#Quarterly returns

[arabianaccess]

Understanding VAT Returns in Saudi Arabia : An Overview for Beginners

Starting a business in Saudi Arabia or already operating one there? It is crucial to know about VAT or Value-Added Tax to ensure the success and growth of your company.

This blog will be a complete beginner’s introduction to VAT returns in Saudi Arabia, including what they entail, why they are important, and how to claim them.

By the end of this post, you should have a better understanding of how VAT returns can benefit your business and how to successfully claim them.

What exactly are VAT returns?

VAT returns allow businesses to lower their tax bill by recovering back VAT paid on specific costs. There are two forms of VAT returns in Saudi Arabia: input VAT  and export VAT returns.

Input VAT returns are available for purchases of goods and services used in the manufacture or sale of taxable products or services.

whilst export VAT returns are available for enterprises that export goods or services outside of the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) territory.

What is the significance of VAT return?

VAT returns may have a big influence on a company’s bottom line. Businesses can minimize their tax bill and enhance their cash flow by claiming back VAT paid on costs. This can help organizations stay competitive and reinvest in their growth and development.

How can businesses claim  VAT returns in Saudi Arabia ?

Businesses in Saudi Arabia must satisfy certain requirements and follow particular processes in order to claim VAT returns. Businesses, for example, must keep sufficient documentation to support refund claims, file refund applications within particular time constraints, and follow VAT requirements.

In Saudi Arabia, beginners may find getting VAT returns complicated and time consuming. That is why it is critical to seek the advice of a top accounting firm in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia that has worked with firms similar to yours and can give customised solutions to assist you maximise your VAT return advantages.

Who has to file VAT returns in Saudi Arabia?

Every taxable person registered under KSA VAT law must file the VAT returns in Saudi Arabia either monthly or quarterly, depending on their annual turnover.

Even if a taxable person has no transactions during a tax period, they are still required to submit a “Nil” return for that time period.

Types of VAT returns in Saudi Arabia

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KSA VAT involves the filing of VAT returns for a particular tax period, which may be either monthly or quarterly.

Monthly VAT returns

Monthly VAT return filing is a legal requirement for companies with annual sales of over SAR 40 million.

Between the first and the last day of the month after the conclusion of the tax period, the taxpayers must submit their monthly VAT returns. Taxpayers must submit their March VAT returns between April 1 and April 30, for instance.

Quarterly VAT returns

Companies with yearly sales of SAR 40 million or less can file quarterly tax returns.

The first and last days of the month after the end of the quarter are when taxpayers can submit their quarterly VAT returns.

For instance, taxpayers must submit their VAT returns between January 1 and January 31, for the quarter from October to December.

What Indians should know about “expat tax” in Saudi Arabia?

https://arabianaccess.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2023/05/What-Indians-should-know-about-expat-tax-in-Saudi-Arabia.jpg

Are you an Indian expat operating a business in Saudi Arabia and seeking VAT returns to reduce your tax obligations?

Seeking a  nearby tax accountant in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia?

The Saudi government imposes an “expat levy” on all foreign employees and their families living in Saudi Arabia. Foreigners working in Saudi Arabia are subject to a flat tax rate of 20% on their earnings. As an Indian working in Saudi Arabia, you may be subject to this expat tax.

However, the Saudi Arabian government does provide several exemptions and discounts for expatriates. In addition, you may be eligible for a tax-free personal allowance, which is currently set at SAR 18,750 per year.

Furthermore, certain expenses related to your job, such as housing and school costs, may be tax deductible.

For the purpose of correctly calculating taxes due, it’s critical to maintain precise records of all income and expenses throughout the year.

Moreover, it’s also important to keep in mind that tax laws and regulations in Saudi Arabia might change regularly. Therefore, expats should keep up with any modifications that might affect their tax obligations.

Many expats in Saudi Arabia decide to work with an expat tax advisor in Riyadh, who can offer advice on their unique tax position in order to help ensure compliance with tax rules and regulations. An experienced tax expert may guide expats through the complexities of the tax code and reduce their tax bill.

Maximizing Your Business’s VAT Return  Benefits

Businesses in Saudi Arabia can employ a variety of tactics to maximise their VAT refund benefits. Here are some pointers to get you started:

Maintain correct records – Maintaining proper records is critical for obtaining VAT refunds. Businesses should keep adequate paperwork, such as invoices and receipts, to support their refund claims.

Be careful of the deadlines – It is critical to file your VAT refund applications within the time limitations indicated to prevent losing your refund advantages.

Work with an accounting company – Collaborating with an accounting firm that has expertise dealing with Saudi Arabian companies can provide you the direction and assistance you need to get the most out of your VAT refund.

Review your business operations – It’s crucial to assess your operations to make sure you’re utilizing all of your prospects for a VAT refund. For instance, companies may be entitled for export VAT refunds if they export products or services outside of the GCC.

It’s important to remember that tax laws can be complicated, and your unique situation may affect the specific rules and regulations.

It’s always advantageous to consult with a trained tax return accountant in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia who can provide you with advice on your tax responsibilities and assist you to reduce your tax payment.

In conclusion, VAT returns may be a useful tool for Saudi Arabian companies.

By understanding VAT returns, their significance, and how to apply for them, businesses can strengthen their financial position and remain competitive. 

Reach out to a top accounting firm in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, like Arabian Access, which can provide service even as an accountant for the self-employed in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.

Get the guidance you need from us if you’re new to the subject and want to learn more about VAT returns in Saudi Arabia.

[anextravagantliar]

there is no Tethras trading company without maxima

[mysteriousbeetle]

i feel like denny o'neil did better with characters that he could take a lot of creative liberty with like with jean paul valley and azrael, where he created them and with vic sage who he pretty much reinvented. i haven't read a lot of his other stuff, so i'm not an expert or anything, but some other things i've read from him didn't stick out to me as much. not that they were especially bad or anything.

[neversetyoufree]

Ok I cackled at your dgm vnc meme — priceless 😂😂 It’s been years since I’ve read dgm I can only remember it was on hiatus forever, you do know if it’s still actually continuing? Also thank you for this blog, you have such great insight and I love reading your theory posts 👌

(The meme)

First of all, thank you!! I'm so glad you like my vnc posts :).

As for Dgm, yes, it's continuing! The giant hiatus that everyone remembers actually ended way back in 2015. It's been in more or less continuous serialization since then. It's just being serialized really slowly.

Due (I think) to Hoshino's continuing health issues impacting the speed she can work at, D.Gray-man is currently being published in a quarterly magazine. This means there are 4 new chapters per year (in January, April, July, and October). We've gotten 28 new chapters in the past 8ish years.

However, despite this snail's pace, post-hiatus D.Gray-man is still, like, really good. The most recent chapter as of writing this, 247, is genuinely one of my all time favs. And the art is utterly gorgeous!

The very newest chapters can be harder to find, but if you're interested, I know that everything up to the most recent chapter is on this manga site. (Though I've never opened that site on a device without adblock, so I'm not sure how safe it is in that regard). The sad clown fandom will be happy to welcome you back :).

[hotspotcitynet]

Quarterly Taxes This September - CPA Howard Dagley SCV

Prepare For Quarterly Taxes This September With Santa Clarita’s #1 CPA! Did you know that the next quarterly tax due date in 2024 is on September 30th? If you’re a business owner or an independent contractor, it’s important to have enough money saved up for quarterly tax payments every year. If you’re not sure where to begin with your quarterly taxes, just give Howard Dagley, CPA a call today.…

[madisonellie1]

VAT Flat Rate

At Account-Ease, we demystify and help our clients, businesses, to conform to the provisions of the VAT Flat Rate scheme and the UK Gov VAT return. Irrespective of the kind it is whether a quarterly VAT return or even managing with monthly VAT returns, we explain the same to the clients. Tutorial on how to complete a VAT return an example of a fully completed VAT return proves that you have explained this process adequately. Here at Flat Rate VAT Calculator, we harness the most effective software for VAT returns Flat Rate VAT, to enable you determine your flat rate VAT appropriately. It is important to comprehend how flat rate percentages work more so when implementing VAT on digital services. By using Account-Ease, one not only gets to appreciate the benefits of being VAT registered but also does not get fined with the penalty for late filing of VAT return as well as the VAT late payment penalty. We make sure our VAT accountants avoid any problems with regard to delayed VAT payments. We make it our responsibility to make sure your VAT returns are submitted in time to avoid penalties while keeping your business on schedule. That’s right, let the lenient experts of Ease manage your VAT properly so that you can handle what is most important—your business.

[s0dium]

YOU'RE A PERVERT!!!

/ˈpərˌvərt/

a person whose sexual behavior is regarded as abnormal and lewd

Synopsis: How perverted are JJK men? What are their perverted tendencies?

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, Choso Warnings: Voyeurism, Gojo uses a vibrator on you in public, cockwarming, fantasizing, public sex, dub-con, male masturbation, mating press, begging, blindfolding and restraining, breeding

Gojo Satoru

7/10 on the pervert scale

This man is full of kinks and thinks about sex quite often.

His kinks aren't necessarily abnormal but he can be obsessive

Has sniffed your panties and used them to jack off

A shameless pervert

Would be into blindfolding

The rich man he would invest in some toys and is a fiend with them

"Shit." You mumble under your breath, biting your lip to prevent any more sounds from bubbling up.

As you sit in the glossy, high-ceilinged conference room surrounded by the austere faces of the Jujutsu Society high-ups, you keep your head down, staring desperately at the floor as the toy inside you buzzes against your clit and your gspot. It's fucking unbearable. Across the table, Gojo sits, the picture of nonchalance with his trademark blindfold, his lips curving into a barely-there smirk that only you can decipher.

The vibrations of the toy are slow, most certainly on the lowest setting which you are almost thankful for. The sensation is like warm sunlight filtering through a window, gentle yet insistent. The dual stimulation of your clit and gspot has you practically gasping for air, it is delicious, slow, and not enough, not what your body is starting to crave. You can feel the thrum of pleasure at the tips of your fingers and toes, then spirals inward, igniting every nerve ending with a whisper of pleasure. The warmth expands, filling you to the brim, making your breath hitch unexpectedly.

Around the table, the meeting drones on, a background hum to the electric thrill dancing under your skin. You shift in your seat, trying to contain the heat that Gojo’s toy stirs within you. Under the table, he is most certainly playing with the remote, circling the buttons that could at any moment lead you to your doom. How did he even get you to do this in the first place? Each brush of your clothes against your skin turns into a caress, intensifying the sensations that you desperately try to mask.

The more you squirm, the wider Gojo's smile grows, though it never reaches his eyes, which are focused intently on you, enjoying the scene he orchestrates from across the room.

Your face flushes a deeper shade of red with each passing second, a silent plea for respite mingling with the fear of being discovered. The heat pools at the pit of your stomach, waves of pleasure cascading through you in relentless pulses. You clench your hands under the table, nails digging into your palm to anchor yourself to reality, to the droning voices discussing projections and quarterly returns.

But Gojo is relentless, you can practically hear the click of the remote that speeds up the toy inside you. You immediately jolt as if you have been electrocuted and you cross your legs to try and tame the ticklish pleasure coursing through you like a tidal wave.

"Everything ok Y/n?" Someone from across the room asks, and you feel everyone's gaze turn to you.

Before you can muster up the strength to say anything, Gojo cuts in.

"Oh she's fine. Just excited to be here isn't that right?"

Geto Suguru

6/10 on the pervert scale

Geto prides himself on keeping his composure intact.

But the man has so sick fantasies roaming around in his head

Behind a kind smile and hazle eyes he is mentally tearing away your clothes and fucking you on the desk you are sitting behind

Totally acts on these thoughts. Eventually he will find a way

Doesn't really care about what others think of him, which makes him very bold

He is less of a pervert and more of a "sex lover" if that makes sense

"Stay still baby, dont want anyone getting ideas do you?" Geto coos into your ear and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop your self from moaning. Thank god you wore a long skirt today because if it was any shorter you were sure everyone would know you weren't just sitting on your boyfriend's lap. No, you where impaled on his dick.

You glance around, your cheeks heating up as you catch a few curious stares from nearby moviegoers. Geto seems unfazed, his focus calmly fixed on the screen ahead. You can feel your body instinctively squeeze around his length, desperately yearning for friction, but two big hands keep you secured on his lap preventing you from moving.

Geto's presence is both arousing and disconcerting as you try to focus on the movie, hyper-aware of every shift and breath. As the room darkens with the film's start, you attempt to blend into the dim anonymity, hoping the engulfing shadows hide your flushed face and the flutter in your chest.

Suddenly, Geto slightly bucks into you, so his fat tip presses against the part of you that you only dream about reaching with your fingers. As the waves of pleasure gently cascade through you, you press your lips tightly together, restraining any sound that threatens to escape. You force yourself to remain utterly still, despite the overwhelming sensations of his large member that tempt you to move. The restraint heightens every tingling sensation, each pulse becoming more pronounced, more insistent. Your fingers curl into the fabric of your skirt beneath you, gripping tightly as you focus on the subtlest of movements—a breath, a slight shift—that could betray the intensity of your experience. The stillness becomes a challenge, a game of control where every fiber of your being is acutely aware, and every small victory in maintaining composure amplifies the pleasure silently swirling within.

"Doing so well baby, you sure you can keep this up?" Geto mummurs into your ear, nibbling on the skin of your lobe.

Choso

7/10 and for very good reason

Listen, the man has never experienced intimacy before.

So when he experiences sex for the first time, oh boy, choso is down for the count

he wants to try it all, do it all with you, to you

He's the type to think about stealing your panties or is tempted to look up your skirt but reprimands himself for it

"Come on baby just keep your legs on my shoulders. Can you do that for me?" Choso's breath is hot against your ear. "F-fuck please" he says through a groan. If you weren't so fucked out of your mind you would think that he was actually begging. And you were right. Choso swears his isn't a whimpering man but here he is, voice cracking from the vice grip your cunt  

You are too dumb to reply, only spurting outcries and whines about how good he was fucking you. Choso snapped his hips so fast that everything seemed like a dream, the bed was shaking immensely with the headboard banging on the wall and you were losing your mind from the friction of his dick against your walls. How long have you been in this mating press? How many times have you cummed? How many times has he cummed in you?

"Wanna fuck you every day,"  he grunts out, pumping into you, the length and level of his arousal brutal. "fuck fuck fuck," Choso swears, as he brings a hand to the back of your head and presses your lips onto his. Your so dazed you practically drool into the kiss, letting him entangle his tongue with yours until spit smeared on either side of your lips. He doesn’t slow the movement for a second as he kisses you, giving you full, hard thrusts, your breasts bouncing from the brutality.

Suddenly, it hits you. Like an ignition of fire your brain goes white and you feel yourself ascend to euphoria.

“You gonna cum baby?" he coos into your hear, pressing light kisses on the hollow of your neck. "fuck, cum for me baby, please, cum on me."  Choso's hand flew between your bodies to rapidly rub your clit back and forth, hurtling you towards your orgasm. Your pussy tightens so hard around his cock that he nearly has to stop his thrusts. Your mouth grows lax as you feel yourself splitting in two, coming with his cock buried deep inside you. 

“That’s it,” He fucks you through your orgasm, pouring every ounce of his strength into chasing his own high. His thrusts became sloppy, hips stuttering before he stilled his hips flushed against yours, burying himself in your creamy cunny.

“Fuck fuck fuck FUCK!”

Sukuna Ryomen

This is difficult, sukuna is not much of a pervert as he is a sadist.

So on the sadist scale, he is a 10/10 and the correlation with pervertedness would also be a 10/10 because of the wild things he does to you

He just loves to see you embarrassed and degraded. If that means fucking you in public so be it. If that means cumming on your panties and making you wear them so bit it

There isnt much he isnt open to (unfortunately)

You feel dizzy.

The soft fabric presses gently against your eyelids, urging them to remain closed. With your sight stolen away, your world narrows, funneling your awareness to the heightened sensations that begin to bloom from your core.

You whine at the feeling, squirming at the sensation of sukuna's fingers massaging your gspot. His pace his maddening, every curl of his fingers is so slow and exact, so much so your muscles tremble from the pleasure.

"Faster, faster please" you mewl, and you don't even need sight to know that there is a devilish grin on Sukuna's tattooed face.

"You feel good dont you? Poor thing." Sukuna chuckles.

The material encircling your wrists is smooth, almost silky, tying your hands behind you leaving them free to roam but only so far. As the pleasure builds, coiling tightly within you, the lack of sight only deepens the mystery and intensity of each contact, each sensation. You're adrift in a sea of touch and sound, each wave crashing over you with more pleasure than the last.

"So pretty, I love it when you're desperate, god," Sukuna groans and he leans in close so you can feel his breath against your ear. "You're making me so hard baby."

Your hips buck up when you feel the pace of his fingers quicken. The fiction is delicious and his digits fill you so much better than your small ones ever could.

"Want me to fuck you?" Sukuna purrs and you desperately nod in response making him chuckle. "Look at you, of course you do."

[alienzil]

Nanny Danny

“That is a whole ass baby,” was the only thought running through Lex Luthor’s head when the scientist proudly showed him the tube containing Project KR. It was not remotely the sort of thing he would normally think and most definitely not what he had expected to be thinking the first time he saw the clone.

He’d been pleased when he’d read the reports indicating the success of KR after years of failures. Lex had poured millions of dollars and literally his own blood into ensuring a clone of the alien could be made, one that would be under his total control instead of the unknown aspirations of Superman.  He’d wanted to see the fruits of his labors personally but this…

It. No, not an it. He scrunched his tiny face and smacked his lips and…did he smirk? Was that HIS SMIRK on that baby’s face?! No. No. Babies this small didn’t smile or smirk. They passed gas and their sleep deprived and addled parents mistook it for an intelligent response. He’d heard enough inane conversations in the Lexcorp office about the various progeny of his employees to pick up on that but still. This child had Kryptonian DNA, not to mention his own contribution. Surely, he was far more advanced than the dribbling potato shaped lump of an infant whose pictures he’d been forced to smile and nod over when Mark from accounting had rudely shoved them in his face at the last quarterly budget meeting. Yes, that was definitely a smirk. His, that was his smirk.

“So as you can see its growth is well within expected parameters and we’re planning to start phase one of accelerating the maturation process tomorrow once the testing is do-”

“Take him out.”

“Sir? The testing can all be accomplished while it remains in the tube. There’s no need to-”

“I said, take him out. The project is cancelled.”

“What?! Mr. Luthor you can’t!”

“I think you’ll find I can. Now get me my son.”

*****

Two years later

“Call them again”

“Sir, I’ve called them seven times. They won’t answer.”

“Then call another agency!”

“There isn’t another agency, Sir”

Lex glared at his assistant who stared back at him impassively. Mercy stood by the door staring off into the distance and pretending she didn’t notice him being bested by his own secretary.

He stopped himself from shouting again and took a deep breath before asking, “Then what, exactly, do you propose I do Mrs. Anderson? Adjust my entire schedule around naptimes? Find a toddler size lab coat and safety goggles and bring my son with me to tour the new clean energy project on Thursday? Perhaps buy a tiny business suit while I’m at it for the next board meeting?”

“I’m not suggesting anything of the sort, Mr. Luthor. I’m telling you that no childcare agency in Metropolis will return my calls anymore. Most won’t even answer.  You’ve gone through 27 nannies in the last 3 months. You need someone better suited to your son’s…special needs.”

Lex snorted. “Special needs might be a bit of understatement. He can lift a car over his head and his favorite word right now is No.”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Thank you for…clarifying the situation, Marjorie. If there’s nothing else, you can leave.”

His secretary didn’t move. She looked at him like she was waiting for something and now that he was paying attention, he saw she was holding a file.  “Did you have a suggestion?”

Looking pleased with herself she responded, “Actually, yes, I did.”

“Well?”

She set the file on his desk and flipped it open. He looked down at the first page and raised an eyebrow, “What am I looking at here?”

“This,” she responded pulling out the top set of papers and spreading them out, “is the employee file and background check for Daniel J. Fenton, an intern that started in our engineering department about 4 months ago. He has one sibling, two parents and several close friends he regularly meets with. His current supervisor has nothing but good things to say about him and reports he gets along well with all his coworkers.”

She set out the next set of papers, neatly arranging them on the desk to be easily seen. “These are newspaper articles and screenshots of social media posts regarding a small town vigilante locally known as Phantom. The same small town, Mr. Fenton is from coincidentally. Also coincidentally, Phantom made his first appearance only a few weeks after Mr. Fenton was involved in a minor accident in his parent’s home laboratory when he was 14, the medical records for the incident are included.”

“Hmm,” Lex said observing several photos of Phantom and a younger Fenton arranged in order of similar poses and facial expressions and printed out side by side.

“Finally,” she said handing him the last set of papers directly, “this would be a report from the lab Mr. Fenton works in from an incident that happened yesterday. A test with a new protype went wrong and started a fire. Everyone evacuated per protocol when the alarms went off but one of the other interns was working on a programming issue off to the side of the lab while wearing headphones and didn’t hear the alarm or notice the fire. Mr. Fenton noticed his absence and returned to the lab to get him out.” She stopped talking and let him look at the last several pages in the file, a series of photographs of the lab.

“Is this ice?”

“Yes, it is. It’s several inches thick and covers half of the lab. It completely put out the fire leaving minimal damage.”

“This machine was moved?”

“It was. It was very close to the flames and would have required replacement if exposed to extreme heat or cold. That particular piece of equipment also weighs several thousand pounds and was bolted to the floor.”

Lex read through everything in detail then clasped his hands under his chin and stared at the photo of Daniel Fenton for several moments before turning back to his waiting secretary.

“Have HR send Mr. Fenton up. I’d like to offer him a promotion.”

[disruptiveempathy]

In fact, the international organizations' return policy in Bosnia went through several distinct phases. In the early post-war phase (1995-1999), attempts to facilitate returns were either half-hearted or unsuccessful, and were met with strong ultra-nationalist resistance. The latter included a set of policies designed to solidify the effects of ethnic cleansing, such as the refusal to implement property laws, incitement of riots against returnees, open discrimination in judicial systems and employment, and promotion of ethnically intolerant school curricula for returnees' children. The ultra nationalists also used "hostile relocation" to create a constituency of coethnics with a vested interest in the prevention of the returns. Given this resistance, and concerns that the involvement of international troops in the return process might embroil them in renewed violence, many NATO commanders insisted they had no mandate to protect returnees from violence. As a result, expensive programs, such as the "Open Cities" initiative that was aimed at providing economic incentives for municipalities that welcomed returnees, produced few returns. Overall, nationalist resistance to returnees was successful. By January 1999, only 86,741 of the minorities had returned. As disappointment with the return rates and donor fatigue set in, Bosnia seemed destined to repeat the failure of many other post-conflict societies to reverse ethnic cleansing. However, by 1999, international organizations found the will and were able to break the resistance to returns. The UN High Representative for Bosnia introduced a set of laws to facilitate repossession of residential property. The shift in approach reframed the issue of returns from a heavily politicized policy of economic aid to municipalities in exchange of minimum tolerance to the minorities, into an ethnically-blind exercise of individual property rights and the rule of law. The Constitutional Court with the participation of foreign judges actively promoted re-integration by deciding in 2000 that the federal entities could not be considered exclusively Serb, Croat, or Bosnian Muslim. Rather, they must guarantee legal equality to all citizens, including minority returnees. The international agencies also set up a Reconstruction and Return Task Force—a specialized agency with a set of field offices meant to facilitate the return process at the local level. OHR was given the power to remove officials who were not fulfilling Dayton's commitments, including the right of return. In particular, ultra-nationalist mayors who tried to block the repossession of property were dismissed by the UN High Representative. Furthermore, the international community introduced a Property Law Implementation Plan, which allowed forced evictions of those who were illegally occupying refugees' property. Finally, international troops showed greater willingness to provide physical security for the returnees. The outcome was a success, which surprised many international administrators. Estimated minority returns in a number of municipalities rapidly increased beyond 30 percent from their pre-war presence. Encouraged by the massive returns in 2002, a senior UNHCR officer in Bosnia concluded that UNHCR will be in a position to largely meet its responsibilities in terms of refugee and displaced persons returns in a year's time.

—Djordje Stefanovic and Neophytos Loizides, from "The Way Home: Peaceful Return of Victims of Ethnic Cleansing," in Human Rights Quarterly

[vander-12]

Do Employees Get the Employee Retention Credit?

The Employee Retention Credit (ERC) has been a lifeline for businesses during and post-COVID, But what about employees? Do they receive any benefits from this tax credit? In this article, we’ll explore the Employee Retention Credit and determine whether employees are eligible for its benefits. Understanding the Employee Retention Credit The Employee Retention Credit is a provision introduced by…

[science-hoes]

Daylight: Month Two

Michael Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical medical descriptions, mentions of child loss, Robby’s arm tats

Chapters: Month One, Month Two,Month Three, Month Four

Description: Robby and the reader enjoy domestic bliss and the annoyances of pregnancy, but a patient case that hits close to home wedges between them.

Michael Robinavitch Masterlist

—————

The thick smell of bacon lured you awake before your alarm clock ever went off. When you opened your eyes, darkness still blanketed the bedroom. No crack of light stretching between the blackout curtains just yet. Only the illumination of the alarm clock on Robby’s side of the bed gave you an indication of the time. 4:18am.

You already knew Robby was out of bed aside from the obvious aroma and sounds coming from the kitchen. He usually had you tucked into his side, your head resting on his shoulder, his arm snug around your waist. His absence left you feeling incomplete…but you had the whole bed to yourself. You sprawled your limbs out across the mattress, mirroring a starfish. Your eyes fell heavy again, content with a smile, ready to sleep for two more hours before your alarm.

But the bacon smelled so good.

Like a zombie, possessed by an unknown virus, you sat up in bed. Your legs swung off the mattress, not even taking a moment to stretch. Before you could evaluate the pros and cons of abandoning the empty bed that you rarely get to have to yourself, your feet padded across the wooden floor, shuffling until they hit the cold tile of the kitchen. Damn. The baby must really want some bacon.

In the low glow of the light above the stove, Robby was searing the final batch of bacon on a sizzling pan. Dressed in only gray sweatpants with his glasses perched on the sharp bridge of his nose. Black ink slithered around his biceps, Memento Mori and Amor Fati, his constant reminders of the fragility of life. His hands worked diligently, ridges of veins and tendons competing against each other as he flipped over the strips of bacon with a regular fork.

A splatter of burning fat made a beeline for his broad chest, landing on the bare skin.

“Ah, fuck.” He hissed, recoiling at the brand it made on his flesh.

You giggled, alerting him of your presence. “You know, you’re a hypocrite.” You teased.

Robby raised an eyebrow but smiled nonetheless at your presence. “How’s that?” He asked.

“Always grumbling about patients who put themselves in ridiculous situations that get them hurt.” You explained, then gestured towards him. “Yet here you are, cooking bacon with a fork and no shirt.”

Your boyfriend chuckled, returning his focus back to the crisping strips of meat in front of him. “Do as I say, not as I do.” He defended.

You walked up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist, your hands clasping on his warm, toned abdomen. You peppered kisses on his back, catching the freckles with your lips. “Why are you up so early?” You asked.

Robby let out an exasperated sigh, already feeling the weight of his shift on his shoulders. “Quarterly chiefs meeting at six.” He answered.

Your cheek pressed against his spine as you moved your hands to his waist, massaging the skin there. “Couldn’t be a Zoom meeting?”

He chuckled insincerely. “Oh, no. Gloria likes to do her berating in person.” He said as he began to fish out the perfectly crispy strips and place them on the plate next to the stove.

“Humiliation kink?”

“I think it’s more of a voyeurism thing.”

Shared laughter filled the air, the most familiar sound of the kitchen in your home aside from the Eagles on vinyl and medical news podcasts.

Robby clicked off the stove after removing the final piece of bacon from the pan. “You know, I’m still not on board with the whole bacon thing.” He mumbled.

You shrugged, snatching a piece from the plate and taking a bite. “It’s only a problem if you undercook it. Did you?” You teased.

Just like the day you found out you were pregnant, he gave you an offended look. “Of course not. I don’t undercook my food. Ever.” He jabbed a finger softly at your shoulder.

“Besides. It’s what the baby wants. Not me. Who am I to say no?” You added.

Robby peered over his glasses to look you in the eyes. Gosh, you loved that stern, sexy professor glare he always gave you. “The baby should want eggs instead. Safer and good source of protein.” He lectured and pointed over to the plate of yellow fluff on the other counter that he made before you woke up.

Once you made eye contact with the scrambled eggs and its smell connected with your olfactory nerve, your mouth watered mid-bacon crunch, and not in the good way. Immediately, you sprinted to the bathroom, making it just in time to puke your guts out. Robby wasn’t far behind, and he pulled your hair out of your face as your body reeled from the very smell of eggs. It didn’t last for long, just a few seconds, and when the nausea subsided, you slouched back into his embrace.

“See. The baby is in charge.” You said with a small giggle, wiping the corner of your mouth with the sleeve of your (Robby’s) sweatshirt that you slept in.

Robby pressed a kiss to the back of your head, cradling you in his lap. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was as stubborn as his mom.” He teased, throwing in his guess at the baby’s gender.

You scoffed, reaching behind you to poke his stomach, making him flinch at the ticklish sensation. “She’s as stubborn as her dad.” You corrected, slating your guess as well.

He held you in his embrace for another moment before tilting your head to look up at him. His glasses were askew now, hair still in disarray from sleep. He traced his thumb across your cheek, wiping away a tear that formed while you threw up. “Are you gonna be okay to go to work by yourself?” He asked.

Your natural reaction would have been to roll your eyes at your boyfriend’s silly question. Of course you could get to work by yourself. You managed to do it every day before moving in with him several months ago. The drive was short, the parking garage was safe. Safe-ish anyway. But you could see the worry in his eyes. The same look he gave you every time that he knew he wasn’t going to be there to protect you. That look had been more frequent over the last month. But this was the first morning that he couldn’t take you to work with him.

You tilted your head into his touch, letting his hand hold your weight. “I’ll be fine. I’ll text when I leave here.” You promised.

“And when you get there.” He added.

A small laugh left your chest through your nose. “You’ll see me when I’m there.” You reminded him.

Robby pressed his bottom lip tightly against his top lip, his characteristic expression of stress. “I know. I just…if I’m with a patient. I want to know exactly when you’re safely inside.” He explained.

You wanted to joke that there was hardly a difference in crime rate between the inside and outside of the Pitt. But his eyes, fuck, those gorgeous, earthy brown eyes were a stargate to his vulnerability. Instead, you nodded. “Okay, I will.”

The laugh lines around his eyes deepened as his cheeks rose with a smile. “Thank you.” He said before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, his glasses bumping against your nasal bone as he did.

You scrunched your nose as you smiled into the kiss. “I just threw up. You still wanna kiss me?” You asked.

Robby chuckled and secured you tightly in his arms before standing up, eliciting snaps, crackles, and pops from his ancient joints. But he still moved with ease and strength as he carried you back to bed. “Unfortunately, my love, your vomit is not the worst thing to ever get in my mouth.” He replied.

You laughed as he delicately deposited your body onto the soft mattress. “Gross.” You deadpanned, snuggling back under the covers.

He sat on the edge of the bed, arranging the blankets to cocoon your frame. “When you’ve been an ER doc for twenty years, then you can come talk to me.” He warned, leaning over to give you one last kiss before rising.

You smirked as he turned to walk away. “Yeah, I’ll make sure to stop by your grave that day and tell you all about it.”

Robby stopped in his tracks, stunned, then he hunched over with an explosion of laughter. He turned and launched onto the bed, tackling you, carefully all the while, and pressed a scratchy kiss on your cheek. “Oh, I’ll be here for another twenty five years. Can’t get rid of me that easy.” Another kiss to your giggling mouth. “I’m gonna die in the Pitt anyway.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and your cheeks ached from smiling and his bearded kisses. “I thought you and Jack were gonna hold hands and jump off the roof together.” You teased.

Robby nodded. “Yep, that’s the plan.” He agreed.

“Then you’ll die in front of the Pitt. Not in the Pitt.”

An eye roll. “Grammar police.”

A smirk. “Actually, it’s semantics police.”

He rolled off your body and hopped off the bed. “Okay, that’s enough of you for one morning.” He joked, but turned as he made it to the doorway. “I’ll make you a smoothie and put it in the fridge to grab before you leave. Prenatal vitamins will be on the counter with a water bottle. And I’ll handle the eggs.” He said.

You craned your neck towards the door to catch a glimpse of his silhouette framed by the distant light of the kitchen. “You’re doing so much for me. I don’t know how to ever repay you.” You mused out loud.

Although you couldn’t see it in the darkness, you knew Robby smiled. “You’re giving me a baby. I’m forever indebted to you.” He countered. “Get some rest. Enjoy having the whole bed to yourself.” You could practically hear him wink before he walked back to the kitchen.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you closed your eyes. You felt so loved, so happy, so…at peace.

…

The peace didn’t last for long. You had texted Robby the moment you walked through the doors of the Pitt, just like you promised. But you received no confirmation that he received it. He had been elbows deep in a gunshot victim from the moment he stepped out of that quarterly meeting. You could see him towering over the other providers in Trauma One, commanding the room with a respected power.

You leaned against one of the Hub desks, looking toward Dana. “They need any help in there?” You asked.

Dana shook her head, desk phone against her ear. “No, we’ll need you out here. MVC, pregnant woman coming in. They think she’s preeclampsic and in active labor.” She answered. “We’ll need Trauma Two.”

You nodded and hustled to the ambulance bay, snatching a yellow gown on your way. McKay met you outside and tied the back of your gown, then you tied hers. “Preeclampsia is some scary shit.” She murmured. “Happened to me with Harrison.”

“Is she full term?” You questioned, moving your ponytail out from the neck of the gown where it had been tucked in.

“They didn’t say. I already paged NICU.”

The sound of sirens loomed closer, and the rig turned the corner, thundering towards the bay. A swarm of more nurses and residents appeared to help unload the patient. Blood covered her hands and legs, and one arm draped over her swollen abdomen, bent out of shape.

As you moved along the gurney, heeding the less-than-stellar vitals being screamed in your ear, the woman reached out to you in the chaos.

“Please, save my baby. Please.” The woman on the gurney begged you, clutching your yellow gown with her bloodied hand, leaving its mark on the sheer material.

You didn’t know why she said it to you. Maybe because you were a woman. Maybe because you were around her age. Maybe she had a sixth sense and knew you were pregnant, too. A few months ago, you wouldn’t have given much thought to her words and proceeded with the most logical treatment. But the desperation in her voice struck a chord with you.

You followed the team into Trauma Two, and within seconds, Robby popped in from the adjacent room. McKay read out her vitals, and you placed the fetal heart monitor over her belly. Medicines were ordered to fix the blood pressure and stop the labor, but nothing seemed to work. The fetal heart rate was dropping, the woman began to have intense vaginal bleeding. Placental abruption was taking its course. Finally, a cold statement cut through the madness that sent you into a spiral:

“Start putting efforts towards the mother. She’s got a better chance.” The order came from Robby’s mouth.

You froze and stared at him. “No, she said she wants to save her baby.” You said.

Robby’s eyes met yours for just a moment, an indecipherable flicker in them, before continuing to work with his hands to stop the bleeding. “Her mental state was altered, she can’t make that decision.” He replied firmly.

In an incredibly rare stroke of defiance, you countered with: “Did you do a neuro eval?” Robby didn’t look at you and didn’t stop working. No answer. “No? That’s what I thought.”

Robby barked orders for more units of blood. The beeping of the fetal monitor began to drop lower and lower. “You need to back down. You are the resident.” He hissed.

The tension in the room was heavy, every other nurse and doctor eyeing each other as they all worked in tandem to stabilize the patient from Robby’s instruction. “She expressed her wishes to me. She told me what she wanted. She had the capacity to make the decision, and her autonomy should be-“ You continued.

But Robby cut you off with, “I don’t need a fucking lecture in bioethics. We are going to save who we can. This is not a cadaver lab. If you do not follow my explicit instructions, you will be reprimanded.”

His words had a sharpness that cut you deep. He had never used that tone with you before, especially in front of others. McKay finally stepped in between the two of you, hoping to get you a few steps away from each other. You decided to yield to his power, but there was an unmistakable sense of loss as the baby’s heartbeat dropped lower.

And lower.

And lower.

Until there was nothing.

…

After the patient stabilized and was sent upstairs for surgery, Robby took the woman’s husband to the family room and explained the situation. You shucked your PPE off and went to get a drink of water from the lounge.

Guilt hung in your chest as you remembered the woman’s plea before she lost consciousness. She was going to wake up without her baby. The nursery had likely been finished, the first round of toys and diapers stacked in a corner, blankets with a monogrammed name hanging over the crib.

Angry tears dripped down your cheeks. You heard the door of the family room close, muffled by the quiet of the doctors lounge. You watched through the small window and saw Robby rub the back of his neck anxiously. His eyes scanned the entire department, and they finally settled at the sight of you through the window. Your breath hitched, and suddenly you were a baby deer in the path of a lion.

Robby walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. You stood, shaking your head. “We’re not doing this right now.” You said.

He crossed his arms, blocking your path to the door. “Oh, yes ma’am, we are.” His voice was patronizing, and his eyes had a darkness to them that you didn’t recognize. “That little show in there? That won’t fly.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, taking a step closer to him. “‘That little show’ was advocating for the patient’s wishes. Same as a DNR.” You argued.

Robby huffed, almost a laugh. “A DNR is an official document made when a patient has the capacity to do so. That patient, who clearly did not have the mental capacity to make decisions, told only you. And even so, the baby was crashing too fast to even try and deliver.” He explained.

You felt more tears storm down your face. “She is going wake up without her baby.” You hissed.

He pulled his lips into a thin line. “Yes. But at least she is going to wake up.” He replied.

He just didn’t get it. If you had stayed any longer, you were going to start screaming words that you’d regret. You pushed past him and walked out of the lounge, swiping your tears away with the palm of your hand.

…

For the rest of the day, Robby tried to get you alone, but you turned your back to him and jumped into a patient case every time. It was only when the night shift began to trickle in that he was successful in cornering you.

“Are you ready to go home?” He asked, calm and collected like nothing happened.

You nodded. “Yeah. I’ll follow you.” You replied, reminding him that you drove separately.

After collecting your things from the lounge, you both headed to the parking garage. Even though the walk was silent, Robby kept a protective hand on your lower back as you crossed the street and again when you climbed the concrete stairs. You followed his navy Ford F150 all the way back to your home, refusing to turn the music on. You felt like you didn’t deserve the distraction.

Once home, you began to tidy the house. Doing anything to keep your mind and hands busy. Robby recognized it immediately. Although it wasn’t a harmful anxiety escape, he didn’t want you losing your mind. Without a word, he went back out to the garage, disappearing for a few moments and returned. He sat on the couch, watching you wipe down the coffee table.

“Will you sit down with me for a second?” He asked.

You didn’t look up. “I need to clean up.” You responded in a tone that would make a robot jealous.

Robby sighed and reached his hand out to grasp your forearm. “Please, love.” He begged.

You stopped moving. Still refusing to meet his gaze, you placed the microfiber towel down and moved toward him. He guided you into his lap, pressing your back against his chest. His breathing was warm on the nape of your neck as he laid his head to rest on your shoulder.

“I was scared today.” He whispered. “That woman. She’s the same age as you. She was pregnant. All I could see was you. Even though you were standing there next to me. I couldn’t separate you from her.”

You turned your head, pushing his head off your shoulder with your nose, so that you could look him in the eyes. “Scared?” You questioned.

“I was scared I couldn’t protect you. Scared I couldn’t protect our baby.” He said, and you could hear his voice tremble as he fought back tears. “Fuck, I still am scared. Her husband, he…he cried so much. Even when I told her that she was okay, he couldn’t stop saying how he should’ve been there to keep her and the baby safe…”

Robby’s face was burning red, and a single tear fell from his eyes. You reached up to place your hands on either side of his face. “Michael…” You pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Honey, you did everything right. I was wrong to challenge you like that. It got personal for me.” You confessed.

He shook his head, clenching his eyes shut as more tears fell. “You were a good patient advocate. I was being selfish. Maybe we could have saved the baby. I don’t know.”

You pressed your forehead against his, trying to ground him. “Don’t do that to yourself. You made the right judgement call, even considering the bioethics. If you’d listened to me, they would have both died.” You replied.

Robby didn’t make another attempt. He just sat in silence as his tears dried, holding you close to him. One of his large hands rubbed your belly, the baby bump still unnoticeable. “I love you.” He whispered. The words were not a punctuation to the hours-long argument. They were a sacred prayer.

You leaned into his embrace, nestling against the warmth his body radiated. “I love you more.” You replied, a small smile on your lips, knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist topping your answer.

Like a moth to a flame, he matched your mild smile and answered with, “I love you most.” Then he shifted, reaching his hand into the pocket of his navy hoodie.

You shook your head, brushing your nose against his in an Inuit kiss. “Can’t prove it.” You teased.

Robby removed his hand from his pocket and raised it near your face. A sparkle caught your eye, and you leaned away to inspect it. In his hand was a ring. Simple gold band with a large, oval cut diamond. “Wanna bet?” He said, the slyest smirk on his lips.

You couldn’t find the words to speak. Butterflies filled your stomach, surely invading your baby’s personal space. His name left your lips in a whisper.

“We live together. We’re having a baby. Might as well make it legally official.” He said.

“Michael, I-” Your voice trembled. “I want to. I really do. But I don’t want you to feel compelled to do this because of the baby. If you aren’t ready for this, then you don’t have to rush it.”

Robby chuckled, shaking his head. “This has been in my toolbox in the garage for four months.”

A small, hopeful smile found its way to your lips. “Really?” You breathed.

“I was waiting for our anniversary. But today, after everything that happened…I knew I couldn’t wait any longer.” He explained.

The pure joy bubbling in your chest stunned you into silence. Robby reached to his neck, starting to rub his nape anxiously. “I know I probably should have made it a little nicer. I could’ve changed out of scrubs first, maybe shower-”

His rambling was silenced when you threw your arms around his neck, squeezing tightly. He laughed and returned the gesture, standing up straight, your feet dangling in the air as he held you in his embrace.

“It’s perfect.” You whispered. “It’s us.”

Robby pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow. “So that’s a yes?”

“It’s a ‘fucking finally’ yes.” You answered.

[rika-mmendmethings]

Interdimensional Epiphany l Rafayel

CHAPTER 1

Chapter 2

Summary: A fortnight of compensated leave from your company was supposed to be a rejuvenating experience. Things take an unexpected turn when Rafayel, your choice of ML, starts becoming self-aware. His love knows no bounds, not even interdimensional ones.

Warning(s): Subject to change as we progress further into the story. For the prologue, currently none. Though story has major character deaths, subdued manipulation, heavy angst with a happy(?) ending, slight yandere themes, fluff, did I mention angst?

Word count: 1.9k

Playlist coming soon.

Notes: This series is something I wrote after being inspired by Error 404 by @ittybittyfanblog. It circles around the idea of a self-aware Rafayel and the worlds he'd cross to be with the reader. This series is my spin on what could've happened with the deleted Reddit user and their self-aware Rafayel from chapter four of Error 404. However, keep in mind the plotline is entirely different. Lmk if y'all want me to add you in the tag list for this.

The multiple keys in your keychain jingled as you hurried to unlock the door to your apartment. Once inside, with the door securely shut behind you, you let out a triumphant whoop and began dancing in celebration. A wide grin spread across your face as you kicked off your heels, nearly tripping over your own feet as you made your way to your couch. When your back hit the soft plush you exhaled a euphoric sigh, feeling an overwhelming rush of dopamine fill your senses.

The reason for your happiness? A whole sum of two weeks granted as compensatory leave to your department. You and your colleagues had been working your butts off the entire march. With the financial year coming to an end, your procrastination was also forced to come to an end as you stayed up for hours preparing yearly, monthly, quarterly, and god knows how many more reports. But alas, your efforts paid off and the higher-ups were impressed by your teamwork and immaculate results and awarded your entire department a two-week reprieve.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to worry about the work that would inevitably pile up upon your return. All you knew was that in the present moment, you were practically given a corporate boon and god forbid if you don’t live it up to the fullest. You squealed again, kicking your legs like an ecstatic newborn. You stood up, stretching your arms above your head before skipping to the kitchen.

As you poured yourself a glass of juice and grabbed some leftover takeout, your mind wandered to how your life might begin to mend itself again. Not that it had ever been truly broken, but the past month had been hard enough to make you feel as though you were constantly on the edge. You loosened your tie and sank back onto the couch, blissfully relaxed, your legs casually draped over the table in front of you.

March, you concluded, had been the most unlucky month of your life. The first week had started with a quarrel with your parents when they demanded you book an immediate flight and come to your hometown immediately. You understood their feelings — they hadn’t seen their only daughter in five years — but you couldn’t just abandon everything and disappear. You had responsibilities, and no matter how much you missed your mom’s homemade pickles or your dad’s clueless grocery runs, you couldn’t drop everything for a visit. That’s what you told them, but it only led to their anger.

The second week of March brought more frustration when you were handed the work of an employee who had left the company abruptly. Internally cursing him and taking an oath to meet him in hell, you ended up shouldering his share of projects as well.

In the third week, an issue with your Sodexo meal card arose, and while you reported it to your manager, you knew it wasn’t going to be a priority for him, considering the mountain of tasks he already had to juggle at year-end.

But the final week of March truly tested your patience. In addition to the looming deadlines, your boyfriend of two years, Tyler, was giving you a migraine. He knew how packed your schedule was and had seen how much the month had already drained you, yet he still managed to pick fights over matters you thought had been long settled.

Love and Deepspace.

When you and Tyler had first committed to each other, you had sat him down and clearly explained how your love for otome games wouldn’t interfere with your relationship. What you sought in fiction was vastly different from what you needed in real life. As a self-identified "men-are-disgusting" type, you had always trusted your parents to help you understand the difference between right and wrong, and to guide you toward the right kind of person. When Tyler came into your life, he seemed to check all the boxes: good-looking, smart, organized, and a great companion. So you took a chance on love.

But over the past few months, things had taken a turn for the worse. You began to notice how inconsiderate Tyler could be toward your feelings, and how little effort he seemed to put into the relationship. On top of that, he began to criticize you for being a “merch-collecting freak” and for not knowing how to invest your money. The irony wasn’t lost on you, especially since the only "merch" you collected were plushies and a few rare 4-star banner posters — things you bought with your hard-earned money, and that you had every right to spend as you pleased. You dismissed his behavior for a while, but it all came to a head one day when you came home to find him tearing up your posters in a fit of spite.

You confronted him, demanding to know why he had destroyed your things, and his response —“You don’t need otome games when you have me”— was the breaking point. In that moment, you realized that you couldn’t even keep your own interests around him without facing ridicule. That day, you made a wise decision. You slapped him across the face and, with the help of some neighbors, you kicked him out of your apartment, officially ending the relationship once and for all.

You didn’t regret your decision one bit. Aside from the moments with him that were genuinely worth feeling sad about, you surprisingly didn’t miss him much either. It seemed that, subconsciously, you had been prepared to leave him the moment his behavior began to shift. Setting your empty utensils aside, you sprawled out on your stomach, unlocked your phone, and opened the app that had, in many ways, saved you from what could have developed into a toxic relationship.

“Some long for longevity… before fading to dust. Some long for eternal sleep…” you belted out the theme song, singing at the top of your lungs as you pressed enter. You recited aloud the random information on the white loading display: “Lemuria is an ancient, marine civilization recorded in legends. Its unique, advanced technologies are difficult to use.” You paused mid-sentence, tilting your head slightly as a thought struck you. “Does that mean Lemuria’s technologies would be far more advanced than ours if it actually existed? I’ll have to ask Reddit later.”

The game opens with a silver-haired man rubbing his chin in thought, donning a brown sweater and black slacks. It seems Sylus has decided to greet you today. He’s recently become your main choice after Rafayel in the game, but the others hold a special place in your heart as well, so you always ensure to include them when selecting who you want to meet at Destiny Café. You quickly navigate to the agenda to claim your night-login stamina before it expires. However, when you return, you’re met with a ‘failed to connect. Retry or return to login’ pop-up. You press ‘retry,’ glancing over your shoulder to check if your router’s LED lights are blinking as they should.

This time, when the game reboots and you log back in, you’re greeted by the purple-haired man who somehow manages to climb his way onto the first place among your lead choices even after new releases. You are one of those players who had been in the fandom just some time after the game released officially and Rafayel has been your choice of ML ever since, though you do get bias-wrecked by Sylus every so often. You smile, not at all bothered by the shift in characters, and admire his ‘asymmetrical romance’ outfit, paired with a big, vibrant red bow. Rafayel suddenly closes the distance between you and the screen, leaning down so that his eyes meet yours although it feels far from mere programming.

His mystical eyes are wide, holding a strange clarity, as though he’s uncovered something. His soft features are lit up with eyebrows arched and full lips drawn in a small part. He tilts his head, seeming momentarily stunned. You wait patiently, suspecting the devs may have added a new update for how characters interact with you. You would have missed it had you not been paying close attention, but you distinctly hear him whisper "beautiful," clear as day.

A soft pink blooms on your cheeks, and you flinch slightly, caught off guard by the timbre of his voice and the unexpected compliment. You wonder why the word didn’t appear in the captions but brush it off as a possible glitch. Unable to resist, you flick some stray hair away from your face and respond cheekily, “I know, right?”

You could have sworn you saw the faintest quirk of his lips as he stepped back, but then again, your brain is frazzled from overwork, and you wouldn’t trust it for opinions at this moment. You still have a daily task remaining, so you select "Quality Time" and set the timer for 30 minutes to work with him. You position your phone upright, supported by a cushion, and gather the utensils to take them to the dishwasher.

After putting your overcoat, bag, and other items in their proper places, you shake your shirt off your shoulders, deciding to freshen up for the evening. Had you been more observant, you might have noticed an unusually flustered Rafayel, his eyes fixed on you as you walked past the living room and toward your bedroom in just your bralette and pencil skirt.

When you slip out of his sight, he sets down his fountain pen and leans toward the screen once more. His iridescent irises, the color of dusk, shift around your living room, watching with a kind of unrestrained curiosity. They take in the unfamiliar world with the weight of a thousand unspoken questions, their intensity hidden behind lips that are pressed in quiet contemplation. Long, pale fingers, hesitant yet deliberate, tap softly against the unyielding glass that separates him from whatever lies beyond it.

He listens, the faint sound of your footsteps growing nearer, and in an instant, he straightens up. With a swift motion, he grabs his pen, resuming his drawing as though he had never strayed from his post. Later, he tells himself. Later, when you aren’t around, he will unravel the mystery of what this all means.

You emerge from the bathroom, hair damp from your shower, and sink into the sofa, still wearing your pajamas, a packet of chips resting on the table in front of you. His gaze drifts to you every now and then, some sort of fascination blooming in the quiet chambers of his heart for how your existence goes against everything he knows. You sometimes catch his gaze and before you start to ponder about it, he unwillingly utters words that feel like metal on his tongue — words that you’d consider entirely normal — words that would show in the captions. He clicks his tongue in distaste, not liking being pressed into speaking phrases that don’t truly belong to him — just empty lines, part of some programmed response. Yet, despite this reluctance, it doesn't stop him from continuing to steal glances at you, as if something distinct about you holds his attention despite himself.

And for the first time in months, he lets his phone beside him ring, despite the familiar caller ID—his miss bodyguard’s. The world around him — around you — seems to fade into the background, and for a fleeting moment, he is wholly, silently present in this strange, ordinary space that feels anything but ordinary.

Check out my other works if you liked this ♥

[hotspotcitynet]

2024 Quarterly Taxes Help

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[madisonellie1]

VAT Return HMRC

A VAT Return HMRC is a tax document that UK organizations enrolled for VAT should submit, regularly on a quarterly premise. It subtleties the VAT charged on deals (yield Tank) and the VAT paid on buys (input Tank). The structure ascertains the net VAT owed to HMRC or the sum to be discounted. Organizations should guarantee opportune and precise accommodation to agree with charge guidelines. The VAT Return incorporates significant figures, for example, absolute deals and buys, how much Tank owed, and any Tank reclaimable. Inability to present the profit from time can bring about punishments and interest charges. At Finex Outsourcing , we work in dealing with these entries productively, guaranteeing consistence and limiting the gamble of blunders or punishments for our clients. We offer thorough help by keeping up with precise records, planning itemized reports, and submitting gets back immediately. Our group stays refreshed with the most recent Tank guidelines and offers master counsel to streamline Tank the board. We handle all parts of the VAT Return process, permitting organizations to zero in on their center tasks without the concern of duty consistence issues.

[thestuffedalligator]

In the original The Island of Doctor Moreau, the doctor surgically turns a puma into a woman over the course of the text until in the climax of the book the puma-woman escapes and mauls Moreau to death before dying from her wounds. In the spring 2019 Literature/Film Quarterly, University of Arkansas professor Kristen Figgins wrote "In Wells’s text, the puma is thus symbolic of nature’s retribution against Moreau; she is the wild animal that resists domestication and both her pain and triumph are focal points for all of the Beast Folk as they shift from the pain of Moreau’s dominion to a return to a more natural state."

And then every American movie adaptation of The Island of Doctor Moreau has included a sexy panther-woman who Moreau variously treats as a daughter/pet/lab rat who's always perfectly obedient and demure to the doctor.

It's also a recurring trope that the doctor actively encourages her to fuck the male protagonist because of Science Reasons.

I didn't know about any of this until earlier this month and frankly "Every time the entertainment industry adapts this book the symbol of nature that cannot be tamed or domesticated by man is turned into a sexy lady who has been tamed and domesticated by man" is so on the nose it sounds like satire