#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!

[majestyeverlasting]

can you write something angst like joel miller and reader having bad argument and joel lost his cool and feels bad and trying to fix it, something like that

your fics are amazing btw❤️❤️

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

pairing joel miller x female reader summary after a tough patrol, joel grapples to accept the one thing he craves but fears the most—love [angst, happy ending, 2k] a/n you're more amazing, anon ♡

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

Today’s patrol doesn’t follow Joel home. It fastens itself to his shoulders, forcing him to carry it. Each labored step is a reminder of the long hours spent postured on horseback, rifle slung over his shoulder. If he was twenty years younger, he reckons his body wouldn’t protest against him as often as it does. Unfortunately, there’s no way to chase those years back down. They belong to the past alone, loaned only through memories. 

How he feels at the end of a patrol is a wildcard these days, but he fares better on the mornings he remembers to stretch and when he's man enough to take adequate breaks throughout the shift. 

On days like this, when Joel was paired with fresher, younger guys like Caleb, so many of those wellness practices were disregarded. Being as sharp as possible ensured there were no slower moments that could be taken for weakness. All it took was one second of a lowered guard to be blindsighted. 

Even if Joel wanted to summon a fraction of his youth, he wouldn’t be able to after today. Shouting orders had reduced his voice to a graveled rumble. 

A little past five-o-clock, he and Caleb spotted a group of infected lingering near a fallen body in the distance—a nameless, faceless man sheeted from the most recent snowfall. There was no more breath in his lungs, but it appeared as if he were merely lying there asleep. His puffy blue coat was a pop of color amidst stark white and rogue twigs. 

Caleb insisted on burning the body so the poor man wouldn’t resurrect as the undead. But Joel had witnessed his fair share of courtesies gone wrong. If he didn’t do anything else today, he refused to add the boy to the list of casualties in his consciousness. So he demanded they leave it be. All that mattered was two of them making it back to the commune alive. The man was a stranger after all. And there was no such thing as helping the dead. Not really. 

Even as the Clickers picked up on the trodding of their horses’ hooves, Caleb’s gaze stayed on Joel like he was the monster.

“So we’re just gonna leave him?” Caleb asked. 

Joel dismounted his horse and wrestled his rifle into position. In a quick series of echoing shots, he took down all six infected, their bodies thudding to the snow. A couple ravens fluttered from the treetops, jet black against the pale sky.

“One match, man. It’ll only take a second.” 

“No!” Joel asserted. “We gotta get out of here. Probably just attracted more.” 

So they left him there, face down in the snow. 

By the time Joel crawls up the creaky steps of his front porch, he’s ready to collapse onto the couch, his bed, or any surface willing to catch him. But he won’t sleep because of his buzzing nerves. By some miracle, he sees himself inside, shrugging his backpack to the ground with a weighted thump. 

As drained as he is, the soft shuffling in the kitchen sets him right back on alert. He knew Ellie was at Dina’s tonight, and there was nobody else he’d been expecting over. If he weren’t so on guard, he’d notice the savory scent of garlic and onion in the air. 

The heavy sound of his boots precedes him as he strides into the kitchen. Upon seeing your frame standing at the stove, clad in an oversized knit sweater, Joel freezes in place. The furrow between his brows disappears as if it were never there. You peek over your shoulder with the sweetest smile, and for a moment, he forgets the ache in his muscles. The weariness that feels bone-deep. 

Slowly, however, the crueler side of reality creeps back in despite his efforts to cling to the good. At the very same time, you realize it hadn’t been just another day of patrol for him. There’s a slouch to his shoulders, and slightly bloodshot eyes take inventory of everything around the room while refusing to meet yours. Sympathy is quick to take root. 

You’ve made dinner. He gathers that much, noting a pot bubbling on the stove behind you. His stomach rumbles lowly at the prospect of food. 

“Hi,” you say with a dampened smile. You try again when he doesn’t meet your gaze. “Joel?” 

There’s nowhere to hide since you’re here. He’d anticipated coming back to an empty house where he didn’t have to be perceived. To be seen so intimately. 

A mix of frustration, embarrassment, and unworthiness rise within him to the point where he’s certain he’ll burst. The last person he wants to suffer from the fallout is you. Yet here you are, a selfless presentation that makes him wish he didn’t destroy every ounce of good he touched. 

His attention is intense when it falls on you. An underlying softness tries to prove itself true, only to be engulfed every time it takes a chance. 

“Never asked for all this.” Dinner, Joel means. 

“I know,” you say. “Just figured you’d appreciate it.” There’s a slight waver in your voice as your confidence wanes. 

More of an edge works its way into his. “Didn’t tell me beforehand.”

You attempt to swallow the lump in your throat as it grows in real-time. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

There’s a matter-of-factness to your tone that makes it sound like you’re reading off a script. Like you’ll break through the ice if you misstep. It’s nothing like your usual friendly, laid-back cadence. You’re trying to convince yourself you’re not a stranger. 

“You gave me a key, so I thought I’d use it to do something nice for you.” 

“I gave it to you for emergencies. If something ever goes wrong.” 

A small huff of humorless laughter escapes you. “Why does everything always have to go wrong with you?” 

His sharp, stubbled jaw clenches at the question. 

“Would you rather me be here because I got robbed or because I think I’m being followed?” Your words are soft and steady and all the more piercing for it. “Do we only get to be in each other’s lives when something’s falling apart?” 

Joel takes a step forward. “You’re puttin’ words in my mouth.” 

“Am I Joel?” 

“You are.” 

Your hands fall helplessly by your sides. “Let me be here for you. I want to be here for you.” 

His voice raises before he can check himself, “What about what I want?” 

It’s a question with an answer Joel’s not ready to face. Because it’s you. There was nothing else. He exhales as his gaze flicks to the floor. 

Tears prick in your eyes despite your attempt to to steel yourself against them. “Do you want me to leave?”

Joel’s never heard your voice sound so small. It tears him apart, but all he can say is, “I’m going to take a shower.” 

•••

Fear is a cold, consuming thing. People fear the boogeyman, monsters under their bed—all manner of creatures that lurk when the sun is tucked away. Since the end of the world, few things scared Joel. Tonight, it isn’t the notion of what lurks that scares him. It’s the possibility that when he goes downstairs, you’ll be gone. 

It’s quiet as Joel stands behind his bedroom door retying the drawstring of his pajama pants for the umpteeth time. His thick fingers tremble as much as they had when he was out in the cold. The longer he stalls, the sicker he feels. 

Tommy’s teasing words from a week ago play on a loop in his head. You wouldn’t recognize a good thing if it slapped you ‘cross the face. 

But Joel had recognized you. 

Long before he had a name to put to your unforgettable smile. Before you mosied into his world and made him long to fall into your orbit. Before he ever admitted to himself that this might be love—messy as it is, constantly changing shape and slipping between his fingers. 

Courage eventually finds him by some miracle.

As Joel pads down the stairs, he tries to ignore the lingering silence. All he has are his creaky footsteps as he enters an empty kitchen dotted with signs of life. The table is set, two bowls on either end with the food organized in the middle. But you’re nowhere to be found. Regret sinks like a millstone into his gut, and takes his heart with it. His appetite vanishes along with any hope enduring within him. 

Before he can continue sinking, the back door flings open and you scramble in along with a chill. There’s a saucer in your grip that appears to have food scrapped off of it. No doubt for Juneau, the neighbor’s husky who often wandered by for scraps. 

Joel’s heart doesn’t know whether to quicken in surprise of slow with relief. There’s no question what yours does as you startle and grip your chest. Like you’re not the visitor in his home. As if he’s the intruder. 

“You scared me,” you breathe, eyes softening as you take him in. 

The way he’s standing suggests he’s trying to make himself look smaller. An air of apology hangs around him. There’s so much he wants to say: I don’t deserve this, I’m sorry, I love you.

Only a few gruff words come out, “Gonna catch a cold going outside like that.” 

“Guess it’ll be you cooking for me then.” Your lips twitch with a ghost-like hint of a smile. It’s an invitation into levity that lets him know he hadn’t severed any major branches. 

A stretch of silence passes before Joel says, “Had no right speaking to you the way I did.” 

Then he sighs into a deeper admission, “I’m not used to this.” He swallows thickly as he awaits a response.

“I know,” you finally say.

“But I wanna be. I want this—” 

You cross the distance to wrap your arms around him. He doesn’t move for a fraction of a second. He’s steady as an oak. As certain as the tide. When he does wrap his arms around you, it feels like another chance. A new beginning. Like a home both of you could get to know.  

•••

The two of you share a quiet meal of sourdough and steak and potato stew, sharing soft glances between bites. Joel goes for seconds, then thirds. Seconds because he was modest with his portions the first go round, and thirds because he can’t remember the last time someone labored over such good food for him. It nourishes him past the bone and to the soul, the warm broth soothing his throat as it runs down. Not once do you ask him to talk about his day, and he’s grateful.

Later, Joel helps you clean even though you insist that he sits down and relaxes. Conversation remains light as the two of you stand shoulder to shoulder at the sink, you washing and him drying. It’s a process much like forgiveness: the staining of oneself only to be made clean as if the offense never occurred. Which isn’t lost on Joel. The fog surrounding his conscious lifts as if his own slate is being renewed.

As the two of you finish and dry your hands, Joel peers over at you with a weighted look. You offer a small, tired smile that makes his chest expand with fondness. 

“Reckon I don’t deserve your kindness.” He clears his throat. “Ya keep giving it to me anyway.” 

“I always will,” you promise. 

Joel nods through the wave of gratitude that nearly sweeps him away. 

“I really am trying, honey.” He can’t remember the last time that nickname rolled off his tongue. Tonight, with you, it flows naturally. 

“I know.” 

Anything worth having can’t be gained without a fight. One against the voices of the past that seek to bind everything to the unmoving, unchanging familiarity of the way things have been for so long. Luckily, Joel Miller wasn’t one to back down. He would tear down every wall he built around himself, brick by brick, if it meant reaching you. 

-

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all. 

JOEL MASTERLIST 

ALL MASTERLISTS

[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.

[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.

[off-brand-likes]

Recovery

Spoilers for the horrible abandoned prison AU (which begins here)

Kallus sat on the edge of his hospital bed, shivering. The bed's rigged sensors would keep his absence a secret from the staff, but that just bought him time. Time he apparently needed to gather his strength to stand unassisted. Maddening.

The floor tiles cooled the bottom of his socks the instant his feet touched them. The Intelligence people who questioned him about his experience assured him they'd kept his prison-issue jumpsuit for his eventual release from the recovery ward, but that was lighter than the brown shirt and sweatpants the medics had dressed him in. This was the best he could do, until--

Dizziness washed over him as he stood. He caught himself on the wall by the bed and waited for his heart to settle, grimacing at the ice melt from the ceiling which now coated his palm. He was out of breath from standing. Stars, he'd had better days as an interrogation subject.

Nobody would give him a work assignment, not even a reserved position for when the doctors released him for duty. Since the doctors couldn't be bothered to choose a specific date for that eventuality, that made a kind of sense. But if Kallus showed up in whatever passed for Requisitions on this base, their conscience would obligate them to find him a coat and boots.

As he eased off the wall and headed for the door, he tucked his hands into his sweatpants' pockets. He'd ask for gloves, too. Frostbitten fingers would get him sent back to the sickbay.

If the rebels brought him back here, they had better sedate him to do it. One more minute of staring at the recovery ward's frozen ceiling and dripping walls, and he'd start breaking things, beginning with his own teeth from clenching his jaw, most likely.

Beside the recovery ward door, he paused to catch his breath. One patient watched him from their own bed, but the others in this room were asleep or too injured to care what Kallus was up to. He straightened his back, forced himself not to wince at his healing ribs grinding together, and walked into the hallway like he had permission to be there.

The freezing air in the hallway smelled like ice and a hint of exhaust or offgassing from whatever the rebels heated the base with. After the recovery ward's miasma of sterilizing fluid and rarely washed bodies, Kallus welcomed the fresher air with a deep breath that made his lungs ache and set him shivering again.

Kallus got directions from a passing astromech and concentrated on keeping his balance as he walked to the base's supply depot. If he fell, he might not have the strength to push himself off the floor.

His progress was slow, but walking under his own power felt like...

Like being alive. Every step proved he survived. It would take a tougher enemy than neglect to put him down.

[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.

[ankitsharma990]

12 Simple Tips to Reduce Dust and Keep Your Home Clean

We all love a clean, organized home. Deep cleaning and decluttering go a long way in creating that fresh, polished look. But no matter how spotless your space is, one thing keeps coming back: dust.

The truth? Dust is unavoidable. It’s made up of more than just skin cells—it includes outdoor dirt, pollen, and other particles that sneak in daily. But here’s the upside: with a few smart habits, you can cut down on dust and keep your home looking and feeling cleaner.

In our last two posts, we covered how to deep clean and declutter your home. Now, let’s take on the everyday challenge of dust. With help from Amenify, staying on top of cleanliness gets a whole lot easier.

Below, you’ll find simple, practical ways to reduce dust and keep your home fresher for longer.

Why a Dust-Free Home Matters

Dust does more than dull your furniture—it can affect your health. Dust carries allergens, pollutants, and irritants that lower indoor air quality and can trigger allergies or breathing issues, especially in kids or people with asthma.

Cutting down on dust helps protect your health, your furniture, and your electronics. The less dust in your home, the less wear and tear on your stuff—and the better you’ll feel overall.

12 Easy Ways to Reduce Dust in Your Home

Dusting doesn't have to be a daily chore. Try these tips to keep dust at bay and reduce how often you need to clean.

1. Create an Entryway Barrier Most dust walks right through the front door—on your shoes. Place doormats outside and inside your entry. Add a shoe rack or tray and encourage a no-shoes policy indoors. These simple steps keep dirt and debris from spreading throughout your home.

2. Clean in the Right Order Dust falls downward—so clean top to bottom. Don’t vacuum the floors before dusting shelves and light fixtures, or you’ll just have to do it again. Always finish each room by vacuuming or mopping to catch any settled dust.

Quick Tips:

Use a HEPA-filter vacuum to trap fine particles.

Dust with microfiber cloths—they hold dust instead of pushing it around.

Use a damp cloth to avoid sending particles into the air.

Read more at - https://www.amenify.com/blog/dust-free-living-how-to-create-a-low-dust-environment-in-your-home-with-amenify

[ductcleandoctormelb]

Breathe Fresher Air with Professional Duct Cleaning in Melbourne!

Dirty ducts impact indoor air quality, leading to allergies, respiratory issues, and higher energy bills. At Duct Clean Doctor, we provide expert Duct Cleaning Melbourne services to remove dust, allergens, and debris from your system, ensuring cleaner, healthier air for your home or office. Regular maintenance improves airflow, enhances energy efficiency, and extends the life of your heating and cooling system.

Take advantage of our Duct Cleaning Special to enjoy premium service at unbeatable rates. We use high-powered equipment and advanced techniques to clean your ducts thoroughly, eliminating bacteria, mould, and contaminants. Our limited-time Duct Cleaning Special offers great value while improving your indoor air quality and system performance.

If you rely on central heating during Melbourne’s chilly winters, ensuring your system stays clean is crucial. Our Ducted Heating Cleaning Melbourne service removes built-up dust, pet dander, and pollutants that circulate through your vents. Without regular maintenance, dirty ducts reduce heating efficiency and pose health risks. Trust our experts to deliver top-quality Ducted Heating Cleaning Melbourne that keeps your system running smoothly and your home warm and safe.

Duct Clean Doctor takes pride in providing thorough and professional services tailored to Melbourne’s climate and air quality concerns. Whether you need routine maintenance or a deep clean, our team ensures your ducts stay in top condition, promoting better air circulation and a healthier living environment.

Don’t let dirty ducts compromise your home’s air quality. Contact Duct Clean Doctor today for expert Duct Cleaning Melbourne services and take advantage of our latest Duct Cleaning Special. Your home deserves fresh, clean air, and we’re here to make that happen!

Source

[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!