#take a deep breath (the fresher the air the better)

[greensaplinggrace]

You obviously know this is about D*rkling or have you misused tags in other fandoms as well? And I am still better than people condoning child trafficking.

i dont believe in cross-tagging, my friend. i think it's gauche. unfortunately for you i'm the one that made the darkling slander tag on tumblr. if you want a different experience then can i perhaps recommend tiktok? it's a pretty decent hangout for those with no critical thinking skills and the need to argue with thin air. besides, the tumblr slander tag actually has real slander instead of the shallow bs i see antis spew. as if it's my fault i'm better at your jobs than you.

also maybe self-evaluate in regard to the last sentence of your ask. best of luck in therapy!

[on-a-lucky-tide]

The lovely @piranhaincaps shared the above with me, and I... Hng. Nikprice, Nikprice, Nikprice.

It's a quiet summer evening and Nik stumbles across his captain reading about princes and scarlet sails.

cw: none.

Nik finished stacking the dishwasher and stretched his back, hands pressed to the base. The captain's cooking had improved significantly since they had settled in Meols, but he still used every bowl, pan and utensil their small kitchen could stock and the clean up operation was always significant.

The old grandfather clock in the hallway chimed eight o'clock and Nik considered the open backdoor. John had left to water the plants about an hour ago, which meant he had been distracted by something. Nik grabbed his bottle of beer and headed out to make sure he wasn't about to embark on yet another building project.

The summer air was still warm, even though the sun was disappearing on the horizon. Being so close to the Irish sea meant there was always a fresher tang beneath the heat, and Nik drew in a deep breath as he studied their small garden.

John hated neatly trimmed grass, which had surprised Nik given his military background. No, he liked wild flowers that attracted the bees and butterflies, and growing vegetables they could cook. Their garden had ended up a colourful mishmash of organised chaos, both beautiful and utilitarian. Like John. Nik loved it.

But there was no captain toiling amongst the blooms. Instead, he sat on the patio beneath the awning, bare but for his khaki cargo shorts. A cold beer sat on the table next to him, the pint glass glistening with condensation where the summer heat clung to it, and he held a cigar between two fingers, the smoke drifting lazily into the warm ombre of the sky.

John was just as handsome as the day they had met. He had been a sergeant back then, fewer lines, less grey, but the same serious, bright blue eyes he had now as he read the novel propped on one thigh. As they had aged together, those blue eyes had filled with shadows but Nik had fought to make sure they had also filled with laughter in equal measure. His captain deserved that.

Nik wandered over and deposited himself in the second chair, grinning at the title of the novel. "Scarlet Sails. A romance, John," Nik teased.

A Russian classic, and written in its mother tongue. John had started learning Russian when Nik had started courting him, and now that he had retired he was chewing through Russian literature with a voracious appetite. They were a little more highbrow than the Dan Brown and Tom Clancy novels otherwise cluttering their overburdened bookshelves.

"This one better have a happy ending, Nik. The last one ripped my heart out my arsehole," John murmured, pausing to take a drag from his cigar. Nik watched the smoke leave his nose and was reminded of an aging dragon in repose.

"You forget, so many of these tales were written by men surrounded by anger and austerity. It is difficult to write about hope and happiness when you cannot conceive of these things." Nik's bare toes curled against the warm paving beneath them.

John looked up and fixed Nik with narrow eyes. "Is this a bloody tragedy too? You told me it was a fairytale."

"No tragedy, happy ending, I promise. Grin took his characters far away so he did not have to write something... ideologically driven by the realities of the USSR. It is an ending more suited to your tastes."

"Hmm," John grabbed his bookmark - a folded leaflet advertising a nearby fishing hotspot - and let the novel close. "How did you survive in that environment and still," John waved his cigar in a vague circle, "become you."

"Become me?"

Nik liked this game. John found words of an emotional nature challenging, and he flushed red, became flustered, when Nik pressed him. It was like stroking the soft centre of a noble turtle. "Like, you... uh, kind, and... funny."

"Spasibo," Nik replied, with a grin.

"Pozhaluysta." John obscured his flush with a sip from his pint.

"My father travelled around the satellite states a lot. The closer you were to the West, the easier it was to get hold of the music, the stories, the... hope."

"West isn't exactly a bastion of hope itself, mate."

"Da," Nik conceded, "but to a young man full of energy and dreams, the West was like a fairytale in comparison to the Soviet Union, a world so grey that Alexander Grin had to make up a whole new one, without even Russian names, to conceive of happiness and love that was not doomed to tragedy in the end."

John hummed and Nik let the comfortable silence settle as he mulled over Nik's words. A gentle hand found his on the table, battle roughened fingers impossibly tender as they stroked across the back and into his palm. "You're happy here, right?" John asked as they watched a bee hover over a cluster of wild flowers.

"Da, captain," Nik said softly. "I expected a Tolstoy ending, but... this, this is a Grin."

John smiled, his eyes crinkling, his whiskers twitching around his mouth in that mischievous way that Nik adored, and he lifted Nik's knuckles to his lips. Nik 's heart swelled in his chest and he fought the urge to scoop his love from the chair and carry him inside to show him just how happy he was. John rubbed his cheek against Nik's fingers after the kiss, blue eyes lidded, like a large cat scenting his territory, before returning their clasped hands to the table.

Later, when the night was cooler and John had finished his beer, Nik would guide him to their bed and they would make love. Nik would kiss and taste the summer heat on his skin and listen to his voice crack around his name, entreaties sweeter than the words of Tsvetaeva. But, for now, Nik was content to bask in the gentle quiet of their own happy ending.

[s4svnn]

Out of bounds . JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; his love subjected you to the true extent of deception, a merciless lie wrapped in the illusion of paradise, until the truth tore it apart - he was always out of bounds.

↳ Jungkook x reader

↳ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing

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

Chapter Twenty Nine

The morning sunlight poured gently into the room, casting soft, golden rays across the floor as I slowly woke up. A warm, contented smile tugged at my lips as I stretched, the peaceful feeling settling deeper into me with each passing second. My mind immediately drifted back to the night before—the conversation with my mom, the understanding we had reached, and the quiet sense of reconciliation that lingered in the air.

I felt a weight lift from my chest, and for the first time in so long, I realized that the tension between us had been replaced with something lighter, something warmer. The storm had passed, and now there was room for a new kind of peace to grow between us. It was as if we had finally broken down the walls that had been standing between us for years, and the air in the house felt clearer, fresher—like the sun breaking through after a long, cold night.

I lay there for a few moments, eyes closed, savoring the calm. It wasn’t just the relief from last night’s conversation that made me smile—it was the quiet certainty that I was starting to figure things out. The future, though uncertain, didn’t seem so intimidating anymore. I could feel the change in myself. I was ready to move forward. I was ready to do something for myself.

Finally, I pushed the covers back and swung my legs off the side of the bed, the coolness of the floor surprising against the warmth of the blankets. The house was still quiet, with only the soft sounds of my mom moving about downstairs. She was already awake, probably getting ready for her usual routine, but it was too early for much else to be happening. I made my way into the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face, the shock of it waking me up fully. I stared at my reflection for a moment—my hair a little messy, eyes still holding traces of sleep—but I didn’t mind. I felt different. Stronger, even. It was as if something inside me had shifted, and I was finally seeing myself with a new perspective.

I took a few minutes to freshen up, brushing my teeth and running a brush through my hair before pulling on a simple, comfortable outfit—nothing flashy, just something that would keep me at ease as I took on the day. Today was my first day at the café, and despite the nervous flutter in my stomach, there was excitement buried beneath it. I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but I knew I needed this. I wasn’t just looking for a paycheck—I was looking for a way to prove to myself that I could step out of my comfort zone and start something new. I wanted to take control of my own story, and this job, small as it might seem, felt like the perfect place to start.

As I made my way downstairs, I could already smell the comforting scent of breakfast—eggs, toast, the usual morning routine. The house felt calm and warm, and I could hear my mom moving around in the kitchen, the familiar sound of plates clinking against each other. When I entered the kitchen, I was greeted by the sight of her standing at the stove, flipping pancakes. She looked up and smiled warmly, as if she was already proud of me, even though we hadn’t said much about it yet.

“Morning,” I said, my voice still a little thick with sleep but carrying a newfound energy beneath it. I walked over to the table and sat down, feeling a mixture of nervousness and anticipation twist in my stomach.

“Good morning, honey,” she said, setting a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of me. “How’d you sleep?”

I took a deep breath, the weight of the previous day’s emotions still lingering but now paired with a sense of quiet optimism. “I slept okay,” I replied, my voice steadying. “Better than I expected, actually.”

My mom gave me a knowing look, and then, with a gentle smile, she said, “I’m proud of you, you know? For taking this step. It’s not easy, but it’s a good start.”

I smiled back, feeling a lump form in my throat. After everything, hearing her say that meant more than I had expected. It was like the reassurance I didn’t know I needed.

Before I could respond, the sound of the door opening caught my attention. Kayla’s voice, cheerful and teasing as ever, drifted into the room. “So, are you ready for your first day?” She leaned casually against the doorframe of the kitchen, a cup of coffee in hand, a playful grin stretched across her face. She was already dressed and ready to go, her energy a sharp contrast to the nervous energy running through me.

I chuckled, shaking my head. “I think so,” I said, though my voice cracked a little as the nerves crept up again. “I mean, I’m nervous, but... I’m ready.”

Kayla stepped into the room, walking over to where I sat at the table, and handed me the coffee cup she had been holding. “Here,” she said with a wink. “This should help you get started.”

I took the cup from her, the warmth of it grounding me as I sipped. It was exactly what I needed. “Thanks,” I said, feeling the slight jitters in my hands as I tried to steady them around the cup. “I’m just... I don’t know. Nervous about it all.”

Kayla smiled, her eyes full of encouragement. “AJ, you’re going to be great.One step at a time, right? It’s just a coffee shop, but it’s a step forward so you’re on the right path.”

Her words hit me differently today. It wasn’t just the usual pep talk. There was something in the way she said it, the absolute certainty in her voice, that made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I could do this. I could start something new, even if it was small. The first step was always the hardest, but once I took it, I could take on whatever came next.

I looked at her, feeling a sudden rush of gratitude for everything she had been to me. “Thanks, Kayla,” I said softly. “I think I needed to hear that.”

Kayla gave me a thumbs-up and leaned against the counter. “You don’t even have to thank me. I’m just here for the ride. But seriously, you’ve got this.”

At that moment, my mom spoke up from the stove, her voice gentle but firm. “I’m really proud of you, sweetheart. I know this is a big step, but I have no doubt you’ll do great.”

I felt my heart swell at her words. She’d always been there, even when things were hard between us, and hearing her say that meant more than I could put into words.

“Well, go on then,” my mom encouraged, nudging me gently toward the door. “Your first day won’t wait forever.”

I glanced at Kayla, who gave me an encouraging thumbs-up. The nerves were still there, but so was something else—a quiet strength, a certainty that I wasn’t walking this path alone. With my mom’s support and Kayla by my side, I felt ready for whatever came next.

“Okay,” I said, a smile tugging at my lips. “Let’s do this.”

Kayla dropped me off at the corner of the street, giving me a bright, encouraging smile before driving off to her own job. I stood for a moment, watching her car disappear around the corner, and then took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that had returned full force. It was one thing to get the job, but it was another to actually show up. I adjusted the straps of my bag on my shoulder and made my way down the street, the sound of my footsteps quiet against the pavement.

As I reached the café, I could already feel the change in the air. The moment I stepped inside, I was greeted by the soft, welcoming warmth of the place. The café was a cozy little haven tucked away from the busy street, bathed in soft, natural light that filtered through large windows. The walls were a calming pastel pink, with delicate gold accents that gave the space a touch of elegance without feeling too fancy. The furniture was mismatched but in the most charming way—light wooden tables paired with plush chairs in various shades of mint green, soft lavender, and pale blue. There were plants hanging from the ceiling, trailing vines, and little potted flowers scattered on every table. It felt like a place where time slowed down, where you could sit and enjoy the simple pleasure of a cup of coffee without a care in the world.

I stood at the entrance for a moment, completely lost in the beauty of it all. It was the kind of place that looked like it belonged in a dream, the kind of place I had imagined working in, even though I never really thought it would happen. The pastel pink walls made everything feel warm, inviting, and, somehow, peaceful. My eyes swept across the room, taking in every little detail, from the vintage coffee machine sitting proudly on the counter to the chalkboard menu listing an array of delicious drinks and pastries. I could already picture myself here, surrounded by the sweet scent of freshly brewed coffee and the soft hum of quiet conversations.

I spun around in a slow circle, trying to take it all in at once, a small grin forming on my lips. This was it. This was the start of something new. I could feel a sense of pride swelling in my chest, mixed with the last of my nerves. I was finally here, doing something for myself.

But before I could fully process the moment, I was snapped out of my daze by a voice that cut through the air like a knife.

“So, you’re the new girl?”

The voice cut through the soft hum of the café, low and edged with something unreadable. I turned sharply, pulled from my quiet awe at the space around me, and found myself locking eyes with a man who looked nothing like what I’d expected.

He was leaning against the counter with the kind of effortless confidence that only certain people could pull off—like he belonged there but didn’t have to try. His tanned skin was decorated with tattoos that wrapped around his neck and stretched onto his right hand, barely visible under the sleeves of his dark t-shirt. Messy black curls framed his sharp, striking features, and behind black glasses with thin gold rims, his eyes were the most piercing shade of blue I’d ever seen—intense, observant, as if they could see right through me. A silver lip ring caught the light as he smirked, and his fingers—adorned with multiple rings, each one different from the next—tapped lazily against the countertop.

There was something about him that immediately put me on edge. I straightened my posture and adjusted the strap of my bag, willing myself not to let my nerves show. “Yeah,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Nice to meet you. I’m AJ.”

His smirk barely shifted, but there was something amused in the way his lips twitched. “Pretty sure the application said Aylah.”

I felt my stomach tighten at the use of my full name, the familiarity of it making me bristle. I forced myself to keep my expression neutral. “I prefer to go by AJ,” I said, my tone firm but controlled, making it clear that this wasn’t up for debate.

He tilted his head slightly, studying me in a way that made my skin prickle. Then, without missing a beat, he said, “That attitude isn’t going to get you anywhere here.”

I blinked, momentarily taken aback by the bluntness of his words. Was he serious? My jaw tightened slightly, and I exhaled through my nose, forcing down the immediate urge to snap back. Instead, I offered a sharp, unimpressed smile. “And what exactly is your attitude supposed to get you?” I shot back. “Because so far, I’m not impressed.”

His smirk widened just enough for me to know I’d given him the reaction he wanted. “You’re quick,” he murmured, almost to himself. He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, the movement slow and deliberate. His gaze never left mine, and for a moment, the space between us felt charged, like we were waiting to see who would push harder.

I wasn’t in the mood for games. I had already been through too much to waste my time with whatever this was. “Look,” I said, voice firm with growing impatience. “I don’t have time to waste. Where’s the boss?”

For a second, something unreadable flickered across his face. Then, as if I had just said something amusing, he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “I doubt he’d want to welcome a brat onto our team.”

I felt my temper flare before I could stop it. My fingers clenched slightly around the strap of my bag, and I gave him a glare. “Excuse me?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unfazed by my reaction. “What? You've never been told you’re a brat before?”

The sheer arrogance in his voice made something snap inside me,“Oh you’re just so charming,” I said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s a wonder anyone can stand to be around you.”

His response was nothing more than a quiet chuckle. He just leaned back against the counter even more, watching me with a kind of smug amusement that only made me want to wipe the look off his face.

I clenched my jaw, tired of whatever game he was playing. “Are you gonna tell me where the boss is or are you just here to waste my time?”

There was a pause. Then, slowly, he lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Fine,” he drawled lazily. “You win.”

I blinked, momentarily thrown by his sudden shift. “What?”

He pushed off the counter and straightened up, his sharp blue eyes never leaving mine as he crossed his arms again. “Welcome to the team,” he said, his voice now calm and steady, but still carrying that undeniable edge. “I’m your boss. Adam.”

For a moment, I didn’t react. The words didn’t register right away, or maybe I just didn’t want to register them. My boss? This guy? The same guy who had been pushing every single one of my buttons since I walked through the door?

I stared at him, trying to process the revelation, but all I could hear was the way he had said it—Welcome to the team.

My stomach twisted uncomfortably. Those words… I had heard them before. Not too long ago. Not from him, but from someone else. Someone I had no intention of remembering

Clearing my throat, I straightened my shoulders and met Adam’s gaze head-on, ignoring the way my pulse felt uneven. “You’re my new boss?” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. 

Adam just smirked, clearly enjoying my surprise. “That a problem?”

I exhaled sharply, regaining my composure. “Nope,” I said, forcing a smirk of my own. “Just wasn’t expecting the boss of a pink cafe to look like that.”

Adam let out a slow, amused chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “Like what?” he asked, tilting his head just enough for a few loose curls to fall over his forehead.

I gestured vaguely at him, my gaze trailing over the tattoos peeking out from his collar, the rings on his fingers, the sharp contrast between his dark clothing and the soft pastel pink of the cafe around us. “Like you belong in a tattoo parlor or a biker club, not running a place that sells oat milk lattes and lavender scones.”

His smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened. “You think people can’t like both?” he asked, slipping his hands into the pockets of his black jeans as he studied me.

I shrugged. “I just think it’s unexpected.”

He let out a quiet hum, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Funny. I was thinking the same thing about you.”

I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Adam leaned against the counter again, the warm café lighting casting soft shadows across his sharp features. “Just saying,” he mused, tilting his head, “you don’t exactly look like the type to want to work in a place like this either.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms. “Oh really? Then what do I look like?”

His gaze flickered over me, not in a way that felt invasive, but in a way that made it clear he was assessing me, picking me apart. “Like someone who doesn’t take orders well,” he finally said, voice smooth, edged with a quiet amusement.

I huffed out a sharp laugh. “That’s rich coming from someone who clearly enjoys bossing people around.”

“Gotta admit,” he said, pushing off the counter with an easy stretch, “it’s fun when they have a little bite to them.”

I rolled my eyes. “Great. Glad I can provide your daily entertainment.”

Adam smirked. “Hopefully it’ll be a lot more than just that AJ.”

Something in his tone made my stomach tighten slightly—not in a bad way, but in a way that I didn’t want to acknowledge. I straightened my posture, trying to push down the weird flutter in my chest. “Right. Well, as fun as this little back-and-forth has been, I’d actually like to start working now,” I said, shifting my weight onto one foot. “Unless you just hired me so you’d have someone to annoy all day.”

His smirk didn’t waver as he watched me, clearly amused by my irritation. “Trust me, you wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

There was something about the way he said it—something that made the air feel heavier between us for a split second. But before I could dwell on it, he pushed off the counter and gestured toward the back of the café.

“Come on, brat,” he said, already walking away. “Let’s see if you can actually keep up.”

I clenched my jaw at the nickname but followed him anyway, ignoring the way my heart kicked up just a little.

This was going to be interesting.

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

Jungkook’s POV:

The afterparty was a kaleidoscope of flashing neon lights, pulsating basslines, and the intoxicating aroma of top-shelf liquor. The air was thick with celebration, an electrified current of energy rippling through the exclusive Monaco nightclub. The city was never known for its silence, but tonight, it throbbed with an almost feverish intensity—one ignited by his victory and fueled by the endless supply of luxury.

Inside the opulent venue, excess dripped from every corner. Champagne fountains flowed endlessly, crystal flutes clinking in effortless rhythm with the pounding music. Models with impossibly long legs and diamond-studded wrists draped themselves over the shoulders of billionaires, their laughter like silk against the thunderous beat.

The scent of expensive perfume—heady and sweet—mingled with the faint traces of burning rubber that still clung to the night air, a lingering souvenir from the race. A massive LED screen loomed over the crowd, broadcasting slow-motion highlights of his masterful performance on the track. There he was—Jeon Jungkook—carving through the winding streets of Monte Carlo with surgical precision, his sleek machine devouring each turn as if the circuit had been designed solely for him.

Then came the voice of the DJ, amplified and drenched in artificial reverb, riding the waves of the bass-heavy music.

“Ladies and gentlemen, make some noise for your 2025 Monaco Grand Prix champion—JEON JUNGKOOK!”

The announcement was met with a deafening roar. The room exploded into wild applause, a blinding storm of flashing cameras, raised glasses, and enthusiastic voices chanting his name. The adrenaline from the race had barely faded, yet here he was, drowning in the euphoric aftermath of victory. Hands clapped against his back in rapid succession, warm with congratulations and intoxicated admiration. Someone from his pit crew—a familiar face blurred by the haze of celebration—grabbed his shoulder, urging him into another toast.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, forcing a smirk onto his lips as he lifted his glass. He played the part effortlessly—the untouchable champion, the golden boy of the racing world, the man standing at the pinnacle of a sport built on speed and ambition. Tilting his head back, he swallowed a mouthful of the amber liquid, the whiskey igniting a slow burn down his throat, settling deep in his chest. The heat was familiar, grounding.

This was the dream, wasn’t it? The pinnacle of everything he had bled for—glory, fame, and the unwavering adoration of the masses. This was the kind of legacy racers destroyed themselves chasing.

So why did it feel so damn hollow?

He sank into one of the plush velvet couches lining the VIP section, his body melting into its luxurious embrace as he draped an arm lazily along the backrest. The chaos of the celebration raged on around him, but he let it wash over him like a distant tide—untouchable, almost dreamlike. The deep bass of the music throbbed through his bones, each pulse syncing with the fading adrenaline in his veins.

Conversations buzzed and overlapped, a tangled symphony of indistinct voices that blurred into background static. Overhead, the flashing neon lights bathed the room in shifting hues of electric blue and fiery crimson, casting everything in a hazy, surreal glow, as if he were trapped somewhere between reality and a fever dream.

Jade moved through the dense crowd with an effortless grace that seemed almost magnetic, the kind that made people instinctively step aside without realizing they were doing it. Heads turned as she passed, drawn in by the quiet command in her posture, the unspoken authority in the way she carried herself. She was draped in deep emerald silk, the fabric catching the shifting neon lights and shimmering like liquid against her skin.

The dress hugged her every curve, tailored to perfection, its delicate straps leaving her shoulders bare. Her diamond-studded heels clicked against the cool marble floor in a slow, deliberate rhythm, each step exuding confidence, each movement calculated but seemingly effortless.

As she reached him, she didn’t pause or ask permission—she never did. Without hesitation, she lowered herself onto his lap, her body fitting against his like she had done this a hundred times before. One arm curled around the back of his neck, fingers grazing the short hairs at his nape, while her other hand lifted a slender flute of champagne to his lips. The glass was chilled, condensation gathering along its delicate stem, and when the effervescent liquid touched his mouth, it was crisp and sharp against the lingering burn of whiskey on his tongue.

Her perfume—something subtle but intoxicating, laced with jasmine and a hint of spice—wrapped around him, mingling with the heady scent of champagne and the faint traces of smoke and leather that clung to the air. Her gaze, dark and knowing, locked onto his as she leaned in just enough to make him forget everything else for a fleeting moment.

“The winner should be celebrating,” she purred, tilting the glass just enough to make the golden liquid meet his lips, her tone equal parts teasing and insistent.

Jungkook exhaled through his nose, letting the crisp bubbles burst against his tongue before swallowing, the cold contrast to the lingering heat of whiskey still burning in his chest. His free hand rested lazily against her thigh, not out of desire but out of convenience—it was easier to leave it there than to bother pushing her away.

“I am celebrating,” he muttered, the words slipping out with little conviction as he reached for his phone instead, already shifting his attention.

Jade arched a perfectly sculpted brow, her fingers tightening slightly at the back of his neck, nails grazing his skin with a deliberate slowness. “Scrolling through your phone doesn’t count,” she murmured, amusement laced in her voice. “Unless there’s a different kind of prize you’d rather be entertaining tonight?”

Jungkook barely spared her a glance, his thumb swiping across the screen with practiced indifference. “Maybe I just prefer my own company,” he quipped, though the slight tension in his jaw betrayed his carefully crafted nonchalance.

She hummed, tilting her head as if considering his words, though the glint in her eyes told him she wasn’t convinced. “Strange,” she mused, tracing the rim of her champagne flute with one manicured nail. “You’re not the type to spend victory night alone.”

He finally looked up, meeting her gaze head-on, his dark eyes unreadable. “Maybe you don’t me as well as you think you do,” he said, voice low, edged with something neither of them could quite name.

Jade clicked her tongue in amusement, unfazed by his disinterest. Instead, she leaned in closer, the scent of jasmine and champagne on her breath as she pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek, deliberately slow. When she pulled back, he could feel the stain of her deep red lipstick left behind.

“Join me when you come back to your senses,” she whispered into his ear, voice like velvet before she stood, her fingers grazing his jaw briefly before she disappeared back into the sea of bodies.

Jungkook let out a heavy sigh, dragging a hand down his face as the weight of the night settled over him. The celebration, the endless noise, the expectations pressing down on his shoulders—it was all too much. His skin felt too warm, his thoughts too loud, the chaos around him making it impossible to think.

He needed air.

Without a word, he pushed himself up from the plush velvet couch, ignoring the way Jade’s fingers ghosted over his wrist as he pushed past her. He didn’t give her—or anyone else—the satisfaction of an explanation. He just moved. Through the throng of people, past the sea of flashing cameras and raised glasses, tuning out the shouts of his name, the hands reaching for him, the hunger in their gazes. The crowd parted just enough to let him slip through, his pace measured but unrelenting. The moment he reached the exit, the bouncers barely had time to react before he stepped past them and into the cool embrace of the night.

The balcony was a stark contrast to the stifling heat of the club. The sharp ocean breeze met his skin, carrying the scent of salt and expensive cologne, a welcome relief from the overwhelming perfume and alcohol-laced air inside. He inhaled deeply, the crispness of the night air filling his lungs, grounding him.

Monaco stretched out before him, a glittering jewel against the ink-black expanse of the Mediterranean. The golden lights reflected off the gentle waves, shimmering like molten gold against the water’s surface. The city pulsed with life even at this hour—supercars purring through the winding streets, the distant murmur of laughter and conversation drifting up from the yachts lining the harbor. But here, away from the suffocating noise of the afterparty, he could finally breathe.

Leaning forward, he braced his arms against the cool stone railing, his gaze lifting toward the sky. The stars were faint, nearly drowned out by the artificial glow of the city, but he found himself searching for them anyway, as if focusing on something so distant could somehow quiet the storm inside him. Behind him, the music still throbbed through the walls of the club, a bass-heavy heartbeat that carried the sound of voices lost in celebration—people drinking, dancing, indulging in a night they wouldn’t remember with people they would never truly know.

And then—

Something caught his eye.

A figure moving below, weaving through the narrow, dimly lit streets of Monaco with a quiet, deliberate purpose.

A girl.

She was dressed in a black hoodie, the fabric loose against her frame, the faint white lettering on the back illuminated each time she passed under a streetlamp. It wasn’t anything remarkable, just a simple hoodie—except for the way Jungkook’s stomach tightened the second he saw it. His fingers curled against the stone railing, his pulse quickening in a way that had nothing to do with the crisp night air.

That hoodie—

He knew that hoodie.

But from where?

His mind scrambled for the answer, flipping through years of memories like a deck of cards shuffled too fast to catch. The familiarity clawed at his chest, a nagging pull at the edge of something half-forgotten, half-buried. And before he could fully think it through, before logic could tell him to let it go—

He was moving.

Pushing through the doors. Down the grand staircase two steps at a time. Past the lingering partygoers and the watchful eyes of the security team, ignoring the questioning glances thrown his way. The second his feet hit the pavement, his voice cut through the night, urgent and raw.

“Hey! Wait!”

The girl didn’t stop.

His chest tightened.

His legs carried him forward before he even made the decision to run. “Aylah—stop!”

And then—

She froze.

Slowly, hesitantly, she turned, the streetlight casting a soft glow over her face.

Jungkook’s breath caught. His pulse hammered against his ribs as he finally got a clear look at her.

For a moment, the world seemed to still.

But then—

She frowned.

Her expression didn’t shift into recognition, didn’t soften into something familiar. Instead, there was only confusion. Caution. A polite kind of indifference, as if his presence meant nothing more than an interruption in her night.

“Sorry… I don’t know who that is,” she said, her voice smooth, distant. Detached.

For a second, he just stared, his mind scrambling to make sense of what had just happened. His pulse still raced, his fingers still tingled with the remnants of anticipation, and yet—

She wasn’t Aylah.

Exhaling sharply, he ran a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head as the weight of his mistake settled in his chest. “Oh. Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

The girl offered a small nod—nothing more—and then turned, disappearing into the crowd, swallowed up by the night.

Jungkook stood there, rooted in place, his breathing unsteady.

He let out a bitter, humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair before rubbing his face in frustration.

Aylah was gone.

Completely.

And yet, as he stood in the silence of the Monaco streets, the distant hum of the city surrounding him, he couldn’t shake the gnawing realization settling in his gut—Maybe, just maybe, he had never been the one to let go first.

[my-naughty-writings-and-musings]

You suggested some merformer based asks, so consider this: Merformer! Shockwave x reader? Maybe the reader is a marine biologist and isn't used to being studied, especially this... thoroughly?

As usual I went way overboard, and with a slightly different vibe than you might have intended so I hope you like this, anon!! I was imagining a TFP Shockwave but of course you're free to imagine him as you choose!

For those who don't know: if you like my writing style, you can always commission me, and please reblog to help spread my work! Thank you!

Note: Thalassicon is just my word for what merformers call themselves.

Holding on tightly to Shockwave, you reminded yourself that oxygen was limited as you sucked in each careful breath from your scuba tank, and that he'd promised you it was just a quick swim through these dark tunnels to reach his lair. You trusted him completely, but it was impossible to shake your instinctive anxiety as his massive frame pulled you through the underwater caverns without a trace of light. Time seemed to drag on until a light blue glow at the end of the path caught your eye through your goggles.

As the light grew brighter, the water around you became warmer as Shockwave had promised, and you clung less tightly to his back to raise your head for a better look, almost forgetting to breathe when he finally swam clear of the tunnel and entered a massive underwater cave.

Bioluminescent plant life gave the water a beautiful blue glow, their long, delicate tendrils swaying with the currents Shockwave left in his wake as he pumped his tail without urgency to swim forward. You barely remembered to hold onto his back as you tried in vain to mentally catalog the rich biodiversity before you, wondering if the mech had cultivated it all himself just to keep his home suitably lit. As you stared in open awe, a sudden gesture for you to let go caught you quite by surprise, and you blushed at having lost yourself to the beauty of it all. Releasing your hold on his back, you allowed the merformer to take control when he spun to face you, trusting him completely as he cupped your tiny body in one servo and pointed upwards. Overwhelmed by everything, you merely nodded and allowed him to take you to the rippling surface overhead.

The air above was thankfully far fresher than you could have anticipated so far beneath the ocean, and there was also no shortage of light to see by either, thanks to a similarly breathtaking species of bioluminescent plant casting its soft glow down from the high ceiling above.

"You can breathe freely. I installed air scrubbers to keep oxygen at an ideal level." Shockwave instructed, holding you at the surface so you didn't have to waste your energy treading water. Happily removing your mask, you took a deep breath and massaged the creases left on your face, savoring the feeling of unimpeded oxygen before you looked around for a better idea of your surroundings. The cave was absolutely massive, and had a number of adjoining caverns with varying levels of exposed stone atop which Shockwave stored his less water friendly technology and salvage. More than a few boat engines the size of automobiles were stacked about and waiting to have their parts repurposed, along with a number of shipping containers you doubted had been pulled from shipwrecks. All in all, his lair felt just as much like a pirate's treasure cove as it did a scientist's lab, and you loved it more than words could convey.

"I never thought you'd actually bring me here. Am I your first visitor?" you asked in awe, allowing him to pull you in as he floated on his back. Setting you down atop his ample chest, he ensured you were lying comfortably on your belly before he answered your question with a single word and a nod.

"Affirmative."

You smiled and looked up at the glowing vines swirling along the stalactites overhead, sighing softly at the beautiful scene and the warm water lapping at your wetsuit. Despite rarely understanding his technological feats thanks to your biology focused education, you were awed by everything he'd accomplished, and were beyond grateful to be given the privilege to behold his home. More than a few conversations had alluded to how his culture considered visiting one's home to be a great gesture of trust saved for only the closest of friends and lovers. Considering the hidden depths of your feelings for him, that thought carried far more weight in your head than you'd intended, so you quickly pushed it down as you always did such things. "Thank you for trusting me, Shockwave. I'm honored."

"You have proven yourself to be my ally." he affirmed, gently taking your hand between his thumb and foredigit. The touch made your heart flutter, especially as you met his single red optic and saw his helm accents twitch as they did when he was processing deeper than usual emotions. "I am not one for my people's superstitions, but I do believe in our custom of reciprocating gestures of trust. You gave me reason to trust you completely, and I wish to do the same." 

Straight away, your mind snapped back to the fateful day he spoke of, the terror and uncertainty still raw thanks to how little time had passed. It had been a blur; the ambush by government officials, the net that had unintentionally caught you with him, and his shock when you took the time to cut him loose after freeing yourself. Echoes of the shots that had so narrowly missed the both of you were still clear in your mind, and you could easily recall how he'd held you close to take the hits as he swam for your lives... In the moment freeing him had just been a matter of course, and looking back on it you couldn't imagine doing anything else. You needed him to know that, even if he still seemed to struggle believing it. "You don't have to reward me for what I did. It was the right thing to do, they were going to hurt you."

"Perhaps." he mused in deep thought, going quiet and averting his optic. You allowed him time to think, able to tell from his twitching antennae that he was running over something very challenging in his processor. Looking ready to drop the topic and move on for several defeated seconds, he suddenly steeled himself and met your gaze, holding your hand all the more tightly as he carefully enunciated every last word. "But you have done far more than earn my trust. I have found our time together... enriching.

Though he obviously didn't expect a reply, you were in no shape to give him one, the shock on your face giving him another moment of pause before he forged ahead. How like him, you'd have thought if your brain weren't frozen, to drop something like this so suddenly... Neither one of you excelled at handling your emotions.

"You are unlike any human I have ever met, observed, or would have theorized possible." he continued to confess, obviously struggling but feeling a deep need to get through this. Your heart flipped at his words, beating strongly enough you were halfway worried he'd be able to feel it through your wetsuit, though if he did he didn't let it stop him. The merformer looked to your tiny hand in his, sharp optic tracing all the details imperceptible to the human eye as he allowed himself a rare emotive sigh from his vents. "I have grown very close to you, even if our relationship started on purely academic terms."

"Shockwave..." was all you could say, your voice locked in your throat and your eyes damp with more than seawater. Perhaps in your most self indulgent dreams you'd have allowed yourself to fantasize about such a moment, but to have it happen in reality, which was hardly known for its kindness, you simply couldn't dare to believe you'd be so fortunate. Then again, hadn't your entire relationship been a kind of fantasy made reality? Bumping into this brilliant mech, earning his interest with your scientific endeavors, beginning a relationship of mutual academic benefit that had deepened into something more... You only wished you could find enough words to tell him you felt the same, and had for such a long time. Some of the other feelings he created within you could be discussed at a later date...

Before you could try to force out a reply, Shockwave shifted once again, his antennae twitching backwards and his gaze dropping more out of what you dared to call bashfulness than simple nerves. It seemed the merformer wasn't done surprising you with shared yearning

"For my people, bringing another to your home means more than displaying trust. It is also intended to express a certain amount of... desire." he explained in the most halting voice you'd ever heard from him, usual confidence nowhere to be found.

"O-oh?" you squeaked, hopeful the glow wasn't bright enough to betray the blush turning your entire face to fire. He couldn't possibly be speaking of the same kind of desire that had made you wonder what his servos would feel like on your bare skin, or the kind that had you theorizing what certain parts of his anatomy looked like and hoping to find out... Thankfully for your sake, he seemed even more overwhelmed by what he was trying to say, enough that he didn't even seem to notice your struggles.

"We... do not approach such matters like humans. When a Thalassicon wishes to have a relationship that is more... intimate, there is not a period of courting. That is not to say we do not engage in courtship, only that it is not a prerequisite for physical relations. Intimacy is more for... expressing a certain level of trust, as well as desire, and..." he drifted off, the uncertainty in his voice so thick it weighed down every last word. Slapping his face into the palm of his servo, he mumbled in total defeat, too overcome to continue. "This is very hard to articulate."

The last thing you wanted was for him to stop, especially when you could swear you understood what he was trying to say, and very much wanted the conversation to continue in the direction it seemed to be heading. Taking a firmer hold of his hand, you pulled it close to yourself and sat up quickly. Something primal within you gave you the capacity to speak. "Then... show me? Use your hands?"

"If I have your permission-" he began, holding his servos just shy of your wetsuit.

"My full consent, and ask questions if you need to." you explained as you stripped off your mask and oxygen tank in record time, fully motivated to get things moving. You dared to hope you really understood just what he was getting at, that he yearned for your relationship to be more physical, and that your own desire for the same was soon to be quenched. It was much harder to be bashful with such giddy excitement fluttering through your belly.

A surge of similar energy moved through his massive frame, and you felt all thirty or more feet of him become alive beneath you, making your position straddling his chest all the more exciting. Biting your lip to hold back an overwhelmed whimper, you welcomed both of his servos as they lifted from the water, taking a hold of each one and guiding them to your body until his digits settled on your hips. Straight away you felt how different the contact was from any time he'd touched you in the past, a realization that only intensified when he began to explore, sliding his servos over the tight fabric of your wetsuit with all the deliberation one would expect of a scientist. You sat up straighter to open more of your body to him, jaw going visibly slack as his thumbs massaged up your front and stopped just shy of your breasts.

Recalling that you also had a pair of hands that were very skilled at studying aquatic anatomy, you let out all of your pent up curiosity and arousal and began to explore his massive frame, tracing the seams on his chest and savoring the smoothness of his mesh. As his touches stirred something in you, so did yours in him, the hum of his spark intensifying beneath your very fingertips. You were flattered and awed by the mech's receptiveness to your obviously desired advances.

"May I see you as you are?" he asked suddenly, tapping a digit over the tiny zipper on your front. Thoroughly pleased by the bold request, you met his gaze to find far more of his usual confidence had returned, a change you hoped was here to stay. Your certainty that it would intensified when his other servo traced your curves and took their time savoring the softness of your organic body. "I wish to know you without obstacles."

"Here, let me..." you began helpfully, pulling down the zipper in a manner you hoped read as inviting. He'd made his fascination with human anatomy known only in passing, but as you unzipped your suit and revealed a thin sliver of skin beneath, his optic betrayed far more than just academic interest. Loving the attention, you tried to play it cool as you peeled the wet fabric off your shoulders, moving slowly thanks to how the swimsuit clung to you when it was soaked. You managed to free the upper half of your body without too much trouble, baring your breasts to the open air and earning a quiver of excitement from his frame before you decided help would make the remaining process much easier.

"If you could help me pull off- oh!"

To your continued surprise, he didn't hesitate to follow your instructions, peeling off your wetsuit in a series of precise movements and leaving you naked on his chassis as he tucked it away in a convenient subspace. 

Completely bare and wet, you looked to him in a brief moment of total vulnerability, fears of rejection rising up only to be quickly squashed down when his optic dilated and his voice rumbled more deeply than you'd ever heard it before. "Fascinating..."

Shockwave did just as you'd bid and began to explore, starting at your legs that had so often fascinated him as a being with a tail. Tracing the shape of your muscles and somehow finding every sensitive nerve along the way, he made a point to massage your thighs, encouraging you to spread them but not yet focusing between them. The mech was approaching your body as one would an exquisite meal, savoring every last bit and saving the very best parts for last. You were a bit too overwhelmed to be impatient when he made it to your ribs, circling his thumbs over the tender flesh on the sides before he dipped inwards to heft your breasts, making your breath hitch as he finally got to your erect nipples. Biting your lip was the only way to hold back a moan.

Beneath you, his frame grew heated, and you felt an almost crackling energy building in the mech as his arousal increased with your own. All the little feelings for him that you'd pushed down over the past few months were returning with interest, creating a fire between your legs that refused to be satisfied by simple touches and demanded attention. Granted your own boldness by your pent up needs, you took a hold of his wrists and pushed them downwards, sitting up to bring your pussy into view in the hope he might skip exploration and go straight for experimentation. A needy whine was your attempt at an invitation.

To your delight and near overwhelm, Shockwave growled at the sight, his desire letting you know the move was the right one even before he spoke with the same level of open, feral want. "How do you prefer to be stimulated?"

"Clit, circles, please." you begged, incapable of anything more eloquent. Thankfully he was quite the master of blunt communication, and seemed to find the invitation more than sufficiently invigorating from the desperation with which he slipped his servo between your legs. Supporting your weight entirely, he began to rub his way from the tender skin between your legs to the sopping lips of your entrance, where he found a wealth of lubrication to get started with. 

Your first moan echoed along the ceiling when his digits met your throbbing clit, the smooth mesh delighting you more than you could have ever imagined as he began to circle the erect bud as you'd requested. It occurred to you that you'd never once described such human anatomy to him, and even though you'd learned your species were shockingly similar in this regard you were confident the speed with which he'd found your sweet spot meant he'd been doing research. That thought alone had you moaning far more shamelessly, your hands holding on tightly to his servo as he adjusted you to press his thumb into your clit whilst his foredigit fingered your entrance to test its flexibility. Your eyes rolled back when you felt the heavenly stretch of him slipping inside.

"Need this. Need you." he said quickly, tail slapping the water as your open enjoyment egged him on. Dropping his spare servo to his waist, you had just enough scientific curiosity available to whip your head around in time to see his modesty plating retract, which allowed for an erection nearly as long as you were tall to swing forth with a splash. Beholding the full size and intensity of his arousal made your walls pulse around his digits, something that was not missed on the mech as he began to pump with a groan of pent up, frustrated arousal. You were hypnotized by the impressive purple length, watching in open mouthed desire as his digits moved up and down its streamlined ridges and simple rows of red biolights. 

"Shockwave..." you moaned again, grinding down into his palm as the water around you grew choppy from your shared exertions. Hearing his name had exactly the effect you wanted, his thrusting digit going deeper and curling up into your sweet spot as his thumb pressed firmer circles into your clit. The warmth of your arousal running down to pool in his palm made the scientist all the more eager, his tail churning the water as his other servo splashed into the waves with every pump of his erection. Though you wanted to watch him work, you found your eyes rolling back as a familiar coil began to build in your lower body, the promise of a long overdue release making it more or less impossible to care about anything beyond the ecstasy of the moment. 

"I'm so close!" you announced to encourage him, cries spilling out of you with every thrust of his wrist. Thighs quivered on either side of his palm as you practically bounced in his grasp, moving yourself to the rhythm of his masturbation and praying both of you could reach completion at around the same time. Judging by how his every sound was some animalistic growl or moan of want, you doubted it would be long, especially with his noises adding so much to your own enjoyment. There was something unspeakably flattering about having such a massive, beautiful, intelligent being moaning over what they were doing to you...

A sudden twist of his deeply buried digit and an increase in the pressure on your clit did you in without warning, making your entire body spasm in his grip as you came hard around him, throbbing walls sending waves of ecstasy through your very being. Stars swirled in the spinning lights overhead, forcing you to grab him for balance as you rode out the release you'd needed for weeks without relief.

Seeing you so overcome pushed Shockwave into his own explosive release, his spinal strut arching as he came in plentiful ropes of transfluid that gushed over himself and grazed your bare back. Moaning in euphoria, he somehow managed to keep you balanced and upright as his hips twitched into every throb, the remainder of the mess being washed away by the waves even before reality came hurtling back. You managed to catch a glance of his near theatrical release before your own orgasm faded into the afterglow, and by the time he did the same you were much closer to unconsciousness than you would have thought possible.

Collapsing in his grip, you very nearly fell off into the water before he released his spent spike to hold you up with both servos, chassis rising and falling as he ventilated hard to cool off. Naked and completely satisfied, you allowed the warm water to welcome you as you were laid flat on his chest, your own ribs expanding repeatedly for deep breaths of exertion. You weren't sure you'd ever been more spent in your life...

"I built a small station on the far side of my lair. There is a platform on which you can rest and dry off." Shockwave said suddenly, total exhaustion belying the monumental step forward the two of you had just taken. It didn't even really hit you when you nodded for him to proceed, your limp body staying just where he kept it on his chassis as he swam slowly in the direction indicated. Purring, you noted the lingering warmth of his release on your back with a bit of pride. Shockwave had needed this just as desperately as you had...

Laying on his chest as the two of you lazily floated towards your destination, you wondered what might come next in your relationship, but admittedly couldn't think of much of anything in depth with so little energy to spare. It was enough just to be happy with him, with how everything had turned out since the fateful day the two of you had met... Judging by how tenderly he cupped you to himself as he swam along, you dared to believe he felt the same way, and if he preferred to show such emotions the way you'd just experienced you were more than fine with it.

[inkedinfantasy]

A FFXIV swap gift for Bones, featuring their OC Ahzra!

The search for Hraesvelgr had taken them deep into the Churning Mists. It had been a long day, and they were more than ready to warm themselves by a proper campfire after hours of trudging through the perpetual chill of the rocky, mountainous terrain.

The break would be no small relief; the change in altitude was beginning to take its toll. Alphinaud insisted that he was fully prepared to continue if need be, but his sickly complexion and the slight sway as he stood said otherwise. The boy wouldn’t be used to being up this high. Estinien and Ysayle, more accustomed to the mountains of Coerthas, looked none the worse for wear.

“We’re not going any further tonight with you in this state,” Ahzra said.

Thankfully, Alphinaud did not protest further, merely nodding and stumbling a few steps away to sit against a nearby boulder, trying to take deep, measured breaths.

Ahzra frowned, and began to dig through their bag for anything that might help.

“Even this high up, there are herbs growing that help with the mountain sickness,” Estinien offered. “A type of sage that you make into some sort of tea or tincture. We passed a cluster of it on our way up the hill.”

“I’m familiar with it,” Ahzra said. “If you’d be willing to backtrack to pick some up, I can take care of the rest. I should have everything else I need on hand.”

Estinien nodded, and headed back down the path.

Ysayle freed her water supply, kneeling to offer it to Alphinaud. “Drink,” she said. “It will help until they can get some medicine into you.” She turned to Ahzra. “The concoction you’re making—I know of it as well. Its got clary sage and willow in it, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Add some mint too, if you have it. It will help settle the stomach.”

A small pot of water was gently steaming in the chill air when Estinien returned with a fistful of the fresh herbs. Ahzra nodded in thanks as they accepted them, dropping a few of them into the water to steep alongside some mint and willow bark from their personal supply. The concoction had a brisk, refreshing aroma.

Alphinaud was sitting listlessly at the edge of the fire, slowly sipping at Ysayle’s waterskin. “I’m fortunate to be among companions with the means and knowledge to make such a thing.”

“I imagine most any Coerthan family without the means to buy it knows the recipe,” Ysayle said.

Estinien inclined his head in agreement. “I learned it from my parents. My brother used to get the mountain sickness when we’d move the flocks to higher ground.”

Ahzra took the pot off the heat, straining it as they poured out a cup. Alphinaud removed his gloves to grip the cup with his bare hands, savoring the heat as he waited for it to cool to a drinkable temperature.

As he took a tentative sip, Ahzra surreptitiously prepared a second cup for themself. They’d hoped their unfortunate tendency toward motion sickness wouldn’t extend to Coerthas’s upper altitudes, but they’d been feeling ill for a few bells now.

They much preferred suffering in silence, as it were, but as they glanced up they noticed Estinien’s eyes on them as they sipped at their tea. As Alphinaud drained his cup, his breathing evened out, and the color started to return to his face. Mercifully, Ahzra’s case was not as severe as his looked, but the tea did have them feeling better as well. Ysayle’s suggestion to add mint had been a good one.

* * *

Rest, water, and a night to acclimate had done wonders, and Ahzra felt much improved by the time they awoke the next morning. Alphinaud was far more chipper as well, volunteering to gather firewood for preparing their morning meal before they set out once more. Ysayle was sorting through what food they had left on hand, and Ahzra had only caught a glimpse of Estinien as they’d exited their tent, disappearing down the path in search of some fresher breakfast, they assumed.

As Azhra was packing up, a fresh bundle of the sage they’d used in the previous night’s remedy dropped into their lap. They looked up to see Estinien standing over them.

“For your supplies,” he said. “In case we need it again.”

So that’s where he’d gone off to. “I appreciate it. Thank you.”

Estinien nodded stiffly and walked away.

Ahzra turned back to the leaves, wrapping them up as neatly as they could. They’d have to see about drying them properly for storage later.

For now, they had a dragon to visit.

[marahuyomae]

The Duchess' Hope- Chapter 3: A Price too High (I'm not talking about Marijuana prices)

"Guys, treat her well," Genda's deep, silky yet rugged voice followed. He winked at me again, causing my face to scrunch up like it had before, lifting one side of my lip into a sneer. At Genda's words, the rest of the team responded in unison, "Hai~."

I had initially believed these guys to be the epitome of discipline, reflecting the school's image of sternness and perfection. But behind closed doors, they couldn't care less about the state of their club room. Just the other day, they were eating snacks while discussing new strategies and doing homework at the same time. When they left, the room was a disaster—bags of chips scattered everywhere and chairs in positions so random I couldn't even make sense of them.

The worst part? Ants crawling all over the walls. It didn't take long to discover the source of the infestation—a sloppy joe and some powdered donuts carelessly abandoned. I could only stare at the chaos in a mix of disgust and horror, especially as sticky cheddar residue clung stubbornly to the floor.

Staring at the chaotic state of the clubroom, I took a deep breath and tied my hair into a tight ponytail, mentally preparing myself for the battle ahead. The mess was overwhelming, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle—at least, that's what I told myself as I grabbed a broom from the corner and got to work.

I started with the floor, sweeping away the cheddar dust and crumbs scattered everywhere. The broom's bristles caught on sticky spots, likely from spilled soda or juice. I frowned but kept sweeping methodically, making sure no corner was overlooked. Once the visible debris was gone, I grabbed a dustpan and carefully collected every last crumb.

Next, I fetched a bucket and filled it with warm water mixed with a generous amount of disinfectant. Kneeling on the floor, I scrubbed the sticky patches by hand (With gloves of course, I'm no crazy person that escaped asylum.), using a sponge and plenty of elbow grease to ensure no residue remained. The faint citrusy scent of the disinfectant filled the air as I worked. After scrubbing, I wrung out the sponge and went over the same spots with clean water to rinse away any lingering soap.

Satisfied with my progress, I moved on to the walls, where ants were still marching in determined lines. Using a damp cloth soaked in soapy water, I wiped down the walls thoroughly, making sure to remove every trace of the powdered sugar and sauce that had attracted the insects in the first place. I sprayed an insect repellent around the room's edges to ensure the ants didn't return, then wiped the area down again to remove any harsh chemical residue.

Once the walls were clean, I tackled the tables and chairs. First, I returned the chairs to their proper positions, straightening them neatly. The tables were sticky as well, so I wiped them down with a microfiber cloth dipped in warm soapy water. I followed up with a second cloth to dry them and remove streaks. The room slowly started to look less like a disaster zone and more like a place where people could actually work and focus.

Finally, I turned my attention back to the floor. Sweeping and scrubbing alone wasn't enough for me; the floor needed a proper mopping. I emptied the bucket of dirty water, refilled it with clean water and a fresh dose of disinfectant, and began mopping systematically, making sure I covered every inch. When the floor dried, I applied a thin coat of wax, buffing it until it gleamed. It wasn't perfect, but it was as close to spotless as it could get under the circumstances.

I stood back, surveyed my work, and allowed myself a small moment of satisfaction. The air was fresher, the surfaces were spotless, and the floor practically shone. While I hated the mess and the effort it took to clean it, I couldn't deny the sense of accomplishment I felt when it was done. For better or worse, this was my responsibility now—and I wasn't going to let the state of this room reflect poorly on me.

It turns out, the room took me two full days of cleaning. Between my studies, classes, and going home, it became quite the challenge to get it all done in just a day.

After putting everything away, it hit me that today would be the first day I could finally watch them practice on the indoor field. It might sound like an overstatement that they can't clean up their mess, but if you weren't their manager, you'd probably expect their club room to be neat and tidy—especially since they all come from well-educated families. But what can you really expect from a room where the boys feel free to do whatever they want?

I sat on the floor at the side, watching them stretch before practice as I gently wiped down a slightly scuffed soccer ball with a cleaning cloth. Now that I was the manager, I had changed into a dark green tracksuit that almost looked black, with white stripes that accentuated my strontium flame-colored eyes. They had always been my least favorite feature, a reminder of something from long ago. I pursed my lips, feeling a wave of sadness wash over me, but I quickly shook it off. 'Forget about the past. You are Inoue Mihori now,' I scolded myself silently.

A TV set being wheeled in by Genda and Jimon caught my attention. 'What's that for?' Before I could ask, Genda shouted across the field to their captain with dreadlocks, "Why did you tell us to get this?"

"Just watch," Kidou replied, his voice carrying that I-know-something-you-don't tone. Then, with a subtle motion, Kidou slid a tape—one he'd been hiding—into the slot.

As the TV flickered to life, the screen displayed the logo of Seiryu Academy, a renowned school known for its elite soccer team. The players all gathered around, eyeing the screen with a mix of curiosity and tension. Kidou, ever the strategist, stood at the front, his gaze locked on the footage. On the screen, the Seiryu team was in the midst of a fast-paced game, their players moving with precision and coordination that was almost flawless.

"They're good," Jimon muttered, his arms crossed as he watched the clip, a look of admiration in his eyes.

"Good doesn't cut it anymore," Kidou said, his voice sharp. "We need to be better. Pay attention to their formations. Every move, every pass—they don't just play to win, they play to dominate."

The clip continued, showing a brilliant display of skill—quick passes, perfect positioning, and tactical awareness that was clearly superior. Genda, ever the competitive one, leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the screen, already mentally analyzing their next move. "We can take them down," he muttered, a grin spreading across his face.

A mix of surprise and awe washed over me as I watched Genda. There were times when I almost forgot he was actually the captain of Teikoku Academy's soccer team, not Kidou. Kidou always seemed to overshadow him with his intellect, making it feel like he was the leader instead. But right now, Genda exuded a quiet confidence, his superiority and competitiveness shining through—qualities that made him captain in the first place. It might not be immediately obvious, but from what I could tell, Genda was the one who truly brought the team together. Most of the players were too intimidated by Kidou to approach him, and while Kidou was an excellent strategist, his way of working could have created problems with the team's unity if he had been the captain instead of Genda.

Genda spoke up once again, his voice steady as he pulled out a few sketches of his new ideas for their next game. The pages were filled with diagrams of various hissatsu techniques, each one more detailed than the last. He looked around at the team, his eyes briefly locking with Kidou's, as if silently challenging him.

"We need to step up our game," Genda said, his tone assertive yet focused. "These new techniques will give us an edge. We can't just rely on what's worked before. We need innovation if we want to beat the best."

He spread the sketches out on the table, pointing to one of the formations. "I'm thinking of combining two hissatsu moves into one play. It's risky, but if we pull it off, it'll catch the other team completely off guard."

Genda's eyes swept across the room, catching the attention of each team member. "Kidou, you're the strategist, but I want everyone's input here. If we're going to make this work, we need full commitment. What do you think?"

He paused for a moment, allowing the question to hang in the air, then continued, "We need to push our limits if we want to show Seiryu Academy what we're made of. So, are we all in?"

The others immediately seemed energized, all of them agreeing enthusiastically with Genda's plan. But then Narukami, ever the one to bring up the unexpected, suddenly asked, "Don't we still have Koutei Penguin 1gou?"

At that moment, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Kidou's entire demeanor changed. His usual calm and calculated presence darkened, and he growled, his voice low and dangerous, "Don't you ever mention that hissatsu again."

The abruptness of his reaction caught me off guard. Instinctively, I asked, "What's that?" The room fell silent, all eyes turning toward me. It was the first time I'd spoken up, and I could feel their gaze on me, heavy and questioning.

Kidou's eyes flickered with a mixture of frustration and something else—something I couldn't quite place. He opened his mouth to speak, but then seemed to reconsider. The tension hung in the air, thick and awkward.

"Er..." Kidou began, but the words seemed to stall in his throat.

The silence stretched on until Kidou turned to Sakuma, who gave a subtle nod in return. He then glanced at Genda, who also nodded, though there was a certain heaviness to his expression. Finally, Kidou fixed his gaze on me, his eyes locking with mine, piercing and unreadable.

For a moment, I couldn't tell if he was angry, disappointed, or just lost in thought. Whatever it was, it felt like a warning—a hint that this was a topic better left untouched. The tension in the room was palpable as everyone waited for Kidou to speak.

Sakuma, sensing the rising tension, hesitated for a moment before speaking up. He placed a hand gently on Kidou's arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze, as if to ground him. "It's... a forbidden hissatsu technique," he began, his voice calm but measured. "Koutei Penguin 1gou is a move I can use, but it's far more dangerous than Koutei Penguin 2gou. It's stronger, sure, but the cost is high—it causes significant damage to the user, which is why we sealed it away."

Kidou's expression softened just a little, though there was still an edge to his presence. Sakuma turned slightly, making sure everyone understood. "It's not just that one," he continued. "Beast Fang, the hissatsu goalie technique Genda uses, is in the same category. Both moves have immense power, but they come with a heavy price—the user's health. That's why we locked them away, to keep them from being used recklessly."

Genda, who had been quiet up until now, nodded solemnly, his usual grin absent. "We're not saying they can't be useful," he added, his voice steady. "But if we push too hard, it could hurt us more than it helps. That's why they're off-limits for now."

The weight of their words hung in the air, and I could tell the team was divided over the decision. Kidou's eyes softened, though there was still an underlying sense of resolve. "These techniques are meant for the right time," he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else, "when we can control the consequences."

The room fell silent again, each player reflecting on the decision. The techniques were undeniably powerful, but the risks involved were not something to be taken lightly. It was a delicate balance, one that they had clearly thought long and hard about.

Taglist: @papamogreen @d0llyyoung Please ask if you want to be part of the taglist!!

[topazy]

Inside, outside

Pairings: 10k x reader, Addy Carver × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence

Chapter: 5.01

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story! I'm feeling a little sad but looking forward to writing the final season of the chaotic love story between Astra and 10k💕

You swing the hammer in your hands fast, cracking the skull of the Z in front of you open, flinching as its blood splattered over you. Turning on your heels, you bury the claw into another Z’s eye socket before using the blade in your other hand to stab it in the side of the head.

“I give you mercy,” you say, wiping the blood off your face with the sleeve of your jumper before putting your hand flat against a tree. You lean against it and catch your breath.

Thinking the coast was clear, you’d split off from the rest of your group momentarily to go for a pee, but ended up being chased by the undead on your way back. As you walk up a hill in the direction the rest of your group is going, you spot Doc running with a brunette by his side towards them, then hear the familiar sound of gunshots as 10k and Sarge take out a handful of Z’s.

“What’s going on?”

“A Z just said ‘no’,” Murphy replies.

“What?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “A Z just said ‘no’ right before 10K shot him.”

“Right,” you snort, before leaning up and kissing 10k on the cheek. Dropping your backpack to the ground, you open it and rummage inside it before pulling out a bottle of water that you hand to the brunette Doc rescued, saying, “hey, I’m Astra.”

“Hi… Thank you,” she shyly accepts.

Since being unable to stop the black rainbow, the survivors of your group decided to head to Newmerica, and along the way, you helped anyone you came across. It was hard given the lack of water, food, and ammunition, but humanity needed to look after one another again, even strangers. It was the only way life in the new world would work. Maybe it was hope of a better life, but the sky seemed clearer, the grass was healthy and un-stained by blood and zombie guts, and the air was much fresher.

Once everyone had something to eat and drink, Doc declared it was time to move on before any more deaths came.

While heading back to the vehicle parked at the bottom of the hill, Murphy leans into you and says, “I don’t know about Granny; she doesn’t look so good. I swear to God I saw her cough up a hairball.”

He was right; the elderly woman who claimed her name was actually Granny looked as if she'd been sick for a long time. 10k and Doc saved her and her adult children from a horde of Z’s days prior, and initially you thought their sickly appearance was due to exhaustion, but now you weren’t convinced it was the only reason. You were worried Granny wouldn’t even make it to Newmerica. You whisper, “I think we should be ready to show mercy at any time.”

When a couple you rescued let out a deep, chesty cough behind you, Murphy looked back and waved to them. “How y’all doing back there?”

“We’re good,” the man replies. “She’s actually feeling better, and my stomach cramps have stopped.”

Murphy laughs cheerfully before turning to look straight ahead again. “If they weren’t talking, I’d swear they were Zs. What are they still living for, huh? I’d say just die already.”

“I say the same thing about you all the time.”

He glares at you, “brat.”

You laugh as Murphy walks faster to catch up with Doc, no doubt to argue about whether Warren is still alive again. The subject of their arguments caused knots to form in your stomach. You knew what it was like to have nobody believe you that someone you loved was still alive, but then again, you only experienced that with 10k because Murphy put you through it.

You step to the side to wait for 10k, who is at the back of the group making sure the dead don’t creep up, but as the others walk by, you do your best not to gag. Not only did the people you rescued look dead, but they also smelled like death.

—

Your eyes flicker between the road and the figure disappearing into the distance. Murphy had just split off from the rest of the group on his own to go search for Warren while the rest of you headed to New Mexico. Although you had a history with Murphy, you didn’t like that the group was getting smaller, plus you doubted he would survive long on his own.

“A few hundred more miles and we’ll be in Newmerica,” Doc says, railing everyone together. He stopped driving half an hour ago so everyone could stretch their legs.

Sarge stands beside you, mumbling to herself while looking between the different people. Suddenly she turns to you and says, “Oh shit, we’re a person down.”

You do a mental check of everyone that’s there and realize Granny is missing. “Hey Doc! We’ve lost one; Granny’s gone!”

Everyone splits off into pairs to try and find the elder women. Granny couldn’t have gotten far, but in her confused state, she could have been a danger to herself.

Luckily, it doesn’t take long for 10k to find her. She was hunched over, eating brains from a rotting corpse. “That’s disgusting.”

When Granny’s son pulls her back, she claims to have no idea why she ate it. It scared you to see how zombie-like she was becoming. Doc quickly orders everyone to go back to the truck. You go to leave, but 10k grabs your hand and pulls you back slightly. “Do you think Granny is a cannibal?”

“Possibly, I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t like it. They all seem so sick.”

“Do you think the black rain caused it?”

“God, I hope not; what if everyone in Newmerica is like that?”

He lets out a deep sigh and says, “We’ll figure it out.” 10k eyes soften as a smile plays on his lips. “Just think, once we are there, we can finally start to spend time together, just us, with no interruptions.”

“I can’t wait.” You press your lips against his, but pull away when you hear the sound of an engine being turned. “We better hurry before Doc sends a search party.”

Still holding your hand. 10k leads the way. Most married couples got to spend their first few weeks of marriage doing nothing but have sex, and it was growing increasingly frustrating how difficult it was for you to not even be able to spend ten minutes alone with 10k without being interrupted by the undead or someone in your group.

“Front or back?”

You squeeze his hand before letting go. “I’ll go in the back.”

You jump into the back of the truck beside Sarge; the tension between you is gradually getting less awkward. You sit with her facing the others while 10k gets in the front beside Doc.

“Alright, let’s go, kids!”

—

It made you nervous seeing how sickly everyone in the back looked aside from Sarge. The two of you kept glancing at each other, sharing a knowing look. The people you’d rescued all looked as if they were dying from some type of flu. You feared things would turn bad at any moment, and seeing the way Granny’s face began to twitch, you gripped your blade just in case she turned.

As Doc starts to pull over, you look around confused. He was pulling towards what looked like two men selling stuff at the side of the road from a camper van. Not exactly what you envisioned the new world would look like.

Feeling that something wasn’t right, you hang back by the truck as 10k, Doc, and Sarge go over to speak to them. Something didn’t seem right. You jump out of the truck and take a few steps forward, but turn back after hearing a grunting sound. You see Granny struggling to get out and offer her your hand to help her down, but she slaps your hand out of the way, jumps down, and runs towards Sarge.

“Brains!”

You get whiplash from looking back and forth between three different people who your group had taken in because they had turned nearly completely Z-like; they didn’t appear to be fully dead or alive.

When one of the men who was sitting by the stop point aims his gun at Granny, a young woman with short, slicked-back black hair appears and gently gets him to lower the gun. Her clothes were clean and fresh-looking; it was obvious she hadn’t been roughing it like the rest of you. She walks towards Granny, who was being restrained by 10K and Doc. She clicks her fingers to get the older woman’s attention and pops a black biscuit into Granny’s mouth, which turns her back to normal. Granny gives the woman a cuddle, then steps back to cuddle her son.

The woman looks at Doc and says, “How long has she been dead?”

“Dead? We just thought she was sick. She’s talking.”

“No, she’s dead. So are those two,” she says, pointing to the couple your group rescued. “They’re talkers.”

“How is that possible?”

“Since the black rain, people don’t just turn like before. Their bodies are dead, but their souls remain conscious. The dead don’t just walk—now they talk.”

Oh shit.

The mysterious woman hands more of the biscuits out to the half-dead people and explains that there are supposedly traces of brains and something else that prevents them from fully turning. You notice the similarities between the women and the figure of someone on the posters hanging up on the camper van.

“I’m George,” she says. “And this is my friend, Lieutenant Dante.”

Lieutenant Dante was most definitely already dead. Your group really messed up with the black rain; now the world has talking zombies.

“I’m Astra; this is 10k, Sarge, and Doc.”

“Sweet names. So what are you guys doing all the way down here? No offense, but you look as if you’ve been through hell.”

“We are looking for Newmerica.”

George tells you that Newmerica is just an idea that will hopefully become its own nation, and everyone, dead or alive, is welcome to vote. Dead or alive.

Doc shrugs and says, “Sign us up.”

[queen-scribbles]

Waking up 12 or 15 for Brykar

12. "Come back, the bed's cold without you." & 15. "You definitely needed the sleep." How 'bout both, and happy Star Wars day 😁 ---

Briyoni could listen to Jonas breathe for hours.

Not that she usually got the chance; between the two of them he was the early riser, up with or before the sun while she preferred to sleep til nearly noon any day she wasn't on duty. But today a string of so-late-it's-morning-again nights worked things in her favor. He was still in bed, still asleep--still laying on her arm, which was starting to go numb.

Bry flexed her fingers to keep some circulation but made no effort to escape. As excuses to stay in bed went 'my husband was asleep on top of me' was a pretty good one. (She was pretty sure the reverse was among Jonas' favorites, too.) Instead she snuggled closer and enjoyed the even cadence of his breathing.

Until nature started calling, and got insistent enough she couldn't ignore it any longer. She groaned and carefully, slowly as she could, worked her arm out from under Jonas to head for the 'fresher.

She was just finishing when a discontented groan issued from the bedroom. "Bry, c'me back. 'S cold without you..."

He still sounded more than half-asleep(adorable) and she giggled as she called back, "One sec, sweetheart." She finished and rejoined him, nestling close in her same spot against his back. "Better?"

"Mmmh. ...Do I even wanna know the time?" he mumbled.

"Prob'y not," she chuckled, kissing his shoulder blade. "Mornin', sleepyhead."

Jonas hummed. "So it is still morning?"

She twisted to look at the wall chrono. "Technically."

Rather than push out of bed with grumbling about wasting half the day like she expected, he hummed again and shifted to lay on his back so he could look at her. "I feel like I should feel guilty, but-"

"Nah," Bry cut him off, resting a hand on his chest. "A solid week of no more'n an hour or two a night? You definitely needed the sleep." She grinned. "I'm honestly a little surprised you woke up at all. Figured you'd be out all the way 'round til tomorrow to catch up."

"Tempting," he said with a sleepy laugh, rubbing her arm. "But there's stuff to do--"

"Not for us there isn't," Bry interrupted again, smugly this time. "Vica said we can have a day or two off, 'cause of everything we did for this op--"

"Nice of her."

"That's my sister," she snorted. "Quintessential Jedi. An' I figured since she has a spy husband who does, y'know, that a lot more regularly than you just did, she knows what she's talking about." She poked his shoulder.

Jonas smiled, fingers lazily tracing the chevrons that trailed up her arm. "You'll just take any excuse to stay in bed, gorgeous."

"Guilty," Bry said. She bit her lip when his light touch brushed over the sensitive spot by her elbow. "But this time you get to stay with me."

"Hm, whole day bein' lazy with my wife?" His grin was made all the more roguish by the heavy stubble. "I suppose I could be persuaded..."

"Hmm." Bry waggled her brows and rolled over, supporting herself with a hand by each of his shoulders as she smiled down at him. "Is that a hint I need to break out the Nerai charm?"

"Couldn't hurt-"

This time she cut him off with a kiss, one deep enough to feel him groan as his hand slid into her hair. His shoulders came off the bed as he pressed up into it until they had to break for air. Jonas fell back against the pillow and Bry smirked.

"Made my point, handsome?" she purred.

He chuckled. "Very persuasive, gorgeous. However," he pushed himself up so they were sitting with her straddling his hips, "might need a little more convincing..."

"Hard case, huh?" She grinned and ran her fingers through his hair on the way to wrapping her arms around his neck. "You're lucky I like you so I'll put up with this-"

Jonas kissed her, and Bry laughed as she leaned in to deepen it, relishing the catch in his breathing. She'd have him spending the whole day in bed by the time she was done.

She was, as he knew full well, very persuasive.

[duhdumb89]

A Forbidden Happiness | Chapter 4

Walking through the gates of Xianfugong was like stepping into another world. The sun bounced off the bright gold roof and lacquered red walls. Jiayi took a deep breath. Even the air was fresher here. The courtyard was bustling. Stacks of luxurious fabrics and stately decor were piled around the door of one of the side halls. Eunuchs and palace maids were scurrying in and out. The eunuch, sick of her already, grabbed her shouldered and steered her inside.

"Wang gugu, here's another maid," he pushed her forward and ran off.

Jiayi bowed. You couldn't not bow to The Emperor's chief maid, Wang Langhua. Jiayi had heard of her but never seen her in the flesh. Fairly often, Jiayi gained a bunkmate thanks to Wang gugu. She had no mercy for maids who tried to crawl into the bed of The Emperor or did their mistress' unsightly biddings. The only maid in the palace with more power was Jerjer, The Empress Dowager's chief maid.

Wang gugu barely glanced at her, busy watching the servants scuttle to and fro.

"Rise," she said, "Do you have your uniform?"

Jiayi shook her head.

"Molan!" Barked Wang gugu, "Take this one and have her change into an extra uniform,"

"Yes!"

Jiayi was dragged into what she assumed was the maid's rooms by a short, round faced girl.

"What's your name?" The girl asked as she rummaged through a chest.

"Wei, er, Wei Jiayi,"

"I'm Shang Molan. Nice to meet you. Catch!"

A bundle of cloth hit Jiayi in the face.

Molan didn't mind that Jiayi was stripping down to her underclothes and proceeded to talk Jiayi's ears off about anything and everything.

Jiayi learned that Molan was 15 and a bond servant from the bordered blue banner clan, Cui. She learned that there were two other maids here, Li Ming and Ping'er. She learned that even though Xiang gui ren was going to live in a side hall, His Majesty was decorating her room with things far above her station. The Emperor had even inspected the rooms personally.

"I'm ready," said Jiayi, smoothing down her silken waistcoat. She couldn't keep her hands off of it, it was the nicest thing she'd ever owned.

"Really?" Asked Molan, "You don't have anything for your hair?"

Jiayi reached and patted her plain liangbatou, "I like a simpler look," she lied.

"Simple won't do!" Molan walked over to the foot of her bed and dug around in a small chest. She pulled out a velvet flower hair pin and placed it on Jiayi's hairpiece, "Much better. If I wasn't so sure that Wang gugu wasn't going to come in here and drag us out, I'd do your makeup, too!"

The only response they got from Wang gugu when they returned as a strong glare.

"Who are you?" A skinny girl asked, stepping in front of her.

"Wei Jiayi,"

"Well, Wei Jiayi, make yourself useful and go wipe the walls," the maid shoved a bucket into her chest and stomped away.

Molan huffed and glared at her back, "That's Li Ming. She's miserable here and taking it out on everyone else,"

"Really?" Jiayi took the bucket and began scrubbing. Molan kept herself busy dusting the decorations dotted along the walls.

"Of course! She comes from one of the upper three banners. I heard she was planning to kill herself when she learned who she was serving, but Wang gugu told us that The Emperor would start telling their families that they were punished for adultery,"

"What's all this?" A sweet voice asked.

Wang gugu and the other servants bowed so Jiayi followed suit.

"Greetings to Jiang gui ren, An gui ren," said Wang gugu.

Jiang gui ren waved away the formality with a gold tipped hand.

"Things are coming along quite nicely, Wang gugu. You don't mind if I look around?"

Wang gugu stepped to the side and bowed her head.

Like all the Emperor's women, Jiang gui ren and An gui ren were beautiful. The beauty of An gui ren's small, gentle face was overshadowed by the look of plain hunger she wore, eyes always looking to the nearest coattail to ride. Jiang gui ren had an elegant face and sweet lips. A bright smile could have you staring for quite some time.

Said beauty was overshadowed by the sheer amount of adornment that she liked to wear. The sun streamed through the windows and bounced off of the numerous gold hair accessories that decorated her liangbatou. Jiang gui ren's changfu* was a deep green with gold and silver lotus embroidery. She was certainly not afraid of rings and wore two or three on each hand. All three pairs of earrings glistened in the sun. It was the sort of decoration you would expect of woman who slept in the main hall†.

"His Majesty is truly pampering Xiang meimei," said Jiang gui ren as she stepped into the bedroom, "I'm sure that fur is from the Western tributes. Not even Shen jiejie has something so nice,"

Jiang gui ren turned to the servants who had tucked themselves against the walls.

"It looks like these new slaves aren't so bad,"

"This lowly servant thanks you for your grace!" Replied Li Ming.

Grimacing, Jiang gui ren pressed her handkerchief to her nose,

"But these rooms smell...odd,"

"Perhaps it's the incense, my lady," said her eunuch, Haoyu.

"Yes," she replied with a sigh, "I'm used to a different quality,"

"Let's go back to your rooms so you don't damage your health," said An gui ren.

Jiang gui ren and her entourage swanned away and the servants bid her farewell.

"It's getting late. Go to the kitchens and eat. Don't take more than 15 minutes," said Wang gugu.

Molan stuck to her like glue as they walked through the streets of the Forbidden City.

"You know I don't think I've seen you before. How old are you?"

"18,"

"Oh, so you're Jiayi jiejie! Where did the send you during the last draft? Or did you come from the one before?"

Jiayi swallowed. She knew that she would have to make up a lie about her background but she didn't think she would have to do it so soon.

"Does it matter where she came from? She ended up here so she couldn't be that good," Li Ming walked by, knocking her shoulder into Molan's.

"Li Ming meimei, don't forget, you're here, too! Why do you suddenly care about being good or bad? I saw how much time you spend staring at the guards who pass by, its obvious you want to show them how good you can be,"

Furious, Li Ming's face turned a splotchy red all over, "Shut your mouth," she snapped grabbing at Molan's collar.

"What's wrong with you?" Jiayi hissed, throwing Li Ming's hand away, "If you keep acting like this Wang gugu will have us all sent to the hard labor camps and as sinjeku as well. You wouldn't last a day in there,"

"Mind your own business," Replied Li Ming as she yanked her hand back. She glared at them before walking ahead.

Jiayi just walked along with a shake of her head. It was just her luck that she was serving alongside such a petty girl. If The Empress or the Imperial Noble Consort had passed by and saw their little display, they would be as good as dead. While it would still be a step above from being sent back to Su gonggong, Jiayi wasn't going to let childish fight and churlish behavior stand in the way of her new, simple life.

Jiayi walked through the courtyard of the Imperial Kitchen and felt her stomach grumble. At the hard labor camp, breakfast was thin congee and steamed wilted vegetables that were one step above pig feed. It was late in the day now and she was feeling drained from all the excitement.

The servants entered a side door to collect their meals and could sit and eat in the back courtyard or return to their palace. When the kitchen servant handed her a bowl of brilliantly bright fried rice, Jiayi thought she had ascended. It had been so long since she'd eaten food with color, spice and flavor! There were even bits of pork hiding in the rice. Pork!

"Fried rice again?" Muttered Molan as they sat down to eat, "It's always the same stuff,"

Jiayi didn't bother to respond to her griping and gulped down her food. She tried to savor it, but one mouthful became ten very quickly.

Molan gaped at Jiayi's empty bowl. Not a single grain of rice was left behind, "Finished already?"

"I was hungry," Jiayi replied.

That wasn't a lie, at least. If she wasn't so sure she'd get slapped, she'd go back inside and ask for another bowl.

"Ah, it's Shiyi gugu, tidy up," said Molan. She put bowl to the side and stood.

Like Wang gugu, Shiyi gugu, The Empress' chief maid, was a figure of legends. The rumors that trickled to the outer place told of the countless plots the Shiyi foiled in the name of her master.

"Shiyi gugu," Jiayi bowed her head as the older woman stood in front of them.

"What palace do you belong to?" Shiyi gugu asked, her voice clear and crisp.

"This servant belongs to Xianfugong," replied Jiayi.

"Whatever troubles the Household department may have doesn't excuse this sloppy behavior,"

Sloppy? Yes, she was wearing a maid's uniform but Jiayi still thought they were beautiful! She looked down at her chest, did some rice fall? Did her greasy fingers leave a stain?

Shiyi gugu picked up her arm, "Your clothes don't fit, girl,"

"Oh,"

Jiayi held out her hands and realized that the sleeves were halfway up her forearms. Her ankles felt a bit breezy too, so she could tell without looking that her pants were also a bit short.

Molan bowed her head, "It's this servant's fault. It was the only spare uniform in Xiang gui ren's rooms,"

Shiyi gugu sighed, "Before your mistress arrives you should do your best to appear as modest and clean as possible. Go to the Clothing House and find clothes that fit. If you I see you like this again, I'll have you flogged,"

"Yes!" Jiayi replied, her heart racing. Fung gonggong hadn't been joking. All Jiayi did was wear clothes that were a bit short and now she was being threatened by The Empress' chief maid!

With a final sniff, Shiyi gugu went on her way.

Molan put a hand on her shoulder, "Do you want me to come with you?"

Jiayi shook her head, "No, it's alright. I'll grab a new uniform and head back. But, can you remind me how to get to the Clothing House from here?"

There were a few twists and turns and a scolding from the momo†† in charge but Jiayi returned Xianfugong with a new uniform that hopefully fit. Jiang gui ren's side of palace was empty and the other servants had returned from lunch.

"Miserable bitch..."

Jiayi paused and looked around. She walked deeper into Xiang gui ren's apartments.

"Smug, know-it-all bitch..."

The furious muttering was coming from the maids' rooms. Jiayi crept closer to the door and peeked inside. Li Ming was crouched under Molan's bed, fiddling with something. There was a jangle of metal and the scrape of old wood. Jiayi walked backwards silently and let her feet hit the ground as she walked to the doors once more.

Li Ming had scurried over to her own bed and was pretending to fold something.

"What are you doing here?" She spat.

"Shiyi gugu told me I was looked sloppy so I came back here to change," Jiayi replied.

"I'm not surprised," said Li Ming looking Jiayi up and down, "Just look at you. No lipstick, no rouge, and you can barely dress yourself. You're barely a woman,"

"I'm a maid, not a gêgê,§" Jiayi replied, stepping close to the bed next Li Ming.

"Stop there! I won't have you anywhere close to me. There's an empty bed over there by that idiot,"

"Fine!"

Jiayi stomped over to the furthest bed. It was obvious why no one slept there, it was directly underneath the window. Rain, snow; she'd be pelted by it all when the time came. Sighing she dropped the new uniform and began to undress.

"You're certainly some kind of woman," said Li Ming, "Taking off your clothes with no shame. Shiyi gugu was right to house you here,"

"You're the one staying to look,"

Li Ming huffed and left the room. Jiayi redressed in the new uniform and was pleased to see that it fit much better than before. However her happiness was short-lived. She knew Li Ming was being petty, but her words poked at her like an annoying splinter. As a child, Jiayi loved to dress in pretty silks and decorate herself with her mother and little mother's jewelry. However, as she got older, she began to grow.

And grow.

And grow.

She began to feel awkward dolling herself up so much when she was so much taller than girls her age. All it did was draw attention to how different she was. It's why she picked up drawing. She could draw the beautiful hair and red lips of an imaginary beauty and pretend that it was her. When it came for her family to be punished for her father's crimes, they initially wanted to give her away as a concubine before confirming her age.

Thankfully, she stopped growing a few years ago, but her aversion to beautiful things remained. She found it too unfair. Li Ming was beautiful but didn't deserve it at all. All she did was spew ugly words from a pretty mouth. Not to mention whatever she was doing to Molan's bed.

What was Li Ming doing under Molan's bed?

Jiayi strained to hear the sounds of anyone in the pavilion or in the courtyard. When she confirmed that she was truly alone, Jiayi crouched down near Molan's bed to see underneath. There was nothing there. But that couldn't be. Jiayi heard something when she saw Li Ming down here. A memory of an old bunkmate hiding food under the floorboards until it spoiled came to her. Jiayi began to press against the floorboards before finding a shaky one. She pried it open and stuck her hand inside to feel cool metal. She pulled it out and gasped.

It was a gold buyao¶. An imperial green piece of jade carved like a rose sat on top while the tassels were made from hundreds of tiny pearls and diamonds. Jiayi distinctly remembered admiring this buyao on the vanity in Xiang gui ren's bedroom.

Jiayi walked over to Li Ming's bed and stuck the hair pin in between the mattress and the frame. Jiayi had to think of her future. With Li Ming's attitude, Jiayi would be doing Xiang gui ren a disservice if she allowed the miserable maid to stay.

It would be better for everyone.

––––

"Jiejie is so talented," gushed Molan as she shuffled through Jiayi's collection of drawings as the maids readied themselves for bed. It was well into the night when Shiyi gugu was satisfied with their work.

"This frog is so cute," said Ping'er, "It's fishing!"

Ping'er had crawled over to Molan's bed to take a look. At 13 years old, Ping'er was full of giggles and smiles. She'd only been in the palace for a few months.

"Shut up over there," Li Ming snapped as she turned down her bed spread, "If you still have the energy to chat bullshit so late at night, Shiyi gugu obviously isn't working you hard enough,"

Molan rolled her eyes, "Whatever. Jiejie, do you do portraits? You should draw me,"

"And me!" Said Ping'er.

Jiayi took the papers and tossed them under her bed, "We can talk about it in the morning. I'm exhausted!"

Ping'er doused the lamp and they all crawled into bed. Jiayi closed her eyes and settled into her bed. No longer did she sleep on a hay filled mattress with a coarse cloth that masqueraded as a blanket. It far an above then anything she could've dreamed of after being forced to serve in the palace. Jiayi vowed to live a good life as a palace maid. She would let nothing snatch this comfort from her for the second time in her life. Jiayi closed her eyes and fell into a deep, dark sleep.

Only to jolt out of bed hours later as stinging licks walloped her legs and chest. Screams and shouts rang through the room.

"Shut up!"

Jiayi cradled her body and knelt on the ground. In the darkness she couldn't see a thing. What was going on? Who would have the gall to cause such a ruckus like this? Were they being punished?

"Get up! Up!"

A hand yanked at her nightclothes and dragged her outside. Jiayi tripped over the ledge to the receiving room and fell to the ground. She heard her roommates being thrown into the room with her. The lamps were lit and Jiayi looked up in terror at Wang gugu's cold face. Standing next to her were a few momos, each holding a thin stick of bamboo.

"Gugu," Ping'er cried, "What's going on?"

Ping'er screamed as a momo whipped her across the back.

"Shut up!"

"Confess," ordered Wang gugu.

"We..we are ignorant and dimwitted," whispered Molan, "Please guide us!"

A momo raised her stick to whip Molan but Wang gugu held out her hand.

"There is a thief in Xianfugong. Men!"

A troop of eunuchs trailed inside, "Your servant is here," they chorused.

"Search their rooms," Wang gugu told the eunuchs before turning to the momos, "Whip them until it's found. If its not found, take them to the Department of Careful Punishment and whip them to death,"

Jiayi hissed as the first hit lashed across her back. She tried to flinch away but the momo wrenched back upright. The red hot pain blistered across her back. Jiayi was sure she bit her lip bloody holding in her screams. The world around deafened to a buzz as cold sweat dripped down her face.

A eunuch returned to report to Wang gugu, "We've found it,"

Wang gugu looked at momos who stopped their whippings at once.

"Show me," she ordered. The eunuch led Wang gugu to the back room.

Jiayi fought keep upright. Every flinch or twist made her back erupt with pain. Ping'er, Molan, and Li Ming were no better. Ping'er wouldn't stop screaming so the momos stuffed her mouth with a rag. It looked like every drop of blood had drained from Molan's face. Wang gugu came back, holding the gold buyao in her hands.

Smirking, she said, "You're all very lucky,"

"This lowly one thanks you for your grace," Jiayi nodded her head and hoped that sufficed as a bow.

Wang gugu pointed at Li Ming, "Take her away!"

Li Ming jolted in shock, "Impossible! Impossible! Wang gugu, you've made a mistake!" She cried as the eunuchs grabbed her.

"Oh?" Said Wang gugu, "Says who?"

"Those worthless dogs don't know a thing!" Li Ming said, sagging in between her captors, "They don't know who's bed is who's!"

"Sun Li Ming," Wang gugu said, "When did I say this was found in a bed?"

Li Ming's eyes widened, her mouth quivering, "Wang gugu–"

"Chen momo," Wang gugu began, addressing one of the heavier set women, "Take special care of her when she comes to you,"

Chen momo bowed, "This servant understands," She nodded to the eunuchs holding Li Ming, "Go!"

"Wang gugu!!"

Sucking her teeth, Chen momo pulled the wet rag from Ping'er's mouth and shoved it in Li Ming's.

"You'll wake the entire city with your stupidness," Chen momo said as she shook her head.

"We'll take our leave,"

Li Ming was dragged away and the servants followed after.

Jiayi stared at the open door way, dazed. Ping'er was quietly sobbing and Molan slumped over to the floor. Wang gugu stepped over her and into Xiang gui ren's bedroom. She delicately lifted the lacquered jewelry box lid and softly placed the hair pin inside.

"You understand your mistake?"

"This lowly one understands," Jiayi replied.

"Good," Wang gugu said with a smile.

––––––––––––– *A type of everyday informal robe with 1 side slit and 5 buttons. †Concubines of the ranks noble lady and below lived in side halls or side rooms in palaces. Imperial concubines and above slept in the main halls of palaces, which were the largest and most opulent. Imperial concubines and above could call themselves the 'master' of a palace ††Title given to elder maids §Title given to young, upper class Manchu, unmarried women ¶Hair stick with hanging tassel

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[unovanhunny]

Hmmmmm … how about trans submas just being sweet and supportive to each other in more „intimate but not necessarily sexual ways“? Emmet helping Ingo put on his binder, Ingo doing Emmets T-Shots for him, them fretting over top surgery scars ? That kinda deal? Can of course involve other identities other than masc / masc leaning / presenting as well. Ingo reassuring his sister trough an dysphoric episode, Ingo getting encouraged by Emmet to wear that suit if they want to, it doesn’t make them look any less pretty and femme etc.

Trans Submas isn't typically my thing, but I don't mind doing something for this! I don't know if you wanted specifically art or writing, but I can do a ficlet based on this idea.

"Safety check. How long has it been, is your breathing okay?"

It was lunch and with them alone in the office, it was as good a time as any to check in. The door was locked so no one could intrude. Taking in as deep a breath as he could manage, Ingo's usual frown deepened a little.

"I think now would be a good time to take a break. Will you help me?"

On bad days, Ingo would wear the binder; on good days, he would wear a less restrictive compression top. When he woke up that morning, it had been a bad day. And with it being the start of summer and some parts of the station being less air conditioned than others, the four hours from clock-in til lunch were felt. At least for their lunch break, he could remove it for a while. They had extra compression tops and binders stored for just such occasions, if they needed to switch out to something fresher or their needs had changed.

Removing hat and coat and hanging them on the coatrack by the door, Ingo moved further into the office to unbutton his shirt and hang it off the back of his chair. And then the white tank underneath went, leaving him only with the hardest part. It was meant to rest tight and that coupled with sweat from the heat certainly made it nearly impossible to remove on his own. And that's where Emmet came in.

With a smile and deft hands that Ingo knew all too well, together they worked to slowly roll up and pull off the binder over Ingo's head, the touch of his brother's fingers against his warm and sensitive skin leaving tingles.

Now discarded, Emmet did the work of placing the black cloth in the bag they had stashed in a bottom desk drawer for just this reason, while Ingo pulled the white tank back on over his head. Alone or not, it was far from proper to be entirely topless while at work. Taking a few deep breaths in, finding the action much easier and his lungs able to fill more, Ingo felt much better. He would opt for a compression top when they had to return, the heat wasn't going anywhere most likely.

"Let's eat." Grabbing their lunches from home from the mini fridge they had in their office, Ingo plopped them down on the desk, where Emmet joined him only a moment later with water bottles.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes, much."

"Good!" Emmet pressed a kiss to Ingo's temple as he started to unpack the lunches.

-

"Your hands are going to get manlier faster than the rest of you at this rate."

"We can't cuddle for a while after the gel is applied, so at least give me this."

It wasn't as though Emmet hated needles, he just wasn't fond of the idea of having to get stuck with one on a monthly basis. Sure the results with gel were slower, but he was willing to take the trade off.

Ingo was less fond of the idea that once Emmet applied the gel, he needed to be left to dry for a few hours. Meaning no cuddles or anything that may accidentally wipe it off. And so he had insisted from the onset that he would be the one to apply it. Try and get his fill of touching before Emmet would be off limits for a while. And no gloves needed. It wasn't as though he didn't wash his hands immediately after, and a little more testosterone in his system wouldn't hurt.

"You are not going to lay with me?" The little froggy pout had Ingo sighing and placing a kiss to Emmet's forehead.

"Of course I will, but it's not the same as my usual koala cling, and you know it." Ingo patted Emmet's stomach twice before resuming the gentle massage to get the gel properly spread across his skin.

"I do like it when you do that. But we can hold hands and watch something in the meantime."

"As if you had a choice!" Emmet stared for a moment before chuckling, Ingo joining him. "You can't get away with not at least holding my hand if I must refrain from anything more."

"I would never dream of it." Letting out a sigh at the touch, Emmet watched Ingo's focused face of concentration with so much affection.

Drifting into a comfortable silence, it was all too soon that Ingo straightened out and headed to the bathroom to wash the remaining gel from his hands. With a wiggle, Emmet shifted to leave more space beside him for Ingo to join him.

And join he did, a few moment later, hand clasping cool clean hand. And the words that had been on the tip of Emmet's tongue came tumbling out as Ingo rested his head against Emmet's shoulder.

"I love you."

[hriobzagelthewanderer]

"So if this is where you live, why's it look ugly? Do you not clean at all? We need to buy you a swiffer mop or somethin'. The build up in here would not pass the mom test. Does Mama need ta come in here and teach you how ta clean?"

She's nitpicking his home "Need ta teach you how ta decorate too. I'd say this place needs a lady's touch, but even my Baba decorated better than this and he was a single dad for 1300 years! Then again, I was also doin' a lot of decoratin' myself by paintin' on the walls. Maybe I should paint somethin' for you! Maybe we get some brighter colors in here too. How do ya feel about pink?"

"Warden loooves pink. It's his favorite color. Everythin' he owns is pink to a degree. I'm partial to green myself, but you got enough green out here livin' in tha middle of a mountain. Maybe we get some blues in here, and whites- OH! How about magenta? Magenta's a good color. Though Mama likes red. OOOOO, how about some red strips on the columns? That might look nice. Or we could do some diamond patterns, or polkadots. OH! Auntie's got some real neat lookin' patterns on her walls. She calls her style vi- vic- victormium? Victananaiam?"

He wasn't paid enough for this... well, he was doing this out of the goodness of his heart, but you get the idea.

Taking a deep breath to focus... then another to focus on his innate powers, the Fae exhales slow and evenly... as a number of flowering vines appear and spread over all the walls: Morning Glories, Clematis, and Jasmine blooming and spreading their vibrant violets, burgundies, and whites along with fresh tapestries of green... while a far subtler pulse of magic re-polishes the remaining stone and wood as any remaining traces of dust or grime evaporate.

"...is that better? Paint is one thing, but the more living things are down here, the better for me, and the fresher the air around us. What do you think?"

[sarcasticdolphin]

“Journey” Smrtolf? More Smrt and (Adult) Rudolf. 

Cut is for Rudolf’s state of mind. It’s .... very poor. Takes place before Spiegel.

For the amazing @adridoesstuff as all of my Czech Elisabeth drabbles are :)

He barely looked up to the driver as he slid into the carriage. The man had his cowl pulled up, and his robe seemed odd, almost asymmetric, but with the weather Rudolf couldn’t really bring himself to think about it. The carriage was a small one, not a grand imperial thing, but functional enough. The snow - wet and heavy - was unpleasant even in the seconds it took to exit the palace and climb in. He didn’t have to say a destination - the driver already knew, and the steady hoofbeats of the horses began.

It would be a good few hours to Mayerling, especially considering the weather.

So Rudolf let his mind drift off to the steady beat of horse hooves, laying his cheek against the cold window of the carriage. He wanted to sink into nothingness, to let his mind empty. But the last conversation he had with his father - if one could really call it that - played over and over in his head.

It had been more a lecture or a reprimand than a conversation - he certainly hadn’t gotten a word in edgewise. Rudolf shuts his eyes, hoping for a moment of peace, but instead imagined specters dance before him. His father’s cold disappointment, and the glares of his father’s ministers.

Shaking his head, he glances out the cold window. The landscape is a myriad of dark woods and white snow - though the white was only an illusion. There had been an unseasonable warm spell, and the woods would be full of dark cold mud. It was the worst time of the year for hunting.

So why had he even decided to go to Mayerling, to begin with? It was a retreat, and admonition of weakness. And an obvious one, at this time of year. He shouldn’t be going. But to turn back now would be to show even greater weakness. 

He’s tired, but sleep would be no remedy for him. Not that kind of exhaustion - not tiredness. Perhaps it would be better said that he is weary of this backstabbing world he had been born into. Fair, beautiful Vienna, the imperial capital where even children spun intrigues for fun.

Rudolf’s thoughts continue to spiral, and shaking his head is of no service - his mind is over-anxious. And so he bangs twice on the door. The steady beat of the horse hooves stops, and Rudolf opens the door, stumbling out of the carriage before the driver has any hope of getting down to open it for him.

The air seemed colder, sharper than it had been inside the carriage. It was certainly fresher, and less stale.

Rudolf took one deep breath, then another, glancing around. They were at a point where the road paralleled a small stream. There were no rivers on the road to Mayerling, certainly nothing like the mighty Danube, but this stream was nothing to sneeze at, the quickly rushing water audible over the noises of the horses.

The driver was climbing down - no doubt to ask if Rudolf was alright, but the prince found himself taking a few steps away, to look at the little stream - its banks were choked with snow, and wherever the snow wasn’t dark rock predominated. There wasn’t so much as a spec of green. The forest might as well be dead.

“My prince.” The tension in Rudolf’s shoulders bleeds away at the unmistakable voice.

“My friend.” Smrt is standing beside him a moment later.

They stand for a long moment in silence, the only noises coming from the rushing water and the horses. The snow had stopped sometime earlier, though Rudolf isn’t sure when.

“What river is this?” It’s a poetic question, but his friend will understand. It’s not the rushing steam he’s asking about. Will it end?

He hopes beyond hope to hear a name. He wants everything to end. To be free. If not from the world, then free from the gilded cage he has lived in all his life.

“This stream has no name, my prince.” Rudolf hates Smrt’s answer. Smrt knows well what words he wanted to hear. Styx. Lethe.

He blinks, and wants to see a little boat, a ferry. There is none - this is a stream he could step across with ease. Even during the melt, there would be no need.

There is a snort from one of the horses. Hurry up.

Rudolf glances back at the carriage, then at his friend, then back at the little stream. The rocky gully it sits in looks treacherous, and it would be so now even more than usual - ice, snow, and wet rocks make a most treacherous combination. But part of Rudolf - a far larger part than he would admit, but his friend undoubtedly knows already, wants to climb down those rocks. To look for the little ferry he’s imagined. 

Would his friend be the boatman? Or would it be the gaunt old man of Dante?

He turns away, and walked back up the few steps toward the carriage. The ground isn’t treacherously slippery, but with the slope, it seems as if the earth itself wants him to descend the gorge.

His friend steps beside him, glancing at Rudolf for a long moment before climbing up to the driver’s seat. Rudolf for his part finds the handle that will open the carriage, but thinks better of it, climbing up after his friend, sitting beside him atop the carriage.

His friend raises an eyebrow, but gives a flick of his whip, and with the sound, the horses are off again.

Their speed isn’t notable - the horses are at a walk - but the carriage feels so much more unsteady, the height magnifying each imperfection in the muddy road. Rudolf grasps the bar before them, making sure not to look down.

It doesn’t work for long, though he manages a glance at the horses before him rather than to the side. Only two - though this is a light carriage, Rudolf isn’t sure why he would expect more - but they are both great black creatures, and on their heads - feathers.

The carriage is black, the horses the same, and though the feathered plumes are gone when Rudolf blinks, he was the indelible feeling that it is not his carriage that he rides in, but his hearse.

“Am I going to die tonight?”

His friend doesn’t answer for a long moment. “It is not my place to appoint the moment of your passing.”

A non-answer if ever Rudolf has ever heard one. His father’s ministers are so fond of them. The tiredness is back, the weariness. But even now, it’s not the cold. Not something he could sleep off. He’s weary of the world, and Rudolf so wants to lay his head on Smrt’s shoulder, to shut his eyes and never open them.

It would be so easy - he and Smrt are sitting close enough, and Rudolf glances at his friend, his eyes fluttering shut.

They open again a moment later. He shouldn’t do that to his friend, and he glances away, embarrassed. It’s a mistake. The muddy road is so far below them, and it looks so enticing at that moment. Rudolf imagines it rushing toward him all too quickly.

“My friend.” His voice sounds hollow.

“Rudolf.” Smrt sounds entirely put together. 

“Will you hold me?” A dangerous question if ever there was one, so he speaks again, fingers twitching together, words nervous. “When it’s time. I-” he takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It doesn’t work “I don’t want to die alone.”

Rudolf isn’t sure he expects an answer, but after a moment his friend does speak.

“I’ll hold you until it’s over.”

The prince lets out a breath at that, and when he glances down again the ground no longer looks so inviting.

The roof of his hunting lodge is coming into sight only a few minutes later. They don’t speak as they approach, slowing before halting. 

Rudolf clambers down hastily - the servants here won’t ask questions, but it would be better he not even give them the opportunity to see him atop the carriage. He walks up to the horses, stroking their muzzles. 

Smrt is down a few moments later, and a groom helps them lead the horses to the stables. The young man is obviously flustered to be in Rudolf’s presence, to witness the sight that is the Crown Prince attending to his own horses.

Rudolf sends the young groom off to inform the senior servants of his arrival, undoing the harnesses and beginning the task of brushing the animals down. The groom can get them food and water when he returns. Smrt stays with him, leaning against the wall of the stall, observing.

“Do they have names?”

“Stín is the one you are grooming now. Tma is the other one.”

Rudolf almost rolls his eyes at the names. Smrt isn’t always as subtle as he can be.

The task gets his blood flowing, but the groom returns soon enough, and Rudolf is tired - no less weary, but truly tired now. He leaves the groom to his work and heads into his lodge.

His friend stays with him, and no one questions it. Rudolf doesn’t mind, though if his friend is expecting good company he will be sorely disappointed. Rudolf for his part mindlessly strips off the clothes he had worn on the journey, finding his sleeping attire. He hasn’t eaten since noon, but he doesn’t care. He’s tired. He can eat in the morning.

The prince flops on the bed, tapping the unoccupied side of it. His friend looks skeptical, but sits atop the covers. Rudolf shifts a little closer to his friend, looking at his hands first before glancing up into Smrt’s eyes.

“Would it be so bad? For it to be tonight?” Because he wants, and in a deep-seated way. And the weariness isn’t gone, just because he’s tired.

Smrt’s glove is gone, and he’s reaching out, his hand closing in on Rudolf’s cheek - and Rudolf leans toward the hand. He wants nothing more.

But Smrt pulls the hand back. “Your mother is returning to Vienna.”

Rudolf is at once furious and resigned at his friend’s refusal, but both are forgotten as he registers the words. His mother is returning. She’s like him. She’ll help him. Surely, she’ll help him. His father will be happy again. Rudolf will be happy again. The world will be put to rights.

He smiles, glancing up at his friend. “Thank you.” And he’s glad, for the knowledge she will return. For his part, he’ll return to the city in the morning. If his mother is returning, he wants to be ready.

[profile-234]

Why Deep Cleaning is Essential for a Healthier Home

Deep cleaning is something many of us overlook in our regular cleaning routines, but it plays a vital role in creating a healthier, safer living space. We tend to focus on surface-level tasks like vacuuming and wiping down counters, but deep cleaning digs into all the nooks and crannies of your home. This type of cleaning doesn’t just make your home look spotless; it also helps improve air quality, eliminate allergens, and create an environment that is much safer and more comfortable to live in. So, why is deep cleaning essential for a healthier home? Let’s explore the reasons!

1. Removes Built-Up Dirt and Dust

Over time, dust, dirt, and grime can accumulate in places that aren’t immediately visible—like under furniture, behind appliances, and in vents. These areas can harbor harmful allergens and bacteria that affect your air quality. Deep cleaning ensures every surface gets a thorough scrub, leaving your home free from hidden dust bunnies. Regular cleaning can't always reach these tucked-away spots, but deep cleaning ensures a complete clean, including those hard-to-reach areas.

2. Eliminates Bacteria and Germs

We all know how important hygiene is, especially with the constant concerns about germs and viruses. While basic cleaning can get rid of surface dirt, deep cleaning focuses on sanitizing areas that are often missed, such as light switches, doorknobs, and other high-touch surfaces. This not only reduces the spread of germs but also lowers the risk of illness. Plus, with all that extra attention to detail, your home will feel and smell much fresher.

3. Improves Air Quality

Did you know that your home's air quality can be significantly impacted by dust, pet dander, and other particles floating around? These pollutants can aggravate allergies, asthma, and other respiratory conditions. A deep clean helps to remove these allergens by thoroughly cleaning carpets, upholstery, air vents, and other places where dust tends to gather. This ensures the air you breathe is much cleaner, helping you and your family stay healthy.

4. Prolongs the Life of Your Belongings

Regular deep cleaning doesn’t just improve hygiene—it can actually help extend the lifespan of your furniture, carpets, and appliances. By removing grime, oils, and sticky residues, deep cleaning ensures that these items stay in good condition for longer. For example, deep cleaning carpets not only keeps them looking fresh but also prevents dirt buildup that could wear them down over time. Similarly, wiping down kitchen appliances, sinks, and countertops can prevent corrosion or discoloration.

5. Promotes a More Organized Home

When you deep clean, you're not just cleaning your space—you're also organizing it. You’ll have to go through your closets, cabinets, and drawers to move items around and clean behind them. This gives you the perfect opportunity to declutter, which leads to a more organized and efficient home. You might even come across items you forgot about, and it’s a great time to donate or discard things you no longer need.

6. Enhances Your Mental Well-Being

A cluttered and dirty home can make us feel stressed and overwhelmed. It’s hard to feel relaxed in a space that’s messy or not properly cleaned. On the other hand, living in a freshly cleaned home can improve your mental health and overall well-being. A clean space brings a sense of calm and peace, allowing you to focus better and feel more productive. It’s also rewarding to know you’re living in a space that’s clean and safe for your loved ones.

7. Essential for Specific Areas of the Home

Some areas in your home require more attention than others. For instance, the kitchen and bathroom are two areas where deep cleaning is particularly important. Kitchens deal with food preparation, spills, and grease buildup, while bathrooms are exposed to bacteria and moisture. Regular cleaning can miss those problem areas, but deep cleaning takes care of the grime and germs that can accumulate. Whether it’s scrubbing the grout or cleaning the inside of your oven, deep cleaning covers all of these tasks and more.

Why Choose Deep Cleaning Services?

While deep cleaning can be time-consuming, it’s well worth the effort for the health and well-being of your home. If you find it difficult to dedicate time to deep cleaning or just want professional help, hiring a deep cleaning service is a fantastic solution.

For residents in Jacksonville, FL, Evolution DR Cleaning offers an expert deep cleaning service that can help you achieve a spotless, healthier home. Their team goes beyond basic cleaning, ensuring every corner of your space is thoroughly cleaned, sanitized, and deodorized. Whether you’re dealing with heavy-duty messes or just need a seasonal refresh, Evolution DR Cleaning will leave your home looking and feeling brand new.

So, if you’re ready to breathe easier, live healthier, and enjoy a cleaner, more organized home, don’t hesitate to call Evolution DR Cleaning for their professional deep cleaning service today. Your home deserves it, and so do you!

[ductcleandoctormelb]

Breathe Easy with Professional Duct Cleaning in Melbourne

When was the last time you checked your ducts? If you're noticing dust buildup or allergies flaring up, it's time for a deep clean. Duct Cleaning Melbourne services by Duct Clean Doctor offer the perfect solution to improve your indoor air quality and keep your home fresh.

Melbourne's unpredictable weather means your ducted heating system works overtime. Over time, dust, dirt, and allergens accumulate inside your ducts, circulating through your home. Regular Ducted Heating Cleaning Melbourne prevents this buildup and ensures your system runs efficiently. Not only does this improve air quality, but it also reduces energy bills by helping your system work smoothly.

Take advantage of our limited-time Duct Cleaning Special! Our expert team uses advanced equipment to remove dust, allergens, and contaminants from your ducts. We prioritise your health and comfort by delivering thorough, reliable cleaning services. Clean ducts mean cleaner air, fewer allergies, and a more comfortable living space for you and your family.

Duct Clean Doctor has built a reputation in Melbourne for exceptional service and customer satisfaction. We understand how vital it is to maintain a healthy home environment. Our experienced technicians work quickly and efficiently, ensuring minimal disruption to your day.

Don't wait until dust and allergens take over. Book your Duct Cleaning Melbourne service today and breathe fresher air tomorrow! Plus, with our current Duct Cleaning Special, there's never been a better time to invest in your home's comfort.

Contact Duct Clean Doctor now for professional Ducted Heating Cleaning Melbourne and experience the difference a clean duct system can make. Call us or book online to secure your spot!

Breathe easy—your clean air journey starts here with Duct Clean Doctor.

Source

[amalgambio24]

No More Holding Your Breath: Bioculture Solutions for Wastewater Treatment

Wastewater treatment plants (WWTPs) are essential for protecting public health and the environment. But let's face it, they can be... smelly. The unpleasant odors associated with wastewater treatment are a common problem, often causing complaints from nearby residents and businesses. But what if there was a way to tackle these odors without resorting to harsh chemicals or expensive equipment? Enter biocultures for STP!

What are Biocultures?

Bioculture manufacturer are mixtures of beneficial microorganisms that can be added to wastewater treatment systems to enhance the biological processes that break down organic matter. These microscopic helpers work tirelessly to digest pollutants, reduce sludge, and – you guessed it – control odors!

How do Biocultures Combat Odors in Wastewater Treatment?

The foul smells emanating from wastewater treatment plants are primarily caused by the release of volatile organic compounds (VOCs) and sulfur compounds. These are byproducts of the decomposition of organic matter. Biocultures work by:

Outcompeting odor-causing bacteria: By introducing a large population of beneficial bacteria, biocultures effectively crowd out the microorganisms that produce unpleasant smells.

Accelerating the breakdown of organic matter: Biocultures boost the efficiency of the treatment process, ensuring that organic waste is rapidly degraded before it has a chance to release those nasty odors.

Reducing sludge production: Efficient breakdown of organic matter also leads to less sludge buildup, which is another major source of odors in wastewater treatment plants.

Choosing the Right Bioculture Manufacturer

Not all biocultures are created equal. When selecting a bioculture manufacturer for your wastewater treatment needs, consider the following factors:

Experience and expertise: Look for a manufacturer with a proven track record in the wastewater treatment industry.

Product quality and efficacy: Ensure the biocultures are specifically formulated for odor control in wastewater treatment and have undergone rigorous testing.

Customization options: A reputable bioculture manufacturer should be able to provide customized solutions tailored to your specific wastewater characteristics and treatment goals.

Technical support: Choose a manufacturer that offers ongoing technical support to help you optimize the use of their biocultures.

Benefits Beyond Odor Control

While odor control in wastewater treatment is a major advantage, biocultures offer a range of other benefits:

Improved treatment efficiency: Biocultures enhance the biological processes in the treatment plant, leading to better removal of pollutants and improved effluent quality.

Reduced operating costs: By increasing efficiency and reducing sludge production, biocultures can help lower energy consumption and disposal costs.

Environmentally friendly solution: Biocultures are a natural and sustainable alternative to harsh chemicals, minimizing the environmental impact of wastewater treatment.

Biocultures: A Breath of Fresh Air for Wastewater Treatment

With increasing pressure to meet stringent environmental regulations and address community concerns, biocultures for STP are becoming an essential tool for wastewater treatment plant operators. By effectively tackling odor issues and improving overall treatment efficiency, biocultures offer a sustainable and cost-effective solution for cleaner, fresher wastewater treatment. So, take a deep breath and explore the power of biocultures for your wastewater treatment needs!

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Learn How Deep Cleaning Improves Office Ventilation

The air quality can make a big difference in how we feel and work. Bad indoor air quality can lead to weariness, respiratory diseases, allergies and even serious health issues in the longer run. Still the condition of air quality goes unnoticed and is not looked at, unless a serious problem arises.

One of the best ways to improve and maintain good air quality is by regular deep cleaning. In this blog we will discuss how deep cleaning provides a boost to productivity and your business by improving air quality .

Why Indoor Air Quality Is Important

Office environments are usually filled with pollutants. Dust, mold spores, pollen and VOCs from office supplies and cleaning products can get collected over time. With the lack of proper ventilation these pollutants spread in the air and affect employee health.

Bad air quality can cause problems like:

Breathing Problems: Bad air quality can make asthma or other lung problems worse.

Fatigue and Headaches: Polluted air reduces oxygen level. This causes fatigue and irritation.

Allergies: Dust and molds can trigger sneezing and itchy eyes.

Poor air quality not only affects health but also decreases productivity.

How Deep Cleaning Enhances Air Quality

Deep cleaning is not only about enhancing the appearance of your office but thoroughly cleaning every hidden spot. Some of the ways deep cleaning helps improve your air quality is:

1. Removing Dust and Allergens

Often dirt gets collected in unreachable areas like air vents, behind bulky furniture and shelves. By regular deep cleaning you can decrease the amount of pollutants which otherwise can spread through the HVAC systems. In a deep cleaning session, carpets, sofas, curtains are also taken care of and are dry cleaned and vacuumed..

2. Preventing Mold Growth

The perfect condition for mold to grow are moist and badly ventilated areas like washrooms, kitchens and cafeterias. Once mold spores become airborne they can easily spread in the entire office. Office Deep cleaning identifies and works on these areas by ensuring mold is removed and preventative measures are taken.

3. Sanitizing Air Vents and HVAC Systems

HVAC Systems are meant to bring in fresh air but if they are not maintained properly they can scatter pollutants. Air vents are properly cleaned in a deep clean session and scattering of dust, mold and bacteria is prevented. Cleaner vents lead to fresher and healthier air for everyone in the office.

4. Reducing VOCs

Volatile organic compounds (VOCs) are dangerous emissions from office supplies and furniture. Deep cleaning services use non-toxic cleaning agents to minimize the introduction of new VOCs into the air.

Signs Your Office Needs a Deep Cleaning

It is not always evident, when your office needs deep cleaning. But some obvious signs are-

Constant odors that don’t go away with regular cleaning.

Dust buildup on surfaces especially in less frequently used areas.

Employees reporting allergies, headaches or breathing problems.

Seeing mold in bathrooms or near air vents.

Employees feeling less motivated or productive.

Long-Term Benefits of Deep Cleaning

Investing in a deep cleaning service helps boost your business. Better air quality leads to less sick days, increases employee satisfaction and better overall performance. Also  a clean office shows your dedication to employee health, elevating your company’s reputation.

Partnering with a Professional Cleaning Service

Getting great air quality takes more than just a quick clean. Professional cleaners know how to work out tough spots, like vents and hidden corners, using tools and safe products that protect everyone’s health.

Hiring a professional cleaning service isn’t just about appearances but an investment in your team’s health and your company’s success. If you also want to get your office deep cleaned, look no further Balaji Cleaning Agency is here to help you. They are the most reliable office cleaning service Gurgaon.

Our team of professionals specializes in office deep cleaning, focusing on even the toughest spots to ensure a healthy and dust-free environment. Using safe, eco-friendly materials, we target everything from hard-to-reach areas to high-traffic zones, leaving your office fresh and sparkling.

Contact us today to create a cleaner, healthier workspace your employees will love.