#home laboratory services

[mobilelabsone]

Website: https://www.mobilelabsone.com

Address: Somerset County, New Jersey, USA

Mobile Labs One, situated in Somerset County, New Jersey, offers a distinctive, patient-centered in-home laboratory service across Central New Jersey, with a spotlight on Somerset and Morris Counties. With over 35 years of comprehensive medical laboratory experience, they prioritize patient comfort and convenience by bringing laboratory services directly to your doorstep. Their certified phlebotomists are not only adept at collecting various laboratory specimens, including blood and urine, but also facilitate DNA Genetic Testing and Covid-19 testing. Partnering with several local laboratories, they ensure swift and efficient delivery of results, typically within 48 hours, directly to your doctor. Mobile Labs One simplifies the process of laboratory testing, managing all paperwork, insurance billing, and specimen delivery, all while providing a stress-free and convenient experience for the patient. Their services extend to homes, workplaces, and even doctor's offices, ensuring laboratory testing is accessible and hassle-free.

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[conferkare]

Online Health Consultation Services – Expert Medical Advice at ConferKare

Your Health, Our Priority: Virtual Doctor Visits Anytime, Anywhere - ConferKareExperience top-notch healthcare from the comfort of your home with ConferKare's online video doctor consultations. Our expert doctors are just a click away, ready to provide you with quality medical advice and treatment plans. 

Enjoy the convenience of scheduling appointments that fit your busy life, ensuring your health is always a priority. Whether you need a routine check-up, follow-up care, or specialist advice, ConferKare brings healthcare to your fingertips, anytime, anywhere.

Discover a new way to stay healthy with ConferKare's virtual doctor visits. Book your consultation now!

Book Your Online general physician consultationToday with ConferKare, For More call Us Today!! 9776414444 / 91 637 1966 229

[agilusdiagnosticsseo]

Pathology Services At Home

Experience the convenience of pathology services at home with agilus diagnostics centre.We bring top tier diagnostic services right to your doorstep ensuring accurate and timely results with out the hassle of visiting a clinic.Our trained professionals are equipped to handle all your diagnostic needs in the comfort of your home.In addition to pathology we also offer comprehensive health check-up at home packages.Regular health check-ups are essential for maintaining your well being and agilus diagnostics centre makes it easier than ever.Our expert team ensures a thorough examination providing you with detailed reports and personalized health advice. Choose agilus diagnostics centre for reliable pathology services at home and convenient health check-up at home solutions.

Agilus Labs Chandigarh, Health Check Up Centres

Agilus Labs Chandigarh, Health Check-Up Centers. Our unique offering and professional services. Don't miss out getting the health insights y

AGILUS DIAGNOSTICS LTD.

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[vividdiagnostic-123]

A COMPREHENSIVE GUIDE TO CHOOSING THE BEST LAB FOR YOUR CHECK-UPS

Choosing the right diagnostic centre for your healthcare check-up is quite important. The accuracy of treatment depends on the results you get, so it’s vital to choose the right place. Here in this article, we will guide you through the aspects that you have to keep in mind while choosing a diagnostic centre for your healthcare needs. If you’re searching for the best lab in Kochi to get your full body check-up and other individual tests, Vivid Diagnostic Center is here to help you out.

Basic things to keep in mind while

choosing a diagnostic centre

Does The Centre Have Accreditation?

It’s quite important to consider the accreditation of a diagnostic centre before trusting it to be your go-to healthcare check-up centre. Check whether the center is ISO certified and whether it is recognized by the NABL -National Accreditation Board for Testing and Calibration Laboratories. If the lab is maintained according to NABL guidelines, then it can be trusted. Quality has become an important factor, after which the government has changed trade and industry policies post-liberalization

Vivid Diagnostic Centre is widely regarded as the best laboratory in Kochi, earning the trust of the community due to its exceptional service, accreditations, and credibility.

Accuracy of lab reports

Test reports play a crucial role in determining patients’ health conditions. A faulty evaluation can result in serious complications. So, focus on choosing a diagnostic centre that is known for the quality of its test reports. If you’re someone in search of the best lab in Kochi, Vivid Diagnostics will be the right place. The accuracy of the results depends on the efficiency of the types of equipment used. Therefore, it’s quite important to choose a diagnostic centre known for the quality of its test reports.

Timely delivery of reports

Since we visit diagnostic labs in times of healthcare need, it also becomes important for us to get the lab results on time and with accuracy. The accuracy of providing timely results also shows us the efficiency of the lab.

The Act of Service

Reliable customer service is what encourages patients to revisit the lab if needed for their healthcare check-ups. Customer service excellence implies a genuine concern for customers and a commitment to earning their trust. Keeping in touch with patients throughout the health check-up process and providing them with timely online result reports are integral aspects of this commitment. The tests should be done on an appointment basis, and everyone should be given individual attention.

Modern Technology

The best diagnostic centre will consist of well-equipped machines that incorporate modern technology. They ensure that the types of equipment used are well-advanced and provide accurate results.

Are the rates affordable?

Whatever your health concern, the diagnostic centre you’re visiting should be affordable for your convenience. Before visiting, compare prices with the nearest diagnostic centres. If you are checking for health check-up packages in Kochi, Vivid Diagnostic Centre is one of the best laboratories in Kochi

[boxhillsuperclinicaustralia]

https://www.boxhillsuperclinic.com.au/services/pathology/

Pathology Home Service | Boxhillsuperclinic

Boxhillsuperclinic proudly announce Dorevitch Pathology as our partner in diagnostics pathology services and as a test/sample collection centre for BoxHill centre. You can call on 03 9899 8668,  03 9899 4818 or After Hours: 137 425. Searching for the best medical services from Box Hill Superclinic in Melbourne, Australia.

[drdemonprince]

how do you get started as a new dom? it feels hard to be sure of yourself when you’re unsure of yourself

You really gotta get the theatrics of it all to work for you.

Use a blindfold. If your sub can't see where you are or what you're doing, their imagination will run wild and they'll find even the smallest touch or action from you to be vastly more exciting. And since they can't see you, you've bought yourself time to think, wander around, and plan your next move.

Use time and setting to your advantage. Be sensual and methodical in getting your sub handcuffed or tied up. Start with simple tools that you know how to use and have practiced with at home, and really draw out the process of getting the sub into position. If you're into impact rather than bondage, bend them over with a broad, warm palm on their back and trace the backs of their thighs. Don't move too quickly. This will hide a lot of your jitters and make everything more intense.

Don't be afraid to ask questions, check in, and remark at what works and what doesn't -- just do not do so in a self-deprecating way. If a command or a gesture just doesn't land in the way that you thought that it would, do not become crestfallen. That a Dom can instantly read their sub's every desire and reaction is just a fantasy. Think of yourself as a scientist who has a brand-new creature under observation. You may find that your sub adores tickling (or hates it), that a hot breath on their neck makes them squeal (or does nothing at all). Every specimen is unique and part of the pleasure is the exploration of their body and testing out their reactions. It's boring and unsexy to have a routine set of moves. Be responsive and curious rather than rote.

Find what you love about Dominance. Do you like fighting to subdue a bratty sub? Or do you prefer a docile good boy/girl/thing that will melt like butter under your touch? Are you handsy? Do you like controlling your sub's every movement, posing them like a doll? Or do you want to see yourself issuing commands and receiving service? Remember that your pleasure matters a great deal and will get the sub going, and orient a lot of your moves around that. Have your sub orally service you or make you a coffee or give you a massage. All kinky play is a negotiation between all parties' desires and limits. Make sure to inject yourself into what's happening -- and into your sub's behaviors and their frame of mind.

Don't worry too much about putting on a fake Dom voice or embodying a persona -- far too many newbie Doms think they need to speak in a deep and emotionless register and have everything figured out. It's far more alluring to be more human. Some people's Dominance looks like the way a proud cat mom talks to her pets. Other people are silly and playful like DeeDee from Dexter's Laboratory torturing her little brother. You can be a primal, snarling creature, a princess upon a throne, or a world-weary worker who takes out their daily frustrations on their living sex toy. Find what feels natural to you because then it will be easier to continue to embody your dominance as the situation evolves and unexpected things come up.

A note on finding partners: It can be difficult to find good submissive when you are an inexperienced Dom, because people understandably want to be placed into safe and competent hands. Try not to take this personally, and keep focusing on building up your skills, which you are entirely in control of. Take a class on shibari or impact. Get some toys. Visit a dungeon and ask questions. Befriend other Dominants and do some service to the broader community, so that you have people you can tap for advice and mentorship.

Once you have established yourself as a familiar face in the scene, then you can work on finding experienced subs who know what they like and can show you the ropes. Newbie Doms sometimes get intimidated by experienced subs, worrying that they cannot possibly match the intensity of those subs' prior sexual encounters-- but this is entirely the wrong way to look at it. Experienced subs know what they like and are experts at entering a submissive headspace. It will be easier to get them to respond to you than a completely unseasoned sub who's head is also not in the moment because they're filled with nerves. Working with someone who is older or more seasoned than you is not a threat to your Dominance. A new rider should start with a very well-trained horse, and doing so will help bolster the rider's confidence.

Have fun out there!

[nasa]

Let's Explore a Metal-Rich Asteroid 🤘

Between Mars and Jupiter, there lies a unique, metal-rich asteroid named Psyche. Psyche’s special because it looks like it is part or all of the metallic interior of a planetesimal—an early planetary building block of our solar system. For the first time, we have the chance to visit a planetary core and possibly learn more about the turbulent history that created terrestrial planets.

Here are six things to know about the mission that’s a journey into the past: Psyche.

1. Psyche could help us learn more about the origins of our solar system.

After studying data from Earth-based radar and optical telescopes, scientists believe that Psyche collided with other large bodies in space and lost its outer rocky shell. This leads scientists to think that Psyche could have a metal-rich interior, which is a building block of a rocky planet. Since we can’t pierce the core of rocky planets like Mercury, Venus, Mars, and our home planet, Earth, Psyche offers us a window into how other planets are formed.

2. Psyche might be different than other objects in the solar system.

Rocks on Mars, Mercury, Venus, and Earth contain iron oxides. From afar, Psyche doesn’t seem to feature these chemical compounds, so it might have a different history of formation than other planets.

If the Psyche asteroid is leftover material from a planetary formation, scientists are excited to learn about the similarities and differences from other rocky planets. The asteroid might instead prove to be a never-before-seen solar system object. Either way, we’re prepared for the possibility of the unexpected!

3. Three science instruments and a gravity science investigation will be aboard the spacecraft.

The three instruments aboard will be a magnetometer, a gamma-ray and neutron spectrometer, and a multispectral imager. Here’s what each of them will do:

Magnetometer: Detect evidence of a magnetic field, which will tell us whether the asteroid formed from a planetary body

Gamma-ray and neutron spectrometer: Help us figure out what chemical elements Psyche is made of, and how it was formed

Multispectral imager: Gather and share information about the topography and mineral composition of Psyche

The gravity science investigation will allow scientists to determine the asteroid’s rotation, mass, and gravity field and to gain insight into the interior by analyzing the radio waves it communicates with. Then, scientists can measure how Psyche affects the spacecraft’s orbit.

4. The Psyche spacecraft will use a super-efficient propulsion system.

Psyche’s solar electric propulsion system harnesses energy from large solar arrays that convert sunlight into electricity, creating thrust. For the first time ever, we will be using Hall-effect thrusters in deep space.

5. This mission runs on collaboration.

To make this mission happen, we work together with universities, and industry and NASA to draw in resources and expertise.

NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory manages the mission and is responsible for system engineering, integration, and mission operations, while NASA’s Kennedy Space Center’s Launch Services Program manages launch operations and procured the SpaceX Falcon Heavy rocket.

Working with Arizona State University (ASU) offers opportunities for students to train as future instrument or mission leads. Mission leader and Principal Investigator Lindy Elkins-Tanton is also based at ASU.

Finally, Maxar Technologies is a key commercial participant and delivered the main body of the spacecraft, as well as most of its engineering hardware systems.

6. You can be a part of the journey.

Everyone can find activities to get involved on the mission’s webpage. There's an annual internship to interpret the mission, capstone courses for undergraduate projects, and age-appropriate lessons, craft projects, and videos.

You can join us for a virtual launch experience, and, of course, you can watch the launch with us on Oct. 12, 2023, at 10:16 a.m. EDT!

For official news on the mission, follow us on social media and check out NASA’s and ASU’s Psyche websites.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[cherry-holmes]

REGRET

Part 1

(Javier Peña x F!Reader)

Credits of the gif on the image.

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Finding out you’re pregnant create a split between you and Javier. He soon will discover that one can regret they own words.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word count: +3k

Warnings: Writer prefer to not give details to prevent spoilers. Read under your own responsibility.

A/N: Hello👋🏻 This is a little something that came to my mind when a saw this gifs last week🧍🏻‍♀️ Let me know in comments if you like it👀

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

Javier and you have been dating for a year and a half now. It started as something casual. You were just neighbors, then you used to talk about the weather when you crossed paths in the building. Then, he invited you for a drink, and you ended up in his bed.

He told you he was a DEA agent, and you talked about your community service as an English teacher in Bogotá.

Javier was funny and charming. He always treated you like a princess and fucked you like a slut. He was attentive, but he worked a lot. You never seriously talked about what exactly you were, but you spent much more time at his place than yours. He hadn't given you a key, precisely, but he told you he had a copy on top of his door so you could enter when you arrive and he was still at work. He picked you up from the school, and you cut his hair when needed.

Life had been busy, and you never really stopped to ask him if your relationship had a label. The truth is, neither of you had actually stopped and asked each other what would come next when he caught Escobar and/or you finished your community service.

You never thought about it, until that damn morning.

"Fuck."

It can't be happening. Two lines on a pregnancy test were the last thing you needed. You looked at it for a long, long time, trying to process what was going on. You wanted a blood test to confirm, but there's a reason why you already took a pee test. Morning sickness and a delay in your period activated the alarms. You hadn't told Javier anything yet, but it was only a matter of time now.

That afternoon you went to the laboratory, and by noon you received a phone call confirming the results. You were, indeed, very pregnant. After you hung up the phone, you cried a lot. How were you going to tell Javi? What would you do with your job? What were you going to tell your parents? Did you really want to have it... him/her?

You felt the urgency to make a decision in that very moment. Javier was going to ask you when you told him, and you knew he hated the "I don't know."

It took you one, two, three hours, and you had an answer. You knew it was the right one because you thought it would take you a lot longer to decide. But when your heart landed in the same place over and over so quickly, you simply knew it.

Javier came home late at night, but earlier than usual. He looked tired and pissed, and he let his weight fall on the kitchen chair to devour what you had made for dinner. You looked at him the entire time, and the nervousness in your chest made it impossible to eat anything. You wanted to tell him. You couldn't contain the news any longer.

"Javi," you began. He didn't look at you for more than a second before his sleepy eyes fell on his plate again. "I have something to tell you. It's very important."

"What is it, babe?" he asked, his voice slurred.

"I..." You fought the lump in your throat, encouraging yourself to tell him. "I'm pregnant."

Until that moment, you didn't know what you expected. You didn't imagine him crying with emotion and jumping around the apartment, screaming to the four winds that he was going to be a dad. But you didn't imagine what his real reaction would be, either.

Javier didn't even look at you. He dropped his fork, leaned back in his chair, and passed his hands over his face. It wasn't a surprised, emotional reaction. He was pissed. He was cursing the situation.

You didn't say anything as you felt your heart and soul sink into your stomach. Disappointment washed over you as you saw his reaction. You tried to think of something else to say, but you went blank.

"We can't," he finally said, really looking at you for the first time that night.

"What do you mean we can't?" your voice was only a whisper.

He looked at you like you were crazy. "You're not seriously thinking about having it."

Your mouth went dry, but tears welled up in your eyes. "Well... I do."

Javier's face hardened. "It's not safe, not with what I do, not with Escobar still out there."

"We can figure this out together," you said, your voice quivering. "I-I know this country is dangerous and this is probably not the right time, but is already happening and I..."

"Are you sure you're...?" he began. It hurt you the fact that he couldn't even say it.

You stood up and reached for your purse. He saw you as you placed both the pee and the blood test in front of him.

"Puta madre." Javier stood up, pacing the kitchen. "Did you take the pills?" he demanded.

You nodded. "I do. But they're not a hundred percent effective."

He ran his fingers through his hair in an almost desperate gesture. "I can't do this. Parenting is not on my plans, and you know it."

"I didn't want this to happen either, Javier, and I'm sorry," you said, trying not to cry. "But you need to people to make a baby. So, we have to figure this out together."

"Don't complicate things more," he added. He made his way to the living room, pacing like a caged animal. "Think about the consequences. I can't risk my focus on this job for this."

Tears streamed down your face. "So, what? You want me to get rid of it?"

"I think it's the best option for both of us."

After a long, cold moment of silence, you shook your head, stepping back. "I can't believe you."

He sighed heavily, looking away. "You don't understand... it's too dangerous."

"I don't care," you cried. "I'm gonna have this baby. With or without you."

He sighed. He saw the determination on you. Now he needed to make a decision, since you're not going to change yours.

"Ok," he said finally. "It will happen, but you need to go back to the States."

"No," you sentenced. Javier couldn't believe your stubbornness. "I'm not going to leave, either. I can't leave the school. Those kids need my help."

He was doing his best to not completely lost his patience and say something (more) that he could – and will – regret.

"I can't concentrate on my job and take care of a pregnant woman," he sentenced, adding your name at the end in a way you had never heard before.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. "Well, then don't worry about me. I can handle this on my own."

Javier stared at you, his eyes dark with frustration. He thought of his parents. They didn't raise a man who shirks responsibility, one who doesn't own the consequences of his actions.

For a long moment, the only sound was the ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall. Finally, Javier sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"No," he said. "If that's what you want, fine. You'll have my financial support, but that's all. As soon as you finish your community service, you'll go back home. I'll send you money, that's it."

"I don't want anything from you, Javier. Not if you're not going to do it with real love," you whispered, heartbroken.

Javier's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. He turned away, staring at the wall, his hands clenched into fists.

He looked down, unable to meet your gaze. "I never saw myself as a dad. I don't think I ever will," he admitted. "That's all I can offer. I'm sorry it's not what you expected. I'm sorry I can't be the man you need."

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

Days turned into weeks, and your relationship with Javier seemed to be stuck in a constant struggle of awkward interactions and avoiding each other. He started working even later, and sometimes he didn't even spend the night at the apartment. He came back the next morning smelling like whiskey and cigarettes. When he did sleep at home, he took the couch while you slept on his bed. When you woke up in the morning, he wasn't there.

Both of you finally reached an agreement. You recognized that you needed his help, and he was aware that he had to be responsible for the situation. You moved in with Javier so you wouldn't have to waste money paying rent. Moreover, you would return to the US when you were seven months pregnant. He would conclude his duty in Colombia however long it took. Neither of you wanted to talk about what would happen then.

Your belly was now thirteen weeks along. Soon, Javier found his place filled with baby stuff. Every day he discovered something new you had bought: tiny clothes, maternity clothing, maternity books. His bathroom smelled like the body cream you used to apply on your belly, and there was a list of pregnancy-friendly foods hung on the refrigerator. He could tell you were putting your heart into preparing for the baby, and at times he felt guilty for not being able to find his own paternal instinct.

On the contrary, you were caught in a fragile rhythm. He continued his dangerous work, and you dedicated yourself to your work at school.

Nights were still lonely, but at least you had your baby. You talked and sang to them. You applied anti-stretch mark creams to your belly, and read everything about babies and labor. You were excited to meet your baby boy or girl, but sadly, at the same time, you felt heartbroken because you loved Javier, and you wished he was more present during the process. However, you had to accept that it wasn't mutual. He didn't love you; he never truly did and probably never would. He just liked to fuck. You should have known it before. Maybe you did, but you were so in love with him that you thought you could change him. Either way, it was too late now.

Javier gave you more money than you needed to cover everything you needed. He never said no when you told him you needed medicine, to pay for a doctor's appointment, or special food that didn't provoke nausea.

But he never went to those appointments with you. He never asked how they went, either. He never showed any interest in the progress of your pregnancy. It was as if he had completely detached himself from the situation, leaving you to navigate the journey alone.

Or at least, that was how you saw it. The truth was, Javier was having a difficult time processing the fact that he would be a father. He had never seen himself getting married, let alone having children.

Furthermore, there was something terrifying about having a baby in Colombia during the war he was fighting. He had witnessed men fall, leaving widows and orphans behind.

He realized that he was more scared of leaving you and his child alone in this chaotic and unfair world if something happened to him. Or worse, he feared that you have to pay for his sins and mistakes. He couldn't bear the thought of that, and he often had nightmares about losing you both.

He didn't know how to express his feelings for you. He couldn't let himself relax and just settle into the nest with you.

One of those nights, when he decided to come home earlier after work, he found you sleeping in bed. You had an open book beside you on a page about what to expect during the second trimester. You had fallen asleep in an awkward position, so he had to gently wake you up to help you move into a more comfortable one. You mumbled in your sleep, calling his name softly and sweetly. Javier felt warmth in his chest, a need to cuddle with you, touch your belly for the first time, and hold you and the baby close.

But he just couldn't do it. He didn't know why, but he couldn't. He limited himself to tucking you in with a warm blanket and opening the window for fresh air, as you liked it. He went to the kitchen, filled a glass with water, and put it on your nightstand because he knew you got thirsty in the middle of the night.

Javier observed you for a moment, peacefully sleeping, carrying his baby. He missed your soft lips and your fingers in his hair. He missed making you laugh and talking to you about each other's days. And now, he longed to make things right and try to win your heart back.

Tomorrow, he said. Turning down the lights, he went to his place on the couch.

But tomorrow was too late.

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

He left early in the morning to attend an emergency meeting at the Embassy. Steve spend all morning complaining about Messina and the tie-and-suit motherfuckers, but Javier's thoughts were on you.

He was lost on his own thoughts, trying to find the right words to tell you. He was still scared, but he was determined to try. To make it work.

He was on his desk, a report on his hands but he wasn't reading it, when his landline rang.

"Peña," he picked up.

"Is this Javier?" a woman's voice asked urgently.

"Who's this?"

"This is María from the school," she said. He immediately knew something was wrong. He barely remembered María, you had presented each other last year on your birthday.

"There's been an emergency," she continued explaining, anguish filling her voice. "She's been taken to the hospital."

Javier's heart dropped. "Is she okay?"

"She collapsed in class. They think it might be related to her pregnancy. You need to get to the hospital as soon as you can."

Javier didn't waste a second. He grabbed his jacket and bolted out of the Embassy, ignoring Steve's confused shouts. The drive to the hospital was a blur, his mind racing with fear.

What happened? You were fine last night... Didn't you? He felt a pang of guilt. What if you didn't felt well but you didn't say anything because you thought he would be mad? Fuck... He should be more available for you. You should trust him.

When he finally arrived at the hospital, he rushed to the reception desk, asking for your name. The nurse nodded and directed him to the emergency room. His heart pounded as he approached the doors, dread settling in his stomach.

He found you lying on a hospital bed, pale and hooked up to monitors. The doctor was speaking to a nurse nearby. Javier's throat tightened as he stepped closer.

The doctor noticed him and approached. "Are you related?"

"Yes, how is she?" Javier asked, his voice shaky.

The doctor sighed. "I'm sorry to inform you, but she lost the baby. There was nothing we could do. It was a miscarriage."

Javier felt like the ground had been ripped out from under him. He looked at your unconscious form, tears welling up in his eyes. "Can I see her?"

"Of course, but she's sleeping right now," the doctor said gently. "She's stable now, but you had to sedate her. This has been very traumatic for her."

Javier nodded and moved to your bedside. He took your hand in his, feeling the weight of his own failures crashing down on him. He had failed to protect you, to be there when you needed him the most.

Hours passed as he sat by your side, holding your hand and watching you sleep. When you finally stirred and opened your eyes, he was there. His eyes were teary, reddened from his contained emotions.

"Hey," he whispered, placing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I'm here," he said, squeezing your hand. "I'm so sorry. I should have been there. I should have done more."

You closed your eyes, tears slipping down your cheeks. "I lost my baby." Your voice was barely a whisper, little sobs escaping your lips. You were still in a haze of sedatives and mourning.

Javier nodded, his heart breaking at the pain in your voice. "I know. I'm so, so sorry."

"No, you don't," you said, hurt and anger painting your weak voice. "You didn't want my baby."

"I was scared," he confessed, his voice cracking. "I didn't know how to handle any of this. But I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted to lose our baby."

You shook your head, tears streaming like rivers down your cheeks. The gaze you gave him was filled with anger and resentment, piercing through his chest.

"Fuck you," you cried.

Javier flinched as if you had struck him. He looked away, unable to bear the intensity of your anger and sorrow.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice barely audible.

"You never be there for us, so don't come and say you're sorry," your words melted into an unstoppable crying. You felt like if your heart would literally broke into a million pieces. Grief and exhaustion weighing heavily on you, you felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness.

"I know I can't make this right. I know I failed you. But please, let me be here for you now," he pleaded, but there was nothing he could say to soothe your unbearable pain.

"You're a piece of shit, Javier," you spat, your voice trembling with anger and grief. "I don't want to see you ever again."

You turned away from him, your tears flowing freely.

He lingered for a moment, hoping for some sign of forgiveness, but when none came, he slowly left the room, closing the door behind him.

He stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall, feeling the crushing weight of his failures. He had lost not only his child but also the trust and love of the woman who meant more to him than he had ever admitted.

Part 2

[spyskrapbook]

"Unité d’Habitation / La Cité Radieuse", 280 Boulevard  Michelet, 13008, Marseille, France [1947-52] _ Architect: Le Corbusier _ Photos by: Spyros Kaprinis [25.05.2024].

"The building takes the form of a housing bar 135 metres long, 24 metres wide, 56 metres high and mounted on stilts. Three hundred and thirty apartments, divided into twenty-three different types, can accommodate a population of between 1,500 and 1,700 occupants having at their disposal on the seventh and eighth floors a shopping street and a hotel-restaurant, together with a kindergarten and sports facilities on the roof terrace. The constructive principle adopted, the so-called “bottle rack”, consists in building apartments inside an independent frame of posts and reinforced concrete beams. The apartments are made up of standard elements assembled on the site. All the apartments are dual-aspect, except those on the south side. A sun-break loggia provides an open-air facility at the same time as limiting exposure to sunlight. Protected by double glazing, the apartment interiors are subject to the two basic rules of naval and monastic architecture: rationalism and simplicity. The living room, open on two levels, is the nucleus of the family “home”; upstairs the parents’ room occupies the mezzanine. The kitchen is equipped like a laboratory: electric cooker, refrigerator, rubbish chute and storage racks. The entire apartment is fitted with racks replacing traditional storage. The ventilation of the kitchen, bathroom and toilets is mechanically operated, while the entire apartment is supplied with clean air by an air conditioning system. These facilities were not found in the low-cost collective housing units of the time, and the standard surface areas of the Unité d’Habitation are greater than these by between 40% and 50%. The seventeen-storeys below the terrace are connected by eight interior streets which, given the overlap of the two-storey apartments, each serve three floors. Each street is accessed by a battery of four elevators complemented by a service elevator and three emergency staircases. The entire building and its equipment are designed in terms of the Modulor, the universal measuring unit conceived by Le Corbusier."

[heylittleriotact]

⚰ＷＩＰ ＷＨＥＮＥＶＥＲ⚰

I've been tagged by @xxnashiraxx and love seeing their work pop up on my dash - thank you <3

The Soup du Jour is... smut! Plotless, pointless, porntacular, horny Emmrook smut.

We've got praise kinks, we've got flashing, we've got grinding, we've got trying-to-distract-this-poor-man-from-his-work, we've got Rook biting off more than she can chew when Emmrich calls her bluff. It is in this piece that I am (ultimately) going to make good on my threat of Emmrich reciting erotic poetry intimately into Rook's ear while he makes deeply passionate love to her, because that idea has lived rent-free in my head for days now and I need to manifest it. But first I need Rook to be a brat, and for Emmrich to... deal with that.

I was having doubts about this one because I am forever afraid of writing OOC, but honestly I'm just trying to chuck it in the fuck it bucket and have fun.

Tagging: @preciouslittlebhaalbae (you have TIME now MWAHAHAHA), @allofthebarks (don't hold out on me), @emmg (I know you're cooking 👀)

Under the cut because it is ✨EXPLICIT✨

𝒱𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃:

A funeral event where the prepared body of the deceased is reposed in the casket (open or closed) so that mourners may pay their respects, say their goodbyes, and grieve communally prior to the formal funeral service.

She knew exactly what she was doing when she pulled on the flimsy little camisole. She had very specific plans in mind when she slipped into the thin leggings that she knew were just a little too tight. There was a distinct reason she had chosen to completely forgo underthings. 

She tied her thick hair into a low bun at the base of her skull so her neck was clearly visible… as was the somewhat faded love bite from their previous encounter - the one that made Lace turn beetroot when she laid eyes on it at breakfast. The one that prompted Taash to reach over the table with a congratulatory high five. Emmrich had coughed awkwardly and subtly adjusted his own collar, clearly hoping the marks Amina had left on his neck in return were concealed.

She padded barefoot down the hallway to the laboratory, stomach fluttering and turning on itself in a not unpleasant way with the sheer anticipation of being in his proximity again. She couldn’t help but be drawn to him - his immense gravity could not be ignored; her need to be near him was insistent. She put little stock in the novelty of fate before Emmrich, but there was no doubt in her mind that there must have been some sort of cosmic ruling in which they were unwittingly sentenced by the stars to find one another. Her belly smouldered at the thought of such a thing… of such belonging.

She knocked gently on the door. “It’s me - may I come in?” 

She didn’t have to wait for an answer, nor did she have to turn the knob herself: she heard a chair scuff over the flagstone, the muffled jingle of gold - a sound that set her heart racing more often than not these days - and the door was flung open. Emmrich stood in the threshold, beaming affectionately down at her. 

“Of course, darling.” He took her hand and pulled her into the room, reaching over her shoulder to shut the door once she was inside. She might have been embarrassed that the sound of the lock clicking behind her made her breath catch solely due to its implication, but she was having a hard time feeling much of anything but barely restrained lust for the man in front of her. 

He drew her in close with an arm around her waist, still holding her hand between them, massaging her palm with his thumb as he bowed his head to kiss her sweetly. Her knees went weak when his lips met hers and his familiar scent filled her nose, rendering her brain incapable of anything other than inwardly chanting the same base sentiment over and over for as long as the kiss lasted: Home! Home! Home! Home! You’re home!

He straightened and looked at her, smiling as though he hadn’t heard the hungry little moan that had slipped from her, nor perceived the way she’d pressed as much of her body against him as she could during their embrace. “How are you today?” He asked, genuinely interested - as always. He knew. Surely he knew that she was positively bursting with need for him.

“Fine,” she breathed, returning the smile, watching as he started back towards the desk that was covered with books, inkpots, and parchment. “I’m well, thank you. Just thought I’d come say hello, see what you’re up to.”  

He pulled a chair over to the opposite side of the desk for her to sit on. She opted to remain standing instead, her eyes flitted over the pages of drying ink spread over the desk. 

“More letters home?” She waited until he was settled in his chair again, the quill back in his hand, and she bent at the waist to take a closer look at a recent anatomical drawing he’d completed. She could feel the cozy heat of the laboratory caress the exposed peaks of her breasts as the insubstantial shirt draped downward, offering a generous eyeful to anyone who might be sitting directly across from her. 

Her eyes flicked up from the drawing when Emmrich didn’t answer right away, a clever smile pulling at the corners of her mouth when she caught him red-handed; his eyes locked on the dainty swell of her breasts. 

He came to his senses when he felt her eyes on him and he comprehended the coquettish smirk on her face. “Yes.” He licked his lips. “Yes. Maintaining alliships and channels of communication is vital as we draw closer to our confrontation with the gods.” He swallowed and smiled again as Amina straightened and rounded the desk, settling against the wood on his side now.

“A fine plan,” she concurred, leaning back on her hands, her very visible nipples more or less eye level for the handsome academic to admire. “I hope I’m not distracting you: it’s so rare that I get a few hours to just relax these days.” She made a bit of a show of tilting her chin up and slowly rolling her head from side to side, stretching out the muscles of her neck and making sure Emmrich could see the soft plum-tinted bloom of colour he’d imparted on her skin as he sent her over the edge with his name on her lips, buried to the hilt between her legs as she clenched hard around him, her fingers curled tightly in his soft, thick hair. ‘You are incredible, darling,’ he had sighed against her tingling skin afterwards when they were little more than a tangled, panting heap of limbs. It had taken a good hour after that before she could walk again…

Amina squirmed against the desk a little at the thought, aware of the burgeoning wetness that was accumulating at the juncture of her thighs. 

Somehow Emmrich managed to maintain the discipline required to look back at the letter he was working on, his lips curling quaintly. “Not at all, my dear - quite the contrary in fact: I’m so glad that you’re finally taking some time to look after yourself.” He dipped the quill, tapped it once, twice, and then brought it to the paper.

She observed him in silence until he seemingly made peace with the fact that she was not going to sit on the chair he’d brought over for her, and instead pushed his own back slightly, pulling her down onto his lap where she perched gleefully, having gotten what she wanted. 

“I must concede that you are somewhat distracting, so I will need your assistance in proofreading these before they’re sent out - I do have an academic reputation to maintain, regardless of the beautiful woman on my knee.” 

“Is that so?” Amina purred, nuzzling into his neck, her lips barely ghosting over his skin that smelled organic and clean - crisp soap and freshly cut sage… a lingering hint of pipe tobacco and expensive brandy. 

Oh yes, she was going to be one hell of a distraction…

“She sounds like a real piece of work, this woman. It’s a marvel that you get anything done at all with her around.” She tilted her hips ever so slightly. Not enough for it to be claimed that she was trying to get a rise out of him, but enough so that the fingernails of his left hand dug into her side a little where he gripped her. A pleased smile took her lips at the feeling of him against her, already half hard: he could pretend to be aloof and composed all he liked, but she knew that there was only one possible outcome for this encounter. 

“I was just having a similar thought, as it turns out,” he murmured, breath catching slightly when Amina ground against him more deliberately this time. “She’s cornered me in my laboratory no fewer than three times this week, you see: my productivity has utterly plummeted.”

The way he whispered those words, his voice so sinful and cunning…

“Oh dear…” Amina tutted. “Well we can’t have that now, can we?” She moved to slide from his lap, fully prepared to at least pretend that she cared a whit about Emmrich’s ‘productivity’ of late. 

He held her fast though, keeping her on his lap with his hands and arms, and the sheer fact of his existence alone. She rewarded him with a satisfied hum and another agonizingly slow roll of her hips, suspecting that she was probably beginning to soak through her thin pants.

His hand dropped from her waist to her thigh and he palmed the expanse of hard muscle there, dragging his fingers towards her hip as he leaned forward and his hot breath washed over the sensitive shell of her ear, driving a small gasp from her as she flinched in his grasp: he had not been idly boasting during that dinner date about his anatomical prowess.

“I fear I wouldn’t have it any other way…” he confided, those artful, nimble fingers of his straying to her waistband and slipping beneath it. He sharply inhaled through his teeth and uttered a soft ‘oh’ when he found her waiting for him, slick and needy. There was a slight tremor in his voice when he said, “She is intoxicating, you see…”

She moaned encouragingly as he swirled a finger through her, clearly enjoying the experience of her arousal alone: she could distinctly feel his hardness against her rear now.

Oh how she longed to ravish him - ride him to completion on this very chair, or on the floor perhaps. Maybe against one of the many bookshelves that lined the room - they had dallied against one the week before, her leg hitched up around his thin waist, pulling him deeper as he set a pace that stole her breath from her lungs and hit angles that caused her to see stars. 

Or she could bend over the railing of the balcony upstairs and feign interest in the curious nature of their environs while he slammed into her over and over again, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips… 

Of course there had been the rather awkward instance a few days earlier where Manfred had wandered in on them both in a state of partial undress: Emmrich’s waistcoat hanging open, Amina dragging her hands through his hair, her own shirt piled in a careless heap on the floor nearby and Emmrich’s hand down her pants as she tried to kick off her high-heeled lilac slippers without removing her lips from his skin. Manfred had launched himself between the two of them with a consternated hiss, clearly interpreting their entanglement to mean they were fighting instead of well… the other thing. The following day, Emmrich gave his first in a series of many lectures to Manfred about the birds and the bees - and reiterated the invaluable virtue of always knocking before entering a room that might have someone else in it.

She was snapped from her musing at the sublime sensation of Emmrich’s finger dragging along the ridges of her walls as he slid the digit inside of her. She let out a small gasp at the intrusion and reflexively clenched around it, hips rocking against his once more. 

“... but I really must finish these letters.” There was a playful, coy edge to his voice as he slowly withdrew his finger and slowly pushed it back in. “This striking woman of mine will need to exercise patience today, it seems…”

Something about being his striking woman in particular sent a jolt of arousal straight through her very soul. She could feel the cool metal of his rings against her feverish skin as he cupped her sex, his thumb brushing almost tauntingly over her aching clit. 

“Please, Emmrich…” she whined, arching up into his touch, making her need plain. 

The demonstration of manners earned her a second finger, but her lover did not deviate from his task as he leaned forward, dipped the quill, and began to write once more. “In good time, my precious love,” he soothed. “Try to relax for the time being - I shan’t take long.” 

“It feels so good though…” 

“That’s wonderful, darling - I want you to feel good.” 

She fell silent, the wind in the sails of her desire to argue stilling as she let her head fall against the back of the chair and closed her eyes, allowing herself to exist in the moment - holding on tight to every emphatic response of her nervous system as Emmrich touched her with a capable familiarity that suggested he’d touched her a thousand times before; the erotic symphony of the quill scratching over the parchment mingled with the sound of his fingers moving within her… her breathy moans… his many bangles shifting gently with each purposeful gesture…

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured eventually - she had lost track of time - kissing her shoulder before returning to the letter. He had to be nearly done, hadn’t he? “So good for me… my sweet Amina…”

She whimpered at his words - the reverent praise tolling something deep within her that was starved and lonely. She writhed on his thigh as he placed tender kisses all over her cheek and crooked his fingers, stroking that euphoric place inside of her that made cognizant thought impossible and made her thighs tremble like she’d been in the training hall all day. He took her apart slowly, casually… effortlessly, and before long she was fluttering around him, cheeks and lips flushed a delicate pink, staring down an orgasm that was about to be everyone in the building’s business - she could feel it: the deep fire in her belly roiling and twisting on itself, going taut, so tense and eager that one more touch could snap it, yielding the most decadent release…

And then he was gone, the absence of his touch keenly felt as her walls flexed and tensed around the sudden nothingness. 

She glowered at him, though her stomach flip-flopped enthusiastically as she watched him taste her on his slender fingers with a dignified poise she should have expected. “That was cruel.”

“Is it cruel to strive to linger in a garden of untold majesty forever, even knowing forever is unobtainable?” He stroked those same fingers gently over her lips and she caught the tip of one between her teeth, flicking the very tip of her tongue over the fleshy pad of it. “I want to savour you, my dear.” He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled her scent. “Let me take my time.”

[hollyhomburg]

Prey Animals (9)

—  Pairing: Yoongi x reader, Bts x reader

—  Genre: Omegaverse, Mafia au, Polyamory au, Found family, Suspense, Eventual Smut, enemies to friends to lovers, Healing & Themes of trauma,

—  Summary: In a world where Beta's are rare, valuable, and often have more than one pack; Beta Min Yoongi does everything he can to keep his mafia heritage a secret from his primary pack. Little does he know he's not the only one who's living a double life.

—  Words: 4.6k

—  Warnings: Implied clothing control, Physical abuse, Implied eating disorder, Talks of violence, Discussed spousal abuse.

—  Check in at the end for my notes on this chapter! — 

(108 days before, Yoongi)

You can’t hide all of it.

That Is what Yoongi realizes when he attends the next family dinner. It’s a more casual affair than the last one, hosted not at the Don’s ex residence, but on Moon family grounds.  

It’s a catered affair. White suit coated attendants wear red bolo ties, and the steak is served bloody.

It’s not a full celebration because there is still the matter of Jongho’s death. Expressed with condolences that seem rather hollow, seeing as Choi senior is not in attendance. Still out hunting down his son’s killers and searching through dead end leads.

The service had been neat and tidy even Yoongi had not been invited to attend. No one had beyond the Choi inner circle had. The casket closed.

The dinner is sparsely attended, barely more than thirty people. Roll is not called, there is no red carpet or lavish decorations.

The moon family home is a constellation of purple and black velvet. Dark patterned walls neither modern nor mid-century. Great big bouquets of purple roses and purple tulips litter the tables, allowed during Hors d’oeuvres and then taken away for the main course.

Although Yoongi knows that Moonbyul’s- unlike most of the family has a multi person pack (three omega’s), only her mate, the one who wears her bite mark on her throat, is there to welcome guests. Yoongi wonders where the others are. Upstairs probably, locked away from all this bloodshed. Kept safe or kept locked up away from prying eyes, who really knows?

Yoongi can’t say he doesn’t understand the impulse. He’s never met Moonbyul’s other two packmates before, but he knows they’re both omega’s. Moonbyul’s pack is one of the more typical ones; One alpha with three omegas’ to choose from is every alpha’s wet dream.

The moon family has always done well for themselves. Trafficking in diamonds both bloody and clean, real and impressively fake. Having figured out a method of creating lab diamonds without any signature and efficient at passing them off as the real thing. Their business has earned the family quite the fortune. Other families have been after the secret for years. Even Yoongi doesn’t know the location of Moonbyul’s laboratories. No doubt kept under lock and key.  

Moonbyul’s omega is similarly adorned with the kind of things that glitter, blinding to look at. The jewelry that Yoongi had so teased you for looks only dim in comparison. Yoongi has nothing against Hyejin, he might not know her well but…

You by comparison, are resplendent.

The dress code for this evening is velvet, much like the kind that line the inside of jewelry boxes. Many of the alpha’s have taken to dark velvet suits, the kind that makes diamonds stand out- and so has Hyejin. Your dress is lighter in color and more in line with the other omega’s. Off white, a silk corset tightly tied to offset your billowing velvet skirt and skyscraper high heels. Black velvet gloves that go up to your elbow.

Although you can hide the rest of the bruises on your face with makeup, what you cannot hide are the two stitches over one eyebrow. Small and dark, covered with a barely perceptible suture, the makeup dotted over top only makes it more noticeable. A bit of blood at the center, not enough to threaten a bleed, but too much to escape notice.

Yoongi knows what it’s from. The other night when Geumjae pushed you into the car without worrying about your face.

Yoongi sees you cling to Geumjae’s arm, more out of necessity than actual want. Your heels are so high- anyone would have trouble walking in them. Geumjae just smirks. All of them omega’s are delicate and dainty with their white getups, but Yoongi’s own dark three pieces suit feels stifling.

Yoongi watches you pick at your food through the whole of dinner. Not once does he see you lift your fork to your mouth and eat.

~-~

There Is a pause between the first course and the second where the omega’s head to the powder room to correct their makeup and the alpha’s head upstairs to partake in Moonbyul’s less…pedestrian delights.

Moonbyul’s omega tucks her elbow through yours and leads you there, faster than Yoongi can catch up to you, dragged into some conversation- an alpha asking for his advice on this and that. You cast one glance back, not at Yoongi, but at Geumjae. Already following the other alpha’s up to the parlor room.

Its decadently decorated with green velvet and dark leather couches, nooks and a fully functioning bar that serves Macallan by the glass and not the shot. There are dark nooks here and there, pairs of alphas in booths. It’s practically a private gentleman’s club.

Yoongi corners Geumjae in one of those booths, pulling half the red velvet curtain shut to give them both a modicum of privacy. He's already got a full glass of whiskey Infront of him, but Yoongi watches, vocalizes it, even though he probably shouldn’t.

He can’t let the bruises on your body slide; can’t let it go without at least trying. Maybe he should have thought better of it and shouldn’t confront Geumjae out of fear for what it might bring back on you.  But that the whole family surely knows about it, the abuse he’s putting through, they must know and they probably don’t care.

The stitches in your eyebrow…If that’s what Geumjae gives you for being late, for being out past a certain hour, he can’t imagine what the rest of your life is like. Yoongi can’t do nothing.

Predictably- he dismisses Yoongi’s concern. Laughing at his carefully worded chiding.

“She’s just an omega- you know how they are. They need a firm hand to keep them in their place.”

Yoongi bites back a scoff. Thinking of Jin and Jungkook and how little that applies to them. Anyone who even dared to insinuate that it’s Jin who needs the firm hand in their relationship would surely find their world view upended. 

He watches Geumjae cut another line of cocaine. The amount of drugs in this study cost enough to feed a small family for a year. But Yoongi knows better than to partake. He needs to keep his mind clear. He doesn’t even drink. He pretends to take a bump and taps it off onto the floor when Geumjae tips back another swallow of the whiskey.

“Omegas aren’t even fucking worth it if you ask me brother, you’re supposed to give half yourself away and for fucking what? A glorified bed warmer?”

Yoongi boils and stays silent, letting Geumjae get himself wasted on drugs and alcohol. Pupils slowly turning glassy and wide. He can’t tell what distresses him more; that Geumjae has such little regard for life that he can’t recognize that omegas are fucking people or that he’s so freely sharing this with Yoongi. 

He knows he’s toeing the line. More pushing might hurt you more. Yoongi can’t imagine wanting to hurt someone he loves or speaking with the same callousness that Geumjae speaks. “Don’t you love her?”

Geumjae laughs at Yoongi, loud enough to draw attention of the others. “Oh little brother, don’t you know yet that love makes you stupid?”

Yoongi sighs, tired of this conversation already. Barely resisting giving back a retort. But those threats from the funeral linger. And it’s not only your life and Yoongi’s at stake here but the rest of his pack. He has to fool Geumjae into thinking he is on his side. 

“Work with me here- what will the other omegas in the pack think if they find out what kind of shit you pull? And they’ll take their concerns straight to their alphas and say you’re unfit to lead out of fear that one day, their wives and husbands will do the same to them. You know I have to listen to the bulk of them regardless of what you want.”

If he can’t appeal to Geumjae’s humanity- he can at least appeal to Geumjae’s self-interest and common sense. His image in the family is arguably the most important thing in Geumjae’s mind, and Yoongi can tell by the way that Geumjae sits back when he says the words that at least some of it has stuck.

Geumjae might have been trained in torture, but Yoongi was trained in talking people through problems, to manipulate them to do his bidding and convince them it's of their own free will.

Another alpha joins them in the booth, and Geumjae is only too happy to offer the youngster (hardly 16) a line of cocaine. Geumjae just shrugs at Yoongi, and he can practically hear him.

What? It’s good for business.

Yoongi doesn’t know what kind of deal he has with the Miyazato family to personally supply him with the good stuff, but Geumjae has more than enough for every alpha in the Den. (The Miyazato family is one of the few family groups that traffics only in one specific sort of drug, fentanyl and cocaine) Maybe Geumjae gives them cheap firearms if they pass on a brick of the good stuff to him.

One of the other nearby alphas leans over, slaps Geumjae on the shoulder, they haven’t been completely secretive here. “At least your wife is pretty- my old hag doesn’t even bother to put on makeup, yours is pretty good at it.”

Geumjae tips his head back. “You’re right about that, at least she’s pretty.” Geumjae leans forward, pupils blown, gesturing wildly. “Now if only I could get her to shut the fuck up-” they laugh boisterously and Yoongi stays silent, hand tight on his knee under the table.

As quick as the alpha pipes in, he’s dragged away by the appearance of Moonbyul carrying a dark case, not full of diamonds but expensive Cuban cigars that fill the room with sweet smoke. The alpha’s gather around the box and Moonbyul hands out her party favors.

“If beauty is what you value why do you mar her face so casually?”

Geumjae shrugs as someone hands him a cigar. Yoongi declines his. “There’s always plastic surgery, I don’t mind paying for that. She’s already been through her first round of modifications anyway. She’s overdue for a few more. And-” He lights it, spitting out smoke.

Yoongi’s mouth goes dry. Geumjae sips at his whiskey. The ice clinking. “You assume that her beauty is her most dangerous quality” Geumjae jabs a finger at him. “You know nothing about my wife brother. It’s not surprising to me that she’s managed to sink her teeth into you already.”

“She’s practically a child.”

Geumjae scoffs, “She’s of age. Was when we married, if you’re that concerned about her non-existent virtue. A word of advice brother-” Geumjae sips his drink again before he drags Yoongi in, his breath smells like whiskey and ashes. His hand on the back of his neck forcing him in. Yoongi tries to pull back. But can’t manage it, Geumjae is stronger than Yoongi because he’s an alpha.  His lips brush Yoongi’s ear and Yoongi wants to vomit. He tries to recoil, but Geumjae doesn't let him.

“Asking a pretty woman not to have an ulterior motive is like asking a dog not to bite. It may or may not be in their nature; but it is certainly what they’ve been trained for.”

The others file out and Geumjae goes with them. The promise of a new shiny toy in the garage draws alpha's in like flies to honey. A car that like the woman downstairs, is one in a million.

In the darkness of the den room, Yoongi watches Moonbyul pour herself her own glass. Yoongi turns to the side of the booth, resting his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Moonbyul notices his distress. Takes the last cigar from the box and offers it to him.

Yoongi shakes his head. She shrugs and proceeds to light it with a zippo from inside her coat pocket. She leaves the zippo lighter burning on the bar top. The flame flickering back and forth with the draft in this house.

"Tell me cousin, do you know the difference between villains and hero’s"

Yoongi rolls his eyes at her theatrics and lets the silence hover.

"Villains need to kill millions to gain infamy, a Hero need only kill one." She puffs on her cigar, getting it going. It looks comically large for such a small woman. "Don't let your fear of becoming a villain keep you from being a hero."

Moonbyul shuts the lighter with a metallic clink and the flame is gone in an instant.

~-~ `

Yoongi toes down the wide curved staircase, trying to delay his return to the others as long possible. The last of the omega’s exits the foyer, heading back into the dining room with a cluster of whispered giggles. The crushed velvet flooring makes the sound of his footsteps nonexistent, gathering his thoughts. He passes by the powder room door, still lit inside, the honey light spilling onto the steps.

He doesn’t mean to overhear.

“Are you sure you’re alright pup?”

You say something soft, that Yoongi cannot hear you, he can’t even see you. Hyejin says something back and your reply, sounding breathless but confident. “You go down first; I’ll be there in a moment.” When Hyejin leaves, she doesn’t see Yoongi, standing there half in shadow. But Yoongi sees her pluck a napkin out of one of the attendants pockets on the way down the steps. Watches her wipe something red from her fingers and hand it to them.

Any other omega might have thrown it onto the ground just to watch the staff pick it up. Yoongi adds it to his mental tally.

Yoongi steps into the light of the doorway the same second you exit the powder room, a bright lit up space, the only spot that’s pastel. Your lipstick Is not smudged at the corner, in contrast, it looks perfectly applied. You teeter, taking a step back. Letting out a surprised “oh!”

Yoongi takes a step back onto the landing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Yoongi can’t help but think that you do that, startle easily. He wonders why that might be. You hold your hand over your chest and don’t say anything. You can hear the omegas and the grannies gossiping in the kitchen. Half of the alpha’s from upstairs have disappeared to smoke their cigars outside and appreciate a new Rolls Royce that one of the uncles bought out front. The wide windows are open but threatening. Anyone could look inside and see both of you standing here on the steps. The fountain outside on the cobblestone driveway gives a distant gurgle.

You both occupy the space. Neither of you steps away from the other for a moment.

The corset portion of your dress makes your chest soft-looking, plump, and inviting- if Yoongi was the kind of man to get distracted by something like that. All he notices is how it’s making your chest heave. Breath uneven, he thinks he can hear the boning in the dress creek. It’s a designer thing, but it looks too tight on you. He can tell how uncomfortable you are. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, though it’s clear you’re not, you don’t reply, looking down and away worried. Yoongi thinks you are, but the next second you’re scrabbling, reaching out to grab the Bannister, he catches you, hands going around your waist. “Shit- hey- what’s-” Your breath heaves.

Your collar bones are sharp looking and delicate. You’re wearing a small necklace, not gaudy but certainly sparkly. A diamond. Somewhere between pink and purple. It’s too dainty to be a gift from your husband.

“My dress, it’s-” you gasp, reaching behind you. Scrabbling for the ties there. “He did my corset too tight; it’s hurting my ribs. I’m going to pass out-”

Yoongi quickly looks around, but there is no one around in the part of the house right now, you’re alone. The attendant on the bottom of the steps has his back turned. He turns you around until you’re grabbing the railing, knuckles going white as you grip it hard.

He undoes the top knot of the dress with a harsh yank, and you inhale gratefully, gasping as he tugs at the strings looser, fingers touching your bare skin. “Oh, thank you- ah-” you hold yourself up via the railing of the staircase and Yoongi continues to loosen it. Tugging at the white ribbon tie until you touch your waist, inhaling gratefully. “I fucking hate corsets- how did people wear them for like a hundred years.”

“Is that better?” He has to be quick. This isn’t exactly scandalous but it’s not quite proper. He ties it back up in bow, different than the knot that was tied before, an ineffectual tangled sailors knot (tied so similar to a noose that it almost looked suspicious.

Yoongi’s hands hover on the bare skin of your back. You have freckles here; he wonders if you know. His finger hides a beauty mark. His fingers touch the bare skin of your back. Warm.

You stand up straight, and Yoongi snaps his hand away from your skin like it’s burned him.  You go a little stiff, and Yoongi steps back from behind you so that he can turn. “Sorry, I didn’t mean too.”

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, watching him with more suspicion than he likes.

Luckily, downstairs, the bell rings for the second course, and both of you have an excuse to make haste, making it to the foyer the same second that Geumjae comes in from outside in a cloud of smoke.

~-~

For the rest of the evening. Geumjae has the good sense to act softer with you in front of the rest of the family. But Yoongi fears he might have done more bad than good.

There is subtext to everything.

You spend the rest of the dinner with your gaze downturned at the food. You’re sensitive about eye contact, Yoongi gets it; You don’t have as much control over your facial expression as the rest of these robotic mobsters.  

More than once. Geumjae catches him staring at you. You look so much more comfortable now that it’s been loosened. Your hand hovering in front of your dress to conceal your cleavage under the guise of fiddling with your necklace. During those moments, Geumjae rewards Yoongi’s wandering gaze with bold touches. A hand sliding from waist to hip.

Only Yoongi notices how you suddenly straighten up in pain. 

Geumjae’s harsh fingers dig into a bad bruise on your hip. You’re so trained, you barely flinch when he does it. And still- Yoongi’s hands tighten on his knife. He tries to stomach the wagyu Infront of him. The Moon’s like their flesh raw. He grits his teeth and chews hard to stop himself from making a scene and reaching across the table to stop Geumjae from hurting you.

Many of the other members of the family notice Geumjae’s sudden affection. The way that he pulls you to sit on his lap when the hour grows late and Moonbyul’s liquor storage has been significantly depleted. The curious looks from the others confirm what Yoongi has always suspected; that most of the time; your presence at family dinners has been seen and not heard.

He’d never given you much attention at these family meals, at least not before Yoongi came with his wandering eyes.

Geumjae meets Yoongi’s gaze with a challenge in his eyes.

Yoongi keeps his eyes firmly trained on his plate full of spiced soft-shelled crab as one of the grannies comments on how sweet the two of you seem. Yoongi wants to gag. “You know how new love is. I feel like we’ll be in the honeymoon phase forever.”

Yoongi watches as Geumjae’s hand slides up your thigh, you stop him, softly chiding. “Jae.” Most people at the table are on their 5th or 6th glass of wine. He’s not the only alpha drunk and handsy. But Geumjae just smiles, hooking his chin over your shoulder and grinning at you. Nuzzling into your temple. Your stitches. His hand comes up to play with the bow at the back of your dress. You look so small perched on his thigh.

“I want her all to myself so bad I think she’s worried I’ll chain her to my bed” he says- feigning drunkenness. You laugh too- trying to play it off but Yoongi can see your barely concealed fear.

He’s not the only one who notices how uncomfortable you are either; Hyejin also looks at you more than she should. Measuring your wellbeing with every long searching look. Her gaze stays on you for a good long while before flickering to Yoongi.

Yoongi see’s Geumjae smile at her. It’s not a kind or happy gesture, showing his teeth an inch away from snapping at her.

Moonbyul, sat at the head of the table clearly notices, sipping on her wine and picking at her food. Coolly leveling Geumjae with a challenging look. She doesn’t instigate a fight at the obvious show of aggression directed at her omega. While others might see that as weak Yoongi sees it as a remarkable show of restraint. No need to engage with such childishness here.

Yoongi puts his fork down and declines desert.

~-~

Yoongi takes his suit off at the first available opportunity, heading to the cottage to change before he’s called out again. He tries to stop himself from hoping when his phone lights up just after dinner, sitting on the kitchen table in the cottage. Next to your scarf sitting there still. Yoongi hasn’t figured out what to do with it.  

He’s disappointed when he reads the text and sees that it’s not you. He had sort of hoped that you’d text him after dinner, that you’d tell him that you’re alright. Anything. Maybe sent him a picture of you flipping off your dress or something. Yoongi’s not yet sure why he cares, why he’s worried. He shouldn’t be getting involved with this, he should just coast through the next hundred days or so, make his selection and bounce back to the pack to grovel.

But it’s not you whose texting him, it’s just one of his family members who’s in his part of town and wants to go out for drinks.

 Disappointment clings to him, making him feel grimy and slimy. It’s not one of the cousins who is in line for the throne so Yoongi’s not too worried about being pitched so late in the evening. Or dealing with the mental headache of dodging indirect questions about if he’s chosen someone for succession yet.

In all likelihood, they probably just want to bitch at Yoongi about one thing or another. There aren’t many safe confidants in the family. And Yoongi gets paid because he’s sort of the mafias therapist.

He wishes he could ask Jin for some tips when a few hours later he’s got an omega crying into his shoulder, drunk off his ass. It’s good to reconnect with them and the rest of his family. To reconnect names to long forgotten faces made fuzzy by the inelegance of memory. To remember that not all of them are outright evil.

That Yoongi too, is not a Villain, even though he’s not actively trying to take them down.

He doesn’t get drunk- not even close. He’s not stupid. He drinks an overpriced mocktail. It’s not until he’s nearly home that he recognizes the empty weight in his pockets. That’s funny- his wallets still there- but his phone isn’t. Not usual for a pickpocket.

Maybe he just left it back at the cottage.

None of the locks are sabotaged and nothing is out of place. His phone is sitting on the bedspread where he left it. Yoongi would chalk it up to his own forgetfulness if there weren’t a bullet hole clean through the top corner. The screen twitches with green and black, destroyed.

There is a white velvet ribbon looped through the hole and tied with a bow.

Yoongi only saw it once, only touched it once, but he recognizes the tie to your corset, the same ribbons he pulled to let you breathe just hours ago. Tied in a neat little bow, just like he left them.

Yoongi fingers the hole. The phone is as good as a paperweight now. When He turns it over. There is a sticky note on the front. It only says a few words, but they make Yoongi’s blood go cold regardless.

‘Someone named Namjoon called and he wants you home. We want you to leave too’

It’s been years but Yoongi still recognizes Geumjae’s handwriting.

There’s a little bit of blood on the end of the white ribbon, and when he lifts it to his nose- he smells your fresh rain scent, colder than ever, and twinged with something that Yoongi might recognize as fear. Not even a hint of sweetness. 

People’s secondary scents are usually harsh and acrid- meant to draw in one’s pack members out of concern. To communicate to others that you’re in distress without having to say it. Like Yoongi, chocolate when happy and sea salt when angry. Most people hover somewhere around the middle between the two normally.

Yoongi has never smelled something from you other than the rain. He wonders what you smell like when you’re happy and truly comfortable. He wonders if he’ll ever get to smell it. Are you all rainstorms and thunder, or is there something sweeter that you’re capable of? 

What are you like when you’re happy and not just afraid?

~-~

(Read the first Version of this story Here)

Notes:

- I will totally explain why Jongho was killed, HOWEVER it is very very spoilery if you haven’t’ read through the Og version of bily, but send me an ask about it and i will tell you.

- I think the reason why the m/c doesn’t eat in this section of the story is actually not for any ed reasons (although she definitely already has an ed when Yoongi meets her) but it is because Geumjae has literally done up her corset so tight that she can’t even fit a deep breath in her, let alone a bite of food. She is very near to damaging her ribs.

- You should know that Macallan is like minimum 2.5k a bottle, the kind that I think that they’re drinking in this is probably their single malt that’s about 10k a bottle/1k a glass or something like that. Moonbyul is a bougie bitch.

- (SPOILERS) I highly suspect that Geumjae at least knew/suspected that the m/c had a hand in killing the don and beta. I don’t know how he sort of figured it out. But rest assured that’s what he’s referencing when he tells Yoongi to be wary of her ulterior motives.

- I feel like in the OG version of the story, I never really gave Geumjae a personality, but I truly think that with this version, I’ve done a better job of making him a compelling villain, we also get to see a lot more of Moonbyul earlier!

- It’s not actually about the m/c speaking, it’s about control. If she wants to speak, Geumjae will tell her to shut up, if she wants to be quiet, then he’s willing to do /anything/ to get her to make a sound.

- I feel like this is one of the few chapters that like- fully leans into the mafia persona and the mafia au, the aesthetic here is so pretty and I really like some of the details. I hope you can picture it as well as I can!

-incase it wasn't clear, the neclace that the m/c is wearing was a gift from Moonbyul. just another thing that seems a bit on the nose but i want to make sure that you keep track of these little details.

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[fatehbaz]

hello fatehbaz dot tumblr dot com, I seem to recall that years ago you posted an article or articles about the construction of canals in Arizona & the threat it posed to desert cienegas. I tried finding it on your archive to no avail. I did find research about similar circumstances in chihuahua, but not specifically what you posted. i seem to recall that the specific canal was the CAP. does this ring any bells?

Thank you for sticking around and tolerating me for such a long time. Glad you're here. And thank you for remembering the posts (from August 2020) about Cuatro Cienegas in the Chihuahuan Desert.

---

Thinking of Arizona specifically, what you described sounds similar to an August 2022 post about ephemeral intermittent streams of the Agua Fria and canals to service Prescott/Phoenix? (Briefly describes progression from early water diversion to grow alfalfa for cattle; then the damming of Agua Fria to make reservoir in 1930s; then the construction of 16 copper mines. Cites an article from Rachel Howard at Edge Effects: "The history of the Agua Fria can be read not so much as a warning but rather a symbol of what happens to small bodies of water in Arizona. This is the state of the five Cs: cotton, copper, cattle, citrus, and climate.")

---

From August 2020, might be thinking of this post about the unique endemic Yaqui catfish, an icon of the desert; post described the drying of cienegas (and how the fish is functionally extinct in the US) due to progression of cattle rangeland, farms, and canal diversion? (About how despite popular conception of the desert as dry, "prior to European colonization, the region supported rich waterways and aquatic communities." Post described how, by the 1880s, to service agriculture, "meandering cienegas" were strongly channelized and became deep-etched arroyos. And by 1960s, the pumping of water had meant most cienegas were gone. And by 2016 it was estimated that maybe only 30 of the fish remained in Arizona, a fish sometimes described as the "only catfish native to US west of the Rockies." Which also brings to mind, for me, the 2016 edition of Inland Fishes of the Greater Southwest: Chronicles of a Vanishing Biota from University of Arizona Press.)

---

Also sounds similar to this one from July 2020? That one was about cienegas in Arizona, specifically the corridor of riparian habitat (cottonwood, mesquite, etc.) along the San Pedro. Post made criticism of Arizona agencies which managed surface water and groundwater separately despite their physical/ecological interconnectivity. Post made mention of Arizona eryngo (Eryngium sparganophyllum), which only survives at three-ish sites specifically at cienegas within borders of Arizona and one site in New Mexico; couple of years after that post, the US federal government formally recognized it as endangered.

---

But in 2020, I also made a series of several posts about Quitobaquito Springs (at Arizona-Mexico border, in the Sonoran Desert) and Indigenous efforts to protect it? (The springs are a rare freshwater ecosystem at Organ Pipe Cactus area. US border wall construction was extracting and pumping vast amounts of water every day. In 2020, major demonstrations were held by Akimel O'odha, Tohono O'odham, and Hia-Ced O'odham. Brings to mind how, in the same area in 2019, Indigenous people brought more widespread attention to how a major global surveillance tech company collaborated with US border security agencies to field-test new a surveillance "command and control center" on Tohono O'odham communities, like a laboratory; the "virtual wall" functions with multiple towers which continuously surveil personal devices, sound, physical movement, etc. In those posts, I also mentioned that the springs at Quitobaquito are also pretty much the only home within US borders to the endangered Sonoyta mud turtle and endangered Sonoyta pupfish. The entire subspecies/lineage of the turtle only lives in maybe 5 sites total.)

---

Somewhat related, also made many posts from 2019 to 2023 about Indigenous protection of Oak Flat Chi-chil Bildagoteel in Arizona?

Regarding more recent irrigation and water loss in Arizona, I've posted about Natalie Koch's work in Arid Empire on the impact of diverting water for alfalfa farms and how current Arizona agencies facilitate the "colonial technologies" and market "the desert as a narrative resource"; she also describes how, in 1940s/1950s, the US State Department had a hand in encouraging international petroleum investors to invest in hundreds of thousands of cattle for dairy farms, a network which still influences much water diversion today. Aside from the Sonoyta mud turtle, also brings to mind threatened amphibians in Arizona related to cienegas, like Sonoran tiger salamander (likes permanent or standing water, estimated to survive in about 50 ponds in Cochise and Santa Cruz counties) and Chiricahua leopard frog (also likes the standing water, which is often diverted for agriculture or overtaken by non-native bullfrogs, estimated to survive in maybe 80 to 100 ponds). (Vaguely related but fun: There were a couple of long effort-posts I did about historical distribution range of American crocodiles in mangroves and coastal marshes on far southern edge of the Sonoran Desert general ecoregion before lower Yaqui river was depleted by agriculture.)

---

Shout-out to Cuatro Cienegas in the Chihuahuan Desert.

An oasis. A "bacterial lost world." About 300 pools. More than 90% dried-up in historic record; agricultural canals drain tens of millions of gallons of water a year. Home to 38-ish endemic animal species. Not one, not two, but three endemic species of turtles: A slider, a softshell (I love softshells), and the planet's only "aquatic" species of box turtle (I also love box turtles). Home to some of planet's only terrestrial or freshwater populations of stromatolites (bacterial mats composing structures reminiscent of Precambrian era; usually found in deep-sea hydrothermal vents, but here have been isolated from the sea for millions of years). Also home to some of planet's highest diversity of Archaea (taxonomic order of lifeforms potentially "older than bacteria"?).

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[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

A lot has happened this week. On Tuesday, April 1st, several hundred people woke up to an email letting us know we’d lost our jobs working for the federal government. I never believed the claims from the administration that it would only be “waste” that would’ve been eliminated, but after the promises that scientists would be safe I didn’t expect to immediately lose my job on a random Tuesday at 5:10 AM. Since that moment, I have cycled through anger and sadness and grief, knowing that what we worked so hard to achieve is gone forever.

I am a West Virginia girl, through and through. I grew up here. I attended West Virginia University for undergrad and my PhD. When I finished my PhD in Immunology and Microbiology in 2021, I immediately started working at CDC NIOSH in Morgantown, as an Associate Service Fellow. NIOSH was founded to understand diseases that were being seen in coal miners, and as a West Virginian the importance of protecting worker safety is something that you understand really young and really personally. I was beyond thrilled to find an opportunity to use my doctoral education in my home state, conducting research that directly benefits American workers and helps our people live safer, healthier lives. I have been with NIOSH since 2021, working in the building every day as a scientist, studying how exposure to particles and microbes interacts with immune systems.

The type of research that we were doing is not being done anywhere else in the world. And now it’s not being done at all.

We were permitted to come in and gather our belongings, but our building is left vacant, and for what? We have backlogs of samples we were unable to process because of purchasing freezes since January. My data, which is really data that belongs to the American people, is sitting in files that I can only assume will be deleted at the earliest convenience of the administration. We are grieving the senseless loss of our laboratory animals, euthanized because we can’t finish studies. Their lives ended without cause, exacting further torment on the scientists that value animal life so deeply, a core principle held in all animal research. The cruelty and waste in the administration’s plan to “reduce redundancy and government waste” is disgusting and offensive.

What scares me now is not my own job security or what’s next for my career. It’s not what happens next for me as an individual, or even the impact on the larger scientific community, but the ripple that will impact every single American and American worker. Without NIOSH to study the effects of occupational safety and health risks or to study the health hazards that appear and grow and evolve every day, who is going to do that? Who is going to care about the American worker in a way that’s not biased by a company’s bottom line? Who is going to certify respirators and masks? We don’t know. And maybe the answer is no one. That is what scares me most.

[Catherine Blackwood]

+

This is so many kinds of devastating and a microcosm of what the 47 crew are doing.

[Rebecca Solnit]