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customgymequipment1 · 11 months ago
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Best Commercial Power Racks for Your Gym
Commercial power racks are designed for a variety of compound exercises, including bench presses, overhead presses, squats, chin-ups, and more. The rack's structure allows for a multitude of exercises, making it suitable for full-body workouts
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raptorpowersystems · 8 days ago
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Industrial Rack Power: Reliable Solutions for Your Critical Needs Elevate your operations with Industrial Rack Power solutions built for efficiency and durability. Designed for demanding environments, these systems ensure seamless performance, precision control, and unmatched reliability. Optimize your power infrastructure with tailored solutions that meet industrial challenges head-on. Trust in innovation engineered for long-lasting success.
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commercialgymequipment · 8 months ago
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How to Create an Effective Exercise Routine with Fitness Equipment
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In today's fast-paced world, maintaining a healthy lifestyle has become more important than ever. One of the key components of a healthy lifestyle is regular exercise. Whether you're looking to lose weight, build muscle, or improve your overall health, incorporating fitness equipment into your exercise routine can help you achieve your goals more effectively. In this blog post, we'll explore how you can create an effective exercise routine using fitness equipment, focusing on commercial fitness equipment, commercial gym suppliers, commercial gym machines, and commercial gym equipment.
Set Clear Goals:
Before you start using fitness equipment, it's essential to set clear and achievable goals. Whether you want to lose weight, build muscle, or improve your overall fitness, having specific goals will help you stay motivated and track your progress.
Choose the Right Equipment:
When selecting fitness equipment for your routine, consider your goals, fitness level, and budget. Commercial fitness equipment, such as treadmills, ellipticals, and stationary bikes, are great options for cardiovascular workouts. If you're looking to build muscle, consider incorporating weight machines, dumbbells, and kettlebells into your routine.
Start Slowly and Progress Gradually:
If you're new to exercise or have been inactive for a while, it's essential to start slowly and gradually increase the intensity of your workouts. This will help prevent injuries and allow your body to adapt to the new routine.
Mix Cardiovascular and Strength Training:
A well-rounded exercise routine should include both cardiovascular and strength training exercises. Cardiovascular exercises, such as running or cycling, help improve your heart health and burn calories. Strength training exercises, such as lifting weights, help build muscle and increase your metabolism.
Incorporate Flexibility and Balance Exercises:
In addition to cardiovascular and strength training, it's essential to incorporate flexibility and balance exercises into your routine. These exercises help improve your flexibility, balance, and range of motion, reducing the risk of injury and improving your overall performance.
Listen to Your Body:
It's important to listen to your body and adjust your routine accordingly. If you experience pain or discomfort during exercise, stop immediately and consult a healthcare professional. Overtraining can lead to injuries and setbacks in your fitness journey.
Stay Consistent:
Consistency is key to achieving your fitness goals. Try to exercise regularly, ideally at least 3-4 times per week, to see the best results. Remember that progress takes time, so be patient and stay motivated.
Conclusion
In conclusion, creating an effective exercise routine with fitness equipment requires setting clear goals, choosing the right gym equipment, starting slowly, mixing cardio and strength training, incorporating flexibility and balance exercises, listening to your body, and staying consistent. By following these tips, you can create a workout routine that helps you achieve your fitness goals and improve your overall health and well-being.
FAQs
Q: What is the best commercial fitness equipment for beginners? A: For beginners, it's best to start with simple and easy-to-use equipment such as treadmills, stationary bikes, or ellipticals. These machines provide a low-impact workout and are great for building cardiovascular endurance.
Q: How often should I change my commercial gym machines? A: The frequency of changing commercial gym machines depends on several factors, including the quality of the equipment, the usage intensity, and maintenance. Generally, high-quality machines can last for several years with regular maintenance and servicing.
Q: Are there any specific exercises I should avoid when using commercial fitness equipment? A: While commercial fitness equipment is generally safe to use, it's essential to use proper form and technique to avoid injury. Avoid using heavy weights or machines that you are not familiar with without proper supervision or instruction.
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electronalytics · 1 year ago
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fitkingfitness · 1 year ago
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Prone Leg Curl U 2001 | Fitking Fitness
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angelwebpromotion · 2 years ago
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assisted pull up machine for sale | Commercial Power Rack - customgymequipment
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Buy assisted pull up machine for sale online at the best price. Shop from our wide range of exercise equipment at affordable prices for fitness centers. Commercial Power Rack, rigs, power cages from Legend Fitness, York Barbell, Body Solid, Valor Fitness, Muscle D and more. Free shipping on most orders.
https://customgymequipment.ie/
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ashwanias · 2 years ago
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assisted pull up machine for sale | Commercial Power Rack - customgymequipment
assisted pull up machine for sale | Commercial Power Rack - customgymequipment
Buy assisted pull up machine for sale online at the best price. Shop from our wide range of exercise equipment at affordable prices for fitness centers. Commercial Power Rack, rigs, power cages from Legend Fitness, York Barbell, Body Solid, Valor Fitness, Muscle D and more. Free shipping on most orders.
https://customgymequipment.ie/
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carsthatnevermadeitetc · 4 months ago
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Lotus Elan S3, 1966. The Elan was an era-defining car and was for Lotus, their first really commercially successful road car. It featured a steel backbone chassis with a fibreglass body and was powered by a DOHC 1,558 cc engine, with 4-wheel disc brakes, rack and pinion steering and 4-wheel independent suspension. Sales were boosted in the UK and internationally when the character Emma Peel (played by Diana Ring) drove one in 60’s TV series The Avengers. It provided the template for the Mazda MX-5 Miata. In 2004, Sports Car International placed the Elan number 6 in a list of Top Sports Cars of the 1960s. 
PS: Diana Rigg had to learn to drive for the TV show, Lotus gave her the car when she left The Avengers, but she wasn't a keen driver and passed the Elan onto a friend. More recently Dame Diana played the role of Olenna Tyrell in Game of Thrones, she passed away in 2020, aged 82. R.I.P
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kpopfanfictrash · 2 years ago
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Until Death (M)
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Author: kpopfanfictrash
Creative Contributor:@baebae-goodnight​ for this unbelievable moodboard truly, like, WHAT
Genre: Green Bone Saga!AU || Organized Crime / Forbidden Romance / Suspense + Action
Author’s Note: This one shot is set in the Green Bone Saga universe, written by Fonda Lee. You do not need to have read this series in order to read this one shot (I explain concepts/terms), but I do HIGHLY encourage you to read this series at some point because it’s absolutely amazing!! Anyways, Yoongi dropped the Haegeum MV and I was like.... did he read Jade City lol. Further disclaimer this is not a retelling of the books, nor does the Kaul family exist in this version of Kekon (although the No Peak clan does)
Pairing: Yoongi / Reader
Synopsis: Jade has always shaped the island of Kekon. Mined from the mountains, it enhances the abilities of Green Bone warriors who wear it and allows them protection from outside harm. No one understands these threats better than you do, second-in-command of the mighty No Peak clan. 
When a new danger appears, seeming to come from within, everything you once took for granted is called into question. Including the bonds you’ve made, some more dangerous than the others. None more so than Min Yoongi, head of No Peak and the only one capable of destroying your heart.    
Rating: 18+
Warnings: graphic violence, fight scenes and mature content (character dies in the story; not main character) 
NSFW Warnings: dirty talk, nipple play, fingering, spanking, oral (female), multiple orgasms, possessiveness, unprotected sex (couple is monogamous), spit, hand job
Word Count: 17,650
[ Cross-posted to Wattpad here ]
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“There’s a rat in our midst,” Jungkook growls, slamming his fist to the table.
No one in the room flinches, although several glance fleetingly in the direction of the Pillar. The typically mild-mannered head of No Peak frowns, clearly disturbed by the recent attacks. Only a madman wouldn’t be.
Still, his voice remains calm while answering your second Fist. “That remains to be seen,” Yoongi says. As though the current situation could be perceived as anything but a threat.
Subtle, you flick a glance towards him, then away. In the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi’s lips curve before smoothing to nothing. Lowering his palms to rest on the table, the ends of his sleeves rise to reveal solid jade.
Leaning back, you survey the table before you. As the Horn of No Peak, it’s your job to defend the clan’s territory – by force, if necessary. Several levels of Green Bone warriors report into you, including your Fingers (the lowest of soldiers) and Fists, your direct reports.
Jungkook became Second Fist only a month prior but already, he’s created a name for himself. An impulsive, somewhat violent name for himself.
In this case though, you happen to agree with him. Not one, but two Lantern Men – commercial patrons of No Peak – have turned up dead in the past week, tortured beyond recognition. Over a week has passed since the first murder and still, there’s no suspect. Neither man was wealthy nor wore jade beyond a single piercing. Each was killed in a different part of town with no family in common. For a week, you’ve been racking your brain for motive and coming up empty.
Peeved by the thought, your fingertips dig into your leather jacket. Perceiving the shift to your aura, Yoongi starts to turn – catching himself just in time and facing forward.
An assortment of Lantern Men, Fists and Luckbringers (the money-making side of the clan) sit around a worn table. All watch the Pillar warily, as though uncertain how this meeting will end.
Tilting his head, strands of dark hair fall across Yoongi’s forehead. Studs of green line his ears, a single bolt of jade threaded through his right brow. Since the Academy, Yoongi has preferred to wear his jade as piercings – except for the clusters on fingers and wrists. He flexes these now, a visual display of power.
Jade from the island of Kekon is powerful; toxic to all but the Green Bones trained to wear it. To them, it grants unique power in each of the six disciplines: Strength, Steel, Perception, Lightness, Deflection and Channeling. Being from Kekon is no guarantee a person can wear and use jade, though. Individual tolerance varies, with most not able to withstand more than a few pieces.
No one in No Peak wears more jade than the Pillar – no one but you, that is.
This thought brings little comfort in a room such as this. Most of the sycophants seated around the table would turn on Yoongi – and No Peak – in a heartbeat. If it’d enrich their coffers, they would switch sides, honor be damned. You trust your Fists and Fingers but find it hard to extend the same grace to Namjoon’s side of the clan.
Kim Namjoon, known as the Weather Man, heads No Peak’s monetary ventures. Ranking as highly as you, he reports directly to Yoongi. Turning to face Namjoon, you make no attempt to hide your suspicion.
Although he doesn’t meet your gaze, his annoyance flares. Namjoon’s jade aura is weaker, fueled by one or two jade rings on his fingers. More would be unnecessary in his line of work. Namjoon’s lips tighten, able to Perceive your attention.
Perception is one of the more interesting skills of a Green Bone. Wearing jade creates an aura and through it, other Green Bones can sense emotion and intention. For example, you sense that Namjoon is annoyed, but you don’t know why. You can hazard a guess, based on the context.
Although you both graduated from the Academy at the same time, you barely knew Namjoon in your youth. The Kim family is legendary, having fought alongside Yoongi’s grandfather to dispel the Shotarian occupation of Kekon. You, on the other hand, moved to the city of Janloon when you were ten and joined the Academy as an outsider.
Not only were your social circles different, so were your interests. Even as children, Namjoon preferred brains over brawn, while you – well, you don’t enjoy violence, but you understood its necessity in protecting those you love. Ever since your father’s death, what you love has been No Peak.
You suppose Yoongi could’ve picked a worse person for Weather Man. Namjoon is shrewd, if occasionally withholding. He has the best interests of the clan at heart, even if you often disagree about what those interests are.
“Min-jen,” Namjoon says, the respectful title flowing from him like water. “I share your frustration with the current situation. My men are, of course, at your disposal.”
Your gaze narrows on his profile. Namjoon loves to offer help but when push comes to shove, it’s your side of the clan on the front lines.
“And what will your men do?” you inquire, drawing heads your way. “The entirety of their green couldn’t be seen in a desert.”
Someone down the table coughs, although they swiftly fall silent when Yoongi clears his throat. Disappointment radiates from him, turning his head.
“One’s worth to the clan isn’t measured in jade,” he says levelly. “You’d do well to remember that, in the future.”
Sitting back, you school your expression to nothing. Shame swirls in your stomach though because Yoongi is right. His sister is a stone-eye; someone unable to use or wear jade. Yejun feels nothing of jade’s effects – either positive or negative – but serves the clan in her own way. Kekon is superstitious about such things though and, when Yejun was born, rumors ran rampant it boded ill for Yoongi’s leadership. Rumors the Pillar has done his best to stamp out.
“Yes, Min-jen,” you acquiesce, inclining your head.
“My Luckbringers are reviewing financial statements of the victims,” Namjoon says, as though you haven’t spoken. “If there’s any monetary connection between them, we’ll find it.”
“My Fists are also investigating,” you add. “We’ll keep the clan updated.”
A scoff from the lower end of the table. Turning your head, you find Mr. Hu, a wealthy Lantern Man, watching you with a scowl. Middle-aged, with a portly belly from hoji, the man has never accepted you as his Horn. As the first woman bestowed the honor, you expected there to be some resistance.
Not that it endears him to you. Sweetly, you smile and lean forward. “Did you have something to add, Mr. Hu?”
Briefly, his gaze drops to the jade around your throat. Forcing a swallow, he forces his gaze to lift. You must give him credit; the man continues, despite the visual reminder you could kill him in seconds.
“Investigating what?” he asks, puffing out his chest. “I saw the second victim being brought in. There was… well. There was little to see. Tortured,” he adds, addressing the muttering around the table. “The man was mercilessly tortured before he was killed.”
Perceiving the shift in Yoongi’s emotions – edging towards fury – you hasten your response.
“Mr. Hu,” you say, lightly resting your hand on a Talon knife. “I thank you, for having the foresight to raise such an important issue.”
Frowning, he glances left and right, but his fellow Lantern Men avoid him. Likely, they understand this won’t end well. Indeed, Jungkook is already eyeing the man with barely concealed malice, thumb stroking slowly over the hilt of his sword.
“The fact that both victims were tortured,” you continue, conversational. “Almost as though the killer were looking for something.”
“Or someone,” Namjoon adds.
“Or someone,” you agree, focusing on Mr. Hu. “My men are searching the murder sites for more information now. While they do that though, are there any other details of an active murder investigation you’d like to know? Perhaps whether the victims pissed themselves before death, or left money behind?”
Paling, Mr. Hu seems to realize how this sounds. “N-no,” he says. “Thank you for sharing what you have, Horn-jen.”
Ignoring him, you glance in the direction of Yoongi. “We’ll find the traitor. I swear it.”
His aura flares, full of emotion unrelated to the conversation at hand. “Of that, I have no doubt,” Yoongi says lowly.
Heat floods your face, sensing his intent and swiftly, you look away before others can notice.
“While the Horn and Weather Man conduct their investigations, I ask for everyone to remain on high alert,” Yoongi says, surveying the table. “No Peak will increase Green Bone presence in the border districts. If you see anything of interest, contact the clan.”
Several Lantern Men relax at the mention of Green Bones. You know business has been hard as of late, with so many customers shaken by the violence. Hopefully, this will convince the people No Peak has the situation in hand. Otherwise, why would the Lantern Men continue to pay for your protection?
Glancing at the bloody photographs laid out on the table, you can hardly blame them for their skittishness. Whoever killed these two victims was skilled. Their torture tactics are pristine, better than most graduates from the Academy. A skill you also possess, although you choose not to use it outside of last resorts. Even then –
Your fingers cease tapping against your leather jacket. Straightening, you realize the skill displayed is exactly that of the Academy. The cuts, the angle of the blade and depth of the wounds – all of it, textbook. A Green Bone did this, you’re certain.
Sharply, you glance up and allow your distress to show. Voicing your suspicion aloud would only end badly. Above all, the Pillar must appear in control. If a Green Bone – even a disgraced one – is murdering citizens of No Peak, it would be a disaster. Better to discuss your suspicions in private before airing them to the entire group.
Perceiving the shift in your emotions, Yoongi stiffens. “We’ll update you with any new information,” he says, dismissal clear in his tone. “Thank you for coming.”
Chair legs scrape floorboards, patrons filing out as they murmur to one another. Asha, your First Fist, hovers by the door until you give a discreet shake of your head. Nodding, she slips out and you see Jungkook follow.
To one side, Yoongi converses tersely with his Pillarman, Hoseok, until Hoseok exhales and swiftly exits the room. Kim Namjoon stays, drinking a glass of water at the opposite end of the table. Once you three are alone, Yoongi holds up his hand. He waits, utterly still until the last jade aura fades.
Only then does he turn. “Well, Y/N?” he drawls. “What did you realize?”
Not wasting time, you pluck a photograph from the pile and toss it before him. “These cuts,” you explain. “They were made by a moon blade. So precise – so even. Exactly the length taught at the Academy. Which means–”
“Shit,” Namjoon mutters. He sets down his glass. “We’re fucked.”
You give him a look. “Precisely.”
Yoongi frowns, his distaste palpable. “This is the work of a Green Bone.”
“I think so.”
Pushing his chair back to stand, Namjoon grabs a photo and turns it sideways. “Why would a Green Bone go after a Lantern Man, though?” he wonders out loud. “He wasn’t even wearing jade when he died – it’s against aisho.”
Yoongi’s lips press tightly together.
Aisho refers to the strict code of honor governing all who wear jade. There are many tenets, but first and foremost is that those who wear jade don’t harm the jadeless. Aisho also limits retaliation following honorable duels, ensuring the clan lines remain intact.
A Green Bone who follows aisho would never attack a citizen.
Which forces you to draw an unsavory conclusion. “Unless they didn’t care,” you say, voicing the worst possibility. “The killer could have been trained as a Green Bone and left.” Stiffening slightly, you glance at Yoongi. “You don’t think…”
“I do,” Yoongi mutters. His jaw clenches, then unclenches. “Maro.”
Namjoon swears softly.
Maro – known to most as Toh Marosun – is a traitor to No Peak. He grew up in the same circle as Namjoon, Yoongi, and other high-ranking Green Bones. Maro attended the Academy in the same class as Yoongi, and everyone expected him to become the Horn. Brilliant, swift, and vicious in battle – not to mention one of Yoongi’s closest friends.
Despite this fact, you never liked him. Having grown up the only daughter of an unremarkable Lantern Man, you experienced Maro the way most people did. Toh Marosun was cruel. Saccharine, willing to say whatever people in power wanted to hear. Maro knew exactly what to do, what to say to manipulate followers. From the beginning, you saw Maro for who he was – a bully.
He joined No Peak’s ranks as a Finger, but swiftly rose to prominence. By the time you graduated, Maro was the youngest Fist in No Peak’s history. What he lacked in jade tolerance he made up for in cunning. Maro was always more sensitive to jade, but he was also smart. Talented, with the skills he did have.
In Green Bone society, there are two ways to gain jade – gifted or earned. Green Bones win jade through physical duels, taking the green from those they defeat. Recklessly, Maro began to challenge rival clans and often, he won despite not being able to wear his spoils. He displayed his jade often, which you suppose should’ve been the first warning sign.
Maro cared too much for personal glory. In Kekon, glory is achieved through the clan. Even the Horn and the Weather Man only exist to further No Peak’s prowess. The Pillar themselves is the embodiment of the clan, not their own person.
Even now, you recall the day Maro’s crimes were exposed.
Seven years prior, you were a Finger on routine patrol when Sain, your Fist, was commanded to return to the Min property. He brought you along, stationed by the front gate to ensure no one left.
You guarded with another Finger, one whose name you don’t recall. What you do remember is the utter stillness of the day, the unnatural calm which comes before a storm. The sun was bright overhead, a thick bead of sweat sliding down your neck when the door behind you at the main house banged open.
A man tumbled down the steps, landing in a heap in the billowing dirt. Coughing, he struggled to right himself, but both his hands were bound. From your spot at the gate, you couldn’t see clearly but you scented his blood. Heard the bruised rasp of his breath.
Yoongi prowled down the front steps, his famed Da Tanori steel glinting in his right hand. His gaze never wavered from the man bound before him – Toh Marosun, his former friend.
“Do you deny it?” Yoongi asked, his voice soft but deadly. Despite this, you Perceived conflicting emotions within.
Toh Maro stayed silent. Eventually, he exhaled.
“No,” he said sullenly.
Unable to stop it, you turned and saw Maro staring unflinchingly up at the Pillar. Yoongi stood over him, his lips a thin line of displeasure. You didn’t know what had happened but feared the worst from Yoongi’s expression.
In that moment, you didn’t envy the Pillar. Yoongi had become head of No Peak only a year prior; in many ways, he was as untried as you were. He was a silent, intelligent man and many people thought they could take advantage of him.
They were wrong, of course, but it would take time to prove that.
On that day though, you felt the dull grief to his aura. “Then I am sorry,” Yoongi said quietly. “For you leave me with no choice. Toh Marosun, you stand accused of smuggling jade from No Peak – one of the worst crimes a Green Bone can commit.”
The entirety of your blood drained as you turned around.
Spine steeling, you gripped your knives tighter. There were few crimes so awful they couldn’t be forgiven, but stealing from the clan was one of them. Cutting off Maro’s ear would be too light a punishment, especially with Yoongi so untried a Pillar. Death would be acceptable. Expected, even.
It would be the Pillar’s call – the clans weren’t run as a democracy. Straining Perception, you listened closely behind you. Although you’d interacted little with the Pillar, the man behind the mask couldn’t help but intrigue you.
Broken sobs filled the clearing, and you heard the sudden thud of knees hitting the grass. No jade aura accompanied the sound.
“Yoongi, please,” gasped a voice – feminine, young. “Brother, please spare him. Don’t kill him, he –”
“Silence.” Yoongi’s voice echoed over the courtyard. The newcomer obeyed with a lone, stifled sob. “You’ve been found innocent, sister,” he said, sounding weary. “But that does not make you innocent.”
The threat of his words hung overhead and although Yejun continued to sniffle, the sound of it muffled. When you glanced sideways again, you saw her face in her palms.
Yoongi watched dispassionately, although you sensed his inner turmoil. Rumors had reached your ears by then that Maro was dating Yejun. It seemed to be true, based on the way she pleaded.
Returning to face the gate, the yard remained silent until Yoongi exhaled. “Toh Marosun,” he declared, his sword sheathing. “From this day on, you are banished from Kekon. Return your jade to the clan and go. If you return to Janloon, your life is forfeit. Take him,” he said, speaking to someone you couldn’t see.
You didn’t dare turn, but tugged your knives a half-inch from their sheathes. If Maro decided to fight, you’d be expected to protect the Pillar. For whatever reason – disbelief, or respect – Maro didn’t attack, and no violence took place. He left in the waiting car, but you’ll never forget the look on his face when he passed.
Despite your young age, you recognized the glint in his eye. Fury, tempered by disbelief. He’ll be back, you thought grimly. It was only a matter of time before someone like Maro declared vengeance.
Your gaze slid to Yoongi, wondering if he felt the same. He watched Maro leave, his expression carefully neutral before he turned around and entered the house. Yejun had already disappeared, likely leaving upon Maro’s banishment.
The expression on Yoongi’s face now is similar, staring down at the photograph. Another moment passes before you realize something else.
“They knew each other,” you say, glancing between the victims. Reaching out, your hand lightly touches a photo. “Icho Retubin. He worked for the Weather Man after the Academy. And this man here” – you touch the other – “Niru Roluan. A low-ranking Finger who quit after a year.”
“He was friendly with Marosun,” Namjoon recalls.
“Yes.” Eyes wide, you look up. “After Maro’s scheme was uncovered, both of them quit and began working as Lantern Men.”
“Interesting,” Yoongi muses. “So. Toh Marosun returns. He tortures and kills his former friends – why?” he murmurs, speaking more to himself than either of you.
Brow lowering, you search for the easy answer. “He’s torturing them for something,” you say, glancing at the wounds. “Information, maybe.”
Yoongi tilts his head. “Which begs the question – has Maro found what he wants, or is he still looking?”
“Does it matter?”
Namjoon shrugs at your question. “If Maro hasn’t found what he wants, he’ll strike again. If he did find it – well. We might be out of time.”
Yoongi considers. “He didn’t find it,” he says, turning around to stride for the door. “Call it a gut feeling.”
Your gaze narrows on his backside. “Let’s call it more than that.”
Yoongi turns around, lips twitching in a smile only you see. “I can think of two reasons Maro might return. One – jade.” The Pillar lifts a finger. “Or, two – revenge.” His second lifts.
You and Namjoon exchange a look. “Maro could find jade on the Shotarian black market if he wanted,” you say.
“Exactly.” Yoongi drops his hand. “Which is why I’m inclined to call this revenge.”
“Maro could want revenge on anyone, though,” Namjoon points out. “Most likely whoever sold him out in the first place.”
“Well, that makes this easier.” Casual, Yoongi tucks both hands in his pockets. “I sold him out. I discovered details of his jade smuggling in Yejun’s apartment.”
“Yejun?” Sharply, you look at him. “Your sister knew?”
Yoongi’s gaze hardens. “Yes, she knew,” he says. “I’m sure you understand why I kept that piece of information to myself until now. Yejun wasn’t involved with the smuggling, but she knew it was happening… and didn’t tell me,” he adds, his voice grim.
Mind reeling, you attempt to digest this piece of information. Betrayal lodges deep in your gut, although you do your best to dispel it. It’s pointless to expect Yoongi to tell you everything – especially events which occurred before you became the Horn.
Namjoon also looks troubled. “That’s… but that means–”
“Careful what you say, Namjoon.” Although his tone remains soft, Yoongi’s body tenses. “The matter is done. I punished Yejun as I saw fit, within my right as Pillar. Trust me,” he adds, his façade cracking a little. “Her deception was dealt with.”
Silently, you wonder if this is why Yejun studied in Espenia. As a stone-eye, she can’t serve the clan as a Green Bone, but could have taken other paths. She could have become a Luckbringer on Namjoon’s side or begun a career in government. Instead, Yejun left Janloon for a foreign University. It was only recently she returned to start her residency at Jan Royal University.
Curious, your gaze flicks to Yoongi. If what he says is true, then surely, he knows Maro is coming for him. Yejun might not have betrayed him, but Min Yoongi did. It’s only a matter of time before Maro discovers what happened.
Blood simmering, you do your best to hide your frustration. Your role as Horn would be much easier if the Pillar would be honest about all his enemies. Suppressing your scowl, you ignore the heat of Yoongi’s gaze on the side of your face.
“Namjoon,” he says, turning away. “I want a list of potential targets. People Maro has worked with in the past or knew at the Academy. Assuming he doesn’t have the information he wants, Maro will strike again.”
“On it,” Namjoon says, already heading for the door.
Although faint, you can feel the cool brush of his aura passing. You envy the Weather Man’s ability to ingest information and remove partiality. Even after something like Yejun’s betrayal, he remains unflappable. Namjoon simply absorbs and executes, doing what needs to be done.
Left alone with your thinking, you can’t claim the same. Namjoon’s jade aura fades when he exits, footsteps receding to leave you alone with the Pillar.
You refuse to look at him, casting your Perception outward. A Green Bone with as much jade as you have can Perceive a beetle crawling through the tall grass outside. Feel the rumble of cars on the distant streets. Hear Yoongi’s heart beat from across the room.
Wearing jade results in a dizzying expansion of knowledge. You’re used to it by now – years of training and genetics lessen the risk of being overwhelmed. Without either, it’s all too easy to lose control.
It’s one of the reasons jade-smuggling is a serious crime. The other being that jade is the main source of income funding the clans. Selling jade through non-regulated channels increases the risk of it falling into the wrong hands. Hands which could bring negative consequences to other people or themselves.
Aisho outlines a strict Green Bone code of honor. It states Kekon first, clan first, family first. Occasionally, all three are tied and occasionally, one outstrips the other. Maro disobeyed every rule by selling jade to the Shotarians.
Maro knew all this and chose to continue, blinded by greed. He placed his personal glory above that of the clan, something which must be dealt with. To a lesser degree, Yejun chose Maro over No Peak, as well – which is why you’re surprised Yoongi said nothing.
“Y/N.”
Yoongi speaks your name softly, forgoing your title.
Stiffening, you force yourself not to turn. “Don’t call me that.”
“What?” he asks, his voice moving closer. “Your name?”
Hand brushing your elbow, Yoongi turns you to face him. Against all better judgement, you obey – and find your first mistake. Meeting his gaze, a ripple of familiarity – of home, a voice whispers – goes through you.
Shutting all this down, you lift your chin. “You lied to me.”
Yoongi’s expression flattens. “I couldn’t explain.”
“You could have. You chose not to.”
“I couldn’t,” he insists. “I’m still not sure I didn’t make a mistake. I showed mercy, Y/N.” Yoongi pauses, then swallows. “I exiled my friend and sent my sister away – and now, look what’s happened. Two men have been killed, and it’s my fault. How could I have told you,” he adds, the words desperate, “when I knew it’d result in that look on your face?”
“I’m looking at you like this because you lied. Not because of a decision you made in the past. Mercy isn’t a weakness, Min Yoongi.”
“Some would say that it is,” he murmurs. Fleeting, his gaze drops to your lips. 
Yoongi drops all restraint so his emotion, so often concealed, smears through his aura. Longing, anger and fear, mixed with worry. 
White-hot electricity jumps over your skin. Seeing the normally reserved Pillar undone in your presence is a heady knowledge. Knowledge that terrifies you, even as everything in you aches to move closer.
“It’s not,” you exhale, meeting his gaze.
Something falters in his expression and Yoongi stares at you, heated. You Perceive his intent – a rough flare to his aura – a moment before Yoongi bends and crushes your mouth to his. His kiss is thorough, intent, his body curving with yours while walking you towards the wall.
You instantly cave, unable to withstand the desperate sweep of his tongue. “Yoongi,” you groan, fingers gripping him tighter. “People will hear.”
“Let them,” he says, his voice undeterred.
Before you can respond, his lips fall upon yours with increasing urgency. Hand slipping beneath your jacket, Yoongi cups your waist to pull you taut against him. Eyes falling shut, you swiftly scan the building for lingering Green Bones. Finding no one, you return your attention to Yoongi and bite down on his lip.
He growls, grip tightening when you tug him towards you. Breaking away, Yoongi lowers his head to suck the curve of your throat. He lingers at your jade, tongue darting out to lick the skin underneath. Your entire body shudders, aroused by the sensation.
Touching another person’s jade is intimate. Most wouldn’t allow their own family the honor, let alone someone they sleep with. Skin contact with jade imbues power, and the swift rise and fall of it can be dangerous. Only Yoongi is brave – or foolish – enough to risk the effects.
Spine on the wall, you inhale at the rush. Yoongi’s length presses against your core, already hard through the confines of his pants. It seems unfathomable that this man, a stranger to you for so long, can inspire such potent emotion.
When you first met him, you were ten, and he was fourteen. You didn’t know who Yoongi was at the time – a fact which now seems unthinkable. Raised in southern Kekon, you came to Janloon after your mother’s death with little understanding of clan politics. Likely, you would have remained so if your high jade tolerance hadn’t pushed your father to enroll you at the Academy.
Walking through the gates that first day, you found nothing but apathy. The best-case scenario was your classmates left you alone. Worst-case, the other children were brutal. You attended school with the sons and daughters of high-ranking clan members. Although your father joined No Peak as a Lantern Man eventually, he could hardly be called successful. The Academy had no patience for a rural girl whose jade tolerance far outstripped their own.
It wore on your classmates’ pride when the teachers praised you. You began to get noticed, and not in a good way. Fed up with your presence, one of the students attacked you at the end of your first year. Even then, you knew how to defend yourself and flipped him on his back. Stunned, he stared up at you before yelling to anyone within earshot that you’d regret this. His father was a powerful Lantern Man of No Peak and he said you’d be banished before graduation.
Fear gripped you, sensing the truth to his words. Based on your own experience, you knew No Peak wouldn’t believe you over one of their own.
Despair filled your thoughts as someone entered the corridor. Your attacker instantly froze, which should have clued you in this was someone important. Still, you refused to look, reticent to turn your back on an opponent.
The newcomer cleared their throat, further stoking your ire. After a moment, you dragged your attention to them.
Min Yoongi stared back, his expression mild. “So,” he said. “Who can tell me what happened?”
Looking him up and down, you chose not to respond. You didn’t trust a stranger – a fourth year at that – to intervene on your behalf. Most likely, Yoongi was a member of No Peak and had only arrived to harass you further.
Seeing your hesitance, your attacker jumped in. He accused you of treachery, saying you jumped him in the corridor and threw him on the ground. Silent, your fingers curled into fists, but you remained quiet, even when Yoongi turned.
“Well?” he asked you. “Is that right?”
Your lips dropped into a scowl. “He deserved what he got.”
Subtle, his brow flicked upward.
To your dismay, you saw people had gathered as whispers broke out. A sinking suspicion occurred to you that something was wrong. Not with your attacker, but whoever this was.
Yoongi stared at you for a long moment before, to your surprise, he chuckled. “I agree.” Turning to face the boy, a dangerous light entered his eye. “I’d suggest not telling your father what happened, Heike. Because then, I might feel honor-bound to confess what I saw. Which was his son ruthlessly attack a first year, lose and then lie about it to his future Pillar.”
Color bled swiftly from Heike’s skin. “Yes, Min-jen,” he whispered, head bowed in shame.
Panic-stricken, you stared as realization sunk in you’d been flippant to the future Pillar. Steeling yourself, you waited for Min Yoongi’s response – likely anger or worse. Based on your experience, most men in power liked this fact to be known.
Instead, Yoongi merely turned and looked you up and down. His gaze traveled you slowly, unreadable in his scrutiny. At last, he glanced up.
“Your father owns the tea shop by the docks, yes?” he said, waiting for you to nod before he continued. “He joined No Peak as a Lantern Man last year.”
“Yes, he did.”
His lips twitched. “Well, then,” Yoongi said as he turned away. “I can’t help but be grateful he chose No Peak to patron. It would’ve been shame to lose you to another clan.”
Stricken, you watched as he strode from the courtyard. Minutes passed, and eventually you realized the crowd had dispersed. Heike skulked off to nurse his wounds and the future Pillar had gone, giving them no reason to stay.
If you weren’t loyal to No Peak before, you certainly were after. Yoongi had that type of effect on people.
After that day though, you rarely interacted. Yoongi was four years your senior and the future Pillar, while you were nobody. Albeit a talented nobody who graduated at the top of their class from the Academy. At your graduation, people whispered you’d make a strong Fist. No one ever imagined you’d rise higher than that.
You joined No Peak as a Finger, starting from the bottom. Yoongi continued to remain out of reach, the newly named Pillar struggling to earn his own title. It didn’t take long though, before you rose in the ranks. You spent two years as a Finger, then two as a Fist – you were twenty-two years old when promoted to Horn. The youngest in history, and a woman to boot.
Yoongi was adamant in the choice, defending you calmly to the entire clan. He said he’d rather have the right person at a young age than the wrong person at the right age. His support was the only reason you didn’t strangle him that first year. It was the beginning of working together and as it turned out, Yoongi drove you mad.
He micromanaged, overseeing all decisions to ensure No Peak ran smoothly. You two bickered often, the fire eventually dissipating to begrudging acceptance. Ultimately, you realized you saw the world the same – No Peak first, followed by everything else.
Back then, Yoongi dated but none of them stuck. No one understood the sacrifice necessary to remain head of No Peak. Couldn’t comprehend the ruthlessness, the dedication it took to lead the clan. Yoongi could never let his guard down, could never relax with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
You understood, though, because you shared this burden. Yoongi could be honest with you in a way he couldn’t be elsewhere. To the rest of the clan, he was the infallible Pillar, but to you, he was only a man.
Proof of said manhood hardens against your thigh, and Yoongi’s lips curve gamely at the base of your throat. Head lifting, his smile is sharp enough to carve the remaining bit of your heart.
“You left early this morning,” he observes, his gaze dimming. “Why?”
Your eyes trace his lips before lifting to his face. “Hian called in sick, so I replaced his watch. My Fists are spread thin, Yoongi.”
A wrinkle forms between his brows. “You should’ve woken me.”
“Why?” you tease, your hand sliding lower to rest above his hip. “To watch me go? You needed your sleep.”
“I needed you more.”
Yoongi’s words still your fingertips, struck by his honesty. Min Yoongi is nothing if not blunt, leaving you often speechless. What began as just sex, mounting frustration between friends, has become something almost too tenuous to name. The idea of having him scares you nearly as much as the prospect of losing him.
“You had me last night,” you murmur.
Yoongi’s fingers drift across your cheek. “And yet,” he says, unwilling to let you off the hook. “I woke up ravenous.”
Multiple meanings layer his words, some of which you purposefully choose not to hear. Instead, you glance past him to search the grounds. Several Green Bones cross the lawn, none of them close enough to overhear. Still, it reminds you of what’s at stake.
Exhaling gently, you pull from his touch. “I should go,” you tell him.
Head tilted, Yoongi’s dark hair conceals the jade in his brow. His brow wrinkles when he Perceives your tumultuous emotions.
“You’re worried,” he says.
“Of course, I am,” you say with a frustrated laugh. “I’m your Horn, Yoongi. It’s my job to protect the clan – to protect you – and right now, it feels like I’m failing.”
His gaze on you sharpens. “First off, I can protect myself. Second – it’s my job as Pillar to protect the clan. How can you protect us from something I can’t see?”
“How many times do I have to say you don’t shoulder that burden alone?”
The lines around his mouth deepen. “In good times, I’m lauded. It only follows that in bad times, I’m the one at fault.”
“Oh, if that’s all,” you say drily. “I, for one, have never lauded you.”
“Oh, really?” Stepping closer, his expression shifts from frustration to carnal. “I seem to recall differently last night.”
Electricity catches each place his gaze lingers, shivering its way down your spine. Refusing to let him notice, you lift your chin higher. “You’d have to remind me. It all blurs together.”
Yoongi bares his teeth, and you can’t help but smile. If there’s one thing the Pillar of No Peak can’t resist, it’s a challenge. The start of your relationship is proof enough of that.
After your promotion to Horn, you spent most waking hours by Yoongi’s side. Working with him was exhausting. Every decision turned into an argument. How many Fists you should have. How many students to admit to the Academy. Whether you should train with the Kekonese military or not.
Yoongi constantly occupied space in your thoughts, and not in a good way. He frustrated you, forcing you to second-guess and slow down your thought process. Maddeningly, he was often correct, which only served to further your irritation.
Eventually, things began to shift. Bickering turned to acceptance and finally, understanding. Yoongi trusted you more often to make the right calls and in turn, you snapped at him less for his input. Your arguments dwindled, then disappeared altogether.
Three years passed as Horn, and soon your frustration gave way to a different kind. You started to notice when Min Yoongi entered the room. At first, you brushed it off as nothing. Yoongi had an undeniable presence, this was true. Soon though, you realized your thoughts breached the border of friendship.
His absence could be felt like a phantom limb. Yoongi’s jade aura comforted you despite its fierceness – so at odds with the calm way he carried himself.
Idly, you wondered what it would take for him to snap. To release his infamous self-control and fully give in. Thoughts of what Yoongi would feel like left your body scorched. On more than one occasion, you awoke with an ache between your legs and a dream of his face slipping away.
Such thoughts though, were dangerous. Yoongi was the Pillar, and you were his Horn – a relationship couldn’t happen and what’s more, he’d shown no interest. You began to withdraw out of self-preservation. Prior, you sparred with Yoongi every morning but soon found yourself making excuses to skip.
What was once daily practice turned into every week and then, once a month. Yoongi was a distraction you could ill-afford, disarming you with his laughter as easily as his sword.
Instead, you forced your attention on training your Fists. Firstday through Fifthday, you met Asha and Jungkook at the gym before dawn. This went on for months, training in secret until one day you exited and saw Yoongi’s car at the curb. Stomach sinking, you watched as he reversed and sped down the street.
Perceiving tumultuous emotion, you knew confrontation was inevitable but hoped Yoongi would give you time to process.
He did not.
Instead, Yoongi pounded on your door the very next morning. When you finally answered, he tossed a practice sword your way and demanded you dress.
Shaking free of your stupor, you glared at Yoongi a moment before slamming the door. Stalking inside, you threw gear in a bag and returned to the hall. Stomping past him, you refused to acknowledge Yoongi, throwing open the door to his Duchesse Priza.
Yoongi sped to his place in silence, tension churning between you like water beneath a ferry. At his gym, you stormed out and ripped the sword from its sheath. Yoongi followed closely behind, barely leashed emotion rolling off him in waves.
You flew at him first, your body Light, and then Strong while swinging towards his head. Moving through the various jade disciplines, you relied on training hammered into your bones. Yoongi caught a blow on his forearm, Steeling his skin to avoid any damage. The two of you entered a familiar rhythm, understanding the other in ways no one else could.
It must’ve been hours before you threw down your sword and declared the match ended. Yoongi simply stared, his chest heaving with a wild spark in his eyes.
You were turning to leave when he dropped his blade, strode across the clearing and crushed your mouth to his.
Five months have passed since. Your relationship has been kept a secret, with you unwilling to place any labels. People would talk if the Horn and Pillar were dating. You don’t want that for yourself. Not when you’ve worked so hard for credibility.
Pressing his thumb to your lower lip, Yoongi drags it lower before he releases. “I’ll have to remind you, then,” he says before stepping away. The heat dissipates from his gaze, leaving you cold. “But you’re right. I should go.”
Somewhat dazed, you feel yourself nod. This is what you wanted, you remind yourself. This is exactly what you asked for, so you have no right to feel abandoned.
“Send me the list Namjoon makes,” you say, forcing lightness to your tone. “I’ll send Green Bones to watch their houses.”
Yoongi opens his mouth, then seems to think better of it and merely nods. He stays silent when you leave, brushing past him to the hall. Outside, you pause on the landing before you continue.
His jade aura fades as you exit, letting you know he remains. You do your best to ignore him, flipping your keys as you stride towards your car – not as nice as Yoongi’s, but serviceable nonetheless. Yanking open the door, you slide onto the sticky-warm gray leather seat.
Exhaling, you stare at the wheel before shifting to drive. Lowering the windows, you allow a slight breeze to drift over your face. As much as you pretend to be happy with the current situation, you’re not. You aren’t stupid – you know your feelings for Yoongi extend beyond those of a Horn to their Pillar.
When you first became Horn, you respected Yoongi. He was a good leader – still is – and you were proud to be the person strengthening No Peak by his side. Now, he’s the closest thing you have to family. Deep down, you understand his pardon of Yejun. If you were in a similar situation, there’s nothing Yoongi could do that you wouldn’t forgive.
Especially now, with your father dead. It happened soon after graduation, a sudden collapse of his heart no one saw coming. Yoongi attended his funeral. It was held on a rain soaked Seventhday after the Autumn Festival. Late in the season for a deluge but fitting for the occasion. It felt like the world was wiped clean, along with your prior life.
For the Pillar to attend was unusual, but not unprecedented. You recall him standing near the back, his Pillarman, Hoseok, at his side. The funeral was short – your father wasn’t garrulous by any means – but rain soaked your dress by the time it had ended. It surprised you when Yoongi came to express his sorrow, even more so when he seemed to mean it. Most people didn’t. Most people came for the spectacle, or to say they were there.
Yoongi though, gripped your hand tightly while meeting your gaze. His calluses were as rough as your own when he said the clan would support you. Oddly enough, you believed him.
With both parents dead, and no siblings, No Peak is the only family you have. Yoongi’s life is similar to yours, apart from Yejun. His father died of cancer when he was twenty-one and his mother soon followed, unable to cope. Yoongi knows what loss means, what it feels like to be alone.
Lips tightening, you imagine what it’d feel like to lose him. Worse than a Horn should feel when they lose a Pillar. Silent, you curse yourself for having poor foresight. There’s a reason the Horn and Pillar don’t date. A reason why such a relationship would be forbidden. It’s your job to protect the clan – not just Yoongi – but if it came down to it, you’d choose him every time.
Weaving through the bustling streets of Janloon, your speed is forced to slow. Janloon, the capital city of Kekon, is full of contractions. The latest car models pass beneath flashing billboards, coupled with street stalls and sprawling temples. Scents of the city mingle with stale AC from your car.
No matter how much time passes, Kekon stubbornly clings to its roots. Portions of the outside world may infiltrate, but they’ll never replace. This is something Green Bones and the clans understand.
Traffic forces you to park a block away from your destination. Striding towards the Twice Lucky, you nod at a few Lantern Men idling outside. Asha and Jungkook wait for you in a private room, lounging in seats around the square table. The second floor of the Twice Lucky has been reserved for Green Bones; a privilege No Peak ensures is well-compensated.
Jungkook sits in his usual spot, arms crossed and feet up. Asha is restless, fingertips drumming against the hilt of her blade. Food and water are laid out, half-eaten as though there were others here before.
Sensing your presence, your first Fist looks up. “Y/N-jen.” Asha straightens. “Any news?”
Crossing the room, you scan the building but Perceive no other Green Bones. Sinking into a chair, you pull a plate closer and pick up red chopsticks.
Jungkook turns towards you. “What’d you discuss with the Pillar? Seemed important.”
Asha gives him a warning look, to which he only shrugs.
Ignoring them both, you stab a dumpling. “We suspect the killings were done by a Green Bone. Do you remember Toh Marosun?”
Asha’s head whips in your direction. Jungkook was at the Academy during Maro’s betrayal, but Asha was there and remembers how it went down. If Maro has returned, it’s only a matter of time before things get worse.
“Of course, we remember.” Her eyes narrow. “So, it’s really him? Maro came back?”
“Maybe.” You hesitate another moment, then finish the dumpling. “It’s only a guess.”
“A pretty good guess, if you’re telling us,” Jungkook muses. “Why come back now, though? Returning to Kekon is a death sentence.”
“Is it?” Asha fights a smirk. “Everyone knew Yejun had a thing for Maro.”
Casual, you retrieve a talon knife from its sheath. You begin cleaning the blade, the weapon a natural extension of your wrist, and feel Asha and Jungkook’s gazes follow.
“I don’t think that’s relevant, do you?” you say calmly. “Not unless you’re questioning the Pillar’s judgement.”
Asha looks away, miffed. “No, jen,” she mutters. “Of course, not.”
“Good.” You pause, allowing your fury to seep into your aura. “The Pillar deserves nothing less than your respect. Which means Jungkook is right – coming back here is a death sentence, begging the question of why.”
Jungkook considers. “Maybe he left something.”
Asha turns back, the moment of tension forgotten. “He could be after his jade,” she offers. “Maro was always thin-blooded, so if it’s jade he wants, this could get bad. He could come down with the Itches.”
Sheathing your knife, you look up. “I agree. Maro might not be in his right mind.”
“What should we do?” 
“Nothing for now,” you tell her. “Namjoon is compiling a list of people Maro knew. If he hasn’t found what he’s after by now, he could strike again.”
Asha nods and accepts this. Pushing aside a twinge of regret, you wish you could explain the rest. If Yoongi is a target though, it’s best to keep that fact quiet. And as much as you’d like to blame the Luckbringers, you have no way of knowing who’s helping Maro – either by will or by force.
A phone rings on the lower level, barely audible over the din. The Twice Lucky restaurant doesn’t have the best food in Janloon, but the quality is good, and its owner is loyal. The same can’t be said for other places.
Footsteps pound on the staircase, and Jungkook springs to his feet. Before you can warn him, the door opens and Mr. Une, the proprietor, freezes in place.
“Put that away,” you demand, waving for Jungkook to lower his knife.
Eyes wide, Mr. Une stares while your Second Fist sheaths his weapon. Seating himself at the table, Jungkook kicks both feet up like nothing has happened. The third-highest amount of jade in the clan lies coiled about his neck, polished stones resting against his tan skin.
Mr. Une continues to stare, wary until you pointedly clear your throat. “Uncle,” you say, adopting the deferential. “What can we do for you?”
Somewhat placated, Mr. Une turns his head. “Phone call for you, Horn-jen. The Weather Man said it’s urgent. You can use the phone in my office if you’d like.”
Smile disappearing, you stand. “Lead the way.”
Mr. Une blinks, and you realize you’ve crossed the room in less time than it took Jungkook to draw his knife. Inwardly, you sigh and attempt to appear harmless. The citizens of Janloon are used to living with Green Bones but sometimes, your power is a reminder of what they are not. Of the inherent danger of living amongst latent gods.
Following Mr. Une, you head towards his office. Asha and Jungkook walk close behind, with Jungkook at the rear and Asha by your side. Mr. Une hovers awkwardly at the door before turning around and pushing into the kitchen.
Once he’s gone, you lift the phone. “Hello?” you say.
Namjoon’s voice barks in your ear. “Get back to the Min property. Now.”
Your stomach drops. “What happened?”
“Maro struck again,” he says tightly. “It’s definitely Maro – and the victim is still alive.”
“Who is it?” you ask, expecting the worst.
“Jio Reubin. He managed to escape and made it here, but he’s injured. This is our best chance to get information.”
“On my way,” you say, and hang up.
Taking a deep breath, you allow the reality of Namjoon’s words to wash over you. Jio is hurt, meaning you need to interrogate soon in case he dies. Nausea curdles your stomach, and you try to dispel it.
Guilt wars with relief from knowing Yoongi is safe. You’ve met Jio several times, having attended the Academy with his now-wife, Lula. She never took to the bloodier side of the clan, deciding to enter the medical profession instead. If you remember correctly, she’s in the same resident program as Yejun.
Leaving the office, you nod for Jungkook to follow. He falls into step beside you. “I need you to do something for me,” you say to Asha. “Head to Jio Reubin’s and search the area for Maro. Call me if you find anything.”
She nods and turns, disappearing out the side door.
You and Jungkook exit the front, squinting when you emerge in the golden hour. “Follow me to the Min property,” you say grimly.
Jungkook nods as he turns, aura pulsing with adrenaline while growing fainter. You should warn him to be cautious but know it’d be hypocritical. Your own car’s speed is nearly twice the limit as you rush through the streets of Janloon, returning to the gates of the Min property.
Screeching to a halt, you yank keys from the ignition and sprint across the courtyard. Namjoon’s aura pulses from the main house, so you follow the trail and shove open the door.
Namjoon doesn’t look up when you enter, and you immediately see why. Jio lies splayed on the sofa, right arm dangling listlessly from a red cushion. At first, you think that’s the color before you notice the blood darkening Jio’s chest.
Kneeling at his side, Namjoon’s jaw clenches while attempting to Channel. Usually, Channeling is used to rend the body apart but in certain circumstances, it can be used to hold it together. Namjoon doesn’t wear much jade though and wasn’t trained as a healer.
“Allow me,” Jungkook says from behind you.
Dropping to his knees, he replaces Namjoon to clasp Jio’s hand in his. Closing his eyes, a thick vein pulses in the side of his neck. Despite Jungkook’s wish to enter the bloodier side of the clan, he would’ve made an excellent healer. His ability to Channel is better than anyone else in No Peak.
Jio’s aura, previously guttering, gradually smooths. Namjoon sits back on his heels, clearly spent from the effort. Wiping sweat from his brow, he turns to see you.
“Close the door,” he says faintly.
Reaching out, you obey and cross to stand by his side. Staring at Jio, you take in his bloodied state. Whoever tortured him was thorough, cutting just deep enough to let him slowly bleed out.
It’s a miracle Jio escaped, no matter how slowly his chest rises and falls. When you cross your arms, he coughs and cracks open one eye. Dazedly, Jio registers your presence.
“Horn-jen,” he rasps.
Briskly, you nod. “You’re going to be fine, Jio.”
Straining Perception, you sweep the ground for Yoongi but find him far away. Good. The further he is from this carnage, the better.
Glancing back, you seek Namjoon. “What happened?”
“Maro was waiting when Jio got home from his night shift. His wife had already left for the hospital. Maro knocked out Jio, tied him up and when he came to, started torturing him for intel. Jio managed to escape but hasn’t said how. Couple of Fingers found him in the Temple District.”
Your gaze moves to Jio. “Maro escaped?”
“Yeah,” he responds.
Stomach tight, you consider the options. Either Maro is still searching for whatever he’s after, or he found out from Jio and –
From across the property comes a surge of fury. No one else seems to notice, but that doesn’t surprise you. You’re more attuned to Yoongi’s aura than anyone present. Keeping your expression neutral, you know you don’t have much time until Yoongi arrives.
“What did he want to know?” you demand. “Did he –”
The door to the room flies open and hits the wall. The Pillar strides in, adjusting his cuffs as he goes. Yoongi’s dark hair is slicked, clothing immaculate as always. Heat curls in your lower belly, and you do your best to stamp it out.
His gaze flicks towards you, sensing your need before his expression shutters. Facing forward, Yoongi surveys the scene.
“What happened?” he asks, low and deadly.
His Pillarman steps inside and shuts the door. Hoseok leans to the wall, jacket falling open to reveal the handle of his Sig Sauer. It’s odd for a Green Bone to carry a gun but Hoseok’s job is to protect Yoongi from all threats. Although Green Bone warriors render bullets obsolete through Steeling, there are other threats best deterred by firepower.
On the couch, Jio coughs and attempts to sit up. Grunting, Jungkook grabs his shoulder and forces him down.
“Don’t be an idiot,” you say to Jio. “The doctor is coming, but if you die before they get here, you’ll be no help to anyone.”
“Are you sure it was Maro?” Yoongi asks, tension radiating from every line in his body. Even if you couldn’t Perceive him, you’d know.
Weakly, Jio nods. “It was Maro. Looks different now – leaner and wearing new jade. Scabs up and down his arms. But yeah, it was him.”
You and Namjoon exchange a look. Arm scabs could be a sign of the Itches, an illness caused by jade overexposure. Jade overexposure can happen gradually, or it could be caused by a single instance. For example, if someone were to go without jade for years and then put a lot on.
Green Bones are taught the symptoms from a young age. Severe mood swings, sensory distortion – shaking, sweating, anxiety, paranoia, and heart palpitations. When left untreated, the Itches can lead to madness and eventually, death. Better soldiers than Maro have succumbed to it, the lure of more jade greater than self-control.
The possibility flashes before you – Maro, unable to stomach being cut off from Kekon. He seeks out new jade, expecting to stomach as much as he used to. Instead, Maro breaks, paranoia and fear dragging him under. He starts to blame others, including the clan who took everything from him. A man in such a state might consider revenge his only option.
The hypothesis fits, though it means nothing good for No Peak.
“What did he say?” Yoongi asks. “Tell us, word for word.”
“He…” Jio breaks into a coughing fit. “Knocked me out. When I woke up, I was tied to my kitchen chair. I asked Maro what the fuck he was doing.”
“And?” Namjoon prods. “What did he say?”
“Said he’d been gone for too long. That it was all a mistake – leaving, taking off his jade.”
“Is that why he came back?” you press.
Jio’s head lolls. “He asked who betrayed him. Said he only told a few people about the smuggling, so one of them must’ve done it. I didn’t know,” he rasps, shaking his head. “I wasn’t one of the people Maro told. He didn’t seem to remember – or care.”
Paranoia. Another unmistakable sign of the Itches.
“What else?” Namjoon asks. “How did you escape?”
“I don’t know.” Jio frowns, blood trickling from a cut above his eye. “Maro seemed confused. He kept asking who betrayed him, and then mentioning treasure? He wanted to know where his treasure was. I don’t even know what he meant,” he admits, glancing between you and Namjoon. “His jade? I dunno.”
“It could be,” you say slowly.
“He’d ask about his treasure one minute, then accuse it of betraying him,” Jio says. “He said he went where his treasure was, but it wasn’t there. Or they weren’t there? He kept mixing up tenses. Wasn’t sure he knew where he was, half the time.”
Off to the side, you feel a sudden surge of emotion – there and gone before you can dissect. Startled, you glance in the direction of Yoongi but find him unharmed. Eyes narrowed, you watch a moment longer before you turn back.
“If Maro wants his old jade, maybe he meant his apartment. He could have gone there to search first,” Namjoon offers.
“A waste,” you say with a frown. “Maro forfeited his jade to the clan before leaving.”
Forfeited to the Pillar, more accurately. You glance once more at Yoongi, who doesn’t react. He continues to examine Jio, a slight wrinkle between his brows.
“All roads lead to me, it would seem. How did you escape, Jio?” Yoongi adds, casually changing the subject.
“Didn’t, really.” Jio coughs, the sound wet. “Managed to get an arm free, lunged for Maro and fell on the floor. Maro… didn’t really notice. He swore something fierce, stabbed my fridge with his knife and ran off.”
You stare at him in disbelief. “He stabbed your… fridge?”
“Yeah.”
“That makes no sense.”
“If he has the Itches, it doesn’t have to,” Namjoon murmurs.
“True,” you say.
This feels important though, in a way you can’t pinpoint. Maro didn’t have any trouble killing before – the only reason he’d leave was if he found what he wanted. Frustration gnaws at your thoughts, certain you’re missing something.
Outside, you hear someone enter the driveway. Gravel skitters beneath tires, the car coming to a stop as someone exits.
“That must be the doctor.” Yoongi turns around, seemingly lost in thought. “I’ll go let them in.”
Pulling open the door, he exits with Hoseok. You watch them leave, returning your attention to Jio.
Looking weary, Jungkook sits back on his heels. “I’ve done what I can,” he says. “Stopped most of the internal bleeding. He should live.”
The door behind you opens. “I’ll be the judge of that,” says an unfamiliar woman, striding in. Setting down a black bag, she looks around. “Anyone without medical training should leave. Now.”
Brows raised, you obey and take your leave. In the hallway, Jungkook mutters something about readying the car and disappears. You remain in the house, pacing and waiting for Yoongi’s return.
Namjoon’s eyes follow your tread. “What are you thinking?”
Shaking your head, you stop to examine a portrait of Yoongi’s father. “I don’t know,” you admit. “Something about this feels off. Why would Maro leave so abruptly?”
“He wouldn’t,” Namjoon muses. “Not unless he found what he was looking for.”
“Maybe Jio is lying. Maybe he told Maro it was Yoongi who betrayed him. If that’s so though, why wouldn’t Maro come directly here?”
“Here?” Namjoon scoffs. “It’d be suicide to attack the Pillar in his own compound. No way – Maro is smarter. If I were him, I’d set a trap. Draw the Pillar out.”
A terrible suspicion dawns as you freeze, mid-stride. This is the moment the landline rings and, crossing the hallway, you yank down the phone.
“Hello?” you answer.
Asha’s voice fills your ears. “Y/N? Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me,” you say, turning around. “What’s wrong?”
“I have… well, I don’t know what I have.”
“What do you mean?” you press. “What’s wrong?”
Noticing your expression, Namjoon frowns and pushes himself from the wall.
“I went to Jio’s like you asked. There was no sign of Maro, so I went back to the house and… it’s strange. Maro tied Jio up in his kitchen, and there are signs of a struggle, but…”
“But what, Asha?”
She pauses. “Did Jio tell you what happened?”
“Yeah.” Your gaze flicks to Namjoon, who listens to every word. “He said Maro swore, stabbed a fridge and ran off.”
“Oh. Okay.” Asha exhales. “I was worried you’d think I’m crazy. The thing is, Maro didn’t just stab a fridge – he stabbed a photo. A person, to be exact.”
“… Who was the person he stabbed?”
Namjoon goes still, and your grip on the phone tightens. Pieces of the puzzle slide into place, leaving a picture which turns your stomach. Dread fills you, knowing what Asha will say before she says it.
“Yejun,” she says, and a loud ringing fills your ears. “She works at the same hospital as Jio’s wife, and there’s a photo of them at some ceremony. The knife… it’s straight through Yejun’s head.”
Heart pounding, you close your eyes and frantically sweep the grounds. Deep down though, you already know what you’ll find.
Yoongi is gone.
Fury boiling over, you realize this was the epiphany Yoongi had earlier. It must have something to do with the word treasure – likely a nickname between Yejun and Maro. Maro was looking for Yejun, not his jade or revenge. Or maybe it is revenge – stomach sinking, you realize what this must seem like. Maro told Yejun about his operation and soon after, Yoongi found out.
Maro wants Yejun, which is something you should’ve seen from the beginning. Yoongi realized before you and now, he’s run off to play hero.
“Stay here,” you say, turning to Namjoon. Feverish anger burns your blood. “Get Jio to the hospital once he’s stable. Thanks, Asha,” you say before hanging up.
Namjoon’s eyes narrow. “Yoongi went after Yejun, didn’t he?”
“Maybe,” you say, pushing past. “If he did, I’ll find him.”
You don’t remember reaching your car, only that once you do, you drive faster than you ever have through Janloon. The hospital is a logical starting point since that’s what Maro saw from the photo.
Shutting down your thoughts, you continue to weave through traffic. Thinking begets worry, which can lead to mistakes. Tightening your grip, you push the car faster. Roaring down the next street, you recall Yejun is working early shifts this week. She mentioned it the other day, saying how glad she was to be home in time for dinner.
Glancing at the clock, your jaw tightens. After a moment’s hesitation, you make a sharp turn, car skidding a little on the next street. If Yejun is already home, better to first check that she’s safe.
Yoongi’s sister lives near the hospital, an allowance granted with the understanding that your men keep tabs. While it’s unlikely Maro knows her home address, he could have followed her there from the hospital.
Parking swiftly, you leap from the car and sprint inside. Someone on the street protests, all bravado disappearing when they notice your jade. You skid to a stop in the lobby, zeroing in on the doorman.
“Floor ten,” you say flatly.
Open-mouthed, the man stares. When you start to move forward, he snaps to attention. “Elevator is out,” he blurts. “You’ll have to take the stairs, like the rest.”
The rest.
Teeth gritted, you pivot and take the steps three at a time. The climb upward is steep, and you use a burst of Strength to reach the top. Shoving open the door to floor ten, you come to a sudden halt.
Chaos greets you.
The hall before you is narrow, barely two meters in width. Yoongi and Maro face each other midway, moon blades drawn and locked in combat. Lunging, Maro’s blade slices Yoongi’s shoulder and blood splatters the floor. Hissing, Yoongi doubles his Strength to kick Maro in the chest, sending him flying.
Maro slams into a window, glass raining around him. Rolling Light, Maro jumps to face Yoongi, unscathed. Stomach sinking, you notice the amount of jade Maro carries. More than he ever had while part of the clan. Clearly, Maro is past the point of caring about things like the Itches.
His aura feels wrong where it touches yours, jagged and pulsing. Leaping and whirling with unknown motive, withdrawing to expand in nonsensical patterns.
Face contorted, Maro unleashes a series of blows which nearly has Yoongi buckling. Clearly, Maro has continued training in exile. He looks similar and yet different – his hair longer, beard unkempt to hide the scar on his cheek. His body is lean, that of a wild wolf after winter who fights more desperately because of it.
Steeling himself, you feel Yoongi pull his aura inward, readying for the next blow. Maro slips beneath Yoongi’s blade and slashes – and Yoongi releases, Channeling his energy outward in a deadly wave. The invisible strike hits Maro dead-on, making him stumble.
Gaze bright, Maro’s head whips upward. Sensing murderous intent, a growl slips from your throat as you rush in. Swifter than breath, you wrench knives from your belt, thrusting them upward to catch Maro’s blade.
He shudders to a halt, teeth bared in your face.
Yoongi skids to a stop beside you, disbelief warring with his panic.
“GO!” you yell, glancing at Yejun’s door. “Now!”
Yoongi hesitates before nodding, lowering his sword to dart inside. Maro seethes when he escapes, shoving with all his weight to send you backwards. Dropping into a crouch, you brace yourself with one hand and kick outward. Maro leaps to avoid the blow, landing Light with a fierce glint in his eye.
Bright studs of jade – some red and oozing – dot his chest, clearly done in haste. Maro doesn’t seem to feel pain as he walks towards you.
 “You?” he taunts, half-laughing. “You’d barely graduated when I was chosen for Horn. Must be nice,” he muses. “A reward for fucking the boss.”
Biting your lower lip, you hold back your retort. When you do this, Maro smiles, lips pulled from his teeth.
Before he can speak, you lunge forward and Channel. Energy jabs Maro’s chest – enough to stun, but not kill. Grunting, Maro’s smile disappears as he Deflects. Bringing his sword down overhead, he leaves no room to dodge. Swiftly, you Steel and hope for the best.
Maro’s blade slams against skin, though he fails to draw blood. Springing forward, you strike hard enough to rend his shirt’s fabric. Pulling back, Maro seethes.
Your next series of blows are fueled by Strength, fast enough to elude normal vision. You rely on muscle memory and Perception, countering each of Maro’s strokes with your own. He’s not as fast as you are, but his additional jade gives him an edge.
His next Channel is clumsy but strong, enough to leave you winded and miss his next blow. You don’t Steel in time, his blade catching your jacket to cut your torso. Hissing, you stumble and press a hand to the wound.
The cut feels shallow but stings, nonetheless. Fury building, you hone your Perception to a narrow cone. Maro’s aura ebbs and flows, erratically bursting as he walks towards you.
“I don’t know why you’re bothering to fight,” he says, adjusting his grip on his sword. “If anything, you should join me, Y/N – I’m your future.”
Refusing to let him continue, you rush forward and exchange a flurry of blows that end in a stalemate.
Panting, Maro withdraws. “You have to understand I loved her,” he hisses. “I loved her, and she betrayed me. She deserves to die.”
“Who did?” you ask, although you already know.
Behind Maro, you see Yoongi rush from Yejun’s apartment. He holds her, unconscious, Yejun’s aura silent without jade ability. Fervent, you wish you could gauge her vitality. As it is, all you can do is buy them time to get help.
Sinking into a crouch, you draw Maro’s gaze. 
“Yejun?” you prod.
“Yes,” Maro breathes, his gaze bright. “I trusted her, and she turned me in. Do you know what I thought about every day while in Shotar? Her. Do you know what she thought about? The clan,” he spits. “He’ll betray you, too, in the end – you’ll see. Killing them both now would be a mercy.”
“Yejun didn’t betray you,” you say to buy time. “She wasn’t the one who told Yoongi – he found out on his own.”
Maro blinks, his surprise evident for a moment before vanishing under fury. “That’s just as bad,” he snaps, his voice rising. “Yoongi and I were like brothers. Under aisho, doesn’t family come first?”
“Even family is bound by honor,” you say grimly. “Should I ever be disloyal to my brother, may I die by the blade,” you add, reciting the Green Bone oaths. “I won’t join you, Toh Marosun. Take me by force if you must.”
His nostrils flare but before he can act, you rush in. Dimly, you register Yoongi’s retreating aura and hope he’s managed to escape the building. Lightness and Strength blur as you move, Maro’s Deflection flung hastily forward.
You keep your blows unpredictable, swift enough that Maro struggles. Rage cloaks your intention as you whirl and slice in erratic patterns. Sweat beads on Maro’s forehead, Steeling wrongly for your knives to draw blood.
Sensing victory, you push harder. Gathering his energy inward, Maro lashes out suddenly in a Channel you barely Deflect. Energy rips through you, searing your bones in a silent attack. Wincing, you leap back and Channel a blow. Maro stumbles, barely shielding and you recognize a flaw.
There are few Green Bones in Shotar, which must make it difficult for him to practice Deflection. Pressing the advantage, you move forward in a quick flurry of blows. Although Maro’s sword is larger, your knives gain the advantage in the small space. He can’t move when you duck underneath, stabbing upward to pierce his soft underarm.
Howling, Maro whirls and swings at you rashly. Leaning backwards, you Steel and catch the blow on your forearm. Vibrations clang through you, rattling the teeth in your skull. The two of you lock together, Maro’s energy clashing with yours. When he doubles his Strength, you feel your Steel buckle.
Lips split in a grin, Maro keeps his sword steady. Further increasing his Strength, he’s focused on winning he doesn’t notice the shift in your aura.
Dropping your Steel, you draw everything inward and let his sword slice your arm. Maro’s laugh is manic – until you Channel outward. The last of your energy shatters his Deflection, piercing inner organs with deadly precision. You feel the moment Maro’s heart stops, his arteries rupturing from the inside out.
Forgoing any mercy, your knife slashes his throat in a clean line.
Blood mists from the wound, coating the wall behind you in red. With a gurgled gasp, Maro lifts a hand – only to go limp and fall, face-first on the floor.
Silence descends, broken only by your ragged breathing. Not far off, sirens wail, and you sense Green Bone auras closing in on the building. Eyes closed, you force yourself to breathe in and out.
No matter how often you do it, killing another person never gets easier. Even when necessary. Even when said person threatens your life and others. You fortify yourself with the knowledge that Yoongi is safe, and Yejun will live – she has to.
The cost to your soul is too high for anything else.
“Is he dead?” asks someone behind you.
Swiftly, you turn as you open your eyes. You were so focused inward, you failed to notice Yoongi’s aura approach. The Pillar’s gaze snags, stopping on the man before you.
“Yes,” you say, bending to clean your knives. Heart hammering, you wonder what Yoongi feels at seeing his former friend dead. Wonder if he’ll blame you, as Maro said.
Setting your jaw, you sheath both your knives before standing. Immediately, you see you needn’t have worried. Yoongi isn’t looking at Maro, but at you. A lone muscle tics in his jaw, observing the crimson blood staining your clothes.
“The police are on their way. They’ll clean up the scene. You’re hurt,” Yoongi adds, his voice thick.
You glance down at your arm. “It’s nothing.”
Bending again, you begin to gather Maro’s jade. You’ll be expected to wear it the next time you’re in public, but right now, the touch of it is nearly overwhelming. Minor wounds and injuries pulse with each movement, already healing from your current jade.
“I’ll take it.” Yoongi suddenly is beside you, right hand extended. “Let me help.”
Relinquishing some of the jade piercings, you slide the rest in your pockets and push yourself to stand. Turning to face him, you stride down the hall. A roiling ball of emotion settles deep in your gut.
Worry about Yejun. Fury at Yoongi’s lies. Relief, that he’s here and unharmed.
Entering the stairwell, the door hits the wall with a satisfying thud. Yoongi follows closely, wisely choosing to remain silent. Two stories lower, you find the words to speak.
“Is Yejun okay?” you ask.
You feel Yoongi’s gaze on the back of your neck. “She’ll live,” he says, sounding weary. “I left her at the hospital with Namjoon and Jiro. She has a concussion. Maro got here a few minutes before I did and had already roughed her up.”
Something about this snaps the hold on your fragile self-control. Picturing what might have happened had you arrived a few seconds later, you whirl around and grasp Yoongi by his suit jacket.
“Never,” you blurt, yanking him closer. “Never do that to me again.”
Gaze burning, you stare him down and Yoongi watches warily. He doesn’t move an inch, allowing you to manhandle him. “I know that you’re angry,” he says carefully.
With a harsh laugh, you release him. “Of course, I am! You shouldn’t have come here alone.”
“I know that.”
“Well?” you demand after a long moment passes. “Aren’t you going to apologize?”
Yoongi lifts a brow. “I’d do it again.”
You stare at him, aghast. “Well, then.” You pause. Shake your head. “If that’s all you have to say, I think this night is over.”
Wiping your palms on your pants, you turn away. You only make it one flight before Yoongi’s hand finds your elbow.
Spinning you towards him, Yoongi pulls you closer. You manage to avoid eye contact until his fingers slip beneath your chin, making you face him.
“I know you want me to apologize, but I won’t,” he says lowly. “I refuse to apologize for trying to keep you from danger.”
Most people would swoon, hearing this from their lover but you aren’t most people. You’re the Horn of No Peak, sworn to protect the clan – and Yoongi – from any threats.
Your gaze narrows on his. “That’s a problem, then. I’m your Horn, Yoongi. It’s my duty to protect No Peak – to protect you. The Pillar is the spine of this clan and, once severed, No Peak can’t survive. It can survive without me, though.”
Yoongi’s nostrils flare. “And what about me?” he asks. “If you don’t survive, how do you expect me to continue?”
You go still. “Yoongi… I…”
“And for that matter,” he adds, his hand on your chin sliding to the back of your neck. “If you’re so intent on following the rules, who are you to give me orders? I’ll fight to protect the clan if I want to, Y/N.”
Fury expands from the spark in your chest. “You didn’t make me your Horn to follow you blindly,” you seethe.
“No.” His gaze softens. “I did not.”
You stare at each other for a long moment, each passing second draining some of your fire. You’re left with smoke on your tongue, a heaviness in your heart and the ever-growing certainty the time for rule-following has passed.
“You… can’t think like that,” you say eventually.
Yoongi’s brow sketches upward. “Like what?”
“Like I’m worth more than the clan. More than you, as it’s Pillar. That’s dangerous precedent.”
“I don’t care.”
“Well, I do,” you say, frustrated by his nonchalance. “The clan is my blood, and the Pillar is its master,” you add, reciting your oaths again. “You are the Pillar. Your life is that of the clan.”
Yoongi’s lips twist with displeasure. “It seems we’re at an impasse, since I refuse to place my life before yours.”
“Yoongi,” you snap, exasperated. “You can’t just… just –”
“Just what?” His eyes blaze. “Love you?”
“Yes,” you whisper, voice breaking.
Something in his face gentles. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”
Perceiving this truth, the last bit of fight drains from your body. Sensing it, Yoongi draws you closer and pulls you against him. Eyes shutting, you lean into his chest. Yoongi’s aura swallows you whole, an oasis of calm against the onslaught of night.
His breath warms your ear. “It was my problem to fix,” Yoongi murmurs, sounding reticent. “She… Yejun didn’t betray Maro, but she was going to – that’s how I found out. She was writing a letter to me on her kitchen table. I walked in and saw it.”
Lifting your head, you regard him. “You don’t have to explain to me why you spared your sister. I understand.”
“Thank you. You should know, though,” he adds, his voice fierce, “I will do anything to keep those I love from harm.”
You can’t help but smile, though it quickly fades. “I know you would, Yoongi. That’s a burden you can’t carry alone, though. It makes you weaker, not stronger.”
“This was my fault, though,” he says. “Not yours – nor anyone else from the clan. It was my decision to let Maro go free.”
“You aren’t responsible for Maro’s actions. And it’s not weakness to show mercy.”
A muscle jumps in his jaw.
“It’s not,” you press on. “Who’s to say what the right choice was? If you’d killed Maro back then, maybe something worse would’ve happened. Yejun might not have forgiven you. It’s impossible to rewrite the past, and you’ll go mad if you try.”
Yoongi looks away, unconvinced. “What type of Pillar does that make me, though?”
“One who hesitates before killing their friends.”
“One who balks at making tough decisions.”
“Min Yoongi.” Steel layers your voice and you reach up, turning his face to yours. “I would never swear oaths to someone who killed without question. Who made decisions in anger, then regretted them later. You question me when you question yourself.”
His gaze roams your face. “And what if others betray me?” Yoongi murmurs, voice lower. “Would you continue to support me if I was forced to kill Asha? Or Jungkook?”
“I’d trust you did what had to be done.”
“And what if I become corrupt?” he murmurs, his gaze flicking lower. “What if I’m the one being selfish, betraying the clan?”
“Well, that’s easy.” Reaching lower, you wrap a hand around the hilt of his blade. “I’ll kill you myself.”
Not looking away, Yoongi’s hand covers yours. “You could try,” he murmurs, some of his tension dissipated.
“Oh, I think I’d succeed.”
Releasing your hand, Yoongi finds your knee and hitches your leg against him. “If it came to that,” he murmurs, nose skimming your throat, “I’d let you.”
Inhaling softly, you close your eyes. “Promise me one thing.”
“Anything.”
Perceiving the truth to his words, you open your eyes. Yoongi stares back, letting you see the starkness in his gaze. It’s no small thing for the most powerful man in Kekon to promise you anything.
Similarly, it’s no small thing to admit he holds your heart in both hands. Which is why you need to say what you do next. Without Yoongi’s next promise, this can’t go any further.
“Don’t make these decisions without me,” you whisper. “Let me decide for myself when a job is too dangerous.”
Yoongi’s lips flatten. “You give me an impossible choice, since nothing is too dangerous for my lovely Horn.”
“Trust that I love you, then,” you say, your hand trembling as you rise to cup his face. “And that I’ll do what it takes to come back.”
Yoongi goes still at your declaration. His pupils dilate so far, they seem to swallow the light. Four years, you’ve spent fighting together. Five months of knowing him this way, and never have you uttered those words to his face.
The transformation is quick, his expression shifting to desire in barely a breath. Bending, Yoongi drags your mouth to his. “Say it again,” he growls against your lips. “Tell me you love me.”
“You’ll become greedy,” you say, breathless.
“I’m the Pillar of No Peak.” He gives a half-laugh. “I will always want more.”
“Then, take it.”
Opening your mouth, Yoongi walks you backwards until your spine hits the wall. You lose yourself in his touch, his taste, the fatal heat of his body. Fingers tangling in hair, you’re rewarded by the basest of groans from his lips. Yoongi’s hands find your body, grasping and searching to pull you against him.
Far below, the faint pulse of jade auras brush yours. “Yoongi,” you moan, nipping his lower lip. “We should go.”
Pulling away, his thumbs indent your hips. “Go where?”
“Your place. My place. I don’t care.”
“I do,” he says with a grin. “Want to wake up with you in my bed.”
You can’t help but laugh. “You’re so needy.”
“I am.” His lips curve. “I need many things, Y/N. You in my bed. Eventually, in my house. Your vows exchanged for mine. But first” – his brow lifts – “I need to fuck you. Need to bury myself inside you.”
Lips parting, you attempt to digest this information. Everything Min Yoongi has laid on the line. The last sentence catches your attention though, heat curling in your belly and replacing all sentient thought. The rest can come later – first, you need him inside you.
“Let’s go,” you declare, pushing yourself from the wall.
He chuckles, low in his throat as he follows your lead. Halfway down, Yoongi’s arm finds your waist to pull you against him. His teeth scrape the skin beneath your ear, pausing to nip the highest jade hoop.
“Where will you put your new jade?” he muses, pressing his erection to you from behind. “You’re running out of places on your body.”
“I’ll think of something,” you murmur, Yoongi’s tongue on your neck proving extremely distracting. “Wrist cuffs might be nice.”
“If you wanted to be cuffed” – his voice dips – “all you had to do was ask.”
“That is not what I was referring to,” you say, although a shiver traces your spine.
“Pity.”
A second before exiting the stairwell, Yoongi releases you and takes a step back. You ignore the disappointment this brings, forcing your expression to neutral. Already, police cars are arriving to hold back the crowds.
From across the lobby, you spot Asha and Hoseok in deep conversation with uniformed officers. Moving towards them, you’re surprised when Yoongi takes you by the elbow.
“I ran into Hoseok in the lobby,” he says, steering you sideways. “He and Asha will clean up and meet us back home.”
Hoseok nods when you pass, his jaw tight in a way that implies displeasure. Swallowing laughter, you push open the door and immediately, your smile vanishes. Many people have gathered, huddled in groups around the yellow caution tape.
Catching sight of your reflection, you stifle a groan. You look terrible – sweat and blood mar your forehead, the rips in your jacket showing your wounds. Before anything between you and Yoongi can happen, you need a hot shower.
“The situation’s been handled,” Yoongi says to the crowd, pulling you towards the car. “Green Bones are searching the area for remaining danger – you should be able to enter the building soon. No Peak will compensate for damages.”
With that, he opens the car door and watches you enter. Expressions shift in the crowd, a wave of relief washing over the people. Yoongi joins you in the backseat, leaning forward to instruct the driver to go.
The car rumbles from the curb, its speed slow to avoid the pedestrians in your path. Grateful for the tinted windows, you lean sideways and rest your head against the cool glass.
In the reflection, you watch Yoongi retrieve his car phone. “Namjoon?” he says after a moment. “It’s done – Maro is dead. How’s Yejun?”
Namjoon’s reply is muffled, and your thoughts wander. Once you return, you should find Jungkook and instruct him to search Maro’s former haunts. There’s a chance he wasn’t working alone and if so, you’ll need to catch his supporters.
Tonight has taken a toll though, no matter how much you’d like to pretend otherwise. Exhaustion settles while you stare out the window, watching the lights of Janloon flick past.
Yoongi hangs up the phone. “Yejun is fine,” he says, and you turn your head. “Namjoon said she lost a lot of blood, but nothing that can’t be fixed. She should be awake in a few hours.”
Relief floods your body. “That’s good.”
His hand rests beside yours on the seat, close enough to feel the heat from his palm. Exhaling softly, Yoongi shifts until his hand covers yours.
Going still, you stare at your entwined hands on the leather. The car slows beneath you, coming to a stop before the Min gates. Another moment passes before the gates open, the car rumbling forward as Yoongi speaks up.
“You can take us to my place, Galo,” he says. “No need to stop at the main house.”
Startled, you glance sideways, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice. Never mind the driver’s raised eyebrows, or the fact that Yoongi just told him you’re sleeping together. While it’s true, you’ve slept here before, you’ve never been obvious. It feels as though a bridge has been crossed without discussion of what that means.
The moment the car is in park, you exit the vehicle and slam the door. Striding inside the front door, you unzip your jacket to hang on a hook. If Yoongi thinks he can share your relationship with others, you have every right to act at home in his house.
Technically, the Horn has a house on Min property, but you’ve always preferred to keep a separate residence. Your apartment in the city has served you well – except for the nights you stay here and sneak out the next morning.
Removing your boots, you set these aside. “We just discussed this,” you fume as you turn. “Ask me next time before you decide–”
Your words are cut off by Yoongi’s mouth, pushing you back until your spine hits the wall. “Couldn’t wait,” he rasps, shutting the door with his foot. “Need you. Now.”
Exhaling, you melt and arch upward against him. Grasping your thigh, Yoongi yanks your leg higher to wrap around his waist. The thick length of his cock presses to your center and you nearly whimper. Fiery anger dissolves into need – the need to touch him, feel him and wash away tonight’s fear.
“Yoongi,” you moan, turning your head. “I need to shower.”
Grasping your wrists with one hand, he presses them above your head. “Do you?” he murmurs, kissing down your neck.
“I’m covered in blood,” you protest.
Glancing up, Yoongi smirks. “And?”
Stifling laughter, you push at his chest. Obedient, Yoongi releases your hands to take a step backward. “Not to mention,” you say as you move past, “I’d rather not have Toh Marosun’s blood in your bed.”
Yoongi’s next action is quick, happening in the same breath. Catching your wrist in one hand, he pulls you closer. “The next time you say a man’s name in this house,” he rasps. “It had better be mine.”
“We’ll see,” you say loftily. “Now, let me wash up.”
Releasing you, Yoongi lets you pass, and you don’t turn around. If you did, you know you might cave and fuck him right there on the floor.
Entering his bedroom, you flick on the lights. Soft, muted warmth fills a room of concrete. Bulletproof windows overlook dense vegetation, invoking the feel of a post-apocalyptic city. Pausing in the doorway, you inhale his scent.
Although you’d never tell Yoongi – it’d go to his head – this room has swiftly become one of your favorite places. Watching dawn break in his arms has brought you greater peace than any of the gods.
In his bathroom, you help yourself to his fancy products and step under the spray. Securing your hair, you do your best to avoid the strands getting wet. Cranking up the heat to high, steam fills the room as you scrub blood from your skin. The water beneath your feet turns red, and then pink before finally clear.
Once done, you turn off the spray and wrap yourself in a towel. Straining Perception, you find Yoongi showering across the house. You’re momentarily surprised he didn’t try and join, although grateful he didn’t. After five years of knowing one another, Yoongi understands when you need time alone.
You’re washing your face when the bedroom door creaks. Drying your skin, you cross to the closet and withdraw a robe. Securing the tie, you wipe steam from the mirror before opening the door.
Yoongi sits on the edge of his bed, damp hair curling at the base of his neck. He’s freshly washed and changed into a plain shirt and trousers. In one hand, he holds a crystal glass of hoji, swirling it once before taking a sip.
Leisurely, his gaze drags down your body. When Yoongi looks up, his face brims with unsaid desire. Silent, he sets down his glass and pushes himself to stand. Watching him eagerly, you Perceive his intent when Yoongi prowls closer.
Coming to a stop before you, Yoongi lifts his hand to cup the back of your neck. Tilting your face upward, he strokes your damp skin with his fingers.
Silent, he lowers his face until your lips nearly touch. “What was it you said?” he murmurs. “About the clan being your blood and the Pillar, its master?”
Your breath catches in your throat. “You know the oaths as well as I do.”
“Yes.” Bending, Yoongi uses Strength to lift you against him. Gripping you tightly, he carries you to his dresser and deposits you there. “Well,” he says, lowering himself. “Allow me to show you who I get on my knees for.”
You stare at him, mesmerized when he parts your legs. Pulling your hips to the edge, Yoongi grips your thigh with a veined hand. The sight of him like this is downright sinful. Desire courses through you, setting your skin ablaze.
Yoongi leans forward, gaze meeting yours at the first brush of his tongue. You groan with relief, thighs spreading further. Lifting his other hand, Yoongi tugs at the tie of your robe. You inhale when it opens, fully bared while Yoongi’s tongue curls against your dripping sex.
He pulls away, eyes dark and casually spreads your folds. Muttering something that sounds like a swear, he stares at your cunt before lowering his head and sucking your clit. A dark moan escapes, weight shifting to get him even closer. Forcing your thighs open, Yoongi begins to flick his tongue against your swollen mound.
He doesn’t rush this, taking his time while eating you out. Yoongi flicks, and then swirls before sucking your clit. His tongue drags to your cunt, already dripping with arousal. Humming in satisfaction, Yoongi shifts on the floor and slips his tongue inside. Gasping his name, your fingers curl in the dark strands of his hair.
His tongue slowly fucks you, barely a taste of what’s to come. “Yoongi,” you groan, moving against him. “I need more.”
“Anything,” he says, pulling back to spread you with his fingers. Yoongi’s thumb finds your clit, casually stroking until your body quivers. “Take off the robe,” he demands, looking up. “I want to see you.”
Wordless, you push the supple silk from your shoulders.
“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes, staring at rounded breasts and hard nipples. Lowering his head, he sucks your clit again. Sliding a hand under your ass, he drags you close to the edge.
Gasping out loud, your hand fists his hair to anchor your body. In the mirror behind him, you watch your chest heave, hips undulating while he licks your pussy. Head tipping back, you lose yourself in sensation, each stroke of his tongue further coiling your tension. Yoongi is patient; he knows what you need and takes his time getting there.
Cupping his head, you move your hips while starting to ride his tongue. When Yoongi strokes your entrance and slips a finger inside, you nearly convulse.
“Yoongi,” you gasp, legs shaking.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, lifting his head. Curling that finger, he strokes a dangerous place. “Come for me.”
When his tongue resumes motion, you feel your walls convulse. Tighter and tighter until – everything snaps, a wave of pleasure cresting through you. Thighs trembling, you hold Yoongi’s hair while you cry out his name.
The pleasure slowly subsides, leaving you slumped on the dresser. Yoongi pushes himself upward, cock straining eagerly against the seams of his pants. Cupping the back of your neck, he kisses you deeply, allowing you to taste yourself. Parting your lips with his tongue, he dives into you eagerly, one hand slipping to slide into your pussy.
Groaning his name, you fumble with the buttons holding his shirt together. “This,” you demand. “Off.”
Using Strength, you send the buttons flying. Yoongi smirks, withdrawing and pushing his shirt to the ground. Touching his chest, you stare at him, unabashed. The lean lines of his torso, the indent of his v, the jade lining his fingers where he grips you tightly.
His moon blade is absent, likely the first thing he cleaned upon entry. Still, the hum of Yoongi’s jade is a potent weapon – nearly as much as the need in his eyes.
Lowering your hand, you palm the bulge in his pants. Jaw flexing, Yoongi lifts your leg to wrap around him. The roughness of his pants against your sex makes you hiss.
“Yoongi,” you moan. “Want to touch you.”
“I want that, too,” he murmurs, hair falling into his gaze. “More than that, I want to be inside you.”
Breath catching, you remove your hand as he presses forward. You feel his cock through his pants, rock-hard and straining against your needy pussy. Swallowing thickly, you managed to undo the last button and shove his pants down. Stepping free of their confines, Yoongi palms his own cock.
Replacing his hand, you give him a squeeze. Yoongi lowers his head to close his lips around a waiting nipple. A whimper rises when he tugs, switching to the other breast and repeating the motion. Arching upward, you lazily drag your thumb over the tip of his cock.
Eventually, Yoongi looks up and hisses, “Enough.”
Reaching lower, he guides his cock to your entrance. Leaning back on your palms, you lift one knee to allow him better access. Yoongi pauses, gaze traveling your face to your chest, landing on your cunt. Exhaling softly, your head tips back as you widen your legs.
“You’re perfect,” Yoongi rasps, flicking his thumb over your hooded clit.
Inhaling, you tremble from oversensitivity. Bending, Yoongi slowly spits to land moisture on your cunt. It drips down your sex, mixing with arousal while Yoongi pushes the tip of his cock inside. He pauses, watching your face, then adds another inch.
You arch upward, trying and failing to take him in deeper. “Is that all you have?” you challenge, goading.
Yoongi merely smirks. “Do you think,” he murmurs, refusing to move, “you can make me give you what you want?”
When he starts to withdraw, you tilt your hips, and he slides in a bit deeper. Yoongi groans as he fills you, hand tightening on your waist.
“Yes,” you gloat, brushing your breasts to his chest. “I do.”
Yoongi’s gaze flares, and he pushes in a bit more. “I know you, Y/N,” he murmurs, moving one hand to your neck. Thumb brushing your collarbone, he hauls you upright and keeps your thighs spread. “I know you want this pussy filled nice and slow. I know you want me to tease you. I know you want to feel in control but have someone else do the work. And I want – no, need,” Yoongi corrects, aura flaring, “to be the one giving it to you.”
Before you can respond, he thrusts forward and fills you with his cock. A cry leaves you, unable to do anything but take it. With your legs spread, hips tilted, the thickness of his length presses to your g-spot. And when Yoongi withdraws and leaves your body empty, you think you might cry. Think you might beg to have more of his cock.
Luckily, Yoongi doesn’t want this. Thrusting into you fully, he starts to move. Filling you up with his thickness, he goes harder and harder until you can barely think straight. His hips pound yours, filling you to the brim, making you take it. Fingers brushing the jade on your throat, he spikes your arousal and drenches his cock.
“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes, staring at the place he disappears inside you. “You’re amazing.”
“Yoongi,” you groan. “I need… need…”
“Yeah?” His gaze lifts. “Tell me what you need.”
“Deeper,” you plead.
His aura flares briefly before he pulls out. Before you can speak, his hands find your waist, setting you on the floor to turn you around. Spreading your legs, he presses a hand to your back to push you lower.
Gripping his dresser, you look over your shoulder while he positions himself from behind. “What about now?” Yoongi asks, slipping inside with one thrust.
Lips parting, you bend further and stick out your ass. Yoongi starts to move when you spread your legs, fucking you harder. His thrusts become rougher, hips slapping your ass while your breasts bounce.
“That’s it,” he says, leaning forward to lace one hand with yours. His other slides between your thighs, flicking over your clit. “So wet and tight for me. Taking my cock like you own it.”
“Don’t I?” you groan.
“Mm,” he agrees, rubbing circles on your clit. “It’s yours – I’m yours.”
Before you can respond, he pulls out again. Draping you over one shoulder, Yoongi carries you, Light, to his bed. You scowl, hitting his thigh but Yoongi responds with a firm smack to your ass. His fingers slip briefly between your cheeks, wetting himself with your slick. Before you can moan, he deposits you on the bed.
Kneeling between your legs, Yoongi repositions himself at your entrance and pushes in.
“Oh,” you groan, heading tilting back.
You love sex with Yoongi in every position, but this is your favorite. Feeling his callouses slide over our skin, his weight heavy while filling you with his cock. Yoongi’s length slides inside, rocking into you slowly while his hair brushes your forehead.
Reaching up, you push this from his face when he starts to move. If there’s one thing you’ve learned from tonight, it’s that these moments are precious. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you hold him tighter.
“Marry me,” Yoongi says.
You go still underneath him. “I… what?”
Sliding his hand under your hips, Yoongi tilts them to get deeper. “Marry me,” he repeats. “I’m tired of pretending. Tired of waking up without you. Living my life without you.”
“You have me,” you say, unsure whether he’s serious.
Slowly, he thrusts in and out of your body. “Not the way I want.” His eyes flash. “As not only my Horn, but my wife. I want to be your husband. I want the entire world to know I belong to you.”
Taking your other hand, Yoongi moves this to the bed while continuing to thrust. You arch against him, chasing his hips and words with your own.
“People will talk,” you say, breathless.
His gaze sparks. “Do you think I care?”
“Maybe I care,” you say. “They’ll call me a distraction. And don’t give me that bullshit about my life being worth more than yours.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Yoongi chuckles, teeth scraping your neck. “What I will say is that I’m better with you. And if I’m better, the clan is better. Not that you should marry me because of that,” he adds, almost an afterthought.
You lose your breath when he circles his hips, driving into you deeper. Thighs parting, you lose yourself in the feel of him in you. His body moves as his soul does, completing you fully. In truth, you’ve avoided this conversation because you know how it ends.
It ends with Yoongi. He’s it for you. From the first time you kissed, you knew it would end up here – it was only a matter of when. Your remaining barriers crumble as you meet his gaze.
“Yes,” you exhale, your hips chasing his.
Yoongi’s aura sharpens. “Yes?” he repeats. “Is that… agreement or acceptance?”
“Yes – as in yes, Yoongi, I’ll marry you.”
Yoongi goes completely still, ignoring your protest. A second later, he’s consumed by a wave of emotion. Need – fiery and stark – sweeps through him as he bends, crushing your lips to his. Yoongi’s kiss burns, searing and marking you for one another.
Slipping an arm beneath your knee, Yoongi pushes upward to get even deeper. You gasp with pleasure, his cock hitting a spot that makes you incoherent.
“Soon,” he adds, adding Strength to his thrusts.
Breathless, your fingertips dig into his skin. “Don’t be greedy,” you chide, losing some credibility when a moan leaves your lips.
His upper lip curls. “I am, though,” Yoongi grunts, pushing you close to the edge. “I’ll never have enough of you, Y/N.”
“Good,” you say, holding him tightly. “I’m yours, Yoongi.”
A groan escapes him, burying his face in your neck. The muscles in Yoongi’s shoulders strain, fucking you harder. “I could die hearing those words.”
“Don’t. That’s an order.”
Yoongi looks up to lock gazes. “Whatever you want. I need it, Y/N. Need this – want to feel you come on my cock.”
Already close to the edge, his words leave you trembling. Clutching him harder, you widen your thighs and feel your walls shatter when you come undone. Pleasure consumes you, vision going dark as you throw back your head. Yoongi’s lips brush your throat, continuing to thrust through your orgasm.
Swearing when you tighten, Yoongi goes harder to chase his release. On his last thrust, he breaks, your name on his tongue as hot cum fills your body. Slowly, he lowers himself to the bed beside you. Yoongi slips partway out, your bodies still intertwined.
Lifting a hand, you drag this down his side. Yoongi smiles at you before pulling out, reaching to grab a tissue from his nightstand. He cleans you with care, then rises from bed to throw it away. Slipping beneath the covers, you wait for his return.
Yoongi does so quietly, dimming the light before he joins you in bed. Slowly, your eyes adjust until Yoongi’s moon-limned face becomes visible.
“Did you mean it?” you say, barely more than a whisper.
“I’ve never meant anything more in my life,” he says roughly. “And you? Did you also mean what you said?”
Slowly, you nod.
Joy floods his aura, sharp and bright. “Anything you want,” Yoongi says, determined. “You have only to ask. Cities burnt. Villains vanquished. My own name, forsaken – ask, and it’s yours.”
You can’t help but laugh, your whole body shaking. “Villains vanquished?” you tease, pressing closer. “There are some who might call you the villain of this story.”
His lip twitches. “Then, I’ll defeat myself.”
“Seems like an easy fight.”
Mock growling, he rolls to pin you underneath him. You laugh louder, the sound muffled when Yoongi bends to kiss you. By the time his head lifts, the two of you are breathless.
“I apologize,” you murmur, cupping his face. “Most fearsome Pillar.”
Baring his teeth, he nips your thumb. “That’s better.”
“Truly, though,” you tell him. “There’s no need to get me anything. Whatever I want, I can get for myself.”
Somewhat amused, Yoongi settles beside you. “Oh, I’m aware. My heart, for instance,” he says, placing your hand on his chest.
“That, I’ll accept,” you say softly, staring at your hand on his skin. Your gaze lifts. “As long as mine belongs to you, in turn.”
“A heart for a heart,” Yoongi agrees, moving closer.
Skin pressed to skin, you feel your hearts settle. No Green Bone magic ties two souls together. Instead, that magic lies within the bounds of normal humans. And yet, as you breathe and listen to the blood in his veins, you can’t help but feel something greater is at work.
Something even death could not part – although you’d dare it to try.
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 © kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission.
Author’s Note: thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Go read Jade City by Fonda Lee. LOL   
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ranticore · 1 month ago
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All your settings are crazy interesting to think about and currently I've been taur-brained. sorry if you've already answered this somewhere else, but who are the ones manufacturing their clothes? Or their mane and hoof care products, etc? Would it be humans who were already making similar stuff for normal horses, or are there some centaurs also in the business making more specialized and informed products (like shoes or horse-pants????) Surely there's an economic power imbalance in there somewhere between whoevers making the necessities and who's got to buy them.
(either way, being good at diy is probably a plus for them )
I mentioned it a little bit in the first clothing post i made but the examples given (aside from the classical dress) are all modern - basically, small tailor shops in Ironwall will bulk-order horse blankets from wholesale (usually international) retailers and modify them on-site for resale to centaurs, sometimes doing a same-day custom job for someone if they need it. this is considered kinda cheap, and not in the realm of formalwear/barely business casual. think t-shirt and jeans level stuff. but like you said, in a lot of cases centaurs would buy their own horse rugs to modify at home (basically you need longer straps that articulate at a different part of the body than stock). these specific alteration shops are usually some of the first businesses to pop up in cities/towns outside Ironwall whenever emmigrant centaurs have a decent presence, alongside herbivore food shops.
so yeah absolutely as a marker of class & a requirement for formal occasions, there is bespoke tailor-made clothing made to fit their bodies from the start and it is EXPENSIVE. especially the big classical style gowns, there's a lot of fabric there and it has to be cut well so that it doesn't entangle the legs or restrict the torso, and have enough petticoat/underskirt/etc so that there'll be no accidental flashing on a windy day. now modern commercialism/capitalism hit Ironwall in a very strange way - many centaurs remember the exact moment the first mcdonalds opened in ironwall in the 90s, as human resident % had gone up and suddenly Ironwall was a market and a consumer base.
(this one got so long that even I will concede to a readmore)
most people unable to afford the tailored stuff in the early 20th century would buy big cuts of curtain fabric and sew their own gowns for formal occasions/serving on a budget and those gowns would see use for decades. companies saw the potential to offer factory/sweatshop produced off the rack centaur fast fashion that resembled the very intricate classical gowns without any of the tailored properties/thick skirts/flexibility in the torso/etc. this is landfill junk and wears out quickly. in many cases it's a cheap human bodice/t-shirt/etc sewn to the bottom gown bit, which means there's a weak seam right at a point of great articulation, and the clothes will catch/snag in odd places because the muscles underneath are different too. in terms of the economic power imbalance - yep. it's a market but a small one, without much competition, and multinationals can easily outcompete the centaur tailors who offer services at middle or low price brackets.
and of course. there's always poverty tourism. you can buy fully bespoke, made-for-centaurs, designer... rebadged horse blankets, for the athleisure/sports-luxe fans
because centaurs as a market share are not very prominent still (that is changing tho), most of their own businesses are small and dynastic - one group running the same mane oil business since the 1700s, churning out the same basic product for a small but dedicated audience. these types of businesses rarely advertise and if they do it's by putting a tiny text-only ad into the paper with their phone number inserted. they are woefully ill-prepared to compete with external businesses turning their eye to Ironwall in search of new markets. but what they have that large multinationals don't is parochialism and loyalty to a brand, and access to a more readily exploited centaur work force. many will turn around and do a little song and dance "don't you want to support small centaur businesses? we'll go under if we have to comply with modern labour laws!"
because at the heart of centaur businesses is that old purifying work ethic, and because ironwall is 1. conservative and 2. largely self-governing, their labour laws are antiquated. they still have workhouses. and there has always been a lack of interest from the wider country's government to intervene because ehh it's the Ironwall culture to work hard, isn't it? and do we really want to insert ourselves into centaur business? humans actively seeking work in ironwall, then, make up two broad groups - those who seek to exploit these relaxed labour laws by opening a business, and those who know that 'poor' in other places is 'middle class disposable income' in Ironwall (like first worlders becoming 'expats' or 'digital nomads' in places with cheaper costs of living than their wealthy home nation - easily leading to gentrification).
Anyway so that's all the modern perspective; all of this applies for the other beastmen as well like the harpies and so on, though they have to live with the additional layer of most of their laws and products being about horses.
Historically centaur clothing was made by hand in the home, usually by the women in a social group, and made robust enough to last several generations of wear (with repairs). Because clothing would be passed down from mother to daughter, this resulted in colt bachelor bands being so fucking naked all the time. In traditional enclaves and pre-Florian settlements, a stallion who was accepted into his new herd would be gifted handmade kinetic clothing (bells, ribbons, feathers, anything that enhances the movement) by his new wives and his ability to keep his gifts looking nice would be judged for a set period of time (if you lose a bell that's bad luck buddy), after which he was supposed to return the favour by hand-carving them beautiful tail ornaments (as discussed in my historical clothing post - the ornaments would appear similar to welsh lovespoons in design)
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this tradition got trampled over with the introduction of Florian's penal laws because tail ornaments could not be worn when the tail was fully covered and attempts at kinetic fashion fell flat when your nice trot is all hidden up by what's basically a giant tablecloth. but there does remain a custom of women giving men gifts to test their commitment (to heterosexuality), with the expectation that it'll be paid back with something nice and handmade. but commercialism comes for us all eventually.
finally on the topic of shoes, iron shoes are not super common anymore but in the victorian era, rope shoes were manufactured in the city to cut down on noise levels when streets were becoming full paved/cobbled.
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they were not very good for the feet and required regular replacement because the rope would wear down, but that meant business for farriers was booming and became almost guaranteed when the famously and hilariously corrupt high councillors and lord protector began to pass increasingly strict anti noise pollution laws.
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customgymequipment1 · 11 months ago
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raptorpowersystems · 13 days ago
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Where to Mount a PDU in a Rack: A Complete Guide If your setup requires power redundancy, you might need dual PDUs per rack. In this case, mount one PDU on each side of the rack vertically to balance the power load and maintain accessibility. This also simplifies redundant power distribution for dual-corded devices.
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reddest-flower · 5 months ago
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Only at the end of his life did Karl Marx leave the shores of Europe and travel to a country under colonial dominion. This was when he went to Algeria in 1882. ‘For Mussalmans, there is no such thing as subordination’, Marx wrote to his daughter Laura Lafargue. Inequality is an abomination to ‘a true Mussalman’, but these sentiments, Marx felt, ‘will go to rack and ruin without a revolutionary movement’. A movement of revolutionary understanding would easily be able to grow where there was this cultural feeling against inequality. Marx did not write more about Algeria or about Islam. These were observations made by a father to his daughter. But they do tell us a great deal about Marx’s sensibility.
There was no room in Marxism for the idea that certain people needed to be ruled because they were racial or social inferiors. In fact, Marxism – from Marx’s early writings onward – always understood human freedom as a universal objective. Human slavery and the degradation of human beings into wage slavery awoke in Marx his prophetic indignation. One of Marx’s most famous passages in Capital (1867) pointed out that the ‘rosy dawn of the era of capitalist production’ should not be found in the antiseptic bank or factory. The origin of capitalism had to be found – among other processes – in ‘the extirpation, enslavement and entombment in mines of the aboriginal population, the beginning of the conquest and looting of the East Indies, the turning of Africa into a warren for the commercial hunting of Black skins’. Capitalism grew and was sustained by the degradation of humanity. No wonder, then, that anti-colonialism would play such an important role in the Marxist movement.
When Marxism travelled outside the domain where Marx first developed the theory, it had to engage with what Lenin called ‘the most essential thing in Marxism, the living soul of Marxism, the concrete analysis of concrete conditions’. This formula was valuable from the Dutch East Indies to the Andes.
In the Andes (in South America), one of the greatest (and least known) Marxist thinkers – José Carlos Mariátegui (1894-1930) – wrote in 1928, ‘We do not wish that Socialism in America be a tracing and a copy. It must be a heroic creation. We must, with our own reality, in our own language, bring Indoamerican socialism to life.’ What did Mariátegui do? He read his Marx and his Lenin – and he studied deeply in the social reality of the Andes. Lenin’s theory of the worker-peasant alliance provided a fundamental addition to his Marxism. The ‘socialist revolution in a mainly agrarian country like Peru in the 1920s’, he wrote, ‘was simply inconceivable without taking into consideration the insurgent mobilization of indigenous rural communities that were challenging the power of large land-owners (latifundistas) who were responsible for keeping alive old forms of economic exploitation’. The agent of change in Peru amongst the producing classes had to include the indigenous rural communities whose population was mainly Amerindian. To seek the insurgents amongst the minuscule industrial sector of Lima alone would be to go into battle with capital with one hand tied behind the back. This is an echo of Lenin’s call for worker and peasant unity, but with the indigenous communities now in the framework.
Were the indigenous rural communities capable of a socialist movement? In the 1920s, when Mariátegui was writing, the prevailing intellectual fashion with regard to the rural communities was indigenismo, or Indianness – meaning a cultural movement that revived and celebrated Amerindian cultural forms but did not seek to explore their transformative potential. Indigenismo defanged the Amerindians and romantically saw them as culture producers but not history producers. Mariátegui reinterpreted their history in a more vibrant way – looking backwards at Inca primitive socialism and current struggles against the latifundistas as resources for social transformation. ‘The thesis of a communist Inca tradition is’, he wrote, ‘the defence of a historical continuity between the ancient Inca communal way of life and the Peruvian communist society of the future’. Mariátegui’s Andean socialism was never a restoration of the past, of a primitive communism of an ancient Inca world. ‘It is clear that we are concerned less with what is dead than with has survived of the Inca civilization’, he wrote in 1928. ‘Peru’s past interests us to the extent it can explain Peru’s present. Constructive generations think of the past as an origin, never as a programme’. [my italics] In other words, the past is a resource not a destination – it reminds us of what is possible, and its traces show us that elements of that old communitarianism can be harnessed in the fight against colonial private property relations in the present. When Marxism came to the Third World, it had to be supple and precise – learn from its context, understand the way capitalism morphs in a new venue and explore the ways for social transformation to drive history.
The Comintern tried to be supple, but its limited knowledge of the world meant it ended up being far too dogmatic to be always useful. By the late 1920s, the Comintern suggested the creation of a Black Belt in the southern region of the United States, Native Republics in South Africa and an Indian Republic along the Andean region of South America. From Moscow, it appeared as if the nationalities theory could be easily transported to these distant lands. For South America, the theory was debated at the First Latin American Communist Conference held in Buenos Aires in June 1929. Fierce debate broke out here, with the Comintern’s preferred position being opposed by Mariátegui’s associates. ‘The construction of an autonomous state from the Indian race’, Mariátegui wrote, ‘would not lead to the dictatorship of the Indian proletariat, nor much less the formation of an Indian State without classes.’ What would be created is an ‘Indian bourgeois State with all of the internal and external contradictions of other bourgeois states’. The preferred option would be of the ‘revolutionary class movement of the exploited indigenous masses’, which was the only way for them to ‘open a path to the true liberation of their race’. The debate on goals and strategy became so fierce that this was the only Latin American Communist Conference to be held. ‘The indigenous proletariat await their Lenin’, Mariátegui wrote. He meant not a Lenin as such, but a theory that could emerge from the movements to lead them against the rigid structures of the past and present.
This was not always the lesson that was learned. But it is our lesson now.
Red Star Over the Third World, Vijay Prashad, 2019
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fishmech · 9 months ago
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usenet comments of late October 1998 by Randy Landers, fanzine publisher
these two quotes do a great job of illustrating just how much of a pain in the ass it was to run any sort of website that got even a little popular back in 1998. 2100 visitors and 370 megabytes transferred? yeah you're pulling something like $175 in monthly costs to service that.
this guy's paying normal commercial hosting rates. a person on a free host would have been having their site constantly blocked off due to too much bandwidth usage and waiting for those blocks to time out. if someone was lucky enough to be getting hosting under university or corporate auspices they might either be able to just absorb this with no issue, or the high traffic might cause the relevant administrators to finally notice your account needed to be restricted.
these are the kinds of things I think of when people try to claim the 90s internet experience wasn't "corporate". it's not just that most places people actually went back then were corporate, it's also that non-corporate sites quickly ran into trouble with their corporate hosts if they got popular and the site runner wasn't able to fork out quite a lot of money.
you know what you can get for $175 a month in hosting today? essentially everything short of serving millions of people a day. you can already get a simple mostly static site of the kind people were running in 1998 for something down around $13 a month now with effectively unlimited storage and bandwidth usage, on shared servers with minimal cgi-bin/php sorta interactivity. paying as much as this guy apparently did would be bringing you up to a full private server colocation set up where you're providing your own server and getting served with guaranteed minimums like dedicated multi-gigabit bandwidth and as much storage as can be shoved in the server's case.
and well that's $175 in October 1998 dollars, it's more like $330 now. And at that scale you're starting to get co-location services like 30 rack units of space for your internal network devices and multiple servers, the power to run them all, and a multi-gigabit dedicated bandwidth to your designated network cabinet in the data center. The scale of what your dollar gets you has increased massively, and the scale of what a dollar gets you adjusted by inflation has increased even more.
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angelwebpromotion · 2 years ago
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quartercirclejab · 1 year ago
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the vapid perfection of david s pumpkins
the halloween season is upon us, and prompted by a conversation i recently had about holiday characters, i come to you now on this tuesday night to bestow one of my half-clever pearls of wisdom:
the SNL character David S. Pumpkins is the perfect mascot for Halloween in the 21st century
for those of us unfamiliar, David S. Pumpkins is a character from a 2016 episode of Saturday Night Live, appearing in a Halloween sketch called "Haunted Elevator" and played by episode guest star Tom Hanks
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the joke, in a nutshell, is that nothing about the character of David S. Pumpkins makes sense. he's not scary in the way actors in a haunted house usually are, and everything about him- from the garish suit, to the bride-of-frankenstein streak of white in his hair, to the b-boying skeletons- is only related to Halloween by vague adherence to a general theme. the guests insists that they don't get it, they demand to know what his "deal" is, unable to grasp that he has no deal- he's just David Pumpkins, man. and the skeletons, by their own admission, are "part of it."
but i submit to you that this walking non-sequitur is the most perfect representation of modern Halloween to emerge so far this century
there was a time when Halloween had a deeper meaning to most Americans. even those that didn't consider themselves especially spiritual recognized that the holiday had ties to the traditional harvest festivals of old, and an air of persistent superstitiousness lingered into contemporary times, well past the time when many were beginning to dismiss such beliefs (a phenomenon famously put to film by the 1993 cult class "Hocus Pocus")
the turn of the century, however, marked a strict departure into powerful commercialism. Halloween shifted into a mostly secular occasion to dress up and party, a holiday that exists not out of observation of the Solstice or the Equinox, but rather for its own sake
David S. Pumpkins is the avatar of this way of thinking, this transformation of Halloween from Ceremony to Celebration
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clad in a cheap polyester suit that wouldn't be out of place on Party City's clearance rack (perhaps labeled "Pumpkin Man" or "Spooky Suit") and accompanied by hastily (read: cheaply) assembled b-boying skeletons, the character reflects what Halloween has become. the holiday isn't about any kind of harvest festival, or even about being scary in particular. to the 21st century American, Halloween is about Halloween- references to universal symbols like pumpkins and bats and ghosts for the sake of the fact that the symbols themselves are known to be shorthand for Halloween, rather than anything they might actually represent. even the costumes themselves signify nothing except themselves, serving as a play opportunity for children, and a party admission stamp for adults
our modern Halloween is a xerox of a xerox, an endlessly reflecting funhouse mirror out of which David S. Pumpkins has stepped, fully formed and self-evident
he's the perfect Halloween mascot for the modern age. and that's why we love him.
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