#Best home health care in Silver Spring

[dailybasichomecareagency]

Welcome to Daily Basic Home Care Agency, LLC your trusted partner for compassionate and professional home care agency in Silver Spring MD. Our team consists of skilled and experienced caregivers who are committed to delivering exceptional care in the comfort of your own home. Whether you or your loved one requires assistance with daily activities, medication reminders, companionship, or specialized care, we are here to support you every step of the way.

Daily Basic Home Care Agency, LLC 13281 Stravinsky Terrace, Silver Spring, MD 20904 (202) 910–9482

My Official Website: http://www.dailybasichomecare.com/

Our Other Links:

Silver Spring home health aides: http://www.dailybasichomecare.com/health-care-home-health-aide Silver Spring home assistance for seniors: http://www.dailybasichomecare.com/health-care-assistance-with-activities-of-daily-living

Service We Offer:

Home care agency In-home care services senior care agency Elderly care services Affordable home care

Follow Us On:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/DailyBasicCareH Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/DailyBasicHomeCareAgency/

[dwarf-hat-enjoyer]

Howdy! Hope you're having a good day😁

Could you please write a comfort story where a reader who feels unattractive due to her body weight, who struggles to take care of herself due to her mental health, finally feels loved romantically & comforted by Harvey?

❤️‍🩹 One Of Those Days 🩺

synopsis: A farmer already troubled by insecurity seems to be having -you guessed it- one of those days. When even their reflection in the mirror seems to be laughing at them, it'll take some grit, spit and a shoulder to lean on to help them out of their funk. Luckily, their boyfriend Dr. Harvey has two of those. <3 Insecure+Fem!Farmer X Harvey, 2nd person POV, romance, hurt+comfort, SFW, mild angst.

w.c.: 2k words!

content warnings: Body image issues, spiraling, mental health issues, struggles to take care of oneself, hurt/comfort, mild-to-moderate angst.

A.N.: YOWZA, this hit a little close to home 😭 But I'm grateful for the request!!!! It was really comforting and even healing to write the things that some people need to hear, myself included :,) enjoy!!!

Some days, the mirror was nothing but a silver prison.

Guilt pricked at your conscience for how vain others would think you were, helplessly enraptured by your own reflection. The only reason for it could be vulgar self-adoration, after all, with the way your eyes would wander to even the faintest counterimage in a passing window. In fairness to yourself, you knew that most wouldn't think twice of the gesture. Everyone indulged in a little modest grooming from time to time, whether it be to fix a stray hair or touch up a wrinkled collar. Oftentimes, though mostly in public, you hardly thought of it, yourself.

If only it were the case in private. Instead, here you stood before the mirror of the farmhouse bathroom, kept company by only the old buzzing lights above and the reflection before you.

What a flawed human being.

Your outfit from the earlier Flower Dance lay crumpled in a neglected plastic laundry basket, and you stared at yourself in the pajamas you had just changed into. It was your second year of attending the event, and somehow, even when you were nothing but a greenhorn with grass-stained knees and nary a friend in town, it seemed easier your first time around.

They seemed distant, once upon a time. Strangers, those townsfolk were, acquaintances at best and at worst, mildly unfriendly. You didn't think about them so deeply, but time had a way of dribbling salt into weathered wounds. Wounds that had been opened long ago, but stung at the sight of these young, thin, healthy and beautiful people prancing about in their suits and dresses in a scene that belonged on the cover of a spring magazine.

If the mirror was a prison, then your mind was the warden. And if your mind was the warden, then it was a cruel one.

You could tolerate not being the most beautiful person on the field. You could appreciate how lovely the others all looked, but the worst part of it all was the slithering voice in the back of your head and the nasty things it told you. Why bother trying if you'll never be as pretty, it whispered, why bother with anything at all, when you'll never be as smart? As successful? As lovable and worthwhile?

Just that morning, you'd nearly given in to that very voice. It constricted your thoughts and mind as you woke up alone in a too-empty bed. Why bother going to the Flower Dance if you'll only look and feel like a dirt-stained joke?

In the midst of your spiral, you slowed. Reality seemed to become real again, if even just a tiny bit. Even the mirror in front of you was a mite less intimidating than before as you recalled the note Harvey left on your nightstand. The one that prompted you to crawl out from under the suffocatingly warm sheets at the break of six in the morning to read it.

Oftentimes, you were the one leaving notes instead. But you remembered what he wrote to you that morning; something about getting out early to help with the festival setup, although your sleep-addled brain drunk with self-deprecation felt stung by his absence.

Even then, in a quick, scribbled and hasty note, Harvey was loving. He called you his love. He sternly reminded you to eat the breakfast he'd left for you and to take a shower and brush your teeth, and even doodled a few hearts around the paper scrap he'd written on.

He loved you. He adored you. Why did being loved feel so numb? Did you even love him the way he deserved?

"Honey? Are you alright in there?"

A knock on the bathroom door startled a sniffle out of you. When did you begin crying? You cleared your throat with a small cough and mumbled a meek reply about feeling sick.

He didn't sound convinced.

"I'm- I'm a bit worried," he admitted. You remained silent, giving him time to elaborate, "At the Flower Dance, you seemed pretty out of it. If you need some space, it's perfectly healthy to take some time to recollect your thoughts, but..."

He paused. It was just a moment, a brief crack in the conversation.

"But I'd hate to leave you alone at a time you need somebody."

Those words, those damn words finally got you to choke out a sob. It was a miracle he'd stuck with you this long. Even getting him to move in was the kind of good fortune you'd never earned, neither with your body or personality.

"Come in," you beckoned him quietly, against your better judgement.

When the door creaked open, you had already been readied by the rapid-fire insults spat by the voice to expect the worst. He would sneer at you for being weak. A crybaby, too- maybe he would even be disgusted by your dishevelled appearance. Or Yoba forbid, disappointed in you for letting one bad day bother you so deeply.

Oddly enough, he didn't seem any of that. His jacket from the dance earlier had already been doffed along with his bowtie, leaving him in the gentle blues of his button-up and suit slacks. The worst thing he regarded you with was worry.

In the very back of his eyes, you saw his love.

"Let me guess," he sighed sympathetically, "one of those days?"

You nodded with a weak, wry smile, wiping tears unshed from your eyes. How did he always seem to know?

When you raised your arms wordlessly, the silent signal was quickly recognized. You felt his arms close around you in a gentle, enveloping hug, muffling the thoughts that clouded your harried mind. The steady rise and fall of his breathing as you rested your head on his shoulders brought you softly to your senses, and slowly, you tried to match his rhythm.

In, two, three, four...Out, two, three, four.

In, two, three, four, out, two, three, four.

The thoughts grew duller. They weren't gone, but you didn't feel so suffocated and trapped by them.

You didn't feel alone.

Another smile played at your features; a genuine one, as you felt the slight tickle of his mustache when he pressed his lips to your forehead. The habit normally came out in times like these, when you needed a little soothing. It wasn't quite a kiss, but his affection was clear in the way that he kept you as close as he did.

"Do you want to talk?" Harvey asked earnestly. "It's alright if not. Distraction can also be a healthy way to cope with or recover from unpleasant thoughts. We can watch some TV, have a snack...?"

Talking would've been a tempting offer, if calming down hadn't been such a chore already. It would've dragged you back down to dredge all your self-doubt back up, and although you saw that Harvey was trying his best to give you the ultimate choice, the both of you knew well enough which one would be the healthier option.

Soon enough, you found yourself under a thick knitted blanket (a thank-you gift from Granny Evelyn for your regular leek deliveries throughout the spring) and curled up your couch, a movie set on low volume playing on your ancient television set. It wasn't a great movie, perhaps not even a good movie, but it was just the right amount of familiar to ease you into a more comfortable state of mind. The soft humming of the microwave buzzed behind you, dotted with the occasional pop of a popcorn kernel. The rest of Harvey's suit from the Flower Dance lay draped over the back of the couch, traded in for some more suitable nightclothes.

Harvey eventually arrived with a bowl of popcorn in hand. Sitting beside you, he draped an arm over your shoulder and gave your temple a quick yet meaningful peck. Awkwardly, you absorbed him under your blanket in an amoebaesque fashion, giving him just enough time to put the bowl on the coffee table before engulfing him to near completion. The corners of his mustache curled upwards in that endearing smile of his.

Time passed. Perhaps too much, perhaps too little. Scene by repetitive scene, the movie passed itself by, leaving you both in a comfortable silence. Your mind was calm. The thoughts had passed, for the most part. Like jellyfish in a reef, troublesome feelings floated through you still, but you knew that they were temporary. They would always come and go, but by the night's end, jellyfish were still bound to the current. They'd drift away. The reef had been there long before, and the reef would be there long after. Scars would always fade. Life would carry on.

"...You're right, Harvey," you chuckled softly. "I was having one of those days."

He shifted curiously to face you. Your mind was clear. You were ready.

You told him about the Flower Dance today. You told him about the countless times before that where you'd felt unhappy, unattractive unworthy and unloved. There were times as you spoke where your voice faltered or cracked, but you carried on, not because you felt the need to be strong, but because you felt safe enough to be vulnerable. Harvey listened quietly and intently, your every word committing deeply to his mind. All the time you spoke, he held your hand, giving you encouraging squeezes where you stumbled and holding it closer where you grew silent.

He understood.

Your eyes finally met with his as you finished your explanation. He wasn't sneering, disgusted or disappointed- Harvey was concerned. And still just as in love with you as you were with him.

"I've...Had a lot of these issues too," he admitted tenderly. "I don't want to draw attention away from your issues. I just want you to know that I understand where you're coming from, love. Feeling like your body isn't good enough, feeling like your efforts aren't good enough, just feeling like you yourself aren't good enough."

"But you are," Harvey affirmed you. "For one, I've never looked at you and thought that there was something wrong with you or the way you look. Your body is your own and that's why I love it- scars, cellulite, rolls and all. The flaws you think you have don't make you unattractive. Every little detail you look at in the mirror and feel insecure about, I could write a love poem about the exact same thing."

You snorted a little. "Alright, Elliott. Might as well grow out your hair and move onto the beach."

Harvey rolled his eyes at your comment. After a playful pinch to your side, he continued, "And secondly, the only thing we can ever do in life is our best. Judging your own accomplishments by those of other people is just going to get you down. Just because your life doesn't look like someone else's doesn't mean you're not living it as well as you can. I'm proud of you for all that you're putting forward, even if it's just to get out of bed and do your chores on the farm. When you struggle with this feeling of inadequacy on a daily basis, it's important to focus on what you can do instead of what you can't, you know?"

"Someone dabbled in psychology," you teased him.

"That and I have a good therapist," he shrugged, smiling guiltily. "Something you could benefit from, yourself. We can talk about it when you're ready?"

It was a start. You nodded in agreement.

A startling noise from the television caught your attention. The movie had ended.

However you felt, you couldn't describe it. You still carried the weight of your feelings with you, but it didn't feel as heavy as before. It wasn't quite numb, nor did those feelings go away, but you felt more ready to carry the load, knowing that you wouldn't be doing it alone. You had Harvey. You had your friends in town. Even your farm animals and their antics, they were reason enough to keep pushing forward.

"I love you, Harvey."

It wasn't a grand declaration or something that had to be said, but you wanted to say it, if only to see the pink tinge in his cheeks when you did. You stifled a laugh at his shocked expression. Just by looking at him, anyone else would think that it was the first and not the thousandth time you'd told him.

He couldn't even look you in the eye when he said it back, the sweetheart.

"I...I love you too."

~FIN~

[samstree]

Beneath the Winter Snow (1/2)

The care and keeping of one’s bard and winter garden. Jaskier falls ill. Geralt copes as best as he can. (sickfic, 3.8k ☆ AO3)

Winter arrives with a small cough that settles deep in Jaskier’s lungs.

“Oh, dear.” Jaskier rubs his chest, coughing a few times, breaths forming a white fog. “What is with me today?”

Temperature near the coast rarely drops so suddenly, but a cold gust has swept over the little fishing village along with freezing rain, catching them off guard. Frost covers the ground overnight, lining bare branches and fallen leaves with glistening silver.

Geralt tucks in the woolen scarf around Jaskier’s neck. “Perhaps you should go in,” he says. “I’ll finish in the garden.”

“Nonsense!” Jaskier pushes Geralt’s gloved hands away. “It’s our winter garden. I will not leave all the chores to you, darling, no matter how adorable you look when you give the plants little pep talks. The next frost won’t be long, and we haven’t planted the honeysuckles yet.”

Jaskier’s voice breaks with another wheezing sound. Geralt’s worry only grows. He frowns in dissatisfaction and pulls the fur-lined hood over Jaskier’s head.

“I know,” Geralt ignores Jaskier’s protest and presses his ears to keep them warm. “Just don’t want you to catch a cold.”

The crow’s feet at Jaskier’s temples are beautiful when his smiles, understanding shining in eyes as blue as the sea. Hair peppered with silver streaks sweeps across his forehead in the wind, and Geralt brushes the strands away, tucking them behind Jaskier’s ears.

“You take care of me too well. I won’t be catching anything,” Jaskier says coyly, his cheeks pink from both the winter chill and a blush. “Come on. I’ll do the honeysuckles and witch hazels. You can trim the hydrangeas for us.”

“Hmm, just…be careful with your knees.”

Geralt isn’t convinced by Jaskier’s reassurance, but they start the chores while there’s still daylight. The air smells like fresh rain as Jaskier plants the seeds in damp soil, humming an absent tune. Geralt trims the bare branches with half of his senses tuned into every subtle cough under Jaskier’s breath.

The sun barely sets before Geralt calls it a day, the few pots of witch hazels still not moved into the ground. Jaskier’s legs wobble as he stands, his hands resting on Geralt’s shoulders to steady himself.

“Alright?” Geralt checks carefully, studying the tiredness in Jaskier’s features.

“Mm-hmm.” Jaskier’s eyes crinkle. “Getting old, is all. The good days of me walking all day without complaints are long gone, dear witcher.”

“Without complaints?” Geralt gives a look. “Sure.”

Jaskier gasps in offense, starting to ramble about how he was the picture of suffering in stoic silence, but Geralt only ushers him indoors, shaking his head. The warm air of their home surrounds them, and they begin another evening routine.

Geralt helps Jaskier out of his garden gears from muscle memory, helping him out of the sturdy boots and thick coats. He then puts all the tools in the closet, before retrieving the blankets to put on Jaskier’s lap so he can relax in front of the fireplace in the soft armchair.

He almost thinks Jaskier has drifted off if not for the occasional coughs that bubble up in his throat. The harsh sound interrupts the quiet crackling of the fire, piercing the most vulnerable part of Geralt’s heart.

So he finds the book.

It’s a leather-bound notebook Geralt keeps solely for Jaskier’s health, recording all the medicine he takes, all the trips to the local healer, and all the herbs that fill up that cupboard in their living room. The book is half full already, with pieces of notes and remedies pressed between the pages.

Geralt checks the herbs they used last time—a small cold Jaskier caught in the spring that didn’t bother him for too long. He finds the turmeric, slippery elm, and ginger root in the cupboard, but the peppermint leaves have dried up along with a few other things. He writes down the list of things to be restocked on the next trip to the herbalist.

“You and that book,” Jaskier grumbles, stretching in the comfortable chair. “Stop worrying and come sit with me.”

Geralt simply bends down to kiss Jaskier’s hair, passing him. He has water to boil and a herbal tea to make.

“Any headache?” Geralt asks from the kitchen, not sure if he should use willow bark in the mix.

“Only from your fussing,” Jaskier whines.

Geralt chuckles as he puts away the willow bark and adds a generous scoop of honey. Gods know how long Jaskier will complain if the tea is too bitter.

When he brings the steaming mug of pungent herbal tea to the living room, Jaskier deflates visibly, lips curling into a pout from the unfairness of it all. “You know, no amount of honey hides the taste.

“I know,” Geralt answers in sympathy, “but it helps.”

Jaskier sighs, wrapping his hands around the mug. “Urgh, the things I do for you.”

Geralt sits on the rug by Jaskier’s feet as he sips slowly, grimacing the entire time. In the end, Jaskier chugs the last of it with a full-body shudder, wiping his mouth clean.

“Proud of you,” Geralt says, rubbing Jaskier’s thigh in encouragement.

“Of course you are. I’m the bravest bard to ever walk the continent. Brave enough to drink this vile liquid.” Jaskier puts the mug on the table, tugging at Geralt’s arms. “Just come here, you.”

Geralt joins him gladly, squeezing into the armchair. With a bit of shuffling, somehow Jaskier ends up on Geralt’s lap, his head tucked in the space under Geralt’s chin, the scent of mixed herbs still in his breath.

“Hmm,” Geralt hums softly. “Your knees okay? Not bothering you?”

“Yeah,” Jaskier whispers, kissing Geralt’s neck. “Yours?”

Geralt moves his bad knee slightly and feels no pain flaring up. The chores they did earlier were not nearly enough to exert his old injuries. He just wants to focus on his human bard who needs a lot more care and attention than a witcher.

“I’m fine,” Geralt says. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Too late. I have to.” Jaskier sags, burrowing into Geralt’s embrace. “I made you my problem a very long time ago, in a most horrid tavern at the edge of the world. You are the one who should want to run away from all of this. You didn’t sign up for taking care of an old human, after all.”

Jaskier takes to coughing again, so Geralt strokes between his shoulder blades.

It’s true that Geralt wouldn’t have chosen this life back then, in a dingy tavern where an annoying bard decided to follow him around the continent like a lost puppy. Had it been up to him, he’d never have grown to care for Jaskier or anyone after. Had it been up to him, he would still be walking the path alone with only the company of Roach. He’d not need to build a winter garden, or keep a collection of medicine, or have Jaskier here with him, in his arms, soothed by his presence.

It would be a living nightmare, compared to the dream that is his life right now.

“Don’t,” Geralt whispers as Jaskier catches his breath. “Don’t say that. I’d fight anyone who tries to take this away from me. You know it.”

“I just don’t want you to take on too much, darling. You’ve spent the past few years caring for me. All you do is scribble in that damn book. Don’t get me wrong, I love the attention.” Jaskier huffs. “But I want you to feel supported too, and I fear—well, I fear I won’t be able to do that for you. Not anymore.”

It’s ridiculous Jaskier still puts Geralt’s needs before his, but he does, and he will always want to.

“Like I said, don’t worry about it,” Geralt repeats, not sure how convincing he is. “Everything I need is right here.”

He just needs Jaskier to be alright. As long as Jaskier is healthy and safe, Geralt doesn’t think of much else.

They stay there like this, in front of the crackling fire on a winter night, with Jaskier warm and tired, resting against Geralt’s shoulder.

The cough won’t go away.

As the days shorten and the chill sets in, Jaskier spends more and more time hacking up a lung, and his energy drains with it. The bad days will leave him exhausted. Even a good day can quickly turn into a bad one with a mere gust of wind.

The night stretches forever near solstice. With daylight waning, Geralt takes up all the gardening to keep Jaskier from the cold. He is just checking on the hydrangeas blooms when the faint strumming of the lute comes from their bedroom window.

It’s been too long since Jaskier last sang.

The coughs leave Jaskier’s voice hoarse, the brightness in his songs diminished by the constant exertion, but his spirit remains. It’s a ballad, a love story, as it always is. Unlike those famous works from his youth singing about heartbreak, this song is about a love that matured over the years. This song sings of quiet mornings and hushed conversations, of secret jokes and companionship.

It’s about them.

Geralt stops to listen as the melody wraps deep around his heart, smoothing over all the tension in his body. He listens as the song comes to an end, fading with the warmth of trust and security.

A cough wrecks Jaskier’s voice. The lute drops to the ground, the strings clanging. Geralt is in the cottage within a few strides, running into their bedroom.

There Jaskier is, perched on the bed, body shaking from another coughing fit, the rattling in his lungs like an old ship.

“I’m—” Jaskier wheezes, trying to smile but only manages a pained grimace. “I’m fi—”

“Hey.” Geralt brings Jaskier into his arms, stroking his back with long, patient movement. “Hush now, don’t speak. It’s alright. Take your time.”

Jaskier ends up slumped against Geralt’s shoulder, clutching at his chest, coughing erratically. The sharp, acrid scent of pain grows as he wheezes. Geralt’s hands act on instinct, soothing, comforting, his lips pressed against Jaskier’s hair in reassurance. None of it seems to help. The coughs pass in time, draining all the strength in Jaskier’s body.

For a moment, he can only let Geralt support all his weight, all his energy focused on taking in one broken gasp after another.

The lute lies by their feet, silent and still.

Geralt feels every slight tremor under his palm. He keeps rubbing Jaskier’s back, knowing he cannot ease the pain underneath. He thinks of the book, of all the medicine in their cupboard.

“I’ll get you something.” Geralt starts to leave, but arms wrap around his waist, pulling him back.

“No, don’t go,” Jaskier croaks, eyes watering. “I’m really fine.”

When he tries to squeeze out a smile, a tear streams down his pale cheek. Geralt wipes it away with a thumb.

“Let me get something for your throat, at least,” Geralt says gently, coaxing Jaskier to release him. His arms are so weak it’ll only take the barest force to push him away, but Geralt can’t bring himself to do it. He hasn’t been able to do it for decades.

Jaskier shakes his head, resting against Geralt’s neck. “In a bit. There’s no rush.” He huffs a small smile against Geralt’s skin. “Did you hear me sing?”

“I did.”

“And?”

Geralt lowers his head to meet Jaskier’s eyes in sincerity. “It was beautiful.”

Jaskier nudges with an elbow. “Such high praise for you. You were the most difficult audience member to satisfy on this continent. Did you even realize? For my entire career, you were always so picky. Can’t be too inaccurate, can’t make you sound too heroic. Had I known dedicated love songs were the way to go, I’d have professed my love much earlier.”

Geralt softens. “It would have saved me a month after that sleeping curse, looking for your one true love.”

When Jaskier looks up, remembering that day, his eyes sparkle with fondness. “But it was you all along, the love of my life who saved me with a simple kiss.”

“Hmm. If only those could cure coughs.”

Geralt hugs Jaskier closer, feeling the thinning of his waist and the sharp edges of his ribs. Something in his chest aches at the overwhelming powerlessness that won’t leave him since winter began.

True love’s kiss saved them from a curse then, but it’s nothing against a fragile human’s mortality.

He hugs Jaskier more tightly, somehow.

“How are the flowers today?” Jaskier changes the subject, sensing Geralt’s melancholy, exhaustion already seeping deep into this voice. “You won’t let me stay outside, and now I miss them.”

Geralt keeps his voice soft. “The hydrangeas are fine. Growing better than last year. We should be able to sell soon.”

“Remember to save some for us. We haven’t kept flowers in the house in a while.”

Geralt hasn’t had the mind to decorate since Jaskier became sick, but he promises anyway. “Of course. The pink ones for your study, blue for our room.”

“The White Wolf has such a keen eye for colors. Who would have thought?” Jaskier teases. “Come on. Let’s stop moping. I haven’t been out of this room all day. Let me at least go out in the garden, lest the plants miss me too much.”

“You make fun of me, but I know you talk to them too.” Geralt raises an eyebrow.

“You rub off on me, dearest, especially when you are being a sweetheart. Plus, they do grow better when you give them some encouragement. I thought I’d try, that’s all. Once I started, it was hard to stop. They are such great listeners.”

“Like Roach.”

“Not as good as Roach, I’m afraid. She’s the best.”

With much dramaticism, Jaskier tries to stand but his legs are too weak. Geralt pulls him up gently, supporting him by the elbows.

Jaskier smiles tiredly, opening his mouth to say something, only to suppress a sudden cough.

It’s a big, violent one that seems to rumble against his chest. Pain flashes across blue eyes that were relaxed a moment ago. Color drains from Jaskier’s face, leaving his cheeks white as a sheet.

Geralt is alert in an instant.

“Jaskier?” All of his senses turn towards Jaskier and every shudder in his breaths. There is nothing outwardly wrong, but the bitter scent of pain spikes, mixed with overpowering fear and panic. Geralt’s hands move frantically, touching and checking everywhere, not sure how to help. “Talk to me, Jaskier. What is it? What’s wrong?”

Jaskier looks like he’s out of his body, confused and unresponsive, vacant eyes fixed on somewhere miles away. He sways, before bending over and coughing up a mouthful of blood.

The crimson color cuts sharply into Geralt’s vision, stark against the paleness of Jaskier’s face. The world rings in Geralt’s ears, a dulled background noise behind the heaving of Jaskier’s lungs.

“G’ralt—” Jaskier’s eyes are round with unbridled fear, much like that fateful day in Rinde all those years ago. All he blindly searches for is Geralt. “Geralt, I…”

Geralt catches his hand, just like that day. He catches Jaskier’s hand, the same fear echoed deep within his ribs, enveloping his heart.

“Jaskier? Jask—”

Jaskier coughs again, spitting out more blood. “Hurts,” he chokes hoarsely. “Geralt, it hurts so much—”

With that, he collapses against Geralt’s chest, legs giving out. His body is light, nearly weightless in Geralt’s arms, but they are brought to the ground anyway. Jaskier’s head lolls listlessly, face scrunched up in pain, but his hand still holds onto Geralt tightly. He holds on as if Geralt is the single most powerful anchor in a storm, as if Geralt alone can keep him afloat when another wave of coughs topples him over.

But all Geralt can do is hold on in return. All he can do is call out for Jaskier helplessly as he struggles to choke in one breath after another.

It’s painfully clear to Geralt what is happening—what he missed. An infection has set in as the cough progressed. He should have recognized this disease and its symptoms. Witchers never fall to human illnesses, but he’s witnessed how many have been taken by it in his century-long life. The white plague, consumption, the names are unimportant, but knowing the danger of it nearly leaves him paralyzed with fear.

There is no cure on the continent apart from magic. Geralt has never been more thankful for the xenovox Yennefer and Triss left for them. For emergencies, Yen said at the time, but the meaning behind the existence of the small box is clear. For when you can’t protect Jaskier. For when you fail him, for when you’ve put him on the brink of death again.

Geralt doesn’t let his voice waver when he calls for Yennefer’s name. He doesn’t fall apart when he describes Jaskier’s condition to Triss, who listens patiently and without judgment. His chest twists with panic when learning the sorceresses are being held up for another two days by local matters, but a cure will be ready before they arrive.

He doesn’t fall apart, because Jaskier needs him, now more than ever. He stays by Jaskier’s bedside and watches as he sleeps.

It’s just that Jaskier is too still when he sleeps.

For two days, Jaskier is confined to their bed, only making a noise when the coughs rattle his lungs. A fever flares up and refuses to come down, making him drowsy all day. When he’s lucid, he can’t keep anything down, throwing up all food and medicine.

There’s a smear of blood on Jaskier’s chin. Geralt wets a cloth to wipe it away. Sweat soaks through Jaskier’s hair, his skin scorching to the touch.

Geralt sits through another night, dabbing Jaskier’s forehead with a cool cloth with little effect. He answers to the incoherent mumbling from fever dreams, but his reassurance is never heard.

“Don’t…leave…” Jaskier’s eyes remain closed, tears streaming down his temples. “I’ll be better… worthy travel companion…”

It’s one of the worst nightmares. Geralt’s heart breaks into pieces as Jaskier calls for a past version of him, begging not to be left behind. He holds Jaskier’s hand near his heart and murmurs his love quietly until the dream passes.

Dawn breaks. Jaskier’s health book lays flat on the bedside table, useless.

Jaskier begins stirring with the sunrise, the shimmering light under the curtains interrupting his fitful rest, so Geralt leans down to press a kiss to his dry, pale lips. Blue eyes crack open. There is so much happiness in the small, tired smile on Jaskier’s face when the first thing he sees is Geralt.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Geralt whispers their private joke.

“Oh…” Despite everything, Jaskier plays along. “You saved me, my brave knight. Now I’m all yours.”

He tries to say more but the cough takes over, shaking his whole body. The violent sound rips through the heavy silence in their home. Phantom pain echoes between Geralt’s ribcage with every wheeze.

Geralt helps Jaskier sit against the pillows and claps his back gently. Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut, dizzy from the lack of air. Blood stains his lips, grotesque against the paleness of his skin. He coughs until he’s gagging, muscles spasming and trembling all over.

“Yen will be here soon,” Geralt repeats what he’s been saying for the past two days, stroking Jaskier’s hair. “Triss too. They heard my message as soon as I sent it. It’s just something holding them up. They’ll be here.”

Jaskier breathes, and breathes, shivering against the pillows. He takes a sip of water from the cup in Geralt’s hand, and pushes it away, scared of it turning his stomach. “Just need—” he rasps, “just need you.”

“I’m right here.”

Their home smells of pain.

“Just you… No one else.”

Geralt looks away from all the love in Jaskier’s eyes, his trust unwavering. He finds shame and guilt weighing on his breastbone, overpowering and inescapable.

This is all his fault.

“I don’t know what to do, Jaskier.” Geralt wipes the sweat from Jaskier’s brow, patiently explaining. “You are sick, and I can’t make it better.”

Jaskier shakes his head in disapproval. “You make everything better.”

“Not right now,” Geralt nearly huffs. “I’m doing everything I can, but nothing is better.”

Jaskier gives a long, poignant look. His eyes dim in the way that says he’s seeing right through Geralt and finding the most guilt-ridden and self-deprecating part of his soul. It’s the same unhappy look Jaskier gives when he’s ready to give Geralt a lecture about thinking badly about himself.

Jaskier doesn’t give the lecture.

“Have you slept?” he asks instead.

Geralt blinks in surprise. “I don’t need to.”

“Not an answer.” Jaskier sighs, shifting on the bed. There’s so little strength in his body all he manages is lifting the cover by a corner. Even the small movement leaves him breathless, and Jaskier pauses with nearly every word. “You haven’t—haven’t slept for two days. You look awful, dear.”

“I don’t need much sleep. You should rest—”

“Please?” Jaskier rubs his chest pitifully, looking up at Geralt through his lashes. “I feel better when you are next to me.”

It’s a trick, an old one Jaskier uses to make Geralt take care of his own needs. It’s been working since Geralt found himself incapable of saying no to a cheeky bard who wouldn’t stop following him, and it works now, when Jaskier is sick and miserable and all he asks for is Geralt’s presence.

Geralt slips under the cover, curling around Jaskier’s too-warm body.

“I need to bring your temperature down,” he says, mind still alert.

“Shh…” Jaskier only hushes him, humming a contented sound. “Don’t worry too much. You’ll end up with wrinkles like me.”

The crow’s feet at the corners of Jaskier’s eyes bloom beautifully, and Geralt brushes away grey hair to see them. He feels his eyes crinkle in return.

“Sleep,” Geralt whispers. “You need rest. I’ll wake you later.”

Jaskier blinks slowly, exhaustion pulling his eyelids, but he frowns at Geralt. “You sleep too.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t lie.”

“Am not.”

Geralt watches as Jaskier drifts off, knitted brows relaxing gradually. He listens to the subtle scratches in Jaskier’s lungs, the fluttering beats of his heart. They are lucky enough that the coughs don’t act up in Jaskier’s sleep.

But Jaskier is too still when he sleeps, too still that, for a moment or two, it looks like the nearly imperceptible rise and fall of his chest have stopped.

Geralt’s breath catches. He blinks, shaking away the false sight in front of his eyes. He stays awake after that, counting Jaskier’s labored breaths, one after another.

It’s the only thing keeping him sane until the familiar sound of a portal appears comes from their living room, Yen’s magic humming in the air.

[mitchvnderson]

Hey, look! It’s MITCH ANDERSON at PIZZAGEDDON. Did you know they WORKS there as a PIZZA DELIVERY PERSON? I guess they’re from NEW YORK CITY and have been in town for TEN YEARS, living in PIZZAGEDDON. I also heard they’re a little INSECURE, but also very GOOFY which definitely makes sense.

TRIGGERS: Divorce, marijuana use, health issues

THE DETAILS ;

Full Name: Mitchell Ryan Anderson

Nickname(s): Mitch

Age: 23

Birthdate: May 5th

Aesthetics: Cold pizza, tie dyed shirts, dusty acoustic guitars, worn out converse, poorly rolled blunts

Zodiac: Taurus.

Sexuality: Straight

Occupation: Pizza Delivery Boy

Height: 6'2

Weight: 170

Build: Lanky

BIO ;  

Mitch is the youngest of 3 siblings and grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth. His parents were both very well off and successful music producers.

Mitch was kinda the odd man out in his family. He wasn't the most attractive of his siblings, nor was he the most popular. His brother was an all star athlete and class president. His older sister, Anna, was the the prom queen and cheer captain.

When Mitch was 12 his whole world changed. His parents ended up divorcing so his father could start a new life with his new boyfriend. His mother got full custody of him and his sister who were still under age and moved back to her home town of East Haven.

Mitch's family was easily one of the most wealthy in East haven, which put a target on him in school. Because not only was he rich, he was awkward, had braces, horrible acne, and new his freshman year of high school.

Mitch would have despised his entire high school experience if it wasn't for one girl in particular, Rhiannon Spring. From the moment he laid eyes on her, Mitch fell head over heals for her. though it took him forever to muster up the courage to ask her out on a date. But the two clicked, and it wasn't long before he said I love you. Eventually, Rhi said it back.

The two were an odd couple. Clearly from different worlds and social circles. But their love was strong. Unfortunately Mitch's mother drove a wedge between the two and they broke up. Mitch's world was shattered once again. When Rhi broke his heart his whole world came crashing down, not only did he loose his girlfriend, he lost his best friend.

As much as it seemed that Mitch had a charmed life, it was lonely. His father and older brother weren't a part of his life. His sister was always out god knows where doing god knows what, and his mother, well more often then not she was away on business.

Mitch is back from college. Having both simultaneously flunked/dropped out, Mitch's mother is furious with him.

The college Mitch attended was Boston College. He was a Business administration and management but was struggling because he hated it, but his mother didn't care and support him wanting to change majors so now he's cut off.

Now Mitch is working as a pizza delivery boy, putting tons of miles on his fancy sports car he really can't afford anymore and living off free pizza

Though he went away for college, Mitch never really left East Haven aside from college. He would come back for breaks and moved back home when school was out.

Mitch was premature and has a weak heart though he's never had any problems from it yet

Mitch has only had 3 girlfriends. Rhi was his first girlfriend, first kiss, first everything.

He's legit a stereotypical "teen" boy even if he's not a teen anymore. Does nothing but play video games, smoke weed, and eat junk food. But he's really got a heart of gold.

Mitch's family, mainly his brother and grandparents put this idea of what a "man" should be in his head and he struggles with that sometimes

This is the first job he's had aside from doing landscaping in the summer for his grandparents when he was a teen

Family ;

Abigail Anderson: Estranged Mother Michael Anderson: Estranged Father Noah Anderson: Estranged Older Brother Angela Anderson: Older Sister Andon Anderson: Nephew

Wanted connections ;

Best friend: Co workers: Old classmates: Enemies: Acquaintances/friends of his mother/family: Ex Girlfriends (1/3): @rhixspring

[theloniousbach]

RETIREMENT CHRONICLES 1.4

When I retired from my 9-5 job on Sept 1 last year, I found it useful to continue to apply the semester framework to my life. Since I was still teaching and school had formally defined the tempo of my life for over 50 years and informally for almost all of the others, that was an easy move. But the point was that a semester was a good unit of time to set goals, long enough to measure accomplishments but short enough to make those goals concrete.

I wrote the first of these chronicles in December and the second, as 2.0, in January as the Spring semester was starting. The winter break was far from a semester but it was a full month without anything more to do for school than get ready to teach. I had my first taste of fully organizing my own time around the goals I continue to set for myself: health/self-care; fiction, reading but also writing; and music, watching and writing about it, but also playing. In May, I wrote about my progress on those fronts (and my Galapagos trip and my sister’s death) as 3.0.

But, on the notion that I will continue to give myself grades for what I have down during these slots for at least another round or two, let’s call this installment for Summer, 1.4, expecting December’s entry to be 2.1.

This time around is rather like 2.0 in that it was up to me to dictate my time with just a little of school (some collaboration on my Gleich Honors College project (most amusingly, an aborted phone meeting from Peninsula State Park which was delayed a half hour as I got out of the park and back to Fish Creek, WI), getting a Spring 2025 Short Term Study Abroad class approved, and some general planning for the semester ahead). If I am retired with an asterisk during the school year, the asterisk fades away during the month of winter break and the three of Summer.

What doesn’t change are my three basic goals which frankly flourished.

HEALTH/SELF CARE was, I suppose a bit of a question mark, as we were away from our regular gym and the amenities that have made working out sustainable as I just don’t hurt the next day. We got an at home version of the mats that was our main resource and we found massage therapists in Door County. But, thanks to Medicare’s Silver Sneakers, we were regulars at the two Y’s there, going even more frequently, and using a wider variety of machines. I got stronger. This has been my biggest success over the past year and I am glad to sustain it over our long time out of town.

But that too was a form of self-care in that we were away from St Louis heat, able to take a sustained look at a place we had visited for a week or two every few years, and, best of all, regularly able to look at Lake Michigan or Green Bay and the pelicans that swim/fly around them. I was able to go to five Door County Baseball League games, seeing five of the eight teams and four of the fields rather than maybe a game in other years. While I won’t need to go back to the museums for agriculture, shipping, and general history, I did finally go on the days that I had to myself and have a more grounded sense of Door County. There are a couple of nature preserves and a Native gallery as well as a Door Shakespeare play to catch, but I have checked off many of the remaining boxes.

MUSIC thankfully continues as I tracked that I wrote 39 of my musical souvenirs. While they were mostly jazz, we did go to three MidSummer Music concerts of chamber music and I have begun looking forward to Phil Lesh’s weekly streams from Terrapin Clubhouse as he continues to find a way to mine the legacy of the Grateful Dead canon. We overpacked going north, but that made it possible for me to bring the bass as well as the guitar. I made some initial progress on understanding that instrument while continuing to enjoy the guitar, albeit probably not as systematically as I could. I would like to be more systematic to polish and expand repertoire and technique. I hope to have a report for 2.1 in this series.

FICTION received the lion share of the time and attention that I wasn’t devoting to school. I wrote regularly, finishing a novella, let’s call it, and starting a new one, a total of over 20,000 words. While partially living in a fictional world of my own creation, I read 17 novels (completing one mystery series, pausing 200 pages before the end of another, and getting to the halfway point of Patrick O’Brian’s monumental Aubrey/Maturin Master and Commander series). I also read a memoir on Dutch art.

So I head into the Fall semester hoping to continue to make progress on all these fronts. The challenges will be to make realistic progress with my own fiction even as teaching will draw on my creative brain and to find a way to be systematic about my playing. Watching music and writing about it, walking and working out, and reading are givens and will happen naturally.

Still, things are not on auto-pilot. I am curious what will be new.

[madellaine]

Your mother wouldn't approve of how my mother raised me But I do, I think I do And you're an all-American boy I guess I couldn't help trying to be your best American girl

Birthday — Feb.15, 2001 Zodiac Sign — Aquarius Sun, Sagittarius Moon, Libra Rising MBTI — ENFP Enneagram — Type 4 Primary Vice — Lust Primary Virtue — Charity  Element — Air 

Overview:

Mother — Mariana Hsu  Father — Unknown  Mother’s Occupation — owner of a gift shop (Sea Hagg) Father’s Occupation — unknown Family Finances — lower middle-class Birth Order — Only child Brothers —  N/A Sisters — N/A Other Close Family — Not blood family, but her three “aunts”! Aunt Beryl, Auntie Tammy-Mae, and Tia Lupe  Best Friend — Stella Jones, who lived down the street; Peter, her best friend she was toooootally in love with in middle school but it was not meant to be because of incompatible sexuality  Other Friends — various that I will come up with later <3  Enemies —  none really  Pets — various cats Home Life During Childhood — incredibly loved, if in an eclectic home environment.  Town or City Name(s) — Silver Key, Florida  What Did His or Her Bedroom Look Like — messy. Lots of knick knacks. Books everywhere. Candles everywhere. Lots of half-finished crafts.  Any Sports or Clubs — president of her school’s very small yearbook club, was on the very small cheerleading squad Favorite Toy or Game — loved to play dress up and play pretend Schooling — went to public school (traveled by ferry!) for grades K through 12, then went to Florida Atlantic University on a scholarship for college, majoring in English  Favorite Subject — English Popular or Loner — Her school was super tiny, so she knew everyone and was generally well-liked.  Important Experiences or Events — honestly graduating high school and college was a big deal for her family!!!  Nationality — American Culture — American, dashed with water magic, dashed with some Chinese Religion and beliefs — vague merfolk spirituality 

Physical Appearance:

Face Claim —  Havana Rose Liu Complexion — Peachy  Hair Colour — Light brown Eye Colour — Green Height — 5’5” Build — Lean, with soft curves Tattoos — Seashell on her ankle Piercings — Double on her ears Common Hairstyle — Long, loose waves Clothing Style —  eclectic, whimsical, boho, lots of mismatched patterns; she also tends to wear very revealing clothes, because she grew up on the beach and running around in your bikini was just, like, totally normal and not something people batted their eyes at  Mannerisms — walks like she’s floating  Usual Expression —

Health:

Overall (do they get sick easily)? — she’s gonna be in for a shock with cold and dry weather lemme tell you  Physical Ailments — nothing, beyond the usual mermaid need to be more hydrated than the average person Neurological Conditions — none Allergies —  she will discover that she has a horrible pollen allergy her first spring in Swynlake that she’s never had to deal with while living in Florida <3  Grooming Habits — loves self-care and probably spends too much money for her budget on expensive skincare products Sleeping Habits — either too much or too little, rarely an in-between  Eating Habits — p indulgent, has a big sweet tooth  Exercise Habits —  fit enough, prefers doing group classes especially dance and pilates  Emotional Stability — she feels very passionately in all directions Sociability — Very outgoing, loves to meet new people Addictions — Nah Drug Use — Will try stuff, but not super regularly  Alcohol Use — Social drinker

Your Character’s Character:

Bad Habits — impulsive, has a bit of a temper, reckless, tends to over romanticize everything and anything  Good Habits — kind-hearted, curious, imaginative, optimistic  Best Characteristic — she sees so much beauty in the world, that you will be charmed and maybe believe yourself to be beautiful too  Worst Characteristic — reckless and has very little self-preservation  Worst Memory — the big big fight with her mom when she found the photograph; that was the fight that really kinda shattered their previously close relationship and solidified Maddy’s decision to try and find her dad; they’ve patched up but there is a wound there that hasn’t quite healed yet  Best Memory — when she graduated high school, the aunts and her mom took her on a big special trip to New York City Proud of — her writing, her family, her curated ~aesthetic, her individuality  Embarrassed by — sometimes she gets a little insecure about her weird home life and finances, but it depends on the crowd she’s with  Driving Style — chaotic af, speeds, drives with one leg hiked up. Her car back home was a used yellow VW beetle named Daisy Mae (RIP Daisy Mae — Maddy sold her to have some cash).  Strong Points — Passionate, curious, individualistic, wears her heart on her sleeve, compassionate  Attitude — Cheerful, positive, outgoing, go-getter!  Weakness — Moody, flighty, too idealistic, doesn’t like being told she’s wrong Fears — being insignificant  Phobias — nothing serious Secrets — her true intentions in Swynlake (for now)  Regrets — that big fight with her mom which COULDVE BEEN AVOIDED IF HER MOM HAD TOLD HER  Feels Vulnerable When — Pet Peeves — moms <3 who <3 lie <3  :))))))))))))) Conflicts — gurl you literally have the coolest found family in the world why are you chasing after your nonexistent father figure <3  Motivation — find that nonexistent father figure, and eventually herself ~~~~  Short Term Goals and Hopes — have a great time in Swynlake and do her little Eurotrip gap year and learn about herself and write a book about her experiences and make out with a lot of hot people  Long Term Goals and Hopes — become a renowned author who wins many awards  Sexuality — bisexual  Exercise Routine  — decently fit, prefers group workout classes, does yoga and stuff  Day or Night Person — Day! Introvert or Extrovert — Extrovert! Optimist or Pessimist — Eternally optimistic  Greatest Want — lead a beautiful and wonderful life Greatest Need — accept that sometimes life isn’t so beautiful and wonderful, and that’s okay

Likes and Styles:

Music — Indie pop. Books — Everything! She reads a lot. She has a wide range of reading, though I will say she’s a wee bit snobbish when it comes to, like, popular fiction. But still. She’ll read it. She’ll probably like it. She’ll just say that her favorite book is Anna Karenina, instead <3  Foods —  Key lime pie! It’s delicious. She has a sweet tooth. Also loves this quick lazy stir fry noodles her mom makes.  Drinks — Pina coladas (and getting caught in the rain ~). Also orange juice.  Animals — dolphins! Also manatees  Sports —  Auntie Tammy-Mae was a HUGE football person, despite the fact that no one else in the family was, so they followed pro sports and Maddy has a weird loyalty to the Miami Dolphins  Social Issues — very pro Magick  Favorite Saying — I literally never know what to put here.  Color — Oranges, pinks, and yellows.  Clothing — eclectic, boho, whimsical Jewelry — wears a lot of rings and necklaces and earrings <3 likes big stones over jewels  Games — lots of Sims; only has a Nintendo Switch and does like Animal Crossing and Pokemon and other more lowkey games; wouldn’t consider herself a Gamer ™ though  TV Shows — likes anime and animated shows and lots of cartoons, but also a lot of historical shows and romances. Probably loves Fruits Basket and Sailor Moon and the classic shojo shows instead of shonen  Movies — basically the same as above. Really into Your Name/Suzume and the rest of Shinkai’s work. 

Where and How Does Your Character Live Now:

Home — Benbow Apartments, 4D  Household furnishings — it’s still pretty sparse, but she’s slowly and surely making it a place of her own!  Favorite Possession — her journal!!!!!!!!!  Most Cherished Possession — it was her VW Bug Daisy Mae </3; now it’s her stuffed rabbit Piper  Neighborhood — Benbow Apartment Complex Town or City Name — Swynlake Married Before — Nope! Significant Other Before — various girlfriends and boyfriends through high school and college Children —  None!  Relationship with Family — She was so close to her mom all growing up and in the past couple of years they’ve started to have a rift, and it’s still friendly but there’s something there that neither of them have been able to bridge…… Car — RIP Daisy Mae, you were a real one Career —  bartender/bookshop clerk/writer Dream Career —  writer <3 Dream Life —  being a successful writer who gets interviewed by the New Yorker when her new books come out Love Life —  single and ready to mingle  Talents or Skills — writing, she’s also crafty, has a perfectly curated instagram too <3  Intelligence Level — she got pretty good grades, struggled a bit in college compared to high school especially in classes that required a lot of memorization of boring material, but she excelled anytime she had to analyze Finances — she’s simply trying not to think too much about this, thank you very much 

[cleaningsilverspring]

Maximizing Your Time: How Professional Cleaning Services In Silver Spring Can Boost Your Productivity

Maintaining a clean home can be an arduous task, one that can make it difficult to achieve balance in our lives. Parallel to this struggle, is the challenge of finding time for self-care and productivity.

Professional cleaning services in Silver Spring offer a beneficial solution that allows us to unburden our schedules while also improving the home environment. With their help, we can reclaim valuable time and use it to foster success and mental health.

Moreover, these services have proven to be cost-efficient solutions for staying organized and productive in life. This article will discuss how professional cleaning services Silver Spring can boost productivity by freeing up valuable time and creating an environment conducive for success and mental well-being.

Unburdening Your Schedule: How Delegating Cleaning to Professionals Frees Up Valuable Time

Delegating the task of cleaning to a professional service provider can help reduce the burden of routine cleaning tasks, freeing up valuable time for other activities.

Cleaning services in Silver Spring offer flexible scheduling options that make it easy to adjust your cleaning schedule to best fit your needs. With these services, you won't have to worry about squeezing in time for tedious chores such as dusting and vacuuming.

Instead, you can focus on more important tasks or simply enjoy the free hours granted by outsourcing this responsibility.

Prolific Steamers provides high-quality residential and commercial cleaning services in Silver Spring at competitive rates. Their team of experienced cleaners is committed to providing a thorough clean that will leave any space feeling fresh and inviting.

By relying on a trusted professional cleaning service like Prolific Steamers, clients are able to maximize their time while still ensuring their homes and businesses stay neat and tidy.

Improving Your Home Life: How a Clean Home Enhances Comfort, Peace, and Family Time

A clean home environment can provide numerous psychological benefits, such as reducing stress and improving mood, which may lead to increased satisfaction with family life; for example, a recent study found that people who live in tidy homes reported feeling more contentment with their relationships than those living in cluttered environments.

A neat and organized space can promote feelings of calmness, safety, security, and improved mental health. Furthermore, it allows families to enjoy quality time together without the distractions of clutter or messes that need to be cleaned up.

Benefits of having a clean home include:

- Improved air quality due to dusting and vacuuming regularly

- Lower levels of anxiety by decluttering unused items

- More relaxed atmosphere for spending time together as a family.

Having a clean house also offers an opportunity to foster better communication between family members. It encourages everyone in the household to take responsibility for their own belongings so they don't become clutter or cause messes that need cleaning up.

This fosters respect between family members by showing them how much they value one another's presence in the home. Ultimately, these positive effects lead to improved relationships within the household that will benefit everyone involved.

Why Time is Money: Analyzing the Cost-Efficiency of Hiring Professional Cleaning Services

Analyzing the cost-efficiency of hiring professional cleaning services can help to determine whether or not time savings and quality of service are worth the investment.

With the right team, a homeowner can save time and energy while ensuring their home is properly cleaned. Professional cleaners typically bring specialized equipment, products, and techniques that are far superior to what a homeowner can accomplish on their own. This means that surfaces will be sanitized more effectively and dirt will be removed from hard-to-reach places with greater ease.

In addition, these services often come with longer lasting results than DIY efforts due to the use of higher quality materials and practices.

The additional costs associated with professional cleaning services should also be considered when analyzing efficiency. While they may initially appear expensive, these costs can easily be offset by the time saved for other activities such as work or leisure pursuits.

Moreover, utilizing a professional cleaner reduces stress levels as homeowners no longer have to worry about maintaining their homes themselves - freeing up valuable mental resources for other tasks or relaxation.

Ultimately, investing in professional cleaning services can provide both peace of mind and increased productivity - making it an ideal choice for busy households looking to maximize their time efficiently.

From Stress to Success: How a Clean Environment Positively Impacts Productivity and Mental Health

Maintaining a clean environment can have significant positive effects on productivity and mental health, allowing individuals to reduce distractions and create a more conducive space for work or study.

By keeping the work area free of clutter, it becomes easier to focus on the task at hand in an organized manner. Efficient navigation through an uncluttered space allows one to more quickly locate materials needed for their task, leading to increased levels of productivity.

Furthermore, studies show that a cleaner workspace also leads to improved morale and motivation due to its calming effect on the mind. As anxiety levels decrease, so too does stress which can impede concentration. This makes it easier for individuals to complete tasks with greater accuracy while also improving their overall sense of wellbeing.

In addition to the psychological benefits, regular cleaning services can help keep surfaces disinfected which is beneficial from a health perspective as well. Hiring professional cleaners in Silver Spring provides a cost-efficient means of obtaining these benefits without having to take time out of one’s day for cleaning duties themselves.

Conclusion

The evidence is clear: outsourcing cleaning services to professionals can save time and money, while promoting a healthier home environment.

A recent survey found that individuals who switched to professional cleaning services spent less than two hours per week on housework, as opposed to six hours or more for those without such services.

With this extra time available, families can focus on activities that bring joy and relaxation.

Professional cleaning services in Silver Spring provide an invaluable resource for busy families trying to make the most of their time.

Prolific Steamers

Williamsburg Dr, Silver Spring, MD 20901

Phone: (410) 253-9940

[moremedtech]

FDA Authorizes First OTC At-Home Test to Detect Both Influenza and COVID-19 Viruses

FDA Authorizes First Over-the-Counter At-Home Test to Detect Both Influenza and COVID-19 Viruses. Silver Spring, Md., Feb. 24, 2023 - Today, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration issued an emergency use authorization (EUA) for the first over-the-counter (OTC) at-home diagnostic test that can differentiate and detect influenza A and B, commonly known as the flu, and SARS-CoV-2, the virus that causes COVID-19. The Lucira COVID-19 & Flu Test is a single-use at-home test kit that provides results from self-collected nasal swab samples in roughly 30 minutes. "Today's authorization of the first OTC test that can detect Influenza A and B, along with SARS-CoV-2, is a major milestone in bringing greater consumer access to diagnostic tests that can be performed entirely at home," said Jeff Shuren, M.D., J.D., director of the FDA's Center for Devices and Radiological Health. "The FDA strongly supports innovation in test development, and we are eager to continue advancing greater access to at-home infectious disease testing to best support public health needs. We remain committed to working with test developers to support the shared goal of getting more accurate and reliable tests to Americans who need them." The Lucira COVID-19 & Flu Test is a single-use test for individuals with signs and symptoms consistent with a respiratory tract infection, including COVID-19. The test can be purchased without a prescription and performed completely at home using nasal swab samples self-collected by individuals ages 14 years and older or collected by an adult for individuals 2 years of age or older. The test works by swirling the sample swab in a vial that is placed in the test unit. In 30 minutes or less, the test unit will display the results that show whether a person is positive or negative for each of the following: Influenza A, Influenza B, and COVID-19. Individuals should report all results obtained to their healthcare provider for public health reporting and to receive appropriate medical care. In individuals with symptoms, the Lucira COVID-19 & Flu Test correctly identified 99.3% of negative and 90.1% of positive Influenza A samples, 100% of negative and 88.3% of positive COVID-19 samples, and 99.9% of negative Influenza B samples. Since there are currently not enough cases of Influenza B circulating to include in a clinical study, validation confirmed that the test can identify the virus in contrived specimens, and the EUA requires Lucira to continue to collect samples to study the test's ability to detect Influenza B in real-world settings. As with all rapid diagnostic tests, there is a risk of false positive and false negative results. Individuals who test positive for either flu or COVID-19 should take appropriate precautions to avoid spreading the virus and should seek follow-up care with their physician or healthcare provider as additional testing may be necessary. Negative results for SARS-CoV-2 and influenza B should be confirmed, if necessary for patient management, with an authorized or cleared molecular test performed in a CLIA-certified laboratory that meets the requirements to perform high or moderate complexity tests. Individuals who test negative and continue to experience symptoms of fever, cough, and/or shortness of breath may still have a respiratory infection and should seek follow-up care with their healthcare provider. The collective impact of COVID-19, flu, and RSV underscores the importance of diagnostic tests for respiratory viruses, and the FDA recognizes the benefits that home testing can provide. The agency will continue to use its authorities to increase the number of appropriately accurate and easy-to-use at-home tests available to the public, especially tests that detect these highly contagious respiratory viruses. Read the full article

[shadahotels01]

What Are The Main Benefits And Characteristics Of A Premium Hotel?

Life is an extensive journey packed with discoveries at every turn. Any short journey to Jeddah pays huge benefits in terms of peace and gratitude. Such is the experience of eager travelers looking for five-star lodgings. What better way to satisfy this thirst? The greatest Business Hotel in Jeddah, delivering the best services on a silver platter! Luxury hotels may enrich your hotel experiences, and in this article, some of the advantages and features are discussed. Some of the advantages of vacationing in a luxury hotel are as follows.

1. Attractive Aesthetics

From the minute you come through the door, you may get the impression that you have arrived somewhere exceptional. Everything from the frontage, reception, lounge, and all other public areas, especially in the greatest luxury hotels, will have a lovely and fancy design.

2. Protections

Luxury hotels are frequently well-secured. Cameras and exclusive card access to rooms, as well as riding the elevator to your floor, are regularly working. There will be a safe in the room. Security officers are present, albeit they are not always visible.

3. Amazing Beds for Unmatched Comfort

When traveling, a good night's sleep is necessary. The vast majority of vacationers say that staying in a hotel is less comfortable than sleeping at home. To address difficulties such as travel sleeplessness and dangerous sleeping disorders, luxury hotels have adopted the concept of pleasant beds. Mattresses that are too old or of poor quality are bound to cause sleeplessness.

4. Conference and Event Facilities

Luxury hotels will be well-equipped, with amenities including conference and meeting rooms. They also feature wedding and banquet facilities for those who want to celebrate their special day. Every luxury hotel will have its distinct decor and style. Flexible seating arrangements, a peaceful setting, and a speaker system are just a few things to think about while organizing a meeting at a luxury hotel.

5. Spa Treatments for Rejuvenation and Relaxation

Spa-goers who are worried about their health may benefit the most. It should come as no surprise that natural hot springs and mineral water alternatives are accessible at luxury hotels. Beautiful spa rooms, exclusive specialized spa services (massages, facials, and body treatments), and other amenities such as steam, sauna, workout equipment, and a swimming pool are easily available to visitors.

6. Welcome and Final Goodbye Presents

Sometimes luxury hotels may greet you with flowers, chocolate, and other lovely items, and you may also be given something great, such as something local, as you check out. Unlike at home, you are not expected to perform any tasks while on vacation. Hotels will make you feel pampered by doing everything for you and taking the greatest care of you. So sit back and enjoy yourself!

Staying at The Most Luxurious Hotel in Jeddah is a terrific experience that comes with several advantages. You may discover great hotels all over the world that offer many, if not all, of the attributes stated in the essay. Luxury hotels are noted for their highly personalized service, which extends to their room amenities as well. The hotels are built for their customers' maximum comfort, and the suite amenities offer tailor-made services to meet your specific requirements. Staying at a luxury hotel is a terrific experience that comes with several rewards. So, pick the right luxury hotel and live like a king or queen!

[inkedrkives]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied (Chapter 1)

Park Taegoon lived a moral life—he was a good son, a better husband, and the best father. He married Im Yeri, with whom he has a son, Park Jimin. Yeri grew up in an orphanage, while Taegoon was born with a silver spoon—into a political dynasty. Belonging to an influential family meant living modestly and to serve as a role model to everybody, a kind of lifestyle aligned with Taegoon’s morals. 

That all changed, however, when his wife became collateral damage in a fight between two notorious groups in Seoul. Taegoon and Yeri were on their way to pick up their four-year-old son from school when she was hit by a bullet that ricocheted in her direction. 

Taegoon cursed the universe. Why? Of all people that the heavens could take away, they took his wife? His whole life, their whole life, they lead a good moral stance, a quiet life. He asked himself, what is the use of being a righteous man when they become the very victims of the wicked? Might as well fight fire with fire. 

Park Taegoon cut ties with his family and started his own empire of vigilantes. He pacified criminals and provided retribution police enforcement never could. Citizens worshiped him, and the government loathed him—labeling them as a Mafia group.

The day Yeri died was also  the day he lied to the world that he’d lost his son too, in order to keep Jimin safe. He promised Jimin a normal life, but Jimin shared the same vision as his father and promised to continue the legacy. However, such firm determination is slowly wavering, now that he has Jeongguk in his life, someone he wants to protect.

But holiness can never conquer the sinful—only a greater evil can. 

So, in the name of virtue, let there be chaos. 

​​─── ✻ ​​───

“Good morning.” Jeongguk hears Jimin greet him in a whisper. The sun was peeking through the blinds, letting them know that it was morning. Jimin kisses the back of Jeongguk’s neck, his shoulders, then to the curve of the younger one’s neck before kissing the latter’s left cheek. Jeongguk turns his head to meet the older’s lips, before his body moves to face him entirely. Skin to skin under the sheets, they shared another passionate kiss, before the younger one pulled back with a smile. “Good morning, Jimin hyung.”

They first met at the annual gala held by Park Taegoon, where many of the wealthiest people would gather and pledge a donation to several charities, one of them being Spring Day Orphanage—where his mother, Im Yeri, grew up. Ever since Taegoon lost Yeri, he took good care of the orphanage in memory of his wife. Coincidentally, Jeongguk was an orphan too, raised by the directress of the orphanage as her own, and over time it became his home.

Back then, it was Jimin’s first time attending the gala. With his father’s health declining, Taegoon introduced Jimin into the ins and outs of their empire. “It’s about time you take the reins, son.” He told Jimin. So, Jimin attended the gala on behalf of his father. Jeongguk just moved into his new apartment and was missing home, so when semestral break came, he attended the event as well. Needless to say, when their eyes found each other, it was infatuation at first sight—lust too, maybe. 

The responsibilities Jimin had on his plate was heavy, sometimes too heavy to bear. Jeongguk on the other hand was the embodiment of a stressed-out university student. Both needing an outlet to relax and let loose, they agreed to fuck. 

And fuck. 

And fuck.

But Jimin was always a gentleman to Jeongguk. He would always pick him up from university whenever his schedule permits, keep Jeongguk company whenever he studied in cafes until midnight, or even cook him dinner when he knew the younger one had skipped a meal to study. He took the greatest care of him. 

Jeongguk, on the other hand, was very attentive to Jimin. He’d notice when Jimin has a lot on his mind; he would put his book down and immediately pull him into a hug, sometimes he would give Jimin a small massage on the back. When he stays in Jimin’s office to study and sees his eyebrows knit together in frustration—Jeongguk would walk up to him and help him think of solutions. His intellect and ability to think on his feet attracted Jimin the most.

Although Jeongguk was younger, he was a little taller than Jimin, but needless to say, Jimin’s charisma and confidence more than made up for it; and although Jeongguk was taller, in Jimin’s eyes he is someone that needs bubble-wrapping. 

This wasn’t true in bed, though; because on most days, Jeongguk surprisingly loved taking over in the bedroom, and Jimin wouldn’t have it any other way. He was glad to be told what to do for once, especially when they fuck, and most especially by Jeon Jeongguk. 

On some days, however, Jimin would take care of the younger one, dominating over Jeongguk until both of them were shaking, trembling in pleasure, and spent. Jeongguk didn’t mind to submit, he gets turned on seeing Jimin take control too, specially with his tantalizing eyes and lustful, demanding gaze.

They did not only complement each other, they were drawn towards the other, like the opposite poles of a magnet. 

But they weren’t exactly in a relationship; they weren’t just fuck buddies either—although that was where it started. Somewhere in between, they grew fond of each other, and in time, without them realizing, lustful fucking turned into lovemaking. 

​​─── ✻ ​​───

“Hmm.” Jeongguk hummed as he ran his fingers along the spine of the books. Jeongguk spent the night in Jimin’s mansion, and he plans to stay for the entire weekend. Because of the many times Jeongguk had come over, Jimin had one of his reading rooms converted into Jeongguk’s study space, surrounded by his favorite books and with the view of the entire estate.

“Come on, just choose a book already, your coffee’s getting cold.” Jimin says, book in his hand as he takes a sip of his coffee. Jeongguk only nods, his eyes never leaving the books displayed in front of him. Jimin smiles and shakes his head. He put the book down on the table and walked to Jeongguk. 

Jimin was now standing beside Jeongguk. He pulls a book out and hands it to Jeongguk, “Here. You’ll love this. Now, we can finally read in peace.” Jimin says, turning around to walk back to the couch.  

“Hyung.” He heard Jeongguk say before he felt a hand slip into his back pocket. A soft chuckle leaves Jimin’s lips when Jeongguk tugs to pull him into a back hug. “Jimin hyung.” The taller one whispers, his arms circling around Jimin’s waist, lips moving against the crook of his neck. 

Jimin shoves his hands in the pocket of his slacks with a sneaky grin on his face. “You’re wrinkling my shirt.” He jokes. “I don’t care.” Jeongguk’s voice came out mumbled as his lips were busy spoiling Jimin. Then, Jeongguk’s hands were feeling up Jimin’s torso before he started unbuttoning Jimin’s shirt. 

A smirk finds its way to Jimin’s lips; he stops Jeongguk by holding his hands. “Something wrong?” Jimin asks, turning around and running his hand through Jeongguk’s hair. The latter shakes his head, “Nothing.” he lies. Jimin raised his eyebrows, “Tell me.” he says, voice stern that the younger one knows there’s no way Jimin would let him keep it to himself. 

“I just have this gut feeling that I'm going to lose you.” Jeongguk says, averting his gaze from the older. Jimin feels a pinch in his heart, his smile falling into a frown. 

You see, Jeongguk knew who Park Taegoon was; the directress told him about the orphanages’ biggest sponsor. In fact, he’d met him several times whenever Taegoon visited Spring Day Orphanage. Jeongguk found it odd, however, that Park Taegoon had stopped showing himself publicly the day he’d met Jimin. He also couldn’t ignore the fact that they have similar features, especially the eyes. 

So, Jeongguk did his research.

Nothing came up. Each and every news article confirmed the death of Taegoon’s son. Meanwhile, all the articles about Jimin told nothing about his childhood. Media only talked about his ivy league degree in the U.S. and his multi-national success at a young age. 

Jimin opened his lips to say something, but before he could begin, his phone rang. He pulled Jeongguk closer by putting his hand behind his neck. “I’ll be right back.” Jimin says, kissing the younger one briefly before excusing himself and taking the phone with him. 

Jimin made sure he was out of Jeongguk’s earshot when he answered the call. 

“What is it?” He asks. 

“Your father wants to see you.. It’s bad, Jimin. He doesn’t have long.” It was Yoongi, as young as he is, Taegoon chose him to be his right hand man. 

Jimin dreaded receiving this phone call. 

“Tell Namjoon to have the boat ready by dawn.” Jimin orders. “And I want all of our ledgers, blueprints, and the island’s census secured and ready for me.” He adds, before ending the call right away.

Jimin’s mind was clouded now, if he was being honest, he felt a little panic rising within him. He was at the brink of losing his father, leading an empire, and possibly, losing Jeongguk. 

“Fuck.” He curses under his breath as he ran a hand through his hair. 

​​─── ✻ ​​───

“Jeongguk-ah.” Jimin softly says as he wore a smile on his face. The younger one was working on his presentation in the study. “Hm?”

“If you knew it was your last day on earth, what would you do?” A shadow blocked the light coming from the window when Jimin rested his palms on the table. Jeongguk looks up at him. “Ask you what you want to do.” He jokes and gets back to doing his work. “And maybe cuddle.” He shrugs.

Jimin laughs at his answer. He grabs Jeongguk’s attention again by lifting the younger’s chin with his index finger. “I’m serious. Is there anything you want to do? Anything you want to have?”

‘Confess.’, was what Jeongguk wanted to say.

“Why are you asking all of a sudden?”

“No particular reason. Maybe a little graduation gift.” Jimin sugarcoats. 

Jeongguk smirks, eyes squinting as he thinks of the craziest idea he could. “Hmm, skinny dipping? That would be fun. Get drunk, get naked, have fun with no fucks given. It’s my last day on earth anyway. Also, I want to try making that dessert—what’s it called again? One with a biscuit, marshm—smores! That’s what they’re called. I also want to…” Jeongguk continued listing all the things he wanted to do; and Jimin listened intently, determined to make Jeongguk the happiest man on earth with the last few hours he had with him. 

​​─── ✻ ​​───

Jimin wasted no time, if they leave now, they could make it to the cabin before sundown. 

“Hyung, aren’t we supposed to buy ingredients for the smores?” Jeongguk turns to Jimin, who briefly spares him a glance before gluing his eyes back to the road. 

“Don’t worry about it, I already asked one of my staff to get them and deliver them to the cabin.” He replies, making sure to use the word ‘staff’ instead of ‘men’. Jeongguk sits up in shock, “Cabin?! Wait–I thought we were only going to buy ingredients?” 

“If I told you where we were really going, would you have come with me?” Jimin spares him a look, raising his eyebrows. Jeongguk relaxed back on his seat. “No.” He laughs. 

“I know you too well, Bun. Plus, you wanted to go skinny dipping. There’s no way I'm letting you go skinny dipping in public.”

“Ah, the world is missing out on my body.” Jeongguk jokes, earning a laugh from the older. 

“Don’t care. I’m selfish.” Jimin said before his eyes observed something in the rear view mirror. A sedan had been following them for a while now.

Jimin turned to Jeongguk for a while, “Do you have your seatbelt on?” He asks, glancing to see the strap across his torso. Jeongguk nods, “Of course, you wouldn’t drive when I didn’t have them on.” He laughs. A grin finds its way to Jimin’s lips, “Good bunny.” He says, momentarily taking his right hand off the wheel to touch the younger’s chin. 

The older one glances at the rearview mirror, taking a mental note of the sedan’s plate number. “Hold on tight, alright?” Jimin warns, and before Jeongguk could react, Jimin stepped on the gas and made a sharp right, catching Jeongguk off-guard. 

“Hyung!! What the—” Jeongguk curses, Jimin laughs it off. “Slow down! Why are you in a hu—” Jeongguk is interrupted when the car bounces off a speed bump. 

“Oops, sorry I didn’t see that.” Jimin only lies as he checks the rearview mirror. 

Jimin takes a sharp left, entering a narrow alley before stepping on the gas again. “I just can’t wait to see you skinny dipping.” 

Jeongguk looks at him in surprise, “We might die before you see me skinny dipping if you keep dr—driving like this! Park Jimin!” His voice stutters, dropping all honorifics when Jimin drifted the car.

Jimin ignores him, and he notices that the sedan following them is no longer there. 

Relief washed over Jimin. He wasn’t afraid that he was being tailed, rather, it was because Jeongguk was in the car with him as he was tailed. 

It was as if the universe was telling him that it is but right to leave Jeongguk.

“That was fun, wasn’t it? Now we might get there 10 minutes earlier than originally planned.” Jimin innocently smiles, finally driving at a reasonable speed. 

“You are unbelievable, Jimin.” Jeongguk scolds, eyebrows furrowed, not caring that he dropped all formalities. 

​​─── ✻ ​​───

They’ve arrived at the cabin, but Jimin doesn’t wake Jeongguk up yet. He quietly exits the car and dialed Namjoon. 

“Jimin.” Kim Namjoon, head of their logistics, answers right away. 

“I need you to transfer the boat to a different wharf, somewhere we don’t usually dock.”

“Sure, but may I know why?”

“I was followed.”

“What?! Didn’t you take security with you?” Namjoon asks. 

“I’m with Jeongguk.” Jimin replies, and he hears Namjoon sigh on the line. 

“I don’t think it’s wise to keep this from Jeongguk, Jimin. You might just expose him to more danger if—”

“Let me know once everything is arranged. I have to make another call.” Jimin interrupts Namjoon, who only stays silent in defeat. “Ah, by the way, send a separate car for Jeongguk tomorrow, and have security with him as well.”

“Alright.” Namjoon says before the call ends.

Jimin turns his head to check whether Jeongguk was still sleeping before dialing his head of security, Yoongi. 

“Hey.” Yoongi answers after two rings. 

“I need you to run a plate check on a car. I’ll send you the plate number.” Jimin says.

“Were you followed?”

“I was. Find out who’s behind it, and I want them brought before me.” Jimin orders. 

On the other side of the line, Yoongi raised his eyebrow in curiosity. “Before you? You don’t want our men to handle it?” 

Jimin steals another glance at Jeongguk before speaking. 

“They put Jeongguk in danger. It’s only fair to return the favor.” He sternly replies.

“Interesting. Alright. Anything else?”

Jimin turns around and looks at the sleeping boy in his passenger seat. Jeongguk looked so peaceful. “Send security my way, but I want them to stay about a hundred yards away from the cabin and lake. I don’t want Jeongguk to notice.”

“Got it.”

“I’ll see you on the island.” Jimin says before he ends the call.

Jimin walks back to the car.

Jeongguk feels a thumb caress his cheek. “Hey bun, we’re here.” he hears Jimin whisper, and his eyes slowly flutter open. “Hi.” Jimin says softly, kissing his forehead. 

Jeongguk’s heart skips a beat, Jimin was being more affectionate than usual that Jeongguk felt that it was too good to be true. “Hyung.” Jeongguk says, grabbing Jimin by the back of his neck to stop him from pulling away,  maintaining their close proximity. 

“Hm?” Jimin hums, eyes not leaving Jeongguk’s. 

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, as he was also confused at why he’d stop Jimin from pulling away like that. 

They share a comfortable silence, “Hm.” Jimin smiles, eyes turning into crescent moons as he leaned his right elbow on the center console, dipping down to kiss Jeongguk. The younger one responds right away, lips moving against Jimin’s. 

Jimin breaks the kiss right away, “Tonight, you have me all to yourself, Jeongguk. I’m not going anywhere.” He says; but a lingering feeling in Jeongguk’s stomach tells him that Jimin is lying.

​​─── ✻ ​​───

“I can’t b-believe we just did t-that.” Jeongguk stammered, lips shivering as he wrapped himself in a warm towel. 

They just had their dinner and smores when Jeongguk decided to rid himself of his clothes and jump on the lake. Jimin refused to do it at first, but the younger one whined, “Hyung! It’s our last day on earth and no one’s watching! Come on!” And so, Jimin gets naked before finally diving into the lake.

Jimin walks into the living room, already dressed in a robe, hair still dripping wet. He brought with him a robe for Jeongguk and a thick comforter hanging off his shoulder. “You better not catch a cold, Jeongguk.” Jimin laughed, shaking his head as he handed the robe. 

While Jeongguk dressed himself in the robe, Jimin walked around the cabin, making sure each window was locked. He ruffled his hair dry with a smaller towel as he walked, pulling the blinds closed as he did. The younger one, on the other hand, was busy adding wood to the fireplace. 

“Should we drink some wine?” Jeongguk suggests, but Jimin shakes his head. He wanted to be sober, he wanted to remember his last night with Jeongguk crystal clear. “I’ll pass, but I’ll get you your wine.”

​​─── ✻ ​​───

♫ — now playing: can’t help falling in love by elvis

Jimin ran his fingers through Jeongguk’s hair again and again. He was seated on the carpeted floor, legs flat on the ground with his right foot over the other, back rested on the edge of the couch. Meanwhile, the younger boy who has his heart, was lying on his lap with his eyes closed, humming along the music playing in the background. 

Jimin was absentmindedly staring at the fireplace when Jeongguk spoke, “Jimin hyung.” His voice was soft, Jimin could tell that the wine already got to him. “What is it, Bun?” He replies, moving to hold Jeongguk’s hand resting over his chest. 

Jeongguk slowly opens his eyes, gazing up at Jimin. A soft, lazy chuckle leaves his lips. “Can we pretend that today really is our last day on earth?” He asks, eyes a little dazed; From the alcohol? The emotions? Jeongguk wasn’t sure. 

“Of course. I think we’ve already established that earlier.” Jimin felt the material of the robe on his palm as he gave Jeongguk a light pat on his chest. “Shall we go to bed?” Jimin smiles as he peered down to look at Jeongguk.

But Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, and they share a comfortable silence with only the light crackling of the firewood and the faint music filling their ears. They never looked away from each other, lost in each other’s eyes. 

Slowly, without breaking his gaze, Jeongguk sits up and rests his left palm just beside the older one’s thigh. He lifts his right hand to cup Jimin’s cheek. 

“I have two other things I want to do before my last day on earth ends.” Jeongguk whispers, thumb caressing the apple of Jimin’s cheek. 

Jeongguk’s gaze gave Jimin a warm feeling in his stomach. 

Jimin’s heart was hammering against his chest—He loves the boy, there was no denying it now. 

“What is it?” He asks. Jeongguk briefly breaks eye-contact, gaze falling on Jimin’s lips before looking into his eyes again.

“Confess.” Jeongguk breathes out. “I like you, Jimin hyung.”

Jimin’s eyes widened for a split second before Jeongguk leans in to kiss him. 

Jeongguk gently breaks away from the kiss. “You make me so, so happy.”  He continues, forehead resting on Jimin’s, noses touching. 

Jimin’s hold on Jeongguk’s hand tightened, and at that moment, he swore to protect Jeongguk. Even if it meant being away from him. 

“What else, Bun?” Jimin whispers, ignoring the tight feeling in his chest.

Jeongguk pulls away the slightest, locking eyes with Jimin again. 

“I want to make love with you.”

And they did just that—they made love, with everything else turned into white noise except each other. No words had to be said; with each kiss, each moan, each movement, they knew what they shared was a word greater than love.  

​​─── ✻ ​​───

“You’ll come and see me on my graduation day, right hyung?” Jeongguk asks, looking at Jimin with hopeful, doe eyes. 

‘You have to tell me, hyung. You have to tell me the truth.’ Jeongguk thought as he looked past the security Jimin had provided him. Jeongguk chose not to question everything, he chose to feign ignorance that the man he loves has something to do with Park Taegoon, a man who led an empire of cold-blooded killers.

Jimin nods, “Of course, Bun.” forcing a smile, knowing well that this will be the last time he’ll see the love of his life; because tonight, he will be crowned as the new mafia don. 

Jeongguk was Jimin’s comfort, his rest, his piece of peace; and he was in love with him, deeply so. 

But once he takes over the empire, Jimin would be all-powerful; and the mafia don knew that his enemies will leave no stones unturned only to look for his weakness, and this would put Jeongguk in peril.

So, Jimin stayed in the dark, for Jeongguk to bask freely under the sunlight; because this very love will be the reason for the empire’s downfall—Jeon Jeongguk is Jimin’s achilles’ heel.

[rainy-day-coffee]

Hi, Indigo-senpai! Can I ask for some fluffy spring headcanons for Silver, Sebek, Vil, and Epel taking care of their fem s/o who turned into a literal fluffy, yet cute baby bunny please? Thank you! ~💕kouhai heart anon

Oh to be in Vil’s care

I apologize for the wait on this!

Taking care of their bunny-turned s/o

While Silver does encounter rabbits frequently, he doesn’t know how to properly take care of one. He consults Lilia for advice but does everything himself. It’s his responsibility to make sure you’re well taken care of in your bunny form!

He doesn’t want to accidentally leave you vulnerable so he prefers to carry you everywhere with him. He doesn’t grow tired of holding you in his arms at all! If anything, he likes the feeling of your fur and the warmth you emit. He misses hugging you in your human form though.

He always makes sure to carry around snacks for you! That way, if he accidentally falls asleep for a long time, you won’t be going hungry.

He lets you lay down on his legs or lap. His chest is an option too! Sometimes he hums a little or reads a book aloud for you to fill the silence.

When slumber claims your boyfriend, you’re welcome to join him in dreamland or simply stare at his sleeping face. If you’re interested, you can befriend Silver’s animal friends while you wait for him to wake up.

He scolds you first off. Had you been careful, you wouldn’t be in this situation. He goes on for a good while until he realizes it will change nothing.

He has a little internal war with himself at first. On one hand, he needs to take care of you. On the other, he has to protect Malleus. His solution to this? Carry you with him everywhere he goes! He purchases a special backpack just for you from Sam’s shop.

He talks to you a lot! Mostly he talks about his day or just rants about a new book he’s been reading. He knows you can’t answer, but having you listening is enough for him.

He won’t admit it, but he loves petting you. Your fur is ridiculously soft and he can’t help but want to continuously give you pats throughout the day. He’s certainly not going to complain when he has to brush you!

If he can help it, he’ll be brewing up a reversal potion immediately. In this case, however, it was best to leave you be until you reverted back to normal.

You will be the most pampered bunny ever known. He buys you the best of everything you could possibly need for your new form. It doesn’t matter if you’ll only be staying this way for a couple of days; Vil goes above and beyond.

He does his research too! You’ll be staying in very good health with enough exercise and nutritious food. With so much care, your fur will be very glossy and soft as a result! On that note, loves brushing your fur! He makes sure to do it every day in the mornings and dresses you up with accessories afterward.

Loves it when you curl up on his lap while he works on something! He pets your head and runs his fingers through your fur as you snooze away. 

Epel most likely used to take care of rabbits back at home! Whether it was through a pet he had, or helping out a nearby farm, he knows a bit about what to do.

He doesn’t want you feeling lonely so he takes you everywhere he can! You can lounge about on the grass while he’s doing club activities or sleep on his desk while he studies. It gives him a chance to show off too! Watch him pull off a really cool move while playing magical shift!

Like Sebek, he talks to you a lot! He wants to keep you updated on everything happening in school and with your group of friends. He will happily tell you about his magical shift practice, even though you were right there to witness it all.

When it’s time for bed, he plops you on an extra pillow right beside him and places a makeshift blanket on you. He may not be able to cuddle you in fear of squishing you in his sleep, but he will keep you near. When you turn back, you will have to make up for a lot of missed cuddle sessions.

[scones-and-texting-and-murder]

Bookends

(This story was originally written for and published in the DeanCas Anthology back in 2018. )

Word Count: 2223 Rating: General ao3 link

Cas pulls as close to the door as he can, checking the rearview mirror to make sure he isn’t blocking traffic as he waits for Dean to get out of the car. Before heading inside, Dean ducks his head back in to smile at him. “I’ll get us some coffee.”

Instead of driving away, Cas stays there, watching until Dean pulls open the diner door. Leaning heavily on his cane, he shuffles more than walks, his bow-legged gait made stiff by the arthritis that wracks his joints. Cas waits until he’s safely inside, then pulls past the open handicapped space Dean stubbornly refuses to use, and finds an empty parking spot.

Cas’s car is boxy and utilitarian, and Dean often proclaims that he wouldn’t be caught dead behind the wheel of something so ugly. Cas plays along because giving up driving had been Dean’s toughest concession to age, but as his vision deteriorated and his reflexes slowed, it had become an unavoidable sacrifice. With replacement parts for the Impala harder and harder to come by, Dean had finally agreed to keep her stored safely away in their garage. Cas knew it pained him to see her shrouded under a tarp, her motor idle and useless, but Dean would rather enshrine her in pristine condition than risk one more run-in with a light pole or curb.

With his ugly car parked, Cas crosses the lot to join Dean inside. While he’s aged as well, aged to the point that nobody questions the two of them together, he’s been spared many of the maladies that Dean’s combat-wrecked body has endured, and he moves with relative ease. The best they can figure is that the grace he’d had on and off over the years left his body with a certain resilience to the passage of time. Cas can’t cure Dean as he once could, can’t ease the aches or slow the aging process, but he can use his own comparatively good health and mobility to take care of him.

Inside, Cas navigates past the hostess stand to find Dean at their usual booth, chatting with their usual waitress. The two of them go to this diner religiously each Sunday morning, where the pews are scuffed burgundy vinyl booths and the altar is the breakfast buffet with the generous senior discount. As always, Dean has maneuvered himself across the bench seat to make room for Cas to sit beside him. His cane rests against the wall in easy reach, the simple carved wooden handle belying the fact that the base unscrews to reveal a bayonet-like tip. It’s never been wielded as a weapon (although Dean uses it, still sheathed, to poke at aggressive pigeons who muscle in around their favorite park bench), but that potential made it “badass” enough to overcome Dean’s resistance to using it.

To Sam’s everlasting chagrin, Dean has kept all of his hair, and it’s turned a stunning silver. The crinkles around his eyes have deepened, meeting the roadmap of lines that cross his face. His shoulders are stooped, his joints are stiff, and Cas thinks he’s never been more beautiful. After so many seemingly certain ends, so many years assuming Dean would die young and bloodied, the fact that he’s living out a full, lengthy life is an unparallelled blessing. Cas marvels at the gift of days that have unfolded into decades, granting them time he never dreamed they’d have together here on earth.

As Cas settles into the booth, he smiles and greets their waitress.

“Two for the buffet?” she confirms as she pours their coffee. Cas doesn’t even have to check to know that she’ll leave Dean’s at a little more than half-full so he can lift it without the tremor in his hands sloshing it over the brim.

They drink their coffee quietly, simply enjoying the ritual of being here. Dean peers at the laminated card that lists the specials, even though he never orders off the menu.

“Shall I?” When Dean nods, Cas gets to his feet. “Any requests?”

“You know what I like,” Dean says, leaning over to swat at Cas’s butt.

Picking up two plates from the warmer, Cas slides them along the metal counter, filling them in tandem as he traverses the buffet. Pancakes are too difficult for Dean to get on a fork, but the crisp waffles are good. Bacon he can pick up and eat, and Cas uses the tongs to place precisely two strips on his plate. If Dean wants more, he can get up and get it himself.

Dean can argue with Cas’s choices, but they’d had a hell of a scare a few years back. Cas will never forget the look on Dean’s face when their phone rang in the middle of the night, alerting them that Sam had been taken to the hospital in an ambulance. They’d rushed there themselves, Cas driving in silence, knowing that nothing short of seeing Sam with his own two eyes could reassure Dean. Thankfully, it had been a mild heart attack and, after spending a few days in the hospital, the discharge plan called for cardiac rehab and an appointment with a nutritionist. With Sam’s release imminent, Dean had relaxed enough to crow at the irony. “Don’t either of you try to tell me what to eat ever again. Mr. Organic Produce is the one lying in the hospital bed while my pork-rind-fueled ticker is going strong.”

Still pale, Sam’s brow furrowed with resignation. “I’m beginning to think you can’t die.”

Dean jabbed a finger in his direction. “You don’t get to go first. We have a deal.”

“Yes, sir.” Sam lifted the hand without the IV in a mock salute.

“That’s more like it,” Dean said. “Speaking of which, I need a snack.”

Cas helped him up and they walked to the elevator that would take them to the cafeteria. As they waited for it to arrive, Dean pulled Cas into a hug. Cas left a hand on his shoulder when they stepped apart again. “All right?”

Dean nodded, his green eyes shining with tears. “I’m glad you’re here.” Cas started to respond, to remind him that there was nowhere else he would be, but Dean cut him off. “I know you know. But I wanted to say it anyhow.”

Cas noticed a change after that. Dean was still the same stubborn mule Cas had fallen in love with, but he gradually became more willing to let Cas help. And somehow, Cas loved him even more for it. He loved seeing the slow-blossoming acceptance that came when Dean stopped seeing Cas’s help as a sign of weakness.

Now, standing in front of the steaming trays of food, Cas considers what else to add to their plates. He bypasses the cauldron of oatmeal (they eat that at home most mornings) and continues along the buffet. There’s a tremendous satisfaction in being allowed to care for this man who has done so much for so many and asked for so little in return. In fact, Dean has now embraced this new role so fully—no longer questioning what he deserves, or grudgingly accepting help, but full-on enjoyment of being doted on—that Cas has to be careful he doesn’t get lazy. There’s nothing Cas would rather do than settle Dean in front of a sunny window, snug in the recliner for Cas to wait on like a pampered cat, but he knows that sort of inactivity would do Dean’s joints and his heart no favors. So he watches Dean’s diet and insists on them taking slow walks after breakfast when his energy is highest.

Their neighborhood is a mix of young and old and everyone knows the two Mr. Winchesters who circle the block on days when the weather permits. The kids on bikes and scooters know to give them a wide berth, their parents warning them that the old men need the entire sidewalk, but they call out their hellos as they go by. They’re friendly with everyone except the woman who lives on the corner. Dean is convinced she’s a demon, but Cas suspects his distrust of her stems more from the fact that she seems immune to his charm. (Whatever the reason, he’s had to talk Dean out of chalking a devil’s trap inside her mailbox more than once.) They chat with their neighbors about the weather and the score of last night’s ballgame, and it’s so painfully normal that Cas sometimes feels his throat tighten up at the wonder of it all.

When Cas returns to their booth, Dean examines his plate. “They outta bacon?”

Cas cuts the waffle into manageable pieces and peels the wrapper from the muffin before sliding Dean’s plate over. “You know the deal.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says. “You just like to look at my ass when I get up.”

They eat in congenial silence with Dean methodically working his way around his plate, eating everything heartily, even the fruit. Sitting next to him, Cas can easily scoop up any bites that miss his mouth, plucking them from Dean’s lap or his shirt.

“You two good?” The waitress asks when she comes to refill their coffees. “Need anything?”

Dean swallows the bite of muffin he’s working on, and rests his hand on top of Cas’s. “I’ve got everything I need right here. An actual angel, this one.”

She nods agreeably. “I can almost see his halo.”

Cas has learned that an old man can say just about anything and receive an indulgent smile in return. When Dean references angels or demons or the apocalypse, people assume he’s speaking in metaphor and they’ll nod pleasantly. Sometimes he’ll do it purely for effect, telling rambling tales from their past for the sheer enjoyment of being able to speak openly. He can’t always keep the details straight, but Cas is there to remind him. Some days, though, he seems to lose where he is in time, and there’s nothing Cas can do for that. Cas has taken to keeping a watchful eye on him in the late afternoons when he likes to doze on the couch with their one-eyed black cat curled up on his chest. Cas stays close in case he wakes from his nap agitated, calling for Cas, wanting to know where Sam is. Cas helps him to sit up as the cat springs down and scurries away.

“Don’t go,” he says again and again, and Cas takes him in his arms, assuring Dean that he’s here and reminding him that Sam is safe at his own home. He holds him until Dean shakily dismisses it all as just a bad dream.

The unfairness of it overwhelms Cas, and each time he’s left filled with wrath. These final years should be spent in well-earned peace, but instead Dean seems cursed with reliving his most frightening memories, traumatized anew by old, familiar fears. If Dean’s mind is destined to slip, why can’t it be toward blissful forgetting? What Dean has endured goes beyond what any human should; to ask him to bear it again is nothing short of cruel. But it’s a torture chamber created in his own mind, and all Cas can do is sit helplessly by, doing his best to ground Dean and bring him back to the present.

Cas looks at Dean’s empty plate. “Did you want to get some more?”

“Nah.” He’s full and happy and it’s time for their walk.

The waitress arrives to clear their plates. As he does every week, Dean asks if she needs to see his ID for the senior discount. As she does every week, she pretends to consider it before leaving the check. “You boys take your time.”

“Tip her well,” Dean says, leaning in to supervise Cas as he signs the bill.

“I always do,” Cas assures him.

When they’re ready to leave, Cas stands next to the banquette, waiting for Dean to retrieve his cane and slide himself to the edge. Using a combination of the cane and Cas’s extended arm, Dean hoists himself upright, groaning a little. Cas keeps a firm hold on him until he’s steady on his feet. Dean still dresses in layers, but these days it’s because he gets chilled easily. He favors heavy knit cardigans and as long as Cas gets the zipper started for him he can tug it up or down as needed. Cas checks him for crumbs then together they walk through the other tables crowded with families. They continue by the hostess station where a woman is wiping down menus. “See you next week,” she calls as they pass.

Cas steps forward to push open the door, and stands holding it. “Watch your step,” he says as he always does, pointing toward the raised metal threshold of the doorway.

Using his cane to steady himself, Dean shuffles his way over it, then stops to lay his hand on Cas’s cheek. His knuckles are gnarled, the skin of his palm is dry and warm, and Cas feels the same flare of awe go through him as he has since the moment he first found this glorious soul in the depths of hell.

“I am the luckiest man who has ever lived,” Dean says.

Cas kisses his palm, then takes his arm to help him on his way.

[cleaningsilverspring]

Top 5 Reasons Why You Need A Professional Upholstery Cleaning Service In Silver Spring

Upholstery cleaning can be a tedious, time-consuming process that most individuals would rather avoid. However, it is an essential part of maintaining the investment that you have made in your furniture.

Like a snowball rolling down a hill, the benefits of regularly scheduled professional upholstery cleaning are only compounded with time - so don't wait for too long!

This article will explore five key reasons why engaging the services of a professional upholstery cleaner in Silver Spring should be at the top of your to-do list.

From extending the life of your furniture to improving indoor air quality and even enhancing your health and wellbeing, these five compelling reasons are sure to leave you convinced that it's worth investing in professional upholstery cleaning.

Maintaining Your Investment: How Regular Upholstery Cleaning Extends the Life of Your Furniture

By investing in regular upholstery cleaning, furniture owners can help maintain the material's integrity and extend its lifespan.

Professional upholstery cleaners such as Prolific Steamers in Silver Spring provide a comprehensive cleaning service that removes dirt, dust, and allergens that can degrade fabric over time. This not only preserves the look of your furniture but also extends its lifespan for many years.

In addition to removing dirt and debris from your upholstery, professional cleaners like Prolific Steamers use specialized detergents and techniques to ensure deep-down cleanliness without damaging the fabric or leaving any residue behind. They are trained to identify fabrics and determine which products are best suited for each type of material so you can be sure that your furniture is being properly taken care of.

Upholstery cleaning services also help prevent more serious damage from occurring by removing spots or stains before they become permanent fixtures on the fabric.

Regular upholstery cleaning services from professionals like those at Prolific Steamers in Silver Spring offer an excellent way to protect your long-term investment in furniture while keeping it looking great for years to come. By routinely scheduling cleanings with experienced professionals, you can ensure that your furniture remains attractive and comfortable while preserving its value for many years down the road.

Breathe Easier: The Impact of Professional Upholstery Cleaning on Indoor Air Quality

The impact of professional upholstery cleaning on indoor air quality can be significant, particularly in regards to reducing the amount of dust and allergens present. Upholstery fabric naturally collects dust particles and other airborne debris over time, which can become trapped in the fibers. This debris buildup will not only make furniture look dull and dingy, but it can also reduce indoor air quality by releasing these contaminants back into the atmosphere.

Professional upholstery cleaners are equipped with specialized cleaning solutions and techniques that can effectively remove this buildup from fabrics while preserving their color and texture. Moreover, professional upholstery cleaning services may also use special equipment such as high-powered vacuums to further reduce allergens in the air. By suctioning away any lingering dirt or dust particles deep within the fabric fibers, these machines ensure that all traces of airborne debris have been removed from your furniture’s surface.

With regular maintenance through professional upholstery cleaning services, homeowners can rest assured knowing that their indoor air quality is being improved with every visit. Regularly using a professional upholstery cleaner helps homeowners maintain a healthy living environment while ensuring their furniture remains looking its best for years to come. Not only does it help keep your home clean and free of unwanted allergens, but it also allows you to extend the life of your furniture by removing harmful agents before they cause permanent damage to the fabric fibers or discolor them over time.

Tackling Tough Stains: Why DIY Isn't Always the Answer for Upholstery Cleaning

When attempting to remove a difficult stain from upholstery, DIY cleaning methods are often insufficient and may even cause further damage; for example, if an incorrect solvent is used on a delicate fabric, the color or texture of the material can be permanently altered.

Professional upholstery cleaners have the knowledge and resources to safely treat tough stains without damaging your furniture. Here are five reasons why you should consider calling in a professional:

- A professional cleaner has access to specialized equipment that can better tackle deep-seated dirt and grime than what you would find at a store.

- Professionals use specially formulated detergents designed to target certain types of stains while preserving the integrity of fabrics.

- Professional cleaners understand how different fabrics respond differently when exposed to various solvents and soils, allowing them to choose an appropriate cleaning method for your upholstery.

- Professional cleaners have experience with common furniture materials such as velvet, leather, microfiber, cotton, suede and other fabrics that require special care when cleaning.

The cost of hiring a professional cleaner may seem high but it is important to remember that they will get the job done quickly and correctly – something which DIY cleaning solutions cannot always guarantee.

Whether it’s due to stubborn stains or simply because you want your furnishings looking their best again, enlisting the help of a professional upholstery cleaner is an investment worth making.

Beyond Aesthetics: The Health Benefits of Professional Upholstery Cleaning in Silver Spring

Keeping upholstery clean and free from dirt, dust, and allergens can provide numerous health benefits. Upholstery cleaning Silver Spring is an important part of maintaining a healthy home environment and should not be overlooked.

Professional upholstery cleaning services offer various advantages when it comes to keeping furniture looking great and ensuring the air quality inside the home remains high.

Regularly cleaning or replacing dirty upholstery helps reduce exposure to airborne allergens such as pet dander, dust mites, pollen, mold spores, bacteria, and viruses. Allergies can be triggered by these microscopic particles floating in the air which can cause sneezing, coughing, itchy eyes or skin irritation. Keeping upholstered furniture clean eliminates this risk by trapping particles that could otherwise find their way into your lungs when inhaled. Professional services ensure deep cleaning of all fabrics so that no trace of allergens are left behind.

In addition to improving air quality within a home or office space, professional upholstery cleaning also decreases the spread of bacteria that may cause illnesses such as colds or flu-like symptoms. This is especially important for children who are more susceptible to germs due to their developing immune systems.

Professional cleaning services use specialized equipment designed to remove even the toughest stains while also killing harmful microorganisms on contact with hot water extraction technology - a process that leaves fabrics feeling fresh and looking like new again!

Conclusion

Upholstery cleaning in Silver Spring is an important part of maintaining the furniture investments made by homeowners. Professional upholstery cleaning services not only provide aesthetic benefits, but also extend the life of furniture and improve indoor air quality.

DIY solutions are not always effective in tackling tough stains or addressing health benefits associated with regular cleaning. Ultimately, investing in professional upholstery cleaning services offers a plethora of advantages that are simply too good to pass up - it is an investment that pays off for years to come.

As such, these services should be considered essential to any home maintenance regimen; procrastinating on this front could cost more in the long run than taking proactive measures now. Upholstery cleaning is an age-old practice that has stood the test of time and continues to remain relevant today.

Prolific Steamers

Williamsburg Dr, Silver Spring, MD 20901

Phone: (410) 253-9940