As he mentioned in one of his letters - he had no friends in prison. except partners like Lawrence Bittaker in his business selling pornography to other inmates. When he first came to the yard he was attacked. As he came back from the hospital, he came back to the yard and this time he got stabbed. Other prisoners used to threaten him. Richie was paranoid about his own safety, that's why he barely leaves his cell except visits🥴
You are made of meat (before you are made of paperclips. Don’t worry about the paperclips until you complete your daily quota of considering your carcass weight)
Animals kill for resource competition; resources remain constrained, and humans remain clever and bloodthirsty enough to do the same in more complex environments.
War bands and warlordism is the lowest common denominator basic unit of human society, not the nuclear family. As social units go, the nuclear family is shockingly egalitarian and low-attack surface, geographically mobile and hence agile and resilient compared to other social units, in an environment of restricted kinetic engagement, freedom of movement, and primarily economic competition. The nuclear family is based on the assumption of sufficient resource availability and sufficient threat of violence from the state to prevent war bands from forming and seizing resources from lone men. (To war bands, women are resources. Children can be resources too, as forced labor, slaves [sex, mobile trade goods, or both], adoptees, or small soldiers or weapons).
The thing is, living under a state that prevents warlordism actually is a better deal for 99.9% of the population, and even smart would-be warlords prefer to live in a world in which they can grow old in comfort, surrounded by their grandchildren, consensual fuck buddies, or both, rather than inevitably being killed by a rival, one of the huge number of people he’s harmed and otherwise pissed off, or some combination of both when an immediate family member does him in.
the bathroom light flickers when varis leans over the sink, water dripping off his jawline. he doesn’t wipe it. just stares at himself in the mirror like he’s trying to memorize the angles of his own face. the party downstairs thrums through the floorboards, bass shaking the toothpaste off the edge of the sink. someone’s screaming lyrics off-key. varis doesn’t blink.
"you’re gonna break the mirror if you glare any harder," says a voice from the doorway. clavicular’s leaning against the frame, phone in hand, thumb hovering over the screen like he’s deciding whether to film this. his shirt’s riding up on one side, showing a strip of skin that looks softer than anything in this frat house. varis doesn’t turn around. "what’re you doing up here? thought you were livestreaming the party."
"got bored," clavicular shrugs. "you’re more interesting." he says it like it’s nothing, like he’s commenting on the weather. varis finally turns, water still clinging to his collarbones. clavicular’s eyes flick down, then back up, too fast to be casual. "also, your roommate dared me to steal your hoodie. said you’d freak."
varis snorts. "it’s on the bed. take it." he’s not wearing one, just a tight black tank that’s probably cutting off circulation to his arms. clavicular doesn’t move. the silence stretches, warped by the distant thud of the music. "you gonna do it or not?"
"nah." clavicular pockets his phone. "you’re kinda weird when you’re not performing for the camera. i like it." he says it like it’s a secret, like they’re not standing in a bathroom with piss stains on the tile. varis watches him leave, the door swinging shut behind him. the mirror’s fogged up where his breath hit the glass.
downstairs, the crowd’s gotten louder. someone’s chanting chug. varis wipes his face with the back of his hand and follows the noise. clavicular’s already back in the thick of it, phone raised, laughing at something a pledge says. varis doesn’t join them. just leans against the wall and watches the way clavicular’s throat moves when he drinks.
"you’re staring," clavicular says later, sidling up to him. his breath smells like cheap beer. "people are gonna think you’re obsessed with me."
"shut up," varis says, but he doesn’t look away. clavicular grins, all teeth.
the party dies around 3am. varis finds clavicular half-asleep on the couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands like a kid. "you lost the dare," varis says, nudging him with his knee. clavicular mumbles something unintelligible. "come on. you can’t stay here."
"carry me," clavicular slurs, arm flopping out like he expects varis to actually do it. varis rolls his eyes but grabs his wrist anyway, hauling him upright. clavicular stumbles into him, warm and off-balance. "see? you *are* obsessed."
varis doesn’t answer. just drags him upstairs.
the bedroom door clicks shut behind them, muffling the last dregs of the party’s noise. clavicular flops onto varis’s bed face-first, limbs splayed like a starfish. "your mattress is stupidly comfortable," he mumbles into the sheets. "bet you fuck so many people on this thing."
varis kicks off his shoes, not bothering with the laces. "you’re the first one dumb enough to let me drag you up here." he flicks the lamp on, casting the room in a dim orange glow. clavicular rolls onto his back, squinting up at him. his hair’s a mess, sticking up in every direction. varis wants to put his hand in it.
"liar," clavicular says, but he’s smiling. "i saw the condom wrapper under your bed."
"that’s from 2022." varis sits on the edge of the mattress, close enough that their knees brush. clavicular’s skin is warm through his jeans. "you gonna steal my hoodie or not?"
clavicular reaches up, fingers curling into the hem of varis’s tank. "nah. wanna steal this instead." he tugs, just enough to make the fabric strain across varis’s chest.
varis catches his wrist. "you’re drunk."
"and you’re avoiding the question." clavicular’s thumb traces the inside of varis’s palm, slow, deliberate. the calluses on varis’s fingers catch against his skin. "you were watching me all night. don’t think i didn’t notice."
the lamp flickers. outside, a car alarm goes off. varis doesn’t let go. "you’re annoying."
"you like it." clavicular sits up, swaying slightly. his nose bumps against varis’s jaw. "tell me to stop."
varis doesn’t.
clavicular kisses like he talks—messy, all teeth and no finesse. his hands fist in varis’s shirt, pulling him closer until they’re chest to chest. varis grips his hips, fingers digging into the softness there. clavicular makes a noise against his mouth, half-laugh, half-something else. "knew you were into me," he breathes.
"shut up," varis growls, and flips them over. the bed creaks. clavicular’s legs wrap around his waist like he’s done this before, like he knows exactly how they fit together. his phone buzzes on the nightstand, screen lighting up with notifications. neither of them reach for it.
"your roommate’s gonna hear us," clavicular murmurs, arching up when varis bites his neck.
"he’s passed out in the shower." varis yanks clavicular’s shirt off, tossing it somewhere on the floor. clavicular’s chest rises fast, his ribs sharp under varis’s hands. "you still wanna back out?"
clavicular grins, lazy and bright. "make me."
varis does.
later, when the room’s gone quiet except for their breathing, clavicular traces the veins on varis’s arm with one finger. "people are gonna lose their shit when they find out," he says. his voice is rough.
"let them." varis turns his head, catching clavicular’s wrist again. this time, he presses a kiss to the pulse point there. clavicular’s breath hitches.
outside, the sun’s starting to rise. clavicular’s phone dies. varis doesn’t let go.
the morning light seeps in through the blinds, painting stripes across clavicular’s back. he’s curled into varis’s side, one arm thrown over his waist like he’s claiming territory in his sleep. varis watches the rise and fall of his ribs, the way his lashes flutter when he dreams. his phone’s been buzzing nonstop for the past hour—somewhere downstairs, the remnants of the party are still groaning to life. varis ignores it. presses his nose into clavicular’s hair instead. it smells like sweat and cheap shampoo.
"you’re staring again," clavicular mumbles, voice thick with sleep. he doesn’t open his eyes.
"you’re not even looking," varis says, but his hand’s already sliding up clavicular’s spine, thumb rubbing circles between his shoulder blades. clavicular shivers, pressing closer. his toes brush varis’s calf, cold. "steals my bed, steals my body heat—what’s next, my dignity?"
clavicular cracks one eye open. "already took that last night." his grin is slow, smug. varis pinches his hip, and clavicular yelps, squirming away. "ow, fuck—you’re such an asshole."
"you love it," varis says, pulling him back. clavicular goes willingly, tucking his face into the crook of varis’s neck. his lips brush skin there, feather-light. varis tenses. "don’t start something you can’t finish."
"who says i can’t finish?" clavicular nips at his jaw, fingers skating down varis’s stomach. the sheet pools around their waists. "you got class today?"
"yes."
"skip it."
varis catches his wrist. "you’re insufferable."
clavicular licks a stripe up his throat. "you’re into it." his hand slips lower, and varis’s breath stutters. the bed creaks. outside, someone’s vomiting in the bushes. clavicular doesn’t stop. "tell me you don’t want this."
varis doesn’t. just rolls them over, pinning clavicular to the mattress. clavicular’s laugh is breathless, his knees bracketing varis’s hips. "knew you’d cave," he says, arching up. his phone buzzes again, screen lighting up with a tiktok notification. varis grabs it and chucks it across the room. clavicular gasps. "dude, that’s my—"
"shut up," varis says, and kisses him. clavicular’s hands tangle in his hair, pulling hard enough to hurt. varis groans into his mouth. the sheet slips off completely. clavicular’s skin is warm under his palms, his thighs shaking when varis bites the inside of one. "you’re loud."
"you’re obnoxious," clavicular pants, but he’s grinning, his cheeks flushed. "fuck, do that again—"
the door bangs open. "yo, varis, you seen my—oh shit." the pledge freezes in the doorway, eyes wide. clavicular doesn’t move, just flips him off over varis’s shoulder. "uh. sorry. i’ll just—"
"close the door on your way out," varis says, not looking up. the pledge scrambles to obey. clavicular bursts into laughter, collapsing against the pillows. "what?"
"your face," clavicular wheezes. "you looked so *pissed*." he wipes his eyes, still giggling. "that kid’s gonna tell everyone."
"let him." varis drags clavicular back down, biting his collarbone. clavicular yelps, but his hips jerk up, eager. "you gonna let a little audience stop you?"
clavicular’s grin turns sharp. "hell no." he wraps his legs around varis’s waist, pulling him closer. "make it worth his while."
varis does.
later, when the room’s sticky with sweat and the sun’s properly high, clavicular stretches like a cat, his back popping. "i should probably check my phone," he says, not moving. "my dms are probably exploding."
"mm." varis traces the bruise on clavicular’s hip with his thumb. "regrets?"
clavicular turns his head, studying him. his eyes are bright, pupils blown. "nah. you?"
varis doesn’t answer. just leans down and kisses him, slow this time, nothing like the frantic mess from before. clavicular melts into it, his hands gentle where they cup varis’s jaw. when they break apart, clavicular’s lips are red, bitten raw. "you didn’t answer," he murmurs.
"you know i don’t." varis reaches over to the nightstand, fumbling for the drawer. the lube’s half-empty, condoms shoved to the back. clavicular watches him with heavy-lidded eyes, his breath coming faster. "you sure?"
"i’ll kick your ass if you stop now," clavicular says, but his voice cracks on the last word. varis smirks, slicking his fingers. clavicular’s thighs tremble when varis pushes the first one in, his back arching off the bed. "fuck—"
"told you you’re loud," varis mutters, but his own breathing’s uneven. clavicular’s tight, hot around his fingers, his hips jerking with every twist. "relax."
"easy for you to say," clavicular grits out, but he forces himself to exhale, his muscles loosening incrementally. varis crooks his fingers, and clavicular chokes, his nails digging into varis’s forearm. "oh shit—do that again—"
varis does, watching the way clavicular’s face screws up in pleasure, the way his thighs clamp around varis’s wrist. "you’re a mess," he says, but it comes out fond. clavicular flips him off weakly.
when varis finally pushes in, clavicular’s mouth falls open, a soundless gasp. varis has to stop, gritting his teeth, the stretch almost too much. clavicular’s fingers scramble at his shoulders, blunt nails scraping skin. "move," he demands, voice wrecked. "c’mon, don’t be a pussy—"
varis slams into him, cutting off the rest with a groan. clavicular shouts, his legs locking around varis’s waist. the bed creaks dangerously, the headboard hitting the wall with each thrust. clavicular’s fingers tangle in the sheets, his back bowed, every inch of him trembling. "fuck, fuck—"
varis leans down, biting clavicular’s shoulder, his hips snapping forward. clavicular’s moan is ragged, his cock leaking between them. "touch yourself," varis orders, and clavicular obeys immediately, his hand fumbling between them. he comes with a broken cry, his body clamping down around varis like a vise. varis follows, his vision whiting out at the edges.
they collapse in a heap, sticky and panting. clavicular’s hair is plastered to his forehead, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "holy shit," he breathes. varis hums in agreement, too spent to form words.
clavicular turns his head, his nose brushing varis’s cheek. "so. that happened."
"yeah." varis tugs him closer, ignoring the mess between them. clavicular goes easily, tucking himself under varis’s chin. his heartbeat is loud against varis’s skin. "you good?"
"peachy." clavicular’s voice is already slurring with exhaustion. "just don’t expect me to walk tomorrow."
varis snorts, running a hand down clavicular’s spine. "dramatic."
"accurate," clavicular corrects, yawning. his fingers trace idle patterns on varis’s chest. "you’re still skipping class, right?"
"shut up." varis flicks his ear. clavicular laughs, sleep-rough and warm.
outside, the frat house is finally quiet. clavicular’s breathing evens out, his limbs going heavy against varis. varis watches the sunlight crawl across the floor, his fingers tangled in clavicular’s hair. it’s stupid, how easy this feels. how right.
