#Attractive Web Solutions

[attractive-web-solutions]

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[webhostpros]

Social Networks and Forums: The Secret Weapons for Driving Massive Website Traffic

Unlocking Social Networks

Best Platforms for Engagement

Crafting Shareable Content

Leveraging Influencer Collaborations

Tapping into Forum Potential

Identifying Niche Communities

Engaging with Valuable Contributions

Building Credibility and Trust

Building credibility and trust within forum communities is essential for turning engagements into meaningful website traffic. Start by consistently providing honest, transparent information, as authenticity is highly valued in online discussions. Share personal experiences and case studies to back up your points, giving your contributions more weight. Engage respectfully, even when faced with differing opinions, as maintaining professionalism reflects positively on your reputation. Regular participation helps establish your presence, showing commitment and reliability, which are crucial for trust-building. Respond promptly to questions or feedback to demonstrate your attentiveness and willingness to help. Gradually, as users recognize your expertise and integrity, they are more inclined to seek out your website for further insights. Encourage community feedback on your contributions to refine your approach and better serve the audience's needs. By focusing on building credibility and trust, you lay a foundation for long-term relationships that drive sustained, organic traffic to your website.

[digital-arnav2019]

Website Designer in Delhi

Why Choose a Website Designer in Delhi for Your Next Project? In today’s digital world, having a professional and visually appealing website is essential for any business. Whether you are a startup, an established company, or an individual looking to build your personal brand, a well-designed website can make all the difference. Website designers in Delhi offer a unique combination of expertise,…

[websolutionproviderblog]

Enhancing Digital Success: DCUB3 is your Reliable Web Development Company in Singapore

[reasonsforhope]

"In China, a landscape architect is reimagining cities across the vast country by working with nature to combat flooding through the ‘sponge city’ concept.

Through his architecture firm Turenscape, Yu has created hundreds of projects in dozens of cities using native plants, dirt, and clever planning to absorb excess rainwater and channel it away from densely populated areas.

Flooding, especially in the two Chinese heartlands of the commercial south and the agricultural north, is becoming increasingly common, but Yu says that concrete and pipe solutions can only go so far. They’re inflexible, expensive, and require constant maintenance. According to a 2021 World Bank report, 641 of China’s 654 largest cities face regular flooding.

“There’s a misconception that if we can build a flood wall higher and higher, or if we build the dams higher and stronger, we can protect a city from flooding,�� Yu told CNN in a video call. “(We think) we can control the water… that is a mistake.”

Pictured: The Benjakitti Forest Park in Bangkok

Yu has been called the “Chinese Olmstead” referring to Frederick Law Olmstead, the designer of NYC’s Central Park. He grew up in a little farming village of 500 people in Zhejiang Province, where 36 weirs channel the waters of a creek across terraced rice paddies.

Once a year, carp would migrate upstream and Yu always looked forward to seeing them leap over the weirs.

This synthesis of man and nature is something that Turenscape projects encapsulate. These include The Nanchang Fish Tail Park, in China’s Jiangxi province, Red Ribbon Park in Qinghuandao, Hebei province, the Sanya Mangrove Park in China’s island province of Hainan, and almost a thousand others. In all cases, Yu utilizes native plants that don’t need any care to develop extremely spongey ground that absorbs excess rainfall.

Pictured: The Dong’an Wetland Park, another Turescape project in Sanya.

He often builds sponge projects on top of polluted or abandoned areas, giving his work an aspect of reclamation. The Nanchang Fish Tail Park for example was built across a 124-acre polluted former fish farm and coal ash dump site. Small islands with dawn redwoods and two types of cypress attract local wildlife to the metropolis of 6 million people.

Sanya Mangrove Park was built over an old concrete sea wall, a barren fish farm, and a nearby brownfield site to create a ‘living’ sea wall.

One hectare (2.47 acres) of Turenscape sponge land can naturally clean 800 tons of polluted water to the point that it is safe enough to swim in, and as a result, many of the sponge projects have become extremely popular with locals.

One of the reasons Yu likes these ideas over grand infrastructure projects is that they are flexible and can be deployed as needed to specific areas, creating a web of rain sponges. If a large drainage, dam, seawall, or canal is built in the wrong place, it represents a huge waste of time and money.

Pictured: A walkway leads visitors through the Nanchang Fish Tail Park.

The sponge city projects in Wuhan created by Turenscape and others cost in total around half a billion dollars less than proposed concrete ideas. Now there are over 300 sponge projects in Wuhan, including urban gardens, parks, and green spaces, all of which divert water into artificial lakes and ponds or capture it in soil which is then released more slowly into the sewer system.

Last year, The Cultural Landscape Foundation awarded Yu the $100,000 Oberlander Prize for elevating the role of design in the process of creating nature-based solutions for the public’s enjoyment and benefit."

-via Good News Network, August 15, 2024

[payblogs]

DARK SMS - DRAGON+

In today’s fast-paced digital landscape, maintaining privacy and security while communicating is more important than ever. Introducing DarkSMS, a cutting-edge virtual SMS platform designed to streamline your messaging experience without compromising your personal information. With our innovative virtual number service, users can receive SMS messages securely and anonymously, eliminating the risks associated with sharing private phone numbers. Whether you’re signing up for online services, verifying accounts, or simply looking to keep your communication confidential, DarkSMS has got you covered. 

Virtual SMS

Virtual SMS refers to the messaging service that enables users to send and receive text messages through a virtual phone number rather than a traditional mobile line. This service is particularly useful for individuals and businesses looking to maintain privacy while communicating or verifying accounts.

One of the key advantages of using virtual sms is the ability to receive SMS without revealing your personal phone number. This is especially beneficial for online transactions, sign-ups for apps, or any situation where you might need to provide a phone number but want to protect your privacy.

Furthermore, virtual numbers can be easily managed from a web-based platform, allowing users to organize and store messages effectively. Many service providers offer features such as message forwarding, where received SMS messages can be redirected to your email or other platforms, ensuring you never miss an important notification.

In addition to privacy and convenience, virtual SMS services are often cost-effective. They eliminate the need for extra SIM cards or mobile contracts, allowing users to only pay for the services they actually use. This flexibility makes virtual number services highly attractive for startups and individuals working from remote locations.

As businesses increasingly adopt digital communication strategies, integrating virtual SMS into their operations can enhance customer interaction and improve engagement through instant messaging capabilities.

Virtual Number Service

A virtual number service offers a practical solution for individuals and businesses looking to maintain privacy while receiving communications. By using a virtual number, you can receive SMS messages without exposing your personal phone number. This feature is especially useful for those engaged in online transactions, such as e-commerce, as it safeguards against unwanted spam and protects your identity.

One of the key advantages of a virtual number service is its capability to function seamlessly alongside your primary phone line. Users can receive messages from various platforms effectively, whether it's for verification purposes, two-factor authentication, or simply keeping in touch with clients. The convenience of managing multiple numbers through a single device cannot be overstated.

With options to select numbers from different geographic locations, this service caters to users looking to establish a local presence in different markets. Moreover, these numbers can be set up quickly and easily, providing instant access to receive SMS without lengthy contracts or commitments.

To optimize your experience with virtual SMS and virtual number services, consider features like call forwarding, voicemail, and the ability to choose your own number. Such functionality enhances user experience by offering flexibility in communication while maintaining professional boundaries.

Ultimately, investing in a virtual number service can significantly enhance your business's communication strategy, allowing you to receive SMS reliably while focusing on building relationships with your clients.

Receive SMS

Receiving SMS through a virtual number is a convenient service that allows users to get text messages without needing a physical SIM card. This is particularly beneficial for individuals and businesses looking for privacy or those who wish to avoid exposing their personal phone numbers.

The process is straightforward: once you obtain a virtual number through a reliable virtual number service, you can start receiving sms messages. This service is essential for various reasons, including:

  Account verification codes: Many online platforms use SMS to send verification codes. A virtual number allows you to receive these codes securely.

  Business communications: Companies can use virtual SMS to receive client inquiries or feedback without revealing their primary contact numbers.

  Privacy protection: By receiving SMS through a virtual number, users can protect their personal phone numbers from spam and unwanted solicitation.

Moreover, the get SMS feature of a virtual number service ensures that you don’t miss any important messages, even if you are on the move. Messages are often stored digitally, which means you can access them anytime and anywhere.

In summary, the ability to receive SMS through a virtual number enhances both privacy and accessibility, making it a valuable tool for users in various contexts.

Get SMS

Getting SMS messages through a virtual number service has become increasingly popular due to its convenience and versatility. Whether you need to receive texts for verification purposes or want to maintain privacy while communicating, virtual SMS provides a robust solution.

With a virtual number, you can easily get sms from anywhere in the world without needing a physical SIM card. This feature is particularly beneficial for businesses that require secure communication with clients or customers, as it ensures that sensitive information remains confidential.

Here are some advantages of using a virtual number to get SMS:

Privacy Protection: Using a virtual number helps keep your personal phone number private.

Accessibility: You can receive SMS messages on multiple devices, including tablets and laptops.

Cost-Effective: Virtual SMS services typically come with lower costs than traditional SMS plans.

Global Reach: You can get SMS messages from international numbers without incurring roaming fees.

Easy Setup: Setting up a virtual number to receive SMS is straightforward and often takes just a few minutes.

In summary, leveraging a virtual number service for SMS communication allows you to manage your messages efficiently while maintaining privacy, enhancing accessibility, and reducing costs. This is particularly useful for both personal and business communications, making it a smart choice for anyone looking to streamline their SMS functions.

[aniharas]

𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥

pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader

summary: on your first day back at spider society hq, your male colleagues are inexplicably drawn to you. your boss, miguel, seems to be affected more than anybody. surely there's an explanation and solution, but who were you to resist?

warnings: explicit language, sexual tension/content, use of pheromones (please let me know if i need to add more!)

wc: 9.6k+ oneshot

a/n: apparently there was a rumor that a body butter named Delícia Drench (hence name of the fic) attracted wolf spiders! somebody on reddit said it's because there might be two ingredients that imitate the pheromones of a female spider and it'll bring all the thirsty boy spiders to your yard. and with miguel being 50% spider, how could i resist writing? (shoutout to scarlet for the wonderful prompt!) however DISCLAIMER! these claims are unfounded, i just thought it was a fun prompt to write off of. anything i say in the fic referring to the butter is purely fictional and im just talking out of my ass. with that being said, enjoy!

Just before the sun began to rise over the city line of Earth-766’s New York, your hand shot out to slam the snooze button of your annoying alarm clock before it could even go off. The silky sheets you were laid in were far too comfortable, reluctant to release you from its dreamlike embrace, but alas, duty was calling. The holidays had come to a close, and your peaceful vacation back in your home dimension was a bliss escape away from your tiring job.

You didn’t hate your job; in fact, it was just the opposite. Since you were in middle school, you always had an unrivaled passion for chemistry, as many Spiders were. Your life before getting bitten by that spider was mainly winning science fairs, calibration rooms, and working towards your Ph.D. Even after becoming your New York’s one and only Spiderwoman, your academic pursuit never ceased, eventually landing yourself at the prestigious Alchemax. However, it was because you had secured such a high-profile job that you caught the attention of the Spider Society, in the form of its leader, Miguel. He somehow knew that you were on the path to creating a more stable version of Rapture, and because of this, he was persistent in roping you into his ranks.

At first, you had declined profusely, briskly walking away from where he had approached you in Central Park. The brisk walk eventually turned into a full-on Spider chase, although the uniqueness of his abilities seemed to distract you. The talons that protruded from his fingers that tore through metal like paper, the neon-red nature of his webs, and his fangs. His fangs were what intrigued you the most. Eventually, you were pincered by him and another Spiderwoman named Jessica, who would later become one of your best friends.

Alas, you accepted, although not until being lured in by the offer of all the technology and scientific advancements you could imagine in Nueva York. The first time you had entered the HQ’s lab, you were like a kid in the candy store. You loved your job, which involved tailoring different types of chemical equipment, unique for each Spider that came by, as well as equally unique medicines and antidotes for the medical ward. 

Your main job, however, was developing the Rapture injection, the one you were recruited for, almost daily. And for who other than your broody boss? Even though he hadn’t left the best impression after chasing you like a madman in your hometown, you were required to work with him. And in the beginning, it would be an understatement to say it was challenging. Miguel was a whirlwind of sarcastic remarks and impatience who constantly nagged you for any updates. And to make it worse, each morning, you would make your way to Miguel’s office and inject him with your experimental Rapture of the day. Then in the evening, you would return to observe the effects. The days consisted of constant complaints that you were late, that the injection didn’t have the intended effect, and that Rapture was your top priority, all of which were grating on your soul. 

Since your daily routine started and ended with Miguel, your relations grew slightly amicable over time. It started with silent gestures of gratitude: a cup of steaming coffee left in your office in the lab, bringing extra dinner for him during the end-of-the-day check-ups. After 3 months of your stay at the Society, you both started communicating with your watches (He was insistent that you call the watches gizmos, to which you adamantly refused). At first, it was only about work and your Rapture progress. The conversations then slowly changed into more casual ones, topics ranging from your pets back home to him venting his frustrations about the shenanigans of whatever Hobie was up to that day. Sure, he was slightly more friendly (which wasn’t a feat considering who he was), but his irritable nature was still a turn-off for you, and the sarcasm leaping into every evaluation didn’t help either. You considered him lucky that he was quite the eye candy. He was actually pretty attractive whenever he shut his mouth.

This particular morning was your official return to Nueva York after two weeks, so you decided you would put a bit more effort into your routine. Reluctantly, you rose from your bed and stumbled towards your bathroom, wincing at the harsh cold of its floor underneath your feet. You allowed yourself a moment of bliss under your hot shower, trying your best to wash away any stress you were anticipating that day. Once you had finally stepped out of the shower, you quickly dried yourself off and wrapped a plush towel securely around your body, trying your best not to slip as you trudged over to the bathroom counter. Admittedly, you weren’t the most graceful Spider; you were on the smarter side.

Then it was the usual sequence of your routine. Brushing and blow-drying your hair, skincare, and makeup. Just as you were about to make your way to your closet, you realized that you had forgotten your lotion, which you would’ve considered disastrous. Nothing bothered you more than your own dry skin. By habit, you were about to reach for the usual bottle until an unopened box tempted you from the corner of your eye. As you turned it around in your hands and delicately unpackaged it, you silently chastised yourself for almost forgetting. It was a body butter, given to you by Jessica during a surprise visit on Christmas day.

“This is from Lyla. She says to thank her later,” Jessica had said on that day vaguely before giving a brief hug.

Unscrewing the lid from the jar, you smiled to yourself. If there was anyone other than Jessica that you truly missed over your break, it was Lyla. The hologram assistant never failed to make you smile with the many ways she’d tease Miguel, but she also never failed in constantly bringing up asking him out. “I don’t care if he’s your boss,” Lyla would say. “I’d know more than anyone if he has the hots for you, and he guess what? He does!” Which was hard to believe, considering his persistent stubbornness in your day-to-day interactions.

Once the lid was finally off, a waft of vanilla with a hint of sandalwood drifted into the air. Inhaling the scent of the butter deeply, you felt oddly touched. This was undeniably a scent that was up your alley, and it was very thoughtful. As you worked it into your skin, you made a mental note to thank Lyla. It was when you were just about finished that you noticed something peculiar. You had caught a subtle whiff of another note, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was elusive, teasing your senses as you racked your brain for what it could possibly be. Figuring it was just an ester you smelled in your various experiments, you left the bathroom to get dressed, with a more confident aura around yourself.

–

Your first day back couldn’t have started any more peculiar.

You had barely gotten the chance to take in the surroundings of your beloved HQ before you were instantly greeted with Hobie swinging in as he called your name, landing just in front of you.

“Evil genius. Heard you’d be back today,” Hobie greeted with his signature half-smile, his lanky arms immediately opening to embrace you. Which was weird, considering he was more of a handshake-y/shadowboxing type of greeter. But he was a joy to have around in your lab (despite him not particularly having too much interest in your work), so you didn’t refuse.

“You’ve gotten taller,” you replied with a grin on your face, happily accepting his embrace. While it was comforting, you noticed that it was taking a while for him to pull away. Passing it off as mere affection, you pulled away and looked up at Hobie’s face. He seemed almost bewildered as he stared down at you, almost in some sort of trance. Was he looking at your lips? Was he looking further down?

“Uh, Earth-928 to Hobie? Helloo?” you called out, snapping your fingers in front of him repeatedly in an attempt to wake him up. It wasn’t until the 5th or 6th snap that he finally seemed to jolt awake, although still fixated on you.

“Oh. My bad, fam,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. You raised a brow at his mannerisms; it was extremely unlike him to act so nervous. You then gave him a reassuring pat on his shoulder, and you swore you saw him slightly tense at the feeling.

“So, you got a new cologne or somethin’ like that? Hold on, not cologne…what’s it called? Perfume? Toilettes?” Hobie began rambling, seemingly in a desperate attempt to cover up his uncharacteristic awkwardness.

“Oh, Lyla got me-”

You were cut off by another voice shouting your name to your left. It was one of the many Peters. “How’s my favorite scientist been? How was your vacay?”

“Just stayed at home,” you answered, a bit startled as you tried to split your attention between Peter and Hobie. “Anyways, Lyla-”

Another voice chimed in behind you. “I heard your universe is one of the most beautiful. You were definitely up to something.” Then another. “It’s been forever since I last saw you!” Another. “Wanna come eat with us at the caf?”  You even heard Ben’s voice, to which you were surprised he had taken a break from his usual moping to join the ever-growing commotion around you. “You smell nice!” Soon, all the greetings and compliments became a garbled mess in your ears, your view obscured by a wall of Spiders.

You tried your best to force on a polite smile as you tried to weave your way through the oncoming traffic of people. To you, this was completely unexpected and foreign. Sure, you had made lots of friends in your time at HQ, but people weren’t exactly buzzed to see you. At most, you’d get a friendly wave as you passed by each other in the twisty pathways. Now, they acted like you were an oasis in a desert.  As you whipped your head around, you noticed something in the ever-growing crowd around you: it was all Spidermen. That irked you slightly; you had made many Spiderwomen friends as well. Where were they? Becoming slightly dizzy with the growing clamor around you, you were just about ready to web yourself up to the ceiling and swing your way to your lab.

As if your prayers were miraculously answered, the familiar rev of an engine overpowered the clamor of the Spidermen, and they immediately parted ways down the middle to reveal Jessica, staring at you with an amused grin as she sat on her motorcycle.

"I’ll take you to HQ if you tell me what the hell’s going on!” Jessica offered, her voice raised so that you could hear.

Instant relief flooded through your body as you nearly sprinted your way to Jessica, planting a grateful kiss on her cheek before hopping on the back of the motorcycle. As you both sped away, you still waved goodbye to the Spidermen, despite how weird you had felt mere seconds prior. As if things couldn’t get any weirder, you noticed that the crowd you had left behind had almost immediately dispersed, with only some lingering around to chat.

“God, Jess. I’ve been here for two minutes, and I think I’ve already had the weirdest day out of everyone here!” you remarked loudly with a heavy sigh. You linked your arms around Jessica’s waist to remain stable on the motorcycle, eyes squinted from traveling at such a high speed.

Jessica only seemed to chuckle in response as she steered through the complicated structure, towards your lab. “Yeah? Try being pregnant!” she called out over the wind, her curls tossing about in the wind.

Your eyes widened immediately upon the revelation. “You’re lying, shut up,” you scolded, immediately feeling over Jessica’s stomach to verify it. Lo and behold, your hands smoothed over the beginnings of a bump, which caused you to squeal out in excitement. “Oh my god, Jess! When is it due?!”

“6 months! So don’t hold on so tight!” Jessica chided playfully as she effortlessly navigated her way through the building, shouting at countless Spiders to move out of her way. You held on for dear life, but of course, not too tight.

Eventually, you reached your beloved lab, to which you both entered. The door hissed closed behind you, and after you had set your bag down, you immediately sprung into action. This was simultaneously your sanctuary and your training, where you were at your best. Jessica watched from a nearby stool, gently holding her stomach.

“So this is where you cook up the good stuff, hm?” Jessica quipped, her eyes glued to the liquid that was poured into an instant syringe.

“Somebody’s gotta keep the boss alive,” you chuckled, your meticulous hands carefully measuring out just the right amount of Rapture before sealing it closed. This was the new batch that you had been working on at home, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t eager to show Miguel. “Speaking of which, I’ll need a lift there.” Packing the syringe into a box, you motioned for Jessica to come with you as you began to walk toward the sealed doors. That was until you were stopped by your pregnant friend’s hand in your face.

“Hold up, hon. You still never explained what was going on out there,” Jessica reminded you in a stern tone with an equally stern look.

“Jess, I wanna know as much as you do.” You paused, taking a deep breath as you recounted the event. “Maybe it's just a…welcome committee thingy.”

Jessica gave you a pointed look as a scoff left her lips. “Welcome committee, my ass. Those guys were like pirates, and you were a siren. It was more like a…’Welcome Back, I Would Die For Your Attention’ committee.”

As much as you wanted to bite back, it was unfortunate that she was right. While most of the Spider-folk were kind, as they tended to be, they were never that eager to see you before. People you thought you could never shake were in the crowd. Did it feel nice? You were ashamed that it did, just slightly, but perhaps for a different reason than you thought.

Perhaps Miguel would be the same.

Noting your silence and your brows creased in thought, Jessica gave you a reassuring smile as she stood to pat you on the back. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop messing with you,” she chuckled, giving you a gentle push toward the door. “But something’s up, and I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“Yeah, yeah, let me know when you figure it out. I’d like to know too,” you said as you narrowed your eyes at her, although you could never keep a serious face with your best friend as you broke out into a smile.

With that, you both stepped out of the lab, only to be immediately greeted by another crowd of Spidermen that had gathered outside the entrance. Your face twisted into annoyance as you looked to Jessica for help.

“Move, people!” she shouted out above the onslaught of chattering Spidermen. “Unless you want to work with Miguel for a week!” With that, the crowd easily dispersed, scattering like…well, spiders. Despite the situation you were in, you were glad that many of them felt the same way about working with Miguel. Outside of work, he was bearable, but his free time was rare.

After another short ride on Jessica’s motorcycle through the complex, you reached Miguel’s office. You took a deep breath, giving your friend a firm nod as you prepared to walk through the automatic doors. As soon as you were about to take a step, Lyla apparated in front of you, sliding down her heart-shaped shades to get a good look at you.

“It’s been forever! Just know I’d hug you if I could,” the assistant exclaimed with the widest grin you’ve ever seen on her. Her playful antics were infectious, and her cheery tone seemed to wipe away the stress the day had accumulated so far. “Sooo, how’d you like your gift?”

“Oh! Right, uh, I’m wearing it right now,” you stammered out, feeling terrible. The morning had been so hectic that you forgot to seek out Lyla and thank her properly. Your response made Jessica raise a brow and lean over toward you, taking a whiff. You looked at her. “What do you think?”

“You smell sweet,” Jessica remarked, then paused, as if analyzing your scent a bit more. “And…womanly.”

Lyla seemed to nod eagerly at this statement, her virtual eyes glinting with curiosity as she prodded at you further. “And what’s it like?”

Perplexed by the wording of the question, you hesitated to answer. What on earth did either of them mean? Everyone was acting strange today. “Um, the vanilla is really nice, I had no idea you knew that I liked that sort of stuff. It was very thoughtful, Lyla.”

Lyla continued to stare at you a bit more intently, seeming to wait for another answer from you until she seemed to give up. “That’s good, I’m glad you love it,” she replied, though there was a hint of something enigmatic in her response. As if she were physically standing in front of the door to the office, Lyla stepped to the side, gesturing for them to go in as the doors slid open. “You can come in, but consider yourself warned. Miguel’s cranky at the moment.”

“When is he not?” You muttered, mostly to yourself, but you could hear Jessica snicker at your side as you both strolled in. The familiar hum of Miguel’s futuristic machinery filled your ears, the metallic interior of his office coldly greeting her eyes. When you first spotted your boss up on his platform (which was redundant, in your opinion), he was already wearing his suit. You swore he always wore it to show off his physique. He had his back turned to the both of you, seeming to intently stare at the screens and holograms in front of him blankly.

“Does he ever not do that?” Jessica muttered under her breath to you as you both stared ahead. It was so simple for her to break your resolve, pressing your lips together in a tight line to prevent yourself from letting out even the smallest sound.

“Are you ever not late?”

Miguel’s sharp voice immediately cut through the playful nature that surrounded the two of you. The smile immediately dropped from your face, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. How could somebody already be so irritated? The day hadn’t even started.

You glanced toward Jessica briefly before answering, trying to keep your voice steady. “I was just stuck in the lobby-”

“Yeah, I saw,” Miguel interjected coldly as he turned his head toward the hologram-screen that displayed the security feed. With a simple flick of his hand, the screen swiped out of view as he turned to face you, his face twisted into an unfamiliar emotion, albeit clearly not a pleasant one. “Really glad you had the time to mingle. Not like we’re on a schedule or anything.”

If Miguel hadn’t been 6’9” of almost entirely pure muscle, you swore you would’ve swung up and lunged at him like a rabid animal. Would it have killed him to be just a bit understanding? He was watching you through the feed, how was any of that your fault? His mockery and grumpy attitude were things you’d grown used to, but today, it was particularly biting. It seemed…personal.

Jessica seemed to feel the same way as you heard her snort audibly in response. This directed his attention towards her, his glare unwavering. “And you,” he began, pointing a finger directly at her. “What did I tell you about riding that thing through my building?”

“ Our building,” she bit back, her posture nonchalant as she lazily examined her nails. “How about you yell at the people who got in her way, smart guy?”

Miguel rolled his eyes at her remark, seemingly ready to go back and forth until he glanced down at her stomach. He then shook his head, gesturing to shoo her away. “I…I don’t even wanna get into it with you. Just…get out.”

Elbowing you lightly, Jessica leaned closer to you with a smirk. “See? Pregnancy perks,” she joked. “But I would’ve preferred a vacation.” You clamped a hand over your mouth to stop the fit of laughter you felt rising.

“¡Oye! Are you even listening?!” Miguel hissed at Jessica, pointing towards the doors. Genuinely, you admired her patience, as she didn’t even flinch. Giving you a look that clearly meant “good luck”, your best friend gently patted you on the back before taking her leave. You stared until her figure disappeared behind the automatic doors, and then you became all too aware that you and Miguel were alone. The air in the room grew tense as you attempted to quell the irritation rising within you.

Once you turned back to look up at Miguel, he was running his fingers through his hair, pushing it back in somewhat of a stressed manner as he was fixated on another screen. Without sparing you another glance, he spoke up again, the words barely even louder than the quiet buzz of the hologram projectors. “The Rapture. Get up here,” he muttered, slowly pacing back and forth on his levitated platform.

Tucking the box securely in your (thankfully) deep pockets, you made sure to secure it tightly, the contents too delicate to leave dangling so carelessly. Mentally preparing yourself for the incoming 5 minutes you had to spend with Miguel, you flung your wrist towards the edge of his platform, a silky web instantly connecting the two. Pulling on the tensile web, you gave yourself enough momentum to fling yourself up onto it, landing opposite to where he was standing—one of your more graceful landings.

His back was still turned to you as you pulled the box out of your pocket, carefully extracting the syringe with your latest creation. Staring down at it proudly, you stood on your feet and cautiously approached Miguel. “Worked on this one during vacation,” you said, not necessarily caring if he had anything to say about it. “Think it’s my best one yet.”

Miguel’s shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep exhale, intent on reading the details of his upcoming mission. “It better be,” was all he muttered, holographic nature of his suit fading away in a patch on his left shoulder, his usual injection site. Placing your right hand tentatively against his shoulder blade, you held the syringe up to his skin, ready to administer until you noticed something. You gently pressed a finger against his skin, and it was almost as if the muscle was made of rocks.

“You need to relax your shoulder, boss,” you remarked, your focus beginning to trail across the expanse of his back. It almost seemed to ripple constantly from how tense they were. Usually, this process was the easy part, and you both had done this dozens of times. 

“Yep. Got it.” A muscle in his neck flexed slightly.

“Is something bothering you?” you asked cautiously, observing his odd behavior. Seriously, him too? What was up with everyone today?

“ Mierda , just get on with it,” he grumbled, an obvious strain in his tone.

“If you say so,” you whispered, injecting the green liquid into his system. Once again, it was different. A sharp inhale escaped his lips as he winced; you caught a glimpse of his eyes flashing a bright red in the reflection of his monitors. The eyes were normal, it happened every time. But it never caused him discomfort before. Concern was etched across your features as you took a step back, your eyes scanning over his body. 

“Seriously, Miguel. Is there something I should know?” you asked with a huff, placing a hand on his other shoulder to turn him around. However, when you were finally able to his expression for the first time, it was nothing like you had ever expected. His eyes were clouded over as they locked onto yours, a rawness in his gaze that made you shudder. His jaw was clenched, muscles taut, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed deeply. You even noticed the cadence of his exhales, each one sounding as if he was barely in control. Was this an adverse reaction to the Rapture? Uneasiness began to settle into your skin. Was this your fault? You worriedly placed a hand against his forehead to feel his temperature, now noticing the sweat that had begun to dot across his forehead. 

He wasn’t even stopping you or making any snide remarks. Something was definitely wrong.

“Lyla?” you called out into the void of his office as you retracted your hand. “Show me his vitals.”

“No, Lyla, don’t even think about it,” Miguel objected through gritted teeth. You both were only greeted by Lyla’s familiar giggle as a hologram screen materialized behind Miguel, displaying his various vitals.

“You’re supposed to work for me ,” he grunted.

“Misclick! Oops, gotta go-” Lyla taunted, the sound of her program shutting off following. You swore you heard him mutter “chinga tu madre” under his breath.

As you read through the different stats, you only seemed to confuse yourself more. His body temperature was slightly elevated, but nowhere close to a fever. No production of histamines, so no allergies. Nothing from the injection seemed to affect any aspect of his body. His heart rate, however, was through the roof. Surely Spider-people don’t get heart attacks, right? You were about to instruct Lyla until a certain statement in his vital report caught your eye.

Elevated levels of oxytocin present.

Those words seemed to knock the wind right out of your stomach, struggling to find the words to say as you froze in place. Was there something you missed when you were gone? Miguel just suddenly had a thing for you? Racking your brain, you tried to think of any way this could have developed. Maybe distance does make the heart grow fonder. Would you be disrespecting yourself if this was fine with you? 

Suddenly, images of your time with him began to pop up in your mind, but they were now corrupted. You thought of the way his quadriceps flexed as he carried boxes into your new office, the hitch of his breath every time you gave him a new injection, and simply how large he was in comparison to you. Your free hand began to fidget with the hem of your shirt, letting your gaze fall anywhere but him. You were certain your cheeks looked like they had been pinched. The both of you stood there, unsure of what to do, an awkward silence engulfing the room.

As if unable to endure this situation any longer, Miguel muttered a curse under his breath before he moved swiftly, hopping down from the platform. He seemed eager to escape his office, which was strange; this was where he usually holed up before and after missions. The sound of his footsteps rang in your ears, finalizing the fact that you were now standing alone, your mind a whirlwind of chaos. But with each step he took, the more you felt your heartbeat in your ears, the steady rhythm urging you to follow him. To demand one ounce of clarity from him. He couldn’t just leave you here.

“Miguel, wait,” you called out, shooting a web to the floor and flinging yourself after him. Once you had landed, you kept pursuing him, but he quickened his pace. Your mind flashed back to when he had chased you through Central Park, and a smile snuck its way onto your lips. It only made you even more relentless, your gait quickening.

Once you were close enough to him, you reached out, your hand gently tapping the broadness that was his back, a silent plea for him to acknowledge what had just been uncovered between the both of you. After receiving no response, you sighed in exasperation. “Miguel, please,” you implored. “Could you tell me-”

Miguel pivoted abruptly, the intensity in his gaze disorienting as you felt him tightly grip your wrist. Despite not having done much, his breaths were almost ragged. His eyes were glazed over, dropping down from yours just for a moment, stealing a glance at your body before returning it to a respectable place. 

“What the hell are you doing to me?” he grunted through his teeth, his voice low as it wavered with a hint of vulnerability. Despite his efforts to keep it down, the question echoed throughout the confines of his empty office.

As you tried to wiggle your wrist away, you realized it would be a waste of effort to try, so you let him. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stared up at him with wide eyes. You knew for a fact that he could feel your heartbeat with the way he was gripping it, and you were certain it beat like a rabbit’s. Hopelessly caught off guard, you stammered, “I…I don’t know. It isn’t the Rapture, I promise, I did every-”

“Don’t you give me that,” he cut you off, his words seeming to slice through whatever resolve you had left. “I know it’s not the damn Rapture. It’s you. I know it’s you. You’re in my head.”

The admission hung in the air between you two, another thing that only seemed to confuse you further that day. Miguel’s eyes bore into yours, its murky depths desperately searching yours for any answers. But he was only greeted by ones who were as clueless as he was. As he stared down at your wrist that was so easily enveloped by his hand, it seemed to spur him on. Impulsively, Miguel gripped you by your frame and whirled you around, pushing you against the metallic wall, his arms forming a cage around you.

You felt like you were caught in the eye of the storm of emotions that were building up inside him. You were utterly dwarfed by his figure. Sure, you always knew that he was tall, but you never had been this up close and personal before. As you glanced over at the arms that had caged you in like an animal, you fought the urge to run your hand over the ripple of his biceps that were almost staring at you right in the face. Realizing you were definitely focusing on the wrong thing, your eyes met his once again, each time becoming more difficult than the last. Whatever he had to say, you had no choice but to hear it.

“I can’t control it,” he continued, the words escaping like a reluctant exhale. That part was obvious enough. “The moment you stepped into HQ, every damn thought is you. Coño , I can’t even read one sentence of the mission brief with you right behind me. I’m doing things before I even think. I want to hate it.”

The weight of his words settled over you, sinking deep into your skin as you felt yourself burn up again. His sudden infatuation made you realize all the flirty comments and gentlemanly gestures that had been following you all morning. Sure, it was similar, but none of them seemed to be affected more than Miguel. What was it? Swallowing thickly, you mustered the courage to speak, to test the waters. “But you…don’t hate it?” you breathed, your chest seizing with regret as soon as the words left your lips.

Miguel’s brows furrowed, and you had trouble discerning what emotion was causing it. “I don’t,” he choked out, his voice dropping to a whisper. “So fix it.” “What?” His demand hung in the air, a fervent and pleading demand. “I said, fix it,” he insisted, his words taking on a rougher tone. One of his hands slid down from the wall, and he poked accusingly at your chest, just at the top of your sternum. “Whatever you’re doing, fix it,” he persisted, his voice akin to a low growl that sent pleasurable tingles down your spine. “Or I will.” “I don’t know how,” you shamefully admitted, your words laced with sincerity. Your eyes were blown wide upon seeing how intense he was up close, you could hear his labored breaths. The silence that followed your answer lingered between the both of you, both searching each other’s expressions just for one hint, a clue as to how to proceed from that moment. Miguel had always made the decisions, not you, and seeing him at a total loss for words had also stumped you. “I– um, you said that it was when I arrived, right?” you sputtered out, desperate to say anything to ease the heavy tension that was beginning to crush the both of you. Your eyes tried to lock on anywhere that wasn’t Miguel, but it proved difficult when his figure loomed over you. “I can just, uh…go home? Yeah! I can go back home for the day, and I–” And then, with a suddenness that left you without your words, Miguel’s hands retracted from the walls at your sides, cupping your face. Without letting another beat of your heart pass, he surged forward, all too quickly, then his lips were on yours. 

At first, your mind tried to make sense of what was happening. This was Miguel O’Hara, your boss, and a rude one at that. The same guy who always scolded you for the smallest of reasons. Not only would it be inappropriate to continue, but a blow to your self-respect. Yet, in the moment that followed, you felt his tongue gently graze against your bottom lip, and all logic seemed to dissolve and wash away, surrendering to his kiss. You should have been embarrassed that you had to reach up so far to wrap your arms around his neck, but he hunched over to make it easier on you.

He seemed to have been waiting for any sort of response from you. His hands moved with purpose, falling from your face to claw at your body, exploring the curves of your back as if he wanted to burn every detail to his memory. The fevered kiss he gave you ceased for a moment, a curse just barely able to escape from his lips before he began to bury his head into your shoulder. He began to leave openmouthed kisses to the smooth, delicate skin of your neck, his canines gently prodding at the skin. The sting seemed to tease you, to ask you how far you were willing to let him go.

“So you are a vampire,” you remarked breathlessly, whining softly at each slow, tantalizing kiss.

You aren’t able to see it, but you feel the way his lips curve up into a smirk against you. The laugh that followed was mind-bogglingly euphoric, the vibrations rippling against the expanse of your neck so deliciously that the heat building between your legs became nearly impossible to ignore. Your hands trail down from his shoulders and smooth over his chest, an action that you found to elicit the prettiest sounds from your boss. You didn’t even know he was capable of such a thing. You wanted to know what else he was capable of.

“You want it here?” you asked, your hands gently pushing against his chest in an attempt to make him pay attention to your words. But it was like he couldn’t pry himself from you. You were given a mere grunt in response, and you felt his calloused hand hold the back of your neck, stroking your nape tenderly. With his face still buried against your skin, he inhaled the scent of you deeply. That alone seemed to make his yearning nature worse, his words barely escaping past the low whine that resonated in his throat.

“Wherever I can fucking have you,” Miguel said as he grasped you, hands cupping just beneath your jaw as his thumbs smoothed over your cheeks. The way he looked at you, half-lidded, pleading, and absolutely drunk off of your body, sent your mind reeling and melted your limbs as you pushed yourself into him. Your eyes darted around for a suitable place, but Miguel’s office wasn’t necessarily 5 stars when it came to comfort. Raising your head, your gaze locked onto the platform you both were just on. Meekly, you point up towards it, unsure if he would satisfy your request. His head followed as you reached out, and he vaguely scoffed.

You were about to suggest another place until his strong arm secured its way around your waist, and suddenly, you were being hoisted into the air alongside your boss. A yelp escaped your throat out of shock, desperately gripping onto Miguel’s body despite knowing you wouldn’t fall. The gesture made him chuckle in a way you had never heard before, the sound hearty and resounding deeply in his chest. And it seemed to drug you and fill your veins with such an unyielding desire; it made you wonder how something so simple as a laugh further fueled this indecorous addiction to him.

Before you even knew it, you were seated in the middle of the platform with him kneeling beside you. As you stared up at him, you were unsure of what to do. But it was like he had read your mind, resulting in a roll of his eyes and his sarcastic nature making a brief return. 

“You planning to just sit there?” Miguel huffed as he dragged you closer to him. “Lay down.” His tone is so enticingly irrefutable, so you comply, your back hitting the platform, the cold metal making you shudder. You stared up at him, curious as to how he was going to do this.

Slotting himself in between your legs, his fingers desperately tugged at the waistband of your pants before doing away with them entirely, barely noticing that he had taken your underwear with it. He marveled at what he had revealed, carefully tugging your legs apart as if he wanted to worship it further. His eyes flicked up to your face for just a painstaking moment, and it was hot from anticipation, worsening as he hovered between your legs, pressing kisses along your inner thighs.

“You want this?” he murmurs, his words deep and gravelly. You eagerly nod, fighting the urge to shiver from the coldness that overtook your lower half.

Suddenly, you didn’t have to worry much about the cold the moment you felt his warm breath graze you in just the right way. He pressed a wet, languid kiss to your heat, the saliva his tongue was slathering you with mingling with the arousal that began to pool. You were amazed at how effortlessly his ministrations manipulated your body, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each pleasured exhale. When did he have the time to be so good at this sort of thing?

Soon, you were introduced to his fingers, so lengthy and thick that they had your eyes rolling into the back of your head as they plunged inside you. Each call of his name seemed to spur him on, increasing his tempo and the lewd, obscene noises that echoed across his office. Before you even knew it, all of it was too much; the subtle curling and pumping of his girthy fingers, the flick of his tongue; it was like a wave had crashed over you, sending your thighs into convulsions. He slowed his movements as each thrust of his fingers grew more wet, easing you down from your high. The delicate touches lasted for a mere second before you were flipped over, your hips being dragged back as you felt your behind press against the outline of the stiff, rock-hard muscle at his crotch, a testament to how much he had been craving you.

What followed was a sweetly painful, visceral blur. You had heard the sound of his holographic suit retracting itself, and you turned your head, curious as to what you’d see. He smiled smugly at your doe-eyed expression upon seeing his goods, and the only thing occupying your mind was if he could fit at all. It wasn’t like you weren’t expecting it, he was a behemoth of a man after all. But seeing it up close, anticipating its entry was an entirely different beast.

But Miguel was experienced, having dutifully prepared you to take him, making it a more easy experience as his tip prodded your entrance gently, slowly easing himself in. The stretch was undeniably painful, your fingers clutching at the floor, desperately looking for something to hold onto. But as he pushed in further, the feeling transformed into a euphoric ache. He had been trying his best to remain silent to not attract any attention from the outside, but your name managed to fall from his mouth in a hoarse groan, harmonizing with the pathetic whines that you had been letting out. His hands pinned your wrists against the floor, the freezing nature of the floor beneath you contrasting with the heat that bounced between your bodies.

His vigorous pace slightly rocked the platform beneath you, threatening to tip over if Miguel had a mind to get rougher. However, he seemed to know his limits, effortlessly filling you up in a way that could satisfy you for lifetimes. Crude phrases left your swollen lips, each one a way to praise the man that was fucking you like his next mission was his last. The sound of your skin colliding with him was growing filthier with each second, more carnal. For a fleeting second, your mind filled with worry, anxious about anybody that could have been waiting outside his office. Anyone who stood within a 5-yard radius from the entrance could hear just about anything that was going on inside. But his fingers then came up to slither their way into the roots of your hair, yanking your head back far enough so he could whisper in your ear. “Keep talking, say you want me. Say it.”

And soon enough, you were begging for him, arms shaking as you struggled to hold yourself up as ripples of your orgasm traveled throughout your body, your slick absolutely drenching the both of you. Your pleas were what had done him in, his rhythm stuttering and his length pulsing inside you, unsheathing himself as he emptied himself all over your ass, the viscous liquid dripping slowly down its curve. For a moment, the both of you stayed where you were, worn-out breaths being the only thing you both could exchange as you tried to wrap your head around what you had done.

Surprisingly, Miguel had a thought for aftercare. He had retrieved a gym towel and cleaned you up, wiping away his release and your sweat as best as he could. “Still think you have to shower, though,” he commented, the smug undertone in his voice not going unnoticed.

“Back at you,” you quipped, though the smile never left your face as you redressed yourself.

You never thought you would have to try to sneak your way out of Miguel’s office, but considering how disheveled you were after your tryst with him, it was the only way to keep your dignity intact. The air outside was cooler, freezing against your skin that still burned with the residual warmth of his hands all over you. You shuddered. You definitely needed a cold shower.

After grabbing your spare clothes from your office, you found yourself in the ladies’ room. Stripping off your sweat-ridden clothes (you had a mind to scold him for not taking them off), you hopped into one of the showers and slid the privacy curtain shut behind you. The warm water was comforting, easily washing away the feeling of sex away from your body, but what remained emotionally was unexpected. The thought of seeing him again.

A nervous energy gnawed at your heart as you mindlessly lathered soap all over your body. The both of you just had a steamy hookup, but what would happen now? Your insides seemed to twist as you remembered the fact that seeing him at the end of the day was inevitable. The water from your showerhead seemed to pelt down at your skin now, creating an atmosphere perfect for overthinking. Was it a one time thing? Did he want more? Did he like you? Would he fire you? Thankfully, Miguel was due for a mission today, so you wouldn’t have to worry about seeing him before your scheduled time. That would give you enough space to cool your head. 

“Relax,” you told yourself, barely able to hear your thoughts over the pitter-patter of water droplets around you. “You just screwed your boss. Tough it out. Forget about it. Act like it didn’t happen.”

However, the memory of his hands tracing the contours of your back seemed to follow you like a ghost, sending shivers down your spine no matter how much you cranked up the heat of your shower.

–

Enclosed in the white, sterile walled haven that was your lab, you buried yourself in work, hoping that the hum of calibration machines and the countless lab tests were enough to get your mind off of your tumultuous morning. You decided that it wasn’t enough, sliding your headphones over your ears and blasting your favorite playlist on repeat just so you wouldn’t have to hear your inner turmoil.

And it worked, the hours effortlessly passing by in a blur. Holographic displays and paperwork filled your visions, the very tasks you used to complain about becoming a solace on your first day back at your lab. You didn’t expect to get much done considering the crowd you had easily amassed earlier that morning, but strangely, that stopped, and you were thankful. Your usual visitors came in: Gwen, a few Peters, and even Hobie, who apologized profusely for how much of a “halfwit” he was being earlier, all while simultaneously swearing that you would never tell another soul. You agreed, stifling a laugh, knowing you could never be upset with him. Despite feeling confused for what had seemed like the millionth time that day, things seemed to be falling back into place, and it would have been comforting if it hadn’t been for one thing. You couldn’t exactly unfuck your boss. You chastised yourself quietly for thinking about it again; you were doing so well.

Once again, he was consuming your mind to the point where you couldn’t set your mind straight as you tried to come up with a new substance for one of your Spiderwoman clients. She had asked for a chemical that could help her easily attract and control actual spiders in her vicinity. You had a vague idea of how to bring her idea to life, with cetyl acetate sitting in one of your beakers, but you couldn’t quite remember the other component no matter how hard you racked your brain.

You retraced your steps, checking and double-checking the labels of the countless chemicals that sat preciously in your lab. You felt frustration coil up within you as you consulted your reference binder, embarrassed that you even had to look such a simple thing up. By the time you had located the constituent, many a Spider had begun to leave, the chatter outside of your lab winding to a hush. After squeezing a few drops of farnesyl acetate into your beaker, you gave the substances a quick mix, noting how nice it smelt. And how familiar.

Everything building up in you had left you seeking refuge in your dainty office that sat in the corner of the lab. As you closed the door behind you, temporary relief washed over you, and it was then that you decided it would be best if you went home for the day. Retrieving your bag, you sighed as you sank into your chair, weariness finally settling in after hours of constant work. Fishing around your bag for your office key, your fingers brushed against a jar-shaped object. You brought along Lyla’s gift for retouching throughout the day, but it slipped your mind amidst the chaos of the day. Hoping the vanilla scent would ease your thoughts, you unscrewed the cap with purpose, hoping it would ease the tension in your skin.

Just as you were about to apply, the sound of the entrance doors hissing open disrupted your serenity. Ready to tell off whoever was disturbing your peace, you set down the jar, twisted the doorknob open, and stormed out of your office, only to be frozen in place as you were greeted by the one and only Miguel, his expression uncharacteristically sheepish. A new cut adorned his face, already in the process of regeneration as it had already scarred over. Different parts of his holosuit were damaged, leaving behind a glitch-like static; were those claw marks? He definitely had a rougher day than you.

Clearing your throat, you spoke up. “You alright? That looks like it hurt,” you remarked, tentative as you were unsure what the conversation would lead to.

Miguel simply shrugged, his eyes unable to find yours. “I, uh…the anomaly was more intense than I thought. Was a bit distracted, got roughed up,” he said, his voice a rare mix of honesty and humility.

Your brows furrowed together in sympathy despite the unspoken words between the two of you. “Did you need me to whip something up for you?” you offered, moving towards your box of plastic gloves.

It was only then that he looked up at you, his hand coming up, gesturing for you to stop in protest. “No! No, it’s okay. I’ll live.” He met your eyes, and you immediately knew that he was just as unsure as you were, the uncertainty giving way to a hint of vulnerability.

After a hesitant pause, Miguel finally spoke, the moment you were waiting for finally happening. “Look, about earlier…I’m sorry,” his words stumbling out. “It was unexpected.”

Although you had anticipated this answer, you couldn’t help but deflate upon actually hearing it. You weren’t expecting him to fall on his knees and ask for your hand, but you would’ve at least liked to hear him say that he enjoyed it. “You’re sorry? Would you rather have not done it all?” you accused, much to his chagrin.

“I– no, carajo , that’s not what I meant at all,” he sighed in irritation, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, it’s just…it caught us off guard. I’m not sorry it happened, I’m sorry that it was just…sudden, that’s all,” he huffed, not wanting to get into it with you.

For a moment, you pondered over his words. So he wasn’t opposed to sleeping with you. With impulsive thoughts bubbling up inside you, you were prodded to take the leap again. “Would you do it again?” you asked genuinely, an offer to him.

Miguel’s eyes widened in surprise, an exhale of relief shortly following, a chuckle mingled with his words. “Yeah, I’d do it again,” he answered, moving to step closer to you, and you didn’t mind. Just as it seemed as if he was about to sweep you into his arms again, he stopped in his tracks, his head turning to your lab bench as he fixated on the beaker, the one that was carrying your latest project.

Initially, you thought that Miguel was some sort of a stickler for cleanliness, so you felt embarrassed, reaching for your disposable gloves once again. “Oops, I’ll just put that away–”

“No,” he ordered with a familiar intensity in your voice, making you retract back to your original spot. He inched closer to the workbench, nostrils flaring as he sniffed at the mixture in the fragile glass. “What is that? Tell me,” he demanded, the urgency in his voice increasing tenfold.

Although you were weirded out by how much this seemed to matter to him, you answered earnestly. “Some…strange project one of the Spiderwomen wanted me to work on. Something to attract spiders, but just the males to prevent them from fighting. Synthetic pheromones, essentially.”

“Huh. Smells like how you did this morning,” he remarked almost immediately, raising a brow in confusion.

You stood there, utterly winded by his words, unsure of what to say. Was he saying this figuratively to flirt with you? But judging from the look in his eyes, he was deadly serious. As your eyes locked onto the concoction that you had made that morning, your mind went to the jar that was sitting on your desk, opened. Without another word, you rushed to your office, taking the jar of body butter and inhaling its aroma deeply. You felt your heart drop to your stomach in terror, the scents were strikingly similar. Turning the jar around in your hands with haste, your eyes scanned for the list of ingredients, silently praying you weren’t rubbing what you thought you were rubbing into your skin.

As you searched, you felt Miguel’s presence right behind you, leaning over your shoulder as he examined the jar with you, inexplicably drawn to it. “What’s that?” he inquired, the strain in his voice from before making a return.

“The lotion I put on this morning,” you said dreadfully, turning your head to look up at him sheepishly. Still confused, he met your gaze only for a moment before he searched through the neverending list of ingredients.

“What did you put in that beaker?”

“Farnesyl acetate and hexadecyl acetate. If it doesn’t say hexadecyl, try cetyl.”

After a minute of searching, Miguel hunched over you to point at a specific spot on the jar. Following his finger, you sighed, laying your eyes on the very thing you didn’t want to see.

“So…” you began awkwardly, unable to wrap your mind around the information bouncing around in your brain. It started to connect like dots: how you attracted the Spidermen in the morning by the dozen, Jessica’s remark about you smelling like a “woman”, Miguel’s sudden lust for you. Then the notable absence of your eager Spider-crowd after your shower. “As your head chemist, I can conclude that spider pheromones can work on…us.”

“Evidently,” Miguel responded, visibly dumbfounded. Seeming eager to prevent more chaos from occurring, he took the jar and its lid from your hands, screwing the lid tightly shut before placing it on your desk carefully. “Where’d you even get something like that?”

“I didn’t. Lyla got it for me,” you confessed. Your mind went to that mischievous hologram. Did she know? Was this a clever attempt to kickstart something between you and Miguel?

“Lyla, that minx...” Miguel trailed off, and you caught a glimpse of his eyes rolling before he squeezed them shut, pinching his nose bridge in an attempt to quell what presumably was a string of curses toward his assistant. Immediately, he swiftly turned around, muttering quietly to himself as he made his way towards his exit. “I ought to give her a piece of my mind…”

You stared after him, about to leave him to his own devices before a thought crossed your mind. You remembered Miguel’s biology, the very thing that made him Spiderman in the first place: his DNA was spliced with one of a spider, effectively making him 50% arachnid. The pheromones you had been unknowingly emitting would affect him more than anyone else, and it proved to be true. An uneasiness settled into your stomach, was that the only reason why he wanted you?

“Wait,” you called after him, your voice betraying your attempted nonchalance. Miguel paused at the doorway, leaning against it as he turned to look at you with an arched brow. His eyes silently asked you to proceed.

“Is it… just the pheromones?” you asked, feeling your stomach twist and turn into knots as you awaited his reply. “You know, about everything, uh, earlier.”

Miguel pushed himself off of the door. “Well, it definitely gave me the push I needed,” he admitted, sauntering over to you with a grin so smug you wanted to smack it off his face. “But, if we’re being honest, I would’ve done it eventually.”

You blinked, processing his words.”You mean that? But you’re kinda mean.”

He sighed loudly, stopping just in front of you. “Idiot. Yes, I mean it,” he muttered, leaning down to cup your cheeks in his hands, his face levelling with yours. “You drive me crazy.”

And the kiss that Miguel left on your lips afterward was more gentle than the hungry, needy one he gave you before, dispelling any doubts you had about the true nature of his feelings. His lips were like heaven, slightly chapped from the labor of his mission from earlier, but you didn’t care. When he pulled away, there was a soft playfulness in his eyes you had never seen before.

“You got it?” he teased, his thumb smoothing over your cheek.

You managed a nod, resulting in Miguel gently patting your cheek before releasing you and turning to leave, still insistent that he give Lyla a piece of his mind. Giggling at his antics, you were about to grab your things to leave until you saw his head pop in the entrance once more. “Yes?” you called out.

“Bottle that thing up and label it as a hazard,” he ordered in response, pointing toward the open beaker on the bench. “It’s damn near chemical warfare,” he mumbled before disappearing again.

“Yes, boss,” you complied, unable to fight the grin that was now plastered to your face. As you bottled up your concoction, you made a mental note to thank Lyla. Again.

originally posted on ao3! first fic i'm ever posting on tumblr and i'm so excited! feedback and suggestions for more stories are more than welcome!

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Visually appealing: We use web graphic design to create stunning and consistent visual elements for your website, such as colours, fonts, images, icons, and animations.

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Functional and reliable: We use web development to code and program your website, using languages such as HTML, CSS, JavaScript, PHP, and others. We follow the principles of web standards, web accessibility, web performance, and web security, to ensure the quality and reliability of your website.

Our Work Process

At Web Farm House, we follow a systematic and collaborative work process to create your website. Our work process consists of four main phases: Discovery, Design, Development, and Delivery:

Discovery: This is the phase where we get to know you and your project. We will ask you some questions about your goals, needs, preferences, budget, and timeline. We will also conduct some research on your industry, competitors, and target audience. Based on the information we gather, we will create a project proposal and a contract for you to review and approve.

Design: This is the phase where we create the visual and interactive elements of your website. We will start by creating a sitemap and a wireframe, which are the blueprints of your website’s structure and layout. We will then create a mockup, which is a prototype of your website’s appearance and functionality. We will present the mockup to you and ask for your feedback and approval. We will make any revisions as needed until you are satisfied with the design.

Development: This is the phase where we code and program your website. We will use the latest web development technology to create a website that is functional, reliable, and compatible with different devices and browsers. We will also test and debug your website to ensure its quality and performance. We will show you the progress of the development and ask for your feedback and approval.

Delivery: This is the final phase where we launch and maintain your website. We will upload your website to your chosen hosting service and domain name. We will also provide you with a user manual and a training session on how to use and update your website. We will also offer you ongoing support and maintenance services to keep your website running smoothly and securely.

We will also listen to your feedback and suggestions and make any changes as needed. We will work with you as a partner and a friend, not just as a client and a vendor. we value your input and satisfaction throughout the work process. We will communicate with you regularly and keep you updated on the status of your project.

Our Web Designing Services

Our is provides web design services for clients who want to create or improve their online presence. We help clients with various aspects of web designing, such as consultation, strategy, design, development, testing, launch, and maintenance:

Static web design

Liquid web design.

Adaptive web design.

Dynamic web design.

Responsive web design.

Single-page web design.

Why Choose Us?

We are a One-Stop Solution for delivering the best web design and development services. We render customized and affordable web design facilities to suit your requirements. Choose the best plans for building a responsive web design according to your needs:

Excellent technical support

Core PHP &Codeigniter + MySQL.

Secure and Reliable coding.

Satisfactory Customer Support.

SEO-friendly web development.

[mbruben-stein]

MHA Girls' Dating Male S/O who has the Personality and quirk/powers like Spider-Man would Include?

~Ochaco Uraraka~

Ochaco would find your nimbleness, agility and spider-like abilities really impressive. She'd love watching you gracefully swing around using your webbing. Your incredible reflexes and spidey-sense would amaze her.

She'd relate to your humble, down-to-earth personality despite your amazing powers. Like her, you don't let your quirk/abilities go to your head. You both believe in using your gifts to help people.

Ochaco would admire your scientific smarts and how you invent your own web fluid and gadgets, kind of like how she works hard to improve her quirk. You inspire each other.

With your shared sense of humor, you two would constantly be laughing together and playfully bantering. Ochaco loves how you can always lighten the mood.

In training or combat, your spidey-sense would help alert you when Ochaco or other allies need assistance. You have her back.

If you got injured using your powers to protect others, Ochaco would worry a lot and insist on nursing you back to health. Your selflessness means a lot to her but she doesn't want you taking too many risks.

Ochaco would blush like crazy if you teasingly shot a web to pull her in close to you for a surprise kiss. Your abilities can certainly spice up the romance

Most of all, Ochaco would love your caring heart and how you always try to do the right thing with your powers, just like her and Deku. You're the type of hero she admires most.

~Mina Ashido~

Mina would find your spidey-sense both impressive and amusing. She'd jokingly call it your "Y/N tingle" to playfully tease you about it, like "Is your Y/N tingle going off again?" when you sense incoming danger.

She'd love swinging around the city with you, laughing gleefully as you use your webs to propel you both through the air. Mina's carefree, thrill-seeking personality would make her the perfect partner for your high-flying adventures.

Mina would constantly praise your incredible agility, flexibility and acrobatic moves during training and hero work. "Wow babe, you're so bendy! Guess I know why you're such a great dancer too!"

Your shared goofy sense of humor and love of witty quips would lead to tons of banter and inside jokes between you two. You'd egg each other on trying to one-up each other's clever comebacks.

Mina would think your scientific smarts are super attractive. She'd watch in admiration as you invent gadgets and marvel at your ability to improvise solutions using science under pressure.

She'd find your moments of awkwardness and stammering utterly endearing. Mina would give you an affectionate peck on the cheek anytime you get adorably flustered around her.

Whenever you get injured doing hero work, Mina would fuss over you and insist on treating your wounds herself, even though your enhanced healing factor means you don't really need it. She just wants to take care of her Spidey.

Mina would be your ultimate hype girl, always believing in you and cheering you on, whether facing school challenges, mastering a new move, or taking down villains. Her enthusiasm would be a constant inspiration to you.

~Momo Yaoyorozu~

Your spidey-sense would often tingle when Momo is nearby, alerting you to her presence even before you see her. You'd get a warm, fuzzy feeling whenever she's close.

Momo would be fascinated by your powers and constantly want to analyze your web fluid and understand the science behind your abilities. You'd geek out together over chemistry and physics.

With your shared intellect, you and Momo would have intense study sessions together, challenging and motivating each other. You'd make a formidable academic duo.

Momo's calm and confident leadership style would complement your more quippy and improvisational approach during hero training. You'd strategize well together.

Your enhanced agility and reflexes would allow you to pull off incredible combo moves with Momo in battle. She'd conjure tools and weapons for you to creatively utilize.

Whenever Momo doubts herself, your unwavering optimism and faith in her abilities would lift her back up. You'd be her biggest cheerleader.

Momo would worry about you throwing yourself headfirst into danger without thinking. Your spidey-sense would have to work overtime to avoid her lectures.

You'd love to show off your acrobatics and web-slinging to impress Momo, even if you sometimes get tangled up or slam into walls. She'd patch you up while giggling.

Momo's proper and polite personality would be flustered by your constant wise-cracks and pop culture references, but she'd secretly find your dorky charm endearing.

With your shared sense of responsibility, you and Momo would take your hero work very seriously, pushing each other to be the best heroes you can be - while still making time for study dates and fun outings just the two of you.

~Tsuyu Asui~

Your spidey-sense would constantly be tingling around Tsuyu, but not because of danger - rather because your senses are so attuned to her presence. You always know when she enters a room.

Tsuyu finds your quippy one-liners both endearing and exasperating. She rolls her eyes but can't hide her smile when you make silly science puns during training exercises.

With your enhanced agility and Tsuyu's frog-like jumps, the two of you are an incredibly mobile duo, springing and swinging across the battlefield together in perfect sync.

Tsuyu appreciates how even though you have amazing powers, you stay humble and never let it go to your head. Your strong sense of responsibility resonates with her.

Study dates often devolve into you eagerly explaining complex scientific concepts while Tsuyu listens intently, finding your enthusiasm absolutely adorable.

When you get lost in your own thoughts, muttering to yourself while working on tech upgrades, Tsuyu gently ribbits to bring you back to earth, knowing you sometimes need a little nudge.

Tsuyu admires your bravery in always doing the right thing no matter what, even when it's difficult. But she's also the first to call you out if your heroic instincts veer into recklessness.

Your spider-reflexes come in handy for catching Tsuyu's tongue when she shoots it out playfully to mess with you. It usually then turns into a light-hearted wrestling match between you two.

With your shared sense of loyalty, strong moral compass, and desire to help others, you and Tsuyu make a great team, both in your relationship and as future Pro Heroes. Your powers complement each other perfectly.

[drdemonprince]

How do you tell if someone is interested in you? In the past I've had a hard time telling if someone has been romantically interested in me, and it's only been in retrospect or when talking to mutuals or hearing it from the person that I've learned that they were interested in me, and perceived my reactions as disinterest. I've also occasionally interpreted behaviors as signs of interest incorrectly which has led to awkward situations and even loss of friendships.

Especially when it comes to friends, I just want to know how to ask if someone is interested in me or express interest in them without destroying the friendship. Obviously a hard situation so don't expect a magic solution but would be curious if you have advice!

There is no foolproof way to know if a person is attracted to you, which is why we have the power of overt communication.

Just check in with your own desires first, and then communicate about it! Are you interested in the person? That is reason enough to consider expressing your feelings, but doubly so if you have received some signals that suggest they like you. It's much better to clear the air than to spend months or years trying to decode messages and working yourself up into a lather over all the intrigue.

You can ask the person if they are interested in you, or you can ask them if they meant any particular gesture in a flirtatious way. I've had friends ask me that before, and even when the answer was no, we were fine! It's a cishet allistic nonsense myth that communicating openly about desire will "ruin" a friendship. What ruins a friendship is a tangled web of unspoken projections and longings forming beneath the surface for years without anybody feeling free to name what is happening.

Sitcoms be damned, you can literally just ask a person "is this a date" or "I've noticed you've been touching me on the arm a lot lately, are you flirting with me?" or "We have a really strong friendship chemistry, have you ever wanted something more?" or "I love our friendship and I'm so very happy with it, but I'd also like to pursue dating you, if you were into it." or the like. These are all perfectly fine things to say to a person, things that I've heard and responded to before or known friends to have said.

I have had many friends that I was attracted to, or who were attracted to me -- and none of us died from not getting to fuck one another, nor did any of us go crazy from unrequited desire. I've never felt creeped out by a friend being into me, and when they have brought this attraction up, I was relieved to be able to convey to them when I wasn't available or interested myself. Open communication meant they could stop wondering about it and I could stop worrying that I was somehow accidentally giving romantic signals off. I tend to be expressive and attentive to people I care about, and I don't want to have to reign that in or become artificially cold for fear of seeming flirtatious. It's better to just talk about.

And when i've had a burning desire for a friend who wasn't into me, all I've had to do is make sure I behave respectfully to them and don't expect anything out of the friendship and then made sure to keep my masturbating about the person a good distance away from the real human being themselves so they didn't have to ever think about it or know that it was happening. sometimes I've sustained close friendships for years while being really into a person who just wasn't into me, and I was able to separate the reality of them from my fantasies. More often than not, the attraction has ebbed and taken on far less urgency once it's no longer an open question and it's clear to me that it's not worth pursuing.

[vivacissimx]

vivacissimx meta masterpost ✧˖°

We're about at the time where a post like this makes sense. If you see any missing metas it's likely because I no longer (entirely) agree with either a premise or phrasing and I'd like to rework it at some point—or I forgot. Feel free to ask!

I've bolded metas which I believe to be the most sound or that highlight a critical point which is overlooked by most ASOIAF analysis I have read. I also use the tags #text and #gender-in-asoiaf.

The Starks and the North

how jon being a bastard shaped the relationships between ALL members of house stark

on the abuse debate

how jon snow internalized catelyn tully stark's ideals

jon snow's heroes: an evolution from AGOT to ADWD

on jon snow and the R+L=J reveal

on jon snow's attraction to men

on jon snow forgiving theon greyjoy

on jon snow weaponizing his own competence

jon snow & women at the Wall: the question of rape

sansa stark & foreshadowed false testimony

sansa and ned have a foil relationship to lyanna and rickard

arya IS like other girls

arya stark: death and balance

arya & jon underrated parallels

the textual significance of the arya/lyanna parallels

the importance of lyanna stark's crypt statue

how lyanna influenced ned's acts of love for his daughters

how ned stark would perceive daenerys targaryen

what would happen to ned if robert discovered R+L=J?

Daenerys Targaryen

every daenerys ever: how dany's claim of a throne is foreshadowed throughout house targaryen's history

on the healing power of fire

on the myth that daenerys targaryen ruined meereen's economy

on the myth of a diplomatic solution in meereen

daenerys & ser barristan selmy: found family!

daenerys & bran: putting the first/last chapters of AGOT in conversation

daenerys & tyrion: how their TWOW alliance may come about

House Targaryen

visenya the conqueror & the evolution of usurpation in house T

on rhaegar targaryen and the prophecy of TPTWP

on alysanne targaryen, and how viserra's betrothal/the aftermath unfolded

viserra, alysanne, & baelon: a web weaving

viserra & saera

Theon Greyjoy

theon's gender: always broken, always under construction

[NOTE: this is the meta on which all my other theon meta relies. If you read nothing else I have ever said about theon, please read this.]

roose bolton as (another) father figure to theon

why theon greyjoy did not go visit his mother

theon greyjoy and the myth of return

theon greyjoy and winterfell's mirroring in ADWD

House Lannister

jaime & tyrion's awareness of cersei being abused

cersei lannister's brothers rationalization of cersei as being complicit in her abusive relationship

on cersei lannister's idealization of rhaegar, & also her dysphoria

ASOIAF Misc

breakdown of the grand maester conspiracy

unreliable narrators (and why we NEED arianne martell POV)

jon connington's memory

Dance of the Dragons Era

rhaenyra targaryen's maladaptive relationships due to abuse

rhaenyra & daemon's gender troubles

on viserys naming (and keeping) rhaenyra as his heir

on the legality of claims of bastardry

alicent, criston, & daemon as rhaenyra's formative (abusive) influences

[feisty4ferret]

I need your help!!

Outside finishing up Reminding Me, I am currently drafting chapters for two other stories. And I am not sure which one to start with 😅

Story 1:

Memory loss and close proximity.

Summary:

Draco Malfoy didn’t ask to be assigned to protect Hermione Granger. She doesn’t remember their past—doesn’t remember anything, really—and the Ministry thinks he’s the best man for the job. Perhaps they’re right. Perhaps he’s just expendable.

They’re sent to an old Black family cottage, a place that breathes secrets and silence. As days pass and threats circle closer, Draco finds himself caught in a quiet war: between duty and desire, between who he was and who he’s becoming. And between the woman she was, and the version of her now looking at him like she sees something worth trusting.

But Hermione’s memory isn’t gone—it’s hiding. And when it comes back, it may unravel everything Draco has come to need. Including her.

• Memory loss • Slow Burn • Close Proximity • Hurt/Comfort • Angst with Happy Ending

Story 2:

A Dramione spin on the movie The Wedding Date.

Summary:

When Hermione Granger’s best friend Ginny Weasley is about to marry Harry Potter in the wizarding wedding of the decade, with her ex-fiance Dean Thomas as the best man, Hermione finds herself in a bind. To avoid meddling questions about her personal life from well-meaning friends and nosy relatives, she’s told everyone she’s dating someone seriously. The only problem? That someone doesn’t exist.

Faced with the prospect of showing up dateless to the wedding—and being hounded by matchmaking attempts—Hermione turns to an unlikely solution: hiring an escort to play her boyfriend. Enter Draco Malfoy, who, after the war, has reinvented himself as a discreet, high-end companion for witches and wizards in need of an impressive date for social events.

What starts as a simple business arrangement quickly spirals into a tangled web of chemistry, rivalry, and reluctant attraction.

• Rom-com • Humour • Fast burn • Mutual pining • Minor angst

[gunsatthaphan]

~ Monthly BL Breakdown: July 2023 ~  

🕶️ Happy August!!! 🌻

Disclaimer: ALL shows can be streamed here or here, as well as on Youtube and other platforms. For more info on where to watch what, check out this post!

New breakdowns are coming at the end of every month - feel free to add stuff!  -> previous breakdowns

What came out this month? (green = seen/currently watching)

🌟 Be Mine SuperStar - July 3rd (Thailand) ✅

🌟 Minato Shouji Coin Laundry Season 2 - July 5th (Japan)  

🌟 Stay by My Side - July 7th (Taiwan)

🌟 Stay With Me - July 7th (China, censored) 

🌟 Senior Love Me? (short film) - July 7th (Thailand) 

🌟 Low Frequency - July 8th (Thailand)

🌟 Hidden Agenda - July 9th (Thailand) ✅

🌟 Bump Up Business - July 9th (South Korea) 

🌟 Laws of Attraction - July 15th (Thailand)

🌟 The Star Season 2 - July 15th (Myanmar) 

🌟 Wedding Plan - July 19th (Thailand) ✅

🌟 After Sundown - July 20th (Thailand, cinema-release)

🌟 Jun and Jun - July 20th (South Korea)  

🌟 Monochrome (short film) - July 25th (Thailand) 

🌟 Papa, What Is Love? Season 2 - July 28th (Philippines) 

Monthly likes/dislikes

❣️ Be Mine Superstar - once in a while a trashy low budget show comes along and hits just the right spot - this is that show lmao. I was looking forward to seeing JaFirst again but I did not expect to like it this much lol. It’s ridiculous but the kind that makes me laugh a lot. JaFirst completely reversing their roles has me rolling and is working extremely well. Love Stage vibes all around. I love it so far. 

New series & movie announcements

🎥 Night Dream - Date TBA (Thailand) 

🎥 I Love You I Kill You (novel adaption) - Date TBA (Thailand) 

🎥 Beyond The Duo (short film) - Date TBA (Myanmar) 

🎥 UniverSad (novel adaption) - Date TBA (Thailand) 

🎥 Iridescent love - Date TBA (Thailand) 

🎥 Nai Hia Bok Mai Chop Dek - Date TBA (Thailand) 

🎥 The Hell Guards (Hey Don't Mess With My Heart) - Date TBA (Thailand) 

🎥 Even If I Try To Fall In Love With You (君となら恋をしてみても, manga adaption) - Date TBA (Japan) 

🎥 Wishing Upon the Shooting Stars - Date TBA (Taiwan) 

🎥 Bad Guy My Boss - Date TBA (Thailand) 

Other news from the BL world

❗️ The following BL productions & actors won at this year’s Asia Top Awards 2023:

Ohm Thitiwat: Best Actor (609 Bedtime Story)

Tar Atiwat: Rising Star (I Will Knock You)

PeeTitle: Popularity Award (La Pluie)

Gun Napat: Best Performance in a BL (Luminous Solution) 

Mew Suppasit: Best Serial Actor (Love Me Again) 

KinnPorsche: Most Popular BL Series

❗️ Former StarHunter actor Bas Suradet (2Moons, Gen Y) has joined Studio WabiSabi, along with 4 other new faces in their New Generation Lineup. 

❗️ The novel ไหนเฮียบอกไม่ชอบเด็ก will be adapted into a series by MFlow Entertainment. Auditions are currently being held. Further details are unknown. 

❗️ The upcoming GMMTV BL Cherry Magic released its pilot trailer after an 8 month delay due to copyright issues. Workshops are currently happening. The show will likely air in early 2024.  

❗️ GMMTV announced that GeminiFourth will no longer be part of the upcoming BL/GL drama 23.5 due to changes in storylines & characters. They have been replaced by View Benyapa and June Wanwimol who will play the roles of Aylin & Luna, making it a GL-only drama. Further cast additions include Ciize Rutricha and others. 

❗️ Actor Tul Pakorn (Together With Me, Manner of Death) announced his retirement from acting as he is pursuing a career in real estate in New York after getting his master’s degree. 

❗️ The upcoming Domundi BL Middleman's Love has started workshops. The show will likely air towards the end of the year. 

❗️ The Japanese BL Ossan's Love is rumored to get a third season which will likely premiere in January 2024. Further details are unknown. 

❗️ The Norwegian web series SKAM (2015-2017) will get a Korean adaption called Skam Korea. The series has a total of 7 remakes from 6 European countries + the US. Auditions are currently being held. 

❗️ GeminiFourth announced that they will be starring in another BL series which will be a novel adaption. Further details are unknown. 

Upcoming series & movies for August

👉🏻 Stay Still - August 1st (Hong Kong) 

👉🏻 Sing My Crush - August 2nd (South Korea) 

👉🏻 The New Employee (movie version) - August 3rd (South Korea) 

👉🏻 Love in Translation - August 5th (Thailand) 

👉🏻 My Personal Weatherman - August 11th (Japan) 

👉🏻 Love Class Season 2 - August 11th (South Korea) 

👉🏻 Only Friends - August 12th (Thailand) 

👉🏻 Friend. Boy Friend - August 19th (Thailand) 

👉🏻 Lucky Love - August 20th (Thailand) 

👉🏻 My Universe - August 20th (Thailand) 

👉🏻 Kiseki: Dear to Me - August 22nd (Taiwan) 

👉🏻 Why R U? Korean Remake - August 24th (South Korea) 

👉🏻 Crazy Handsome Rich - August TBA (Thailand) 

[cognitivejustice]

‘A couple of centuries ago, farmers produced multiple crops to feed their families and maybe put aside some surplus as a safeguard for the coming year. Only if they had an outstanding harvest were they able to sell some of their product,’ he explained.

‘Monoculture emerged as access to much larger distant markets made it increasingly profitable to specialise. Specialisation meant more efficient planting and harvesting, fewer types of expensive equipment, fewer labourers with specialised knowledge of individual crops, and strengthened knowledge of one value chain and commercial market, including all its regulations and tariffs,’ he added.

Farming, once one of the most natural of endeavours, has become ‘artificialised,’ claims Raul Zornoza Belmonte, an expert on sustainable land use and crop diversification and professor of agricultural engineering at Universidad Politécnica de Cartagena, Spain.

‘This globalised capital, chemical and energy-intensive sector is having a negative impact not only on the environment in terms of loss of biodiversity, soil health and greenhouse gas emissions but also on farm productivity and expenses,’ he explained.

Through the Diverfarming project, Zornoza and his team have tackled these challenges by creating a free web-based decision support tool to provide tailor-made solutions, and guidelines for diversified cropping systems. This app also includes a toolbox for adapting the different agricultural activities and even a new prototype of an improved machine for tilling the soil.

Diverfarming’s community of ‘diverfarmers’ implemented these tools and is now enjoying the benefits. ‘In vineyards and orchards, organic farmers have introduced herbs like thyme and oregano alongside or between the main crops. This has reduced the weeds and their expensive and time-consuming removal, and with the same labour, instead of weeds, farmers now have fresh-cut herbs that can be sold as they are or from which their essential oils can be extracted and sold,’ said Zornoza.

‘Aromatic herbs and their beautiful flowers attract beneficial insects – and potentially agritourists, a boon for rural tourism – while increasing soil quality and nutrients and enhancing water retention, and with no effect so far on the quality or production volume of fruits or wine,’ he added.

“ In vineyards and orchards, organic farmers have introduced herbs like thyme and oregano alongside or between the main crops. This has reduced the weeds and their expensive and time-consuming removal, and with the same labour, instead of weeds, farmers now have fresh-cut herbs that can be sold as they are or from which their essential oils can be extracted and sold.

But the advantages of growing different crops together don’t stop here, the practice can also limit erosion, improve the storage of soil carbon and reduce the amount of nitrogen in water. It also provides home to a much greater range of life both below the soil and above from tiny microbes and creepy crawlies to reptiles, birds and mammals.

[bliow]

AGARTHA Aİ - DEVASA+ (2)

In today’s digital landscape, a captivating and functional website is crucial for any business looking to thrive online. Full service web design encompasses a comprehensive approach, ensuring every aspect of your site is tailored to meet your unique needs. From the initial concept to the final launch, this service provides an array of offerings, including website service, responsive web design, and custom design services. Whether you’re a startup seeking to establish your brand or an established enterprise aiming to enhance your online presence, understanding the elements of full service web design is essential. 

Full service web design

Full service web design encompasses all aspects of creating a website, from initial conceptualization to ongoing maintenance. This approach ensures that every detail is carefully considered to meet the specific needs of a business or individual. With a team of experienced designers and developers, full service web design offers a seamless experience that integrates aesthetics, functionality, and user experience.

One of the key advantages of opting for a full service web design is the cohesion of the website elements. Since all parts of the project are managed by a single team, there is less chance for miscommunication or inconsistency in design. This results in a more polished final product that reflects the brand’s identity while providing an engaging experience for visitors.

Additionally, full service web design allows for customized solutions tailored to unique requirements. Whether you need an e-commerce platform, a portfolio site, or a blog, a full service provider will offer dedicated support and expert advice throughout the entire process, ensuring your vision comes to life exactly as you imagined.

Website service

In today's digital landscape, website service is essential for businesses to thrive and maintain an online presence. A well-structured website serves as a powerful tool that encourages customer engagement and drives sales. By investing in a comprehensive website service, businesses can ensure that their website not only looks great but also functions seamlessly across all devices.

A key aspect of website service is the ability to optimize for search engines. By implementing SEO best practices, businesses can enhance their visibility and attract more organic traffic. This is where a reliable website service provider plays a crucial role, as they possess the expertise and techniques necessary to elevate your search engine rankings.

Furthermore, ongoing support and maintenance are vital components of a reliable website service. As technology evolves and user needs change, having a team that can promptly address issues or updates will keep your website relevant and effective in reaching target audiences. This ongoing relationship is instrumental in achieving long-term success in the digital realm.

Responsive web design

Responsive web design is an essential aspect of modern web development that ensures a seamless user experience across a variety of devices. With the increasing use of smartphones and tablets, having a website that adapts to different screen sizes is not just a luxury but a necessity.

The core principle of responsive web design is fluidity. This means that the layout of your website adjusts dynamically based on the screen width, ensuring that content remains accessible and visually appealing regardless of the device used. This approach improves usability and can significantly boost conversion rates.

Incorporating responsive web design techniques involves using flexible grids, images, and CSS media queries. These elements work together to create a layout that responds gracefully to changes in screen size, making your website not only functional but also competitive in the digital marketplace.

Custom design services

In today's digital landscape, custom design services have emerged as a vital component of creating a strong online presence. Businesses understand that a one-size-fits-all approach does not cater to their unique needs and branding. Therefore, opting for custom design services allows them to differentiate themselves in a crowded market.

These services offer tailored solutions that resonate with a company's specifics, from colors to typography and layout. By leveraging custom design services, businesses can ensure that their websites not only reflect their brand identity but also provide an intuitive user experience. This is crucial for keeping visitors engaged and encouraging them to take the desired actions.

Investing in custom design services ultimately contributes to better customer satisfaction and improved conversion rates. With a website designed specifically for their target audience, businesses can more effectively communicate their message and achieve their goals. This bespoke approach is invaluable in today's competitive environment.

[hakones]

I . IV - of the creation of mairon's veil

PAIRING → mairon | sauron x female!elf!oc

WORD COUNT → 7.4k words

SERIES → of fatal attraction

WARNINGS → 18+ MDNI - fingering, oral (f receiving) 

SUMMARY → Their love was as old as the First Song, woven into the music meant only for the purest of creations. But when the darkness crept into the melody, sorrow and grief were stitched into their thread, and their love, though radiant for a time, was destined to end in ruin. Love turned obsession, honesty to deception, and purity to ruin. Love in the hands of the purest beings can blossom, but in the hands of shadow it can be a chain one can never truly escape.

masterlist

When they brought him forth, still bound in the chains wrought by Aulë’s own forging, the shadow clung to him like a living thing, twisting, writhing, seeking to shield him from the brilliance of the Two Trees.

The light burned him. Even with all his might turned inward, even as he cloaked himself in feigned humility, it seared his very being.

Yet Melkor stood tall.

Proud even in disgrace, hatred and envy festering in every fiber of his fëa as he beheld the assembled host, those paragons of righteousness, those self-anointed keepers of the Song’s harmony. It sickened him. It enraged him. But ever the deceiver he had been from the beginning, Melkor hid the roiling fire beneath a mask of grace, a counterfeit humility so finely crafted that even the wisest among them faltered.

He knelt. He bowed. He spoke words of mercy and repentance.

And Manwë, in his endless hope, in his endless love for the lost brother he still mourned, believed him. The chains fell away. The power, once bound tightly by the will of the Valar, surged back toward him, sluggish and weak, but flowing nonetheless. It filled the hollow spaces within him, seeking to restore what had been shackled.

But when Melkor reached out across the unseen cords of allegiance and domination, reached out to his most faithful servant, his herald and forgemaster, he found only silence. Where there should have been servitude, there was emptiness. Where there should have been loyal thought, there was a closed door.

Worse, there was joy. A brightness that recoiled from his touch.

Mairon. His greatest creation. Was now his greatest disappointment.

He could feel it, the crackling, tenuous shield Mairon had thrown up between them. A feeble thing in the grand reckoning, but enough to stall him now, weakened as he was. It would not hold forever.

No.

Melkor was patient. And he was cunning. He would bide his time, weaving himself once again into the fabric of Valinor, lulling the Valar into their false security. And when the time came, when Mairon’s defenses faltered, when the weight of love and loss and fear bore down upon him as they always did; he would reach in. He would pry open the door. And his faithful lieutenant, the bearer of flame and order, the architect of the most beautiful devastations the world had ever known, would come willingly.

Just as he always had. Or perhaps, Melkor mused, he would not wait at all. Perhaps he would seek out this source of joy himself, the one thing strong enough to make his once-faithful lieutenant turn traitor, and crush it beneath his might.

But first, other matters called to him.

First, he would reweave his webs among the Valar, sowing discord with the patience of the ancient hunter he had always been. And when the moment was ripe, when Mairon was left hollow and staggering beneath the weight of inevitable grief, Melkor would strike.

He would offer what he had always offered—solutions. Answers whispered in the dark, honeyed promises wrapped in venom. For Melkor was a master of such gifts. He could see into the cracks of even the strongest fëa, find the fear they tried to hide, the longing they dared not speak, and offer them a means to master it.

Control it. Be consumed by it. And Mairon, for all his strength, for all his brilliance, was no different. No soul was.

Melkor chuckled quietly to himself as he strode from the Ring of Doom, a freed being once more, the light of the Two Trees casting long, twisted shadows at his back.

He had time. He had certainty.

For in the end, all secrets wither in the darkness, and his servant's secret would be no exception.

As Manwë watched Melkor’s figure vanish into the silvered mists of Valinor, he turned at last to Varda, who sat stoically beside him, her eyes fixed on the far horizon where no mortal or immortal sight could yet perceive the true breadth of what had been unleashed. Her hand, cool and steady, reached out to rest lightly atop his, a silent comfort to the storm brewing in his heart. For she knew the weight of what they had just pardoned.

It was Tulkas who broke the strained silence first, his voice low and brimming with barely contained anger.

"We shall just pardon him," he muttered, "and let him walk freely among us?"

Manwë turned his head, meeting the fierce gaze of the Vala of Strength with a composure he barely felt.

"He will not walk freely," Manwë said, his voice quiet but firm. "And we must trust in my brother’s intent."

A harsh snort echoed through the chamber. It was Ulmo this time, voice cold as the deeps of the sea. "Trust in his intent?" Ulmo repeated, incredulous. "You have grown soft in your love for him. Kinship clouds your vision, Manwë. You see the brother you once knew, not the creature he has become."

He paused, the silence sharpening.

"He is a deceiver," Ulmo said finally. "One who weaves grandeur into venom and beauty into ruin."

Manwë closed his eyes briefly, the truth of the words cutting deeper than he would admit. He knew. He had always known. Melkor had once been great, great beyond measure. But he had never understood love, never embraced the harmony of the Song. He had envied it instead, clawed at it, sought to master what should have been cherished.

And now?

Now he could only hope, hope that somewhere, some fragment of that ancient light yet remained, enough to choose differently this time. Enough to spare Arda the agony of another fall.

The gathering slowly dispersed, the Valar rising one by one from their thrones in the Ring of Doom, their faces closed and grim. Only Varda and Yavanna remained with him, their concern written plain in the tightening lines around their mouths. Yavanna spoke first, voice hushed but urgent.

"Shall one of us go to her?" she asked, meaning Ilmarátâ whose very existence had been woven into this fragile tapestry. "Surely he will know. Surely he will seek her out."

Manwë raised a hand, stopping her words.

"We must trust in Eru’s design," he said gravely. "Even if Melkor seeks to twist it to his ends." He paused, weighing his next words carefully.

"We must trust in the Maia’s strength, trust that the flame of light he has reclaimed will not be so easily extinguished. Ilmarátâ will guide him, as she was always meant to."

Still, Yavanna’s worry hung heavy in the air. Manwë turned to Varda, his beloved, whose light had given hope even in the dark depths of the world.

"If it would comfort you," he said gently, "my wife will go to her. She will speak to her heart, but not reveal too much. For it is not in our place to disrupt Eru’s weaving."

Varda rose gracefully, the faint shimmer of her power stirring the very air. She placed a hand against Manwë’s cheek, smiling with that quiet, boundless wisdom that only she possessed.

"I will do as you ask, my dear husband," she said. "For I wish only to protect what is most precious. The Eldar are wondrous indeed, the very images of Eru’s thought made flesh. I will see that their light endures, no matter how long the night."

Her words soothed Yavanna’s troubled heart and bolstered Manwë’s fragile hope, if only for a moment. But as Varda turned and walked away into the halls of Valmar, the faint, unsettling certainty gnawed at the corners of Manwë’s mind—that the first blow had already been struck.

And no hand, not even that of the Elder King himself, could stop the storm now gathering over Arda.

Globûrz. Ish globûrz-ob. Nazg��lûkû, dûmpatûrz-ob? Servant. Oh servant of my mine. Why do you push away my consul?

Mairon's head lifted sharply from the parchment before him, the charcoal stylus slipping from his fingers and rolling unnoticed across the scattered drawings. The forge’s soft, steady glow faltered. The flames of the candles guttered and hissed, casting long, convulsing shadows that crept across the stone walls like grasping hands.

The room tightened around him, the air thick and suffocating. He rose slowly from his stool, every nerve strung taut, as if awaiting a blow he could not see. There had been no sound, no physical noise, but he had felt it. Heard it in the deep places of his mind. A whisper, dark and cold as the void beyond the stars. A voice he knew. A voice he had sworn he would never heed again.

But it had found him.

He turned, scanning the forge with a gaze sharp enough to cut steel, but found nothing. Only the flicker of the forgefire, only the restless dance of the shadows. Still, the echo of that voice coiled around him like mist, sinking into the cracks of his fëa where weariness had made him vulnerable. He clenched his jaw, willing his heartbeat to steady, willing the fear not to show on his face.

Because he knew, the weariness brought on by Moríel’s pregnancy, the slow siphoning of his strength to nurture the new life growing within her, had weakened him. Had thinned the shields he had erected so carefully over long years of light and labor.

And through that thinness, Melkor had found a crack. A whisper of a crack, but enough. Enough for his master’s voice, sickly sweet, terrible in its familiarity to slip through. No other words followed. No command. No summons. Only the reminder.

You are not free.

Mairon forced his body back to the stool, forced his trembling hands to still. He bent again over the plans for the new forge, feigning focus, willing himself into calm as the flames steadied once more and the shadows slithered back into their proper corners.

But outward calm meant nothing to the war raging inside him. He was afraid. More deeply, more truly, than he had been since the moment he first set foot on the path of darkness.

If Melkor’s voice could reach him here, even faintly, it meant the bond between them was not truly broken. It meant that Melian’s warnings had not been mere suspicion. It meant that part of him, however small, however buried, still answered to the shadow.

And worse...

If Melkor had found the crack, how long before he pried it wide open?

Mairon pressed a hand flat against the worktable, grounding himself in the solidity of the wood beneath his fingers.

I am not his, he told himself. I chose another path. But the voice, the memory, the poisoned thread lingering in his fëa whispered otherwise.

For he had once walked so easily into the arms of the dark being, so easily, so willingly, with nothing to lose but a place in Aman and a hollow name whispered among the stars. But here and now, it was different. Now he had everything to lose.

Moríel.

Their son.

The home they had built with such care, stone by stone, song by song, dream by dream. Everything he had fought for since turning his face away from the shadow would come crumbling down around him if he faltered.

Just as Melian had warned.

Stop it, he commanded himself harshly, raking trembling fingers through his copper hair, pushing the heavy strands away from his face. The anger simmered beneath his skin, hot and sharp. Anger at Melkor. Anger at Melian.

But most of all, anger at himself.

For believing her. For letting her words fester like a slow poison in his mind. For doubting, even for a heartbeat, that he was capable of true love. Of light. Because to be broken by Melkor, to be bent beneath that will, was to be tainted forever. Was that not what she had implied? That he could never love without seeking dominion? That he could never truly see light again without twisting it to serve his own ends?

He gritted his teeth, fists clenching against the worktable.

No.

He would not accept it. He had always cherished beauty and harmony, had been born from the Song itself to treasure them, to weave them into the fabric of the world. That had been his truest nature, long before Melkor's lies had chained him.

And now he wished only to create beauty and peace again, not for pride, not for glory, but for the quiet, simple future he had once thought beyond him. For the child growing in Moríel’s womb. For the laughter he dreamed of hearing echoing down these halls. For the small, chubby hands that would grasp his fingers. For the bright eyes that would never know the name Melkor, only the pride and wonder of a father who had built a sanctuary of light for him.

That, he thought fiercely, is my redemption. Not through conquest. Not through power.

Through love. Through devotion. Through creation.

Mairon drew a slow, steadying breath, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes until the darkness faded from his vision, forcing the roiling emotions back into the deepest corners of his fëa. The bond to Melkor, the crack in his armor, it might exist. But it did not define him. Not anymore. He would guard what was his. Even from himself.

Especially from himself.

He slid the parchment into a neat pile, setting it aside for when he would have the time and clarity to devote to it again. Rising from his stool, Mairon moved about the forge, extinguishing each flame with methodical care until the room fell into a deep, restful darkness.

Stepping out into the corridors of Laureandor, he walked slowly, his steps unhurried, as though savoring the peace of the night. As he moved, the soft petals of night-blooming flowers brushed against his fingertips and opened to his touch, a quiet, living testament to the life and beauty Moríel had brought into this place. Into him.

A smile tugged at his lips, warm and fleeting, as he thought of her, his shining light, his salvation.

Servants stepped aside respectfully or bowed their heads as he passed, the presence of their lord felt long before he reached them. Yet when Alassëa tried to pass him with arms full of white gossamer fabric, the dress Moríel had worn earlier, he reached out and touched her lightly on the shoulder.

The young handmaiden turned at once, curtsying gracefully.

"My lord," she greeted calmly.

"Is she asleep?" he asked, voice soft but edged with an urgency he could not quite hide.

Alassëa shook her head. "She is bathing," she replied, shifting the delicate fabric in her arms.

"Thank you, Alassëa," he murmured, already moving toward the chamber door. "See that we are not disturbed."

"Of course, my lord," she said, dipping another curtsey. He caught the faint blush that colored her cheeks at the implication behind his words, but thought nothing of it.

He reached the heavy wooden door, opened it, and stepped inside. At once he was enveloped by her scent, floral, sweet, and rich, like ripe summer fruit kissed by golden sun. But even stronger was the sound.

Her song.

A lullaby in Quenya, each word a tender caress shaped with such perfect artistry that even his ancient spirit was lulled by its music.

The room had already been prepared for sleep. The hearthfire bathed the chamber in a soft, golden warmth. The plush sheets of their bed had been turned down, and the gossamer curtains drawn back to welcome them. Their nightclothes, simple and fine, had been laid carefully atop the bed. Everywhere, her presence sang out to him. In the tender touches of order, in the softness, in the light.

He crossed the room silently, drawn by her voice, until he stood at the archway that led into the adjoining bath. There he paused. And listened.

The melody wrapped around him like a gentle tide, calming the lingering turmoil within his fëa, washing away the dark remnants of doubt and fear. His heart eased in his chest, the shadows in his mind retreating before the brilliance of her love. Long had he forgotten the weight that had pressed down upon him mere hours before.

For Moríel, and all the divine light that clung to her soul, could banish even the darkest of shadows from a broken heart. And in her presence, Mairon found the strength to be whole again.

He finally stepped through the archway, drawn by the soft glow and the scent of warmed oils and water. And there she was.

Amongst the glistening waters, Moríel sat, her fingers gently caressing the slight swell of her stomach now just beginning to rise above the surface. Her head was turned toward the open window, sheer curtains billowing softly in the night breeze as she watched the stars, her voice threading the air with a lullaby so sweet it could have stilled the very winds themselves. Her black hair clung in shimmering wet strands to her shoulders and back, catching the light of the candles scattered around the room like a thousand tiny stars fallen to earth.

Mairon felt the breath catch in his throat at the sight. A part of him, one he could barely voice even within the quiet sanctum of his own heart, wished to kneel at her feet, like a man brought before a goddess, and offer her every piece of himself in worship. Because that was what she deserved. And that was what he would give her, until the breaking of this world and beyond.

"Mairon," she whispered, turning her head at last to truly see him.

The sound of his name on her lips was a benediction. He shook his head lightly, clearing the sudden, overwhelming rush of emotion that threatened to undo him, and crossed the remaining distance. He knelt beside the bath, reaching out to her instinctively. She leaned forward, water dripping from her fingers, and placed her hand gently beneath his chin, guiding him up into a soft, tender kiss.

He answered with a fierceness born of longing, deepening it almost at once, pulling a small whimper from her as she melted into him. It had been so long since they had allowed themselves to feel this way, unburdened, untethered by fear or duty.

And Moríel welcomed him, meeting his passion with her own, giving and taking in equal measure. Mairon's hand slipped beneath the water, caressing the gentle curve of her stomach with reverent fingers, feeling the pulse of life they had created together thrum beneath his touch.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing a little heavier, Moríel looked into his eyes, those glistening blue-green eyes that now sparkled like the finest of jewels that rested around their necks, clear and alive and utterly consumed by her.

Her bottom lip caught between her teeth, she smiled shyly.

"It's been a while," she breathed, her voice a low, teasing whisper.

Mairon smiled in return, a playful gleam lighting his gaze.

"Too long," he agreed, his hand rising from the water to cup her cheek, thumb brushing against the soft, flushed skin. "How about," he said, his voice dropping into a rough, honeyed tone, "we remedy that?"

Moríel giggled softly, the sound like silver bells in the stillness. She tilted her face into his hand, closing her eyes briefly, savoring his touch. So gentle, so full of love. And in that moment, there was no shadow. No prophecy. No fear. Only the two of them, and the promise of a love stronger than darkness, stronger than despair.

Moríel tilted her head back and took his hand as he helped her rise from the glistening waters. He wrapped her gently in a thick, soft towel, his touch careful, reverent, as if she were something sacred he dared not bruise.

Once she was dry, she leaned into him, seeking his warmth, her lips finding his once more. She melted into him with a sigh, her body molding perfectly against his as his hands found her hips, guiding her across the room. She sat at the edge of their bed, her thighs parting to welcome him to her altar.

And Mairon knelt before her without hesitation, lowering himself with a devotion that was deeper than worship. His hands slid up her bare legs, slow and steady, his lips following the path of his fingers, pressing kisses against the gentle skin that burned so sweetly under his touch.

Here, now, there was nothing that could rival her. No star, no jewel, no song sung at the dawn of the world could eclipse the beauty of Moríel laid bare to him.

Her fingers threaded through his coppery hair, pulling lightly, guiding him closer, needing him just as fiercely as he needed her. He smiled against her skin. For he was the musician, and she was the instrument of divinity he had been born to play. His fingers found her first, delicate and skilled, drawing out soft, broken whimpers from her parted lips. His mouth followed soon after, worshipping her in slow, languid strokes as if crafting a song made only for them.

Moríel's head fell back, a hand bracing behind her to keep her upright as her hips began to roll in slow, instinctive motions against his mouth.

"Mairon…" she whimpered, the plea barely a breath, a sound so full of longing it cracked his heart wide open.

He slowed in response, savoring her, coaxing her closer with each flick and caress, her divinity thrumming against his fëa, feeding the bond that sang between them louder and louder. The room pulsed with their passion, the ebb and flow of pleasure saturating the air, a tide neither could nor wished to resist. Her fingers gripped tighter in his hair as his movements grew more deliberate, plucking at her with the perfect, unbearable precision only he could command.

Until at last her body trembled, her cries filling the warmth of the chamber, a song of bliss and surrender and pure, unfiltered love. Mairon held her through it, savoring the feel of her unraveling beneath him, knowing that in this moment there was no darkness, only light, only them, only the sacred beauty of their bond.

Moríel's thumb traced gently along the sharp line of his cheekbone, soft and slow, as his hand smoothed over the bare curve of her stomach. She leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to the light sprinkling of freckles that dusted the bridge of his nose and beneath his eyes, marks of a life lived long and far beyond the grasp of Arda’s young lands.

Mairon chuckled low in his chest, the sound vibrating softly against her, and caught her lips before she could pull away. The kiss was slow, sensual, far more languid than the fevered passion they had shared earlier. His hand cradled her stomach, warm and protective, as if shielding both her and the life growing within her.

Just as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, he felt it. A heavy thud against his palm. They broke apart instantly, both glancing downward in astonishment. For a moment, there was only stillness, the crackling of the hearth filling the room. And then another thud, stronger this time, pressing against Mairon's hand. Their eyes met, wide and bright with wonder. Moríel giggled, a sound so light and pure it made his heart clench with joy.

"That's new," she breathed against his lips, her voice filled with awe and laughter. "Showing off for your Ada, are you?" she whispered sweetly, the Quenya word slipping from her lips with such ease, such tenderness, that Mairon felt himself shudder.

Father.

He had many names across the ages—Smith, Maia, Betrayer. But none... none filled him with the peace and reverence that this simple word gave him now.

His hand pressed more firmly against her belly, as if willing the connection even deeper, feeling the undeniable proof of their love stirring beneath his palm.

"Have you thought of names?" he asked softly, almost not daring to break the fragile sanctity of the moment. Moríel looked up at him, her face alight with a beauty so profound it stole the breath from his lungs.

"Calion," she breathed, the name wrapping itself around him like a blessing.

Son of Light.

Mairon swallowed thickly against the rising tide of emotion.

"Or Lómion," she continued, smiling, "it is—"

But he stopped her with a kiss. Startled, she gasped softly against his mouth before cupping his face and melting into him, the two of them clinging to this shared, perfect moment.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers, their breath mingling in the warm air.

"Calion," he repeated, voice thick with emotion.

In that moment, he silently vowed he would move mountains, rewrite the very fate Eru had woven, if it meant protecting what they had created together. The room shimmered faintly around them, their fëar singing in perfect resonance. The light he had once forsaken now flowed freely from him, filling the space, touching the walls, the bed, the air with a magic so pure it was almost blinding.

Once he had used his gifts to forge destruction and dominion. Now, he used them to weave love and life. And as Moríel leaned back into him, hand still cradling their son as he wrapped them in the warmth of the blankets. And he knew, deeply in that moment what he had found here and with her, aligned with his love of harmony, order, and beauty.

And they slipped into dreams. Dreams of a life they knew would always be theirs.

After what felt like only mere moments for her, Moríel stirred softly from slumber. She blinked into the darkness, finding nothing amiss at first, only the soft starlight pouring through the open arches, the comforting weight of Mairon's arm draped around her, his hand resting possessively over the curve of her stomach. The gentle puff of his breathing against the back of her neck grounded her. But something pricked at her senses. Something faint, insistent, pulling her toward the balcony.

Carefully, she shifted, easing herself from beneath Mairon's arm without waking him. His face remained serene in sleep, untroubled, a sight she treasured more than she could say. Wrapping her robe around her shoulders, she padded barefoot across the room toward the open arches. The night air was cool and fragrant, carrying the scent of the flowers that always bloomed for her. She stepped onto the balcony and felt it instantly. The stars above blazed differently tonight. Not as distant sentinels, but as companions. As witnesses.

"Beautiful, are they not?" said a soft, melodious voice beside her.

Moríel spun around, heart leaping to her throat.

Standing a few paces away, bathed in the starlight, was a woman. Her hair shimmered white as the stars themselves, and her eyes, crystalline blue, so a kin to Moríel’s own, shone with a depth that seemed to see through time and song alike. Panic flared in Moríel’s chest, but it faded quickly. No ill will flowed from the being before her. Only light. Only reverence.

"They are," Moríel said quietly, recovering herself. "They always have been."

The woman turned her gaze toward the bed, toward Mairon’s sleeping form. A soft, knowing smile crossed her lips as if she were seeing a beloved child long separated by ages of sorrow.

"Who are you?" Moríel asked, instinctively cradling her stomach, though she sensed no danger.

The woman smiled gently and bowed her head.

"I have watched over you since the moment you awoke," she said. "A quiet guardian, guiding you, weaving wisdom into your path so you could be his. So you could nurture each other, and heal what was broken."

She paused, glancing once more at Mairon.

"In your tongue," she said at last, "I am called Varda."

The breath fled Moríel’s lungs. Varda. The Lady of the Stars. The Queen of the Valar. She moved instinctively to curtsy, but Varda reached out with a small, graceful gesture, halting her.

"In your condition," she said kindly, "formality is not needed."

Her fingers brushed Moríel’s chin, lifting it gently.

"You truly are of Eru’s design," Varda whispered. "I see it in your eyes, in your fëa. One so pure it can banish even the deepest corners of shadow."

Tears pricked at Moríel’s eyes at the reverence in the Vala's voice. To be so seen, so blessed—it was a weight and a joy beyond any song she could sing.

"You and your beloved have built a beauty here that even we marvel at," Varda continued. "Under the stars, you have created life, hope, sanctuary. This child..." She placed her hand upon Moríel’s belly, and the babe stirred, responding to the divine touch. "...is a gift of Eru himself. Cherish and protect him always."

"He is protected, my lady," Moríel affirmed, lifting her chin. "He has his father. He has this realm."

Varda nodded solemnly.

"But shadows are rising," she said, her voice soft but unyielding. "And you must look to the light you share. Trust only in each other, so that your son will know only devotion and love, unmarred by darkness. Let no bitterness root in your heart, for if it does, it will be a poison not easily undone."

Moríel swallowed hard and nodded.

"I will do as you ask," she vowed, voice steady.

Varda smiled, radiant and warm.

"What name have you chosen for him?"

Knowing how sacred names were, Moríel answered without hesitation, though her voice trembled slightly.

"Calion," she said.

Varda’s smile deepened, and the stars above seemed to shimmer in response. "Then so he shall be known to us as Calion Ancalimë—the most radiant one, protected under my stars."

She placed her hand once more on Moríel’s stomach, blessing the child with a light that pulsed so softly, so sweetly, that Moríel could barely breathe.

"Thank you," Moríel whispered, overwhelmed.

Varda waved her off gently. "Love him. Love each other. That is all we ask."

"And know," she added, brushing a kiss to Moríel’s forehead, "that Yavanna and I will ever be watching, ever guiding you."

A soft breeze stirred the air, and when Moríel opened her eyes again, Varda was gone. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks as she lifted her gaze to the stars above, now burning with a brilliance she had never before seen. She was not alone. She had never been alone. And that comforted her in ways she never thought possible.

"Morí?" came a soft voice behind her, laced with sleep.

She turned to see Mairon standing in the archway, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his hair tousled, his chest bare. Something deep inside her told her to keep the meeting with Varda close to her heart, for now. She crossed the balcony to him, wrapping her arms around him fiercely. He stiffened for only a moment before holding her tightly.

"What’s wrong?" he murmured, feeling the dampness of her cheeks.

"Nothing," she whispered into his chest. "Nothing at all." She tilted her head, chin on his chest, and gazed up at him in the starlight. "I just needed you to know…I love you. I always will. Until the breaking of this world and beyond."

Mairon brushed a few strands of hair from her face, his palm lingering against her cheek. "And I love you with all that I am," he said, voice rough with emotion. "And when this world is unmade and remade, I will find you again. And I will worship you as the divine being you are."

He leaned in and sealed his vow with a kiss so deep, so consuming, that it stole the breath from her lungs. And in that moment, beneath the watchful light of the stars, Moríel knew:

Nothing could part them. Nothing could steal the light they had forged together.

For they were blessed.

And blessings such as these were not given lightly.

When the first stirrings of darkness crept across the land, Mairon felt it in his bones. Not a whisper, not a warning, no, it was something ancient and heavy, crawling up from the cracks of the earth. A familiar dissonance in the Song. The creatures stirred in the eastern wilds and grew bolder with each passing moon, no longer hiding in shadow but testing boundaries, sniffing at the edges of Laureandor as if drawn by a forgotten scent.

And Mairon, still attuned to them, still bound by the echoes of a past he had tried so desperately to silence, knew. Beleriand would never be the same again.

He stood in his workshop, sleeves rolled to the elbow, dark ink staining his fingers. At his table, a new design bloomed on the parchment, a pattern of power not seen in any elvish script. It was not for beauty. It was for protection. He barely noticed her until the soft sweep of fingers ran across his shoulders, her touch warm and grounding. Her hands slid over his chest, her lips pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear, right at the pointed tip, and a shiver ran down his spine. Still, he did not turn. He simply smiled, amused and comforted by her nearness, and returned to his task.

"What are you working on?" Moríel asked, her voice low, close to his ear, eyes scanning the design over his shoulder.

He set the quill down and leaned slightly into her touch.

"A protection," he said. "Something more than walls and guards. The creatures are growing restless. The darkness stirs and I will not let it reach you." His gaze dropped to her stomach, now full and heavy, the life inside pressing against her skin in restless motion. She winced softly at a particularly sharp kick, but her smile held. "And him," he added, pressing a kiss to her rounded belly. The child kicked again, as if in answer. Mairon chuckled quietly, his hand splayed over the movement.

The moonstone at her neck glimmered faintly, reacting to the child’s life, to the presence of its father’s fëa so close. It pulsed not only with his craft, but with a light beyond even his making, a blessing.

"And how will you do this?" she asked, easing herself into the chair beside him, her movements slow and labored. Mairon pushed the parchment across to her. The lines formed a spiral of beauty and control, inscribed with runes older than Quenya, older than even the earliest dawns of Arda.

"I’ll weave a barrier across the outer hills. It will cloak Laureandor, wrapping the city in a veil of light and illusion. To intruders it will feel like stepping into a field of poppies. They’ll wander... and they’ll sleep. Eternal sleep, gentle and without pain. And only I will be able to guide one safely through, if I will it."

Moríel looked down at the design, her hand rising to touch his cheek, her thumb brushing gently against his temple.

"I never want you to know hurt," he whispered, tears bright in his eyes. "And I never want our son to live in fear of what may darken this world. You’ve given us so much. This love, this home. You’ve given him the chance to be born into a light unmatched."

Her lips touched the tear that had slipped down his cheek.

"And because of that, I will make sure he only ever knows what it means to be loved, and safe." he said. Mairon rested his forehead against hers, the heat of emotion folding over him. His hand reached up to rest against the moonstone she wore, his creation, infused with his light. A living piece of his fëa bound to hers.

The flame-colored jewel around his own neck pulsed in response. Moríel placed her hand over it, her light touching his, awakening it. And in that moment, the shadows within him receded. They were destined. They were divine. They were blessed. And whatever storm may rise beyond the hills of Laureandor, whatever hand of vengeance stirred in the dark, it would never pass the walls he had built around her.

Because Mairon no longer crafted for glory. He forged for love. And that, above all else, was unbreakable.

When the barrier was made, and Mairon wove the final note into the earth with trembling hands, the very stars themselves seemed to lean in. The skies blazed silver and blue above Laureandor, and Moríel, watching from the high walls of their home, knew.

Varda, her guardian, her guide, was pleased. For it was not simply power that Mairon had used to shape the veil that now cloaked their realm. It was not might or dominion or will. It was love.

Sacrifice.

He poured the last of his strength into it, a final gift born of devotion, not to his old master, not to the song of order or fire, but to her, to their son, to the life they had built.

Withevery swell of harmony born of goodness, he wove a piece of himself into the barrier. A thread of his fëa. A tether so deep that it bound him to Arda unlike any Maia had ever dared before. Not by mandate or doom, but by love freely given. It would hold him here long after his form faded, long after memory tried to dim what they had made.

When it was done, when the last note was sung into the fabric of the land, Mairon stood quiet, the wind brushing through his copper hair like a farewell. And then he collapsed. The light flickered around him as his fana, so carefully crafted, began to shimmer at the edges, his spirit fighting to remain bound in form, strained to its limits.

He had created this body for her. Forged every line, every feature, every piece of himself in reflection of her light, so that when she looked at him, she would not see a servant of flame, but a bearer of warmth. So that he could walk in the sun beside her. So that he could be worthy of the divine thing she was.

Moríel reached him before the guards could. She knelt beside his collapsed form, gathering his head into her lap, the barrier still glowing faintly in the distance, a soft pulse in the fabric of the air, before dimming into an invisable shield. His skin was pale, luminous in the starlight, sweat lining his brow. But he breathed. Slowly. Steadily.

"Mairon," she whispered, brushing damp strands from his forehead. Her voice cracked.

His eyes fluttered open, dim but still the color of sea-foam and starlight. He smiled weakly, his fingers twitching to find hers.

"I’m here," he murmured. "I’ll always be here… even if I can’t… always rise to meet you."

Tears welled in her eyes, spilling silently down her cheeks as she cradled him. Around them, the air was still. The very land seemed to hush in reverence.

"You did it," she whispered.

"For you," he said, barely audible. "For him."

She leaned down and kissed his lips, soft and lingering, anchoring him once more to the world.

"You are not done," she said firmly. "Not yet. You’re not allowed to leave me with all this beauty you’ve built."

He smiled again, eyes falling closed. And above them, the stars shone ever brighter, witness to a sacrifice born not of doom, but of love strong enough to rewrite the fates.

Mairon’s head turned sharply, breath catching as if fleeing something unseen. His brow furrowed in strain, and soft groans escaped him as he twisted beneath the linens. Moríel was already at his side, kneeling beside the low bed where she had stayed every moment since he had collapsed. She pressed a cool cloth gently to his fevered skin, her other hand smoothing along his cheek with practiced tenderness. His eyes flew open with a sudden gasp, wild with disorientation until they landed on her. The fear bled from him at once.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice like a lullaby brushing against his raw nerves. “I’m here.”

He blinked again, slower this time, breath evening out as he stared up at her. Slowly, a soft, strained smile ghosted across his lips.

"You did it," she murmured, her own smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, eyes brimming with tears that hadn’t yet fallen. Relief, love, and awe all blurred together.

He swallowed, hard, and took her hand in his. His fingers trembled, but the grip was there, warm and sure.

“Whatever happens next,” he said, voice hoarse, almost a rasp, “never forget that I love you.”

His thumb grazed hers. “And our son… with every fiber of my being.”

Moríel stilled. A flicker of confusion passed through her expression. Why was he saying this now? What darkness still clung to him that made such words sound like a farewell?

“Of course,” she whispered, stroking the hair from his damp forehead. “Is something wrong?”

He didn’t answer. Not directly. His gaze roamed her face as if memorizing every part of it, and then he lifted his hand, slowly, reverently, to cup her cheek.

“Varda’s stars shine in your eyes,” he breathed. “I hope they shine in his as well.”

A soft blush touched her cheeks at the mention of their son, at the quiet reverence in his tone. “They will,” she said softly, pressing her hand over his. “Because he is born of love.”

Mairon smiled again, tired, but peaceful. Her presence was enough to anchor him. To keep the fraying edge of his spirit from unraveling further.

“Rest,” she whispered, lowering her lips to his forehead and placing a kiss so gentle it barely touched skin. “You need to build your strength.”

And with that, his fana softened, the tension in his limbs fading, his breath deepening. His hand stayed in hers even as he drifted back into sleep, this time, not torn by pain, but soothed by the truth of her love. Moríel sat back beside him and watched over him, hand resting over the stone at her heart.

Outside the walls of Laureandor, the veil pulsed softly in the hills, alive with his power, his protection. But here, in this room of flickering candlelight and sacred quiet, his truest strength lived in the space between their joined hands.

But beyond the veil, where sage blossoms faded into mist and the hills grew quiet and strange, something stirred. Darkness, patient and cold, crept like oil through the cracks of the world.

Just past the edges of Laureandor’s woven light, the shadows crawled along the barrier’s edge. Unseen by most. Felt only by the stars that dimmed slightly when they passed. The barrier held, its light pure, its weaving complex and born of sacrifice. It hummed with the heartbeat of Mairon’s fëa, pulsed with his purpose, deflecting all who were not welcomed, lulling the minds of intruders into confusion and sleep.

But it was not unbreakable.

For while it had been forged by the greatest of the Maia, with every intention of love, it had not been made to withstand the will of a Vala.

And Melkor, freed now by folly and blinded mercy, was not idle.

He had watched the veil shimmer in the distance, cloaking the land that called to something deep and primal in him. He felt the thread that tied Mairon to that place. He felt the warmth that dared defy him, the light that once bent to his order now turned against it. It sickened him. It enraged him. That a creation of his Maia, his servant, would dare bind himself to a woman, to a child, to something as fragile as hope.

Melkor did not rage openly. No, he was far beyond petty wrath. He would unmake it. All of it. Every inch of the golden land Mairon had crafted. Every thread of love he had dared to weave into Arda. Every stolen moment of joy. And if he had to rend Mairon down to the raw flame beneath his flesh, peel away the flesh of his fana, and tear out the song of his soul one note at a time, he would.

This time, there would be no mercy. Not for the traitor. Not for the woman who turned him against him. Not for the child born of defiance. Melkor smiled, though there was no light in it. Only teeth. Only ruin. And the shadows that crawled along the edge of Laureandor thickened in response.

"Let us play then, Mairon,"