#Data Mining Project Help

[eclecticsophism]

a studyblr/gradblr offering -- a section of my Zettelkasten for my MA thesis?

[thebeckybear]

10,000 words into my PhD, with what I thought was a clear define method, questions, aims and strategies.

Only for my supervisors to tell me it's not good.

[galahadenough]

Svsss but instead of dying they switch worlds whenever they sleep.

-Shang Qinghua would have such a successful inter dimensional version of a money laundering seeing scheme going if he weren’t frantically trying to figure out how to survive PIDW on top of not starving now

-Shang Qinghua hates needing to scour his own work for clues on how to survive (he hates seeing what he was forced to make instead of the passion project it started as) and is thrilled when he can outsource the data mining (sqq already had spreadsheets on top of his fucking weirdly specific memory for random helpful details)

-Shen Qingqiu bullies sqh into posting “correct” info online about his lovely disciples (they totally read like he wrote them at gunpoint and the fandom is wondering if they need to stage a rescue. Plus they are such weirdly casual and personal details)

-Luo Binghe slowly catches on to the fact that sqq (and sqh) go somewhere together every night and is insanely jealous and confused and utterly determined to figure out where.

[kangnoeulsdoll]

Behind Closed Screens.

OF user!Se-mi x fem!reader

𐙚₊˚🪷⊹ ᰔ

synopsis: When you discover Se-mi’s secret OnlyFans account, your world shifts.

word count: 836

a/n: my next fic is definitely gonna be either Nana Osaki or Kang No-Eul :3

warning(s): suggestive

Your first clue was the late nights. Se-mi used to disappear into her office, shut the door for her job, and would not be heard from for hours. You'd imagined she was working on something important—a project at the office or one of her endlessly creative side interests she didn't actually share so often.

But now, as you "picked up" after her, you found out the truth.

Her laptop was on, the screen buzzing with a soft glow, displaying a website that made your heart skip a beat. OnlyFans.

It wasn’t just any profile—it was hers.

Sleek promotional photos of her in a bra and panties, soft videos with her voice topping the captions, and tens of thousands of likes and comments thanking her.

You felt your cheeks burn as you realized just how many people had watched her this way while leaving enormous amounts of tips and pleading for more.

"Enjoying the show?"

Her voice sent a jolt through you. You turned quickly, finding her leaning casually against the doorframe, her arms crossed, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. She wasn't ashamed—in fact, she seemed to have been looking forward to this moment.

"Se-mi," you stammered, stepping away from the desk. "I—this isn’t what it looks like."

Her giggle was soft mumble as she approached you. "It’s exactly what it looks like," she teased. "You found my page."

"Y-you’re on OnlyFans?" You held it together, absorbing all flood of data.

She pressed back into the desk, out arched her finger across the laptop computer monitor and shut it down. "It’s a little hobby of mine," she admitted. "Something to keep life interesting."

You blinked, your heart pounding. "And you didn’t think to tell me?"

"I was waiting to see if you’d figure it out," she said, her smile widening. "You’re clever. I knew it was only a matter of time."

You weren’t sure whether to feel shocked or impressed. "How long has this been going on?"

"A few months," she said. "It started as a curiosity—something fun. But people really seem to like me." Tilting her head, she fixed her eyes in the darkness of her gaze. "You’re not mad, are you?"

Mad? No. Flustered? Absolutely.

"I don’t know," you admitted. "I just… I didn’t expect this."

Her hand found yours, her touch warm and grounding. "It’s not a big deal," she said softly. "It’s just me having fun, expressing myself."

"Expressing yourself?" you echoed, glancing toward the closed laptop.

She giggled and her other hand continued to hold it firmly on the arm, and so on. "You’ve always said I’m good at being confident," she murmured. "Turns out, other people think so too."

You choked, and your heart raced as it hit the sweet spot. "And what exactly do you… do on there?"

Her smile widened and she edged in, her breath warm under your ear. "Why don’t I show you?"

Her cheeks flushed as she flinched, the stare glittering with dark whimsy. "Unless, of course, you’re too shy."

I'm not shy", you blurted, to which a cute laugh escaped from the girl.

"Good," she murmured. "Because I’ve been thinking about involving you."

Your breath caught in your throat. "Involving me?"

She nodded and, using fingertips, lightly stroke over your chin to lift the head upwards to meet hers. "You’ve always been my biggest supporter," she said. "Why not let everyone else see what I see?"

You couldn't help but be drawn to her, the strength of her voice, which began to run down your back. But, it was a beginner's trip, a somewhat exhilarating and a somewhat overwhelming journey.

"I don’t know if I’m ready for that," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"That’s okay," she said, her tone softening. "There’s no rush. But maybe… you’d like to see how I work?"

You blinked, your pulse quickening as she grabbed her laptop, flipped to the next page of her notebook and logged in. She managed the page without difficulty, retrieving her drafts.

"Here," she said, tilting the screen toward you.

The video was simple but captivating: Lying in bed in a silk robe. She wasn't making much progress—just fiddling with the hem of the robe, letting it fall off of one shoulder, her voice a bit of whisper every now and then, something you couldn't quite make out.

"People pay for this?" you asked, incredulous.

"Of course they do," she said with a grin. "It’s not just the visuals—it’s the attitude. The confidence. That’s what they’re here for."

"Still think it’s weird?" she asked, her voice low.

"No," you admitted, glancing at her. "I think it’s… incredible."

Her expression softened and she took your hand. "I’m glad you think so," she said. "Because I’ve got plenty of ideas—and you’d be perfect for them."

with Se-mi, life would never be boring.

[quietarcher]

The Hanged Man - my Tennocon 2025 Showcase submission.

Thoughts and extras below the cut!

This piece is kind of a love letter to Alad and all he has been through I suppose! I'm sure plenty of people have drawn Warframe Tarot Cards before, but I decided to draw Alad as the Hanged Man card.

Upright, the Hanged Man represents a change in perspective, surrender, sacrifice. In this position you can see Nef Anyo to Alad's left, and Shadow Stalker + Hunhow to his right. People Alad has come to the Tenno for help against, or even assisted us in besting.

Nef, who sought to destroy Tyl Regor's lab data for the sole purpose of stopping Alad from curing himself, causing Alad to instead come to us, desperately seeking help to stop Nef and cure his self-inflicted malady. Nef, who while Alad suffers as an underdog trying to claw his way back to his seat on the Corpus board, continues to gain the favor of his peers.

Though Alad did initially gain from assisting us in the Second Dream, he immediately had to surrender that gain when the Shadow Stalker sent his Acolytes after him. Once again finding himself in the position of asking the Tenno for help.

In this position Alad is hung by a string of infestation, the very thing that caused his downfall and sparked this change in perspective.

Reversed, the Hanged Man represents stubbornness, a refusal to change, selfishness and egotism. In this position you can see Natah to his left, and Frohd Bek to his right.

It was Alad's stubbornness and refusal to play nice with his fellow board members, and his selfish dedication to the Zanuka project, that sparked Frohd Bek attempts to sabotage him, seeking the aid of the Tenno to halt his work and removing Alad from the Corpus Board, bank rolling his projects. One of the many events that incited his downfall.

Alad's old habits and greedy nature caused him to take the red flag filled deal with Regus, leading to his regretful forced partnership with the Sentients, of which Natah placed the Ropalolyst on his front doorstep as a reminder of his mistakes and his forced servitude. Despite his numerous mistakes in the past, he had not learned a thing, he had not changed.

In this position Alad's head is bracketed by sentient like structures, alluding to his cowardly attempt to hand over Corpus ships during the new war. Though we don't know his true intentions, given his thoughts through the Partnership Fragments, I believe this was just another attempt to save his own skin. After all, you know what he always says: If you can save just one life, it better damn well be mine.

Here it is in reverse, and with some extra closeups so you can see the background characters.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

What is this feeling? p.3

Heyy guys, here's part 3, if you've missed part 2 here it is.

I'm sorry for not posting yesterday, but this month I'll be pretty inactive since I have to study for my exams :(

If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.

"YN, you're good, but good isn’t enough."

Max’s words echoed in your ears as you sat across from him in the Red Bull hospitality suite. His sharp blue eyes studied you, a mix of determination and mischief glinting behind them.

"Okay, ouch," you muttered, crossing your arms defensively. "I’m working on it."

"You don’t just ‘work’ on being a winner," he said, leaning forward. "You have to become one. And lucky for you, I’ve decided to make you my new project."

"Your project?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," he said, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "I’m going to teach you everything I know. Strategy, focus, confidence—everything that makes a champion. By the time I’m done with you, you won’t just be good. You’ll be great."

You hesitated, unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted. "And what if I don’t want to be your ‘project’?"

"You don’t really have a choice," Max replied, leaning back and crossing his arms with a cocky smirk. "Besides, I’m very nice for doing this. You should thank me."

"Wow," you said, rolling your eyes but unable to suppress a small laugh. "How generous of you."

"Exactly," he said, his smirk widening.

Over the following weeks, Max threw himself into his self-appointed role as your mentor. It started with small things: tips on cornering, feedback on your race starts, pointers about tire management. He’d pull up telemetry data, going over it in detail, explaining every nuance of what made him fast.

"You’re not braking late enough into Turn 1," he’d say, tracing a section of data with his finger. "And your exit speed here? Too slow. You’re leaving time on the table."

"You’re insufferable, you know that?" you shot back one day, though secretly you appreciated how much he cared.

"I’m efficient," he corrected with a smug grin.

But it wasn’t all technical. Max started nudging you out of your comfort zone in other ways, too.

"You need to stop eating lunch alone," he told you one afternoon, stealing a fry from your plate.

"I like eating alone," you argued, snatching the fry back.

"No, you think you do," he said. "But winners know how to command a room. You should join us. Be part of the team."

Reluctantly, you let him drag you into more social settings, and while you’d never admit it to him, you began to enjoy it.

Somewhere along the way, things shifted.

It wasn’t just the racing tips or the forced social interactions. It was the way Max would wait for you after sessions, leaning against the wall with an easy smile. It was the way he’d cheer you up after a bad qualifying run, cracking jokes until you couldn’t help but laugh. It was the way his confidence in you began to chip away at your own doubts.

"You’re getting better," he said one evening after a long day of practice. "I can see it."

"Thanks to you, I guess," you teased, nudging him lightly.

"Of course, thanks to me," he said, but there was a softness in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

By the time race day rolled around, you felt different. Lighter, more confident. Max’s faith in you had become your own, and as you lined up on the grid, you could see him watching you from the pit wall, arms crossed, a small smile playing on his lips.

The race was intense. Lap after lap, you pushed yourself harder than ever, channeling everything Max had taught you. The car felt like an extension of yourself, and when you crossed the finish line, the world seemed to erupt around you.

You’d done it. You’d won.

Climbing out of the car, you barely had time to process the cheers before someone was rushing toward you.

Max.

He reached you in seconds, pulling you into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around you, and for a moment, the rest of the world fell away.

"I knew you could do it," he said, his voice low and filled with pride.

"Thanks to you," you whispered, smiling against his shoulder.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you. His eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them, his usual cockiness replaced by something warmer, more genuine.

"You were incredible," he said.

"So, does this mean I’m officially not your project anymore?" you teased, though your voice wavered slightly, the moment feeling too big for jokes.

Max chuckled, shaking his head. "You were never a project to me," he said. "Not really."

Before you could respond, the crowd surged around you—drivers, engineers, reporters. Max stepped back, giving you space, but his eyes never left yours.

Later, as the celebrations wound down and the paddock quieted, you found him leaning against the Red Bull motorhome, sipping a bottle of water.

"Hey," you said, approaching him.

"Hey," he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Then, almost shyly, you added, "You know, I couldn’t have done this without you."

Max shook his head. "You could have. I just helped you realize it."

You stepped closer, your heart racing. "Still, thank you."

He met your gaze, and for the first time, you saw vulnerability in his eyes. "Anytime," he said softly.

The distance between you felt impossibly small, and as the night stretched on, you realized something had changed—something that couldn’t be undone.

Max hadn’t just made you a winner. He’d made you believe in yourself. And in the process, you’d found something neither of you had been looking for but couldn’t ignore any longer.

Part 4

@justaf1girl, @anamiad00msday

[inellz]

「 ✦ academic rivals ✦ 」

quackity x reader

── .✦ a little help w ai — first tumblr post !:)

── .✦ synopsis ; You and Quackity or known as Alexis, had been academic rivals ever since the start of high school. however, a school field trip during your sophomore year changed everything.

You’d been academic rivals with Alexis since the very first day of high school. The two of you shared nearly every class, constantly fighting for the top spot. Whether it was stealing the teacher’s questions, comparing test scores, or arguing over who had the better project, the competition between you was fierce.

If there was one thing you were sure about, it was that Alex was insufferable.

And yet, somehow, the school field trip during your sophomore year changed everything.

The trip was to the local nature reserve, a lush green sanctuary filled with trails, streams, and wildlife. The goal was to collect data and samples for your biology project. You were excited… until you saw the seating arrangement for the bus.

Your name was right next to his.

“No way,” you muttered, staring at the paper.

“Looks like we’re stuck together,” Quackity said, appearing behind you with his trademark smirk. “Try not to get too jealous of my field notes.”

You rolled your eyes. “Try not to copy mine.”

The two of you boarded the bus, sitting side by side for the first time ever. At first, the tension was thick. He had his earbuds in, and you were pretending to be interested in the scenery outside. But eventually, the silence became unbearable.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, pulling out one of his earbuds. “Do you think we’re gonna see anything cool today? Like frogs or something?”

You glanced at him, surprised he was trying to make conversation. “I mean, maybe. They did say there’s a stream nearby.”

“Cool. Frogs are, like, underrated,” he said, leaning back in his seat.

You blinked, caught off guard by his casual statement. “You think frogs are underrated?”

“Yeah. They’re chill. What, you don’t agree?”

“I mean, I guess?” you replied, a laugh escaping your lips. “I’ve never thought about it that much.”

From there, the conversation snowballed. You started talking about biology, then transitioned to random topics like favorite snacks, movies, and the most embarrassing moments you’d had in class. By the time the bus pulled up to the nature reserve, you realized you were actually enjoying talking to him.

The day at the reserve was surprisingly fun. You and Quackity were paired up for most of the activities, collecting water samples and jotting down observations.

At one point, while sitting on a rock by the stream, he hesitated before saying, “Can I tell you something? Like… something no one else knows?”

You raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t some elaborate plan to distract me from getting better notes, is it?”

“No, I’m serious,” he said, his tone softer than usual.

“Alright,” you said, leaning in slightly. “What is it?”

He glanced around to make sure no one else was nearby before whispering, “I have a Twitch channel.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s kind of a secret. I haven’t told anyone at school. I don’t know… I guess I’m just scared people will think it’s dumb.”

You stared at him, surprised by his vulnerability. “Why would anyone think it’s dumb? That’s actually really cool.”

“You think so?” he asked, his eyes lighting up.

“Yeah,” you said with a small smile. “I mean, I’d probably make fun of you if you were bad at it, but—“

“Wow, thanks,” he interrupted, laughing.

“But seriously,” you continued, “it’s awesome. You should be proud of it.”

For the rest of the trip, you found yourself seeing Quackity in a new light. He wasn’t just your rival anymore—he was someone who shared the same passion for learning, someone who could make you laugh, someone who wasn’t afraid to show a more vulnerable side.

By the time the bus ride back started, the two of you were laughing so much that the teacher had to shush you.

“Didn’t think I’d ever say this,” he said as the bus pulled into the school parking lot, “but I had fun today. With you.”

“Same,” you admitted, your cheeks warming.

From that day on, things between you and Quackity were different. You still competed in class, but the rivalry felt less intense, more playful. And every now and then, you’d catch him sneaking a glance your way, his smirk replaced with a softer expression.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that somewhere between the frogs, the stream, and that secret Twitch confession, you’d started to like him. And judging by the way he stuck around after school to talk to you more often, you had a feeling he felt the same.

[aces-and-angels]

inbox status: closed

disclaimer: i do not vet/verify gfm campaigns myself. i can only share campaigns that have previously been vetted by other individuals. (i.e. el-shab-hussein, nabulsi, 90-ghost, etc.) <- follow them for the latest updates on vetted campaigns on tumblr.

*list of people who vet gfms is not comprehensive please do your due diligence and double-check credible sources to see if a campaign is legitimate. (+ let me know if anything i've shared is from a known scam account) > learn how to check if a gfm has been verified (on tumblr) > verifications are (and should be) done by qualified individuals. (read el-shab-hussein's post here). then check their 📌 for additional resources

this blog occasionally posts nsfw material (art, fics, etc.) -> tagged: #nsfw, #nsft, #n*fw minors dni // things to learn -> tagged: #sex-ed

tags:

#🍉 // #🇨🇩 // #🇸🇩 // #🇭🇹 > posts on palestine, congo, sudan, and haiti (includes various resources, vetted/verified gfm's, charity commissions, etc.) #art campaign boost > a collection of artwork free to use by anyone to help boost vetted gfm campaigns #choices > all content for choices visual novels by pixelberry > been around since pb was still under ea (s/o to the legends: surviving high school/cause of death) #not choices > everything else lol- i have multitudes #fanfic // #my fic // #aces-doodles > general tag for fanfic (mine + others) | my artwork

links:

master document (by @/seaweedlagoon on twitter) > google doc with resources, people to follow, and more > places currently listed: palestine, congo, sudan, haiti, yemen, hawaii, lebanon esims for gaza masterpost (by @/gothhabiba) > a comprehensive guide for purchasing esims gfm progress tracker gfm progress tracker 2.0 > a list of verified/vetted campaigns that have reached out to me to boost their campaigns commissions/gifts/etc. > sweet art from sweet peeps into the windverse masterlist > a collaborative laws of attraction based project with @oh-so-youre-a-nerd and @saibug1022 park & davis masterlist > my ocs for into the windverse (character bios, hcs, etc.) it lives within masterlist > fanfic/analyses/artwork for ilw, a fan-made third installment of the it lives anthology by @itlivesproject my ao3 > special note: due to recent reports of ao3 data scrape, ao3 account is now required to read any works

[superlinguo]

In praise of niche papers

Mark Dingemanse's blog post "In praise of niche papers" is a lovely way to share academic influences. It got me thinking about some of my favourite papers that I love and cite, and which I'm always surprised to see aren't as highly cited as some other work by these authors. So, to follow Mark's lead, here are two niche papers that are very close to my heart:

Kendon, Adam. (1978). ‘Differential perceptual and attentional frame in face-to-face interaction: two problems for investigation’, Semiotica, 24/3/4: 305–15.

Adam Kendon's contribution to the Gesture Studies literature spans four decades and many of his research papers are foundational texts across a range of topics. This is one of Kendon's least cited works. It's also one of the earliest experiments on gesture perception I've come across. Kendon used a film projector and played a speech by a speaker of Enga in Papua New Guinea to a group of English speakers, looking at what people attend to in gestures. It was the model we used for Gawne and Kelly (2014) (discussed below).

Hostetter, Autumn B., Martha W. Alibali, and Sheree M. Schrager. (2011). ‘If you don’t already know, I’m certainly not going to show you!: Motivation to communicate affects gesture production’. G. Stam and M. Ishino (eds), Integrating Gestures, pp. 61–74. John Benjamins.

I love this experiment so much: people gesture the same amount if they're doing an activity helping or competing with someone, but the size and usefulness of the gestures are different. If you're competing against someone your gestures are smaller and less informative. People, so sneaky. I absolutely made sure to get a reference to this into Gesture: A Slim Guide.

Mark suggested in his post that people share niche papers from their own research. Here are two of my favourite papers of mine that aren't cited that much, but made me very happy to have out in the world:

Gawne, Lauren, and Barbara F. Kelly. (2014). Revisiting “Significant Action” and gesture classification. Australian Journal of Linguistics, 34/2: 216–33.

This was the first research project I ever run, and (imo) a nifty modern replication of Kendon (1978) discussed above. People generally agree with Gesture Studies researchers on the minimum definition of what a gesture is, but they ascribe communicative intent to a much wider range of actions. Also, I did this research back in 2007 as my honours thesis project, but it took us another seven years to get this through to publication.

Gawne, Lauren, Barbara F. Kelly, Andrea L. Berez-Kroeker, and Tyler Heston. (2017). Putting practice into words: The state of data and methods transparency in grammatical descriptions. Language Documentation & Conservation, 11: 157–89.

This project surveyed 100 descriptive grammars: 50 published grammars and 50 PhD dissertations. There's lots of good work about how we should go about doing descriptive grammar work, but very little of this is actively discussed or described in the genre of published works. It's been almost a decade since we published this work. I'd like to think that people aren't citing it because they're just quietly improving the way they talk about methods and data in their descriptive grammar writing.

[foxbirdy]

hi!

just saw your pictures of you doing some marine biology fieldwork and i just wondered if you have any stories about the experience that you would like to share. Im in 1st year uni right now and i have no idea what im gonna specialize in other than “science!!” but i work on boats for my job right now (tallships, very cool stuff) and so marine environment work really appeals to me. If you have the time, I would love to get a picture of what the work you’re doing entails.

(What does the day-to day of marine biology research look like? What kind of stuff are you studying/information are you gathering? Whats it like? Is it awesome? feel free to answer none of these also)

thank you!!

OH, I'm jealous - it's a dream of my mine to get to work on a tallship. & I love to talk about this stuff!

In all honesty, the day-to-day changes pretty dramatically depending on what project work is available. Right now, as a student, a lot of what I'm involved in ties into coursework or research that's happening at the university! I volunteer with a couple different labs, and there's a huge variety of stuff to get in on. For example:

Last Saturday, I spent about six hours pulling otoliths and gonads out of eighty invasive roi, taape, and toau caught by local spearfishermen. Otoliths are the ear bones of fish, and similar to the rings of a tree, they have ringed annuli that can give a lot of information about the life history of the individual species. We cast these otoliths in resin, and then cut cross-sections to look at them under the microscope. The hope is that this information will help us understand when these species become reproductive, and how to control their populations.

The last several Fridays, I've been involved with an effort to collect some water quality and plankton data after a lot of heavy rain. This work was out on the boats, and we used deep and shallow drogues, YSI, light meter, secchi disk, and a couple plankton nets, moving out from the swollen rivermouth and into deeper, saltier water.

Last month, I spent a lot of time on invertebrate snorkel surveys, mostly looking for presence/absence in the nearshore. Next Tuesday, I'll be doing fish surveys in the same location. The Wednesday after I'm hopping on a wetlands restoration project & removing invasive bull grass, and a night snorkel afterwards. Next Friday is a lab day, working to process the plankton samples we've collected, and I'll be in the coral nursery afterwards. That's the really fun thing about university - there's so much different work going on, all the time!

In the summers, outside of school, that work is just as varied. I've really enjoyed having jobs that allow me to do a little bit of everything, and thus far, my supervisors have been very supportive of me in that. Here's some other projects I've gotten to work on, all within just one position:

Servicing passive monitoring systems! These are pictures of my replacing a SEABIRD logger, which has been taking a water temperature measurement every thirty seconds for the past 360 days. This helps conservation managers track heatwaves in sensitive ecosystems. We prepped new loggers with batteries and SD cards and waterproof tape to prevent biofouling, and then used snips and zipties to make the switch.

Scientific fishing! This helps get life history and population data for our target species, large pelagic fish. We collected biopsy samples, placed tags, and released primarily ahi, but also ono, and mahi. (Full disclaimer: this picture is from a subsistence fishing trip and not a scientific one, where people generally have too many things in their hands & are moving too quickly to take pictures. He was a very delicious dinner for our crew, though.)

Other marine tagging! I got to assist with bluewater cetacean tagging of several different dolphin and small whale species, and shark tagging for galapagos, blacktip reef, grey reef, and dusky sharks. Cetacean tagging was done with an air rifle, not easy at high speeds on the boat. Shark tagging was more hands-on, as we had to manually apply the tags.

Coral reef monitoring! The mission of these surveys was to track coral health through heat stress events, and to identify harmful species. I'm looking under the coral head in these pictures for crown-of-thorns starfish, one of the most urgent species threats to reefs in the Pacific.

This is the bastard. Notice the dead coral around him.

Oh I'm about to smack into the photo limit, huh. Please hold!

[imperator-kahlo]

Visages Island - Transcript

I've been puzzling through some Visages stuff the last few days and I like to do my puzzling with a surfeit of information (and also to procrastinate actually writing it down). So I transcribed the ambient and cutscene dialogue for Visages Island. Posting it in case it's useful to anyone else.

I think it's likely I'll do this for a few more areas, but at this stage I don't intend to transcribe the whole game. I'll tag any transcriptions I do #COE33 transcripts. If anyone else is working on transcriptions (or data-mining of dialogue files), feel free to let me know so we can collaborate a bit or to repost/republish any of mine for that project.

Limitations/exclusions:

I don't include the merchant's dialogue or the back-at-camp debrief.

I'm pretty sure this is all the ambient dialogue, but there's a chance I missed some. I haven't replayed the area to verify.

...

Lune: So this is Visages' island… Monoco: He Who Guards Truth With Lies. Sciel: Are those… faces? Monoco: An infinite sea of them.

…

Sciel: Is the island… singing? Maelle: This melody… Lune: This is creeping me out.

…

Sciel: What's it doing? Verso: It's not attacking… Maelle: Was that an invitation? Sciel: So it seems. Verso: Mm-mm. Feels like a trap. Maelle: I don't mind a straightforward path for once. Better than battling through a mountain of Nevrons. Sciel: No, Verso's right. Something feels off. Mask Keeper: Oh, I'm harmless, you don't need those. Verso: Well if you're harmless, then these weapons will stay harmless too. Mask Keeper: Touché. Well. Visages invites you to join him in his chamber at the end of this path. I assume that's why you're here? Sciel: Where do the other paths lead? Mask Keeper: You're free to traverse them. Masks are not just to obscure. They may also illuminate. Look for the masks that you need. Maelle: Meaning? Mask Keeper: The invitation stands. Sciel: Well. Head straight to the Axon or take the other paths?

Vale of Joy

Sciel: They seem so joyful. I'm almost jealous. Monoco: On the surface at least. Lune: He Who Guards Truth With Lies.

Prompt: A mask. It seems connected to the Axon. Prompt: It speaks. Mask of Joy: He who painted this world, seeking what he could not grasp, longing to share with those he loves. Behind his smile, what could it be? --on selecting joy-- Prompt: Something happens…

--loud roar--- Maelle: Did you hear that? Verso: That was the Axon. Sciel: Destroying these masks seems to hurt him. Lune: Then let's keep doing that.

Vale of Anger

Lune: Everything's destroyed. Monoco: Normally I enjoy a little destruction, but this doesn't feel right.

Prompt: A mask. It seems connected to the Axon. Prompt: It speaks. Mask of Anger: He who cannot fight fate, behind his scowl, emotions blaze, but in the shadows, his temper fades. What am I but a mask of… --on selecting anger-- Prompt: Something happens…

--loud roar--- Maelle: Yeah, it definitely hurts him. I think I saw one more path. Verso: That's good, we're weakening him. Sciel: This feels… off…

Vale of Sadness

Sciel: I know they're Nevrons, but… witnessing the sorrow of others… I can't help but feel for them. Monoco: A noble but tremendously fatal impulse.

Prompt: A mask. It seems connected to the Axon. Prompt: It speaks. Mask of Sadness: He who lives in-between, behind his veil, emotions swell, for a life forced to paint, What is he but a reflection of… --on selecting sadness-- Prompt: Something happens…

--loud roar--- Maelle: I think that's all of them. Lune: We should be able to fight the Axon properly now. Verso: Let's answer this thing's invitation.

Approaching the Axon

Fading Man: … Fading Man: I would have traded my years for his. Fading Man: His life was cut short. He had so much more to do, to experience. Fading Man: This senseless war. Why? To what end? Lives shattered, for what? Fading Man: He was innocent… innocent… Fading Man: It was the folly of his elders. But he paid the price for our hubris. Fading Man: I would have traded my years for his… Player: Who are you talking about? Fading Man: This place… this Axon… they are all part of his story. Prompt: The man has gone silent.

Lune: Monoco, what does that mean, "He Who Guards Truth With Lies?" Monoco: Exactly what it sounds like. Sciel: Guard as in protect? Or guard as in control? Monoco: Yes.

---Sciel throws a mask--- Verso: I think you pissed him off.

Mask Keeper: People want so badly to know, "What's behind the mask?" Front, back. Recto, verso. Great art is both window and mirror. Whether it's your mask or theirs. Verso: Harmless, huh. Sciel: He's the real Axon. Mask Keeper: Child, we all need masks, but how you use them, mmm. Maelle: Merde.

Maelle: We did it! Sciel: No, wait-- Mask Keeper: We all need masks-- Sciel: This mask can't hurt me. Because it is me. Verso: You okay? What happened? Sciel: Axon down. Let's bring this to the Curator. Verso: That was Verso, wasn't it? Renoir?

[scriptlgbt]

Hi, I created two trans AFAB characters in a futuristic sci-fi setting, one is a binary trans man (Haron) and the other is non-binary (Nestor). Do you think having Nestor (who was openly trans back then) introduce the concept of being transgender to Haron who was simply having a masculine gender expression , while they were both kids, a good idea? For context: Haron sort of felt like he was indeed trans but did not really understand what it meant until he talked it out with Nestor.

I don't see anything wrong with this personally! Every trans person's egg cracks differently.

There is an etiquette surrounding introducing these ideas to individuals though. This is the etiquette that I try to honour if I think a friend of mine may be trans, but doesn't know it yet.

Don't tell anyone who they are.

Don't tell them who you think they are - they are the authority on this, and your place as a supportive person is to trust their own process and expertise.

Your identity and experience is not theirs, but may be able to help them add data points together to help frame their own experience. Phrases that sort of channel this vibe: "I used to feel that way too," "That wasn't my experience, but I know other people who feel that way. You're not alone." "This is how getting misgendered feels like for me personally." "This is what ultimately made me realize I was trans. Not that it has to mean that for you if you don't feel that way, this was just my experience."

Just straight up don't assume anything, and make sure they know you aren't assuming anything about what they do with the information you give them about transness (your own personal info or otherwise), if anything.

Understand that there are people of every gender identity who can do anything. A cis woman can choose to get top surgery. A cis man can use she/her pronouns. There are people of every gender (and lack thereof!!!) who relate to everything they wear like it's an art project, or a drag show, or a rebellion, or a thing of complete indifference. There are people who want 3 boob!!!! Gender is whatever you want it to be. There is no prescription you have to follow about it. You don't have to commit to the whole of everything people expect just because one day you want to cut your hair a certain way and experiment with a different name. You are allowed to have freedom, and it doesn't have to mean anything. I'm dating a man who uses she/her pronouns right now! There are people who take hormones who identify as cis. There are people who identify as lesbian bears. There are trans people that never come out and there are trans people who come out and don't change anything about their expression, name, pronouns, etc.

Maintain a vibe of openness, enthusiasm, and support. Let your friend take the reigns on their own experience.

"Let me know if anything changes."

Don't call anyone an egg (unless they tell you that's okay - and only after they opt to self-refer that way).

Trust the pronouns, etc that someone gives you today. Don't go making assumptions that someone would actually prefer pronouns they never said they wanted, just because they are dressing a certain way now, etc.

Basically respect and celebrate where people are at, and don't push anyone who is questioning into any particular conclusion, and don't push anyone into questioning. Just maintain an openness.

All this said, I think at some point there are some people (in reality) that didn't really pick up on the memo about this etiquette. Sometimes people are jerks, and sometimes people don't mean to be jerks, but still make assumptions and projections that they think might be helpful but maybe aren't. When it comes to writing fiction, you get to figure out how your characters would approach this topic, and what you want to communicate to the readers about it.

mod nat

[fe-smashorpass]

Can't believe the Smash or Pass list has ended today! 😭 I just want to say thank you so much for making this happen; if I remembered correctly I first found your post with Ashe from Three Houses, and then ever since that I started to vote every single day - I always look forward to participating in this.

I'm not sure what your next steps are after doing this Smash or Pass stuff but I just want to say this again: thank you so much for making this happen; and I wish you all the very best with your finals and projects! You've got this! 💪

You’re welcome friend! I also very much enjoyed doing this. I still can’t believe it’s been a year since I started this blog.

From the creation of this blog to now, a lot has changed in my life. Some good, some bad. Did an intensive 8 week language program over the summer, a relative of mine died, finally got the proper medication to treat my mood swings (mdd is a bitch), decided that I’m going to transfer universities this fall (the uni I’m transferring to has a better program for my major and the tuition is cheaper), and some other things.

Honestly, running this blog helped me through some of the tougher times. Yeah it was stressful at times, but I still had fun! I enjoyed making the smash or pass polls, the trick or treat event, sharing some vgm I like, doing the (still on going) fe sitcom polls, and of course, rambling about Digimon from time to time (I think Digimon is my main [at least fandom wise] special interest with fe at a close second).

Anyways, don’t fret my friend! I plan on doing the generic enemy class portraits sometime in the future. It’ll probably start in 2-4 weeks from now (hopefully). I also have to finish that spreadsheet with all the data on the total amount of smashes and passes for each characters.

Also thank you for wishing me luck on for my finals and projects! They’re still kicking my ass but like I said, I’m transferring so I’m not too worried but I’m still going to put in effort 😅

Nuff of me yapping I gotta finish a paper-

[ox-imagines]

Nights Like This

Tohma x f reader - coworkers to lovers

wc: 5k

This work contains smut!! I'll put the cutoff before the smut for anyone who wants to read up to that point! !!MINORS DNI!!

This was requested by @mastering-procrastinating as an expansion of my Romance Tropes headcannons. I hope you enjoy!

(ps. the little breaks in it signal that it's a different night they're working)

“I suppose the cup in the microwave is yours?” You heard a voice over your shoulder.

Tohma Ishibashi. You were promoted several months ago and had worked with him since, though never directly. You’d had no reason to deal with him, thus you hadn’t.

“Yeah, it’s mine; sorry,” you stood and brushed past him to get your cup. “I just thought I’d get some coffee, you know, since we might be here a while.” You’d reheated the coffee still in the pot from the workday to get some caffeine in your system in preparation for what you’d expected would be a long night. From what you knew, Tohma tended to be a hard worker, and you weren’t sure what it would be like to work on a project with him.

“Good thinking. You could’ve just made a new pot, though.” Tohma’s disposition was… hard to decipher. He was courteous, and seemed friendly enough though you’d never gotten the impression he cared on a personal level. You could respect a ‘business is business’ mindset, though, so you didn’t question it or push further. He set his dinner in the microwave and leaned back against the counter as he waited for it to heat up. Focused, steely blue eyes, settled behind a monocle of all things, surveyed you as he reached for his laptop, balancing it on one large hand while he opened it and tapped on his keyboard with his other. “We already have the creative team’s content and market research prepared. We need to make infographics from it, get the presentation in order, and rehearse. I intend to be completely done with this come Friday morning.”

“Sir, yes sir,” you murmured, slightly mocking his commanding, driven tone while simultaneously mourning the loss of your next three evenings. He did little more than raise an eyebrow at you and didn’t even look up from his screen, though you could’ve sworn his lips had quirked up slightly. Setting his laptop back on the table, he retrieved his warmed food and sat down next to you.

He opened the project file and slid out several pages, handing you half of them. “Here. Start the infographics for that data.”

You did as he said, though you couldn’t help but feel a little begrudging. After all, you were in equal positions, even if you were newer to yours than he was; what right did he have to tell you what to do?  Then again you would’ve done exactly that had he not told you what to do, so what was the use in being irritated with him? Maybe if you were just calm and cooperative, you’d find him more agreeable.

The two of you fell into a silent rhythm as you worked. You were glad you’d figured out Excel pretty quickly when you started your new position; you thought if you’d had to ask him for help making the data displays you’d have rather just passed away. You glanced over at him. His brow was furrowed subtly, his striking eyes focused intently on his laptop as they reflected its glow. The strong lines of his nose and jaw pulled together a shockingly handsome face now that you were really looking at him up close.

“Do you need something?”

“Oh, sorry.” He’d caught you looking at him. You hurriedly returned to your work, your cheeks heating marginally. From the corner of your eye, you caught him smirking.

°°••....••°°

“Did you bring dinner tonight? I’m ordering mine, if you’d like something,” Tohma’s icy eyes peered at you over his phone, glimmering in the fluorescents of the little break room. The previous night, the two of you had decided to be done once all the infographics were complete. Tonight, you were going to share your files and cross-check each others’ work before compiling and organizing it into a single slideshow, giving you two nights to rehearse your presentation.

“Oh! Um, sure, I brought a snack and drink but I haven’t really eaten much today,” you weren’t sure why you’d decided to give him more information than he needed; maybe the thoughtfulness of his including you had caught you off-guard. Without another word, he handed you his phone to look at the menu of the restaurant he was ordering from and make a selection. “Do you have PayPal, or Venmo, or Cashapp, or..?” You trailed.

“No need, it’s my treat,” he nodded, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter as he watched you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Are you finished?”

“Sorry,” you quickly finished picking something and handed his phone back. “And thank you. For dinner, I mean. You really don’t have to.”

His hand lightly brushed yours as he took his phone back. “I don’t mind. You’re a good worker, and clearly, management doesn’t reward for that regularly, so I thought it might be nice for us to have a little something to keep us going.”

“I appreciate it,” you thanked him again, once more a bit taken aback by his friendliness tonight. However, he fell quiet, slipping his phone into his pocket and opening his laptop.

“Have you already sent me your work from last night?”

“I did,” you absentmindedly tapped on the table with one hand while the other dug your computer out of your bag. “I emailed it to you before we left last night.”

“Perfect.”

More silence, aside from the light tapping of keys as he typed. The quiet wasn’t awkward, thankfully, instead feeling more like he was fine to work calmly at your side rather than needing to fill the space with small talk. You clicked over to your email tab, finding the files he’d sent. You were happy to find that they were of about the same quality as yours and therefore yours should be to his liking. Before you knew it, he had his folder out again and was finally sitting down, divvying up the papers like he had the night before and handing you the opposite stack this time.

“Once we’ve checked that each others’ data is all accurate, we can compile it into the empty presentation I just shared with you.” No sooner than he’d gotten settled in his seat, he was up again, checking his phone. “The food arrived; I’ll be right back.” You noticed the smoothness with which he moved as he pocketed his phone and exited, and the graceful lines of his figure in his well-tailored suit.

Why are you thinking about that? You shook your head and leaned back in your chair, hooking your feet on the bar under the table so you could prop the chair back on just the two hind legs. Sure, Tohma Ishibashi was objectively an attractive man, but there was no reason for you to be thinking about it just because he was nice enough to buy your dinner. You didn’t even know him on a personal level in any way; for all you knew, he could be part of a gang, or in a relationship, or just be a terrible person outside of work.

Your eyes blew wide as you felt the chair’s back legs slip. You’d gotten distracted and leaned too far back. With a sickening smack, your head hit the counter behind you as you fell backward, courtesy of your feet still hooked under the table preventing you from falling straight down with the chair. “Damn it,” you groaned softly, pressing a hand to the back of your head. Sure enough, you felt the telltale dampness of blood. Keeping your hand there, you scrambled to your feet and stood the chair up. If Tohma came back to you on the floor and hurt, he’d think you were an idiot, or at the very least childish. You checked to make sure there wasn’t blood on the counter before wetting a paper towel at the sink, wringing out the excess and holding it to the back of your head. Maybe if you sat in front of the wall he wouldn’t notice anything wrong or different with your head. You slid your computer and phone over to a different chair and did just that.

“I’m back,” Tohma announced, his ashen hair falling just over his eye as he shouldered the door open. He set the bag of food and his drink on the table and eyed you curiously, noting that you’d moved seats. “Did you not order a drink?”

“No, I have one I brought tonight,” you smiled politely at him and mentally crossed your fingers that he wouldn’t ask any questions about you moving.

“Okay; just making sure the delivery wasn’t missing something,” he smiled back.

Once you both had your food out, you grabbed the energy drink you’d brought, earning you an interested and possibly amused glance from your coworker. “Honestly?” You said as you returned to your seat. “I don’t think caffeine really does much for me. I like this brand of energy drink, though, and I still try it for times like tonight when I’m working late,” you shrugged.

“Interesting. I’m a tea person myself, so that’s usually how I consume my caffeine. I’m not sure it affects me much either, though; I usually don’t bother to check whether or not a blend is decaf.”

You found yourself smiling softly. You could picture him sipping a cup of tea in his monocle, maybe sitting outside at a fancy cafe in a long, expensive coat. Oddly enough, though, you’d noticed he had two piercings in his ear, and that his monocle was chained to one of them. It was a curious accent to his otherwise tidy demeanor, and undoubtedly made you all the more interested in learning more about him.

“Shall we?” He gestured to both the food and the data sheets in front of you.

°°••....••°°

“I said I’d deal with it this weekend,” Tohma gruffly spoke into his phone. “Unlike some people, I am busy. I will talk to you later.” He hung up with a soft huff. If he was a bird, his feathers would most certainly be ruffled. As it were, his brows were pulled together slightly and his lips were pursed in a soft, irritated frown. He set his phone down on the table before fixing you with a customer service-esque smile. “I apologize. Just a friend of mine who thinks I can drop everything to help him at any moment.”

“Oh, no problem. Is there something you need to take care of?”

“No, not at all. He can wait a couple of days like I originally told him to.” As if he was finally present, he noticed the box in the middle of the table.

“I hope you like pizza, I got enough for both of us,” you gave him a reassuring smile as he sat next to you. That was the first time you’d seen him not uphold his careful composure, and even now his composition seemed somewhat strained, his steely eyes a bit more unfocused than usual and something tired about his expression that didn’t seem to belong there.

“Thank you. I’m not especially hungry at the moment but I’m sure I will be before too long. Are you ready to start rehearsing?” He scooted his chair in and leaned on his elbows against the table. Tonight he was sitting a bit closer to you than the previous two nights, close enough that you could make out several notes of his scent. Something herbal and a bit minty, a slight musky scent of some sort of aftershave or cologne, and the faintest hint of smoke. You couldn’t deny that he smelled quite nice, or that his scent suited him well.

You snapped yourself out of the thoughts, once again ridiculing yourself for having them in the first place. “Full transparency, I get a bit nervous when presenting stuff; once we get started I should do fine, and can at the very least bullshit my way through convincingly, but it might be better if you start the presentation.”

“Very well. Do you think if I kick us off with the introduction you’ll be able to follow in smoothly with the first set of statistics?”

“I do.”

“Perfect. Once you do that, we can work together to get through the rest. Tonight we’ll figure out where it feels most natural to alternate and whatnot.” He rubbed his neck as he stared at his computer. “Think of me as a safety net. If you’re doing well, I won’t step on your feet or cut you off, et cetera, but if you start struggling I won’t hesitate to jump in and take over. I have a lot of practice reading situations and making sure they turn out in my party’s favor.”

“Good to know. Thanks, Tohma.” You’d been a bit worried about how he might react to learning that the person he was doing a marketing pitch with was someone who wasn’t exactly the best at presentations, but he’d once again remained calm and good-natured, even despite seeming a bit worn out and on edge tonight.

The two of you fell into a comfortable repertoire, your rehearsal going smoother than expected. He really was a natural at directing the conversation.

“Can we be done now?” You sighed softly after yet another run-through of the slides.

“We can be done once you know your script well enough not to skip important information. If you like we can take a break for a few minutes, but we certainly aren’t done tonight. I’d like to get through it at least three more times, or until you know what you’re talking about.” Noticing your disgruntled attitude, he chuckled softly and leaned back. “The more we practice tonight, the less time we have to spend here after work tomorrow.”

Something in your chest twinged at his words as you realized he was right. Tomorrow would be your last night staying late together working on the project. You hadn’t realized you were actually enjoying his company enough that you’d miss doing overtime with him every night instead of going home. “Fine, let’s just get this over with then,” you sighed.

°°••....••°°

Tohma wasn’t there yet. This was the first time he wasn’t already in the break room waiting for you when you got there. You turned on your laptop and sat, trying to force yourself to think about something else. He wouldn’t ditch, right? Your eyes flicked to the clock. 6:36. Maybe he was just in the bathroom. Pulling up the presentation, you forced a deep breath into your lungs. He’d been happy with where you’d ended your rehearsals last night, maybe he’d decided another night of practice wasn’t necessary and had neglected to tell you he wasn’t coming.

As the time on the clock changed to 6:39, the door swung open. Tohma’s long legs easily brought him across the room to the counter, where he promptly set his bag. His shoulders were held upright as usual, but tonight there was a certain tenseness in them. He was frowning slightly; lines of tension were etched across his pristine face as well. “Is it a bit warm in here?”

You were a little startled by the rapidness of his appearance, and the question in place of a greeting, and all you could do was stare as he unbuttoned and removed his jacket. Without the extra layer, you could tell there was a clear definition to his muscles, more so than you’d expected. He wasn’t some steroid-ridden gym rat by a long shot, but he was certainly also no soft-bodied office worker. “A-are you alright?” You stammered as you looked him over. It was unusual of him to seem so uncollected.

“I’ll be fine, let’s just get through this,” he sat next to you, not bothering to get out his own computer since you already had the presentation up on yours.

Your rehearsal felt a bit more stunted than the night before, despite you being more comfortable with the information now. Eventually, you just stopped to look at Tohma. “Are you sure you’re okay? Because something definitely seems wrong.”

“I’m-” he sighed, leaning back and rubbing a hand over his neck. “My friend I mentioned yesterday is just getting on my nerves a bit more than usual. I know he’s got his issues, and I have a lot of patience, but he seems intent on wearing it out.” He turned to meet your gaze with a soft huff. “I’m sorry, none of this is your problem.”

“No, it’s fine.” You couldn’t manage to look away from him, subconsciously noting the myriad colors in his eyes; a sweet, somewhat-lavender cornflower tone, the light blue of a shadow on fresh snow, tiny flecks of a deeper, almost indigo color. You realized he wasn’t looking away either, nor was he saying anything. The tension around his eyes seemed to ease slightly, and there was the minutest shift in his expression. When his eyes finally broke away from yours, it was only for the briefest second; they flicked down to your lips before returning to your gaze. For a moment, you’d thought you were imagining it, but the blood rushing in your ears and your heart threatening to pound out of your chest made it hard to hear yourself think.

You moved toward him slightly, and he took it as an invitation. His hand pressed against the nape of your neck, pulling you to him, and his lips lowered to yours. They were impossibly soft, and fitted against yours like it was what they were meant for. Your eyes fluttered shut as you savored the sensation, letting out a soft whimper as he slid his tongue along your lower lip before gently biting it.

He pulled back, subtle disappointment curling in your chest, but then he grabbed the arm of your chair to turn it toward him. “Here,” his voice was quiet but tinged with an unusual roughness, an urgency you’d never heard in his tone. His arm wrapped around your waist and the warmth of his hand against the small of your back seeped through your shirt as he guided you over onto his lap. Without a second thought, you obliged. His thighs were firmer than you’d expected under you as you settled onto him, but you didn’t have much time to ponder before his lips were on you again. He kissed you deeply, insistently, like he was starving. His tongue pressed into your mouth and carefully played with yours while his hand slid up into your hair. Bringing your hands around from the firm planes of his back, you loosened his tie without breaking the kiss.

This is insane, you thought to yourself vaguely through the haze that was clouding your brain, but you weren’t about to complain. Once his tie was undone you wasted no time in unbuttoning his shirt, too. As you ran your hand over the warm expanse of newly revealed skin, your hips bucked against his, drawing a groan from him that sounded like honey. There was no doubt in your mind that he was already very hard under you. He leaned back to look at you, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your waist. His sky-blue eyes were wide, glowing with a soft vulnerability you weren’t expecting to see there. You reached up and carefully slid his monocle from his face; the way it was connected to his earring hindered you for a moment, but it was worth it once you could admire his stunning face completely unobstructed.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispered, yet showed no sign of stopping. He stood, lifting you and gingerly holding you to his chest, and set you on the table, nuzzling his face into your neck with a gentle nip. One hand on your waist to hold you steady and the other slowly tracing over your body, his tongue flicked out over the little bite marks he was leaving on you. He deftly unbuttoned your shirt; his hands felt cool against your heated skin. 

Deep, aching desire coiled anew in your gut as Tohma’s steely eyes roamed your newly bared skin. “Do you want this?” he asked against your cheek. His breath tickled your skin and you sighed blithely. 

“I want you,” you confirmed, and he kissed you with a fresh passion. His hips eagerly rolled against yours, creating a friction that only deepened the aching in your gut. With a pause, he pulled away, slipping his wallet from his back pocket and unbuckling his belt. The clank of the buckle sent a shiver of anticipation through you.

“You know,” he chuckled quietly as he drew something from the wallet. “One of my friends insisted I carry this; I told him I wouldn’t need it, but I suppose I’ve proved him wrong.” His fingers toyed with the condom for a moment as he looked it over, the wrapper crinkling, and then he set it on the table next to you. “I guess we should be thankful I gave in to his advice, hm?”

His fingertips brushed along your sides as he leaned back down to you. His lips found their way back to the sensitive skin of your neck and trailed languid, messy kisses down to your chest whilst his hands unhurriedly slid your waistband down your hips. The brush of the fabric, the short heated breaths against your skin, the soft pressure of him standing between your legs, it all had your head reeling desperately. 

The vulnerability you’d been so sure you’d seen before was gone, his eyes shrouded with thick, hazy lust and an almost wicked half-smile playing across his lips as he divested you of what was left of your clothes. You felt like a mouse trapped by a tomcat, but you would happily let him devour you whole. One of his hands came to rest on your shoulder as he moved back to finally rid himself of his own pants, lightly pressing you down, the tabletop cool against your back. His fingers were long and elegant and easily pushed the garment down out of the way to better reveal the outline of his raging arousal. But, before also moving his underwear, before you even knew what was happening, you felt those slender fingers press against the intense heat between your legs. You gasped at the sudden contact, your head tipping back and your thighs tensing as he rubbed his fingers along your entrance. He was prepping you, you realized.

“T-Tohma,” you groaned as one of his fingers pushed into you, encouraging and spreading the wetness pooling there. At the sound of his name falling from your lips, his eyes blazed with an all-consuming desire, no trace of his earlier tiredness or tension present in his defined form. He pulled his hand back, the air filling the space coolly, and slid down his underwear. You couldn’t bring yourself to lift your head to look, not with the dizzied feeling pulsing in your skull with every shaky breath you drew. You’d feel him soon enough anyway. The soft, ephemeral crinkle of the condom’s wrapper let you know this was truly happening, any moment now.

“Oh, darling, you’re divine,” Tohma’s voice dripped with a corrupting, anticipatory tone, his hungry eyes raking over your form as you lay there ready to take him. His hands came to rest on your hips, gripping them firmly and holding them down against the table, and as he moved toward you you let your legs slide open a bit more and wrapped your ankles around the backs of his legs. You wanted him close, impossibly, unmentionably close. One of his hands left your hip to guide him between your legs and the head of his cock rubbed against your core as he leaned down to kiss your throat. You arched up into the feeling, whimpering and writhing, but he pulled back slightly. “Now, my little minx,” he whispered with an amusement that was adjacent to cruelty, “hold still. Be a good, patient girl for me.”

The commanding edge to his otherwise soft voice made you groan again but you listened, stilling under him as he closed the distance between you again. His hand squeezed your hip almost painfully as he eased his cock into you excruciatingly slowly. Bliss bloomed through your core as he entered you, the discomfort of his girth stretching you even dulling into ecstasy at the way he unhurriedly filled you. “Please,” you gasped, begging him to move.

He grinned, though now his disciplined expression was strained, his control threatening to slip at the wonderful sensation of being surrounded by your warmth. “Good little minx,” he nipped at your throat and slowly slid almost fully out of you, shuddering at the friction. Without further warning, he thrust himself in to the hilt with a near punishing force. Your hand resting on his wrist turned into a clawed grip, wanton cries spilling from your lips as he set a harsh pace. Each thrust was deliberate and sent a new wave of ecstasy through you.

As if that weren’t enough, Tohma had begun making noises that were sinfully sweet; desperate, saccharine whimpers and moans as he drove into you relentlessly. He’d placed his hand on the table next to you for support when he’d started, and now his arm was trembling, his nails digging little crescent marks into your hip where his other hand still rested. A light sheen of sweat formed over his sculpted, porcelain chest as it rose and fell more erratically, his head resting in the crook of your neck as his quivering grew worse. Dragging along your hot skin, his shaking hand uncurled from your hip and moved down to your thigh, his thumb carefully burrowing between your legs. Stars burst in your vision as he found your clit, a ragged groan escaping your throat and your eyes fluttering shut as he rubbed the sensitive spot. He continued, eliciting cries of his name from your lips as his hips started to stutter, his resolve crumbling completely as his movements grew more unstable.

Your walls trembled and constricted around him and you shook uncontrollably, grabbing at his neck and back to try and ground yourself as your climax tore through you. He cried out in pleasure as he found his release too. His forehead came to rest on yours as he weakly and unsteadily thrust into you a few more times for good measure, thoroughly riding out your orgasms. He finally stilled, panting hard, and moved off you to lay next to you. Though he didn’t pull you over against him, trying to cool off, he was still close enough that you could feel his breath on your cheek and neck, and he rested an arm around your waist.

You took a moment to admire him like this as the haze in your brain cleared. His gently closed eyes, his swollen lips parted as he caught his breath, his flushed cheeks, his soft, ashen hair messy and sticking to his dampened forehead: you could’ve never imagined him looking this unkempt, but he was like a work of art. Slowly, cautiously, you moved a hand up to his warm cheek. His eyes flew open startledly, but then his expression softened again.

“I,” he paused as if looking for his next words. “Thank you.” Tentative affection stirred in his icy eyes as he looked at you, but then he blinked and cleared his throat and it was gone. “We should clean up,” he carefully got up from the table, striding over to the sink and dampening a paper towel before removing his condom, wiping himself off and wrapping the condom in the towel to hide the evidence before throwing it away. You pushed yourself up into a sitting position, watching him as he stepped back over to the sink. He then approached you with another wetted paper towel, meeting your eyes as he leaned down to you as if asking if it was okay for him to clean you. You nodded and he carefully spread your legs again. One of his hands rested on the outside of your thigh while the other meticulously cleansed you.

Once he was finished, he stood again and zipped his pants, retrieving his shirt from his chair. You kept your eyes on him, studying the way his muscles rippled as he slid the garment back on. “Well, are you going to get dressed, or are you just going to stay like that the rest of the night?” Tohma teased, chuckling, and you felt your cheeks heat.

“Right, sorry.” A bit self-aware now, especially after how you’d been blatantly staring at him, you turned away and pulled your clothes on.

Tohma put back on his monocle, and with it his cool composure. Any softness he’d shown you had melted away as if it were never there to begin with. “Will you be able to focus if we continue work tonight? Or should we just run through it again before we present Monday?”

You blinked at him a moment, then cleared your throat. It was a fair question; you didn’t think you could just go back to what you were doing and pretend nothing had just transpired between the two of you. “Oh, um, I think I’ve got it down now, so if you wanna be done for tonight I’m fine with it.”

He nodded and picked up his bag. “Well, I suppose I’ll see you in the morning then. Good night.” Something in your chest twinged as he turned to leave, but he faced you again, lowering his voice. “If you’re lucky, maybe this could become a more… common occurrence,” he smirked softly. Your voice caught in your throat at the implication, your mouth opening wordlessly. The low chuckle he let out at your state only flustered you further.

“I, uh, good night, Tohma. See you in the morning.”

[writing-until-i-drop]

What's In A Name? Chapter Six

Meg Harding and Kate Carter were inseparable until their friends died five ago, then she ran to New Orleans to save lives as a paramedic. But when Javi calls on his two oldest friends to help him collect data, counting on their matching natural instincts for tornadoes, Meg goes home for the first time in years. That's where she meets Tyler and the rest of the Wranglers, the YouTube storm chasers her dad likes to watch, and finds herself fitting in more with them than with Storm PAR. Meg only plans to stay for the week but will it be easy to leave when the dust settles?

If a certain cowboy has a say in it, nothing about leaving is going to be easy.

A/N: Cathy's not playing fair

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

“Meggy Harding, you are a sight for sore eyes,” Cathy Carter called coming from the direction of the old barn. “Come here, honey,” Meg hurried down the porch to meet her on the lawn, letting herself be swept up into one of Cathy’s strong hugs. “You’re getting skinny, have you been taking care of yourself?” 

“Been tryin’ to,” Meg let her second mom place kisses all over her face. “But I’ve been busy.” Cathy pinched her cheek, giving her a playful glare.

“Well, I’ll cook up a big dinner. You here for Kate?” 

“Always,” Meg tipped her head back to where Tyler remained on the porch, “And I brought a friend just in case my boot up her ass ain’t enough.” Cathy’s gaze shifted over Meg’s shoulder and the older woman perked up,

“Honey, he’s cute,” She said less than stealthily, wiggling her brows. “He your boyfriend?”

“Cathy, please,” Meg whined, tugging on Cathy’s arm. “Please be the one adult in my life actin’ normal about this man.” 

“Fine, fine, I’m on my best behavior.” She messed Meg’s hair, moving past her towards the porch. “And who might you be, honey?” 

“Tyler Owens, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, especially since you brought Meggy here to see me,” Tyler’s smile was big and bright. He was every parent’s dream, standing there all handsome, every sentence coming out of his mouth starting or ending with “ma’am.” 

Meg abandoned them, wandering off to the barn where she found Kate watching her old science project make a tornado. 

“Never gets any less impressive, Katie my Lady.” Kate glanced over her shoulder with a sad smile.

“Never thought we’d be back in the barn,” Kate’s accent was a little more pronounced, heavy with emotion. “Mom never cleaned it out,” Meg looked around, taking in the plastic covered tables. Without lifting the sheets, Meg knew what was beneath each one. All of Kate’s research, Addy’s drawings, Jeb’s cameras, and my binder filled with diagrams of the human body and notes on everything that could go wrong with it. The plan back then had been to become a doctor, Meg hadn’t thought about that dream in a long time. 

“We left a lot of things unfinished,” 

“Wonder why.” Kate clicked off the simulator, leaning back against the table. “What are you doing here, Meg?” 

“I smacked Javi, Tyler stopped me before I could hit him for real.” Kate chuckled, running a hand down her face. “We didn’t kill them, Kate.” 

“I’m going back to New York,” Meg sighed. If Kate ran again, there was no getting her back, she knew that. “Don’t try and stop me.” 

“We gotta do something, Katie, and runnin’s not an option anymore.” Kate’s response was cut off by Cathy and Tyler strolling into the barn, laughing to themselves. 

“You brought Tyler?” Kate snapped, angry. Meg’s temper spiked back,

“What was I supposed to do, steal his truck?” Kate flinched, “Not everything can be solved by runnin’, Kate, sometimes you’ve gotta chase.” 

“Well, maybe I don’t want to!” Kate shouted, tears streaming down her face, “Not everyone’s okay with the people they love-”

“Kate, go set the table,” Cathy shouted over them both, “Meg, cool off.” Dying. That was the word Kate was going to use and even though Cathy had stopped her, Meg heard it all the same. Kate saw Meg accepting what had happened to their friends as her not caring? It was like a punch to the gut, Meg physically faltering where she stood. Cathy took off after Kate, who rushed out of the barn, sobbing, and Tyler crossed the room to her. 

“I’m fine,” She was not fine. “We just,” Tyler wiped away her tears with his sleeve, concern evident on his face. “This barn brings up a lot of memories.” Tyler took a good look around, “Kate’s havin’ a hard time dealing with that.” 

“Just Kate?” Meg snorted, pulling her hair out of its ponytail. “Going to be honest, darlin’, didn’t think I’d walk in here to find you two arguing.” 

“Yeah, well, we’ve known each other for a decade and I’m pretty sure that was our first,” Meg shook her head. “God fucking dammit, I never shoulda left New Orleans.” 

“Hey, hey, hey, no need for that,” Tyler smoothed her bangs back, kissing her forehead. “Friends fight. Boone and I get into it all the time, you two will be okay.” Meg wrapped her arms around Tyler’s waist, resting her head against his chest. “I promise, darlin’, everything’s going to be okay.” 

“It’s not, Ty, you can be as charmin’ as you like but I’ve got to help Javi finish getting his data and go home. It’s the only helpful thing I can do while I’m here.” 

“About that…” Tyler stroked her back and Meg’s stomach dropped.

“He’s not helping people…is he?” Tyler began to fill her in on all the dirty details of Storm PAR’s involvement with Marshall Riggs and how they took advantage of people in distress to fund their research. All her earlier fight left her body with a great sigh, broken defeat replacing it. “That’s it, I’m going home.” Meg tried to pull away but Tyler held her tight, “Ty.”

“I thought you said running wasn’t an option,” 

“Then call me a fuckin’ hypocrite and take me to the airport.” Meg pushed one more time but Tyler still didn’t budge. “You can’t hug me until I change my mind, Ty, it’s not gonna work.”

“Darlin’,” Tyler kissed her forehead again. “If you still feel that way in the morning, I’ll take you to the airport.” Meg expected to feel relieved but instead, she felt even more dejected.

“How’s it going in here?” Cathy came back through the doors, “You cooled down enough for dinner, Meggy?”

“I’m goin’ home tomorrow,” Tyler finally let her pull away, only for Cathy to take Meg’s face in her hands. A disapproving look on her face.

“Unless you’re talking about visiting your mama, I don’t want to hear it, honey.” She opened her mouth to argue but Cathy steamrolled right over her. “What you’re going to do is eat some dinner and get some sleep, then you’re going to finish putting your boot up my daughter’s ass and finish what all of you started. Do you hear me, young lady?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Cathy turned her gaze to Tyler, pointing at him,

“And you, she tries to run, you stop her.” 

“Already on it, ma’am.” 

“Good, knew I liked you. Now come on, let’s eat.” 

It took less than a minute being back in each other’s presence for the girls to make up, throwing themselves at each other. Hugging and tearfully apologizing to each other, much to Cathy’s amusement and Tyler’s visible relief. Besides her great aunt Meg’s cooking, Cathy’s cooking was Meg’s favorite, and Cathy kept scooping more food onto her plate until she was ready to burst. 

Then the stories started, Cathy was hell-bent on embarrassing both girls and Tyler was all ears, teasing them both. His hand was resting on Meg’s knee, tethering her to him like a lifeline. Things soured quickly the second Cathy brought up their old project, Kate storming off in the most polite way possible. 

“Tyler, why don’t you go read through their old research, it’s in the white binder with the cloud on it.” 

“I don’t want to push my luck with your daughter ma’am.” Meg patted his thigh, giving him the silent approval, “If you’re sure.” 

“Come on, honey, I’ll wash, you dry.” 

Meg turned on some 90s country music on her phone to fill the silence while they washed the dinner plates, Cathy was the one to break the silence.

“He seems like a good man, Meggy.” Cathy handed her a dish to dry.

“He is,” She agreed. “Don’t tell me my dad’s got you bettin’ on my wedding too.” Cathy gave a little shrug, failing to fight a smile. “Busy bodies, I swear.” 

“What? You expect us to see you with a cowboy gentleman, who seems to love storms as much as you do, and not hear wedding bells?” Meg groaned, taking another plate to dry. 

“At least tell me you’re not in on Rabbit’s pool.” The silence was deafening, “Cathy!” 

“Well, there is only one bed in the guest room.” She didn’t know who she wanted to strangle first, Cathy or Rabbit. “And you and Kate shouldn’t be sharing a twin bed, the guest room has a full.” 

“You’re killin’ me. So, when I wasn’t looking you pulled my bag outta Kate’s room and put it with Tyler’s? Is that what you’re tellin’ me?” 

“I’ve got a hundred bucks on it happening before the end of storm season and no one said I had to play fair.” 

“Dirty, no good cheater,” Meg mumbled. They then settled into silence again, finishing the rest of the dishes.

“Has Kate been chasing again? She said she wasn’t.” Meg hummed, drying off the last dish and putting it away in the cabinet.

“Javi asked us to come down and help him collect data.” God, things had seemed so much simpler only a few days ago. “So, yeah, we’ve been out chasin’ again.” 

“I’m proud of you for coming back, Meggy, proud of all of you.” Meg leaned against the counter, staring up at the ceiling. There was a red mark in the center from where Parveen had eaten a Babybel Cheese, rolled the wax into a ball, and tossed it around. The little wax ball had stuck to the ceiling, the wax never fully coming off.

“I don’t know if I’m back yet, Cathy.” She tossed the dish rag over her shoulder with a sigh. “I want to help people and as much as I love chasin’, it ain’t as helpful as my job back in New Orleans. Those people,” She thought of the last patient she had transported before leaving. A ninety-year-old woman with chest pains, she had told Meg her whole life story in the back of the rig. She wasn’t scared of dying, no, June Bishop was perfectly content. Miss June had lived a long life, she had gotten married young and had three sons, all of whom went to serve in the military, she had lost everything in Katrina like so many others, and had lived long enough to see all of her grandchildren, and one great-grandchild born. Meg had held her hand the whole way to the hospital. “Those people I can help in a tangible way. I mean, if Kate,” Tears pricked her dry eyes. “If we could finish what we started, I think that’s the only thing besides a funeral that could get me to come back.” 

Cathy gathered her up in a hug, both of them leaning against the counter. After some time passed, Kate came down from her room, and without a word she joined them in the embrace. A little while later, Meg shot off a text to Lily.

Meg: How’s everything going?

Lily: Boone’s a bit butt hurt but he’ll get over it - you?

Meg: Touch and go

Tyler seemed surprised to find Meg brushing her teeth in the bathroom attached to the spare bedroom when she spotted him in the mirror. 

“Not that I’m complaining but I figured you’d be sharing a bed with Kate,” Tyler leaned against the door jamb of the bathroom and there was something so domestic about the whole situation that caught Meg off guard. She’d had plenty of boyfriends over the years, none lasting more than a month before either she got tired of them or they got tired of her. Sleepovers with men weren’t something she was used to though, even in a relationship she liked to sleep alone, kicking her dates out at the end of the night.

“I did too,” She replied after spitting and rinsing her mouth. “I’ve got to wash my face if you want to get changed.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” He closed the door and when he was done, opened it again, watching her dry her face with a soft, pink towel. “Are you okay with the sleeping arrangements, darlin’, or should I take the couch?” 

“I’m fine if you are, I am going to give Cathy an earful for it in the morning though.” Tyler followed her to the bed, claiming the side closest to the door. 

“Sounds like there’s more to it than a lumpy couch.” 

“Oh, there is,” Meg huffed, relaxing into the pillows, breathing in the scent of air-dried laundry. “My family’s got all sorts of bets running on us and Cathy’s bein’ a cheat.” Tyler shifted onto his side and she could feel his eyes on her while she stared at the ceiling. 

“Bets that involve us sharing a bed?” 

“Yes, sir,” She drawled sarcastically, turning off the lamp on her side of the bed. “It’s embarrassin’.” 

“Well,” Tyler sighed, “I think if I’m being bet on, I should know what for.” Why? Meg closed her eyes. Why was her family like this?

“They bet on how long, Jesus Christ,” She took a deep breath, “They bet on how long it would take me to, and I quote, ride the cowboy.” Tyler, thank God, didn’t say anything but he did chuckle and she could feel his eyes on her. Meg wanted the bed to open up and swallow her whole, her face burning with embarrassment.

“And the other bet?” Meg took another long, deep breath before answering.

“They’re bettin’ on us getting married, Arkansas,” She flipped to face away from him. “Now go to sleep.” Tyler’s hand gripped her waist, flipping her to her other side so they were face to face. “I’m not talking about this, Ty.” 

“You’re cute when you’re annoyed,” He squeezed her hip, giving her a soft smile that made her heart beat like crazy. He was backlit by the lamp on his side of the bed, a soft, yellow light highlighting him in an angelic way. “You scrunch your nose like this,” He imitated her and he looked adorable. Meg giggled, bopping his nose.

“Stop, I’m trying to be mad and you actin’ sweet ain’t helping.” He shrugged,

“Well excuse me for not wanting my girl to be mad.” His girl. Those words weighed on her chest like a cat curling in for a nap, warm and comforting. 

“You are taking this whole thing about my family bettin’ on us having sex and getting married a little too well,” She narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you not sayin’?” He blushed, rubbing circles into her hip with his thumb. “Tyler I-don’t-know-your-middle-name-Owens, tell me.” 

“Michael,” He muttered. Meg tilted his head up with two fingers under his chin. “That’s my middle name.” 

“And mine’s Marie, now spill it.” 

“There may or may not be a similar bet going with the group,” Of course there was. 

“Bet, as in singular?” He nodded, “Which one do they have goin’?” Tyler’s blush deepened.

“Well, darlin’,” Tyler sighed, smiling sweetly. “Boone’s been planning our wedding since you tried to pool the wool over my eyes when we first met.” He cupped her face and she mirrored him, her hand resting on his cheek. “So they’re betting on the other part.” There were two ways Meg could go with this conversation, serious or teasing, and she’d be damned if she did anything serious while wearing Kate’s Hello Kitty sleep pants from high school.

“Well,” Meg stroked Tyler’s stubbled cheek. “Tell Boone I want an October weddin’ and he’s welcome at it whether you’re there or not.” Tyler shook with laughter, tugging her so she was head first in his chest like they had slept the night before.

“Oh, I’m gonna be there, darlin’,” He kissed the top of her head. “Crying while your daddy walks you down the aisle to me.” So much for avoiding serious conversation. Meg expected to feel a sense of fear or at least anxiety thinking about marrying Tyler but instead, she found herself smiling. His cologne was lingering on his sleep shirt and he was oh so warm wrapped around her. She could see him standing at the altar all dressed up in a suit and tie, Boone behind him as best man, and Preacher beside him ready to officiate like he had promised to when she was little.

“Boone share any of these wedding plans with you?” Meg slipped her leg between his, bringing herself just a little bit closer to him. “Tell me everything.” Tyler began stroking her back.

“He wants to do it outside, said he thinks you’d like to be where you can see the sky.” Boone knew her well, that’s exactly how she wanted to get married, not inside of some stuffy church. “Dani’s picking out dresses she and Lily won’t mind wearing as your bridesmaids, they’ve got one for Kate too.” 

“Sounds like they’ve got the whole thing planned out. Lily in charge of the rings?” 

“Yes, ma’am. They even roped Ben into picking out table settings and invitations, he complains but is secretly over the moon.” Tyler’s hand moved to her hair, massaging her neck. Meg groaned, not realizing how much tension had been lingering there until that exact moment.

“That feels good, Ty.” She felt herself getting sleepier, relaxing more into Tyler’s hold with each passing moment. “Keep tellin’ me about our wedding.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” He kissed her hair again. “The biggest argument is what kind of flowers to get. Boone’s a romantic so he wants roses.” That made her giggle,

“Why ain’t I surprised?” 

“Shh, baby,” Tyler teased, kissing her hair again. “You’re supposed to be falling asleep.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do, Arkansas,” Meg sassed half-heartedly. Tyler’s ministrations paused for a moment before he gently pulled her head back by her hair. He was fixing her with one of those listen-to-me looks she’d seen on her mama’s face a thousand times before, his eyes the color of greenage before a big storm. Staring into them, she wondered if her favorite color had ever truly been yellow, or if it had been green all along and she just hadn’t found the right shade until now. 

“Darlin’,” His fingers tightened their grip just a little, giving Meg a jolt of pain that only brought pleasure. “Will you please hush that pretty little mouth of yours and let me talk?” She wanted to sass him again, see what he would do but when she opened her mouth nothing but a yawn came out. He must’ve taken that as a yes, bringing her face back into his chest. He was lucky he was cute enough to get away with manhandling her like that. “Dani’s vote is on sunflowers but Ben and Lily think that lilies would be better.” Meg made an inquisitive noise, wanting to know what Tyler thought. “I’ve got a soft spot for wildflowers, especially daisies. My mama used to keep a vase of them on the counter next to the window.” Meg snaked a hand under the back of his shirt, humming in approval. “I’ll take your freezing hands under my shirt as a yes to the wildflowers.” 

Tyler kept talking about color schemes and Dexter’s thoughts on what to cater for dinner. How Ben had insisted they have live music instead of a DJ and the way Boone wanted to use bandanas as pocket squares, all while Meg drifted off to sleep. 

She woke to her phone ringing, AC/DC’s Highway to Hell breaking the silence of the night. Tyler’s arms were firm around her waist making it hard for her to retrieve the device from the bedside table.

“Hey, Hot Stuff,” She groaned. Tyler didn’t budge from his position curled around her. The man, she was learning, could sleep like the dead. But she would bet he’d be wide awake if she even thought of the word tornado.

“Hey, Honey Buns. How’s the storm hunting?” Nick must’ve been grabbing beignets, she could hear the familiar sounds of Cafe du Monde in the background in the late hours of the night.

“It’s good,” She decided to keep the life and death details to herself for now, not in the right mindset for a lecture. “How’s my baby, you treatin’ her right?” 

“She’s purrin’ like a cougar in a college bar.” Meg chuckled, “Hadn’t heard from ya so I thought I’d check in. Cecilia misses you something awful.” Cecilia was Nick’s wife of seven years, an ER nurse at University Hospital. She and Meg would sometimes get lunch together when their days off aligned but Meg knew who was really missing her. 

“Yeah, I miss you too,” Nick laughed, commenting on her ego. “The storms out here have been crazy.” Just like she predicted, Tyler stirred.

“Storm? Is that Boone?” Meg rolled her eyes, kissing him on the chin.

“It’s just Nick, go back to sleep, Sweetie Pie.” And then he was out like a light, she shook her head at him.

“Meg Marie Harding, you’ve got a man in your bed?” Nick jokingly scolded her like an older brother. “You ain’t supposed to be doin’ that outta wedlock.” 

“Says the man who tried to set me up with that fire fighter who ended up having a wife.” 

“Not my finest moment, I’ll admit,” He chuckled. “Well, Honey Buns, I’ll let you get back to sinnin’.” 

“Meanin’ your order’s ready?” Nick hung up on her without answering and she laughed softly, choosing not to fight against Tyler’s hold, putting the phone under her pillow.

She’d be back in New Orleans soon enough, riding around in the rig with Nick, going wherever dispatch sent them. But for the first time, thinking about her life there didn’t feel right, her heart constricting the point of physical pain.

Meg traced Tyler’s jaw with her fingertips, then his nose, the arch of his brow, and his bottom lip, the pain getting worse with every second. Helping people was her job, one that she loved and felt called to, but the thought of leaving Tyler was breaking her heart.

“Tyler Michael Owens,” She whispered, watching for any signs that he was awake and seeing none. “I think I just might be fallin’ in love with you.” Meg pressed a feathersoft kiss to his lips, it lasted a second, maybe less, but she felt more in that split second than she had with any of the men Nick had set her up with in the past. 

“Again, baby,” Tyler whispered, eyes blinking open. “Please.” He sounded so needy and desperate, matching her own desire for him. Meg didn’t hesitate to brush her lips against his. Tyler tilted his head into the kiss, kissing her soundly, leaving not an ounce of doubt in her mind that she loved him. It had been less than a week but Meg felt like she had known him her entire life. He made her feel safe, comfortable, and seen. The way he held her at night and couldn’t keep his hand off her leg during the day, the way he listened to her like there was no one else around, and most importantly, the way he treated her with kindness and respect. “Nick okay?” Tyler asked once they came up for air, voice raspy.

“He’s fine, just checkin’ on me.” Tyler hummed, giving her a peck on the lips once, twice, three times more. 

“And how are you doing, baby?” 

“Never better,” Meg kissed his chest, snuggling back into what was quickly becoming her favorite sleeping position. 

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Next Chapter

[thoughtportal]

When Philip Sontag first visited Antarctica as a Ph.D. student, he brought back an unusual souvenir: a huge bag of penguin feathers. And now, after a decade-long analysis, Sontag and his colleagues have figured out how to use such feathers to create a living map of the mercury contamination that increasingly threatens Southern Hemisphere wildlife.

Mercury is a common by-product of gold mining, a growing industry in several southern countries. The toxic metal accumulates as it moves up the food chain by binding with amino acids in animals and then infiltrating their central nervous systems, where it can inhibit neural growth. Tracking mercury exposure is crucial for monitoring an ecosystem—but merely sampling rocks, ice or soil for its presence tells little about how much is actually entering the food web.

Many predators, including penguins, have evolved ways to dispose of mercury. The chemical builds up in feathers that the birds regularly molt in large quantities. Sontag, now a polar researcher based at Rutgers University, and his colleagues hoped to use molted feathers to determine where penguins picked up the toxic substance. The scientists were surprised to find a very clear correlation between the feathers’ levels of mercury and of a carbon isotope called carbon-13; the latter varies based on geographic location and thus acts as an indicator of “where the penguins are feeding or where their breeding grounds are,” Sontag says. These findings, published in Science of the Total Environment, confirmed this connection in seven penguin species scattered across the Southern Ocean—a pattern suggesting they’re exposed to more mercury farther north, where the comparatively warmer environment leads to higher carbon-13 levels.

These findings suggest that penguins could function as mercury bioindicators: living trackers of environmental pollutants, says the study’s senior author John Reinfelder, a marine biologist at Rutgers. Rather than measuring the chemical itself in a snapshot of time and place, he says, measuring penguin feathers’ mercury levels tracks the substance’s movement through the oceanic food web. For instance, penguin species known to reside near one another had varying mercury and carbon-13 levels because of their different migration and feeding patterns. These data could be modeled into a maplike database to help guide future projects on conservation and polar science research.

Scientists consider penguins promising candidates for such bioindicators, says marine scientist Míriam Gimeno Castells, a Ph.D. student at the Institute of Marine Science from the Spanish National Research Council, who was not involved in the study. The animals are midway through the food chain. They breed in colonies, so researchers can easily scoop up feathers from many different individuals. Additionally, every breeding season they undergo dramatic molts; the feathers they lose “will contain the mercury that has accumulated during the nonbreeding season,” Gimeno Castells says.

Sontag’s next steps are to collect newer feathers to experiment with, across different species, and to measure mercury in penguins’ blood and prey to compare with levels of the substance in their feathers.

And how are the penguins themselves doing with their current mercury levels? “We don’t believe penguins have been exposed to toxic levels as of yet,” Reinfelder says. “Yes, the penguins will be okay.”