#Cleaning Steam Mop Without Dead Corners

[hangzhoujuyi]

KL606H Cleaning Steam Mop Without Dead Corners

KL606H Simple Design Steam Mop Like steam mops it has a water reservoir where you fill water. The capacity of the reservoir determines how long you can use the mop before needing to refill it. Steam mops can clean laminate floors, With a heat-up time of only 30 seconds, the device is ready to use in no time.

Company Name:Hangzhou Juyi Technology Co., Ltd. Web:https://www.hzjeasyl.com/product/steam-mop/kl606h-cleaning-steam-mop-without-dead-corners.html ADD:The Southern Industrial Development Area, Meicheng Town, Jiande City,Zhejiang, China Phone:86-15505887136 Email:coco@hzjeasyl.com Profile:Hangzhou Juyi Technology Co., Ltd, is committed to the development and manufacture of steam cleaning products. Our brand’s focus is to improve human health and environmental protection, advocate a healthy idea, and serve people in love with life sincerely. Our company covers an area of 3729 square meters, with a workshop area of 30,000 square meters. Juyi has modern laboratories with well-appointed testing equipment and production equipment. We have several invention patents, such as steam condensate reflux control has obtained international invention patents.

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

actually good cleaning hacks from someone who’s been through some shit

Get a steam mop I don’t care how much it is or cheap, just get one

if you have a pet invest in a wet dry vacuum, you will thank me.

get cleaning cloths you actually like the feel of, if you hate microfiber get a cheap set of tea towels and use them instead. Or chop up a dead tee shirt and use that.

plug in vacuums are 2x more powerful than non-plug in vacuums. You trade sucking power for mobility with cordless, so think that over when you get one.

buying a cheap mop every time one gets moldy is cheaper than having to deal with any mold you get from using a moldy mop.

invest in disinfectant/antifungal/antiviral/antibacterial liquid for your laundry, because that stuff makes getting rid of moldy musty musky shit easy. And it cleans your cleaning cloths without getting them greasy or soapy.

to fix “I accidentally left my clothes in the washing machine too long now they smell like mold” thing, you will need antifungal laundry liquid and the literal sun. Wash your clothes on the hottest setting you can with your clothing materials in mind, add the antifungal before you start, let it go for like 2 hours. And put it in the sun to dry. Repeat if it still smells moldy, until it doesn’t anymore, works like a charm!

to clean crystalline dog piss, you will need water, a steam mop, a wet dry vacuum (depending on if it’s in a carpet) dog cleaning spray or vinegar. Basically , rehydrate the piss, clean it up with dog spray or HOT vinegarish water, grab a steam mop and steam it (if not on carpet) and viola it should be okay now.

If it’s in the carpet you will need to rehydrate the piss, then just dowse the piss with water, use the wet dry vacuum to suck up the water, repeat until water comes up clean. Use whatever pet cleaner that’s good on your carpet to get the smell out, Patch test it in the corner of the carpet before you do it on the piss spot, soak up and remaining water from the carpet until it’s dry or blow dry it if you have to. And tada you have a cleaner carpet! The same works for dog shit too.

drain snakes are your best friend if you don’t remember to get the hair out the drain.

have one sponge for wiping down the sink and one for washing your dishes, because sometimes it’s easier to use a sponge to wipe down the sink than a cleaning cloth.

You can put sponges in the dishwasher and it cleans them REALLY WELL, do it everyday if you can.

Invest in a good glass cleaner for glass because when it gets greasy it’s hell.

Koh cleaner will literally cut through grease and oil, and fat. Like it wasn’t even there, if you don’t have the money white vinegar and bi-carbs does the same thing. Though be careful because it’s reactive and might destroy your countertop or pots, just invest in koh your life won’t be the same. (I can clean all the grease off things, that’s how good it works. Plus it doesn’t smell!!!)

Replace your toilet cleaner every 3 months, or make sure you don’t let it fester. That’s more of a hassle than replacing it every now and then.

Get a good dish soap, because you can use it for everything because of how mild it is.

After mopping always steam mop otherwise it will always be streaky or tacky, idk why but steam mops fix this 9/10 times.

there’s more, but I;m too tired.

[goroaix]

At the end of my wild day, you flow endlessly in my heart   

Yoo Kihyun & Liu Yangyang (Platonic). Yoo Kihyun x Xiao Dejun

Photographer & racer AU. Half siblings AU. Angst and fluff.

Traumatic childhoods, unkind parents. Abandonment issues. Mentions of miscarriages.

48k as of chapter 9. Update schedule is random

『 Kihyun was nothing but a clueless little boy - the sleek polaroid that was nestled between his fingers was more than enough evidence of this. It was of his mother's infidelity; the miscarriage; the end of his family. And, most important of all, his newly discovered brother:

Liu Yangyang. 』

Kihyun had never been in the attic before, at least, not that he could remember. It was a space that was full of dust that clung to his every inhale and felt like it was choking him when he had first entered. He wasn’t here out of his own volition, far from it really.

Instead, he had been asked to come here by his mother - unable to do the cleaning herself and asking him out of the blue if he would help clean it out since it would cost extra to ask others to do it. Who was Kihyun to say no?

The floorboards creaked under the weight of each step, kicking up even more dust as he coughed into his fist. It was clear that no one had been inside for years upon years, perhaps even decades at this point.

Everything within was typical of an attic store room. Rolls of unused carpet and rugs were nestled in a corner, and a rickety old wardrobe was positioned against the back of the furthest wall with the mirror shattered - casting his image ten times over and distorting as he came closer.

Kihyun immediately began with getting as much dust off of the surfaces as possible and forcing open the windows when he neared them. A mask was pulled over his face before he turned on the hoover, getting into the corners and mercilessly sucking up every cobweb and spider that he could see. They weren’t anything he was afraid of but he doubted the new owners would have liked to see an eight legged haven in their attic.

Just the hoovering alone took almost an hour, the air finally breathable when he had finished though he kept the mask on regardless. Next was getting his hands dirty and wiping down the surfaces and mopping the floor, both tasks of which took another two hours.

He almost regretted saying yes to his mother, completely underestimating how much work it really was, but he wasn’t one to back down and especially not when it had been requested of him after months of dead end conversations where he longed for something more. If he could prove himself to be trustworthy, a better son than she thought of him, maybe their relationship could change.

A heavy sigh escaped him, sweat wiped from his forehead as he pushed his hair away from his face and caught another glimpse of himself in the shattered mirror. His skin was flushed from the heat and face covered in a light sheen of moisture, the tips of his fringes damp and sticking to his forehead. This was definitely going to be an entire day's process (yet the last thing he wanted to do was spend his time here without even an utterance of thanks).

The light outside transformed from early morning, high morning, afternoon and then finally settled into the end of the evening, the sun creating hues of orange and rose pink across the horizon. His stomach growled and he could only just remember the faint hints of his rushed lunch of steamed rice and tomato curry. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like he would have much to do tomorrow with only the wardrobe left to disassemble and take outside to the skip. Perhaps he could let off some steam by breaking it into pieces with a hammer, he thought with a slight smile.

More than ready to head home by now, he began the process of taking all his things out of the attic, the cleansing supplies taken out by the armful before the hoover was dragged behind him and landed on the flooring of the bedroom below with a hefty thud that seemed to shake the boards under his feet.

He climbed the stairs one last time, looking around to see if everything was okay and it was; there was nothing left behind apart from a rug and the wardrobe. It was hauled up, hands grabbing at the roll and obscuring his vision in one eye as he waddled forwards.

However, he hadn’t seen the lifted floorboard that had been obscured only a moment ago and he fell forwards with a yelp, hands letting go to flail at nothing before breaking his fall. His palms stung and he sat up quickly, glaring fiercely at the offending item.

“What the hell?” He almost crawled to get a better look before deciding that getting up and walking was better.

The floorboard looked like it had been pried off and poorly set down again. The nail was loose and, over time, had curled up. The weight of the rug was seemingly the only thing that had been holding it down. This in itself was nothing interesting and Kihyun didn’t care enough to try and fix it, but when he looked closer and squinted his eyes, he realised that there was something stuffed in the space underneath.

Reaching in, he prayed it wasn’t anything gross and closed his fingers around the object before pulling it out. In his hand was a locked journal, one that was also coated in a fine layer of dust with the cover being of a simple faux brown leather. There was no title or indication of an owner so Kihyun decided to just take it with him.

He figured he was allowed to be just a little nosy after all this hassle.

Read the rest on AO3

[extremelyblackandwhite]

the unseen one - 25

 Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: y/n and bucky fight

A/N: ik braid sewing was way more popular in roman culture than in greek one but i personally love it and it’s probably the one way i can get my hair to stay put whenever i go on a run. hope you enjoy xx

Next Chapter

Y/N was homesick. 

Ever since the dinner all she could think about was the mortal realm, the sounds of rain hitting the glass of her window as she cuddled under her large duvet, her old kettle steaming from the hob, Anne’s laughter and countless tellings of various failed love attempts, the children in her kindergarten, all of it. This wasn’t to say she didn’t enjoy Bucky’s company, she loved it, she loved having him around but the thought of being confined here forever without ever getting to see at least her flat again terrified her. 

Another day had started in the Underworld and per usual Bucky was the first up on his feet and out to prepare the Spring Festival necessities while Y/N was left behind. There wasn’t much to do rather than ever so slightly meeting with Hecate who had started to just plain ignore her existence whenever she visited the Elysium, speaking with Psyche whenever she unceremoniously was thrown into the Underworld by her mother in law and walk the river Styx’s shores. Y/N had returned to the kitchen, placing James’ kettle on the stove and grabbing a mug as she sat on the balcony, losing herself on her own thoughts and only being removed from it by the kettle steaming out of control. She jumped from the balcony feeling her feet weirdly tingle, which was ignored fast as she grabbed the white mug and the kettle, pouring hot water onto it. The weight of it proved somehow to be too much for her and before she could act on it, she let go of the mug, loosing strength in her hand and the once silent atmosphere was filled by the shattering sound of porcelain. 

     - Shit. - she mumbled as she leaned down to grab the big shards, putting them on top of the balcony, before bracing her hands on the edge of it, forcefully shutting her eyes. One of the servants, alarmed by the sound, came rushing in, immediately grabbing a mop and brush. - It’s alright, I can clean it. 

    - We don’t want you to hurt yourself, m’am. - the man smiled at her before dismissing her from the kitchen. Y/N climbed up to her bedroom, getting dressed in a regular beige dress before going out of the house, basket in arms. She thought about collecting some plants for the house and so she made her way to the Elysium. 

The sound and smell of nature at its bloom immediately brought a smile back to her face. Some trees had begin to show its fruits and most of the flowers were in bloom. She collected some flowers and fruits before taking a seat on one patch of grass watching the souls carelessly live their life. However one particular soul caught her attention. 

    - Mum? - she furrowed her brows, lips slightly parted as she got onto her feet watching a figure that looked particular like her mother. - Mum! 

She dropped her basket, bunching the fabric of her dress in her hands as she rushed over to the figure. It was her mother, it looked like her mother, the same hair, the same eyes and the same warming smile she got whenever she rushed into her bedroom after a terrifying nightmare as a child. Her mother however looked at her like she didn’t know her, turning on her back to join some other souls.

    - Mum! - Y/N called out once again but her mother only ignored her and soon enough she could feel her tears rolling down her cheek. - Mum, please

    - Y/N. - a familiar voice called out her name. She turned around to see the redhead goddess of witchcraft with a worried look on her face, she could even say care. - She doesn’t remember you, Y/N. Elysium souls have no recollection of their mortal lives. 

    - But she’s my mum. How can she not know who I am? - Hecate’s heart clenched at the words that sounded way too similar to those once spoken by James once he became the King of the Underworld. She tightened her lips, patting the girl on her shoulder and handing her the basket she had previously dropped.

    - We should probably go meet Hades. - she put her other hand on her shoulder, successfully removing her from here she was standing and taking her to the path that led to where she had least seen James which was in the Fates domain within the Elysium. The Fates’ side of the Elysium was always something rather odd, even for Hecate. Y/N watched as they passed halls and halls of name boxes with several coloured orbs.

    - What are those? - she pointed to the orbs that were inside the box containing James’ name, her curiosity perking up. 

   - Memory orbs. The Fates control and keep every single memory experienced by a god or mortal, I’ve heard their colour determine what type of memory. 

   - I think I wanna look around. - Y/N stated and Hecate stopped to pounder. She probably would be able to find the god of the dead quicker if Y/N wasn’t stopping every inch of the way to question about something that sparked her interest. 

   - Okay but stay here, don’t go wandering off! - she sternly said before going off her way to find James. Y/N watched as her figure disappeared in the hall and immediately rushed to James box, carefully pushing it out onto her arms and then onto the floor. Her eyes shined as she looked at the pretty colours flow inside the orbs, a special red one calling for her attention. Y/N knew she shouldn’t pick it, she shouldn’t be curious, these were James’ memories and she shouldn’t be lurking on them but her curiosity got the best of her and she immediately grabbed the red orb. What she wasn’t expecting was the sudden feeling on her left arm, almost feeling it being teared off which made her drop the orb onto the ground. Hand flying to hold her left arm as the orb rolled a bit away from her, flashes of someone screaming Bucky’s name and the harsh feeling of cold snow and sorrow rushing through her as if they were her memory. She stared at it, unbelieving to what had just happened and to the pain that had lodged itself on her left arm yet nothing was harming her and no injury was seen in sight. 

   - Y/N? - she heard James’ voice and immediately tried to place the orb back on its box which only made the pain return which in turn made her drop the orb once again. In no time James’ had localised her, his eyes going from the box with his name and the red orb on the floor to Y/N’s laying against the shelf of boxes, her hand holding onto her left shoulder. His lips tightened as he crutched down to where she was laying. - What are you doing?

   - I saw my mum. - she decided to sway the topic but the one she had swayed to somehow hurt her. - She didn’t know me. 

   - Don’t take it personally, sunflower. - he kissed her temple, flesh hand coming to caress her cheek. - It happens to everyone. My parents, my sister, even my friend don’t remember who I am.

   - Why? Why do you make them forget if they’re in paradise?

   - I guess the memory of leaving their loved ones in the mortal realm pains them too much. Would work more like a punishment. 

   - What about you? Isn’t that punishment to you too?

   - No, sunflower. I remember them all.

   - That’s not what I mean ... they don’t remember you. - she leaned her head against the bookcase, staring into his blue eyes. - Isn’t that too harsh of a punishment for a god?

   - The only punishment is being alive, sunflower. Not forgetfulness, not remembering, it’s still being alive after so long.

   - James ... - she took her hand way from her shoulder to cup his cheek, caressing it ever so slightly. She brought her face closer to him, lightly pecking his lips. 

   - We should go, this is no place for you. - he cleared his throat, getting up from his sitting position and offering her his hand. She however did not take it, still feeling the ghost pain in her left arm. - It’s not real, Y/N. You are okay.

   - I can feel it. - she looked up through her lashes at him. - What happened?

   - It’s not important.

   - Why do you always do that? - she knew she shouldn’t be mad, heck he should be the one mad at her but with all that had happened today so far, something in her snapped. - Why do you always tell me it’s not important when it clearly is? Don’t you trust me?

   - Of course I do, sunflower. You just don’t need to know about my past, it’s irrelevant. 

   - Is that memory the one of how you lost your arm? - she pressed him, looking away from his arm to the orb. - Is that what happened? 

   - Y/N, don’t question me. Come up. 

   - You are not the boss of me. - she ignored the hand he had offered to her, instead holding onto one of the shelf’s wooden bars and getting up by herself, storming off. 

   - Y/N, stop. - Bucky took the tone he normally took with his employees which immediately made her stop and turn to look at him before storming off again in a huff. - Y/N, cut it off. Damn it, I’m ordering you to stop. 

   - You’re not ordering me to do anything. You’re not my King and you will not talk to me as if you were. 

   - There is a lot of stuff that you don’t understand, Y/N. 

   - Then explain it to me. - she almost begged him. 

   - I cant.

   - Why not?

   - BECAUSE YOU WOULDN’T LOVE ME IF I FUCKING DID, Y/N. - he held her forearms, looking at her with what looked like tears starting to accumulate near the corner of his eyes, ready to roll down his cheeks. - You don’t know half of it and if you did you wouldn’t have spoken to me.

   - I would. 

   - No, you ...

   - I know you were the Winter Soldier. - she blurted out casually, almost as if she was talking about the weather. Truth was she knew, after he had told her about Steve it didn’t take long for the memories of when she went to the museum to hit her. She knew an abbreviated form of the story, not exactly what he’d been through, but she knew. Bucky was taken aback by her statement, blue eyes wide staring at her. - I know you were the Winter Soldier and I love you.

Bucky was still staring at her, eyes fully wide as his brain still processed those words. She knew. Well, of course she knew, it wasn’t like she hadn’t grown up in the new age of superheroes. She just, she just didn’t appear to be the type of woman to care much for that. Yet there she was, arms crossed across her chest, calm complexion. 

   - Say something. - she bite onto her lip nervously. She let go of her crossed arm position, slowly padding towards him, her hand trailing from his metal one to his shoulder, fingers dancing on the place where metal met flesh. - Please. 

   - What do you want me to say? - he leaned his head on her touch, thoughts running through his mind of how his fellow deities would react to him being this submissive to a mortal of no god birth or immortal blood. - Because I sincerely don’t know what to tell you, Y/N. 

    - Do you wanna tell me how it happened? I know how it felt and I’d rather hear it from you.

   - Not today. - he kissed the top of her head. - I will, just not today. 

Y/N left Bucky to do his work despite his complaints of wanting to be with her after seeing her mother. She knew better about not messing with the Spring Festival which was fast approaching. The sooner it got, the least she saw of James with all the preparations and meeting with Zeus that Bucky wouldn’t let her hear or even be nearby. Soon enough, it was only one day until the Spring Festival and Hecate had invited her to be with her nymphs for the opening ceremony, something she had been rather excited over as that meant she wouldn’t have to mingle with the rest of the gods and goddesses who mostly did not enjoy her presence or the fact she was with the King of the Underworld. 

Y/N excitingly opened the box Hecate had delivered to James’ home in the early morning, happy to see what she was wearing. Following what the Charon and other nymphs had discussed with her, every nymph wore a colour and a flower in order to honour the goddess of spring and the harvest. As she removed the protective silk paper from the gown, she noticed her colour was white and in a smaller box near the dress was a hair crown of white roses. She guessed it made sense, considering the flower seemed to haunt her.

The day couldn’t come sooner and much to Bucky’s dismay Y/N was out the door in the morning, box in hand and headed to the Elysium, specially Persephone’s groves. All the nymphs were getting ready, laughter and song in the air along with various flowers thrown on the floor giving the dead nature of the grooves some sort of happiness. 

Y/N took to getting herself dressed before taking a place in one of the free vanities to do her hair. She looked around looking at the nymphs happily pining, curling and sewing their hair away in unbelievably hard hairstyles. Y/N tried her best to pull her hair up only to sigh and lean against her chair. 

       - I’ll give you hand. - Hecate walked from behind her, her stoic look still present on most her features as she grabbed the silver brush from the vanity. Y/N understood why Hecate wasn’t a fan of her, she, after all, was extremely passionate over her domains and protecting everything. 

      - Thank you. - she watched her reflection in the mirror as Hecate divided her hair in two and braided each section. Following, she grabbed a needle and white yarn, sewing the two braids together and upwards in what looked like a singular double braid that now wrapped itself around the lower part of her head from ear to ear. Hecate placed the brush on the vanity grabbing the crown of fresh white roses and placing it upon her head.

     - You’re all set. Come on. - Hecate rushed her to walk into where the celebrations were to set place. In the middle of the beautiful greenery there was a porcelain mast with various coloured ribbons which was started to being surrounded by various deities. - All the nymphs of the Underworld get a coloured ribbon the same as their gown and dance around the mast, wrapping the ribbon around it until it snaps. The ribbon that doesn’t snap is decided maiden of the harvest and gets to crown someone to be her consort with their own flower crown. The pair gets the first dance.

      - Oh, I’m a terrible dancer.

      - You probably won’t get it. You’d have to be greatly in favour of Gaia in order to get it. - she tightened her lips. - However, in the slightest chance you get the honour of being chosen maiden, remember to pick Apollo, Priapus even. Any of the gods related to the act of love and beauty will suffice, it’s good to be in their graces.

Y/N stood in line with the other nymphs, her eyes scouting the crowd for her Bucky, but it was him who found her first, watching from afar as some minor gods spoke of various new achievements and demigods they’re fathered. However, now that he had spotted her, he was much more interested in looking at her unless of listening to them. He watched as she scurried around like a nervous little nymph to the mast, grabbing the white ribbon and finally took in her whole appearance, judging her to be officially the prettiest of all living things. Hecate ordered Apollo and his muses to start the sweet music that filled Elysium’s air which made the nymphs and Y/N start to go around the pole. 

Her eyes left the pole for a few seconds, watching as every single god and goddess of the Greek pantheon watched in awe before immediately turning to look at the pole, watching the pink and purple ribbons snap away causing some disgruntled noises for a few moments. One by one most ribbons snapped away until hers and a blue one were the only ones standing. Y/N sighed, ready to go back to James, expecting her to be the next one to snap until the sound of ripping fabric removed her from her thoughts. However, instead of seeing her own arm freed from the ribbon, she watched as the last blue ribbon laid on the ground and her own still tightly wrapped around her wrist. 

She quickly unwrapped the ribbon of her wrist, quickly massaging it before bringing both hands to take her own rose crown off her head as she stared at the crowd in front of her like a deer in headlights. A few gods cleared their throats, smirks on their faces, clearly expecting the honour to be bestowed upon them. Hecate’s words rang like heavy bells in her head but she was never one to follow them and soon enough she found herself walking towards the exact and only person she knew would be worth such bestowment. Next to him, stood Ares and Zeus who quite conceitedly took a step forward only to wide their eyes as the mortal woman who had just been chosen by Gaia’s forces to be the maiden of the harvest placed her white rose crown confidently upon the head of the God of the Underworld.

     - Now, what about that. - she could hear the goddess of love and beauty mumble under her breathe, somehow being the only deity not surprised by the odd choice. How ironic the maiden of the harvest had picked someone who did not even harvest the souls he ruled over. James rather surprisingly took her hand in his, guiding her to the middle of the circle the gods had created, turning his body to face hers. 

     - I can’t dance. - she whispered under her breath, ashamed anyone but him could hear it. 

     - I can dance well enough for both of us, sunflower.

tag list: @philogrobizedvee​​​​​​  @keithseabrook27​​​​​ @inlovewith3​​​​19 @nwbstan​ @romanoffs-heart​

[icarusbynight]

After shower

A/N: Something else concerning my favourite couple that I wrote and forgot to publish. Forewarning, this gets really explicit near the end. So if that makes you uncomfortable, please dont go further.

Woosh

Rickey smiled as the basketball sailed through the air and through the hoop. Across the gym, floor basketballs lay scattered as evidence the last four hours spent practising. His shoulders ached, and sweat covered both his face and stained his sweatshirt, but he felt…good.

The sound of clapping reverberated throughout the gym and Rickey turned towards the sound, wiping his face slightly with his shirt.

It’s funny how a few weeks of working together could change a person’s perspective on another. That was how Ricky found himself smiling, rather than frowning in irritation, at the clapper: E.J. Caswell.

“Well that was better than the last hundred attempts”, E.J said, walking towards him and kicking away the balls that were in his way.

Ricky snorted, and rolled his eyes, “Maybe if you were a better teacher, I would have gotten it the first ninety-nine.”

Who could’ve known that getting the role of Troy Bolton would have actually required him to improve his basketball skills? Ricky Bowen was a skater, and some skills really weren’t that transferable. Thankfully, that was where E.J had volunteered his services as perhaps the most athletic member of their drama troupe.

And it had worked, the last few days spent after rehearsals in the gym had seen Ricky move from missing every shot, to only missing half of them. Another plus side was that he found E.J less annoying. To quote perhaps one of the greatest films of all time, E.J was like an onion, and the younger teen was discovering that there were indeed layers to him.

E.J had his phone in his hand: “Carlos texted me. Everyone’s meeting at his place for the night.”

Ricky nodded, beginning to clean up the stray basketballs, “Alright sweet. So we’ll just finish cleaning up here, I’ll skate home, shower, and meet you guys there.”

Moving to help him, E.J raised an eyebrow almost incredulously, “Why go through all that?”

“What? I stink dude” he laughed, as he pushed the ball cart to the back of the gym with E.J in tow.

“What I mean is that you don’t have to skate all the way home. You literally live in the opposite direction” E.J countered, unlocking the gym’s storage closet, “I have extra clothes, plus there are showers here.”

Ricky blushed, he hadn’t even thought of the school showers. Even in gym class, they were something he tried to avoid; the gross floors, the never knowing whether you were going to get hot or cold water, the mass of bodies…

“…and besides its only me and you here”, E.J was still talking, and the sound of his voice jostled Ricky out of his own thoughts.

“Oh”, he mumbled out, “I mean yeah…sure no problem, in and outright?”

E.J grinned and punched him lightly on the shoulder, “Yep, in and out.”

It was often hard to remember that East High was an old school. Built originally in the ’30s, the building had gone through so many changes and upgrades, that it looked like any new school in the greater Salt Lake area. That was of course, until you reached the gym showers, which looked as if they hadn’t seen construction since they were first installed. They were completely open, blue tiles covering the walls and the slightly downward-sloping floor that led to a central drain. Slightly rusted showerheads lined the walls, and during regular hours it was a mystery which one would actually work.

After locking away the remaining basketballs, this was where the two teenagers found themselves. Leading the way into the locker room area, E.J had already begun to undress. With a swift motion, he removed his t-shirt, and Ricky could practically see the muscles in his back flexing.

‘Fuck’

E.J had unlocked his locker, pulling out a towel, soap, and shampoo. With a turn of his head, he looked back at Ricky standing there, “You getting undressed or what dude?”

Ricky blushed and turned around. ‘What the hell is wrong with me? I feel like Big Red whenever he’s trying to talk to Ashlyn’.  Behind him, he could hear the sound of E.J unbuckling his belt, and of clothes being dropped.

There were many reasons why Ricky didn’t like the gym showers, and chief among them was the proximity. That’s not to say that the skater was afraid of closeness, although Nini might disagree, the gym showers were different. It was like entering a world where nothing made sense.

With a sigh, the younger teen began to undress. Running a hand through the sweaty mop of curls, Ricky quickly removed his sweatshirt. His sweatpants followed, leaving him only in his boxer briefs. The showers were located in East High’s basement, and the damp air that always seemed to blow through now left goosebumps trailing down Ricky’s neck. From the corner of his eye, he saw E.J move towards the showers, a flash of skin darting past.

Feeling heat once again rise to his cheeks, and slightly self-conscious, Ricky grabbed his towel and shucked off his underwear. Beyond the wall, he could hear the sound of the shower starting, and his E.J’s laughter was reverberating throughout.

“Get in here, man, the water’s great.”

Leaving his clothes behind, and covering his crotch with his hand, Ricky entered the showers. Steam had started to rise up from the warm water, but even with that, he could clearly see the older teen standing beneath one of the showerheads. E.J’s head was under the rush of the shower faucet, his fingers rubbing in a sweetly scented shampoo. Water ran down his back, along his butt, and legs dark with hair. Every single muscle of the older teen was on display, and a warmth that had for now only seemed to stay in his cheeks, travelled further downwards nestling in his stomach.

‘This is going to be uncomfortable’

Taking his eyes off of E.J, Rickey moved further away from the boy. Grabbing one of the valves along the wall, he turned and sighed as the hot water fell on to his body. The heat from the water seemed to release the tension that had been building up in his shoulders, and the younger teen sighed and closed his beneath the warm cascade.

“Shit”, E.J cursed, and Ricky dared to open one eye in the direction of the other boy.

“What’s wrong?”

“You know how these showers go. If you’re getting hot water, somehow that cuts off my heat.”

Ricky smiled slightly and closed his eyes again to enjoy the feel of the water against his skin, “Sorry about that dude, I won’t be long. You can just take this showerhead when I’m done.”

“No need, sharing is caring, right?”

Ricky nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of E.J’s voice being so close.  He hadn’t even heard the older teen walking over.

E.J had placed an arm around Ricky’s shoulders, and was grinning at him, “I mean we’ve technically also shared a girlfriend, so sharing a shower seems like the next step.”

“I’m sure this isn’t the type of bonding Miss Jen had in mind.”

Ricky kept his eyes closed, trying to focus on finishing his shower as quickly as possible. Yet he could feel E.J’s presence behind, could practically his breath on the back of his neck, and could hear the sound of E.J soaping up his own body. The idea of the other boys wet, and soaped up body was giving Ricky a weird feeling. The warmth in his stomach had now travelled further south, leaving an all too familiar sensation in his groin. He was beginning to get hard.

‘Oh, no, no, no’. Ricky was panicking now, and his mind was desperate to think of except the wet boy behind him. He thought of his parents having sex, or of his grandma naked. A glance downwards only showed that his dick was only rising further, jutting from his pubes at a straight angle.

He was thinking of that time that he and Big Red had found a dead cat at the skatepark, of the sight of its poor body flattened against the pavement. With some relief, he could feel himself softening and sighed as he continued to wash himself without fear of embarrassment.

The seconds seemed to stretch on, and the silence between the two boys interrupted only by the soft patter of the shower.

“Your hair is really curly y’know”

“Mhm?” Rickey asked, rubbing into his hair his own shampoo.

“I mean it’s really curly, like even when wet you can still see them” E.J was laughing now, and Ricky could only grin in response.

“I just want to run my hands through it.”

Ricky let out a low groan, as he felt the blood rush to his dick. “That’s a weird thing to say E.J.”

“Is it?” he could hear the chuckle in E.J’s voice, but also something else.

A hand touched his shoulder, and heat coursed through him. Ricky knew he couldn’t even begin to blame this on the temperature of the shower.

E.J pressed against him, and Ricky could feel the older boy’s hardness pressed against his lower back. E.J’s other hand had glided across Ricky’s abdomen and was slowly inching its way downwards.

“Wait..wait…stop”, he said, painfully aware of how loud his voice was even over the din of the shower. E.J’s hand stopped its descent midway.

“What? Don’t tell me Ricky Bowen has never had a handjob before?”

Well, that’s certainly not true, and his mind flashes to sleepovers with Big Red. On the one hand, he certainly wasn’t going to share that with E.J, and on the other hand, he really didn’t want to come off as inexperienced.

“It’s not that I don’t want to see what you guys get up to on the Water Polo team” as he says this, Ricky lowers his voice, “What if someone walks in?”

E.J was still straddling him from behind, one hand wrapped around Ricky’s stomach, the other resting on the side of his neck.

“I mean we are the only ones here…”

The hand of the other teen inched further down. Ricky didn’t need to look to know that his cock was utterly and achingly stiff.

“…but if someone comes in”, E.J was whispering now, and a shiver flew down Ricky’s spine, “they can watch.”

And just like that Ricky felt his willpower crumble completely, as E.J gripped him in his fist. It was like being struck by lightning, and he could feel the precum leaking from his tip. E.J grip was firm, and he drew his fist upwards, smearing his thumb against the tip.

Ricky writhed under E.J’s touch, and a gasp escaped him. E.J had pulled him in tighter, and the older teen had his face buried in the crook of Ricky’s neck, biting and licking at the bare skin there. He could feel E.J grinding into him before, the older boy leaving a trail of his own precum against the other’s lower back in a desperate attempt to find friction.

“How does that feel?” E.J asked, his voice husky.

Beneath E.J’s firm hand, Ricky felt as those he was in a fog; one that was impacting his every thought. Every single stroke was sending was send waves of pleasure coursing through his body, he had to even admit that E.J hand felt better than his own.

The seconds seemed to stretch on and feeling that all too familiar sensation Ricky reached out to grab E.J’s wrist. “Wait”, the desperation in his voice was clear. Reaching forward, he shut off the shower, and turned around, “Do you want me to…?”

The question hung in the air as he trailed off taking in for the first time the full sight of E.J. He had seen E.J before in states of undress, but this…this was different. E.J was athletic, and his body showed. Muscles made lean from years of swimming practice. His hair lay matted against his forehead, wet from the show, and his was face was flushed red. Ricky’s eyes trailed downwards following the light brown treasure trail that panned out into a thick growth of hair at the base of E.J’s cock. The large purplish head oozed a trail of precum that seemed to hang precariously in the air.

“Do you want me to to…yknow?” Ricky asked again, nodding downwards to E.J’s own erection.

E.J nodded, and Ricky closed in, his own hand wrapping tightly around the other’s hard dick. The skin was soft and smooth, and also feverish to the touch. A gasp escaped E.J’s lips, and his hips bucked into Ricky’s enclosed fist.

Ricky had never seen E.J like this; usually he was so composed and so cool. But now…his eyes were closed, and his mouth hung open as if caught in a silent scream. Ricky continued to stroke him, his fist moving quickly over the older teen’s length, mimicking what had done to him earlier and swiping the head with his thumb, using the precum as lubricant.  The sounds escaping from E.J were obscene and hot. His own cock throbbed in response, untouched.

“You sound like your about to bust dude.”

E.J opened his eyes and grinned back at him, “This feels fucking amazing.”

Leaning forward, he reached out for Ricky’s own neglected erection, and Ricky groaned as he felt E.J touch him once again. His hips jerked reflexively, and he leaned forward, resting his head against E.J’s shoulder. In unison their fists moved, squeezing and stroking from base to tip.

“Faster” E.J managed, and Ricky obliged. The sounds of heavy breathing and skin rubbing against skin filled the shower room.  Almost instinctively Ricky found licking and biting into the side of E.J’s neck, leaving a similar mark to the one that had been left there earlier on his own. E.J had pulled him closer, both of their fists were forgotten in favour of simply grinding against each, cocks wet with precum, each boy desperately chasing his own orgasm.

Hesitantly E.J turned to look at him, completely glassy-eyed. Ricky leaned forward, pressing his lips against E.J. Feverishly E.J kissed him back, plunging his tongue into the younger boys gasping mouth, sending a shiver down Ricky’s spine.

‘Oh, fuck.’

He was cumming, harder than he had ever done so before. He grunted and moaned, and with every spurt, he could feel his toes curling as the tension that had been steadily building within was released. E.J thrust one final time, and shuddered, releasing against Ricky’s abs.

Exhausted the two disentangled, collapsing shakily on the floor of the shower. Both boys were sweating and breathing heavily. E.J glanced at him and smiled.

“We definitely need to do that again.”

[queenmorgawse]

a story about blood

a small piece about xy and wwx’s relationship in an au in which xy met yunmeng jiang sect quite earlier in his story. written for @baebeyza for the yiling wei server exchange. 

“Get lost, you damn brat!” 

The child scrambles off the road just in time not to get crushed by the next cart, cradling his wounded hand. Whatever reply he had dies in his throat, replaced with white-hot hatred almost too violent for his body to contain. 

When he makes to stand, a purple-clad arm grabs him and pulls him upright. “Hey, you alright?” 

Xue Yang almost spits in the stranger’s face. Who is he, to offer his pity? He didn’t stop Chang Ci’An, or shove his words back down his slimy throat. Everything else is secondary.

The boy in the purple robes doesn’t seem to share his thoughts. Either he’s oblivious to the daggers Xue Yang glares at him, or he simply doesn’t care. When he drags Xue Yang along, he has no choice but to follow. The teenager is bigger and stronger than he is ⎯ though it’s not saying much, given an underfed street rat must weight about as much as a drenched kitten. 

Before he can say anything, he’s sat down at an innkeeper’s table, facing another uniformed boy with a furrow between his brows, and the one who pulled him from the street has taken his maimed hand in his, pulling various bottles of salve from his sleeves.

Xue Yang snatches it back with a hiss. The nails of his good fingers rake across the back of the boy’s hand when he reaches for him, making him recoil in return. “Ow, what the hell?”

“That’ll teach you to pick up strays, Wei Ying,” the other grumbles. Xue Yang dislikes him on sight, with his lordling airs and the haughty purse of his lips. 

His friend - Wei Ying - has already recovered, rubbing at his grazed skin. “Shut up, Jiang Cheng,” he snaps back, though not unkindly. His eyes - gray as storm clouds - drift over to Xue Yang again. “I’m just trying to help, you know? Stop the bleeding.” 

“You’re a cultivator,” is all Xue Yang says. “Like the man in the cart.”

Wei Ying’s face falls. “Oh. Oh, no, I’m not like that.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Listen, if you don’t want me to touch you, it’s fine, I’ll just hand you the bandages, okay?” 

Xue Yang eyes him warily, then nods toward the steaming bowls set on the table before him. “And I want the soup too.”

Wei Ying throws his head back and laughs. “Okay, okay! Anyone ever told you you drive a hard bargain?” He slides a set of clean linen strips across the table at Xue Yang, who pounces upon them and stuffs most of them into his pockets before setting to wrapping up his still-bleeding hand. It’s a clumsy job, but better that than let some stranger move him around like a straw doll. 

When he’s done, he unceremoniously grabs one of the bowls and all but dumps the contents down his throat. The soup burns his palate, but when the hunger that’s been hounding him around starts to wane, it’s more than worth it. 

Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng watch him eat, one with bright-eyed fondness and the other with mild indifference. 

“What do you want?” he asks when he’s done eating. It’s simple enough : in his life, no one has ever given something without asking for a favor in return. Though he fails to see what he could give some pampered young masters in exchange for his care, he has no doubt they have some ideas.

“Your name, first.”

“Xue Yang.” So he thinks, anyway. Whoever his mother was barely lived long enough for him to remember the sound of his own name in her voice. 

Here comes the real demand, then. He tenses, bracing himself for some other thankless task, maybe even money.

Instead, Wei Ying leans forward, drumming his fingers on the table. Jiang Cheng opens his mouth as if to try and stop him, then seems to think better of it and closes it, staring off to the side with a sullen look. “We saw you fight earlier. You don’t have technique, but you’re pretty fast on your feet, right? Xue Yang, have you ever been to Yunmeng?” 

-

Yunmeng is unlike anything Xue Yang has ever seen. The people there never sneer at him or kick him around, though that might be due to the new set of purple robes Wei Ying clumsily ties him into upon arrival. 

They're the nicest clothes Xue Yang has ever owned, though he gets blood on them less than a week later, viciously knocking the teeth of a too-touchy disciple with his wooden sword during training. Wei Ying has to wrestle him away by the neck of his clothes, loudly apologizing all the while. 

After, as he sullenly nurses the bruised cheek his opponent left him right after he got his hit in, Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng's shijie ( she's your shijie, too, Wei Ying told him solemnly, so you take care of her ) sits him down and serves him freshly steamed buns and a bowl of pork ribs and lotus soup.

Xue Yang doesn't dislike Jiang Yanli. She doesn't look like much, but he can tell being mean to her is not a wise choice – not only because he's been here long enough for him to notice her brothers glaring daggers at anyone foolish enough to be even mildly rude to her, but also because he might actually feel bad if she gets that disappointed look about her again. 

“You've got to get a hold of yourself, A-Yang,” she chides gently as she ladles another serving into his bowl. “One day, it'll have worse consequences than a bruised ego.”

“So what do I do?” He peers at her defiantly from behind his mop of dark hair. “Let people...do whatever they want? Like I'm small and–” Weak. Too weak to afford not being the first one to strike.

Jiang Yanli smiles a small, sad smile, and reaches to pat his head. She stops just short of touching his hair, her gaze interrogative. 

Xue Yang huffs and doesn't duck away. 

“It's alright, A-Yang.” Her voice is so soft, full of pity. Her hand is warm where it lays on top of his head. “You don't need to be strong all the time anymore. We'll be here to protect you.” 

He wants her to shut up. He wants her to never stop talking again. 

-

Jiang Yanli is a liar, Xue Yang thinks, as the Lotus Pier comes crashing down around him. Her words ring in his ears as he crawls through the smoke, close to coughing his lungs out, the only thing holding him back the looming presence of Wen troops among the ruins. 

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that she isn't here, or that Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng's fates are uncertain, or that the people he reluctantly started calling his martial brothers and sisters lay in pools of their own blood around him. The other shoe had to drop eventually. 

Not all of the cultivators involved in the massacre of the Lotus Pier die at the Yiling Patriarch's hands. Some breathe their last in the dark, as a sword called Jiangzai carves their flesh off their bones, piece by piece.

Wei Ying finds him again, a handful of months later. There is little left of Yunmeng in him, save for the silver bell he tied to Jiangzai's hilt in a fit of sentimentality. 

“You’ve been busy,” his shixiong remarks. When his eyes sweep over the scene - gore strewn across the floor, the white of Wen robes almost entirely overtaken by grime -, his eyes glow red as coals.

Xue Yang shrugs. “No more than you have, apparently.” His sleeves are meticulously clean, though his boots have been steeped in blood for longer than he cares to count. Jiang Yanli would point out the change in him, the cruel edge he always carried with him sharpened to a fine point.  

Then again, Wei Ying - Wei Wuxian, really, as few dare call him by his birth name now - is not the way he used to be either. Something about him reminds Xue Yang of a corpse risen from the grave, no longer afraid to die, inevitable.

He doesn't flinch when he looks down at the corpse Xue Yang made. It barely resembles a man anymore : lingchi has made a puddle of flesh out of him, white bones peeking out of the crimson wreck. 

“I’m surprised no one’s come after you yet. Does everyone approve of your methods?” Even as Wei Wuxian speaks, he sounds like he already knows what answer to expect.

“Am I supposed to care whether they do?” Their home didn’t burn, as far as Xue Yang’s concerned. Well, the Cloud Recesses did, but he’s never known the Lans to be the vengeful type.

Wei Wuxian breaks into a grin. It should have been familiar, as the same lopsided smile he sported whenever his kite flew higher than any of the other disciples or when he pulled one of them into the lake by their ankles, but it is frightening now.

At least, Xue Yang imagines it should be. In it, he can only find a mirror of his own. 

“Anyway,” Wei Wuxian continues with a tilt of his head towards the corpses at their feet, “I came to take care of these, but it looks like you’ve got everything handled.”

“I want to come with you.” The words slip past his lips before he can think them through. “That’s not all of them. Wen Chao’s not dead yet.” 

Hatred stays with you, he realizes. After so many years without truly feeling it, Xue Yang finds that he hasn’t forgotten its taste.

For the first time since the beginning of their talk, Wei Wuxian seems to waver. “Are you sure?” His gaze takes on a wistful tinge, like the words in his mouth aren’t his own. “Whatever happens, no one will ever look at you the same. You’ll be walking the single-plank bridge with me.” 

The implication hangs in the air between them : one stumble, and he will fall. And, of course, there will be no turning back from this.

“You think I don’t know that?” Xue Yang crosses his arms, chin raised, defiant. “I’ve already gone this far anyway. If you can do it, I can do it.” 

Something tugs at the corners of Wei Wuxian’s lips, almost like a smile. 

-

“Eat or I’ll pour it down your throat myself.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Wen Qing.” Still, Wei Wuxian reaches for the bowl. Up close, Xue Yang can see what the man himself is refusing to admit : that he’s grown thinner and gaunter with every passing day, crumbling into a shell of himself. 

Taking advantage of Wei Wuxian’s distraction, Xue Yang skirts around him and snatches up a page of his notes. It’s covered in scrambly handwriting, as if jotted down in a hurry, but he’s had enough practice by now to decipher the bare bones of it. 

“What’s a…” He squints. “...Stygian Tiger Seal?”

Weu Wuxian whirls towards him, wild-eyed. “Put it back!” 

Xue Yang raises his hands, cocking an eyebrow at the other. “Not until you tell me what it does.”

For a moment, he thinks Wei Wuxian might actually strike him. He draws himself up to his full height, resentful energy gathering around him quiet as thunder ⎯ and then the fight goes out of him, and he slumps onto the slab of stone he calls a chair again. “It’s supposed to help me,” he explains, running a hand through his soot-stained hair. “It should control the corpses better than I do on my own, like a catalyst.” 

Xue Yang considers the notes with newfound interest. “It could change everything.”

“If I manage to do it,” Wei Wuxian points out. “And if I do, you’ll have to keep it to yourself.” At the lack of change in Xue Yang’s expression, he adds, “I mean it. In the wrong hands, it’ll be carnage.”

And what do you plan to bring with it, if not carnage? 

He can see, though, that Wei Wuxian will not answer him. The Yiling Patriarch is already lost in thoughts again, half-emptied bowl abandoned on the side as he grabs a stick of charcoal and starts to sketch, muttering something about swords and giant tortoises.

For lack of something better to do, Xue Yang gathers a few more scrolls from under his nose, settles into one of of cave’s corners and starts to read.

-

For better or for worse, Wei Wuxian’s prediction comes true. When, under the cover of night, Xue Yang comes to see the remnants of Nightless City, he can find no other word to describe the scene but carnage. 

-

On the last day of autumn, a young man boldly strolls into the Unclean Realm. The cultivators who first run into him will remember him grinning even as his throat bobbed against a saber’s blade, upper lip pulling up over little sharp teeth, until the Sect Leader steps in to break off the fight and announce - to everybody's surprise - he will receive his honored guest in his own desk.

“That artefact you mentioned...” Nie Huaisang starts, snapping his fan shut once the door closes behind them. For a moment, two beasts seize each other up, black against gold. “Do you have it?” 

“I thought your being daft was only a facade, Headshaker,” the other snaps back. Still, he reaches into his sleeve. Nie Huaisang’s gaze follows his hand as it draws out a slab of stone shaped like a tiger’s head, crude in design yet unmistakable. 

Half of the Stygian Tiger Seal dangles from the young man’s hand. Nie Huaisang has had the occasion to see the original once - granted, from a distance, and not for very long -, but he can tell that though this is a an attempt to recreate Wei Wuxian’s invention, it’s a skilled one. “It’s rather pretty, but does it work?”

His interlocutor shrugs. “You don’t have the other half, do you? I thought you’d have it ready, since you were only in the market for half of it.”

“I will procure it,” he says, perhaps a little more forcefully than he meant to. “In the meantime…”

Nie Huaisang considers the missing half, his eyes heavy-lidded. When he looks up, his gaze has taken on a sharper glint. “It seems we’ve got ourselves a deal, young master Xue.”

[noona-clock]

One of Those Days

Genre: AU/Fluff

Pairing: Yunhyeong x You

Warnings: None

Words: 2,282

It had just been one of those days.

Well, actually, it had all started last night.

When you’d gone to bed last night, you had connected your phone to the charging cable as you always did. You had set your phone on your nightstand as you always did. You turned the lamp off as you always did. And then you turned over to kiss your fiancé goodnight before snuggling against his chest to go to sleep.

So, on the surface, everything was the same as any other night.

The only difference was that the charging cord had been wiggled free from the plug, and your phone hadn’t charged all night.

You hadn’t noticed until you got to work, though, which would have been fine... if you hadn’t taken your charging cord home for Yunhyeong, your fiancé, to borrow just two days ago.

So, now you were stuck with a phone at 5% battery and no charging cable.

And to make things even worse, your boss asked you to meet with some of your co-workers at a different location, so you wouldn’t be able to access your email. Basically, you would be cut off from digitally communicating with anyone until you got home that evening.

As you rode on the subway to your assigned site for the day, you suddenly realized you hadn’t yet told Yunhyeong your phone was practically dead, so he wasn’t going to hear from you until later. The guy was a total worrywart, so you knew he would notice when you didn’t answer any of his texts throughout the day.

You slid your phone out of your pocket and navigated to your messages, quickly typing one to Yunhyeong to let him know that your phone was almost out of battery, and you would be away from your desk all day so there was no need to worry about you not replying to his messages.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips when you pressed send. You were now on 2% battery, so you had made it just in time.

But instead of the message showing up as delivered, a red exclamation mark appeared next to it.

Not Delivered, it read.

Not delivered.

Your eyes flitted up to the corner of your screen, and your heart sank. You should’ve known.

You were on the subway! Underground!

No service.

You kept trying, hoping maybe you would hit a pocket or something. But nothing. Every time you tried to re-send it, that red exclamation mark would pop up again.

Not Delivered.

The second the train saw the light of day, you rapidly pressed the Send button again... But it was too late.

Your screen went blank before your thumb had a chance to connect with it.

Oh, great.

Okay, hold on. Not all hope was lost just yet. You could use one of the office phones to call Yunhyeong and let him know --

Wait, never mind. You didn’t have his phone number memorized.

You let out a sigh as the subway train slowed to a stop; you knew Yunhyeong would worry, but... what could you do? You would just have to try not to think about it, though spending the day at another site would probably help with that. You had a lot to get done today, according to your boss, so... maybe your phone dying was really a blessing in disguise.

Maybe your phone dying was a blessing in disguise for you, but for Yunhyeong?

It was the opposite.

He first tried to text you around 9:30 that morning, which was pretty typical. He liked to send you little messages throughout the day letting you know he was thinking about you and he loved you. Sometimes you simply sent back some heart emojis (if you were pretty busy) and sometimes it spurred on a whole conversation about whatever was on your mind.

Today, he sent you a message saying Hope you have a good day, my love 💘 I can’t wait to see you when you get home!

Yunhyeong let out a soft, happy sigh after he pressed ‘Send,’ leaning back against the couch in your shared apartment. Since he was a cooking instructor/YouTuber (with his own cooking channel, of course), he got to spend quite a bit of time at home. He only taught a few classes a week, and he only filmed for his channel when he was making something delicious for you.

Usually, you replied back pretty quickly. Most of the time, you were just sitting at your desk, so your phone was right on hand. Every once in a while, you wouldn’t respond for about an hour, but you would always apologize profusely and tell him your boss had you running errands or something of the sort.

After about ten minutes, Yunhyeong figured today was one of those days. You hadn’t responded back or even read his message, so obviously, your boss was sending you all over the office to get things done.

So, he set his phone down on the coffee table and decided to get some cleaning done. By the time he was finished vacuuming the entire place, you would’ve responded.

Yunhyeong pushed himself off the couch and headed over toward the hall closet to retrieve the vacuum -- his precious, lovely vacuum. You’d given it to him for Christmas the first year after you’d moved in together, and that’s when Yunhyeong had officially, truly, absolutely, without a doubt known you were The One.

After he made his way through every room in the apartment, Yunhyeong turned the vacuum off and put it back in its home. He whistled quietly as he strolled back toward the living area, and when he reached the coffee table, he bent to pick up his phone.

When he turned it over... his brow furrowed. There was no reply from you. And when he navigated to his conversation with you, you still hadn’t even read it.

It was a bit odd, but he would try not to worry just yet...

Instead of worrying when there was probably no need, he decided to give the kitchen a good scrub down. He used it so much, he cleaned the place at least once a week, and now was as good a time as any for a proper, deep clean.

If anything, it would help keep his mind off of the fact you hadn’t yet read his message.

Once again, he set his phone down on the coffee table before turning and heading to the kitchen.

Over the next two hours, Yunhyeong cleaned just about every single inch of the entire kitchen. He mopped the floor, wiped down the counters, scrubbed the tile, de-greased the oven, dusted the cabinets, shined the cabinet handles, and he even cleaned out the fridge, freezer, and pantry.

It was bruising but satisfying work. And it had also successfully kept his mind off your absence...

Until now.

Yunhyeong brought one arm up and wiped his brow with his sleeve before shuffling back out to the living area. He could just picture picking his phone up and seeing at least five messages from you. His eyes would light up and a warm smile would tug at his lips when he read them.

He actually held his breath when he got to the coffee table, and he reached out for his phone. He almost hesitated to pick it up, but he knew you would’ve replied by now, so he went ahead and did it. He picked it up, brought it up to his face, and --

Still no message from you.

And, opening up the conversation, you still hadn’t even read his text.

Okay. It had been over three hours now. Something was wrong.

He knew it was totally fine for somebody to not respond to your texts right away, but... with you, it was a cause for concern. You always answered him within an hour, especially when you were at work. You always read his texts, and you always replied, even if you were mad at him for some reason. That’s just what your relationship was like. You genuinely liked talking to each other, in person or through text message, and if you just didn’t feel like reading or responding to his message... Well, it would be a first.

Yunhyeong couldn’t help but worry now.

He inhaled sharply before tapping on the screen and typing another message to you.

Everything okay, baby? Busy day at work?

He decided not to let you know he was already getting worried because it wouldn’t make you read his message any faster, would it?

With a sputtering sigh, Yunhyeong put his phone back down and...

Well, what else could he do? He decided to deep clean your bedroom.

He washed and changed the bedding, decluttered his closet, tidied up your vanity, wiped away the dust bunnies under the bed, cleaned the windows, straightened the pictures, and even dusted the blades on the ceiling fan.

Still no response from you.

Where are you? Did I do something to upset you? Please, just let me know you’re all right.

He scrubbed the bathtub, took a toothbrush to the grout, rearranged all of his skin and hair products under the sink, cleaned the mirror, washed the towels.

Still nothing.

He called you this time, his heart pausing when it went straight to voicemail.

“Hey, I’m getting really worried. I just need to know that nothing’s wrong. Please answer me back as soon as you can.”

Yunhyeong dusted the air vents, used a dryer sheet to clean the baseboards, steamed the couch cushions. He baked chocolate cupcakes, cooked up a pot of chili, brewed some coffee.

He did everything he could think of to take his mind off this. 

But then he realized... the whole apartment was clean. Dinner (and dessert) were ready for tonight. There was nothing more he could do... except wait.

It was now a little past the time you usually got home, which made Yunhyeong worry even more. What if you’d gotten into an accident on your way into work? Surely, he would’ve gotten a call from the police or the hospital, though, right?

What was going on, then?! Why hadn’t you read his messages or called him back all day?!

To be honest, by the time you arrived at your apartment door that evening (later than usual since you weren’t coming from your normal office building), you had kind of completely forgotten about the death of your phone?

But then you got out your key and remembered.

Yunhyeong was going to be a mess.

You quickly unlocked the door, swinging it open as your brow furrowed deeply in preparation for your lengthy and emphatic apology.

Unsurprisingly, Yunhyeong was pacing around the living area, clutching his phone in his hands. He paused when you entered, and the expression on his face immediately morphed into one of total and utter relief.

“Oh, my god,” he breathed as you hurried over to him.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, walking into his embrace and burying your face in his neck. “My phone died this morning, it didn’t charge last night, and my boss sent me to another location so I couldn’t email, and I don’t know your phone number so I couldn’t call, and I was so busy.”

Yunhyeong simply clutched you tightly to his chest, his hands gripping the fabric of your shirt.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, hoping his silence wasn’t the beginning of a Silent Treatment.

“It’s okay,” he replied softly before moving to press his lips to your temple. “It’s not your fault. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

It was a relief to hear his voice, to hear he wasn’t angry. But, still, you knew you’d caused him a lot of grief today.

You pulled away slightly, reaching up and taking his face in your hands. You pressed your lips to his, and you almost immediately felt the desperation in his kiss.

“I’m okay,” you assured him, whispering against his lips. “I’m sorry, and I’m okay.”

Yunhyeong leaned his forehead against yours and let out a very deep sigh, his breath fanning over your lips and chin. “I wasn’t,” he replied. “But I am now.”

“I know, I’m so sorry. I knew you would be worried, and I tried to text you on the subway, but I didn’t have service and then my phone died before I got a chance. When I plug it in, I’ll show you -- the message I was trying to send is probably still there in the text box,” you told him, blindly reaching into your bag to retrieve your phone.

Your  fiancé quickly put his hand on your wrist to stop you.

“Don’t worry about it now,” he whispered. “You don’t need to prove anything. I’m just -- I’m glad you’re all right. That’s what matters most.”

You stood on your toes and kissed him once more, your brow furrowed deeply. You tried to convey just how much you loved him in your kiss, and Yunhyeong responded by holding you tightly, his thumb gently caressing the small of your back.

...But then you realized you smelled chili.

“Did you make dinner already?”

A slight flush colored Yunhyeong’s cheeks, and he smiled bashfully. “Yeah. You know I cook when I’m stressed.”

“And when you’re happy or sad or scared or angry or --”

“I made chocolate cupcakes, too!” he interrupted.

You gasped softly, your eyes widening as you grasped Yunhyeong’s arms. “Really?!”

“Really. You hungry?”

You didn’t even answer him. You simply grabbed his hand and dashed to the kitchen to fill up a bowl with his delicious chili.

...And get a cupcake for an appetizer.

[maid-of-mourne-shore]

A Helping Hand - Bucky x Reader

My entry for @cordytriestowrite writing challenge! I had some fun with this one, though i’m not sure how I feel about the ending. Not beta read.

Prompt: “To be fair, I don’t know how to operate a dishwasher”

Warnings: none!

In the dead of winter, one had to sleep in for quite a while until the sun would peek through the twelfth story window, washing the room in a warm glow until you could almost feel the warmth the rays were giving off. That’s all she wanted to do, stay snuggled under the covers, wrap her arms tighter around her companion, and bask in his comfort before the sun decided that it was really time to get up, but her alarm clock had other plans. Sure, she could turn it off, roll over, go back to sleep, pretend it was a dream, but that was no way to stay employed. The low grumbles coming from her boyfriend only broke her resolve further, his hands tense on her skin, refusing to let go even in his sleepy state. (Y/N) sighed, leaning back into him, earning a happy little noise that reverberated through his chest, his lips finding her neck as a reward. It was killing her, his touch leaving trails of electricity everywhere they traveled along her bare skin, feeling the heat of his body, hearing his slow, deep breaths in her ear, she really wanted to stay.  

With a quick motion, (Y/N) broke his grasp, scrambling out of bed, hissing when her feet touched the chilly, hardwood floor. She shoved her slippers on and began shuffling around the room to fetch her bathrobe, a towel and some clothing for the day.  

“(Y/N)!” Bucky groaned, rolling around in bed until his slate blue eyes were on her, mustering his best ‘Sad puppy dog’ look.  

“Nope,” (Y/N) quickly turned away, heading towards the bathroom, knowing that if she heard him out, he would wear her down easily.  

“But, baby!” She could hear him moving around, signaling that he was getting out of bed which spurred her on, feet slapping hard against the floor.  

“I just got back last night,” Bucky whined, joining her in the bathroom. Although he was completely naked which showcased layers of hardened muscle and flesh, his frame towering over her along with a few bumps and bruises from the previous mission he had been on, the look on his face was pure crybaby. A pout on his pink lips, eyebrows upturned, wrinkling his forehead, those baby blues all watery as if he was going to cry.  

“Bucky, I have to work,” (Y/N) pleaded, taking his hands in hers as he hung his head.

“But what am I gonna do?” He asked, looking up and trying again with those pleading eyes.  

“Whatever you want, Buck!” (Y/N) exasperated, pushing on his chest as he crossed the threshold of the doorway. “You’re going to make me late!”

(Y/N) hated being the bad guy, but when Bucky was like this, she had to put her foot down. She almost turned the shower on, but had to stop in her tracks when she heard whimpering, whimpering from behind the door! (Y/N) loved him to pieces, and would love him as long as he would have her, but this was getting ridiculous, he had only been away for a few weeks, they had gone far longer without seeing each other. No more distractions, she had to get ready. With a sigh, the room filled with steam as she stepped into the shower to start scrubbing.  

When she finally stepped out, hair pulled back, makeup dusting her features, and fresh business casual clothes on, Bucky seemed to have gotten over his little tantrum and was sitting patiently on the couch, watching something on TV. His head whipped around to look over, a smile grazing his lips as he crossed the floor to stand in front of her, pulling the woman into his arms.  

“You look so pretty,” Bucky cooed.  

“No tricks, I have to go,” (Y/N) pleaded.  

“’M not tryin’ anything, just wanted a hug before you left.”

Bucky pulled back just enough to give her a quick kiss on the lips, then released her so she could head towards the door, picking up her purse and jacket along the way. He came after her, quietly watching her, keeping his protests at bay.  

“You’re not going to eat?” Bucky asked.  

“I’ll get something on the way.” (Y/N) looked back to Bucky and she wanted to made a snide comment about how somebody had kept her behind schedule, but the earnest look on his face, the way he watched her with so much adoration, the slight worry in his eyes as if it would be the worst thing in the world for her to forget breakfast just this once, it silenced her.  

“I promise.” (Y/N) pulled him back down for another kiss and then she was gone.  

Bucky let out a lonesome sigh, trudging back through her apartment as he began to make a mental list of what he could do to fill his time. He always came to stay with her as much as he could when he wasn’t on official Avenger business, though he wasn’t technically moved in, there was an array of his clothing in her closet for his extended visits. Bucky understood that their worlds were very different, that her life was more structured and consistent, while he could be called away at the drop of a hat, or could have no business to attend to for weeks. Often times, he attempted to give her money to help her pay for things, as he was always staying with her. Bucky would insist that it was nothing, he didn’t have to pay to live with Stark, and besides his own personal expenses, he had no real costs of living, but she would always refuse. Bucky even resorted to leaving bills in her wallet, but she had caught onto that too. He just felt so damn guilty, showing up, and staying here while she worked hard, he wanted to pull his weight.  

That’s when it came to him. Bucky caught sight of her full laundry basket as he waltzed back into her room, considering a nap to pass the time until she returned. If he couldn’t help financially, he would help around the house! At this point, he felt like a househusband staying home all day, just without all the work. It was perfect, foolproof, and there was no way she could say no as when she arrived home it would all be done.  

Bucky got to work, running around to search for her cleaning supplies. He found the broom and mop, figuring he would start in the living room and work his way back. Humming happily to himself, Bucky began to work up a sweat, when he noticed his appearance in her hallway mirror. If someone had told him back in the thirties that James Buchanan Barnes would be soaking up domestic bliss by cleaning his lady’s home while she went out to work, he would’ve laughed. Oh, how times had changed, how he had changed.  

It was lunchtime when he took a break, looking at his phone that he left charging in the kitchen.  

(Y/N): Sorry about this morning : (

Bucky: It’s okay. I know I can be a handful.

(Y/N): I like when you’re a handful! I just needed to go.  

Bucky: All is forgiven, my love.  

(Y/N): How about I bring takeout home tonight? Your choice.  

Bucky: Just bring me home you.  

(Y/N): Pizza it is then!

Bucky put together a quick ham and Swiss sandwich for lunch, then got back to work. It was time to tackle the laundry, though he found that this was the first time he would be doing laundry in her home. He searched high and low, every room, nook, and cranny, yet somehow there wasn’t a damn washer in sight. Not even a bin and washboard like his ma used to use back in the day. Bucky looked over at his phone and thought about asking her, but he hated the idea of ruining the surprise. Even worse, she would catch onto what he was doing refuse to tell him where it was. No, he could do this, he was a goddamn assassin, he could find a washer!

Stalking back into the kitchen, he took a drink of water, resting his hands on the counter top. He let his head drop, huffing out a sigh, when he realized what was below him. A washer in the kitchen? How odd, but it certainly looked like a washer, not that he was an expert by any means. Bucky stood up straight again and tried to open it, his hand finding the released under the top ridge, and when he peered inside it had a strange, wire rack that rolled out when he touched it. These things just kept getting more complicated, making him miss the good ol’ days.

Oh well, if it would help her out, then Bucky would learn how to use her washer. He dragged the laundry bin into the kitchen and began to load up the wire rack, slowly rolling it back inside when it was full, and opened nearly every cupboard in the room when he finally found some detergent under the sink. There were a few different bottles, but he decided on the pink one as it smelled like flowers, but there was no measuring cup, so he eyeballed it and poured some in. Once he closed the door to the washer came the hard part, attempting to start it up. After reading through all the options a few times, he liked the idea of ‘Heavy Wash’, he wanted to make sure her clothes were really clean, no point in doing a job unless you do it right. When the machine whirred to life, Bucky stood back and smiled, proud of himself.  

Bucky rewarded all of his handwork with a hot shower, relishing the heat that soothed his aching muscles from the mission he had just come home from. After dressing in a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt, he flopped onto the couch to browse through the TV channels, though nothing really piqued his interest. Bucky wanted (Y/N). He knew it was selfish, childish even to need her so much, but after being denied anything that resembled, warmth, love and affection for over seventy years, he threw caution to the wind. After slowly getting to know (Y/N), building their relationship, learning to trust her, he began to find himself wanting to be surrounded by her tenderness and devotion, preferring to spend days encircled by her arms, dreading the call to action with the Avengers.  

Bucky’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he heard the telltale sound of the lock being twisted, the door swinging open, and the heavy sound of boots scuffing on the mat signaling (Y/N)’s return. He hopped up, feet clad in fuzzy socks as he skated the hardwood floor, rounding the corner to find her struggling with grocery bags and a pizza, still hot as he smelt the grease and pepperoni.  

“Here baby, let me,” Bucky cooed, relieving her of the items with ease as she sighed in relief, shrugging her jacket off.  

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

Bucky preened at the smile she gave him, her cheeks still red from the chilled air outside, making her look absolutely kissable, but he decided to let her get settled first, he would make plenty of time for that later. He dropped the groceries off in the kitchen, peeking in to see what she had gotten them, gasping when his gaze found the lime green bag of his favorite candy.  

“You got me sour gummy worms?” Bucky’s head popped out of the kitchen doorway, catching her arm in his hand as she walked to her bedroom.  

“Of course,” (Y/N) chuckled as she was pulled into a tight hug.  

“You’re so good to me,” Bucky sighed, releasing her as he brought a hand to her cheek.  

“You’re very easy to please,” she quirked an eyebrow at him. “Now let me get changed.”

“Alright,” Bucky huffed, reluctantly letting her go.  

He went back to the kitchen, putting away the items she had purchased for them, taking out plates and cups, setting up the TV trays in front of the couch, getting everything just perfect so she would have no reason to leave his side for the rest of the night. (Y/N) sauntered back to the living room in her favorite coordinates, pajama pants and an over sized t-shirt, one that Bucky had left here on purpose one night after he saw how much she coveted them, stealing his whenever she could get her greedy mitts on them. Bucky followed her into the kitchen where they began to dish out the goods; Pizza, chocolate milk, sour gummy worms for Bucky, and fuzzy peaches for (Y/N). A ritual, a sacred meal, their thing.  

“Were you cleaning today, Buck?” (Y/N) chirped, eyeing the green glowing light on the dishwasher.  

“I was,” he beamed, recalling his busy day. “I wanted you to come home and be able to relax, not have to worry.”

“That’s so sweet of you,” She gave him a peck on the cheek. “God, I let those dishes pile up.”

“Dishes?” Bucky quirked his head.

“Yeah, there was mountain up to here,” she chuckled, motioning with her hand over the sink.  

“Oh, I washed those by hand.”

“Then what’s in my dishwasher?”  

Silence came over them as (Y/N) eyed a very baffled Bucky. She would think it was a very cute look on him if she wasn’t running through all the possibilities of what her clueless boyfriend had filled the washer with. Bucky gulped, a sense of impending doom causing his muscles to tense and a cold sweat to break out on his skin. He had just wanted to help, but now he had gone and made things worse, assuming that dishwashers were not very good for clothing. How could he have been so stupid? Of course, it was a dishwasher, it wasn’t his first time seeing one for Christ’s sake, but for some unknown reason, he had truly let himself believe it was just a few hours prior.  

(Y/N)’s hand hovered over the machines door, tentative fingers latching onto the handle as the click signaled the locking mechanisms release, steam ascending as the door opened up. With one last look at Bucky’s guilty face, she looked inside, a small gasp as she recognized the contents.  

“Oh Bucky.”

“I’m sorry!” He yelped. “I’m so sorry! I was trying to help, but I couldn’t find your washer. I thought that this was your washer, but I’m an idiot, and fuck, I'm sorry!”

She watched him for a split-second, disbelief running over her features before (Y/N)’s face splits with a wide grin, laughter echoing throughout the room.  

“My silly, ancient, Bucky,” (Y/N) chuckled, shaking her head, Bucky’s expression showcasing his clear uncertainty to her reaction.  

“Come,” she motioned with her hand and turned to walk down the hallway, Bucky quick on her heels, teeth roughly gnawing on his bottom lip. She stopped in front of a folding door, opening it to reveal a washer and dryer, stacked on top of each other in the tiny space. (Y/N) turned, holding out her arms, giving him an incredulous smirk.  

“You’re trying to tell me that my boyfriend, assassin extraordinaire, Avenger, the Winter Fucking Soldier, couldn’t find a washer in my small apartment?”

“Uh, well, I'm kinda off the clock darlin’,” Bucky blushed, gaze averting to the floor. He really was an idiot, and now she knew it too.  

“You still amaze me every day, Bucky Barnes,” (Y/N) sighed, leaning in to cup his cheek. “Would you even know how to use this thing?”

“Um, well we have them at the compound, but someone usually does it for us,” he muttered the last bit, feeling his cheeks flame up once again, embarrassed at the fact that he could barely do his own laundry. Being an Avenger didn’t exactly allow a lot of time for chores, though it didn’t make him feel any less ridiculous about his lack of skills.  

“Alright, the washer and dryer are off limits until you learn how to properly do laundry,” (Y/N) stated, closing the door and starting back down the hallway to the kitchen.

“To be fair, I don’t know to operate a dishwasher, either,” Bucky added.

“Oh sweetheart, I think we’ve already figured that out,” her tone was venomous but when he looked into her eyes, he saw the playful glint.  

Bucky got those famous baby blues on full display, hoping to get back in her good graces, his vibranium hand running up and down his flesh arm. His gaze trailed back to the food left on the counter, their special dinner long forgotten about, and he sighed once again.  

“So, you’re not mad?”

“Of course not, you were just trying to help.”

Bucky knew she wasn’t, he knew it all along, but he needed her to say it, to tell him that it was okay, and she knew it too. So, (Y/N) gathered up the food and marched out to the living room, nearly dragging Bucky with her, putting their smorgasbord on the TV trays and flicking on the television. She dived in, shoving food in her face, nearly moaning as she took the first bites, her eyes rolling back into her head. Bucky watched her, amazed that she let him see this side of her, that she found joy in such small, mundane things such as lukewarm pizza, chocolate milk, and sweets; By her reaction, it might as well have been a five-star meal. Bucky hadn’t even realized that he was staring until she stopped and stared back.  

“What?”

“You’re not worried about your clothes?” He asked, almost afraid of the answer.  

“They’re just clothes, Buck.”

“I know, but what if I ruined them?”

“Then I'll but new ones,” (Y/N) retorted, turning to face him fully.  

“No, I'll buy new ones,” Bucky stated.  

“Fine, you’ll buy new ones,” she sighed. “Now eat.”

Bucky didn’t have to be told twice, and within minutes, he had devoured the entire spread. With all of the excitement from earlier settled, his growing need for touch re-emerged, Bucky’s flesh hand sliding onto her thigh, thumb circling the soft fabric. All he wanted was to wrap her up, feel her against him for as long as she would let him, but Bucky was trying to be good, he had caused enough headaches for (Y/N) today. She was happily munching away, blissfully unaware of how desperate he was becoming, slate blue eyes darting between the TV and her face, counting down the seconds until she would finish her slice. Bucky’s moment finally came as (Y/N) wiped her fingers off with a napkin, and before she could place it back down on her TV tray, she was bulldozed by the man, pushed into the couch cushions at breakneck speed, his hands heavy on her waist, head buried into her neck as she let out a yelp.  

“Bucky!”

“Mmm.”

“You’re such a baby,” (Y/N) sighed, her arms circling his torso, encouraging Bucky to snuggled even closer.  

“Mhm.” She could call him whatever names she wanted, as long as he was allowed to stay like this. He placed small kisses along her exposed skin, sighing when she let her fingers run through his hair, the dishwasher forgotten about, a task for another day.

[raptorginger]

Samhain: Chapter 3 - Ostara

for @reysexualkylo

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2

It had been several weeks since The Incident, as Rey thought of it.  

She had woken up back on the couch, wrapped in her favorite blanket, totally alone save for Dusty.  The cat had taken up position on the back of the couch and was staring unblinking at a spot on the floor behind her.  Rey had sat up and rubbed her face.

“What a fucked up dream,” she groaned to herself.  Dusty hardly moved a hair, which was strange.  A low rumble was coming from him, and Rey stilled.  

“It was a dream...right?” she asked Dusty.

The cat continued to growl.

Rey got up and walked around her couch to the spot Dusty was staring at.  Where the monster had been standing in her dream  There was a faint scorch mark and a bit of ash on the wood floor.  Rey paled.  No, it couldn’t be.  Maybe it had come from an ember from the fire she’d had a while back. ��That she forgot to clean up and didn’t notice until now.  Riiight.

And then there’d been that guy.  His voice had been so familiar.  He knew her name.  Tried to throw himself in front of her.  That one still floored Rey.  Her own parents hadn’t loved her enough to stick around, but some guy had thrown himself in front of some clawed monster for her.  Well, it HAD been a dream.  Rey quickly scanned her living room and listened for sounds that shouldn’t be.  Nothing.  She was alone.  Last time a voice had told her she wasn’t alone.  Had that been his voice?  The man in black?

“If that was you, you’re more approachable in sweats,” Rey muttered to herself.  More attractive too.  He’d been tall and broad, with pale skin and a mop of unkempt black hair.  Rey gave herself a shake and went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea like she always did when she was out of sorts.

She spent the next several days constantly looking over her shoulder.  She was distracted at work, every clang in the shop making her jump.  She dropped her wrenches more times than she could count.  Her boss, Poe Dameron, went so far as to pull her into his office to ask if she was alright.

With a concerned tilt of his swarthy head, he asked, “Did something happen, Rey?  You’re pretty jumpy these days.”

Rey put on her brightest smile and replied, “Oh no, Boss!  Just a bit distracted is all.”

Poe leaned back in his chair and regarded her with a skeptical expression.  Rey fidgeted under his scrutiny and winced when she felt a strange pressure behind her eyes.  She rubbed them and tried to push the feeling out.  Poe flinched and sat back up.  

“Right,” he muttered, like he knew she wasn’t telling the truth.  “Well, try to stay focused, Rey.  I can have Finn help you out if you want.  We don’t need a Land Rover falling on you,” he said in a more jovial tone.

Rey laughed at the weak joke, and she liked Finn well enough, but she didn’t need the help, bristling slightly at the suggestion.  “No need, Boss.  I’m fine.”

The idea that Poe thought the quality of her work was slipping jolted Rey back to the present, and she resolved to put this whole dream business behind her.  She was a damn good mechanic, and the thought of disappointing a customer was practically offensive to her.  She noticed Finn hovering a bit more than was called for in the ensuing days, but she tried not to take it personally.  She knew Poe was just trying to watch the shop’s back.  They worked on a lot of high end vehicles, and high end vehicles came with high maintenance clients.  They didn’t need a lawsuit or a bad review.

Things went back to normal shortly after that.  The first hints of spring began to creep through the snow and chill of winter, which made a lot of people happy.  Except Rey.  Slush and mud is what it meant to her.  Although, the sun did shine warmer, which she enjoyed.  Too bad the snow it shined on looked filthy and disgusting.

Rey gently lowered the hood of the Porsche she was tuning up, wiping her greasy hands on the rag she kept in her belt.  She jotted a couple more things on the receipt before she handed it to Poe to give the customer.  

“Tell Mr. Biggs that just because his car can go from 0-160 in 2.5 seconds doesn’t mean it should,” Rey muttered.

“Will do,” Poe chuckled.  “How’s it going these days Rey?  Any more strange dreams?”

“No, not since…” Rey looked up suddenly.  She hadn’t told Poe about the weird dream.  Had she?  She was sure she hadn’t told anyone.  Poe and Finn were probably her closest friends, and she was sure she hadn’t mentioned it to either of them.  It was too weird.  Besides, Poe would have gotten all psychoanalytical saying how it meant she needed to get laid, and Finn would have said it meant she needed to “confront her past” or some shit.  

Poe was looking at her with a curious expression on his face.  Like he knew something she didn’t.  She’d seen that look before.  On Luke’s face last time she’d seen him.  Rey cocked her head to the side and wiped her hands with her rag some more.  “Do you know a Luke Skywalker?” she asked.

Poe made a “beats me” expression and shrugged.  “Name sounds kinda familiar.  Customer maybe.  Why?”

Rey shrugged back.  He was lying.  She knew it.  “No reason,” she replied as she went to the locker room to scrub out and change.  Unzipping her blue-grey jumpsuit and kicking off her work boots, she tugged on her jeans and laced up her Converse.  Her arms were covered in motor oil and grease, so she grabbed her tin of strong soap and went to the bathroom.  She scrubbed and scrubbed until her hands and arms were raw and red, but clean.  She washed her face next before heading back to her locker to put on her t-shirt.  She rubbed a bit of Eucerin mixed with Lollia hand cream over her arms and hands before she slipped on her black Patagonia sweater and headed home.  She was grateful for the thick rubber soles of her shoes as she headed through the slush and muck of the municipal parking lot to her car.

She frowned at some guy who was leering at her a few feet from her car in the lot.  He was smoking a cigarette, his motions turning blatantly suggestive and his eyes looking her up and down.  Rey imagined how funny it would be if his lighter caught fire in his pocket right next to his crotch.  The man suddenly yelped as his pocket starting burning, smoke curling from his hip.  Rey figured an ember from the cigarette must have burned through the plastic to the butane.

“Serves you right, prick,” she grumbled as she turned the key in the ignition and sped off, watching the man hop and flap his arms in her rearview mirror.

***

Pulling into her garage, Rey didn’t see anything amiss, but she felt a prickling sensation at the back of her neck.  Getting out of her car, she closed the door as quietly as she could and grabbed a crowbar off of the nearby shelf.  Holding it in front of her, she quietly open the door and tiptoed into the mudroom, shutting it softly behind her.  She heard nothing, not even Dusty.  She relaxed a little.  If Dusty wasn’t hissing or growling, things should be alright.  Unless…  Rey paled at the thought.  Holding the crowbar in both hands, she crept into her kitchen.  Nothing out of place.  No weird smells.

“Dusty!” she hissed.  “Dusty!”

Rey breathed a sigh of relief when she heard a delicate meow followed by a soft thump.  She set her crowbar down on the counter and pulled off her shoes, tossing them near the washer behind her as Dusty sauntered into view, tail held proudly.  Dusty stretched luxuriously before jumping up onto the kitchen island and nuzzling Rey’s arm.  She gave the cat a gentle scratch behind the ears, making him purr.  She poured some food into his bowl and sprinkled a few treats on top, earning her several excited yowls.  She watched Dusty gobble up his food for a minute before she headed towards her bedroom.  She stripped her clothes off unceremoniously, leaving them in a pile near her hamper, before she walked the few remaining paces to her adjoining bathroom. Turning the knob all the way towards the ‘H,’ Rey finished undressing, hanging her bra on the door handle and tossing her underwear back into the bedroom.  She watched the water rush out of the faucet for a moment, enjoying the swirling of the steam around the stream of water before she tugged the shower pull.  She wished she had some essential oils or something handy.  Rey closed her eyes and imagined the scents of lavender and sandalwood wafting around her, soothing her frazzled nerves.  When she opened them, she swore the scents were there, teasing her nose.  She got in the shower without a second thought, attributing it to her overactive imagination.  As she rinsed out her conditioner, Rey thought she saw the shadow of a man out of the corner of her eye.  Peeking out of the shower curtain, she only saw her blinking owlish eyes staring back at her in the foggy mirror.  She shook her head and finished her shower, determined to put these strange feelings aside for the rest of the evening.

After heating a bit of her leftover Pad Thai, Rey planted herself on her couch and switched on Ol’ Reliable, aka Netflix.  She navigated to her favorite John Mulaney special and focused on eating her leftovers without making a mess.  It didn’t take long for Dusty to curl up next to her hip, trying to force her off the small couch so he could lounge.  Eventually, Rey did end up on the floor somehow, her empty bowl on the coffee table.  The special over, she flipped to another standby of hers, Daredevil.  She was hardly five minutes into the first episode before she was on her side and her head was nestled against a pillow she’d thrown on the floor.  Her eyes drifted closed, and she was out.

***

When Rey opened her eyes, she was standing outside a rusted iron gate.  Dead leaves and snow swirled in the yard before her, a flagstone path leading up to a dark and foreboding old home.  Compelled by some force she couldn’t comprehend, Rey pushed the latch down on the gate, the door swinging open with a groan of protest, and stepped into the yard.  Walking slowly up the path, she sensed no danger in front of her, only a feeling of…  What was that feeling?  Rey turned the warm feeling over and over in her mind, as if it was some kind of stone or object she could examine.  It was foreign, strange, but intoxicating.  It felt like...she belonged here.  That’s what was in front of her, belonging.  Rey wrapped her arms around her slim body, trying to hold the feeling close.

Walking up the creaking porch steps, Rey paused at the massive front door.  It was maybe one and a half times the size of a normal door.  Dark stained wood, long ago scarred by weather or...something.  Heavy.  A massive pane of stained glass depicting a five pointed star within a circle took up almost half of the door.  Rey pushed the handle down, and the door swung open easily for her.  A dark foyer stood before her, and Rey stepped inside cautiously.  A dim sconce was on her right.  Peeking past the open archway, Rey saw a tidy, if old, living room, the fireplace dark.  Rey could barely make out bookshelves lining the walls.  Just past the archway was a set of stairs, a dark hallway beside them leading towards the back of the house.  Rey saw a large leather book on the coffee table, but didn’t enter the room to investigate.  The belonging feeling wasn’t in here.

Rey walked up the stairs timidly, trying not to make a sound.  On the landing, Rey peeked in the door on her right.  Study.  There was a hallway on her left.  Walking to the end of the hallway, Rey pushed open the half closed door that blocked her way.  Rey gasped softly.  A fire was dying in the small hearth.  An armchair sat beside the fireplace, a lamp beside it.  In the middle of the room stood a massive four poster bed, occupied by a huge black dog and a very familiar looking sleeping man.  The dog was watching her, a curious expression on its face.  Rey walked into the room cautiously, the old wooden floor silent beneath her feet.  Reaching the edge of the bed, she held her fingers out to the dog, who gave them a friendly snuffle.  The dog rested his head on his massive paws after giving Rey a sniff, and Rey figured that meant it was okay to approach the sleeping man.

Rey looked down at the sleeping man.  He was lying on his side, his pale face pinched and pained.  He was having a dream, and not a very pleasant one, if Rey had to guess.  His hair was a dark mess against the white of the pillowcase, and Rey reached out to smooth some of the strands back from his damp forehead.  Rey flinched and retracted her fingers when the man let out a whimpering sound, clutching his blankets tighter to his chest.  

“Please don’t,” he was begging some invisible assailant.  “Don’t hurt her.  Please.”

The dog lying at the foot of the bed let out a mournful whine and looked at Rey with beseeching eyes.

“Who?  Don’t hurt who?” Rey whispered, reaching out again.  She was pretty sure she knew the answer already.  She felt it deep in the marrow of her bones, perhaps etched there since time immemorial.  

“Don’t hurt Rey.  Take me instead,” he whimpered.

Rey sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed his hair back, resting her other hand gently on his shoulder.  “Shh.  I’m here.  No one’s hurting me.”  Rey paused and probed the depths of her mind, searching for something.  Finding a thread she didn’t realize was there, she touched it with her mind.  She felt rather than heard the name ‘Ben’ echo across her mind.

“I’m here, Ben,” she whispered as she smoothed his hair again.  Saying his name felt right.  “Ben,” she whispered again, enjoying the sound, the feel of it on her tongue.

Ben’s eyes shot open, and before Rey knew it, he’d seized her and had her pinned beneath him.  His eyes were wide, his pupils dilated in fear.  His chest was heaving.  Rey was shocked at the number of scars that ran across the pale skin of his torso.  He was holding her by the wrists, and she flexed her hands experimentally.  Ben loosened his grasp but did not let her up.

“Are you really here?” he asked in a raspy voice.  It sounded as if he’d been screaming.  Rey’s heart gave a lurch at the thought of him in pain.

Rey licked her lip.  She noticed his gaze flick to the tiny movement.  Was she?  “I don’t know,” she murmured honestly.

Ben hummed with exhaustion and flopped beside her on the bed, pulling her to him and holding tight.  Rey tucked the blankets around them both and let herself drift off with him breathing steadily behind her in the downy softness of his bed.

She woke again with a start, disappointed to find herself back on her cold hard floor, her stomach clenching unpleasantly.  Looking at her phone, she saw that it was well past two in the morning.  She groaned and rose stiffly, joints cracking, and shambled to her bed.  

She was snuggled deep in her covers when she sighed and closed her eyes, Dusty making himself comfortable at her feet, letting out an indignant meow at something.  Rey’s eyes shot open again when she felt strong arms wrap around her and pull her close to a warm, familiar chest.  One curled hand made its home near her heart, and she knew he could feel its frantic beat.

“I’m not going anywhere, Rey.  My Little Bird,” Ben murmured into her hair as his hand spread over her heart, feeling its beat.  “I’m Ben, by the way.”

“I know,” Rey replied quietly, closing her eyes with a smile.

[ocehart378]

CGOLDENWALL Multi-Purpose Steam Cleaner 2000W Adjustable Heavy Duty Rolling Cleaning Machine Home Steamer for Floor Carpet with 12 Accessories (Blue, with Storage Box)

Price: $186.00 (as of Mar 01,2021 11:15:30 UTC – Details)

Product Description

CGOLDENWALL

Parameters

Rated power: 2000WRated voltage: 110V, if you need a 220v steamer please inform us for customizationWater tank capacity: 2LHeating time: 5minWorking time: 30-60minMaximum pressure: 4 barMax clean area: 140 ㎡Product size: 360*250*220mmNet weight: 4.5 kg

Multifunctional steam cleaner

The advantage of our steam cleaner is that it can go deep into tiny gaps to remove dirt and use high temperature to kill 99.999% of bacteria, so as to achieve a healthy cleaning method that does not use chemicals, safe and efficient

1. 180° rotatable mop rod, clean without dead ends

2. High temperature disintegrates oily dirt, easily removes dirt and mites

3. Automatic air jet handle, no need to manually press for a long time

4. Child lock setting without pressing

5. Adjustable steam handle, steam size can be adjusted

5. Adjustable steam handle, steam size can be adjusted

Adjustable steam handle

The adjustable steam handle adopts a roller design. The steam size increases from left to right. You can adjust the steam size at will according to the actual situation. The steam pressure of 4 bar and the steam temperature of 126 ℃ can help you easily complete the cleaning work.

Dual indicator

The handle accords with ergonomic design and saves effort

The safety valve is used to block the steam pressure and will not open after the boiler is heated to a high temperature

Dual indicator light design, red light on indicates that the machine is in a state of water shortage

Closed boiler

The use of corrosion-resistant, strong thermal conductivity aluminum alloy boiler, high-precision temperature control system to control the temperature between 126-143 ℃, to ensure that the boiler quickly produces continuous and stable high pressure, high saturation steam

Winder

The 360° universal wheel allows the steam cleaner to change the moving direction at will according to the traction, and then follow you to clean every corner of the home.

The cable winder can help you better store the power cord up to 4m, let you say goodbye to the trouble of too long wires and avoid entanglement

Voltage

110V/220V

110V/220V

110V/220V

110V/220V

110V/220V

110V/220V

size

300*130*165mm

300*130*165mm

220*100*260mm

252*142*235mm

380 * 250 * 240mm

280*250*150mm

Net weight

1.5kg

1.5kg

1kg

1.35kg

3.7kg

1.35kg

Power

1600W

1600W

1500W

1050W

2000W

1500W

🏠【Multi-function】Our steam cleaner can not only quickly remove stubborn oil stains and dirt by outputting high temperature and high pressure steam, but also can be used as an iron to remove wrinkles on your clothes, and can also be used to increase air humidity 🏠【2000W strong power】The 2L large-capacity water tank (recommended water level 1.5L) can be heated within 5 minutes, and can provide continuous steam output for more than 30 minutes, automatic air jet handle, no need to manually press for a long time, cleaning work without pressure. 🏠【High-temperature and high-pressure steam】High-pressure steam of 4 bar and high-temperature steam above 110°C can not only easily dissolve stubborn stains, but also kill common bacteria and mites in the home, realize no chemical disinfection, and be suitable for cleaning baby bottles and stuffed toys To make the living space more comfortable and healthy 🏠【Dual indicator light】The working indicator (green light) and the water shortage indicator (red light) can visually display the working status of the machine, so that the machine can be operated and set correctly. 🏠【360º Clean】12 accessories meet the different needs of the home interior and other cleaning scenes, go deep into all corners of the gap, the adjustable steam handle adopts a roller design, and the steam size can be adjusted randomly according to actual needs.

https://eufyboostiqrobovac11s.com/product/cgoldenwall-multi-purpose-steam-cleaner-2000w-adjustable-heavy-duty-rolling-cleaning-machine-home-steamer-for-floor-carpet-with-12-accessories-blue-with-storage-box/

[bspoetryandart]

Another abandoned story

           Anna looked out the big front window of the supermarket as she picked up a hand basket; the moon was still visible up in the sky, a phantom sliver not completely overpowered by the sun.  She turned her attention back towards the vegetables, and it struck her that she was doing something wrong: a lady eight months pregnant should use a pushcart instead.  She would have to get used to taking it easy at least this last month.            She walked through the produce area, eggplants shining excitedly under the buzzing fluorescent lights.  The carrots seemed to glow in the case on the wall as water misted down onto them, and onto the lettuce, celery, scallions, and fresh potted herbs. It all looked so delicious she was almost sad to leave the area, but what she craved lay elsewhere in this store.            An old lady in a babushka looked her up and down as she turned the corner by the bread; she smiled, seeming to size Anna up in an instant, and pointed.  Her crooked finger, dry and gnarled as a tree branch, or rather, pasty and twisted like the poor excuse for a cruller they had in the bakery here, arced past the boys bowling with paper products to the second to last aisle.            Anna nodded and propelled her cart faster, the back right wheel spinning and skittering around like a gyroscope.  Pasta, rice, cereal, coffee, canned soups; frozen, frozen, oh- ice cream!- nevermind, nevermind; cleaning products, paper products, pet food, hygiene.  Here she was now, condiments, one aisle over from cookies and salty snacks.  The good back wheel of her cart left a skid mark as she whipped down the aisle, dodged around the old ladies arguing by the Worcestershire, avoided the kids playing with the ketchup, and arrived by the pickles.            There were so many to choose from: kosher, kosher dills, garlic, garlic dills, bread and butter, spicy, spicy bread and butter. The nuances of each pickle seemed to tickle her palate as she read the labels; she could feel the caress of the seeds, silky smooth on her tongue.  For general consumption, she would get the garlic dills, but today was a little hot, and she had always thought that kosher dills were better in the heat.  At the same time though, she was making macaroni and cheese for dinner, and she liked bread and butter better with that. But she could really go for a spicy one right now.            Anna loaded a few jars into the cart, limiting herself to three varieties.  She took a deep breath and nodded, readying herself to leave the aisle.  One step, two steps; oh heck, make that four varieties, she thought, grabbing a jar of sweet curry flavored pickles.  She had only ever seen them in this supermarket, so what would it hurt?            The checkout girl greeted her with a smile, pushing unwieldy glasses back up a petite nose as they slid down her oily skin. Her greasy hair was held back by an elastic band that may have looked stylish on a nun.  Anna smiled back thinking, gosh, that’s probably how I looked too before I discovered sex; but look where that’s got me to.  The girl gave Anna her change without any fuss over her belly, and Anna was extremely grateful for that.  The only thing worse than being pregnant was being reminded that you’re pregnant.            Anna took the paper bag with her pickles, hugged it, and left the market.  As she walked toward her car, she shifted the bag to rest in the crook of her left arm so she could fish the keys out of her purse.  She pressed the button for the doors and heard the lock clack open.  She opened the door and reached inside to unlock the back door.  She set the grocery bag onto the back seat, reaching in it to withdraw one jar.            Perhaps the sound of the jar unsealing masked the squeal of approaching tires, or maybe just the salty sweet curry flavor of the pickle, with just that hint of black pepper that married the flavors so well mesmerized Anna as she bit into it, setting the jar onto the roof of her car, that she didn’t notice at all as men jumped out of a white van behind her. She breathed in deeply, the pickle stub in her fingers right below her nose, savoring the rich aroma.  As she went to take a second bite, the men threw a bag over her head and hauled her through the open van doors.            The men piled into the van behind her, quickly, efficiently; though the last one paused a moment before stepping in.  The pickle lay on the ground at his feet.  He stepped on it as if stubbing out a cigarette, grinding it into the asphalt before throwing himself into the van as it started to speed away. 

           Police Chief Bob Chevaux sat behind his desk, tie loosened, peering intently into a magazine as his brows knit and he rolled a toothpick between his molars.  He was attempting to enjoy an art magazine his wife had subscribed to for him, saying he was so near retirement age now that he needed to learn to appreciate the things around him.  He flipped another page; all these abstracts looked like some genitals or other no matter what the commentators said.  He wished he could appreciate a beer as the glossy pages closed on themselves in his lap.            The morning light reflected off the top of his head as he leaned forward to grab his coffee cup.  A small amount of steam still rose from the surface; he set the cup back down. Bob pulled a small white handkerchief from his jacket pocket and mopped his bald pate with it.  He shouldn’t be sweating so badly.  At least not yet.            Outside, he watched a school bus drive slowly past, the children all laughing and playing on their way to class.  If only he were as carefree.  If only he didn’t have to go pick up one of his best friends from the prison he was sent to due to a case.  Casey had been forced to murder someone in order to show loyalty to go deep enough in the Brotherhood and get the information necessary to bring them down. Nine hundred innocent lives had been saved by Casey’s heroic efforts.  But that hadn’t been what put him away.            Bob reached for his cup again.  He inhaled deeply, exhaled, then threw the cup and his head back. The feeling of whipping his head back made him smile, if only momentarily. He savored the taste of the coffee and the feeling of an empty head for as long as he could before the memories overtook him again.            He had been seated right beside Casey in the courtroom when Elaine DeCroupier, Casey’s wife, had been murdered in the gallery. Everyone was shocked, the Great One’s third mistress, long thought dead, stabbed Elaine dozens of times as news crews covered it from every angle, never stepping in to stop the carnage, occasionally stepping in to correct her makeup or change the lighting.            Casey had calmly pushed back his seat on the floor of the courtroom, unbuttoned his jacket, drawn his gun, and, shrugging, put two bullets in the back of the woman’s head.  Just as calmly he had sat back down and buttoned his jacket back up.            “Chief Chevaux,” the intercom blurted, “it’s time for you to leave.”  Bob waved his finger over the intercom button for a second before pressing it.  The box seemed to sigh as he leant toward it.            “Thanks, Janice.”  He stood and stepped over to the large mahogany armoire that seemed mildly incongruous with the office of the Chief of Police.  Everything else in the room was made of disposable particle-board and aluminum framed furniture, the kind you see in a second-rate dentist’s office.            The armoire stood taller than Bob, with ornate clawed feet and a spectacularly engraved pair of doors depicting scenes from Milton’s Paradise Lost.  Looking at the tiny engraved images was about as close as the Police Chief got to literature. His passions lie outside the realms of museums and libraries.            A tiny sliver of light illuminated the center of the armoire as he began to open the doors.  He paused; in the little streak of light he could see nothing, just the gap of empty shelves and the mahogany back of the piece.  He opened the doors more, watching as the light flooded in, reflecting perkily off row upon row of expertly styled wigs in every color.  All the wigs had exquisite bangs.            Chief Chevaux looked at the back of the left door for a moment, leaning forward to kiss a picture of Maria Callas, her voice almost present even in the cheap black and white photo.  Then his eyes darted back to the wig heads.  Today felt platinum.            Taking a wig from the second shelf, right beside the one with red-orange ringlets, Bob leaned forward, then flipped his head backward with a mane of the purest blonde, hands frantically calming the stylish mess, cut almost even with his jaw-line, bangs slightly curled to plump them away from his forehead.            He looked at the back of the right door now, into the waiting mirror.  His wrinkled face looked so much younger with these bangs hiding the deep furrows of his brow.  He ran his fingers through the hair once more, methodically, then patted the bottom edge of the cut, appreciating the slight stylish taper.  Closing the armoire doors, he smiled and inhaled deeply.            “Laaaa, la la la..” he sang, how he imagined Maria might have warmed up for a performance.  If only the wigs imparted him with more than charisma and masculine good looks, if they could just give his raspy toad voice a little touch of the angelic.  He sighed and turned back to his desk.            Chief Chevaux packed what little he had brought to work today into his briefcase, snapped it shut on the desktop, then lifted his uniform hat from the surface and placed it atop his head.            Leaving his office, there was no one in the upstairs hallway to greet him.  He closed his door quietly and turned to the stairs.  As he approached, he could hear the hustle and bustle of the main office below him.  He adjusted his tie, brushed the sleeve of his jacket, and descended.            As he passed each person in the office, they smiled and nodded to him genially.  Generally he was a well-liked boss.  He tried to be fair in all dealings, never raised his voice, always encouraged his officers to greater personal growth, and had been asked by several of his subordinates to be godfather to their children.  A few hens with pointy glasses and neckerchiefs accenting their cheap floral dresses and wilted cardigans flocked over to the watercooler.  They stayed silent as he passed by, trying not to too obviously rubberneck as he left the building.  Temps.  They were just jealous of his shining locks. 

           The baby lay on his back in his crib, looking up at the ceiling as he had been doing for the last month.  Sometimes he looked at the walls of his crib, but that usually left him with a bad stiff neck and made him cranky for the whole day.  He burped a little; the hiccup compression of it seemed to loosen his bowels slightly.  He sighed.  Soon he would have to cry and that always made him cranky too.            He shook his little fists and little feet, kicked his legs, and yawned as wide as his chubby chin would allow without resistance. Light played through the curtains, leaving shadows and wisps of shadows on the ceiling as a light breeze rustled the fabric.            And then something was different; he couldn’t put his finger on it right away, not that he would be able to for at least a few more months, but hey, semantics, but something was certainly changing for him. His body began to feel lighter, as if he wasn’t being pulled as roughly by gravity into the pillows.  He was just getting used to the idea of gravity, that force that makes things move down, not that he knew what down was, except sometimes after feeding time when the gas made him cranky and then for a short while he got to view the ground.            “Gravity,” he thought, “must be some kind of universal force that draws objects together based upon relative masses and distances.” He nodded to himself.  He would have to test that next time he was in possession of a spoon.  But then it occurred to him, “Oh, I think I just died.”            It may seem an odd thought for a baby to have, what, not knowing much yet of what it means to be alive, but certainly the cracks that were appearing in the ceiling weren’t really there, nor the glow that burned brighter and brighter behind those cracks as they widened and flakes of reality snowed down upon him.  Certainly it seemed that something other than life was taking place here.            Much as people misunderstand the life they are given, so it would seem that they misunderstand death as the baby faced it. The room continued to peel away, much as an eggshell falls away from a chick as it pecks its way to freedom.  As the bland white walls fell away, so it seemed did the crib; he was now just floating in space, bright space.            Everything around him seemed warm and bright, soft to the touch, rounded and comfortable, rolling hills like breasts as far as his little eyes could see; the air here smelled sweet like milk and baby powder. He floated into the distance of his own private universe, not hungry, not cranky, not falling as he should if he knew anything concrete about the effects of gravity, but he was just a baby, so what did he know?            Back at the point of origin, the place where he had emerged into this new, warm, safe place, where he had left behind his fear of itches he couldn’t scratch, of psychologically loaded diaper smears, of formula that hadn’t quite dissolved properly likely because the water was just a tad too cool or ‘safe’ to quite hydrate those granules of powder, anguished cries rocked his body as it cooled in the crib, his mother desperately hugging his empty shell as tears streamed down her face. 

           “Are you sure?”  Reginald’s voice was excited but tinny through the cell phone speaker.            “Yes, very,” Detective Marcus Crosby replied. There was a puff of smoke at the end of the driveway, agitated road dirt that was visible between the buildings adjacent the gate for a fleeting moment.  “Have to go,” he said over a protest, snapping the phone shut beside his ear. 

           “….but..”  Reginald heard the snap of Crosby’s phone right before the line went dead. He sighed and lowered his head back to the pillow it had been resting on; he let the hand and arm attached to the phone relax at his side.  It took a moment for his sleep riddled brain to catch the enormity of what he’d just been told-            -his enemy, their enemy, was out of prison- before his legs started to kick of their own volition, his arms began to flail, his mouth curled up into a smile as bright as the day he first joined the Brotherhood.            He sat up and looked across the room at his desk; it was on the other side of a heap of fast food cartons and crocheted piglets. The blue button down shirt with its matching elastic waist pants stared back at him, the buttons on its chest shiny plastic pupils in their pocket eyes.  The tie beside it seemed to signal something furtively.  Reginald threw his legs over the front of the bed and stood up. He waded past the one hundred and forty-one yarn piglets, one for each member in prison, and looked right up into the ugly face of the work shirt.  Can you make that a diet?            “Not today,” he whispered, a renewed sense of purpose creeping up his spine to awaken the sleeping need for…something, he was sure of it.   “Not today.”            He, Reginald, was the most senior active member of the Brotherhood of the Black Crescent, one-hundred-and-forty-second in command from the Great One, largely by virtue of having forgotten to set the alarm the day the compound had been raided.  He and the ten men under him, most of whom were also drunkenly passed out in that motel by the highway, were the only members not present to be arrested; the only members now not behind bars.  And now they must be the ones to revenge upon their tormentor.            Sure, Casey had served three plus years so far for manslaughter involved in the bringing down of the Brotherhood, but that was nothing, a pittance of punishment compared to what he had done to them in court following the raid.  Not only had he not been professional at all in the way he handled himself before the jury, getting them to laugh, laugh!, at the Great One, but he had also incessantly taunted them, misspeaking their name as the Brotherhood of the Black Croissant, or the Black Currant, or, worst of all, the British Broadcasting Company, which he wasn’t sure why it bothered him so except that it did in a men-in-pantaloons-with-bad-teeth-making-puns kind of way.            It hadn’t been their fault that the name had to be shortened, there was just a slight oversight in the Master Adjunct’s zeal to get business cards: he had accidentally made the image file for the printer an inch too wide.  They had been the Brotherhood of the Black Crescent Moon until that little box of twenty five thousand showed up at their compound.  Luckily, the Great One’s name and phone number had been left aligned so they didn’t have to print a second batch, these things weren’t cheap for a growing cult. 

           “Your total will be sixty-three fifty-eight,” the tinny drive-thru speaker vomited, “please drive around.”  The driver of the van put it into gear and pulled forward.            “Keep her quiet now,” he said, peeling off his mask as he approached the takeout window.  The other men nodded and kept their places on and around Anna.  She was laying on her back, one of them on her legs, one on her chest, another holding onto the bag that kept her from seeing anything.  Under the linen, a gag had been roughly shoved into her mouth.            The driver rolled down the window of the van as the fast food attendant’s window folded open.  The driver smiled, straightening his hair a little nervously.  The cashier smiled back.            “Sixty-three fifty-eight, please.”  The cashier ticked his head slightly sideways after he spoke. The driver rummaged in his wallet and pulled out a bunch of twenties.  The cashier accepted them with a nod.  “One moment, your change.”            Magically, a set of white bags appeared beside the cashier as well as a tray of soda cups.  He put the money into his till and counted out the change, first to himself, then verifying the receipt, then he leaned forward and counted it into the driver’s hand.            “…four, five, seventy, eighty.”  He smiled again, then looked beyond the driver to the back of the van.  His smile faded, the gleam left his eye, then just as suddenly his professional face came back on, if a little creaky.  “Why are you sitting on a pregnant lady?”            The driver met his eye, then looked back into the van. With a jerk of his head he indicated they should get off of Anna.  The accomplices looked back and forth at each other nervously as the cashier’s smile became better oiled again.            “I bet you didn’t even order her anything to eat, did you?”  Another magic bag appeared beside him, and the cashier straightened up, then looked up at his invisible help, shrugging, covering the microphone of his headset with his hand.  “Kidnappers these days.”  The takeout window accordioned closed again as he started pressing buttons on the register.

[ocehart378]

CGOLDENWALL Multi-Purpose Steam Cleaner 2000W Adjustable Heavy Duty Rolling Cleaning Machine Home Steamer for Floor Carpet with 12 Accessories (Blue, with Storage Box)

Price: $186.00 (as of Mar 01,2021 11:15:30 UTC – Details)

Product Description

CGOLDENWALL

Parameters

Rated power: 2000WRated voltage: 110V, if you need a 220v steamer please inform us for customizationWater tank capacity: 2LHeating time: 5minWorking time: 30-60minMaximum pressure: 4 barMax clean area: 140 ㎡Product size: 360*250*220mmNet weight: 4.5 kg

Multifunctional steam cleaner

The advantage of our steam cleaner is that it can go deep into tiny gaps to remove dirt and use high temperature to kill 99.999% of bacteria, so as to achieve a healthy cleaning method that does not use chemicals, safe and efficient

1. 180° rotatable mop rod, clean without dead ends

2. High temperature disintegrates oily dirt, easily removes dirt and mites

3. Automatic air jet handle, no need to manually press for a long time

4. Child lock setting without pressing

5. Adjustable steam handle, steam size can be adjusted

5. Adjustable steam handle, steam size can be adjusted

Adjustable steam handle

The adjustable steam handle adopts a roller design. The steam size increases from left to right. You can adjust the steam size at will according to the actual situation. The steam pressure of 4 bar and the steam temperature of 126 ℃ can help you easily complete the cleaning work.

Dual indicator

The handle accords with ergonomic design and saves effort

The safety valve is used to block the steam pressure and will not open after the boiler is heated to a high temperature

Dual indicator light design, red light on indicates that the machine is in a state of water shortage

Closed boiler

The use of corrosion-resistant, strong thermal conductivity aluminum alloy boiler, high-precision temperature control system to control the temperature between 126-143 ℃, to ensure that the boiler quickly produces continuous and stable high pressure, high saturation steam

Winder

The 360° universal wheel allows the steam cleaner to change the moving direction at will according to the traction, and then follow you to clean every corner of the home.

The cable winder can help you better store the power cord up to 4m, let you say goodbye to the trouble of too long wires and avoid entanglement

Voltage

110V/220V

110V/220V

110V/220V

110V/220V

110V/220V

110V/220V

size

300*130*165mm

300*130*165mm

220*100*260mm

252*142*235mm

380 * 250 * 240mm

280*250*150mm

Net weight

1.5kg

1.5kg

1kg

1.35kg

3.7kg

1.35kg

Power

1600W

1600W

1500W

1050W

2000W

1500W

🏠【Multi-function】Our steam cleaner can not only quickly remove stubborn oil stains and dirt by outputting high temperature and high pressure steam, but also can be used as an iron to remove wrinkles on your clothes, and can also be used to increase air humidity 🏠【2000W strong power】The 2L large-capacity water tank (recommended water level 1.5L) can be heated within 5 minutes, and can provide continuous steam output for more than 30 minutes, automatic air jet handle, no need to manually press for a long time, cleaning work without pressure. 🏠【High-temperature and high-pressure steam】High-pressure steam of 4 bar and high-temperature steam above 110°C can not only easily dissolve stubborn stains, but also kill common bacteria and mites in the home, realize no chemical disinfection, and be suitable for cleaning baby bottles and stuffed toys To make the living space more comfortable and healthy 🏠【Dual indicator light】The working indicator (green light) and the water shortage indicator (red light) can visually display the working status of the machine, so that the machine can be operated and set correctly. 🏠【360º Clean】12 accessories meet the different needs of the home interior and other cleaning scenes, go deep into all corners of the gap, the adjustable steam handle adopts a roller design, and the steam size can be adjusted randomly according to actual needs.

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