces a few dozen tiny, predatory true larvae at the end of its lifespan, which retain the primitive ability to breathe underwater for the first few months of life.

———

Put this one up for free on my patreon this week, where ive got a bunch of other miscellaneous worldbuilding for those interested

[avnnetwork]

Connecting the World: Telecommunications Satellites Enhance Global Communication Networks

In an increasingly interconnected world, the role of telecommunications has never been more critical. The rapid growth of digital communication technologies has significantly transformed the way we live, work, and interact with one another. At the heart of this transformation lies a technology that orbits high above us – telecommunications satellites. These sophisticated machines play a pivotal role in bridging gaps across continents, bringing people closer, and enabling the seamless exchange of information on a global scale.

Telecommunications satellites are the backbone of modern communication networks. These satellites are designed to transmit signals across vast distances, overcoming the limitations of terrestrial infrastructure. By relaying signals from one point on the Earth's surface to another, they enable instant communication, regardless of geographical barriers. This capability has revolutionized various sectors, from media broadcasting to internet services, emergency communications, and more.

The Evolution of Telecommunications Satellites

The journey of telecommunications satellites began in the mid-20th century. Early experiments with satellite communication laid the groundwork for what would become a global network. The launch of the first artificial satellite, Sputnik, in 1957 marked the dawn of the space age. However, it wasn't until the launch of the first geostationary satellite in 1965 that the true potential of satellite communication was realized. This satellite, positioned in a fixed location relative to the Earth's surface, could provide continuous coverage to a specific region, paving the way for real-time communication across the globe.

Since then, telecommunications satellites have evolved dramatically. Advances in technology have led to the development of more sophisticated satellites with greater capacity, reliability, and efficiency. Modern satellites are equipped with high-powered transponders, enabling them to handle large volumes of data transmission. These advancements have expanded the capabilities of satellite communication, making it an indispensable part of the global communication network.

How Telecommunications Satellites Work

The operation of telecommunications satellites is based on the principles of radio frequency transmission. These satellites receive signals from ground-based stations, amplify them, and retransmit them back to other ground stations. The process involves several key components:

Uplink: The transmission of signals from a ground station to the satellite. This is typically done using high-frequency radio waves.

Transponder: The component within the satellite that receives the uplink signal, amplifies it, and changes its frequency for retransmission.

Downlink: The transmission of signals from the satellite back to a ground station. This completes the communication loop, allowing the original signal to reach its intended destination.

Satellites are positioned in different orbits depending on their specific functions. Geostationary satellites, which orbit at approximately 35,786 kilometers above the equator, provide continuous coverage to specific regions. Low Earth orbit (LEO) satellites, positioned much closer to the Earth's surface, offer lower latency and are often used for services requiring real-time data transmission, such as internet connectivity.

Impact on Global Communication Networks

The impact of telecommunications satellites on global communication networks is profound. They have enabled a level of connectivity that was previously unimaginable, facilitating the seamless exchange of information across vast distances. Here are some key areas where their impact is most evident:

Media and Broadcasting

Telecommunications satellites have revolutionized the media and broadcasting industry. They enable the transmission of television and radio signals to remote and underserved areas, ensuring that people worldwide have access to information and entertainment. Live broadcasts of major events, such as sports competitions and political speeches, are made possible through satellite technology, allowing audiences to experience these moments in real time.

Internet Connectivity

In many parts of the world, terrestrial internet infrastructure is either insufficient or nonexistent. Telecommunications satellites provide a vital solution to this problem by offering internet connectivity to remote and rural areas. Satellite internet services have become increasingly popular, providing reliable and high-speed internet access to communities that were previously disconnected.

Emergency Communications

During natural disasters and emergencies, terrestrial communication networks are often disrupted. Telecommunications satellites play a crucial role in providing emergency communication services, ensuring that rescue and relief operations can be coordinated effectively. Satellite phones and portable satellite communication devices are essential tools for first responders and humanitarian organizations, enabling them to maintain communication in even the most challenging conditions.

Global Navigation Systems

Telecommunications satellites are also integral to global navigation systems. They provide the precise timing and positioning data required for navigation and location-based services. These systems are essential for various applications, including aviation, maritime, and land transportation, as well as for personal navigation devices used by millions of people worldwide.

Future Trends and Developments

The field of telecommunications satellites is continually evolving, driven by advancements in technology and increasing demand for connectivity. Several trends and developments are shaping the future of this industry:

High Throughput Satellites (HTS)

High throughput satellites represent a significant advancement in satellite technology. These satellites offer substantially increased data transmission capacity, enabling faster and more reliable communication services. HTS technology is particularly beneficial for providing broadband internet access to remote and underserved areas, helping to bridge the digital divide.

Constellations of LEO Satellites

One of the most exciting developments in satellite communication is the deployment of constellations of low Earth orbit satellites. These constellations consist of hundreds or even thousands of small satellites working together to provide global coverage. LEO constellations offer lower latency and higher data transfer rates compared to traditional geostationary satellites, making them ideal for applications such as internet of things (IoT) connectivity and real-time data services.

Advances in Satellite Manufacturing

Advances in satellite manufacturing are making it possible to produce smaller, more cost-effective satellites. These miniaturized satellites, often referred to as smallsats or cubesats, can be launched in large numbers, providing flexible and scalable communication solutions. The reduced cost of manufacturing and launching these satellites is driving innovation and enabling new players to enter the market.

Integration with Terrestrial Networks

The integration of satellite communication with terrestrial networks is another key trend. Hybrid networks that combine satellite and terrestrial technologies can offer seamless connectivity, ensuring that users have access to reliable communication services regardless of their location. This integration is particularly important for providing consistent internet coverage in areas with challenging terrain or sparse infrastructure.

Challenges and Considerations

While telecommunications satellites offer numerous benefits, there are also challenges and considerations to address. One of the primary challenges is the cost associated with launching and maintaining satellites. The development, launch, and operation of satellites require significant investment, which can be a barrier for some organizations.

Additionally, the increasing number of satellites in orbit raises concerns about space debris and collision risks. Ensuring the long-term sustainability of space activities requires careful management of satellite operations and the implementation of measures to mitigate the risk of space debris.

Conclusion

Telecommunications satellites have fundamentally transformed global communication networks, enabling instant connectivity and information exchange across vast distances. From media broadcasting and internet connectivity to emergency communications and global navigation, the impact of these satellites is far-reaching and profound.

As technology continues to advance, the future of telecommunications satellites looks promising. High throughput satellites, LEO constellations, and advancements in satellite manufacturing are set to further enhance the capabilities of satellite communication. By overcoming challenges and embracing innovation, telecommunications satellites will continue to play a crucial role in connecting the world, bridging gaps, and enabling a more connected and informed global community.

In a world where connectivity is essential, telecommunications satellites stand as a testament to human ingenuity and the relentless pursuit of progress. They embody the spirit of exploration and innovation, bringing people closer together and fostering a sense of global unity. As we look to the future, the continued evolution of telecommunications satellites promises to unlock new possibilities and drive the next wave of communication advancements.

[mathmodder]

Get Wild Mod by MathModder (In Progress)

What you need to know:

This mod introduces wild animals into your game map that spawn naturally in beetle spawners. It includes birds, small mammals, amphibians, more insects and reptiles in nature zones. Birds can fly and land in random locations and ground animals can be seen walking around the map.

You can choose ONE from various versions that best suit your world. Select the version that spawns specific animals suitable for your World's location.

Here's a list of potential versions that will be included in the mod:

All Wildlife (City World)*

All Wildlife (Medieval / Country town)**

American Wildlife (City World)*

American Wildlife (Medieval / Country town)**

European Wildlife (City World)*

European Wildlife (Medieval / Country town)**

African Wildlife (City World)*

African Wildlife (Medieval / Country town)**

Eastern Wildlife (City World)*

Eastern Wildlife (Medieval / Country town)**

*Versions for cities will have additional specific effects that help create a more beautiful environment for your city, such as planes in the sky, fireworks, sunshine rays during the day, and sky lanterns for the All Wildlife and Eastern Wildlife version. **Versions for Medieval/Country towns will feature additional specific effects to enhance the beauty of your world, including hot air balloons in the sky, sunshine rays during the day, and more.

These additional effects mentioned above will appear rarely and randomly in your world.

Can I place individual animals in specific locations, such as on rocks or tables?

In a future update after launch, this function will be added, for now they will only spawn where there is a beetle spawner. Ground animals on the ground and birds in the air.

Is the mod heavy to run?

Within the game I am optimizing it so that a small number of animals spawn at the same time and only spawn at a maximum distance of 500 meters from the player's camera.

How many files will there be?

Because there are many animals and specific animations for each one, the files will be heavy, will be a maximum of 2 to 3 files. In tests in my game with 150 other mods from other creators, I didn't see any loss of performance due to the optimization I'm doing within the game.

It is worth mentioning that some files will need to be placed in the Overrides folder and others in the Packages folder, they will all be specified at launch.

Is this mod compatible with other effect mods?

Yes, it will be compatible.

Bugs:

Depending on the location, there may be some bugs such as birds landing in the air or animals walking a little above the ground, this is due to calculation problems on certain game surfaces and physics, whether hills or mountains, but over time I will update and see What can I do to reduce this. In this case I depend on the engine the game has and whether it is possible to correct certain errors.

Release date:

Between January and February 2024 (It is in the testing phase)

Here is the list of animals that will be included in the mod:

American Eagle Bird

Anteater

Artic Tern

Aphids

Bat

Beaver

Bees

Black Bird

Black Egret

Black Fox

Black Goose

Black Rat

Blue Bird

Blue Frog

Blue Green Parrot Bird

Blue Jay

Blue Lizard

Blue Parakeet

Blue Macaw

Booby Bird

Brown Bird

Brown Bunny

Brown Egret

Brown Hen

Brown Monkey

Brown Owl Bird

Brown Pelican Bird

Brown Squirrel

Bullfinch Bird

Bullfrog

Butterflies (many colors)

Buzzard Bird

Canary

Capercaillie Female Bird

Capercaillie Male Bird

Canadian Goose

Cardinal

Carcara Bird

Charadriidae

Chimp

Chimpmunk

Chukar partridge

Condor Bird

Cormorant

Coyote

Crow

Cicada

Cockroach

Dart Frog

Dove Bird

Dragonfly

Egret

European Goldfinch

Falcon

Female Peacock Bird

Flamingo Bird

Fox

Fireflies

Golden Monkey

Golden Pheasant

Goldfinch

Gray Frog

Gray Lizard

Gray Parrot Bird

Gray Partridge

Green Bird

Green Frog

Green Lizard

Green Parakeet

Green Parrot Bird

Harlequin Duck

Hawk

Heron Bird

Hoopoe Bird

Horn Owl Bird

Humming Bird

Humming Bird Loop

Jack Rabbit

Kinkajou

Komodo Dragon

Ladybug

Lilac-breasted Roller

Little Red Parrot

Little Yellow Bird

Little Yellow Parrot

Magpie

Mallard Bird

Marmot

Marten

Male Peacock Bird

Mole

Multicolor Bird

Nude Rat

Orange Bird

Orange Fox

Orange Frog

Owl

Pangolin

Pheasant

Pink Cockatoo

Piper Bird

Possum

Pigeon

Quero-Quero Bird

Raccoon

Raven

Red-Eyed

Red Fox

Red Frog

Red Head White Cardeal

Red Lizard

Red Panda

Red Macaw

Red-crowned Crane

Rooster

Scissor White Bird

Sea Parrot Bird

Seagull

Silver Pigeon

Skunk

Snake

Sparrow

Spiny Lizard

Stork

Striped Lizard

Swallow Bird

Toco Toucan

Tortoise

Vulture Bird

White Bunny

White Cockatoo Bird

White Diving Bird

White Fox

White Goose

White Hen

White Monkey

White Owl

White Pelican Bird

White Piper Bird

White Rat

White Squirrel

White Swan

Wild Rabbit

Woodpecker

Yellow Lizard

Yellow Parakeet

Yellow Pelican Bird

Yellow Toucan

Want to support? Be a Patreon and get Early Access! Math Modder | The Sims 3 Mods and MO-MO-MORE! | Patreon

If you have any questions, leave them in the comments and I will add them to this post!

[adaginy]

The Big Guide to Humans: Skin

First: Yes, it is true that humans have whole-body stripes that not all species can see. Yes, it is also true that they themselves cannot usually see them. They are an artifact of pre-natal development and are present from birth. They usually have no significance, though some skin abnormalities may follow their usually-invisible path (or may make them visible).

See body art for questions about deliberate skin markings.

--- Human skin is a soft yet durable covering made of stretchy proteins. It provides protection from water loss, pathogens and UV radiation, insulates their body against external temperatures, synthesizes a chemical they use to make their skeleton, and is home to humans' abilities to feel touch and to cool themselves.

The skin is made up of layers, further divided into more layers, and the different functions are distributed within them. The details of these layers are not necessary to know for working alongside humans; suffice it to say that the topmost layer may noticeably flake off in very dry environs and this is mostly harmless but irritating to the human, oozing a clear but yellow-tinted liquid (see immune system) represents a minor but disproportionately painful injury of having scraped off the uppermost layers, and bleeding (oozing or gushing a red opaque liquid, see circulatory system) means the injury is deeper still.

Skin that has been damaged can usually repair itself over time, although it may take assistance (externally binding the wound shut, for example). Deeper wounds are likely to scar, that is, to be repaired with a tougher skin of different appearance. This is not the same thing as a callus, seen on the base of human feet and sometimes on the fingers, in which the skin grows thicker and tougher to resist pressure injuries.

It is normal for tiny hairs to be present in the skin over most of the human's body, regardless of sex or gender. Both sexes may have prominent hair on their faces or torso after puberty (see lifespan and development), but it is much more common with men.

If the human is warm (likely if ambient temperature is above melting point of gallium) or has been exerting themselves, they may "sweat." Salt water will leak in small amounts from all over their skin, concentrated on the forehead/under their hair, in the soft socket under where their arms meet the body, and around the external genitalia, to make use of evaporative cooling. They may begin to smell strongly; they usually find this smell unpleasant. If the human is cold, or in some scary situations, the tiny hairs may stand up instead of laying flat. This is an evolutionary artifact from ancestors with thicker fur and no longer helps to keep them warm or frightens predators.

Humans' sense of touch is very sensitive, especially on their hands, but outside of their hands it is sometimes not precise. You could lay one of their hairs on a surface and ask them to find it by feel, and they would be able to do so with their hands even if the surface was not smooth. If you dropped a single hair on the bare arm of a human, they would feel it, but they would not be able to pinpoint its exact location without seeing it.

!! Due to tiny dangerous creatures on their home planet, humans will usually immediately attempt to remove the source of an unexpected small light touch, often by swiping at it with a hand or by jerking their body. If you are fragile or tiny, and this would damage or dislodge you, get their attention before physical contact. !!

While humans can only see a narrow portion of the electromagnetic spectrum, they can sense somewhat beyond that band with their skin. Infrared can be sensed as heat, especially at short distances. Ultraviolet can be sensed over time, as specialized molecules in the skin cause cells to sacrifice themselves to prevent it from penetrating farther into the skin. However, by the time the human has noticed the feeling of this cell-sacrifice, the skin is likely to be damaged enough that it will darken and/or become red and sensitive soon (within the timespan of a human sleep cycle). Humans with naturally darker skin can generally withstand ultraviolet radiation for longer periods of time before becoming damaged. When the darkening or reddening has passed, small brown marks called "freckles" will often remain, usually for the rest of the human's life. If the skin has reached the red stage, as the color returns to normal the damaged skin may come off in thin sheets as though the human is molting. Do not offer assistance with removal unless they ask.

Human skin is covered in bacteria, viruses, and fungi that are mostly harmless to them. This is covered in more detail under microbiome with some pertinent points under mating.

[ay0nha]

This world needs sanji ANGST...i haven't seen anything like that that isn't immediatley fluff so plz plz plz do angst OR maybe enemies to lovers but reeealll enemies ther'es gotta be beeeffff

tension. jealousy. protectivness. what the hell. where is it.

thank u :3

Pairing: opla!Sanji x f!reader

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: canon-typical things, smoking, cursing, the Baratie, mentions of annoying/handsy costumers, RUSHED ending (sorry), etc.

A/N: Hello anon! Thank you so much for the request. I started a little sm sm based of this request and a couple similar ones. It's just a start, so let me know if I should turn this into something more/longer...I have ideas...COMMENTS ENCOURAGED. Enjoy.

PART II

You always preferred sailing on quiet nights.

Fewer lights from the ship scared the stars into submission. It was the only time your shoulders settled and your breaths became leveled. The air’s humidity wrapped you in warmth and the patterned waves lulled your racing thoughts. 

Yet, the lights of the Baratie reminded you that those idyllic nights remained only in memory, few and far between. The chatter radiated an aura, which functioned as a reminder of the never ending responsibilities of hospitality. 

Your dwindling cigarette marked the time left of your break, but you savored every second. You slouched into your shoulder, head resting softly to the side to acknowledge the footsteps approaching you. 

“Sanji.” Even with your back to your newly found company, you knew who had found you. He always had. “If Zeff sent you…” You drew in a deep and finalizing breath, the crackle satisfying in contrast. “Turn around and fuck off.” 

The breath of his laughter exposed his delight at your demise. “Your funeral—

“—Our.” You corrected him. Finally offering a glance, you saw he’d replaced his apron for a tie. Always trouble, you thought.

“Nah, you’ll be alright…” He tutted with humor. “Regardless, who can I count on to spit on my grave?”

You hummed to hide a semblance of a smile. Sanji’s charm was worthless to you, never working in his favor. It had taken years of coaxing past vindication to even occupy the same space. So as always, you’d removed yourself to create a more familiar distance. 

“Funny.” You only ever entertained him with sarcasm.  Flicking your butt into the darkness, you began to walk away. “Just don’t get in the way.” 

The night was busy—every night was busy. You hadn’t minded the adrenaline or the late hours. It was what kept you going, kept you from realizing that slowing down would never be an option. 

But then the constantly spinning world stopped. Your wrist was caught in the hand of a guest, the very one whose crude remarks failed to cause a reaction. However, your plastered smile only encouraged him. You became a challenge he hadn’t realized would eventually retaliate. 

It caused a scene, glass to be broken, and scolding from Zeff that echoed throughout the kitchen. Your pent up venom led you to an ultimatum; cool off or leave. Now, your headache dulled in comparison to the nausea you felt walking back in. 

Hearing your name you turned to see Sanji’s face illuminated with his lighter. His eyes were fixed on his task, but you knew he was speaking directly to you. “You’re alright, though? Right?”

It was happening more frequently than you’d like to admit; your sarcastic insult caught in your throat and your breath pinned to the roof of your mouth. Your words were lost. Sanji was responsible for the confusion of feelings and it only furthered your resentment. 

Yet, your voice was never found and so you nodded with promise. 

Instead, your wrist throbbed and you were sure by the end of the service the bruising would surface. But you rolled it as if the action could wash away the pain. You straightened your posture, pulled a practiced smile, and held a soft air as you began again greeting guests table by table. 

The people dining waited their turn just as those rubbing elbows with them. From the decor, the crystal, story of the menu, even you were a part of the experience.  Performance was key and you were nothing but stellar at pretending to be someone else. 

“Good evening—” You greeted.  Your voice could have been mistaken for sultry. Some nights you struggled to recognize yourself. “—I’ve noticed you’re back and your wine is getting low.”

“Always attentive, you.” The Baratie regular reveled in the banter. It was formulaic at this point, but the atmosphere captivated you both. 

“I can’t help but play favorites.” You countered, granting a heavy pour of wine into his glass. Your dress cut low, ever dip intentional to distract from the mountain of Berries owed for the aged wine provided. 

His eyes took in your figure, falling into the trap. “Apparently, I’ve got competition.”

You wanted to feel good, as you normally did. The fabric complimented your physique and kissed your skin with such sensuality. The feeling of hungry eyes on you never grew old. The assurance was always refreshing. However, there was a weight tonight that wasn’t the fault of the fabric.  

“Pirates can never resist treasure.” You pushed past the crack in your demeanor. You smiled wider, but your eyes cast down at your wrist hoping it didn’t reveal too much too soon.  

The bark of laughter almost made you flinch. “Not the filthy pirate! Your friend there—” The man continued, complaining about nonsense while raising his already dwindling glass to Sanji. “100 Berries he’s spit in my food.”

That swirl in your chest had just settled, but it returned as your eyes met Sanji’s.  His glare wasn’t shy, burning through you. Judgment about your pairing of wine, most likely. Regardless, you noted the fluidity in his movements pulled him closer to you. 

The man laughed at the slight staring contest. You internally cursed at breaking first. 

“He’s harmless.” You muttered, pouring another serving of wine. Moving your body kept you distracted from the unspoken. 

“Harmless?” The man scoffed, inebriation heavy in his inflection.“The scum of a pirate walked—well, crawled really—out of here with nothing but a bloody promise of a slow death.” 

You remained light and playful as you finished the conversation, distracting your regular enough to slip away. You made your rounds just as Sanji had, but you were clever to dance around him, avoid him. 

It worked at first, but it only aggravated Sanji. He spoke loudly and boldly about the well-known service, slipping in insults and intentionally sabotaging everything you’d just smoothed out. It may not have been intentional. It rarely was if you thought about it, his disappointment reserved for Zeff. 

It was as though Sanji had tunnel vision. His upset became yours conscious or not, as every complaint and move he made contradicted yours. It made you trip and stumble. It began to make the night agonizingly slow as he became the barrier between you and the end of the service.  

You’d boiled over, pulling harshly on his arm until you both crammed into a blindspot of the rest of the restaurant. 

Sanji’s eyes blew wide, but his smirk only widened. Even in his state of mild shock, his mind wandered. “What are you—  

You straightened his tie harshly, a threat. “Fix your attitude.” 

“Mine?” He countered with disbelief. “If Zeff understood—

“I don’t care about Zeff. I don’t care about you.” You hissed, pushing a finger deep into his chest. Slowly your composure was unraveling, but you regained it quickly, speaking pointedly, “What I care about is this night being over.”

Sanji took the beat of silence to look between your eyes. You were frazzled, your collectedness hanging on by a thread. He could guess why, but you’d never admit he was correct. 

“Are you even listening?” You prompted again, ready to move back with utter impatience. 

However, Sanji touched the wrist that was within distance causing your body to freeze.  “You need ice.”

His hold was gentle, but he felt the heat come from the swelling. The pain was catching up to you. 

“Enough.” You spat, wobbling with your steps backward. “Enough of—” Tonight, you wanted to say. The kindness threw you off, made you feel seen in a way you wouldn’t accept. “Just—

“We’ll finish the night smoothly.” Sanji spoke evenly, decidedly for the both of you. “Then, I’ll find ice for you.” 

Your chin raised for your childness to surface. “I can take care of myself.” 

“I have no doubt.” Sanji felt his emotions settle on his face, the smirk was hard to call on, but the air had become too tense not to with such unfamiliar territory. “But yet, If I don’t help you, you’ll milk it for weeks and I’ll never hear the end of it.”

[elaratyrell]

Jealousy {Modern! HOTD x Fem! Reader}

Includes Aemond, Aegon & Jacaerys

*All images found on Pinterest* *Divider from firefly graphics*

Warnings: Darkish themes, possessive behaviour, fears of cheating, teasing, edging, public sex, hair pulling, Aegon gets handsy

*Not proof read*

Aemond

Aemond trusts you and the love that you have for him. If you manage to break down his walls, earn his trust and his love, then of course he's not going to doubt you and your intentions.

However, he still has his insecurities. You constantly assure him that he is the most handsome man you have ever met, but he still often views himself as a monster. He finds himself thinking that if you met someone who did not have his hang-ups, his scarring... if you met someone better, that love you have for him could be put into question. He didn't want to have these thoughts, but he couldn't stop it either.

Despite Aemond's rather stoic demeanour, he also has an incredibly volatile temper, one that can erupt to the surface at any moment. So when he sees some perfectly handsome guy with a great smile, a relaxed demeanour and two perfectly functioning eyes flirting with you, it's only a matter of time before he... snaps

He observes from a distance at first, watching how you react to the man's advances, straining to hear what he's saying to you, how he steps closer to you. If he lays a hand on you, Aemond will be at your side in an instant

As he watches the man's poor attempt at flirting with you, his frustration will grow, and he'll eventually walk over you both, standing behind you with his hands clasped behind his back, staring down the man with a burning gaze. If that doesn't deter him, he'll make several cutting comments about him, ignoring any disapproving frown you send his way. He'll intentionally refer to you as his girlfriend rather than your name, his chest pressed right against your back.

If your unwanted admirer still doesn't back down, well, prepare to be dragged to the nearest bathroom stall. Usually Aemond would prefer a little more privacy, he's not as shameless as Aegon and thinks of himself as having a little more self control, but when it comes to you? That all goes out the window.

He'll have you facing the wall, your palms pressed against the cool tiles as he hikes up your skirt and roughly pulls your underwear down to your knees, circling achingly slow circles on your clit. He wants you to beg for him, wants the idiot who flirted with you to hear you, to know who you truly belong to.

He'll draw you to tears with the number of times he'll draw you teeteringly close to the edge before pulling away, leaving you soaked with desire for him and pleading with him to give you that release you're yearning for.

When he's satisfied with your begging, he'll fist one hand into your hair, the other clamped down on your waist, holding you in place as he sheaths himself into you. He won't be gentle, thrusting into you at a relentless place, not bothering to cover your mouth to muffle the string of moans and gasp that'll slip through your lips as he brings you closer and closer to the edge, your scalp almost burning at grip he has on your hair.

His hold on your waist will be bruising, occasionally sliding upwards to roll a hardened nipple between his fingers through the fabric of your dress or downwards to toy with your clit again. When you eventually do cum, he'll hold you securely against him, revelling in the way you tremble against him, your body covered with a thin sheen of sweat, makeup slightly smudged and chest heaving with deep breaths.

He'll smirk, simply pulling your panties up and your skirt back down, lips tracing feather light kiss along your shoulder and up your throat before coming to rest against your ear. You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he speaks.

"Don't think this is far from over, love. I'm just getting started..."

Aegon

Aegon's jealousy stems from his insecurity of feeling unloved and unwanted his whole life. He was the fuck up of the family after all.

He doesn't think you can do better than him, he knows you can do better than him, that it was entirely plausible for someone to come along and sweep you off your feet.

He won't show these insecurities. Not in front of the other guy, that is. That's something to discuss with you later... maybe...

The length to which Aegon will go to deter this person will vary depending on how much he's been drinking. If he's feeling jealous, it's likely to be a decent amount.

If he's in the early stages of the relationship with you, he might try and little tit for tat, flirting with the first girl he sees and constantly looking over to see if you've noticed. It'll escalate into a fight, likely, one that he shrugs off to mask his fear of losing you.

If you're a little further into the relationship, he'll walk- or stagger- over to you, tossing an arm over your shoulders and pressing a rather over exaggerated kiss to your neck and cheek.

He'll get a little handsy, his hand grabbing your waist, your hip, your ass. He'll even grope at your tit if he's feeling shameless enough.

It'll likely escalate into a full on make out session in front of whoever's flirting with you, hands groping your ass as he pressed you against the bar counter.

His inappropriate behaviour and intoxicated state resulting in you grabbing his hand and dragging him outside to take him home. He's in no state to talk that night, but will be tugging at your clothes and pressing a line of sloppy kisses down your neck as you unlock the door to your apartment.

If he's drunk enough, he'll slur out his feelings, his jealousy, his insecurities. He wants to be loved, but he's never truly experienced it before.

Just stroke his hair and take care of him. He will still try to get handsy with you, creeping along your thigh and under your skirt.

Tomorrow, sit down and talk with him. Assure him that he's who you want, who you love, and that he's worthy of that. And hey, if it ends with you straddling his waist, your hips rolling against his and hands threaded through his platinum tresses as you show him how much you love him, what's he to complain about?

Jacaerys

Now Jace here is the one you need to watch out for the most. He trusts you completely, but that's not where the issue lies. Because while he's not as insecure as Aegon or as cruel as Aemond, but he has got a temper. And he's protective as fuck.

It borders on possessive, how he watches you like a hawk. In his mind, he watching out for you like your knight in shining armour. He doesn't trust the people here. What if he turns away and someone tries to take advantage of you?

He, like Aemond, may watch from a safe distance at first, but Jace lacks the patience to stand there idly, and he'll be beside you soon enough.

He'll glare at whoever's flirting with you, his jaw clenched and hands balled into fists.

He'll tell the guy to back off, to realise you're in a relationship. He won't be as cutting as Aemond with his words, he'll say it politely enough (at first), but there'll be a slight strain to his voice as he speaks through gritted teeth.

The best thing to do is take his hand in yours, or rest a hand on his arm. Your touch immediately relaxes him somewhat, reassuring him that you're there for him. It might also encourage him to try a little more to keep a lid on things.

He's the most likely to get physical against the other guy. You saw how he was with Baela and Aegon. He will swing a punch if the guy refuses to respect you, your boundaries or your relationship, and he won't hesitate or think twice about it.

Despite being the most likely to lose his temper, he's also the easiest to resolve things with since he's so secure with you. He doesn't need reassurance that you won't leave him, just that you're there for him in that moment.

You'll pull him away to somewhere more quiet and private so he can cool off. Even if he doesn't punch anyone, he's going to be riled up and needs to calm down.

As you hold him, your fingers running through his curls, he'll slowly relax. His breathing becomes less ragged, his trembling will cease, your touch calming him down.

He'll probably be the only one out of these three to willing talk about how he's feeling without being prompted into it by you. He promises that he'll try to keep a better control of his temper, and he will try, but it will happen again.

For now, the argument's settled, and he can enjoy spending the rest of his night with you, whether that's heading back to his place to enjoy it in privacy or head back into the party, his hand firmly planted on your waist as you hang out with Cregan or Rhaena and Baela, a small smirk on his face at his triumph over the stranger.

More often than not, you'll end the night pinned beneath him on the bed, your head thrown back in pleasure as he shows you exactly why you're with him, the flirtatious stranger from earlier all but a forgotten memory in your mind.

Tag List:

@watercolorskyy @jacesvelaryons

If you wanted to be added to the general HOTD taglist or taglists for specific character/s, just let me know

Masterlist

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Wait imagine our girl and Eris getting closer and something happens that he has to put on his Heir of the Autumn Court face and not be mean, but maybe distant and cold to her? And she’s like nah I’ve seen this movie before and they have a big angsty moment alone about it and the next time he has to have that face, he includes her with him?

I am in love with your series, it’s all I think about 😭

Loved this request so much that I had to write it ASAP - the first time Y/N encountered Eris at a cross-court function after their initial hook up. A little bit different from your request but I hope you’ll enjoy it nevertheless.

Bad Idea, Right? Prequel

Headcanon

Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter

The second meeting between reader and Eris.

Part 7 - Part 7.5 - Part 8

Warnings: Language, Smut, MDNI, not proofread

Y/N

- She felt his presence before she saw him. His scent invading her nostrils from across the throne room.

-He was walking her way. His face drawn tight, eyes intense yet unreadable. His power rolled off of him. Oh, he was on full display tonight. The fiery heir of Autumn who’d slain his own father.

- Her heart raced as he grew closer. The tension between them palpable. Could anyone else sense it? She should shy away, look somewhere else but her eyes were fixated on only him. She was the magnet to his metal.

-Was he going to say something to her? Take her hand and whisk her into a dance? What were his intentions in this show of pomp and circumstance?

-She couldn’t bare the thought of her family seeing them together. It would be so complicated but even more so, she couldn’t flee. Damn them all if he pulled her into his orbit, who was she to refuse?

- He was steps away. Her heart beat in her throat. Her shadows begging to pull him closer

-Two more steps.

- The High Lord’s cold expression only turned cruel, calculating, as his nose turned up, lip curling. A sneer in her direction before his deep, gravely tone spat. “Little Shadowsinger.” as if she were nothing more than dirt on his shoe.

- She kept her expression flat. She knew that mask. She’d seen variants of it countless times in the court of nightmares with her own family. Her heart cracked slightly though she’d never let him see.

-She was stupid to think that he was different. She’d never allow herself to be so vulnerable toward him again.

——————

Eris

- He felt her heartbeat racing through the bond as he neared her

- He shouldn’t have walked her way but he couldn’t resist. He needed to be near her if only for a moment.

-Fuck, what was he doing? He needed to keep his distance.

-It was too late, he couldn’t change direction now. It would be too obvious to the plethora of attendees with their eyes fixated on him.

-He couldn’t put her at risk like that. Couldn’t let anyone sus out the way his heart longed for her. The way that bond pulled her near.

-And her, she was so young. Had so much to experience. It killed him, he wanted nothing more than to sweep her into his embrace, kiss her softly and whisper to her that she was his. HIS. His mate.

-The primal desire urging him to spend weeks holed up with her, taking her on every surface in his castle. Seat her on his throne as he took to his knees between her soft, supple thighs.

-Wanted to whisper how long he’d waited for her. How he could care for her in ways she’d never dreamt of. Would give her the life he never thought possible until his father had been taken out of the picture.

-No, he couldn’t. Not yet.

-He’d waited this long. He could wait longer.

-It gutted him to sneer at her but he couldn’t risk her being targeted. Couldn’t risk someone sensing this one-sided bond and using her against him. Someone harming her.

——————

Y/N

-She was humiliated. She decided then and there that she would never be at his mercy again.

-He was just another arrogant High Lord, no different than any other nobility.

-She spent the rest of the evening in her shadows. There was no enjoying this function, just another odious show of power between courts.

-As the night wound down and all the noise became too much, she shrouded herself in shadow, exploring the silent corridors of the keep.

-Warm hands grabbed her. How he sensed her, she had no clue.

- “Get the fuck off of me, Eris”

- “Little shadowsinger, are you not happy to see me?”

- “Your whereabouts are of no concern to me.”

- “Are you certain? Your sweet scent and that pretty fluttering pulse told me otherwise”

- “Fuck you.”

- “My pleasure.” He crooned. “Crashing his lips into hers”

- Fuck, he felt so good. So good pushing her into an empty study. So fucking good groaning underneath her as she bounced on his thick cock. Filling her, stretching her in the perfect mix of pain and pleasure.

-She felt powerful as he wholly submitted to her. Her shadows binding him. Gagging him so that pretty mouth wouldn’t spew anymore ugly words.

-She would never let herself feel powerless against him again.

-No, he was hers to take when and how she pleased.

-And she knew he’d love every fucking second of it.

——————

Eris

-She was so fucking beautiful taking her pleasure from him.

-So fucking beautiful as her face contorted into that of ecstasy, only taking what she wanted. Those full, mouth-watering breasts bouncing as she rode him into oblivion.

-Her lovely moans filled the room, a symphony just for him. The song of his Shadowsinger.

-He would give her anything. Anything at all that she wanted to take from him.

-And someday, someday decades or centuries from now, she’d wear that mask of power with him. The mask of his High Lady. The true powerhouse of his court.

-Until then, he’d take whatever she’d offer him and ask for nothing more.

——————————————————-

Tags: @b0xerdancer-writes @myheartfollower @ang-taylorsversion @acotarobsessed @uniquecolorwizard @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thelov3lybookworm @starryhiraeth @5moremin @azrielsmate3 @coolepowersthings @isa1b2h3 @inloveallthetime @julesofvolterra @deeshag @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @courtofbatboydreams

Sorry for tagging you all in two posts in one day. Some days the creative juices flow a little too strongly.

[sarahs-library]

Come to Solstice with me? Part Two

Through a series of miscommunications, Azriel's family is under the impression that you're more than friends. Playing along seems like the most reasonable course of action, right?

Part One 

Word Count: 1700

Warnings: None

Your POV

You sighed, surveying the destruction of your bedroom. Drawers pulled out; wardrobe doors open with clothes littering every available surface. You’d already shoved more clothes than you would possibly need over the next few days into a bag, along with half the contents of your bathroom counters, but you felt as though you were forgetting something. Another bag sat on the table in your living room, this one full of brightly wrapped gifts that you’d spent the last few days hunting down.

You ran through your mental list again as you ticked off the necessities you’d need for your few days away in the Night Court. You planned to pack for every possible occasion, familiar with Rhys’ ostentatiousness. You eyed a particularly provocative dress hanging against one of the wardrobe doors, a treat to yourself purchased decades ago that you’d got on a whim and never had a chance to wear. It could barely be considered a dress, with its thigh-high slits, plunging neckline, and missing back you’d never felt comfortable wearing it to any of the functions you’d attended here in the Day Court. But it was certainly a dress that wouldn’t be out of place in Rhys’ Court of Nightmares. You added it to the bag before heading to the chest of drawers to begin digging through your undergarments to try to find something that you could wear underneath it.

A throat cleared behind you. Turning quickly, fists full of brightly coloured lace, you took in Azriel standing on the threshold to your living room. He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe as he took in the chaos of your bedroom. Hazel eyes tracked the trail of destruction you’d left before settling on you, flickering over the lingerie that hung from your fingers before settling on your face. He quirked a dark eyebrow at you, plump lips curling in a small smirk.

“You’re early.” You huffed, moving back towards the bed to dump the contents of your hands into the bag. You pressed everything down as you attempted to close the zipper.

“We said ten,” Azriel’s steps were slow and deliberate as he crossed the threshold into your bedroom, the thud of his heavy boots softened slightly by the thick carpet. You saw him stop at the edge of the bed out of the corner of your eye. “It’s three minutes past.” You couldn’t help rolling your eyes. This close you could hear the squeak of his tight leathers as he bent down, a scarred hand adorned with a siphon edged into vision as he plucked something off the floor.

“You missed one.” You turned to look at him as he stood, hand outstretched as a particularly risqué pair of cobalt panties hung from his index finger. You snatched them from his grip, face burning as you shoved them into the depths of the bag. You finished wrestling with the zip. “I like the colour.”

You grabbed the bag by the handles and faced Azriel again. His imposing stature and wings, talons almost brushing the ceiling, made the room feel smaller than it did moments before. You shoved the bag towards him, closed fist hitting the tight muscles of his abdomen. He reached to take the bag, his mask of faux seriousness breaking into a small smile at your reaction to his taunting.

“It’s not too late for me to make other plans,” you warned as he retreated from the bedroom. He scoffed as you followed him out, doing one last check before closing the bedroom door. Azriel made to grab the other bag on the table, shadows already writhing over the wrapped packages that poked out.

“Hey!” They retreated as you huffed. “That’s not in the Solstice spirit.” Azriel had the good grace to look sheepish as he reigned the shadows in. He shifted both bags into one hand as he offered the other to you. You closed the distance between you, gripping his bicep through the warm leather and you linked your arms together. Shadows coiled over your feet and up your legs as the world warped and you disappeared through the darkness.

Azriel’s grip on you was firm as your feet hit the manicured grass outside the River House. Frost coated the blades, crunching under your feet as you found your balance. You could smell the brine of the sea as it drifted in from where the Sidra met the wide expanse of the ocean.

The House was bright, pale fae lights adorning the alcoves of the windows. You knew if you turned towards the city you’d find the residences there similarly decorated, the ones nearest the Rainbow were always the most spectacular, boasting outlandish colour combinations and ambitious structures. You couldn’t wait to see how the city looked after the sun had set.

The front door opened revealing Rhys, followed closely by Feyre who carried a wiggling Nyx in her arms. Their smiles were warm and welcoming as they descended the steps to meet you. You released Azriel’s arm from your vice grip, moving forward to pull Rhys into an embrace and brush your lips to his cheek in greeting.

“We’re so happy that you could join us, Y/N.” Rhys gestured as he spoke, and the bags in Azriel’s hands disappeared.

You turned to Feyre, repeating the gesture before letting Nyx grab hold of the hand you’d had around his mother. He squeezed his fist around two of your fingers and gifted you with a smile, chubby cheeks flush in the cool air. You couldn’t help smiling back at the young heir as he waved his fist in the air, allowing him to drag your hand along with it.  

“Thank you both for inviting me, it’ll be just like old times.” You’d spent many a Solstice in the Night Court before the war, before Amarantha, after you’d struck up a friendship with the Inner Circle. Travels for your thesis had brought you to the doors of the library at the House of Wind, where the priestesses there had offered such hospitality while you worked towards the mammoth task. Mor had invited you out to drinks one evening on a whim after finding you surrounded by dusty tomes, sitting on the floor on one of the lower levels. You’d fallen into an easy friendship with the rest of them after that. Though the war and the loss of your family had driven you further into your work, into the pleasure of your solitude, you were excited at the prospect of spending time with old friends over the festive period.

“Shall we?” Rhys inclined his head towards the House as he began climbing the stairs. Feyre fell into step beside you, Azriel on your other side, close enough that your arms brushed with each step.

“I’m planning on doing some last-minute shopping,” Feyre leaned closer as she spoke, her voice low as she eyed her husband’s back. “Do you want to join me?” You’d already hunted down gifts for everybody but doing a bit of window shopping, with a hot chocolate wandering the streets of Velaris, sounded very appealing.

“That’d be nice.”

“Great, Rhys and I have a meeting with Clotho soon. We’ll go after lunch?” You nodded as the High Lady eyed you, a wry grin on her face. “I can’t wait to catch up with you, it seems we have a lot to talk about.” You weren’t entirely sure what she could mean, nothing much had changed in your life since your last visit. You didn’t say that though, just continued up the steps and into the foyer of the House. The inside was already beautifully decorated, with a large tree in pride of place in the living room next to the fireplace. You’d expected to find the House bustling with people as the family converged for the holidays, but it was quiet as you entered.

“Would you both mind watching Nyx for us?”

“Of course not.” You shrug as Feyre sets him down gently with a kiss; watching as he totters, tiny wings flaring with each step, towards a play mat in the living room laid out with brightly coloured wooden toys. You moved to follow him, but Rhys words stopped you.

“I sent your bags to Az's room; he can show you where it is.” Your brows furrow in confusion as you look at Rhys. You were about to open your mouth, about to offer to find other accommodation in the city if room was so tight here that you’d have to share, when Azriel's hand slipped into your own. He squeezed gently, callouses rubbing against the softer skin of your palms as he laced your fingers together. You looked at your hand clasped with his at your side, before following it up to look at his face. He purposely avoided your gaze as he locked eyes with his brother and nodded.

“We’ll see you in a few hours.” His hand squeezed yours again as you tried to school the shock on your features. He turned to face you, his features softer and more affectionate than you expected them to be. “It’ll be nice to play with Nyx for a bit, right sweetheart?” But his eyes were pleading, urging you to play along with whatever strange situation you’d found yourself in.

“Right, yes.” You tried to smile back at him with the same level of emotion. You felt heat rush to your cheeks as he held your gaze. Clearing your throat, you looked away. Back towards where the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court watched you both intently. Rhys’ eyes darted between you both playfully as he smirked. Years of friendship braced you for a suggestive comment, but none came as Feyre squeezed his arm, unspoken words passing between them. A moment later they both disappeared.

Wrenching your hand from Azriel’s grip you backed away from him.

“What the-" fuck, Azriel? You cut yourself off before you finished the sentence, eyes catching on the toddler engrossed in his toys mere feet in front of you. Azriel held his hands up in placation.

“I can explain.”  

A/N - I'm hoping to have part three out next week, but I think it's unlikely I'll get this finished by the new year so it might have to run into January.

[gnomishcunning]

bg3 companion camp habits

ft. astarion, karlach, wyll, shadowheart, lae'zel, gale & halsin

Astarion

earliest to bed, earliest to rise. it leaves more time to sneak around at night. unfortunately for him that means lae'zel has him on hunting duty, in order to find something substantial for dinner the next day.

insures team tadpole camps within walking distance of some source of running water. if not running water, a lake; if not a lake, a pond. after tagging around with tav all day and coming home covered in blood, his daily soaks are sacred

despite actually not needing to sleep, his tent is the cushiest in camp: his bedroll is piled high with luxurious furs and silken pillows

trances with curlers in his hair. that coif doesn't maintain itself y'know, as much as astarion would like you to think it does

Karlach

her tent is open-air in order to reduce the likelihood she catches it on fire overnight

simultaneously a super-light sleeper while retaining the the ability to fall asleep within five minutes in any given environment, on any given surface. ten years in avernus have honed those survival instincts into a sharp edge, and she can be up and ready to brawl in an instant

banned from contributing to dinner on account of infernal taste buds: the amount of chili powder she'd added to the group soup that one time almost killed shadowheart and made astarion get the night sweats for the first time in 200 years

her contributions to camp including anything involving copious amounts of hot water. unfortunately, this usually has her stuck on laundry duty with halsin

Wyll

next to halsin and karlach, wyll's the most comfortable camping in the wilderness on a day-to-day basis. seven years as the blade of the frontiers meant wandering the sword coast looking for monsters, and not all of that was near civilization

crippling addiction to tea. picks up local varieties at every settlement the party passes through; it's what you see him swirling in that silver cup of his night to night.

while gale's in charge of dinner, wyll's in charge of breakfast. he's got a carafe of coffee on the fire when people start to rise, and there's always a pan of something delicious-smelling and ready to dish out by the time someone manages to wake up halsin.

he's had that ripped-up crop top he sleeps in since his teens, and it's been worth to that point of sweet age-soft. he has trouble sleeping in anything else at this point

Shadowheart

doesn't need as much sleep to function at full capacity the next day: she's perfectly fine on five or six hours. whether that's a lucky genetic twist of shadowheart's genetic heritage or a blessing of shar is anyone's guess - this usually has her as the second one awake

tends to volunteer for first watch and uses that time to pray

has a bit of a second sense for finding good campsites: places with highly defensible positions, a fresh water source, carefully tucked into the shadows of natural glades or high rocks

has one of the more elaborate hair routines in the group, second only to astarion's curl-care. she and the vampire spawn have a silent agreement to assist with setup and share haircare products when necessary.

Lae'zel

self-assigned camp commander (not camp mom - astarion tried to make a snide comment once and was glared down). her militaristic upbringing has left her the only one with enough organizational skills to insure the motley crew of team tadpole don't accidentally starve themselves to death in the wilderness

keeps an exacting inventory of what they have on hand, from food to spell-scrolls and spare socks and tadpoles in brain-jars, must to her chagrin. anything taken from the traveler's chest must be noted so she can keep track of what the team needs

created a chore chart. the chore chart is holy. it plays to everyone's strengths and evenly distributes labor. astarion once tried to fuck with it: he was left doing his own laundry for a week, much to his chagrin

as much as she'd like to brag about githyanki endurance, she requires an exacting eight hours of sleep to function. the rest of team tadpole insures she gets it, since nobody likes a grumpy githyanki

Gale

self-assigned camp cook within days of joining team tadpole. to his surprise, lae'zel completely agreed

has a few cookbooks stacked among the piles of literature around his tent, including a dog-eared recipe book from mama dekarios. his travel spice-rack was an additional gift from her as well, one he covets with all his heart.

could care less about his lion's mane and mostly resolves to slicking it back with whatever oil or grease they have on-hand first thing in the morning, but takes exacting care of his beard

has a bad tendency to stay up too late sleeping, and is subsequently the last one to rise first thing in the morning\

Halsin

doesn't even bother to set up his tent half the time, perfectly willing to spend the night in bear form. this has caused some confusion first thing in the morning when an actual bear wandered into camp one morning and wyll greeted it warmly, much to halsin's amusement

will grow goodberries to add to the morning's oatmeal or pancakes; secret weakness for coffee

tends to tackle laundry duty with karlach, mostly since the giant mountain of a druid is the best at actually toting mountains of blood-spoiled linens across camp.

assists with hunting duties, even if the meat he tends to bring backs is a little more roughed up compared to astarion's exsanguinated prey

bonus:

Tav

group oddball, usually ends up doing whatever odd chore lae'zel assigns them

unofficially in-charge of campfire entertainment, including breaking up fights between lae'zel and shadowheart over go-fish, or insuring astarion doesn't cheat during poker

the camp keeps meaning to buy them a tent. they never do. tav's been crashing around the campfire since the beginning, and they only actually get a tent once they have a significant other

not allowed to assist with dinner since the Noodle IncidentTM

[casualsnickers]

all my homies hate rendering rocks

this went from being an anatomy check to a full-blown reference sheet that took over a week to finish. i really wanted to make a solid guide for drawing my pmd oc that followed function over aesthetic and thusly, this monstrosity of a canvas was born.

there's a ton of info that the sheet references but doesn't fully explain so i'll add it below in case anybody is interested

*Written from the perspective of a pokemon researcher*

Arms & Legs: variant's limbs are very similar to the Feraligatr/ Totodile lineage but with more flexibility than the Kantonian species. variant can move on all fours but they cannot run or sprint while doing so. leaping is fine. variant has a running gait most similar to the Archeops lineage. variant also has an opposable thumb on each appendage but it is mostly used for climbing and grasping onto cliff faces.

Face: variant observed to have varying facial structures; vast majority tend to have gently sloping muzzles with forward-facing eyes. horns are a good indicator of inherited nature, but they do not seem to serve a purpose (?)

Eyes: variant tends to have poor eyesight; males live almost entirely underground- females occasionally go onto the surface to establish territory so their vision is ever-so-slightly better. variant has superb night vision and also possess a third eyelid.

Mouth: variant developed a set of teeth for grabbing and tearing. females possess a full set of canines (presumably due to matriarchal setup) and all teeth are serrated. rotten flesh and leftover food sticks around in the mouth; bites almost always become infected.

Sounds/Cry: a low, rumbling, growling sound is typical; no growling but can hiss (spitting has only been observed once). sound travels for a far distance.

Temperament: hostile (?) males will investigate but never attack; females will attack without hesitation. variant demonstrates crepuscular traits (active during dawn, dusk, and possibly during moody weather).

Skin/Ability: variant has dry skin/scales. variant has been observed to expel steam and flames through their tail and vertebral spines. heat is not enough to sustain a burn unless incredibly agitated. "scales" along face and back appear to be cosmetic and have been observed to be used for defense. can easily be broken off.

Tail: variant's tail can be detached in the same way a Kecleon can; an extinguished tail flame does not immediately kill the variant like the Kantonian species due to channeling pores located beside the vertebral spines.

Dimorphism: males have black scales and females have dark brown scales; shiny offspring are incredibly pale (white to golden in color regardless of gender). females are larger than males and also have longer horns, tails, and bigger limbs. only females possess saber-like canines.

Diet: variant is an omnivore and cannot seem to properly digest berries and/or plants. variant has been observed to consume stones, slag, and various minerals

[tinydefector]

Till all are one

The fic I did for the poll I did a few days ago because I wanted to make some angst for optimus.

I will do another poll in the future, and my poll fics are mainly going to be my own ideas for characters outside of the request.

Word count: 3k

Warning: fluffy, angst, death of reader

Optimus Prime x Human

Optimus prime Masterlist

____________

Soft eyes watch Optimus from a distance as he sits outside helm tilted towards the stars, blue optics glowing in the darkness of night, the deep whirl and clicking of his mechanic can be heard.

Optimus' optical sensors slowly dimmed offline as weighted thoughts drifted through his mind. The stars above shone as they had on that distant world so long ago, yet their familiar patterns could not dull the ache in his spark. 

Their steps crunch the dirt and grass as they walk to join him, not wanting to alarm him they call out. "Can't sleep?" His audials detected soft footfalls nearby, Turning. He was unsurprised to find his small human friend joined him under the night sky. The human ask while moving to sit on the bolder beside Optimus, and they shoot him a soft smile. "What's on your mind, Optimus?" The familiar face drew the faintest smile across his own face as he rumbled softly, "Rest eludes me, it seems."

Gazing once more to the glittering heavens, he vented slowly. "Cybertron. My home. So much has changed since last I walked her metallic plains and gazed upon the gleaming Towers of Iacon. I never thought such little time on earth would make me miss home so much. I miss my mentor. " Memories flickered of mentors, friends, comrades, all lost to vorns of conflict. 

"Codexa," he said quietly, almost to himself. "My teacher, my guide. I find myself wondering if I honour her teachings as I should or have strayed too far down my own path." His optics glowed faintly as ages-old lessons warred with the grim demands of war. Some burdens, it seemed, even starlight could not lift, nor ease his aching spark.

Their eyes linger on him for a moment. "Your mentor? I don't think I've ever heard you talk about a mentor, I thought you bots were just kinda built ready to fight, " they state while watching him. They watch the way his optics flicker to different stars. He looks tired, almost sad.

Optimus glanced down at his companion, realizing he'd never spoken to them of his earlier life. "It is true most Cybertronians are functionally programmed from the moment of sparking," he rumbled quietly. "But for those who aspired to roles beyond the norm, mentorship was invaluable." 

Memories of those long-ago days surfaced once more as he spoke. "Codexa was an archivist, one who chronicled our world's history and shared knowledge with all who sought it. When I expressed interest in governance and diplomacy, she took me as her protégé and taught me much of what it means to lead. She taught me so much"

A smile ghosted his faceplates as small details came back to him. "She had a way with words. She believed the surest path to peace was understanding other perspectives. Some days, i wonder if that's the reason she became one with Cybertron. " His tone grew distant. 

"Without her guidance, i wouldn't be who I am today, I fear many mistakes were made during the war, made by my own hands . All I can do now is try to follow the wisdom she instilled." His optics rose once more to the stars, as if searching for answers among their eternal patterns.

"What was she like?, she sounds rather sweet if your her protege."

Optimus vented softly at the memory of her. "Codexa possessed a kind and patient spark. Nothing gave her greater joy than helping others, whether through sharing knowledge or lending an audio in times of need."

A faint smile warmed his stoic features. "She was taller than most Archivists, with plating the shining silver-blue of circuitry filaments. And her optics... like pools of molten mercury, taking in all yet revealing little of her own depths. She had a way of listening with her entire being."

"She was taller than you?" They ask with a tilted head.

"She was much taller than me. I only reached the top of her chassis." he chuckles softly. His gaze grew distant as scenes from long ago played across his memory files. "Codexa saw value in all. It grieved her to see our world so divide." 

Slowly, Optimus turned to them. Venting softly, "I miss her a lot. But taking her teachings to spark helps, but i miss her voice. However dark it may sometimes seem, she always knew how to solve things."

They move slowly, hoping from the rock to his knee plating, pulling themself up as they stand there, hands moving to press softly against his faceplate. "You can't change the past Optimus, learn from it, don't repeat it. Humans sadly haven't learnt that, we are on the verge of another war between ourselves too. So all I can say is, once the war for your planet is over, help others learn from the mistakes you made. You can't grow without mistakes" they state while smiling at him softly. It makes Optimus spark clench, they reminded him to much of so many their wisdom of Codexa, love for what they did reminded him of senator Shockwave and their spirit and drive reminded him of Megatron from before the war.

Optimus' optics glowed warmly as small hands offered what comfort they could against the ache of loss and regret. He lifted a great servo, cradling their slight form with utmost care.

"You speak wisdom far beyond your years, little one. My kind would do well to heed such counsel one day." His rumbling voice held an edge of solemn promise. "When at last this long war ends, i would be honoured to show you Cybertron as you have earth." He states softly, Gazing down at their upturned face, Optimus saw reflections of dear ones lost but never forgotten Codexa's compassion, Shockwave's vision of unity, Megatron's original desire to lift all from oppression. And he took comfort, knowing such virtues lived on through those who carried them in spark, no matter the shell. 

"Thank you," he said softly. The two lay together on the dry grass as they looked up at the stars together. "You see that cluster of stars, that's the southern Cross, and that one there is Leo major, and Leo minor," they state while slowly pointing out different consolations. Optimus listened intently as small fingers traced constellations across the sweeping tapestry above. Though his database contained information on Earth's night skies, somehow, the guided tour felt different, more intimate.

"Fascinating," he rumbled softly. "The patterns you organics can discern amongst them is similar to our own." Slowly, his arm rose, a single digit extended to gently point. "And that collection there - if I am not mistaken, you call it Orion. Its placement near your winter skies is fitting."  His voice, though deep, held a gentle warmth matched in the faint bluish glow emanating from his massive frame. Looking down at his small companion, he vented softly.

"Yea, that Orion belt didn't think you would know that one," they giggle as they lay their head against his chassis. Listening to the soft lure of his spark, a soft rumble of laughter emanated from Optimus' chest as he looked down at their silly delight. "Indeed, that particular constellation carries significance beyond mere astronomical fact," he said, tone warming with fond memory.

"When first I underwent the Ceremony of Namegiving as an initiate in the Halls of Iacon, Codexa guided my attention there, to the mighty hunter eternally aiming bow across the galaxy." One massive finger drew graceful lines to connect the three bright stars. 

His optics dimmed briefly in solemn remembrance of his dear mentor and the young innocence of those long-ago days. But gazing once more to the stars, he continued gently, "So in a sense I know the great hunter well, Orion was my namesake and guide, my first gift from Codexa.” Their eyes widen, and their mouth opens slightly in shock before they utter lightly. "She named you, Orion?" They ask ever so softly while looking up into his optics.

Optimus gazed down at the small form nestled against his chestplates, surprise and gentle understanding in his optics. "Indeed, Orion Pax was the name given me by Codexa on the orn of my emergence, as is Cybertronian tradition," he replied in a quiet rumble. 

His massive digits moved to tenderly cradle their slighter form, radiating comfort. "It has been many stellar cycles since I walked under that designation. But some part of that young archivist's spark remains within this frame, however changed by war and duty."

"Hunter of peace, how fitting," they hum softly, listening to the gentle pulse of his spark.

"Indeed," he rumbled softly. "Codexa saw potential where others did not." Optics gazing skyward once more, he traced with one finger the outline of that eternal hunter taking aim. "Perhaps in naming me Orion, she sensed her teachings would carry through the stellar cycles - that I would become not only a warrior, but a guardian of peace, a seeker of understanding among all peoples."  

Venting softly, his field radiated quietly. "It is a legacy I strive to honour through each choice and action. However, the tides of war may seem to turn."

"Orion, I believe in you, I know its not much from a human, but I know some day you'll get to see Cybertron in her glory once again, maybe not the same but you'll get to go home one day I can feel it in my bones" they hum softly.

Optimus' optics glowed with gratitude at the simple yet earnest words of support from his dear friend. "Your faith means more to this old warrior than you can know," he rumbled softly. 

Massive fingers traced gentle patterns against their back as his field radiated warmth. "Through vorns of conflict, it has often been the courage and compassion of smaller souls." he leans down and presses a soft kiss to their forehead. Gazing once more to the starry sky stretching peacefully and eternal above, he vented quietly. "Some stellar cycles, the dream of Cybertron healed, seem remote as those distant lights. But you give me hope."

Slowly, a hint of smile tipped his stoic faceplates. "And perhaps, when that orn comes to pass swiftly, you and yours shall witness its splendour of my own planet”

their prediction was true. He had made it back to Cybertron. New Cybertron. Yet it left him feeling hollow. That memory plays over in his mind often. Their smile, eyes filled with so much hope, hope for a world they never got to see. So close yet so far away. He holds their cold body as he walks the long trails to the heart of Cybertron. To where Codexa and the shines of others he had lost.

Each silent footfall fell heavy as the aged mechanism whined as they carried Optimus through the gleaming, unfamiliar canyons of New Cybertron. Though his optics beheld grandeur rebuilt from eons of ruin, within only emptiness echoed. 

He reached the sanctuary composed of monument and memorial. Gently, with infinite care and sorrow, Optimus laid his precious burden at the base beside so many others given in sacrifice. Small fingers, long since stilled.

He knelt beside the slight form, optics dimming as memory files surged forth - of shared worlds beneath starlight, and dreams of a peace finally wrested from madness and conflict. His digits gently trace their face.

"Orion, you have come to visit me"

Codexa's voice echoes glitchy but her form doesn't move from its spot.

Orion started gently at the familiar voice resonating through the crystalline sanctuary. Turning, he beheld Codexa's shimmering form slowly coalescing from the connecting filaments, her energy signature merging into a luminous projection.

"Codexa," he replied softly, optics glowing with warmth and ache of remembered joys mingled with the vorns past. Slowly, he knelt before her luminous presence, great head bowed in respect and sorrowful remembrance.

"It has been long indeed since last we spoke," he continued gently. Lifting his gaze once more, hints of bittersweet smile ghosted his stoic faceplates. "I come only to pay respects to you and those whose lights have rejoined the Allspark, leaving this someone dear to me."

"Who do you lay with me?"

She asked softly over the figure being laid before her, the human who had passed before getting to see Cybertron in her glory.

"A dear friend who saw me through darkness you could not imagine, they mean more to me than i can put into words," rumbled Optimus gently. "One whose brief spark brought light to this weary warrior when all seemed lost, i wish they got to see Cybertron, but now this is the best i can offer them."

With infinite care and sorrow, he reached to cradle the small still form in massive servos, gazing upon stilled features. Turning optics of fading glow upward once more, he continued softly, "This one gave hope in hours where none seemed possible, helped this old soldier recall why your lessons must never fade, you would have enjoyed talking with them."

Venting softly, memory files surged of innocence resting secure in his palm so long ago. " their heart was young, within a beat of courage to out shine stars. Now decay has claimed what war and time could not. But their light, as yours, have been a gift to me"

Optimus bowed his head. His mentor's tall frame was barely more than flickering lines of code now, held intact solely by the crystal lattice connecting aged components. But through the still-functioning optics' dim glow, he sensed her familiar soothing energy fields reach out to envelop his own in quiet solace. 

"I will guard them as I have many before"

Beside Codexa's resting place, the severed halves of Senator Shockwave plating also lay shrouded by millennia, their vibrancy lost to the eons but memory intact within Optimus' archives.

Reaching out briefly to caress a crumbling digit in farewell, Optimus turned last to the slight form now cradled into eternal recharge among these guardians of his spark. Small and fragile in death as in life. Venting softly, he spoke words meant for audials long since fallen silent. "Until all are one. Rest now, beloved friends" 

His optics glowed with promise as he finished his solemn duty, then rose and turned to walk on, as always, beneath the stars shining endlessly on.

"Thank you, Carrier," he calls softly.

_________

Taglist: @angelxcvxc

[capybaraonabicycle]

How many holes does a straw have?

@i-send-you-random-asks

(asking you specifically cause i think you'd have an interesting answer)

Ohhh, yes, this is my question! Thank you, dear!

Short answer:

That depends on your definition of 'hole'. Topology says 1.

Long answer:

Since this depends on your definition of hole, I can think of 5 answers that can be rationalised and make some flavour of sense:

(@marvellouspinecone helped me with some of these a while back and might have additional info, so I am going to credit her here.)

0 holes

You can define a hole as something that makes an object broken, or at least as something you have to put into a finished object AFTER construction. This could be something like a tear in the fabric or a hole you have drilled into the 'wall' of the straw. Ergo, a functioning straw does not have any holes. It looks exactly as it was designed to be.

1 hole

This is the math answer. As said in the infamous post, a straw is 'topologically equivalent' to a torus. To be precise, it is homotopic to a torus.

First question: What is a torus?

Answer: Basically a donut. It looks like this:

[ID: image of a torus. It looks like a donut with a checkered surface. end ID]

Second question: What does 'homotopic' mean?

Answer: This is where it gets math-y technical, but in a way it means that we can continuously transform either of the objects into the other - in a nice way.

Imagine, our straw was made of super-clay: we can't rip it or glue it together at any point, but we can pull and push it together however we like, even changing its density. So we could stretch some parts to become very big and shrink others a lot. We can also bend and twist it a little.

So, we take our straw and we push it together in the direction of its length until the very long straw becomes short like a ring. And then we pull on the 'walls' to make them nice and fat and round. Tada! We have made a donut!

(We can do this in the other direction, too, pull the torus (donut) out long and then make the walls thin - then we get a straw.)

The thing about such homotopies is, they preserve the number of holes an object has. Hence, the straw has exactly as many holes as the torus (donut)!

Third question: How many holes does a torus have?

Answer: In topology, we have something called the Euler characteristic. It is a number that gets assigned to surfaces based on their properties (you can calculate it via triangulation but let's not go there.) A sphere (ball) has Euler characteristic 2. Each hole in a surface lowers the Euler characteristic by 2. The torus (is an orientable surface and) has Euler characteristic 0, so it has one hole.

(If you'd like to have the more exact explanation, it is attaching handles to a surface that reduce the Euler characteristic by 2 and add a hole. And a torus is homotopic to a sphere with one handle attached.)

Thus, a straw has one hole.

2 holes

If we define a hole as an indentation in an object that allows us (or something else) to enter a certain distance into the object, a straw has two holes. One on the top and one on the bottom.

This definition actually makes sense, since we call holes we dig into the Earth 'holes'. In the mathematic sense, they aren't, they're indentations that can (with the super clay idea) be flattened out. But with these holes we don't care about whether it will lead somewhere or just have a floor somewhere at the bottom, you can go in, so it's a hole.

If we forget about the fact that the straw leads 'one hole into the other', so like, if we were very small (or the straw very big) and we would merely walk across the outside and look into the holes, we would find two holes on the straw, one on the bottom, one on the top. If we don't enter, we wouldn't even know they were connected.

With this definition you have to be a little bit careful about when you start calling something a hole. I would reckon there needs to be a certain percentage-relation between depth of hole vs circumference of entrance to hole before you call it such. And maybe also something about size and shape and sharpness of edge - like, you wouldn't call a valley a hole, probably? But like, the straw fulfils the requirements of this hole easily, and twice.

3 holes

Okay, this one is merely for fun and play, don't get mad at me. But, say we define a hole kinda like above, as an entrance to the inside of an object. And we further define hole as any way through an object. Then we end up with something I like to call a 'hole-interval' through the straw.

So, we have one hole (rim at the top) to get into the straw, one hole (the straw, basically) to get through the straw and a third whole (rim at the bottom) to get out of the straw.

This is nonsense, obviously, but I like it, because there is a very nice mathematical feeling to it, resembling a closed interval. A closed interval [a, b] is just one object, but it has three parts that are often regarded independently of the others: the open interval (a, b) in the middle and the edge points {a} and {b}. For example, if you were to test the continuity of a function, you would often regard these three cases separately. So, in a way, there is beauty in regarding the 'three holes' of the straw as separate as well.

Infinitely many holes

This one is kinda nonsense as well, but I like the implications. If we define a hole as any instance of an object that is part of a tunnel through the object - I am using the word 'tunnel' here because actually, that tunnel would be the one hole in this case but for the sake of the definition, it can't be - then a straw is an infinite number of holes, stacked on top of each other. It is important to notice here that a hole cannot possibly have any depth in this case, just like the top and bottom holes in the last case.

This leads to two likely interpretations:

A) We have a hole at any real number (if we consider the straw as an interval along its length again). Then the straw would be made from uncountably infinitely many holes - which I think is an awesome concept.

B) We have a hole at any rational number. This would only give us a countably infinite number of holes in the straw and since Q is dense in R (don't worry about what that means), it would LOOK like the whole straw is made of holes, when in reality most of the straw would actually NOT HAVE ANY holes in it. Now isn't that the best thing you have heard all day?

And the best part : By this definition, not only would any straw be made of infinitely many holes, but any object with a hole in it would have infinitely many holes in it. Remember, for this to make sense, we needed to have holes with 0 depth. But any hole in reality has some depth. Punch a hole into a piece of paper: BAM infinitely many holes stacked on top of each other! :D

What have we learnt?

The most likely answers are 1 hole or 2 holes, depending on whether you take a more mathematical or more language-oriented approach. I think those were the two opinions most vocal in the original post as well.

But if you want to have fun, you can come up with very nice concepts and definitions to count holes by that give you a range of correct answers. Just make sure to think of the implications :)

[tellmealovestory]

Cozy

Summary: Eddie discovers the softer things in life.

Warnings: None. Pure softness and fluff!

Spooktober Masterlist

Before you Eddie didn’t know the meaning of softness or comfort. He was used to threadbare sheets and thin quilts with holes in them that did little to keep the chill out when the temperatures dipped. Pillows that were so old they were lumpier than oatmeal. But they were his and for the time before you came into his life they were good enough. 

After you though, well after you Eddie knew the meaning of comfort and softness and home.

It had started slowly, you moving in a few of your things. A toothbrush here. A favorite sweater or book left lying around there. Your preferred canisters of coffee and baked cookies. 

It was slow and subtle enough that not even Wayne noticed or had a thing to say. 

That all changed when Eddie came home after work one day. Limbs tired from exhaustion. Bleary eyed and eager to sink into the well worn couch and light up a joint. As soon as he opened the screen door he knew something was off. He inhaled deeply and as he stepped foot into the trailer it smelled like what he imagined a functional family holiday would be.

The spice of pumpkin pie straight out of the oven. Tart cranberries. Rich cinnamon. Sweet vanilla. 

Candles flickered across the surface of the narrow kitchen counter and on the rickety table that sat in front of the ancient couch which was surely older than him. 

But it wasn’t just the rich and welcome candles he saw burning and smelled it was what was on the furniture that made him pause in the doorway. 

Deep orange and burgundy blankets lay draped across the couch and Wayne’s recliner. And when he didn’t see you at first he walked the short distance to his bedroom to catch you laying a navy blue blanket across the end of his bed, a candle also flickering in here that smelled of marshmallows, a little burnt just how he liked them on a bonfire. 

You didn’t notice him at first. Humming, you smoothed your hands over the blanket fixing any wrinkles that appeared and as Eddie stood in the doorway watching you he could feel himself falling for you even harder and the softness that you brought to his rough edged life. 

“You’ve been busy,” he said, a small smile creeping on his face when you finally glanced up from your project and went over to greet him. A soft kiss on his stubbled cheek and he noted how you smelled like the candles; comforting and warm and his. 

Later, after dinner’s been had and conversation has been exhausted, teeth brushed and fresh pajamas put on, snuggled beneath that thin threadbare quilt and covered with the lush velvet blanket, you curled into his awaiting arms half asleep you mumbled, “Is it too much? The blankets and the candles and the food?” 

“No,” he said quickly, because it’s not. It’s perfect. It’s all perfect. You’re perfect. He wants to tell you those exact words, but sleep has already called and pulled you under and he knows this, making things nice and soft, showing him that he deserves kindness and love is your own way of telling him that you care about him. 

There’s another day for those words. Right now he just enjoys the softness and you in his arms. 

[keehomania]

therapeutic (테라퓨틱) — lee taeyong (이태용)

✧.* 18+

the mind, a vast labyrinth, held within its delicate folds the secrets of every human experience. it was a realm both familiar and foreign, a place where memories danced like shadows on ancient walls, where emotions ebbed and flowed like the tides, and where thoughts wove themselves into the fabric of reality. in that particular domain, the boundaries between the conscious and the unconscious blurred, creating a landscape that was as treacherous as it was beautiful.

for centuries, humanity had sought to understand the mind's inner workings, to decipher the language of neurons and synapses that whispered the truths of existence. yet, despite all the knowledge amassed, the mind remained an enigma, a force capable of both creation and destruction. it could be a sanctuary, a place of solace where dreams flourished, or a prison, where fears and anxieties festered in the dark corners, unbidden and unwelcome.

why do i think the way i do? why do i behave the way i do? why do we find ourselves begging the question, that three-letter question—why? too long has it been a double-edged sword, that question. those who ventured too close to the edge found themselves lost in a labyrinth of their own making, searching for a way out that sometimes seemed impossible to find.

the mind was both a protector and a betrayer. it could shield one from the harshness of reality, crafting illusions and fantasies that soothed the soul. but it could also turn against its owner, unraveling the very threads of their being until they were left exposed, vulnerable to the relentless onslaught of their inner demons. the mind could be a gentle guide, leading one toward healing and self-discovery, or a merciless tormentor, dragging them deeper into the abyss.

the path to mental well-being was not a straight one; it twisted and turned, often doubling back on itself in a confounding maze. it required courage to traverse, or facing the darkest parts of oneself, the fears and doubts that lay hidden beneath the surface. it meant confronting the wounds of the past, allowing them to bleed so they might eventually heal. and it meant accepting that some scars would never fully fade, that they were as much a part of the self as the mind that bore them.

the office you called your own was a home of sorts, a place where the issues of the outside world were left at the door, and the echoes of troubled minds found solace. it was a space curated to ease the burdens carried by those who sought your counsel. the walls were painted in soft, muted tones—an earthy beige that mimicked the comforting embrace of nature. sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting a gentle glow that softened the edges of the room and made it feel safe, inviting.

your desk, though functional, was devoid of the sterility one might expect in a clinical setting. instead, it was adorned with books—volumes on psychology, philosophy, and the occasional novel that you found particularly stirring. there was a small plant, a gift from a patient who had once come to you in a state of complete disarray, now thriving under your care much as she had under your guidance. everything in the room was carefully chosen to exude warmth, from the plush armchairs that encouraged relaxation to the subtle scent of lavender that lingered in the air, a calming presence in and of itself.

patients came to you from all walks of life, each bringing with them a story woven from the threads of their experiences, traumas, and desires. there were those who arrived at your doorstep with their defences up, their walls built high. but you had a way with people, a way that transcended the clinical distance that often characterized the relationships between psychiatrist and patient. you didn’t just listen to them—you heard them, truly, deeply. you took in not only their words but also the silences between them, the unspoken fears that hid behind carefully chosen phrases, the way their eyes darted away when a subject became too painful to confront.

your reputation had spread quietly, almost organically. it wasn’t that you were a miracle worker or that you possessed some mystical ability to cure what ailed them. rather, it was your presence, the way you made people feel seen and understood without judgment, that drew them in. you never approached a session with preconceived notions or diagnoses waiting to be confirmed. each patient was a blank canvas, and it was your role to help them paint the picture that best represented their truth, no matter how fragmented or abstract it might be.

pills had always been a contentious issue for you. the pharmaceutical industry, with its glossy advertisements and promises of quick fixes, had never sat well with you. to you, the mind was not a machine that could be fine-tuned with a simple dose of chemicals. it was a complex, ever-evolving entity, influenced by experiences, environment, and relationships. you believed that true healing came not from numbing the symptoms but from addressing the root causes, from understanding and untangling the web of emotions and memories that led to a patient’s distress.

when the need for medication arose—and it did, at times, arise—you approached it with the utmost caution. you prescribed only the smallest doses necessary, believing firmly in the principle of ‘less is more.’ and even then, you coupled any prescription with a robust plan of therapy, ensuring that the medication was merely a tool to assist in the journey, not the journey itself. the low dosages you recommended rarely led to backlash, and your patients appreciated your restraint, knowing that you were not one to dole out pills like candy but rather used them as a last resort.

it was in your interactions with your patients that your true skill shone. each session was a dance, a delicate balance of guiding and listening, of leading without forcing. you never rushed them, never pushed them to confront more than they were ready to face. instead, you let them set the pace, allowing the conversation to flow naturally. and when the time came to delve deeper, you did so with a gentleness that put them at ease.

park minhyuk, a man in his early forties who had walked into your office carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. his face was lined with the stress of a life lived under constant pressure, his eyes betraying a deep-seated weariness. he had been referred to you by a friend who spoke highly of your methods. the first time he sat across from you, he looked hesitant, almost skeptical, as if he didn’t quite believe that talking could help him.

“i’m not sure this is going to work,” he had said, his voice heavy with doubt. “i’ve been to therapists before. they all just tell me to take some pills and come back in a few weeks.”

you leaned back in your chair, studying him with a calm, measured gaze. “i’m not here to force anything on you, mister park,” you replied softly. “i’m here to listen, and we’ll move at a pace that feels right for you. there’s no rush.” he had looked at you then, really looked at you, as if searching for something, some sign that you were different. you met his gaze steadily, offering nothing but the quiet assurance that you were there to help, not to judge.

over time, he began to open up, slowly at first, testing the waters. he spoke of his job, the immense pressure to succeed, the constant fear of failure that gnawed at him day and night. he talked about his family, the wife and children he loved dearly but felt disconnected from, the guilt that weighed on him for not being more present in their lives. as he spoke, you listened—not just to his words but to the pain behind them. you noticed the way his hands clenched and unclenched when he talked about his work, the slight tremor in his voice when he mentioned his children. and when he finally began to talk about the darker thoughts that sometimes crept into his mind, the moments when he wondered if it would be easier just to disappear, you didn’t react with shock or alarm. instead, you nodded, acknowledging his feelings without judgment.

“i understand that it feels overwhelming,” you said gently. “but it’s important to remember that these thoughts, as heavy as they are, don’t define you. they’re part of what you’re going through, but they don’t have to be the end of your story.” he looked at you then, a flicker of hope in his tired eyes. “you really think i can get through this?”

“i do,” you replied, your voice steady and sure. “and i’m here to help you find the way.” his journey wasn’t easy, and there were setbacks along the way. but he returned week after week, drawn not just by your words but by the genuine care you showed. and slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, he began to heal. he started taking more time for himself, reconnecting with his family, finding ways to manage the stress that had once consumed him. the transformation wasn’t immediate, but it was real, and it was lasting.

your practice grew, not because you advertised or sought out patients, but because word of mouth spread. people spoke of you with a kind of reverence, not because you were a miracle worker, but because you offered them something rare in the world of mental health—a safe space where they could be themselves, where they could speak without fear of judgment, where they knew they would be heard.

even those who had been through the harshest of environments—prisoners, veterans, people who had been hardened by life—found solace in your office. they recommended you to others, saying, “you should see her. she’s different. she cares.” and they weren’t wrong. you had found your calling, not in the pills or the textbooks, but in the people who sat across from you, day after day, baring their souls in the hope of finding some relief from the burdens they carried. and you met them with compassion, with understanding, with a quiet strength that reassured them they were not alone.

despite your skill in navigating the landscapes of other’s minds, there was a vast, uncharted territory within your own that you could not seem to traverse. you could guide others out of their darkness, yet when it came to your own, you were perpetually lost, stumbling through a fog that only seemed to thicken with time. it was a darkness that you couldn’t quite pinpoint, a gnawing emptiness that seemed to have no origin, no clear beginning. you often wondered when it had all started, but the truth was as elusive as the peace you sought.

perhaps it began when your father left. you could still remember the day he walked out, his shadow stretching long across the floor as the door closed behind him. the silence that followed was deafening, a silence that you had been trying to fill ever since. you were young then, too young to understand why he was leaving, too young to grasp the implications. but the abandonment had left a scar, a deep, festering wound that never quite healed. you wondered if that was where it all began, this relentless feeling of being untethered, of floating aimlessly in a vast, empty space.

maybe it was when your mother overdosed, her lifeless body found slumped over in the bathroom, surrounded by the remnants of a life that had spiraled out of control. you had been the one to find her, a memory that still haunted you, that still woke you in the middle of the night drenched in sweat. the sight of her pale, lifeless face was seared into your mind, a constant reminder of the fragility of life, of how easily it could slip through your fingers. you had been left to pick up the pieces, to make sense of the senseless, and in doing so, you had buried your own grief, your own pain, deep within you, where it festered in the dark.

there were your grandparents, the last anchors in your life, the last semblance of stability. their deaths had come like a storm, sudden and unforgiving, leaving you alone in a world that seemed to be crumbling around you. they had been your safe haven, the only ones who understood the weight you carried, and when they were gone, it felt as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath you. alone. that word echoed in your mind, reverberating off the walls of your empty apartment, a constant reminder of your isolation.

you hated being alone. it wasn’t just a dislike; it was a deep-seated fear, a terror that clawed at you from the inside. when you were alone, your mind became a labyrinth of dark thoughts and memories, each corner hiding another shadow, another demon waiting to pounce. the silence was unbearable, suffocating, so you filled it with noise, any noise that could drown out the voices in your head. you couldn’t stand the short sessions with your patients, craving more time with them, more connection, more distraction from the void inside you. the hour would pass, and you would find yourself wanting to reach out, to extend the session, to hold on to the connection a little longer, just a little longer. but you never did. you were their healer, not the other way around.

housework became a ritual of distraction, each chore accompanied by the blaring sound of music that reverberated through the walls, filling the empty spaces with melodies that drowned out the silence. without music, the house felt too big, too empty, too full of memories you didn’t want to confront. you couldn’t sleep without a movie playing in the background, the flickering light and the familiar voices lulling you into a false sense of security. the thought of lying in bed in complete silence, left alone with your thoughts, was unbearable. so, the movies played, one after another, their comforting narratives keeping the darkness at bay for just a little while longer.

but at the end of the day, when the music stopped, when the movies ended, you were left with nothing but the quiet hum of the empty apartment and the stark realization that you were alone. no parents to comfort you, no friends to lean on, no boyfriend to share your life with. just you. and it wasn’t enough. you had poured so much of yourself into your work, into helping others heal, that you had neglected your own wounds, your own needs. you had become a vessel, emptying yourself for the sake of others until there was nothing left for you.

your patients were the only ones who filled that void, the only ones who made you feel needed, wanted. they confided in you, trusted you, relied on you, and for a while, it was enough. but they were temporary, each one coming to you broken and leaving whole, while you remained the same, a healer who couldn’t heal themselves. when they got better, when they no longer needed you, it broke your heart a little more each time, even though you knew it was coming. it was the nature of your work, after all, to help them, to guide them, and then to let them go. but the letting go was the hardest part because it meant returning to the silence, to the emptiness, to the loneliness that gnawed at you, growing stronger with each departure.

you were sitting in your office, the soft glow of the desk lamp casting long shadows across the room as you sifted through patient files and prescription bottles. the clock on the wall ticked away the minutes, but you barely noticed. the weight of the empty office felt like a cocoon, enclosing you in a familiar, if not comforting, solitude. the sterile smell of paper and faint traces of disinfectant mingled in the air, a scent that had become as much a part of your life as the darkness that you couldn't seem to shake.

the faint sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, growing louder as they approached your door. you knew who it was before she even knocked—a gentle, almost tentative rap on the door, followed by the soft creak as it swung open. “still here?” your manager’s voice was gentle, but there was an underlying note of concern that she couldn’t quite mask. hara stepped into the room, her eyes sweeping over the scattered files and the bottles of pills lined up in neat rows on your desk. the look she gave you was one you’d seen many times before—a mix of empathy, perhaps a touch of pity, and something else that you couldn’t quite place.

you didn’t look up immediately, your eyes fixed on the file in front of you as you made a show of scribbling a note in the margins. “just wanted to get as much work done as i could,” you said, finally glancing up with a smile that felt foreign on your lips, a practiced expression that you’d perfected over the years. she didn’t say anything at first, just watched you with those knowing eyes of hers. then she moved closer, placing a hand on your shoulder. the touch was warm, grounding in a way that made you want to lean into it, to close your eyes and let the world fall away. but you didn’t. instead, you stayed still, your smile frozen in place.

“you need to rest,” she said softly, her voice carrying a warmth that made something in your chest tighten. she squeezed your shoulder gently before letting her hand drop back to her side. “i will,” you assured her, the lie slipping out as easily as all the others. it was what you were supposed to say, after all, what she expected to hear. but you both knew the truth, didn’t you? you weren’t planning on resting, not anytime soon. rest meant being alone with your thoughts, and that was something you couldn’t bear.

she sighed, a soft sound of resignation, and you could see the conflict in her eyes. she knew she should insist, should tell you to go home and take care of yourself. but she also knew what you would say, how you would deflect with that same smile and those same empty promises. so she didn’t push. instead, she gave you a small nod and fished a set of keys out of her pocket. “lock up when you’re done, alright?” she said, holding the keys out to you.

you reached out to take them, your fingers brushing against hers for the briefest moment before she pulled her hand back. “i will,” you said again, and this time she didn’t bother to respond. she just nodded, casting one last glance around your barren office—the empty desk devoid of personal touches, the phone that never rang—before turning and walking out of the room. the door clicked shut behind her, leaving you alone once more. the silence was palpable, pressing in around you, but you welcomed it. it was better than the alternative. you turned back to the files, flipping through them with the pretense of work, but your mind was elsewhere, lost in the fog that seemed to constantly hover just at the edges of your consciousness.

you let the minutes tick by, the hours bleeding into one another as you went through the same files, the same bottles, over and over again. you knew there was nothing left to do, nothing left to distract yourself with, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. not yet. not when you knew what awaited you outside—the cold, unwelcoming night, the empty apartment, the silence that you couldn’t drown out. but eventually, the futility of your actions became impossible to ignore. the same patient files stared back at you, the same labels on the bottles mocking you with their uselessness. you sighed, a long, drawn-out exhalation of breath that carried with it all the weariness you felt but couldn’t show. there was nothing left to do, no more excuses to stay.

reluctantly, you gathered the files and put them back in their proper place, the routine motions bringing you no comfort. the click of the lock on the file cabinet echoed in the empty room, a finality that made your heart sink. you picked up the keys your manager had left you, your fingers curling around the cool metal, and stood up. the room was dark now, the only light coming from the faint glow of the streetlamps outside. you turned off the desk lamp, plunging the room into shadow, and made your way to the door. the hallway was just as empty as it had been when she left, the building silent save for the occasional creak of the floorboards. you locked the door behind you, the keys jingling in the quiet as you slipped them into your pocket.

the night air was cool when you stepped outside, unlike the stale, sterile atmosphere of the office. you tucked your hands into your pockets, your breath misting in the air as you stood there for a moment, letting the city’s sounds wash over you. it was late—nearly two in the morning—but the city was still alive, the distant hum of traffic and the occasional shout from a passerby reminding you that you weren’t completely alone.

but it didn’t bring you any comfort. if anything, it made the emptiness inside you more acute, unlike the vibrancy of the world around you. you weren’t tired, though you wished you were. exhaustion would have been a mercy, a way to escape the thoughts that clawed at you in the quiet. but sleep was as elusive as peace, and you knew that returning to your empty apartment would only make things worse.

so you let your feet carry you down the street, the familiar route to the small bar that stayed open late. it wasn’t much, just a hole-in-the-wall with dim lighting and a jukebox that played old songs, but it was something. a place where you could lose yourself for a little while, where the music and the people could drown out the noise in your head. the bar was nearly empty when you walked in, just a few regulars nursing their drinks and the bartender wiping down the counter. you slipped onto a stool at the far end, nodding in acknowledgment as the bartender approached.

“just a whiskey,” you said, your voice low, and he nodded, pouring you a glass without a word. you downed the first drink quickly, the burn of the alcohol a fleeting comfort, and ordered another. the jukebox played a song you didn’t recognize, the melody soft and haunting, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in it. the chatter around you faded into the background, the clink of glasses and the murmur of voices becoming nothing more than white noise.

but the comfort was temporary, as it always was. the bar was closing, the bartender giving you a sympathetic look as he handed you your tab. you paid it without complaint, sliding off the stool and making your way to the door with a wave of thanks. the night was colder now, the wind biting at your skin as you walked back to your apartment. the streets were emptier, the city slowly falling asleep, and you found yourself wishing you could do the same. but as you reached your building, the familiar weight of dread settled in your chest. you unlocked the door and stepped inside, the silence immediately enveloping you, as it did every night.

you moved through the motions mechanically—kicking off your shoes, tossing your keys on the table, flicking on the lights. but the apartment felt as cold and lifeless as you did, the emptiness pressing in on you from all sides. you thought about turning on the television, letting the sound fill the void, but you couldn’t muster the energy. instead, you stood in the middle of the room, staring at nothing in particular, feeling the weight of the silence bear down on you.

it was suffocating, this loneliness, this isolation. it was a constant companion, one that you couldn’t escape no matter how hard you tried. and as you finally collapsed onto the couch, pulling a blanket around your shoulders, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was how it would always be. if you were destined to live your life in this void, surrounded by silence and shadows, with no one to share it with. the night stretched on, the city outside your window slowly quieting as it finally succumbed to sleep. but sleep didn’t come for you, not easily, not with the thoughts that swirled in your mind, the memories that haunted you. so you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, letting the darkness close in around you, wondering if there would ever be a way out.

the morning sunlight streamed through the narrow gap in your curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. you stretched awake, the familiar feeling of weariness hanging heavy in your limbs, but there was something different about today. it was as though a thin veil had lifted, allowing a sliver of anticipation to seep in. you had always been a person of routine, and the thought of returning to your office, of delving back into the rhythm of your work, brought with it a semblance of comfort, a fleeting escape from the solitude that plagued you.

you moved through your morning routine with efficiency, the motions almost automatic. the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen as you prepared a simple breakfast—toast and jam, with a cup of strong coffee to wake your senses. the radio hummed softly in the background, a familiar companion that provided a semblance of normalcy. you dressed with deliberate care, choosing a crisp, tailored suit that made you feel professional and polished, ready to face whatever the day might bring.

the trip to the office was a brief but pleasant ritual, the city streets bathed in the soft morning light, the air carrying the promise of a new day. you relished the routine, the predictable patterns that offered a sense of control. as you approached your building, you caught sight of the familiar facade, the reassuring solidity of it grounding you.

but as you walked through the entrance, you were greeted by an unexpected sight. hara stood waiting in the lobby. her presence was unusual at this hour, and her expression was more serious than usual. you offered her a friendly smile, but she didn’t immediately return it. instead, she gestured for you to follow her to a quiet corner of the building. “you’ve been working hard,” she began, her tone carrying a note of cautious warmth. “and i wanted to have a word with you.”

you paused, a twinge of apprehension flickering in your chest. “am i in trouble?” you asked, the question escaping before you could second-guess it. hara shook her head, her lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “no, not at all. well, not yet,” she said, inhaling deeply as if gathering her thoughts.

your heart skipped a beat. “what do you mean?” the uncertainty in her voice sent a ripple of unease through you. “what’s wrong?” she took a moment to collect her thoughts, her eyes meeting yours with a look of barely concealed concern. “you have a new patient,” she said finally, her tone shifting to one of subdued excitement as she watched your eyes light up at the news.

“really?” you asked, a spark of enthusiasm igniting within you. it had been a while since you had taken on a new case, and the prospect of diving into a fresh challenge was invigorating.

hara held up a hand, her expression turning more serious. “don’t get too excited,” she said, her tone taking on a warning edge. “he’ll be your project patient for your internship at the asylum.” the words hit you like a cold splash of water. “the asylum?” you repeated, the dismay clear in your voice. “but i love working here. this office, this environment—i don’t want to leave.”

hara’s face softened, and before you could fully process what was happening, she stepped forward and enveloped you in a hug. the gesture was unexpected, her arms wrapping around you with a warmth and sincerity that contrasted sharply with her usual professional demeanor. for a moment, you let yourself sink into the embrace, the human contact a rare and precious balm against the isolation that had become your constant companion.

“i know,” she said, her voice muffled against your shoulder. “i know how much you love it here. but this is something you have to do for your career. it’s a good opportunity, and it’s important for your development.”

you barely registered her words, too caught up in the comforting proximity of another person. the embrace lasted only a few moments, but it was enough to stir something deep within you—a longing for connection, for understanding, for more than just the superficial interactions of your daily life. when she finally pulled away, you nodded, a sense of reluctant acceptance settling over you. “okay,” you said softly, the word carrying more resignation than agreement.

she gave you a reassuring smile, her eyes reflecting a mix of sympathy and encouragement. “i’ll call a taxi for you,” she said, guiding you toward the building’s entrance. “it’s best if you head over there now. and remember to keep an open mind. this could be a valuable experience.” you followed her outside, the cool morning air brushing against your face. she hailed a taxi and handed you the keys to the office, reminding you to lock up when you finished. you took the keys with a grateful nod and watched as she walked back inside, her figure disappearing into the building.

the ride was a blur of anxious anticipation and reluctant acceptance. the city passed by in a series of shifting scenes, the familiar streets giving way to more industrial landscapes as you neared the asylum. it was a place you had heard about in passing but had never visited—a cold, imposing structure that seemed to loom on the horizon, its architecture stark and unwelcoming.

the asylum loomed before you like a cold, implacable sentinel against the sky, its grim, grey façade cutting through the morning mist. you stood before it for a moment, taking in the sheer scale of the structure—an imposing monolith that seemed to absorb the light, casting long shadows that stretched over the cracked pavement. the windows were narrow, barred, and the walls bore the harshness of age and neglect. there was something distinctly unwelcoming about it, so unlike the warm, inviting atmosphere of your office.

you pushed open the iron door, and a chill seemed to emanate from the very core of the building. the foyer was austere and utilitarian, the air thick with the smell of disinfectant and something else—a faint hint of despair that clung to the walls and floors. the reception area was starkly lit, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glare over the sterile surroundings. it was a far cry from the soft lighting and cozy furnishings you were accustomed to.

the receptionist sat behind a high counter, her demeanor as frosty as the environment. she looked up as you approached, her gaze assessing you with a detached scrutiny. her uniform was crisp and immaculate, adding to the air of clinical precision that pervaded the space. “name and business?” she asked, her voice flat and devoid of warmth.

you took a deep breath, steeling yourself against the chill that seemed to penetrate your bones. “i’m (y/n) (l/n), here for an internship as the asylum’s psychiatrist,” you said, your voice steady despite the uneasy flutter in your stomach. the receptionist’s eyes narrowed slightly, and her lips twisted into a thin, humorless line. there was something almost predatory in her gaze, a faint glimmer of disdain or perhaps even pity. “follow me,” she said curtly, her tone leaving no room for discussion.

you trailed behind her as she led you through the labyrinthine corridors of the asylum. the hallways were long and narrow, lined with peeling paint and heavy metal doors. the air was heavy, laden with the echoes of distant voices and the occasional clank of metal on metal. you could hear the shuffling of feet, the murmurs and cries of the patients—a cacophony of sounds that was jarringly different from the calm and composed demeanor of your previous office.

as you walked, you noticed the guards stationed at regular intervals. they were stern-faced and vigilant, their uniforms dark and imposing. their presence was a constant reminder of the control and surveillance that permeated every corner of the asylum. you felt their eyes on you, a silent assessment that made you self-conscious. you passed by several cells, their occupants visible through the narrow windows set into the doors. the patients inside were much unlike the composed individuals you were used to. they paced restlessly, their eyes darting with a wildness that spoke of untamed thoughts and unspoken fears. some shouted incoherently, while others simply stared blankly at the walls. the sense of chaos was eerie, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

eventually, the receptionist stopped in front of a heavy door marked with a simple brass plate that read “psychiatrist.” she unlocked it with a practiced twist of the key and pushed it open, revealing a small, spartan office. the room was a stark departure from the warm, inviting space you were used to. the walls were a dull, institutional green, and the furniture was minimal and functional. there was a plain wooden desk with a single chair behind it and a couple of metal filing cabinets against one wall. a solitary window, heavily barred, provided a view of the bleak courtyard outside. the light that filtered through was cold and uninviting, casting long shadows across the room.

the receptionist stepped inside and placed a folder on the desk. “this is your workspace,” she said, her tone as unfeeling as ever. “you’ll be lucky to make it out alive.”

her words were delivered with a chilling finality, and before you could respond, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving you alone in the sterile, unwelcoming space. the door clicked shut behind her, and you were left standing in the midst of the clinical bleakness that surrounded you. you stood there for a moment, absorbing the reality of your new environment. the emptiness of the room mirrored the uncertainty that was swirling within you. the asylum was a world apart from the comforting familiarity of your office, a place where every detail seemed designed to unsettle and disquiet. as you took in the surroundings, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret for the warmth you had left behind and a growing apprehension for what lay ahead.

you turned your attention to the stack of files on your desk, organizing them with methodical precision. the papers were a jumble of case histories, treatment plans, and patient backgrounds. as you sorted through them, the muted rustle of paper was the only sound breaking the silence of the room. you had just begun to lose yourself in the paperwork when a sharp knock on the door startled you. the sound echoed in the otherwise still space, cutting through the quiet like a sudden gust of wind. you looked up, but before you could respond, the door swung open with a slow creak, revealing two guards.

the guards were as imposing as their environment, their uniforms sharp and unyielding. they moved with an air of efficiency, each holding an arm of the man who followed them into the room. your gaze fell upon him, and despite your initial wariness, you were struck by an unsettling calmness that seemed to envelop him. he didn't resist; instead, he walked with an eerie composure, his movements measured and deliberate.

the man was restrained in a straitjacket, his arms bound tightly and secured with a belt around his torso. the sight of the straitjacket, with its bold white fabric and heavy buckles, seemed almost surreal against the backdrop of the dull office. the restraints were a harsh reminder of the severe nature of his condition, yet his demeanor was unexpectedly serene. as he was guided to the chair across from your desk, you took the opportunity to study him more closely. he was a tall man, his frame lean but solid. his features were striking—a sharp, prominent jawline and high cheekbones that gave him a distinctly aristocratic appearance. his brown eyes, though calm, carried an intensity that seemed to pierce through the confines of the straitjacket, a depth that hinted at complexities beneath the surface.

there was an unsettling grace to his presence, an almost magnetic quality that drew your attention despite the circumstances. his hair was dark and neatly styled, falling in soft waves that framed his face. the contrast between his physical appeal and the harsh restraints was jarring, creating a dissonance that was difficult to ignore. the guards remained by the door, their expressions guarded and unreadable. they exchanged a brief, knowing look before stepping out of the room, leaving you alone with the restrained man. their departure was marked by the soft click of the door as it closed behind them, and the silence that followed was thick and heavy.

you were left in the room with the man, the weight of the situation settling heavily on your shoulders. the office, with its cold, clinical ambiance, seemed suddenly smaller and more confining. you took a deep breath, trying to center yourself as you prepared to begin the session. the man’s calmness was a definite contrast to the environment of the asylum. he patient’s eyes remained fixed on you, a quiet challenge in their depths, as if he were assessing you as much as you were trying to understand him. you could sense a subtle tension in the air, an undercurrent of anticipation that was almost overwhelming.

you took a deep breath, the silence in the room amplifying the subtle rustle of papers as you mentally prepared yourself for the interaction. the restrained man sat calmly in front of you, his demeanor a striking contrast to the harsh confines of his situation. you cleared your throat, attempting to steady your voice as you introduced yourself.

“hello, i’m doctor (y/n) (l/n),” you said, your tone measured and professional. “i’ll be working with you during this internship.” as you spoke, the man’s lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile. it was a smile that seemed to hold secrets, one that both intrigued and unsettled you. Hhs eyes glinted with an unsettling mixture of curiosity and amusement.

“lee taeyong,” he said, his voice smooth and articulate. the name struck you with the force of a thunderclap. you hadn’t recognized his face immediately, but his name was unmistakable. lee taeyong—an infamous figure known for his involvement in shootings and robberies. his notoriety had led to his confinement in a correctional facility after being deemed mentally unwell. your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your face go pale, the realization dawning with a cold, unwelcome clarity. taeyong’s keen eyes caught the shift in your expression, and a dry chuckle escaped his lips.

“have you heard of me?” he asked, his tone laced with a subtle taunt. you nodded slowly, trying to mask the tension that was creeping into your chest. “yes, i have.”

his laughter was dry and devoid of genuine mirth, a sound that seemed to echo with a dark undertone. “so, are you gonna cure me, doctor?” he asked, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. you squared your shoulders, forcing yourself to meet his gaze with a confidence you didn’t entirely feel. “there isn’t anything i can’t cure.”

his response was immediate, and he leaned in abruptly, causing you to flinch involuntarily. the sudden movement was unsettling, and you found yourself instinctively retreating. taeyong smirked, clearly amused by your reaction. “are you afraid, doctor?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. you steadied your breathing, forcing a calmness into your voice as you responded, “i’m not.”

his eyes widened slightly in surprise. “you’re too pretty to be a doctor,” he remarked, the compliment carrying an edge of mockery. you raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the conversation on track. “why do you think you’re unstable?”

taeyong’s expression shifted slightly, his demeanor becoming more contemplative. “i don’t think i am,” he said, a hint of defensiveness in his voice. “but everybody else does. they think my urges are abnormal.” intrigued, you leaned forward slightly. “what kind of urges?”

his eyes darkened with a certain intensity as he spoke. “i like the fear and the thrill,” he said, his voice carrying a chilling calm. “the screams, the way everyone is powerless against me. it’s exhilarating.”

your mind raced as you processed his words, but you decided to take an unexpected step. you reached for the straps of his straitjacket and began to unfasten them, freeing his arms. taeyong’s eyes widened in surprise. “what are you doing?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

you smiled, trying to project a sense of ease despite the underlying tension. “i thought you might be more comfortable without the restraints.” his gaze remained fixed on you, his expression a blend of astonishment and wariness. “aren’t you afraid i’ll kill you?”

you met his gaze steadily, feeling a strange sense of calmness despite the gravity of the situation. “i don’t think you will.” his brows knitted together in confusion. “how do you know?”

“because,” you said softly, “i don’t believe you’re a bad person.” the sincerity in your voice seemed to take him aback. his eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he looked genuinely disoriented by your kindness. the atmosphere in the room seemed to shift, a tentative bridge forming between the two of you.

taeyong leaned back, his posture relaxing slightly as he began to open up in a way that was both fascinating and ominous. he spoke of his past, his thoughts, and his perceptions with a raw honesty that was unsettling yet compelling. his words were a tapestry of dark desires and twisted logic, but there was an underlying vulnerability that made it clear he was grappling with his own demons.

as the session drew to a close, he looked at you with an unsettling blend of anticipation and something akin to respect. “i look forward to seeing you again, doctor.” he said, his voice carrying an eerie calmness. to your surprise, you found yourself looking forward to it as well. there was something about the interaction, the unexpected connection, that left you both unsettled and intrigued. as you watched him being escorted out by the guards, the weight of the session settled on your shoulders.

the morning sunlight filtered through the blinds of your apartment, casting a warm, gentle glow over the room. yet, despite the comforting start to your day, your mind was occupied with a singular thought—your next session with taeyong. the anticipation was a new and curious sensation, one that both thrilled and unsettled you. there was something compelling about his presence, a magnetic pull that made you eager to continue your interactions with him.

as you prepared for work, you found yourself contemplating how to make the next session more engaging, more comforting for him. the idea of a small gesture—something that might break through the cold walls of the asylum and create a connection—seemed to be the right approach. you decided to get him a gift, a symbol of the positive interaction you hoped to foster.

you ventured out to a small, quaint shop that morning, one filled with charming trinkets and comforting knick-knacks. your eyes scanned the shelves until they fell upon a small, stuffed kitten, its plush fur a soft, inviting shade of cream. it was delicate and unassuming, a small source of innocence amidst the reality of the asylum. you picked it up with a sense of purpose, imagining how such a simple object might ease the harshness of taeyong’s environment.

when you arrived at the asylum, the day’s routine felt different. the walls seemed colder, the atmosphere more oppressive, but the small stuffed kitten in your bag provided a small spark of warmth. as you approached your office, you were taken aback to find taeyong already seated in the chair, an unexpected sight. his presence there, so much earlier than anticipated, stirred a peculiar flutter in your chest. “you’re early today,” you remarked, trying to keep your tone light and neutral.

taeyong looked up at you, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “i couldn’t wait to see you,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of excitement that made your heart skip a beat. the sincerity in his words resonated deeply with you, and a small, inexplicable connection seemed to click into place. you felt a warm flush creep up your neck, but you quickly pushed the feeling aside, focusing on your planned gesture.

“i have something for you,” you said, reaching into your bag and pulling out the stuffed kitten. taeyong’s eyes widened with surprise and curiosity. “what’s this?” he asked, his tone a mix of intrigue and amusement.

you extended the kitten towards him, a smile playing at your lips. “it’s a little gift. i thought it might help make things a bit more comfortable here.” he took the kitten from you, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief, electrifying moment. as he cradled the stuffed animal in his hands, a look of genuine appreciation crossed his face. “i’m honored,” he said softly, his gaze fixed on the kitten.

you watched as he examined the plush toy with a sense of fascination. “i want you to take good care of it,” you said, your voice gentle. “if you can fight the urge to hurt it, then maybe you can fight the urge to hurt anything.” his lips curved into a mischievous smile as he toyed with the kitten, his fingers brushing over its soft fur.

“is that your way of challenging me, doctor?” he asked, his tone light but edged with an underlying seriousness. you nodded, trying to maintain a composed demeanor. “something like that,” you replied.

the session began in earnest, the conversation flowing with a new ease as taeyong’s attention seemed drawn to the small stuffed animal. he spoke of his past, his feelings, and his thoughts with a candor that was both unsettling and revealing. his insights were intertwined with moments of dark humor and cryptic reflections, making it clear that he was a man of contradictions. at one point, as you listened intently, his hand, still holding the kitten, brushed against a stray strand of hair that had fallen across your face. the touch was fleeting but intimate, a gesture that caught you off guard. you looked up to meet his gaze, finding a depth in his eyes that was both intense and vulnerable.

“i meant what i said earlier,” taeyong said, his voice softening. “you’re too pretty to be a doctor.” you blinked in surprise, trying to process the compliment amidst the complexity of the situation. “what do you mean?” you asked, genuinely curious.

his expression remained earnest, his eyes locking onto yours with a sincerity that was rare in such an environment. “you just don’t seem like someone who should be confined to this place. there’s something different about you.”

the moment lingered between you, charged with an emotional undercurrent that was difficult to define. despite the oddity of the situation, you felt a surprising warmth in his words. it was an acknowledgment of your humanity amidst the dehumanizing environment of the asylum. as the session drew to a close, you gathered your things, the small stuffed kitten resting on the desk between you. taeyong’s gaze followed you with an almost reluctant admiration, and there was a sense of anticipation in the air as you prepared to leave.

“i look forward to seeing you again,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of genuine hope. you nodded, a small smile touching your lips. “i look forward to seeing you too.”

with that, you watched as taeyong was escorted out by the guards, the connection between you both lingering like a faint but persistent echo. the asylum, with all its harsh realities, seemed momentarily softened by the unexpected bond that had formed. as you left for the day, the small stuffed kitten seemed to symbolize a fragile bridge between your world and his. you just weren't aware of how sturdy, nor how fragile, the bridge really was.

the weeks that followed your initial session with taeyong felt like a delicate dance, a precarious balance between professional distance and the growing, unspoken connection that had begun to develop between you. each session became a complex interplay of emotions and revelations, and you found yourself increasingly invested in his progress.

you had begun to believe, with a cautious optimism, that taeyong was making strides. the sessions were marked by moments of genuine insight and self-reflection from him, which seemed to indicate that he was grappling with his inner turmoil in ways that were both constructive and revealing. there was an undeniable progress, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of hope every time you saw him approach with that enigmatic smile.

during one particular session, you found yourself immersed in a conversation about his past, his regrets, and his aspirations. taeyong, with his characteristic curiosity and sharpness, suddenly shifted the focus of the conversation. “what about you, doctor?” he asked, his voice carrying a tone of genuine interest. “what do you struggle with?”

the question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you hesitated. it was unusual for a patient to turn the spotlight onto you, especially someone like taeyong, whose own issues seemed so consuming. you took a deep breath, searching for the right words to encapsulate the truth.

“i suppose,” you began, struggling to find a way to articulate your feelings. “i've been lonely my whole life.” taeyong’s eyes softened, and for a fleeting moment, the hardness in his gaze seemed to melt away. “no woman like you should ever feel lonely,” he said softly, his tone laced with an unexpected gentleness.

his words struck a chord deep within you, and you felt a sudden, almost overwhelming rush of emotion. you looked up, meeting his gaze with a mixture of vulnerability and curiosity. before you could fully process the weight of his statement, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “do you feel lonely with me here?” he asked, his voice a low whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

your heart pounded in your chest, the sound echoing in your ears as if to drown out the rest of the world. the proximity of his body, the intensity of his gaze, and the warmth of his breath combined to create a heady cocktail of sensations. you fought to maintain composure, but the answer came out more as a breathless confession. “no,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper.

taeyong’s fingers, moving with deliberate slowness, traced a path along your neck. the touch was light but electrifying, a sensation that left your skin tingling and your breath catching in your throat. “you shouldn’t,” he said, his voice carrying an almost imperceptible note of possessiveness.

the weight of his touch, the intimacy of the moment, and the raw honesty in his words created a potent mix of emotions that overwhelmed you. as the session drew to a close, you found yourself grappling with a tumult of conflicting feelings. the professional boundaries that had once seemed so clear were now blurred, and you were left with a gnawing sense of guilt for finding comfort in a connection that was fundamentally inappropriate.

the room seemed colder as you watched him leave, the reality of the asylum returning with its harsh, unyielding presence. you could still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the echo of his breath in your ear, and the weight of his words in your heart. the session had brought a confusing mixture of warmth and unease, and as you locked up your office and walked out into the night, the loneliness you had tried so hard to combat felt more intense than ever.

as the days turned into weeks, the asylum’s sterile corridors and echoing chambers seemed to shrink in comparison to the burgeoning world of emotions you experienced during your sessions with taeyong. each encounter with him became a delicate interplay of professional duty and personal connection, weaving a complex tapestry of emotions that you struggled to fully comprehend.

the sessions grew more intense and revealing, both for you and for taeyong. you could no longer ignore the way your heart would race in anticipation of each meeting. the way his eyes would light up when he saw you, the way his presence seemed to fill the room with a bright energy—it was impossible to deny the deepening bond between you.

in one particular session, taeyong sat across from you, the small stuffed kitten now a constant companion in his hands. the stuffed animal had become a symbol of the connection you shared, its presence a silent witness to your evolving relationship. “you know,” he began, his voice carrying a hint of introspection, “i’ve been thinking a lot about what we’ve talked about. you’ve managed to get me to see things differently. i never thought i’d say this, but i think i owe you more than just my progress.”

you looked at him, your heart skipping a beat at his unexpected confession. “what do you mean by that?” you asked, your voice steady but filled with curiosity. his gaze was intense, his eyes searching yours with an earnestness that was both disarming and endearing. “you’ve been patient with me, more patient than anyone else ever has. i think,” he paused, choosing his words with care. “i think you’ve made me feel things i didn’t know i could still feel.”

you could feel the weight of his words settling over you, a mix of excitement and apprehension. “and what is it that you feel?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper. he took a deep breath, his fingers absently stroking the kitten. “i feel understood. cared for, in a way I never thought i’d experience again. it’s strange, but i think i’m beginning to look forward to these sessions more than i should.”

the admission struck a chord within you, and you felt a mixture of joy and sadness. joy at the progress he was making and sadness at the realization that your growing affection for him might blur the lines of your professional role. during another session, you found yourself struggling to maintain your composure as taeyong’s attention shifted to you in a way that felt increasingly personal. he leaned forward, his gaze unwavering as he spoke.

“you know,” he said, his voice low and intimate, “i’ve noticed something about you. you seem different when we talk. there’s something in the way you look at me. something more than just concern.” you felt your cheeks flush, a mixture of embarrassment and excitement swirling within you. “what do you mean?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

his eyes softened, and he reached out, his fingers gently brushing against yours. “i think you care about me more than you let on. and i can’t help but feel the same way.”

the admission hung in the air, charged with an electric tension that was impossible to ignore. you felt a surge of emotion, a tumult of conflicting feelings as you tried to process his words. it was both thrilling and terrifying to acknowledge that your feelings for taeyong had grown beyond the boundaries of professional detachment.

as the session continued, his demeanor shifted. he seemed more relaxed, more open, and the connection between you felt more tangible than ever. the way he would smile at you, the way his eyes would linger on yours—it was clear that the emotional bond between you was deepening. you struggled with the guilt and the moral conflict of your growing affection for him, knowing that it was inappropriate yet feeling a profound, undeniable connection.

the day you arrived for your next session with taeyong, you felt an unusual sense of anticipation. the asylum's cold corridors seemed to blur as you walked briskly toward your office, your mind already filled with thoughts of the conversation you hoped to have. but as you reached the familiar door, a pang of anxiety hit you when you noticed the room was empty.

your heart sank as you turned to the guards stationed outside the office. “where’s taeyong?” you asked, trying to keep your voice calm despite the growing concern. the guards exchanged uneasy glances before one of them responded. “they’ve decided to test their luck with another psychiatrist today. wanted to see how he’d react.”

a cold wave of dread washed over you, and you felt a sharp pang of heartache. before you could ask for more details, the silence of the corridor was shattered by a deafening crash. your heart raced as the sound of shattering furniture and frantic shouting reached your ears.

without a second thought, you sprinted down the hallway, your footsteps echoing in the sterile space. as you rounded the corner, you saw the scene unfolding in your office. taeyong, his face a mask of determination, was wielding a chair above his head, his muscles tensed in a show of raw strength. the psychiatrist lay sprawled on the floor, his face a picture of shock and pain. the guards were shouting, their voices a blur as they rushed toward taeyong. “what happened?” one of them demanded, their tone filled with both anger and concern.

his gaze, sharp and intense, found yours amidst the chaos. “i told you,” he said, his voice carrying a fierce determination, “i wanted to see doctor (l/n).”

the room seemed to freeze for a moment as his words sank in. he was swiftly restrained and escorted back to his cell, leaving you standing in the doorway of your office, your heart aching at the sight of the broken scene before you. the guards, now dealing with the aftermath of his outburst, left you waiting alone in the hallway. time seemed to stretch endlessly as you stood there, your mind racing with a tumult of conflicting emotions. when taeyong was finally brought out again, his demeanor was calmer, though his eyes held a deep, unfathomable intensity.

he looked at you with a mix of curiosity and something more personal. “what were you doing there?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with an edge of disbelief. you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his gaze. “i was waiting for you,” you admitted, your voice soft but earnest.

his eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his features. “seriously?” you nodded, feeling a strange blend of relief and apprehension. “yes, seriously.”

once back in your office, the atmosphere felt charged with an electric tension. you sat across from him, your heart pounding as you tried to make sense of the events. “why did you crash out like that?” you asked, struggling to keep your voice steady. “you were making so much progress.”

taeyong’s expression softened slightly as he reached for the small stuffed kitten that had become a symbol of your sessions. he held it up, its soft fur unmarred by the recent issues. “because,” he said, his voice softening with an intensity that made your breath catch, “i’m in love with you.”

the confession hung heavy in the air, and you felt a surge of conflicting emotions—shock, confusion, and a deep, aching resonance. you stared at him, unable to fully process the gravity of his words. “i am too,” you said finally, your voice trembling with the weight of the admission.

without another word, he leaned forward, his gaze fixed on you with a fierce, unyielding intensity. his lips met yours in a kiss that was both tender and urgent. it felt wrong, a violation of every professional boundary you had sworn to uphold. yet, the raw, desperate need to connect, to feel something beyond the crushing loneliness that had plagued you, overpowered your sense of propriety.

the kiss was intense, filled with a mix of longing and desperation that made your heart race. his lips were warm against yours, his touch both gentle and insistent. every brush of his mouth, every caress of his fingers, seemed to echo the depth of the emotions you had both been struggling to contain. as the kiss deepened, you felt a wave of conflicting emotions—guilt and exhilaration, fear and desire. the world outside faded away, leaving only the overwhelming intensity of the moment. the walls of the asylum, the rules you had so carefully adhered to, and the boundaries you had maintained all seemed to crumble in the face of the unexpected connection.

taeyong’s hands slid up your body, cupping your tits over your blouse. his thumbs brushed against your nipples, which hardened immediately under his touch. you gasped into his mouth, your body responding with a fiery hunger that was impossible to ignore. his touch was rough, yet tender, as if he was afraid of breaking the fragile bond that had formed between you. his words from earlier played in your mind, and you felt a thrill of arousal that was as surprising as it was undeniable. you pushed back from the desk, the chair scraping against the floor as you stood to face him. your hands found the hem of your blouse, lifting it over your head to expose your bra. his eyes raked over your body, dark with desire. “you have no idea,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “how long i’ve wanted this.”

you stepped closer to him, reaching behind to unclasp your bra. it fell away, revealing your full, round tits. taeyong’s gaze was glued to them, his pupils dilating as he took in the sight. he leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as he licked one nipple, then the other, his tongue flicking and teasing until you were moaning with need. your hands found his hair, pulling him closer as his mouth closed around one nipple, sucking hard.

his hands moved to the button of your pants, and with trembling fingers, he unzipped them. you stepped out of them, feeling a sense of vulnerability that was both terrifying and thrilling. he pushed you back onto the desk, his mouth moving down your body as he kissed and licked a trail to your center. his fingers found their way inside your panties, stroking your wet folds.

his tongue darted out, tasting you for the first time. you moaned, arching your back as he explored you with a fervor that left you breathless. he was rough, yet precise, his touch speaking of a hunger that matched your own. you could feel his erection pressing against you through his pants, and the thought of his big dick inside you made you wetter still. his fingers moved to your clit, rubbing it in tight circles that had you panting. your hips rocked against his face, desperate for more. “please, taeyong,” you begged, your voice needy and wanton. “fuck me. make me feel alive again.”

his only response was to stand up, his eyes never leaving yours as he unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the floor. his cock sprang free, thick and hard, and you felt your mouth water at the sight of it. he stepped closer, positioning himself between your legs, and without preamble, he pushed into you.

the sensation was overwhelming—he was so much bigger than any man you had ever been with. it was a stretch, a burn that bordered on pain, but the pleasure was so intense that you didn’t care. you gripped the edge of the desk, your nails digging into the wood as he began to thrust, hard and deep. his strokes were punctuated with dirty talk that made you feel like a whore, but it only served to make you wetter, to make you want him more.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, feeling his cock fill you completely. his breath was hot and ragged against your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin. “you’re mine, doctor,” he growled. “no better cure than this pussy, fuck.” the words sent a shiver down your spine, and you knew that this was a line you could never uncross. but in that moment, as you felt him thrust inside you with a roar of pleasure, you didn’t care. he was close, his thrusts sloppy as his fingers pulled your hair, your whimpers making his dick twitch.

his hand slid down to cup your ass, his grip tightening as he pounded into you. your tits bounced with every impact, and you could feel his hot breath on your skin as he whispered obscenities in your ear. it was a symphony of degradation and lust, and you were the eager conductor, urging him on. your pussy was tight around his cock, gripping him with every stroke, and you knew you were close to the edge.

suddenly, he pulled out, leaving you feeling empty and needy. you looked up at him, your eyes glazed with passion, and he smirked. “turn over,” he ordered, his voice gruff. you complied, turning onto your stomach and spreading your legs, the cool desk against your burning skin. he stepped behind you, his cock nudging at your entrance again. without warning, he slammed back into you, making you cry out.

the new angle was exquisite, his cock hitting deeper, reaching parts of you that had never been touched before. you pushed back against him, your body begging for more. his hands gripped your hips, his nails digging in as he picked up the pace. “yeah, take it like that, like the slut you are,” he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and command. your cheeks flushed at the words, but you found yourself pushing back even harder, eager to prove his words true. with every thrust, he whispered filthy compliments about your body, his grip on your hips tightening as he fucked you like he owned you.

his hand reached around to play with your clit, his touch sending waves of pleasure through you. your moans grew louder, filling the room. the sound of skin slapping against skin was the only music in the air, a rhythmic crescendo that grew more intense with every second. you felt your orgasm building, your pussy clenching around his cock. “that’s it, doctor. cum for me,” he encouraged, his voice hoarse with lust. and with a final, brutal thrust, you did, your body shuddering with the force of your climax. he followed shortly after, his seed spilling into you, marking you as his.

once the tremors had subsided, he pulled out, leaving you gasping for air. you felt the stickiness between your legs, a reminder of what had just transpired. as you looked back at him, you saw the smug satisfaction on his face, and you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of anger. but it was quickly drowned out by the addictive thrill of the power exchange. you had never felt so alive, so desired. it was therapeutic. and as he stepped closer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, you knew that this was far from over. there was an unspoken promise in his eyes, a challenge for you to come back for more. and you knew, without a doubt, that you would.

as taeyong straightened his clothes, his gaze never left you, the intensity in his eyes as present as ever. he was murmuring something under his breath, and you had to strain to hear his words amidst the whirlwind of emotions you were trying to process. “i feel as if you’ve cured me,” he said softly, his voice carrying a sense of genuine relief.

you blinked, taken aback by his declaration. “are you serious?” you asked, your voice a mixture of disbelief and hope. he nodded slowly, a small, almost serene smile playing on his lips. “yes, i am.”

the room seemed to hold its breath as he began to dress himself, each movement deliberate and composed. your own heart raced as you grappled with the weight of his words. the promise of cure and the possibility of something more twisted together in your mind. he turned to you, his expression serious yet tender.

“i need you to do something for me,” he said, his eyes locking with yours. “anything,” you replied without hesitation, your voice firm despite the storm of emotions brewing within you.

taeyong’s gaze softened slightly, and he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “i need a machine gun.” the request hit you like a jolt. “a machine gun?” you repeated, trying to comprehend the gravity of what he was asking.

“yes,” he confirmed, his voice steady. “if you don’t want to help me, i understand, but i need one.” you were silent for a moment, the enormity of his request settling over you. the ethical and legal implications were enormous, yet the urgency in his tone and the trust he placed in you compelled you to respond. shaking your head, you met his gaze with determination. “i’ll do it.”

taeyong’s eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and gratitude. he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “thank you for curing me.”

the warmth of his touch lingered long after he had left. that night, the enormity of hia request weighed heavily on you, but you were resolute. if this was what he needed, then you would find a way. the loneliness that had plagued you seemed to intensify with the knowledge of his needs, but it also spurred you into action. you spent the evening making discreet, cautious inquiries, your mind racing with worry and determination. you knew the gravity of what you were doing, the potential consequences, but the promise of alleviating your own profound sense of loneliness and his plea drove you forward. finally, after hours of careful navigation through back channels and clandestine meetings, you acquired the machine gun. it was a heavy, ominous object, wrapped in layers of secrecy and dread.

you stored it securely in a hidden compartment of your bag, the weight of it pressing down with a disquieting sense of finality. the next morning, you arrived at the asylum with a mix of dread and anticipation, knowing that the day’s session would be unlike any before. entering your office, you saw taeyong already seated, a patient yet expectant look on his face. your heart skipped a beat as you approached him, the hidden weight of the machine gun in your bag seeming almost to pulse with your anxiety.

“good morning,” you said, forcing a smile. “good morning,” he replied, his eyes immediately catching the glint of anticipation in yours.

you sat down across from him and carefully extracted the machine gun from your bag. his eyes widened in surprise and then satisfaction as you laid the weapon on the desk before him. “i didn’t think you’d actually do it,” he said, his voice a mix of awe and approval. “you said you needed it,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “i wouldn’t let you down.”

taeyong’s gaze softened as he reached out to touch the machine gun, his fingers brushing over the cold metal with a sense of reverence. “thank you,” he said quietly. “i knew you were the right fit for me.” the session continued with a shift in atmosphere. taeyong seemed more at ease, his demeanor less guarded and more open. the conversation flowed with a new ease, and you felt a strange sense of fulfillment. the machine gun, despite its ominous presence, seemed to be a catalyst for something deeper between you.

as the session drew to a close, you found yourself reluctant to leave, savoring the brief moments of connection and understanding. you had made significant strides with taeyong, and the realization that he trusted you so deeply was both exhilarating and unsettling. the rest of the day was spent in a haze of reflection. you sorted through files and paperwork, your mind frequently drifting back to him and the connection you shared. the solitude of your office seemed less oppressive, the quiet punctuated by thoughts of him. each task felt like a distraction from the growing realization that, in taeyong, you had found a source of profound connection.

in the quiet of your office, surrounded by the mundane tasks of your work, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant had shifted. the loneliness that had once felt so encompassing now seemed to have been touched by the fleeting moments of intimacy and connection you had shared with him. you were less alone than you had been before, and yet, the path you were on was fraught with moral and emotional complexity.

the night fell over the asylum with a chilling, almost suffocating stillness. you were at your desk, sorting through a mountain of paperwork, the dim light casting shadows over the piles of files. the routine of your task offered a semblance of normalcy, a brief respite from the whirlwind of emotions and decisions that had consumed you lately. you were lost in the monotony of sorting and filing when an unsettling noise shattered the silence.

the distant sounds of gunshots, crashing furniture, and frantic screams pierced through the walls. your heart leapt into your throat as the reality of what was unfolding outside became painfully clear. Instinctively, you ducked under your desk, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you tried to stifle the rising panic. the noises outside were chaotic, a cacophony of violence and fear that seemed to grow louder by the second.

taeyong’s plan had taken shape, and the asylum was in disarray. he had enlisted the help of several other inmates, each fueled by the same chaotic energy that defined taeyong himself. the sound of gunfire rang out intermittently, each shot a reminder of the danger that now surrounded you. the air was thick with tension, and you could hear the muffled sounds of struggle and conflict as the inmates carried out their rebellion.

the commotion grew closer, and suddenly, two figures burst into your office. your heart pounded in your chest as they grabbed you roughly by the arms. you struggled against their grip, your cries of protest barely audible over the tumult outside. they dragged you to your desk and, despite your frantic attempts to break free, began restraining you with the belts from straitjackets. the leather straps cut into your skin as they bound your arms and legs to the desk, rendering you immobile.

you pleaded with them, your voice trembling with fear and desperation. “please, don’t do this. let me go. i’ll do anything.”

the inmates remained silent, their faces impassive as they completed their task. the office, once a place of calm and control, was now a prison, its familiar surroundings now oppressive and alien. as the last of the restraints were secured, the door creaked open, and taeyong stepped into the room. his appearance was striking against the backdrop of screams. he was calm, almost serene, despite the mayhem that had unfolded. the sight of him brought a mix of relief and dread. you gazed up at him, your eyes wide with terror as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

“taeyong,” you said, your voice quivering. “are you really gonna kill me?”

he walked towards you with an unsettling calm, his expression unreadable. as he neared, he paused, his gaze locking with yours. “i’m not going to kill you,” he assured, his voice soft but carrying a chilling edge. “i just need to hurt you enough to make sure you’ll be mine.”

the words hung heavy in the air, and your heart raced as you watched him produce a small metal device from his pocket. the sight of the electric shock equipment made your blood run cold. it was an instrument of pain, and its presence signaled a new level of cruelty.

to your surprise, taeyong’s expression softened, and he took a step closer. “i know you thought you were helping me,” he said, his tone almost apologetic. “but now it’s my turn to help you.”

the device was cold against your skin as he pressed it to your head. a jolt of electricity surged through you, and your body convulsed involuntarily. the sensation was overwhelming, a harsh intrusion into your consciousness. you felt your mind slipping away from the present, a series of fragmented images and memories flashing before your eyes.

your mother’s face appeared, her eyes filled with pain and sorrow. then, your father, followed by your grandparents, each visage a poignant reminder of loss. the images shifted and morphed, replaced by a vision of yourself with taeyong. you were working together, your roles reversed, with him now a cured man, living with you in a semblance of normalcy. the visions continued, showing a future that was both alluring and terrifying. you saw yourselves speeding down a highway, the police in hot pursuit. the trunk of your car was filled with money, a symbol of the danger and thrill that had become intertwined with your relationship. the exhilaration of the chase was intense, but it was overshadowed by an undercurrent of dread.

the final image was the most haunting. you saw yourself detached, your love for taeyong twisted into something unrecognizable. the thrill had turned into a grim reality, the danger of your actions reflected in the cold, hard truths of your choices. the vision was a cruel reminder of the consequences that awaited you, the stark reality of a future bound by the darkness you had embraced.

as the electric shock subsided, your body trembled uncontrollably. your mind was a whirlpool of conflicting emotions and revelations. you felt a profound sense of numbness, the shock leaving you disoriented and frightened. the room seemed to close in around you, what used to be a familiar space now a prison of your own making. in the end, you wished it had killed you. death seemed more reasonable, more promising, than what the future had in store for you.

✧.*

a/n: requested fic!!! the smut part at least i really dk where i was going with this plot lol

[bullet-prooflove]

Beachside: Travis Wheatley x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @pear-1206 @keyweegirlie @nu1freakshow

Companion piece to:

The Circuit - You're the first person Travis tells about his condition.

Travis doesn’t plan the trip to the beach, it’s just something that happens while the two of you are travelling through Georgia. You’ve been driving along the coast for almost a week now and it occurs to Travis that he can’t remember the last time he actually felt sand underneath his feet.

It’s five in the morning when he pulls up into the vacant car lot. He tells the other guys to take the trailer and carry on without, he’ll catch up with them later. He leaves you sleeping in the passenger seat, his lips brushing over your temple before he shuts the door quietly behind him. The sun is just starting to rise in the distance, he can see the streaks of orange in the sky as the light plays along the soothing waves.

He strips off his boots and then his socks, smiling at the sensation of his feet sinking into the sand. There’s something so cathartic about being near water, he’s always thought that. He doesn’t get much of a chance at home, there’s a couple of lakes a few hours away from his ranch but nothing like this.

The rest of his clothes come off then, his jeans, his shirt, his underwear. He leaves a trail of them across the sand before he steps into the cool water, immersing himself. The sensation it’s bracing, it sends a spike of exhilaration through his muscles as he swims out a few meters before ducking his head under the water.

There’s silence underneath the surface, the noise in his head vanishes and there’s nothing but vastness in that moment. He doesn’t think about his diagnosis, that he barely has a year left in him.

When he comes up for air, it’s the most alive he’s felt in months.

You’re waiting for him on the beach when he finally decides to return to the shore, with a fresh set of clothes and a clean towel. He takes it appreciatively, wrapping it around his waist before he sits down along side of you, the droplets of water still running down his bare chest.

“You didn’t want to join me?” He asks you, his elbows coming to rest on his knees as he stares out across the ocean.

“I thought you may need a little time for yourself.” You tell him, your thumb playing over the worry bracelet on your wrist, the one that he gave you a couple of years back when you’re ex-husband had come back on the scene and was causing all sorts of mischief.

You’ve been playing with it a lot lately, every time he falters, or you hear him vomiting in the bathroom. He hates that he’s doing this to you, that he’s the reason behind your anxiety. When the time comes, when he gets too sick to function, he’s going to disappear, take himself off somewhere private so you don’t have to watch him die.

“Yea. It’s been hard to make peace with it.” He says quietly before he tilts his head towards you. “I don’t want to leave this earth with any regrets but I don’t feel like there’s enough time to rectify all the stupid shit I’ve done over the years.”

“You need to let it go.” You tell him as you nudge his shoulder lightly with your own. “What you did in the past it doesn’t matter, you have to focus on the time you have left.”

The edges of his mouth tip up into a smile as he looks at you. You are everything to him, the sun, the moon, the stars. He’d give you everything if he could, every single part of him.

“Let’s skip the rodeo today.” He says quietly, his fingers interlacing with yours. “Let’s just spend the rest of the day here instead.”

Love Travis? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee