#web based help desk

[glowettee]

hi there! im a fan of your page 💕

can you give me the best studying techniques?

hi angel!! @mythicalmarion tysm for asking about study techniques 🤍 i'm so excited to share my secret methods that helped me maintain perfect grades while still having a dreamy lifestyle + time for self-care!! and thank you for being a fan of my blog, it means everything to me. <3

~ ♡ my non-basic study secrets that actually work ♡ ~

(don't mind the number formatting)

the neural bridging technique this is literally my favorite discovery!! instead of traditional note-taking, i create what i call "neural bridges" between different subjects. for example, when studying both literature + history, i connect historical events with the literature written during that time. i use a special notebook divided into sections where each page has two columns - one for each subject. the connections help you understand both subjects deeper + create stronger memory patterns!!

here's how i do it:

example:

left column: historical event

right column: literary connection

middle: draw connecting lines + add small insights

bottom: write how they influenced each other

the shadow expert method this changed everything for me!! i pretend i'm going to be interviewed as an expert on the topic i'm studying. i create potential interview questions + prepare detailed answers. but here's the twist - i record myself answering these questions in three different ways:

basic explanation (like i'm talking to a friend)

detailed analysis (like i'm teaching a class)

complex discussion (like i'm at a conference)

this forces you to understand the topic from multiple angles + helps you explain concepts in different ways!!

the reverse engineering study system instead of starting with the basics, i begin with the most complex example i can find and work backwards to understand the fundamentals. for example, in calculus, i start with a complicated equation + break it down into smaller parts until i reach the basic concepts.

my process looks like:

find the hardest example in the textbook

list every concept needed to understand it

create a concept map working backwards

study each component separately

rebuild the complex example step by step

the sensory anchoring technique this is seriously game-changing!! i associate different types of information with specific sensory experiences:

theoretical concepts - study while standing

factual information - sitting at my desk

problem-solving - walking slowly

memorization - gentle swaying

review - lying down

your body literally creates muscle memory associated with different types of learning!!

the metacognition mapping strategy i created this method where i track my understanding using what i call "clarity scores":

level 1: can recognize it

level 2: can explain it simply

level 3: can teach it

level 4: can apply it to new situations

level 5: can connect it to other topics

i keep a spreadsheet tracking my clarity levels for each topic + focus my study time on moving everything to level 5!!

the information architecture method instead of linear notes, i create what i call "knowledge buildings":

foundation: basic principles

first floor: key concepts

second floor: applications

top floor: advanced ideas

roof: real-world connections

each "floor" must be solid before moving up + i review from top to bottom weekly!!

the cognitive stamina training this is my absolute secret weapon!! i use a special interval system based on brain wave patterns:

32 minutes of focused study

8 minutes of active recall

16 minutes of teaching the material to my plushies

4 minutes of complete rest

the specific timing helps maintain peak mental performance + prevents study fatigue!!

the synthesis spiral evolution this method literally transformed how i retain information:

create main concept spirals

add branch spirals for subtopics

connect related concepts with colored lines

review by tracing the spiral paths

add new connections each study session

your notes evolve into a beautiful web of knowledge that grows with your understanding!!

these methods might seem different from typical study advice, but they're based on how our brains actually process + store information!! i developed these through lots of research + personal experimentation, and they've helped me maintain perfect grades while still having time for self-care, hobbies + fun!!

sending you the biggest hug + all my good study vibes!! remember that effective studying is about working with your brain, not against it <3

p.s. if you try any of these methods, please let me know how they work for you!! i love hearing about your study journeys!!

xoxo, mindy 🤍

glowettee hotline is still open, drop your dilemmas before the next advice post 💌: https://bit.ly/glowetteehotline

[apples4shoyo]

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘗𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 - 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 1

spiderman!shoyo x f!reader

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: shoyo is late to class, bruised at lunch, and weirdly good at saving your life mid-mall explosion. (you might be in love. he might be spider-man.)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs/ɴᴏᴛᴇs: HEAVILY based on the plot and characters of the sam raimi trilogy, theatrekid!reader, language, violence/blood, mentions of bullying, use of explosives, mild injury, panic/fear responses

link to masterlist

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆

You’ve always considered Shoyo Hinata to be normal. 

Well, as normal as he could be. He wasn’t exactly a straight-A student and his way of making conversation was…. questionable to say the least. But you didn’t consider these ‘quirks’ to be off-putting, definitely not enough for him to get pushed around as much as he does.

He’s just a little lost, is all. Like now; it’s already second period and there’s been no sign of the guy in any of his classes. 

“This guy is seriously insane, I mean, I get he has ‘superpowers’ and all but you don’t need to be going around doing kick-flips and basically vandalizing a bunch of buildings so early in the morning.” 

The complaint of the boy next to you stops your train of thought, you glance over to his laptop screen where a proud anchor woman interviews our city’s so–called ‘hero’.

“Hm? Spider-Man? Maybe. I think he’s kinda cute though, don’t you?” you tap your pen mindlessly, resting your chin on your palm as you keep watching the screen. 

“I guess… you never know who’s behind that mask though, could be a total creep.”

“Y’know, despite what you say you don’t sound too opposed.” you tease.

“Ah- quit it! I’m just saying.. He might look strong, and- like, saving people, but…” 

“It's alright, Tadashi. I get what you mean” you laugh slightly, giving him a look before turning your attention to the time and quickly gathering your stuff.

“You going?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ve got somewhere to be, sorry” you stand up from the desk and pat his shoulder lightly. “See you later though, okay?”

“I- okay! Bye!” 

You hear him call out behind you but your mind has already drifted away as you pull your phone out and head into the hallway. You put on your earphones and hum to yourself, getting lost in your thoughts as you make your way to the building exit.

The light breeze hitting your face once you get outside feels good, a nice addition to your daydreaming. The bright head of orange hair that seems to pop up at the best of times is definitely a better addition though.

“Hey! Why’re you so late, huh?” you question and he stops in his hurried tracks, turning to you with a twinge of pink dusted across his face. He looks around for a moment making sure that it is in fact him you’re accusing in your playful interrogation.

“Hey…! Uhm, overslept?” Shoyo blurts. He seems like he’s trying to convince himself more than you, but you’ve got no reason to disagree with his alibi.

“Nice turtleneck. Spidey fan?” you gesture to the famous web-patterned fabric poking out from under his uniform, and the dusting on his cheeks grows tenfold.

“Huh? Crap- yeah! big Spider-Man fan!”

“Right… well, you might wanna change. It looks kinda dorky” you laugh and he lets out a nervous huff, you swear he got even pinker.

“Noted! I’ll definitely take it off, yeah. Uhm, what class do you have next?” he fumbles with the strap of his bag and shuffles on his feet.

“Oh! I’m gonna go audition for the spring play, so I get to miss the next class or two.”

“You’re super talented so you’ll definitely get it!” he notices your surprised expression and immediately backtracks. “I mean-! I remember when you did Cinderella, you were awesome. And.. I'll definitely go watch this one, if you’re in it…” 

“Thank you. but you realise that was second grade, right?” you can’t help the bubbly giggle that escapes your mouth as he tries to gather his next response. “I’ve gotta get going, you should too. Try not to be late again, by the way.” 

“Right!” 

One of the teachers scribble down a note. A student coughs in the back, and you can almost sense someone’s phone about to start ringing. 

The silence is awkward and almost deafening, you hold your ground. Your palms are sweaty and you shift your weight slightly.

Your teacher lowers his clipboard. “You’ve been cast every year since tenth grade,” he states dryly and takes off his glasses. “You’re always good, but what makes this year different? Why do you think you deserve the lead?”

You hesitate, forcing a smile. 

“Because I’ve grown. I’ve worked harder this year. I’m not just trying—I’m pushing myself. I know where I want to be, and I know that’s what I should be chasing.”

Your teacher raises an eyebrow, expression unreadable. He looks down and writes onto his clipboard. 

“Very well.” he says in a monotone voice. “Callbacks will be posted outside the drama studio next week.”

You step off the stage, keeping your head high as you hear people murmur to their friends.

“Kinda dramatic… it’s not like the school needs charity from this play or anything”

“Didn’t Osborn’s dad sponsor the set design again?”

“Maybe. Rich people are weird.”

Shoyo went through his own day as normal; answer a few questions wrong in maths, think about you, get a nice spot at lunch where he can watch you with your friends, think about you some more…

Okay, maybe it was a little creepy, but can you blame the guy? You’re the girl next door, and pretty much the most popular girl in the 12th grade—and you happen to show him the least bit of attention? He'd be nuts if he said he wasn’t crazy about you- okay.

Not to mention, word got out that you recently broke things off with your super douche-bag boyfriend. So now might just be the time to strike. 

Unfortunately for Shoyo, things were never that easy. He had a gift- or a burden- whatever works in this context. He had an anomaly, an anomaly that meant he had other responsibilities. With great anomalies come great responsibilities! Anyways.

Sadly, this anomaly had many times deprived him from your attention that he so longed for; missing out on a school field trip with you, or half of a conversation that might have been in science. Sometimes he wondered if devoting himself to the safety of others was really worth it all, but he’d like to think he could juggle both.

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Shoyo stumbles through the crowded hallway—clutching his bag to his chest as he gets shoved around like a pinball.

He makes it back to his locker, taking note of the new absurdity scribbled so nicely in the middle of the metal door. As he grabs his books he tries to keep his head down, but the sight of you at your own locker just a couple lengths away makes him forget any worries he might have had.

You have a fake flower tucked behind your ear, he notices. Probably something you got at the audition. He should probably ask how it went. God, you’re pretty.

You turn and walk away, you catch up with your friend and shoyo can only gaze longingly after you. Moments like these where he managed to catch a glimpse of you so comfortable, so laid back... They made him realise that maybe things aren’t so bad after all. 

“Ugh, do you have to be so vile?” You grimace as your friend squirts about half a bottle of ketchup on her burger.

The rest of the school day had gone by in a haze, and you decided you guys could use some time to talk over your auditions before heading home.

The food court felt alive with the buzz of people and the loud chatter of students, nothing felt out of the ordinary.

You almost didn’t hear the first scream.

It came from somewhere below you on the first floor, sharp and desperate. More screaming followed and you could see people scattering from the atrium like insects.

“What’s going on?” You stood up, peering over the railing. You didn’t see anything until—

BOOM.

The screams intensify, some cut short as debris and dust detonates throughout the mall. Your friends tug at your arm, trying to pull you towards the exit but you stand there frozen in shock as you watch the scene unfold.

You grip the railing, trying to peer through the nebula of rubble and catch a glimpse of what might have caused the destruction. The dust begins to settle and for a moment it goes quiet as a mechanical whirring fills the stunned silence.

In a flash of green and metal, it whizzes out from the wrecking. What appears to be a man dressed in green armor and a disgustingly evil mask swoops over the wreckage on his glider, laughing maniacally. He definitely succeeds in making an entrance.

You stare with your mouth agape, barely comprehending the situation as another explosion goes off and the floor breaks beneath you.

You scream. You’re falling down from 3 levels up and there’s no way you’d make it. You’ll never know if you got that role, you’ll never eat that chicken sandwich you had in the fridge. Your heart lurches in your chest—but something catches you.

It’s not the floor.

It’s a pair of arms.

If you screamed you probably couldn’t hear it over the sound of the wind and your jacket flapping wildly behind you. 

A blur of red and blue is all you can see in front of you, along with the musky smell of sweat as you’re swung to safety. You stumble slightly as your feet touch the ground by a fire exit.

“You okay?” His voice is a bit muffled behind the mask, but in close proximity like this you can hear him perfectly.

You nod, letting go of him. “..You’re Spider-Man”

“Uh, yeah.” He tilts his head at you slightly. Another crash in the background quickly pulls him away quickly though, and you can barely call out or express your gratitude before he swings back into the destruction.

You’re left a bit dazed. It shouldn’t be that shocking, Spider-Man is a public figure, he saves a lot of people. Right? Doesn’t matter. You watch from a safe distance as he seems to effortlessly diffuse the situation—helping other people to safety and avoiding counter-actions from the green guy.

The way he moves is so graceful, like a gymnast. Spider-man is too cool.

“You fight like a gymnast,” Goblin sneers, circling the hero. “-but you bleed like a boy!”

Spider-man acts quickly, webbing a table from a collapsed kiosk and launching it at Goblin and his glider. The glider swerves, the table knocking Goblin off balance as he throws a hand grenade in Spider-Man’s direction. 

The bomb lands, sending a blast of heat and metal fragments through the air as well as Spider-Man himself. He manages to shoot a web at a collapsed railing and catch himself before swinging full force at Goblin. As he lands on the glider, the villain anticipates his attack and throws a punch into the boy’s face with full force.

He can feel the blood from his busted lip leaking into his mask, but he perseveres. Spider-Man manages to stay on the glider and he throws a counter-punch. Goblin blocks his hit and the glider swerves, throwing the boy off balance as he plummets to the hard tile below.

Spider-man groans in pain, trying not to let himself be deterred as he stands up. His legs wobble, why was he feeling scared? He had fought a lot of bad guys before, not necessarily supervillains but plenty of hardcore thugs. In much worse environments than this, too. Despite all that, Green Goblin was taking the shit out of him. It felt like he was getting in his head, without even saying a word.

He pushes those thoughts away, braving himself into a protective stance as he thinks over his next move. He doesn’t get much of a chance as a high pitched beeping alerts him to look down. Crap. 

The pumpkin bomb explodes, it sends him flying backwards and more debris shoots up into the air.

His back hits a pillar and for a moment the world slows. His eyes flutter and his head is spinning, he tries to regain some composure as Goblin swerves over on his glider. 

The villain descends, stepping off his glider with a sharp clank of his metal boots to the tile flooring. He steps closer, snickering at the collapsed heap of red and blue that stands out prominently in the wreckage of smoke and destruction.

“Not quite the performance I was expecting from our city’s one and only Spider-Man..” Goblin taunts lowly, his voice mechanical and sinister behind the faceplate seemingly made for fear. “I was hoping for a real fight, but instead, here you are.. Hurt and weak like a squashed bug. I thought the spider was supposed to bite.”

Spider-Man huffs and props his arm up behind him, barely upright as he struggles to breathe through the ringing in his ears.

“You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that. But right now, you’re flailing in a world you don’t understand.” Goblin leans down to his level, the metallic mask reflects Spider-Man’s dazed expression as he heaves slightly. “You’re wasted on these people. They run when things get loud, they’d turn on you the second they felt doubt.”

“They’ll never thank you, Spider-Man. But I will.” he extends a hand gloved in more leafy green metal, fingers open in malicious offer. “Join me, Spider-Man. We can change this city. We can rule this city.”

Spider-Man heaves again, eyes fluttering behind the white mesh of his mask. “I’d  rather die.”

He doesn’t know why he said it, really. It seemed like the Spider-Man thing to do. Goblin proceeded to start cackling loudly and step back onto his glider, so maybe it was a dumb thing to say to the first real supervillain you fight.

“Poor choice, bug-boy.” the glider starts whirring loudly, the breeze blowing over Spider-Man’s collapsed form and bringing him further back into consciousness. “I offered you a future, with power and purpose... But you’d rather break your bones for people who scream at the sight of you.”

Spider-Man can barely process the mocking voice of his emerald adversary as he looks up at Goblin. “...Yeah.” He murmurs dumbly, his head still spinning from the impact.

“Think it over. You’ll see things my way soon enough.” 

Goblin almost threatens the boy, giving him a glare through the evil sneer of his mask before the glider makes a large swoop and shoots up through the shattered skylight.

The sirens wail in the distance and the headlights of ambulances in the dark pave the way for emergency crews to arrive. But Spider-Man is long gone.

The fluorescent light in the bathroom is dim, it buzzes softly. Shoyo leans over the sink, water dripping from his face in uneven trails. His mask lay discarded nearby, it’s stained and frayed at the edges from the explosion. His reflection stares back at him, pale and bruised and scared.

The sound of the TV is muffled through the wall—Natsu’s watching cartoons, something cheerful.

Shoyo touches his side and flinches, his ribs ache. There’s a smear of blood on the porcelain and he swipes at it quickly.

This isn’t a game anymore. That guy could’ve killed me.

He looks over at the mask. He hesitates.

She was there—he could’ve killed her.

His knuckles grip the sink tighter, the fear threatening to bubble up to the surface manifesting itself into determination.

I’ve never seen something like that. He wasn’t a mugger or an arsonist—this guy wants to destroy everything. For fun. He’s dangerous.

One more splash of water on his face. He dries his face with a towel and looks back up at the mirror.

If I’m gonna do this, I need to be smarter. Stronger. I need to be—

“—Spider-man.” he says to himself, like it’s the first time it’s ever meant something.

Shoyo picks up the discarded mask. He turns to the door, pausing. He takes one more look at his shaken appearance before flicking off the light.

A/N: HOLY COW!! how was that? I had so much fun writing this!! chapter 2 will hopefully be up soon, so stay tuned! drop me and ask to be added to the taglist!!

thanks to @bernardsbendystraws for spidey dividers :]

[sashasspace]

Read Manga Online

REQUIRED: SimKatu's Desktop Override + XML Injector — SCUMBUMBO

MUST HAVE THE BOOKWORM TRAIT*

UPDATE Jan 5/2025: Thank you SonozakiSisters for catching some minor errors ♥ 1. I have updated some stuff like the interaction appearing for all sims when it's meant for bookworm sims only. 2. The interaction won't complete on its own unless you cancel it, so I fixed that, too. 3. I also fixed the inspired moodlet to have +3. 4. Lastly, I created a cute custom buff for sims who complete the want! (look at the second last pic to see the buff) I hope your weekend is/was amazing ♥

Growing up in Ontario Canada, I loved reading manga. My library had many for me to read and I used to get so excited! Recently, while I was playing with a cringe sim [For Rent], I noticed an interaction called scour for memes and it's when a sim is feeling playful, they can search for memes online. I was so shocked at how cute the screen looked while my sim was looking at these memes because it reminded me of the manga I would scroll and read.

Long story short, I found out it's an override after going into the vanilla game LOL! However, I still felt it would be nice for bookworm sims to have this and to share it for storytelling purposes.

How does the mod work?

You click the PC, and go to the web section, and click "Read Manga". Then your sim will read a manga and have one of 6 moodlets (4 positive & 2 negative as seen in the last picture). There's a custom want your sim can have too and it only shows up for bookworm sims. This mod is for child to elder sims. All ages have the same moodlets, except I removed the confident buff for the child sim.

Don't forget to download Simkatu's override and XML injector mod for it to show up in the game.

At this point... Bookworm Overhaul mod may just be a thing, and I will combine analyze books, read manga, and a future wip all into one mod LOL!!!

Fun fact: I made the icon for the custom want by using two in-game icons and combining them (I used base game and hsy icon I believe). I think this is my first interaction mod too? I love how much I'm learning with this journey of modding. Thank you for being patient with me♥

Credit

DanitySimmer & ImTashaMonet for teaching me about modding

SimKatu for the lovely desk override

Bookwormsims for encouraging me to make mods for bookworms

ThatssoJordy for always pushing me

Zerbu MC5, XML injector, Sims4Studio, Lot51 tuning, Nisa Tuning Error Notifier, TwistedMexi Better Exceptions, Lumpinou Wants Reroll & The Sims/ EA Maxis.

SonozakiSisters for helping me with understanding weights for moodlets to not appear

Brazilian Portuguese Translation

Russian Translation

French Translation

Ukrainian Translation

Spanish Translation

Thank you for all your support!

Sending lots of love and positive vibes,

Sasha 

For any modder who wants to translate any of my mods, I don't mind if you upload it on your Patreon or any other website that monetizes, BUT I do not want you to post it on CurseForge. I would also like it if you keep the mods up publicly for download no early access.

I realized I didn't post the mod on my tumblr ♥

[a-d-nox]

wyrd web: what to gift a person based these three numbers

this is just a theory of mine because these bubbles of the matrix should represent earthly desires. this is not to say that you can't enjoy things not listed in your category / under your energetic number. this is simply what i believe people with these numbers would enjoy receiving as a gift.

paid reading options: astrology menu & cartomancy menu

enjoy my work? help me continue creating by tipping on ko-fi or paypal. your support keeps the magic alive!

2 - the high priestess

things that support their spiritual practices, things that support feminine health (hum women's probiotics bundle, honey pot oral vaginal care probiotic, etc), bake goods / baking gear, barbecue sauce sampler / grilling gear (for the dads pt 2), bar in a jar (for those of drinking age) or really any beverage tester kit, bath/spa kit, beach vacation, boat, cruise, careof for brain support, truly nice melons boob butter, candles (it doesn't have to be yankee candle either - bent candles, spiced votive candle, etc) or candle making kit, imported cheeses, clothing staples (blue jeans, black turtleneck, etc), juice cleanse or other things that support digestive health, cooking classes or meal kits (hellofresh, homechef, etc), a tarot/astrology/mediumship reading, or outdoor cameras or other home security tools

3 - the empress

pillows, stuffed animals, rose quartz, personal celebrity cameo, clothing, tickets for an art museum tour, ballet tickets or classes, art supplies, makeup pallets and/or brushes, flowers, jewelry, candy/sweets, money, bells / wind chimes, clothing, designer pieces, cosmetics, dolls, a trip to a fancy restaurant, fruit basket / dried fruits, gardening supplies, jewelry, concert/orchestra tickets, poetry book, tickets to a play, a purse, lingerie (if y'all are close like that), trip to a vineyard (for those of drinking age), couples' dancing classes, or a wallet

4 - the emperor

skincare, rock climbing voucher or some other physical activity they enjoy, an adrenaline rush activity (skydiving, bungee jumping, etc), careof for brain support, crafted wooden objects (cutting boards, tables, etc), coffee trials/samplers, sunglasses, blue light glasses, hair care products/supplies, scalp treatments/care, oral health care (thera breath, whitening products, etc), meditation app subscriptions / in person sessions for meditation, or a planner

5 - the hierophant

moss agate (don't question how random that sounds this is some intuitive stuff), artwork, an architectural tour, beauty products/supplies, historically significant objects, pastries or sweets/candies, earrings, sour dough starter kit, jewelry in general, piano/organ lessons, singing lessons, a wallet, or any classes where they can learn something fun and new to them

6 - the lovers

car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), bicycle or bicycle accessories/gear, books (the more educational the better), briefcase / work tote, bus tickets for a day trip, gym membership or soulcycle classes, crystals, a standing desk / cute office supplies (for the work girlies both those who work in office and from home), hand & foot message, manicure voucher, newspaper subscription (i am a fan of new york times, washington post, and the new yorker), language classes or rosetta stone subscription, magazines subscription, merchandise from their favorite singer / group / tv show / movie, train trip, or we're not really strangers card packs

7 - the chariot

gardening supplies, hermit crab, baked goods, bath products / beauty products, boat, cruise, car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), truly nice melons boob butter, juice cleanse, gut health thrive market kit, glassware / blown glass, stuff they need / need for their home (security system, chest freezer, etc), hotel or bed & breakfast stay, kitchenware, lake trip, pearls, real estate / land, restaurant voucher / gift card, silver jewelry, shopping gift cards, a trip, or intention journal

8 - strength

amusement park tickets, supplies for their passion projects, ballroom dancing classes, tea sampler, games (video games or board games), movie theater gift card, personal celebrity cameo, flower garden supplies/seeds, stuff for their pet, or a belt

9 - the hermit

pet related gifts (if they have a pet that is), bookshelves (they probably need one), juice cleanse, gut health thrive market kit, a cat, clothing, oral health products (thera breath, whitening products, etc), stationary, emergency preparedness (ready to eat meals, fire blanket, etc), cook books, dining ware (new plates/bowls, cups / glassware, silverware, etc), food subscriptions (home chef, hello fresh, pickle of the month club, bokksu japanese snack box, etc), careof subscription, gloves, herb garden kit, a one way ticket to anywhere, or a hiking trip

10 - wheel of fortune

incense, cleansing herbs, bow and arrow, sapling, land, dried berries, budget book, gym/exercise membership, religious/spiritual/philosophical books, poker set, cloth (if they like sowing), wool (if they like weaving, crocheting, and/or knitting), wool clothing, a coat, trip to a country or place they have never been, oral health products (thera breath, whitening products, etc), etiquette classes/books (this is great for the traveler because they are often interested in learning customs before going on their trip), figs, fruit basket (like edible arrangements), honey sampler / royal jelly, horseback riding lessons, lottery tickets, merchandise from their favorite singer / group/ tv show / movie, shoes, really any game, any subscription they have not tried, things that support their spiritual practices, or book on positive mindset

11 - justice

personal celebrity cameo, tickets to a ballet or to an art gallery, air purifier, portable heating pad, spa voucher, cosmetics, lingerie (if y'all are close), closet organizational items (space saving hangers, linen bins, accessory hanger, etc), pastries and sweets, diamonds (perhaps propose to your lover), a dress, tickets to a fashion show or exhibit, flowers, a luxury chair, jewelry, concert tickets, poetry books, any quartz pieces, chocolates dipped strawberries, hair extensions, logic puzzles, a voucher for an escape room, or a kitchen/baking scale

12 - the hanged man

bar in a jar (if they are of drinking age), a book on angel numbers, a book on natural medical remedies, ballet classes or tickets to see a ballet, bath bombs and other bath goodies (salt, bath table, candles, sugar scrub, bath teas, etc), beach vacation, tea or coffee sampler, butterfly farm kit with caterpillars, disposable camera or a camera they would like (polaroid, filming, etc), scientific kits (geode kit, grow your own crystals, etc), cigars (for the dads in your life), unsolved mysteries or crime kit, dance classes, smutty/romance/fantasy books, fairy garden, a tarot/astrology/mediumship reading, budget book, makeup palettes or other cosmetic they enjoy, concert tickets, paint, poetry books, clue the board game, a pass to an indoor pool, a book on poppet making, meditation membership or a voucher for in-person sessions, or something to support their curiosity for new spiritual insight

13 - death

hermit crab, a jumping spider, a reptile, homeopathic books for natural cures and remedies, operation the game, butcherbox subscription, a book on how to cook and trim meats, beginners chemistry kit, a colon cleanse, sea monkeys, unsolved mysteries or crime kit, philosophy of death books, books on magic, magic the gathering the card game, period products (portable heating pad, the diva cup, etc), poisonous plants (belladonna, foxglove, lily of the valley, etc), a frog pond, a scorpion, a snake, a burr/boo basket (these people love seasonal stuff), or marie kondo's life changing magic of tidying up

14 - temperance

a hunting trip, bow and arrows, books on religion or philosophy, book of devotions, book on dream meanings (hello, freud haha), a certification course or college class, horseback riding lessons (for the newbie or a younger sibling or your child/niece/nephew), horse drawn carriage ride (for the couples *smirk*), logic puzzles, things that support their goals, or a book of angel number meanings

15 - the devil

a fan or air conditioning unit, if you have the land for it a cow/horse/goat, kinetic tape, arnicare bruise cream (this is a joke... unless...), coal or a diamond (this is also a joke... unless...), a clock or a watch, cuticle trimmer (and other nail care things), room darkening curtains, a happy lamp, lotion/cream, hat/scarf/gloves, hair products (extensions, shampoo subscription, etc), leather fashion-ware, gardening supplies, ice maker, or a juice cleanse

16 - the tower

tiger balm or other pain relieving ointment, acrobatic/gymnastic classes, homeopathic books for natural cures and remedies, first-aid kit, baking kits, barbecue sauce sampler, barbecue sauce sampler / grilling gear (for the dads), gift card for haircut, dollar shave club (for the dads pt 2), metal works (spoon handle rings, metal roses, etc), boxing lessons, boxing match tickets or monster truck tickets, butcherbox subscription, a book on how to cook and trim meats, crafted wooden objects (cutting boards, tables, etc), cactus plant, beginners chemistry kit, cookbook, pocket knife or leatherman/multitool, tool kit, jenga, emergency kit, food, first aid kit, merchandise for their favorite superhero(es), electric lighter, liqour or bar in a jar (if they are of drinking age), rock music (a vinyl or concert tickets), pepper plant, pipe for smoking (if they like to smoke that is - my grandfather had a collection), lego kit, or lincoln logs

17 - the star

friendship bracelets, a fan / ac unit, model airplane, flight lessons, compression stockings/socks, architectural tour, astrology reading, car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), club memberships (golf, racket ball, sam's, etc), electronic devices (a new phone, amazon fire stick, solar portable charger, etc), movie on blue-ray or dvd, movie gift card, a camera (polaroid or another type they have been eyeing), disposable cameras, camera gear, shadow work journal, aesthetically pleasing bluetooth retro radio, streaming service subscription, a book on health or mental health, or a book on positivity

18 - the moon

abstract art, bar in a jar (if they are of legal age), a fish, a fish tank, tickets to an aquarium, cocktail book (if they are of legal age), a fishing trip (for the dads), book of conspiracy theories, the conspiracy theory map, a crystal ball, unsolved mysteries or crime kit, a jellyfish, a tarot/astrology/mediumship reading, a camera (polaroid or another type they have been eyeing), disposable cameras, camera gear, poetry book, hydroponic starter system, games that involve bluffing (clue, poker, herd mentality, etc), shoes, sleeping eye mask, silk pillow cases, new bed sheets, bonnet, socks, a computer keyboard, typewriter, a book on shadow work, a puppy, or a book on dream meanings

19 - the sun

maine coon, autobiographical books, ballroom dancing lessons, poker set, oral health products (thera breath, whitening products, etc), card games, personal celebrity cameo, circus fruit basket, chocolate gold coins, classes that encourage creativity (create it and break it sessions, pottery classes, etc), jewelry or an engagement ring (if it's been more than 2 years y'all should know what you are doing at this point), flowers, indoor herb garden, tickets to race of some sort (cars, horse, sporting events, etc), sporting equipment, ivy plant, a pottery painting voucher / gift certificate, or something for their passion project / hobby

20 - judgment

a reptile, ant farm, a guide on astral projection, operation the game, the chameleon game, clue game, unsolved case files game, grand theft auto video game, assassins creed video game, dungeons and dragons the game, yahtzee, emergency preparedness kit, magician kit, poisonous plants (belladonna, foxglove, lily of the valley, etc), the divine comedy, puzzles, a rodent of some sort, or lingerie (if y'all are close)

21 - the world

gardening supplies, acoustic guitar, air conditioning or fan, architectural tour, teddy bear, snow globe, boots, calendar or planner, supergoop (sun protectant) products, wooden objects (cutting board, chest, box, etc), carpet, clay (air drying or via kiln), a clock or watch, compression stockings/socks, collectible coins, pain patches or kinetic tape, crystals, budget book, lotions for dry skin, dried fruits, gloves/mittens, hair care products, ice machine or ice making trays, ice cream subscription, pottery classes, rain coat, real estate or land, zen sand garden, sculpture, or snake

22 - the fool

flight lessons, model airplane, a flight to anywhere, car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), an astrology reading, bath products, biking gear, movie theatre gift card, clock or watch, club memberships (golf, racket ball, sam's, etc), mood lighting or strip lights, a train ride, fun magnets, motorcycle accessories/training, microphone (maybe they are filming or recording something), patterns for cross stitch / knitting / crocheting, a camera (polaroid or another type they have been eyeing), disposable cameras, camera gear, stuff for the tv (surround sound, sound bar, streaming subscription, etc), or classes for one of their interests

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[loveanddeephistory]

Requiem for Revenge

Trowels and Scales Ch 3

Ao3

Ch 2

About: As much as you love your job, finding consistency is difficult to say the least. In between jobs and conferences you spend more time with your enigmatic boyfriend and partner in crime. While you love him, you can tell something still divides you. You need his trust to make this work. How to get it is a different question entirely.

Contains spoilers for: Just about all of Raf's lore. Afternoon arclight, when light falls, oceanic nightfall four stars.

TW/CW: Mentions of hanging from afternoon arclight! Maggot mention (based on a real thing that happened to a classmate), some angst from Oceanic Nightfall.

Word Count: 24k

A/N: At the rate and length I'm writing, anticipate once a month updates, give or take. Graduating from college and moving back home kept me busy! I can't promise consistency, but this merman has burrowed too deep into my brain for me to not continue this. Chapters are long so I hope that makes up for it!

Divider credit: @thecutestgrotto

The glow of your computer screen illuminated your face and the area around your desk. The low but bright light painted a hue over everything in the room, making everything look ever so slightly off. Two tabs were open on your computer, for wildly different reasons. One, a set of interviews from an art magazine featuring your lovely boyfriend. The other, a job hunting website specifically for archaeologists like you.

One of the many downsides to your beloved job was that if you were not working for a bigger company, you were not likely to find consistent employment. Hence why you were thrilled with your good luck in having the grant extended at the museum. Between that and a few excavations under your belt, you had solid work for a while. But as summer continued to drag on, those opportunities slowly began to dry up. Thankfully you still had one more month's worth of work at that museum. Plenty of time to keep looking. 

In between your job hunt and current job, you found yourself in the throws of research anyway. Ever. The events of the past several months still hung over your head, what was once a dark cloud grew larger and larger. An entire storm hung over your shoulders. Threatening to sweep you up and away with its gales. Even now as you sit at your desk, eyes trained on the corkboard before you, the doom and gloom settled on your shoulders. Your back. You could feel it in every move you made. The spider web had only grown in size. With the new additions of the events in Verona and Rafayel's involvement at the museum. While you knew he did the right thing, it still weighed on you. He didn't wait. He didn't tell you.

He just broke in to your place of work, and got you in a heap of trouble.

Clearly not his intent, he even said as much. But as you gently thumb the pearl hanging between your collarbones you can't help but feel a twinge of frustration. If he wanted you to work with him, that meant he needed to be upfront with you, too. He needed to be honest with you. He can't just shut you out- and even if he does, it's not right for you to catch flak for it. While you had an alibi and a confirmed location this time, reputation was a good half of this discipline. And you couldn't risk having it marred like that. 

Your eyes lift to the figure in the center of it all. The epicenter of this ever growing spiderweb.

Rafayel himself.

You know so much and yet so little. 

The vulnerability of revealing his inhuman nature was not something to cast aside, certainly. But he still hid so much. He got in and out of the museum far too easily. The camera footage wiped, not a single piece of dna evidence, not so much as a footprint or a single other artifact askew. He has to be experienced. You tried to do a deep dive on his past, whatever he'd be willing to share with whatever magazine was interviewing him, but found nothing. Everything about his life up to when he came to Linkon was a complete and utter mystery. Admittedly, that made sense. He's up to something, and he's needed to cover his tracks. So why would he be such a public figure now?

You close your eyes and rub them. When you open them again, Rafayel's name greets you at the center of your cork board. It all began when you met him. He still maintained that he wasn't the one involved with the other archaeologists, and given how closely Ever has been following you? You were inclined to believe him. But you couldn't shake the foul taste in your mouth. He still went behind your back and stole from your place of work. He didn't think to clue you in or ask for alternatives. And with how smoothly he did it? It looked to you like he's done it before.

You sigh. Lips pressed together in a thin line. He's at the center of all of this, one way or another. 

You switch back to the tab for job hunting. There were a few jobs posted, though none of them were particularly appealing. None of them were in your field, not even your mentor's field either. While you were qualified in theory, in practice they'd be more likely to pick a specialist over you. Someone trained in that kind of research. Arctic expeditions were getting pretty big at the moment but you were not trained for that at all. And while land excavations were something you knew how to do, the specifics of various regions would require some level of additional training on your end.

You groan and smack your face against the keyboard. 

A soft bzzt brought you out of your job hunt misery. You tug your phone out of your pocket, finding an email notification. It wasn't from anyone you recognized. The subject line caught your eye. Potential Partnership. You hesitate, but open the email. If it's spam you can just delete it. You know better than to click any links so you'd be fine.

Hello there,

You don't know me, but I know your mentor, Hannah. We're not friends, but we've worked together before. I momentarily saw you in Verona but didn't wish to interrupt your work. My name is Louis. I'm a detective in Verona who worked on the Sea Monster murders, freelance. The final kill was a couple years back. Some of the details still don't line up, and I have a feeling someone with a biological anthropology background might be able to put some of these issues to bed. I also know about the disappearances regarding the Lemurian expedition, and I think a partnership would be mutually beneficial to bring them home. You help me, I help you.

Of course, I'll pay you for your time. If you need anything from me to verify my identity and credentials just let me know. Hannah can vouch for me, too. 

Hope to hear from you soon,

Louis

You cock your head. Louis... that didn't sound like a name Dr. C had ever mentioned to you. You screenshot the email and the email address, turning around and texting it to your mentor to get her take on the situation.

You: Dr. C, I just got this email. Louis says he knows you. Thoughts?

You: Images attached

Dr. C: Absolutely not

Dr. C: Ew

You snort at her immediate response. She was typically good about remaining polite and professional. For her to say 'ew' about anyone was a big deal. So whoever this Louis guy was, she did not like him in the slightest. You immediately move the email to spam, not interested at all if Dr. C didn't approve.

Dr. C: He's not worth your time. The one time I helped with an excavation in Verona he wouldn't stop snooping around, he fell into the trench, and messed with the artifacts.

Dr. C: Whatever he's willing to pay you isn't enough. I don't care what it is. You're an adult, do what you want, but I wouldn't trust him.

You: Yikes

You: Yeah, ew, thanks for the head's up

Dr. C: Anytime kiddo. 

Dr. C: Hey, how's Raf doing? He's been MIA on campus for a few weeks. All classes postponed, not responding to emails

You tilt your head. Now that you thought about it, in your job hunt you hadn't heard from him in a moment, either. No big deal, sometimes you both just got busy and forgot to touch base. But it had been a couple days too long since at least getting a cheeky artsy birb emoji or Reddie update.

You: I don't know! Sometimes he'll just vanish when inspiration strikes him, or when it's missing for too long. 

You: I'll swing by his studio. I've been meaning to talk to him about something anyway

Dr. C: Sweet, tell him I said hi. I still owe him a guest lecture for his help on the island

Now that she mentioned it, you still felt like you owed him one for the assist on the island as well. Helping you evade Ever and stay safe without having to worry about money was a big favor on his end. Sure, he was wealthy enough he didn't have to worry about it too much. But you had your pride, it was only fair you return the favor somehow. You turn off your computer, grab your shoes and keys, and head towards the bus stop. Once you sit down on the bench, opening your text message chat with Rafayel. The last exchange had been a few days ago. Just talking about a stupid social media trend that had taken the internet by storm. As you browse through your past messages, the multiple animated gifs of the little artsy birb made you smile. 

You hit the familiar contact photo, the one where he was making a silly face at Reddie, only for it to go straight to voicemail.

"Sorry, the number you dialed is not in the mood for phone calls. Please try again later."

You can't help btu snort at his usual dramatics, even in his voicemail notice. Instead you shoot him a quick text, giving him a heads up.

You: Hey Rafy! Mind if I pop by? I haven't heard from you in a while, I need to check on my favorite boys

You: That being you and Reddie, of course

You turn off your phone and pocket it. Luckily the bus was already pulling up. Great timing on your end, all things considered. As the bus slowed to a stop in front of you, you grab your bag and hop on. You figure you might as well swing by a local convenience store and pick up some snacks for the both of you. Worst case scenario, if something came up, you'd have some extra snacks on hand while you head back to your place. The image of your corkboard and computer was burned into your eyes, to the point you'd see them even with your eyes shut. You shut them tight and dig the heels of your palms into your eyes as if you were trying to erase them manually.

Rafayel. It all goes back to Rafayel. Why does it all go back to Rafayel? He's more involved in whatever this was than he was letting on. Why was he hiding it? You'd feel bad for doubting him. If he hadn't broken into your place of work.

You lean back in your seat, turning your eyes up to the ceiling of the bus. You couldn't find it in you to be too angry at him. The bone needed to be returned to the ocean. Who knows how he was feeling after the funeral, seeing the skeleton of a Lemurian in Raymond's home. The image you constructed in your mind made your lips go dry. The skeleton, posed in some way. Not merely an art piece.

A corpse. A being displayed like a damn trophy.

A shudder ripped through you. Rafayel did the right thing- the entirely wrong way. He joked about repatriation, but instead of waiting and discussing options, he broke in and took it.

You shake your head side to side in contemplation. Well... honestly, you get it. The bone likely wasn't given to the museum intentionally. Even if K, the donor, was Lemurian himself that would call other things into question. Was the end goal always to return it to the ocean? Was it an accident? Was it left at the museum to protect it? If it wasn't meant for the museum it wasn't necessarily morally wrong for Raf to take it back and put it where it belongs. Hell, how many times had you fantasized doing the same to the British Museum? 

That wasn't the issue, though. The real issue was that he did it behind your back. You slip further down in your seat, grumbling absentmindedly. Your mind a mess of convoluted, complicated thoughts. You agreed with Raf, after all. The bone needed to be repatriated, and it isn't safe for him to reveal that he's a Lemurian. But why didn't he tell you? Did he think you'd stop him? Try to dissuade him? Your fingers brush the pearl, and your thoughts still.

You lift the pearl charm to your face, admiring it in the lighting. Rafayel was crafty, creative. Looking at the charm, it looked like he made it himself. Winding the wire with painstaking care, turning a straight line into a beautiful fishtail. You tilt your head slowly, taking in every detail. The pearl was beautiful. The prettiest one you'd ever laid eyes on. You gingerly bring it to your lips and press a kiss to it. You'd talk with Rafayel. He needs to remember you're on his side, and he needs to communicate these kinds of things to you.  But you can't force it. You didn't mention it when all of this went down. Yeah sure, go ahead and scold your mourning boyfriend while he's basically doing a funeral by himself. Great idea! What a wonderful partner you'd be! 

You gently thumb the chain of your necklace. This would be the first hard conversation in your relationship, but it was necessary. No need to put it off, just make sure he's okay and not in the middle of something, sit him down, and talk! Just a 'hey babe, maybe don't steal things from my workplace? We need to work together, we could have figured something out!' 

The bus rolled up to your stop. You stand up, toss your bag over your shoulder, and hop off. The nearest convenience store is just down the road. You make a pit stop there, going through the store on auto pilot. Too busy thinking about how to handle this conversation. 'Hey babe I know your people are being slaughtered for some reason but you almost got me in trouble' is not the way to do it. 'I want to help you but I need you to let me' is an option, but you weren't sure how he'd handle it.

You aimlessly drift past a shelf when a familiar package caught your eye. You pause, turning back around. No way. No way! You scurry back, lifting the package. This was one of your favorite snacks growing up! How did they have this on hand?! You grab a package, before finding more familiar packages lying around. You weave in and out of the aisles, finding a multitude of your old favorites. You grab a handful, before making your way to checkout. You'll have to share these with Raf! He might not be a fan with his refined palate, but at least it would be something to bond over. 

With a bag full of nostalgic goodies, you turn and walk through Whitesand Bay.

The crisp ocean breeze, the smell of salt. Distant laughter, seagull cries. You slowly breathe. Take it all in. While not the same by any means, you couldn't help but compare it to Verona. By the ocean, salt in the air, the cries of gulls. People running and laughing down the more modern paths. Maybe when Rafayel moved here, it was for that exact reason. While he claimed he wasn't native to Verona- and how knows if he was being honest about that- maybe he settled here because it reminded him of it.

But you knew the real, primary reason. The ocean. Right outside his door, visible from almost all windows in his home. A private section of the beach that is his and his alone. Hell, if you were in his shows you'd want to settle by the ocean too. Even in your own circumstances you wanted to live closer to the ocean. It had been your first love, your own muse. The tides seemed to call to you, sing to you.

It was that lullaby that brought you to the old myths of Lemuria. The entire reason you started this journey all those years ago. 

You move the gate and hop up the steps, the familiar surroundings giving way to Rafayel's home and studio. A simple glance around the property didn't show any signs of a struggle. Rafayel could handle himself, but since Ever was after him you couldn't help but worry from time to time. Didn't help he left the gate and door unlocked. You knock on the door a few times, waiting and hoping he'd answer. Or at least shoot you a text. Acknowledgment of any kind would be beneficial. Thankfully, you hear rustling on the other side of the door. A bang, a curse mixed into a wince, and the general chaos you'd grown oh so familiar with. As the door opened Rafayel stood before you. Shirt disheveled, hair a mess, deep bags under his eyes. He squinted and raised a hand to protect them from the sunlight, groaning.

"Who...? Oh, it's too early." You fish your phone out of your pocket to look at the time.

"Too early? The sun is up! Were you asleep, did I wake you?"

"I don't remember when I last slept. My sleep cycle has been messed up lately. Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" His tone, while groggy, became mildly petulant. You open your text chain with him and turn it, showing it to him as proof.

"I tried, called and texted you, you know. I haven't heard from you in a while. I was starting to wonder if you'd been kidnapped!" You tuck your phone away once more as he slowly nods, before scoffing.

"Me? Kidnapped? Puh-lease, the kidnappers would probably beg me to leave them alone." Rafayel moved out of the way, a silent invitation for you to join him in his home. You enter and remove your dirty shoes, though with how messy his home was at the minute you weren't sure if it made a big difference. Boxes filled the room, and canvases and paint ingredients were strewn across the place. "I don't remember where I put my cellphone. It's probably dead now. Help me look for it, will you?" You shift your bag of snacks and set it to the side. The rustle of the bag made him perk up.

"What's that in your hand?"

"Oh, these?" You hold up the bag again. "On my way over I found a convenience store that had all of my favorite nostalgic snacks. Figured I'd grab a few before I came here." He huffed again, although it appeared more playful than actually frustrated.

"Looks like you weren't that concerned about me after all. You just had to grab food for yourself before coming to my rescue." You put the bag back down, laughing at his melodrama.

"What did you expect me to do? Throw away the snacks and come running in tears?" You prop a hand on your hip to match his sass, trying to fight back a grin

"Haven't you seen those movies where the female lead finds out the male lead is in trouble, drops the delicious food she's holding, and leaves the house crying to look for him?" Rafayel bats his eyes and put the back of his hand against his forehead, imitating a swoon. You snort.

"Hah, in your dreams. I spent money on these!" You turn back to the rest of the room again. His living room slash studio was truly a mess. You at least could see Reddie's tank from here, but you couldn't see much else. "Hey, are you moving? Why are there cardboard boxes and drawings all over the place?" You'd like to think he would've told you by now if he was, but given recent events? He didn't seem all that inclined to being honest with you about big things. The thought momentarily made you frown. He didn't give you long to dwell on the thought.

"The boxes are stuff I bought online. As for those drawings, well, I no longer need them." He shrugged, nudging one of the drawings to the side with his foot. You kneel down to take a better look at it, admiring his use of color and lighting. He truly was a master of his craft. Each brushstroke or swoop of graphite held some kind of emotion or passion. It was remarkable to behold. How could he simply plan to get rid of these?

"They look pretty good. I can help you recycle them free of charge." Your eyes dart up to look at him, offering him a cheeky smile. But his eyes were focused on the boxes surrounding the both of you. "What did you buy?" 

"I don't remember. I was just sketching and waiting for inspiration to come. Every time l trashed a sketch I'm not happy with, I made another purchase." Rafayel began to wade through the maze he had created in his studio, nudging away boxes and old artwork alike. You try to follow him, but between wading, shimmying, and hopping over messes you found yourself slowing down.

"l didn't think great artists would also use online shopping to procrastinate...uh, relieve stress." You correct yourself as he turns to look at you over his shoulder. 

"You look like you're playing hopscotch with your jumping around."

"l don't want to step on your drawings or mess up your clutter. Better safe than sorry when it comes to artists..." You drift off as his eyes narrow.

"What clutter? I'd say you're the one who's messing me up. I'll clear a path for you so that you don't bump into anything." He continued to nudge things away with his foot, before getting impatient and finally picking things up. He moved smaller boxes and illustrations aside, stacking them on top of the bigger boxes to create a small path. At least you could properly see Reddie now as well. You weren't a fan of the tone he took, but given he had admitted to not sleeping recently you let it slide.

"What's wrong? Not feeling well?" You cock your head, approaching him as he paused to take a break.

"It's nothing, just a little dizzy." He pressed his fingers against his forehead, sliding into a proper seated position on the floor. You swiftly join him as he continued. "I waited for inspiration to hit over the past couple of days before you came. Then a sudden idea struck me just now. As a result, both my body and mind struggle to keep up. I feel shaken. It's probably because l'd been waiting for an idea for so long." He sighed wistfully. "I guess it's the price to pay for an epiphany..."

"Leave the pretty descriptions for the reporters." You kneel beside him, looking him over. He did look tired, with deep eyebags. He was a little paler than usual. "When was the last time you ate?"

He hummed in contemplation. "I vaguely remember eating at sunset the day before yesterday."

"What?!" You yelp, jumping up to retrieve your bag of snacks. It wasn't much, but in a food emergency it was better than nothing. "I'm surprised you haven't fainted! You're dizzy because you're starving!" You rummage through the bag, trying to find the perfect thing, but nothing in there was truly nutritious. He just needed something quick.

"I can't feel hunger now. I'm numb." Rafayel continued to act nonchalant, but you finally just shove the bag towards him so he could choose. Something, anything. You didn't need him passing out on you like he did on ebb day. At least you knew you could pick him up if need be. "Take whatever snacks you want from here. My treat." Rafayel peered into the bag, glancing over everything for only a moment before turning his nose up at the whole bag.

"Nothing strikes my fancy."

"I'll get some food delivered then." Fine. At least you can get him something more nutritious this way. You grab your phone but again he looked away, refusing.

"No, I don't want to open the door to strangers." He again turned his nose up at the idea. What has gotten into him today? He was clearly in a mood. No sleep, no food, and probably no water, knowing him. At least that confirms you shouldn't bring up the metacarpal now. You shelf the conversation, sitting down beside him. You tuck your phone away and pull out one of your bags, opening it.

"Ugh... Fine, then watch me eat." You toss one of the little snacks into your mouth. It was a little burst of nostalgia as soon as it hit your tongue, sending you back to your childhood for a brief moment. You could see your old home, getting back after school. Pulling one of these down off the counter for a snack before homework.

"What are you eating? It smells fishy." Rafayel's inquisitive voice brought you back to the present. You snap back to his studio, not your childhood home. 

"Dried shredded cod. Feeling hungry now, huh? Want some?" You offer the bag to him. 

"Not really, I only eat fresh seafood." And again, he turned his nose up. You huff.

"Why are you so picky? Don't knock it till you've tried it! You just need to eat something." He eyed it as if the cod in question had made a horrible insult about his mother. But he reached out. Cautiously, he brought it to his face. He eyed it. Sniffed it. Grimaced. Then ate it.

"Mmph-"

You cock your head, unable to interpret the sound he made or the expression on his face. "Is it good?"

Rafayel grimaced again. "Not at all, it's tasteless and hard. Reminds me of when I used to chew on paper." He stuck out his tongue in disgust. More for you, at least it was something.

"You could've eaten some real food instead of chewing on paper, you know. Hell, you could've called me, we could've grabbed dinner together. Gosh, you do some really strange things when left alone for long periods of time." Rafayel made a strangled sound of surprise at your sudden call out, but he didn't protest as you continued speaking. "l've always liked dried shredded cod. When I was young, a bag of that and a good comic book would keep me occupied for a whole afternoon. Although I later branched out to other tastier snacks, l'd always go back to them whenever I felt nostalgic." You put down the bag, again thinking of your childhood. You remember reading one of the Indiana Jones graphic novels while eating these. You had a love hate relationship with the fictional archaeologist, but he was rather nostalgic. You hear crunching and snap out of it again, finding Rafayel with the stolen snacks.

"Wait, I thought you didn't like them? Why are you eating mine?"

Rafayel shrugged, caught red handed. One hand in the bag and the other supporting it. "I don't know what you were like as a child but I can experience your silliness vicariously through these." He lifted the bag before shoving a handful in his mouth. If he truly hadn't eaten in so long you couldn't be surprised he was eating so much so fast.

"Slow down, no one's going to take them away from you." Rafayel grumbled some wordless complaint, clearly in need of a sip of water. You open your water bottle and hand it to him. "Here, have some water to wash it down." Rafayel grabbed the bottle with one hand and your arm with the other. Clinging to you like you alone can save him from choking to death on the dry fishy snacks. "You're grabbing me so tightly I can't move my hand. Here, hold it yourself." You offer it to him fully, and he releases your hand to hold it with both of his.l

"So thirsty!" He panted as he paused to catch his breath. Sounding like one of those kids drinking water after being outside too long. "Why did my senses come back all of a sudden?"

"Wow, you're really something, huh? You're the one who kept on painting without food or water or sleep... Someone ought to keep a closer eye on you." You lean your head against your knee, watching him as he continued to chug the rest of your water. You'll just wash it and refill it before you leave. "Install an automatic feeder by your side the next time you paint. That way, all you have to do is turn your head, and you won't faint from hunger." You add in a joking tone. You watched him, and for a moment he looked like he was struck with an idea. Lightbulb over his head and all.

"Good idea, or maybe I should just hang a large pastry from my neck, the type that rotates. That way, I won't even need to move my head." He looked like he was joking, but he began to look around the room. "Where's my phone? I'll order one. Although come to think of it, does anyone sell that?" You sit up a bit more as he began to rummage around. No. Is he serious? He can't be.

"You're really gonna buy one?!" You stand up alongside him, glancing around in search of his phone. You move a package to the side, only for him to point at it.

"Now that you mention it, I just remembered there's something inside that package for you." You look up at him in surprise, but he nodded for you to open it. You pull your pocket knife out, flipping it open and cutting the tape. You pull out the bubble wrap and find an odd contraption.

"An octopus with a wooden handle...?" You lift it up and out of the box, turning it over. "It's made of rubber? No wonder it's so light." You hold it up, showing off your new prize in the light. "I'll display this work of art at home and admire it." Rafayel stopped looking around and shook his head.

"No... it's for you to take with you when you go out." You cock your head at him, so he came over. He knelt down beside you, pointing at it. "Look at the strap on the handle. It's wide enough to pull down below your chin. Use it by putting it on your head..." He pulled on the strap to show you what he meant. "Stick the suction cup of the octopus onto the roof of the bus. With this amazing device, you can sleep anywhere standing up." You cock your head further. Unsure how to respond.

"But you'll have to be careful." Rafayel continued. "Don't hang yourself. Pull it down over your chin, not your neck." 

You are silent for a moment. Trying to process what he just said. A shocked laugh escapes you, and you quickly clasp your hand over your mouth. Rafayel turns beet red as he realized what he just said out loud. He quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck as he backpedaled hard.

"I was thinking you would be exhausted after coming back from digs. It would be nice if you could catch up on sleep anywhere. I know the museum isn't that bad but that job is ending soon so-" He caught you looking at him, so he cleared his throat, falling quiet. You pull your hand away, surprisingly endeared by the intention behind the odd gift.

"You want me to sleep? How about buying yourself one to remind you to sleep..." He perked up, interpreting what you said as an affirmation.

"What do you think? Isn't it handy?" 

"Maybe." You put the little octopus in your bag, safely tucking him away to bring home with you. "You're a genius, thinking of things we mere humans can't even imagine." You continue to tease him. "Thank you."

"It's definitely practical, but its aesthetics leave much to be desired." Rafayel picked up the box it came in, looking at the image on the box with another look of distaste. The obnoxiously bright colors clashed. "Hold on, I'll put some color on the tentacles so that it looks more presentable when you take it with you." He extended his hand, so you pulled the octopus right back out before handing it to him. "Of course, if you feel embarrassed, you can wait till the coast is clear before using it."

"Do you mean on the ride back? In that case, this is completely useless. It'll be busy no matter when I head back."

"Okay, then unbox something else. This one's definitely useful." Rafayel waded his way through uncleared boxes, placing the octopus near his paints so he could correct its color palette. While he moved he tapped on one of the boxes. You grab it, looking at it and then him.

"Also for me?" He hummed a yup, his back to you. You again open the box with your knife. "You didn't even have time to eat while painting and yet you remembered to buy stuff for me..." You pull the box open as he responded.

"When I'm hungry or cold, I think of you and I don't feel it anymore." Your head was hidden by the flaps of the box, allowing you to blush in private. You clear your throat, surprisingly flattered.

You laugh, trying to dismiss the compliment with a wave of your hand. "Nonsense. But I'm touched." You rummage through the box, finding an umbrella. You sit up again, pulling it out of the bubble wrap. "This see-through umbrella looks normal enough on one side, but the other side is so long it almost touches the ground. It's not a factory defect, is it?"

"Of course not. I bought it just the way it is." Raf huffed.

You roll your eyes, but look back at him for an explanation. "l don't have the genius necessary to understand this. Please explain how it works."

"I don't use an umbrella when it rains, but you can use it. It extends all the way down to the ground to keep your shoes from getting wet."

"But given the length of it, if I use this, I'll trip over the umbrella... Besides, all my work shoes are waterproof."

Rafayel shrugged, a hint of a smirk crossing his face. "If I can hold it for you, it won't be a problem. This is our umbrella." You could pick up a hint of flirtation in there, so you decide to just be gracious. Besides, you're wondering just how loopy he might be from lack of sleep. Best to just indulge him for the moment.

"Oh, how thoughtful of you. Thanks... Rafayel, I think you can pretty much, uh…" You try to find a more specific compliment, but you're coming up short at the moment.

Rafayel put a hand on his hip. "What, become an umbrella salesman? This isn't even the best item I bought this time. The coolest stuff is still in the box." He crossed the room, patting a larger box. "Come on!" You stand up and join him, knife at the ready. But he already had it open. You peer inside. You close the knife and put it away, surprised to find nothing inside.

"But the boxes are already empty..." Your eyes cut up to him. "I know, the coolest item is you! Rafayel, you wouldn't think of packing yourself in a box, right..." 

"Now, that's a suggestion." He stuck his hand out and ruffled your hair, making you whine as you swat at his hand. "Would you sign for the package if I packed myself in a box and mailed it to you?" You could just picture it. Opening the box only for him to pop out of the box, bubble wrap clinging to his shirt, paper sticking out of his hair, surprising you with that dumb boyish grin or smug smirk. He left the playful question hanging in the air as he pulled out the bubble wrap. His smile widened as he began to lay it out on the precious few spots of clear flooring. It took you a second, but you caught on.

"So you wanted to play with the... bubble wrap?" You watch as he lays it out carefully on the ground, arranging it just right for maximum satisfaction.

"I want to step on it, to be more precise." He clarified. "I specially requested more bubble wrap from the vendor." Since he was already barefoot, he began to walk all over the bubble wrap. The satisfying little pops reminded you of doing the same as a child. "It's fun! You try it!" He took a step back, offering it to you.

"It's okay, I'll watch..." He seemed like he needed this more than you, so you shake your head and remain where you were standing. But that was the wrong answer. Rafayel put his hands on his hips, pouting at your refusal.

"That won't do!" He came over, grabbing your arm and gently guiding you to the bubble wrap.

"Hey, hold on..." You try to protest, but he had already gotten you on the bubble wrap. You look at him, but his pout had shifted to a softer, pleading look. "Fine, fine, I'll give it a go..." You take one step. 

Pop, pop, pop.

He joins you on a separate piece.

Pop, pop, pop.

You take one step, he takes another. You step one way, he steps the other. In an odd way it felt like a dance. You stepped onto his piece, so he stepped onto yours. The popping became your orchestra, and Rafayel your dance partner. The bubble wrap was your dance floor, his crowded studio your ballroom. The stress of the job hunt began to melt away, as you danced and hopped back and forth. The more you relaxed, the happier Rafayel seemed. 

You take another step in your silly dance before pausing to yawn. The urge hit you out of nowhere, so you have only a second to turn and cover it. Rafayel cocked his head.

"For someone who was just scolding me on not sleeping or eating, you don't seem like you've been taking care of yourself, either." He reached out, his thumb caressing the edge of an eye bag with butterfly like tenderness. Just a fleeting sweep. "What's going on?"

You lift your own hand to rub your eyes, feeling a sudden wave of drowsiness. "Just... the job hunt's been hard." You mutter. "Nothing in my field right now, I'm not liking my chances... I've got some savings in case I don't find anything but I just... I'm tired." Rafayel frowned at your confession. His lips turned down, and his eyebrows furrowed. 

"Why didn't you tell me? Silly cutie... Y'know, I could help." He came over to your piece again, wrapping an arm around you. He guided you out of the chaotic part of the studio over to the couch. He sat down, pulling you with him. "You could always work for me."

"Aren't I already?" You lift the charm of your necklace up. The pearl caught in the light, drawing his eyes to it. His features soften further for a moment. He looks back up at your face as you continue, laughing dryly. "I know, just... I'm sure Dr. C mentioned it back on the island. Archaeologists, we have our pride. A lot of us, anyway. Myself included. I'm not opposed to help. I just..." You sigh. "I love my job. And I want to stay in the field. But consistency can be hard if you're not with a specific company. And I just haven't had any luck with being hired by one. And while I do want to honor our agreement..." The metacarpal. The conversation was on the tip of your tongue. But another yawn interrupted you. You shouldn't do this while tired, neither of you would be in the right headspace.

"I'm not offering to just make direct deposits into your account, or pay your rent." Rafayel caught your chin with his finger, gently guiding you to look at him. He cracked a boyish smile. "Though I'd be happy to. You mentioned earlier that someone ought to keep an eye on me... I've been thinking of hiring a bodyguard recently." He used his hand to bring your head down to rest on his shoulder. He adjusted, allowing you to curl up. While he had been the one skipping sleep, you were the one who found yourself growing drowsier by the minute. "I've seen your skills with a knife and a trowel. And when I passed out on ebb day, I woke up on the couch, so I assume you were the one who moved me."

You hum to confirm, yawning for a third time as you settled on him. "Yeah... I haul sandbags all the time... you're longer than one, but not heavy..." He chuckled, leaning in to speak against your ear. 

"Are you saying I'm like a sandbag you can throw around?" He clicked his tongue, but you just smile.

"No... you're nicer to hold." He chuckled again against your ear. You catch a tinge of pink on his face out of the corner of your eye.

"Hm? I am? Well. Maybe I should hire you to be my bodyguard. That way, if someone comes after me, you can carry me all you want. Throw me over your shoulder and carry me to safety." His voice seemed to grow further and further away. And yet, his presence remained constant. You hum something to acknowledge, but everything else just floated away. A soft, comfortable haze settled over you. Safety and comfort enveloped you like a blanket, lulling you to sleep.

The warm rays of a setting sun danced across your face, waking you from your sleep. The angle and position of Rafayel's windows gave him the perfect view of the sun setting into the ocean, but that meant waking up with the sun in your eyes. You roll over, trying to hide from the sun, only to feel something soft covering you. You crack your eyes open, finding that familiar fuzzy blue blanket draped over you. You slowly sit up, the memories of the past few hours trickling back into the forefront of your mind. As you rub the sleep from your eyes you scan the floor. Most of the boxes had been opened and broken down, now stacked neatly in a corner to be reused or recycled. 

You hear the soft scratching of paint bristle on canvas, and turn to face Rafayel. He was laser focused. Entirely in the zone. You shift, adjusting how you were sitting so you could just admire him for a moment. The pure concentration on his face as he painted something. Eyebrows furrowed, mouth held just right, each stroke decisive and controlled. A master at work. His face illuminated by the setting sun, making him glow gold. He looked downright heavenly, divine. Like an angel sent to watch over you.

But he was in the middle of working. You slowly, quietly, take the blanket off. Trying to leave quietly. But it didn't matter how quiet you were. It was as if he could feel the shift in the air when you tried to leave. He looked away from his canvas, giving you his full attention. "Where are you going?" He made no mention of your bed head. No teasing. Just a question. You sigh, caught, and instead fold the blanket.

"It's getting late. The sun is setting. I do need to finish up an application." You drape the blanket on the back of the couch, but Rafayel didn't appear eager to let you go.

"What's the hurry?" His eyes returned to the painting. He gathered a touch more color on his brush, removing the amount necessary before painting with the rest. "I'm almost done painting. Don't you want to see it?" You perk up, padding over to him to look over his shoulder. He adjusts his seating, raising his shoulder to block your line of sight. You see a flash of color but nothing more.

"Already? Of course I do!" You stand on your tiptoes, trying to look. But he moves again.

"I just finished a rough sketch. I haven't really begun yet, so it's not the prettiest." His ears turn pink. You shrug.

"It's okay, even if it were the finished product, I probably wouldn't be able to understand it completely." You admit casually. Your training was in archaeology, not art history or art appreciation. "In any case, it's mainly about the feeling, right? I just gotta trust my gut."

Rafayel turned to properly face you, his eyebrows lifting and lips curling up. "Wow, you could very well be my soulmate." He chuckled, finally turning the canvas around to face you. He was practically glowing with joy that you still remembered what he said in his art appreciation class. As he turned the image towards you, you could make out the sketch of a humanoid figure laying down on a couch. Their head seemingly propped on a pillow, a blue blanket dangling off of their waist and onto the floor. At least that was how you were interpreting the slew of messy lines near the figure. Your eyes dart to the couch you just got up from.

"Are my eyes playing tricks on me? This looks like a person, but it's horizontal..." You start slow, wondering if your assumption was right.

"You're right. It's a person sleeping." Rafayel confirmed. "See, even though this person is hidden under a mess of lines, you were able to clearly tell that they are the focus of the painting." He gestures to the central figure again. More scrawled lines matched the way your hair was sticking up. And the loose lines around the waist seemed to match the way your shirt was riding up when you woke up. You look back at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What's with your use of "this person" and "that person"? That's clearly me in your painting…" You lean in. You could even see the necklace around your neck. It was absolutely a painting of you. "Didn't you say you've never painted people? Why did you secretly paint me?" Your tone lacked any accusation, only interest and surprise. Rafayel shrugged, but the tips of his ears tinged an even deeper pink.

"It just felt right, so why not give it a shot?" A soft laugh fell from your lips at his half hearted excuse. You turn back, catching even more little details in the sketch. "Besides, when I see an image I want to capture on canvas, the inspiration naturally flows. You're just a piece of the whole. Don't feel that this is all about you." He looked away, the blush spreading from the tips of his ears to his cheeks. His denial only egged you on. You lean closer to him, cracking a smirk as he stuck his bottom lip out.

"But you didn't even tell me you were going to do this. I look horrible when I sleep! Look at how messy my hair is, I'm a wreck." His eyes snapped back to you, and the pout vanished.

"Don't judge yourself too harshly." He corrected you, gesturing to you. "There's no such thing as beauty and ugliness in art. But if you're not happy with this, I'll burn it." With anyone else you'd think it was a joke. But he seemed dead serious. Like the thought of painting you in a truly unflattering way offended him personally. "I'll just wait a couple of days and when inspiration strikes, I'll paint something else." You quickly drop the act.

"No way, that's me in the painting! If you're going to burn it, you might as well give it to me..."

"I thought you didn't like it." He cocked his head.

"Well... I'll have another look when you're done painting! Don't you dare destroy it!" You continue to backpedal. This was the first time he had ever drawn you. Painted you. Even though it was still in the sketch stages, it was still so beautiful and intimate. How could you dare ask him to destroy it? Rafayel looked back at his work, tilting his head to look at it from different angles.

"You might have to wait for a few more days. I have high professional standards and will never show off a half-finished art piece."

"l'm not impatient." You confirm. You lean in, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek before leaning back. He placed the painting down on his easel, lifting one of his paint clad hands to his cheek, like he was holding the kiss onto his skin a little longer. You fetch your bag and slip on your shoes, flashing him a wide smile over your shoulder. "Go on then, I'm leaving!" You call, hoping to get him to resume his work.

"Bye now! You know the way out!" He called back, giving his painting all his attention. You open the door, and just before you leave you hear him mutter one last thing. "Sheesh, you can't even sleep without tossing and turning. Painting you is hard work…" With an amused and endeared smile, you slip out into the cool evening air, shutting the door behind you.

You had started to see job applications in your dreams. Instead of showing up to school naked, you dreamt of showing up to an interview naked, or of a reference letter speaking poorly of you.

This job hunt was probably one of the worst you had done yet. 

Your eyes were glued to the screen, awaiting the email that would declare your fate. Would you get into the next round, or would you be rejected again? The museum director was baffled, and Dr. C was scratching her head. It wasn't like you weren't qualified. It wasn't like you weren't respected in the field. Just who was your competition? You had two weeks left of the grant at the museum. Time was running out, and fast. You finally manage to pull your eyes from the screen, instead glancing down at your phone. As you've sat, staring at your computer screen on this Saturday afternoon, you were staring at your other screen in your lap. You and Rafayel had been texting back and forth while you waited.

Rafy <3: u can do it, cutie!!!!!

Rafy <3: Any place would be lucky to have u

You: Idk, I'm starting to sweat here

You: Why isn't anyone respondingggggg

You had attached an animated emoji of the little artsy birb crying and kicking his legs. Rafayel followed with the same bird holding a big heart.

Rafy <3: don't cry!!!! it's gunna be ok

Rafy <3: i was serious btw

Rafy <3: u should just work for me

Rafy <3: my cutie as my bodyguard, saving me from the baddies with a trusty trowel

You: That's not how this would work, Rafayel

You: Besides, I want to work in my field

Rafy <3: i know, i know

Rafy <3: don't write me off, lemme help

Rafy <3: come with me to my next gallery!!! it'll be a test run.

That was his last message to you, early this morning. You couldn't help yourself, you were grinning from ear to ear. His offer was likely genuine, and you knew that. He wanted to help. He was plenty rich enough to support you, but you didn't want to give up the life of adventure. Even if said adventure had its downsides, like maggot eggs in an improperly stored toothbrush, tick checks, pressure headaches underwater, and equipment throwing tantrums. 

At least the tick thing wasn't as much of an issue when diving. 

Ding!

You finally got the email. Another underwater excavation, this time in another country. It was a shot in the dark, but you were qualified. Your heart pounded as you opened the email, crossing your fingers. Only to find those words you despise.

We regret to inform you.

"FUCK!" You groan, throwing your head back. You'd read the rest of the email in a second, you just needed to pout and grumble for a minute. Maybe Rafayel was rubbing off on you in that way. You rub your face, groaning angrily as your phone began to vibrate in your lap. That familiar soothing song accompanied it. 

"If every man says all he can If every man is true Do I believe the sky above Is Caribbean blue?"

If every man is true. Yeah, right. You still needed to talk to Rafayel about the whole metacarpal thing. Finding the right time was harder than you thought it would be. You didn't want to talk to him about something this big while he was in a bad mood, and you didn't want to talk to him while you were so anxious, either. You knew it would be better to get it over with. You knew it. But tact was the name of the game. The rejection was putting you in a sour mood, but you figured talking to him about it tomorrow would be best. You immediately accept the call, still fighting a scowl as the comforting voice of your boyfriend filtered through.

"Hey, cutie. Whatcha doing?" He was casual, just asking you what you were up to. You could hear cars in the background, and foot traffic. He was out and about. Good for him.

"Fighting off a headache after this latest rejection. I swear, if I see one more 'we regret to inform you' I'm actually going to make them regret it." You grumble, rubbing your face with your free hand. Rafayel clicked his tongue on the other side of the line.

"Sorry to hear that. They don't know what they're missing out on. You're one of the best out there."

"You're only saying that cause I'm one of the two archaeologists you know."

"Plus you're my cutie, but the point still stands." He teasingly agreed with you. "But hey, that means you really should consider my offer. Come with me to my next exhibition as my bodyguard. I'll pay you for your work. Just wear a suit, roll up your sleeves, and scowl. That should scare enough people off alone."

"Ha ha." You shake your head, already picturing yourself beside him looking like that. "I might take you up on that, though. I'm running out of time."

"Oh, speaking of time." Rafayel changed the subject. "You got a minute? I know you don't have to rush off to work."

"Yeah, I do have time. What's up?"

"I'm at the hospital."

You sit up straight, nearly throwing your phone with how fast you moved. "What?! Why didn't you open with that?! Akso? Why, what happened?" You grab your shoes and shove them on, not even bothering to grab anything other than your keys. 

"Woah, slow down, I'm okay." Rafayel chuckled. He must be thoroughly amused by your distress. "I'm fine, seriously. My eyes were acting weird recently, and then I ended up losing my vision. I'm at Akso, yeah, saw a doctor. Just waiting in the garden for someone to pick me up."

"Okay, give me a few minutes, okay?" You flew down the stairs, skipping steps so you could get there faster. "Stay on the line with me until I get there?"

"Nahh." You could practically hear his smirk. "I'd like to enjoy some quiet before you keep fussing over me. I'll see you in a few." Before you could even respond he hung up. If he wasn't so pretty he'd be pretty annoying. Lucky for you the hospital was within walking distance. 

It was a beautiful day. Sunny and warm, but a crisp breeze cooled the streets down. Children laughing, people talking. The kind of day for ice cream and games. The kind of day to take a leisurely walk. Not an emergency run to the hospital. While not outright sprinting, you were beginning to lean into more of a jog. Blind. Rafayel is blind. Is this a new thing? He was surprisingly calm about it. Has this happened before? A hundred questions flooded your mind, drowning any worry about jobs.

You slowed as you approached the hospital. You transition to a fast walk, scanning the entryways of the hospital, before finding the side garden where Rafayel was waiting. He was sitting on a bench under a shady tree, staring off into the distance with a contented smile on his face. At least he didn't appear to be uncomfortable. As your footsteps reverberated on the cobblestone path, he turned to face your direction. You lean down, gently waving a hand over his eyes. His hand shot out, catching your wrist while he cracked a cheeky smile.

"I'm just temporarily blind, you know? I'm not deaf and my other senses are working." He teased you. But you had a one track mind at the moment.

"What did the doctor say?" You lean down, trying to get a good look at his eyes. While unfocused, nothing seemed obvious to you. No clear wound or gash to explain the sudden blindness. Rafayel shrugged.

"Said it's not too bad. Two days of rest should do it."

"Really?" You cock your head, leaning back. He released your wrist. He couldn't see it, but you crossed your arms over your chest. Scrutinizing him. "You aren't hiding anything from me, are you?"

"What do I have to hide?" He cocked his head. "That I'm terminally ill and plan to die alone, and my last wish is to see you one more time?" You shuddered at the morbid thought.

"Ugh, don't jinx it."

Rafayel stands up and extends his arm, showing me a bag swinging from his finger. You reach out and take it, before peering inside.

"My doctor wrote down how and when to take these medications on my prescription. Told me to have my family member read it for me." You peek back up, raising an eyebrow. You remember he can't see your nonverbal confusion and clear your throat. 

"Family member? Nevermind. I'll read it once we get back." You decide against asking him to explain his reasoning, and instead slide the bag onto your arm. Rafayel holds out his hand expectantly, looking in your general direction. "Huh?"

"I can't see. Aren't you going to hold my hand and guide me?" He smiled again, holding his hand out a bit more insistently. You can't stop a sigh. But you can't stop your hand from finding his, either. He linked his fingers with yours. His calloused hands a match with yours. Callouses from trowels and shovels, callouses from paintbrushes and the handle of a dagger. You give his hand a squeeze.

"How did you get here? Call a cab?" You begin to guide him out of the garden area, but it appeared he didn't really need your help. As you walked he fell in stride beside you, perfectly capable on his own. His footfalls were experienced. 

Rafayel shrugged a single shoulder, pressing his lips into a thin line for a split second. "I just called a cab and told the driver to drive me here. After getting out of the cab, I caught hold of a kind passerby, told him I couldn't see, and had him take me to the ophthalmology department."

"Why didn't you call me for help?"

Rafayel tilts his head slightly, a slightly baffled look on his face. He seemed genuinely confused as to why he would ask for your help. "Maybe... I just didn't want you to freak out and annoy the doctors with your screaming." While it was clearly said in jest, it was just as clear he was dodging the question.

"Rafayelllll..." You drawl his name in a warning tone, trying to nudge him to tell you the truth. It only made him chuckle. Not this time. He threw his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side while you walked. 

"Take me home. I'm tired." You roll your eyes at his demand, but oblige.

"Oh but of course, your highness." You could give as good as you get. He sassed you, you sassed right back. It prompted another chuckle from the man by your side.

"Your highness. Kinda like that. But maybe something more regal would be fitting, like your quintessence, or something." You scoff a laugh right back.

"In your dreams, fish boy. Maybe I should just start calling you princess. You act like one." Rafayel gasped in fake indignation, putting his free hand to his chest. 

"You wound me! My beloved, cruelly insulting me while I am blind!"

"Bet you're glad it's your eyes and not your tongue, huh?"

"Nah. I could complain in sign language if I needed to."

There's a break in your teasing. You sneak a glance at him, and find him biting his lower lip. Suppressing a giggle. Just seeing him like that made you crack first. But he wasn't far behind. The rest of the walk to his home was full of giggles and teasing. A welcome reprieve from the tenseness you'd been dealing with for this entire job search. It was a much longer walk to Rafayel's home and studio than a bus ride, but on such a pleasant day it was doable. Especially with good company and laughter.

As you arrive at Rafayel's home, he let you both in. In the safety and privacy of his studio you finally manage to ask the real question on your mind. You both take your shoes off, Rafayel returning to his preferred barefoot nature. He walked further into his home, dodging and moving around various tables and items scattered on the floor with ease. He was so used to his own organized chaos he could navigate it blind. "Hey," you follow him, calling for his attention. "How did you suddenly become blind? Has this happened before?" Rafayel shrugged, making his way to Reddie's tank. You follow, bending over to admire the red flammula. 

"Pulled one too many late-nighters. It's pretty normal." He spoke dismissively, sprinkling some food into the water. Reddie darted up, immediately gathering the food, flicking between flakes.

"Normal? How long did you stay up?"

"Two days."

You drop your jaw. While it was normal for him, you couldn't believe he was still doing this after what happened last time. You sigh, closing your mouth. "And what did you work so hard on?" You rub your temples, only to pause as Rafayel grabbed a cup off a nearby table. He paused, sniffed it, then picked up the other cup.

"Over there." Rafayel raises his cup in the direction of a canvas on the other side of the bar table. You glance at the cup he put down and noticed it was full of paint water. Glad he sniffed it first... But you follow where he originally pointed. Finding a canvas with chaotic colors. It was a confused painting, the colors and swoops instilling a sense of fear and chaos in you. It was beautiful. 

"I know you want to work while the inspiration is hot, but you really shouldn't ignore sleep." You turn back to face him. He was sipping on his water, but paused when you addressed him. He shrugged, making a face that implied disagreement. You glance down at the table and find a stack of medical papers. Raf must've been looking at his own eye health records when his eyes started acting up. You flip a page as he began to speak. 

"Nah, quite the opposite. I haven't found any inspiration for this piece. It's been two days and I've made no real progress." He frowned. "No wonder why I haven't been able to get the color I want. My eyes weren't working right." Rafayel touches his eyes, his fingers ghosting over his eyelashes, then the skin of his eyelids. You move closer to him, reaching a hand out. He paused, his eyes widening as he felt your presence, but then he relaxed again. He took your hand, gently guiding it to his eyes. He allowed you to do the same, tracing the ridges along his face, his eyelids, his eyebrows. "My eye doctor said it's likely going to happen again, and worst-case scenario I could lose my sight forever." With your free hand you snatch your phone out of your pocket, hurriedly typing this information into a search bar. There were multiple typos as you typed with one hand, but you were more worried about looking at the likelihood of him going blind permanently.

"Are you searching my symptoms online?" You nearly drop your phone as Rafayel calls you out. You look up, finding him tilting his head in that characteristic way. "I heard you flipping through my medical records." He added. You turn a deep red, suddenly realizing you may have crossed a boundary. You open your mouth to apologize, but instead he pulls you closer, putting his chin on your shoulder. "Well, what does it say?" You look back down at the results. But everything is sensationalized. Instead of the summary and abstract of medical papers, you were finding worst case scenarios. You shake your head.

"You should get plenty of rest, take your medication on time, and follow the doctor's orders. Then everything should be fine in two weeks, give or take." Rafayel raises an eyebrow, dissatisfied with your ambiguity. He lets go of you, turning to walk away. He extends his hand to you passively while walking in the direction of the kitchen. You try to follow but he trips on the rug, staggering before regaining his balance. You scamper after him, but he seem overall unbothered. He uses his hand to feel around before finally reaching the refrigerator.

"I'll treat you to steak. How about it?" He flashed a smile, reaching in and feeling around for the container. You watch as he pulls it out. You felt a little relieved he had an appetite.

"Wow, someone is being generous. Let me guess. You want me to cook it for you." You cross your arms, leaning on the wall as you watch him. He set the steak out, his smile widening into a cheeky look.

"Well, isn't that part of your responsibility as my bodyguard?"

"Raf, we haven't confirmed that yet." You sigh.

"Well. What you're doing now kinda counts as bodyguard work. You picked me up and escorted me home, and now you're overseeing my meal." He shrugged, his smile firmly in place.

"Rafayel, seriously." You approach him again. You kept a firm tone, showing you weren't in the mood for jokes. "I really appreciate the offer, and I do want to do a test run, but I want to work in my field." Rafayel put down the food, turning to face you. His eyes didn't lock on your face, but you watched them anyway. His eyebrows furrowed, and a shadow was cast over his eyes.

"I know. I know, you want to work in your field, I know you have your pride. But for whatever reason, things aren't going your way right now. I was serious about my offer, you know. I don't want you to lose your apartment or anything." He clarified his offer. "Listen. It'll just be part time, when you're in town. If you don't want me to just give you money for these things then let me hire you instead. Plus, you can put it on your resume. Only two people know of our relationship. My aunt and Dr. C. It's not like any future employers are gonna grill you on working for your boyfriend." 

You opened your mouth, wanting to deny him again, but he had a point. You shake your head. No, you shouldn't. But you were really having some bad luck right now... It'll be something to hold you over between jobs.

"We'll keep things flexible, and it won't impact our relationship. Right?"

"Right." He smiled again, his eyebrows shooting up and the shadow vanishing. "Good. Good! This'll be our celebration dinner, then. I have a nice red wine here. Let's celebrate. To a new job."

You had ended up doing a majority of the cooking due to his condition, but he prepped seasonings, got down plates, and prepared the wine. He wanted to help clean up but you dismissed him to go ahead and get ready for bed. He ought to go straight to sleep after staying up for two days straight. As you finish washing the last of the dishes, you start to contemplate whether I should stay the night to make sure he's all right. It wouldn't be the first time, you'd done the same back on ebb day. You set down the wine glass you just dried before padding off to his bedroom. You poke your head in, opening your mouth to ask if he'd like that, as you notice how he is lying down.

Rafayel is lying on his bed haphazardly, already fast asleep. An open tube of eye ointment is left on the nightstand. He's lying on his side, in the fetal position. The tips of his wavy hair cover his eyelashes. In his hands is an open picture book, his fingers still on the page. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he seems to be slightly uncomfortable.

Your eyebrows furrow in a silent, sympathetic grimace. You tiptoe to his side, silently and carefully pulling up the blanket to tuck him in. "Oh, Rafayel..." You murmur, tenderly pushing some hair off of his forehead. The momentary touch soothes him. His face relaxes, his lips parting just slightly as he falls into a deeper, more peaceful sleep. Just being by his side seemed to put him at ease.  You'll stay until he wakes up, then discuss what this will mean moving forward. It wouldn't be the first time. You go and sit on the lounge chair by the window. There was a book left on the floor, so you pick it up and skim it. The ocean was a soothing presence, pushing and pulling against the shore as you read the book. It wasn't anything of interest, really. You put it in your lap, lips pressed together. You weren't exactly tired yet. Your eyes slowly scanned over the room, taking in the various things in the chaos. Art supplies, clothes thrown on the floor, books all over the place. 

Interestingly, you found the box of the necklace he had given you on his bedside table. You had forgotten about it. The paper that fell out of the box when you opened it suddenly came back to your mind. In all the chaos you had never seen what it said. You stand up, creeping over. The piece of paper was tucked inside, so you pulled it out. As you open it you find his neat handwriting scrawling out two phrases. One in the Lemurian alphabet, and one in your alphabet. 

"Bul-bulshee..." You murmur, eyebrows furrowed as you try to read it. 

Wait. It hit you. Your eyebrows shoot up. It was what he said to you in Lemurian in Verona! Now that you had a proper spelling, you scurried back to your seat. You pull out your phone and find the digitized version of the Lemurian language book. You knew it wasn't the most accurate thing in the world. But it was better than nothing. You flip and scan through the pages. Before landing on the term. The author of the book went on to explain. 

"It is a phrase used so common it became its own word. Reminiscent of the Spanish "Soy tuyo," it meant something similar. Instead of saying I am yours, the Lemurian phrase meant "You are mine." While this may seem possessive or a proclamation of ownership, it is more likely a phrase of belonging and devotion. You are mine, meaning you are a part of me, I love you, you belong by my side."

The meaning made you smile. You'd need to confirm with Rafayel, but it made your heart flutter. A sign of great affection. Belonging, devotion. You lift your free hand, thumb caressing the charm of the necklace as you continue to analyze the phrase. You take a screenshot and save it on your phone. 

Just after you do so, a text appears on your screen. Jason from the Verona excavation. You tap on it, switching to your messages to look at what he had to say. You scan over his message silently before freezing. A job.

You sit up straighter, rereading the message from top to bottom to make sure you weren't misunderstanding. Jason had been invited by the company than sponsored the excavation to a conference to present the research. And the company was paying for everything, including his time. He had originally invited one of the others to the conference, but she had to drop out due to a familial emergency. The company was willing to pay one of his other colleagues to come and take her place, to help run the panel.

It wouldn't be much pay, but it would cover transportation, lodging, food, and your time. Plus, it would be a great opportunity to network and see if you could get a job from the conference. Other attendees may be looking for workers. Or maybe you could write another article for someone. The possibilities were endless. You reread the dates and add it to your phone, grinning as you text him back to accept. It wouldn't be until a couple months out, but it was better than nothing! You could do a trial run with Rafayel in the meantime.

You lean back in your seat again. Relief flooding you. It wasn't permanent, but it was something lined up. Progress was progress, no matter how small. You turn off your phone and take a deep breath. The waves just outside seemed to grow louder, and as you rested your head on the back of the chair the excitement from the text drained into pure relief. The tension you had been holding for so long began to ease, and combined with the ocean and Rafayel's steady breathing, you found yourself slowly drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

As you wake, the sun in your eyes alerts you to the time. It must be early morning. The bright light illuminates Rafayel's room, bathing everything in an ethereal glow. If it weren't so messy it would be especially pretty. You blink, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you take it all in. Your eyes fall on the empty bed. You slowly stand up, stretching out your sore muscles. This is the third time you've slept at his place, all three times accidental. You really need to start making these sleepovers official. You pad out to his studio, trying to be quiet. His back was to you, sitting at his easel as he worked on the painting he had pointed at the day before. He paused his brushstroke as he heard you enter, before turning to face your direction.

"Oh, did I accidentally wake you up? I can't help it. Inspiration usually hits me at night." He shrugs sheepishly, offering a half apologetic smile. you look outside at the shining sun. He must think it's still night time. You were grateful he got a long overdue night of sleep. You approach, watching him. Even without his sight he seemed to be working along just fine. He's adapted to this. It makes you wonder how often this may have happened to him. You follow his fingers as he trails them along the canvas, using them to gauge where to put the paint. Once he was satisfied of where he was he but down his brush, applying those practiced strokes with ease. 

"Painting at this hour is a very "you" thing to do." You lean against the wall to watch him. It was always a treat to watch him work, honestly. The focus. The passion. The drive. In your time of knowing him you had gotten pretty good at identifying when he was passionate about a painting. A painting made for a deadline and a painting made out of passion were leagues apart. The untrained eye would call them both masterpieces, but you knew better. Rafayel gestures to the palette he put on the floor, bringing your attention back to the present. 

"Since you're awake, come lend me a hand." You stand upright and approach him, kneeling down to pick up the palette. "I can't see, so I need someone to mix the colors for me. First, I'm looking for a dark cobalt blue, the kind that resembles the color of my marble floor. Blend cerulean blue into black, and if it looks too dark, add a bit of zinc white." You look around, finding the tubes of paint. While some were store bought, others were stored in containers he had labeled. They must be the ones he makes himself.

"I'll try." You shrug, gathering the colors he specified. You sit on the floor beside him, measuring out the globs of paint before mixing them together. You glanced at the floor as a reference, trying to get as close as possible. It took some back and forth. A little too much white the first time, then too much black. But you balanced it and got it as close as you could. You added it to his palette, and he gave you the next one.

"Next, I'm looking for deep emerald green.Think of a lake shimmering under sunlight. Mix a generous amount of ultramarine, some sap green, and a dab of Indian yellow..."

"Wait a minute." You instruct, standing up to hunt the containers of the paint down. "What do you mean by "a generous amount"? How much paint am I supposed to add? Can't you be more precise? Give me measurements." 

"I can't. There's no such thing as precision in art." He shrugged. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself you're helping him.

"So what if I mess up and ruin your painting?" Archaeology required precision. Calculations. There was some room for error, sure, but you cannot go back if something goes wrong. A nonrenewable resource needed to be treated with case and precision. He interrupts your thoughts, reaching out for you. Feeling around in the air before tapping your forehead, cheeks, and lips.

"Just like you, colors have emotions too." His eyes glistened as he explained. "When you're happy, your eyes have a warm glow. When you're being stubborn, you clench your fists so hard they turn red. l can't see those colors now, but I can feel them with my heart..." His hand trailed up, tapping the ridge of your brow. Then down your arm, tapping your hand. He stands up in the warm sunlight, a gentle smile on his face. His finger carefully traces the shape of my eyes in the air. "For example, I think now you must have..." He touched his palette, before moving fast. "Your face covered in paint!"

You gasp, ducking away. "Rafayel!" You protest, but fight back. You gather some of the blue you had just mixed, trying to smear it on his face. but he had anticipated your return assault.

"I won't give you the chance." With his long arms he blocked your attack to dab even more paint on you. You don't hold back, gathering multiple colors to smear on his face, neck, and hands. He managed to get you in return, streaking paint into your hair, on your face, and shoulders. You couldn't help but laugh at the onslaught, trying to swat his hands away, but he only manages to outmaneuver you with surprising speed and agility. If this was an actual fight he would've gotten you in seconds. 

But it was a paint fight, not a real fight.

You manage to catch his hands in yours, grinning up at him between fits of laughter. "Do you yield?" Rafayel laughs back, breaking free and dabbing more paint on your nose before catching your own wrist. 

"Do YOU yield?" He fired back, grinning cheekily as he tried to smear more paint on your face. You can only get out muffled protests as he keeps getting more and more on your face. He finally stops, looking in the direction of the window before turning back to you. He frowns. "Guess it's not really midnight now, is it? You wouldn't be talking this loudly if it were." You smile sheepishly, shrugging. He couldn't see your reaction, but he seemed to know what it was. He exhaled, letting go of you. In spite of the mess on both of you he trailed his hands down your back. Finding your lower back, he gently pulled you closer. "If I lose my sight one day, I'll be counting on you to see the world for me.  So it doesn't matter if you can't get the exact color. I choose to trust your eyes." 

The sudden proclamation made your eyes widen. You look over his shoulder in surprise, hands hovering over him. Not hugging him back just yet. He's choosing to trust you. 

Yeah, right.

Memories of the metacarpal flood your mind. You open your mouth, ready to start the conversation. He claims to trust you, but he certainly didn't then. But you falter. He's blind, and he was just incredibly vulnerable with you. Now is not the time. The early morning sun covers him like a veil, draping him in both beauty and mystery. There was still so much you didn't know, didn't understand. You finally hug him back, holding him tight. He hugs you just as tight. As you feel the necklace pressing between you two, a brief moment of peace washes over you. Tomorrow. The next time you see him, once he's healed. Or at least on his way. 

Rafayel finally pulls back, gently holding your arms. He cocks his head and cracks a smile. "Hey, there's still work to be done. Let's get going." Rafayel lets go of you, returning to his canvas. He picks up his paintbrush and points to a shade of purple he had pre mixed. "Next, a rich shade of purple. The color of wild pansies."

"I better receive payment for this, or be credited as an assistant." You joke, gathering the colors required to mix the specific, rich shade of purple he required. He chuckled.

"Oh, so it's official? You're gonna let me pay you?"

"Might as well. Good news, though, I got invited to host a panel at a conference in Verona. I have some time before then, so we can trial run, and see how we like the arrangement." He turns towards the sound of your voice, his smile widening.

"Yeah, that is good news! See, I told you, cutie, everything is gonna work out. Now come on, chop chop, I'll pay you for all your help once this painting is done." He picked up his palette, extending it to you. "So chop, chop. Let's finish this."

A few weeks later, this painting is put on display. The art gallery is crowded, and Thomas is on loud nine as he flits about. You adjust the sleeves on your nice dress shirt, rolling them up as you stand in front of the painting. The colors are vibrant and beautiful, but evoke that same sense of loss and chaos. Your eyes trail to the name.

"Abyss? It's a colorful painting. Why did you name it that?" You look at him from the corners of your eyes. Rafayel keeps his gaze on the painting. His lips curl up, but there's no humor in his eyes. His eyesight has returned, but the doctors warned him to keep an eye on his sleeping habits. Who knew when his next lack of eyesight might become permanent?

"Perhaps it's because darkness was all that I could see while painting it. Perhaps once you see the darkness, you can never unsee it." The tone in his voice harbored a deep pain. You turn your head. In all of the chaos of the room, your attention zeroes in on Rafayel. Everyone and everything else fades away. 

He wasn't talking about the painting. 

He wasn't talking about the blindness.

There was something deeper here.

"l don't believe that." You murmur. You lift your hand, gently hovering it over his cheek. He looks down at your fingers. He leans into them immediately, so you gently stroke his cheek as he does so. "Once you've seen color, it will forever be etched in your memory." Rafayel lifts his hand and slowly moves his finger from one side of your face to the other, keeping it inches away from your eyes. There's a moment when his finger blocks your sight, and when our eyes meet once again, he smiles at you.

"Well, let's head out there and see the world together." He slipped his fingers into yours, interlocking your hands. With his free hand he lifted the pearl charm from your collarbone to his lips. 

"Thomas is gonna kill us." You whisper, already heading towards the doors. He smiles a little wider.

"I only have you for a few more weeks before you're out of town again. Let's enjoy our time and see the colors of the world. Together."

Your formal shoes clack along the cobblestone paths, a piece of the symphony conducted around you. The salty breeze, the scent of baked goods and espresso hung in the air. Jason kept talking as you two walked together, muttering details to himself as he prepared. You two were lucky to be put up in a hotel near the conference venue. It was in the old quarters, the older, quieter part of the sprawling city. Contrary to the bright lights and whirring automation of Linkon, old Verona had a charm of its own. Rich with history. 

And filled with people one person off from you.

You could feel it in the air. Lingering stares. People watching you from the corners of their eyes. Not Ever agents, no. Likely people who knew Rafayel. The stares were heavy. But not hostile. Wary, more like it. You shake the feeling off, instead focusing back in. Jason was still droning on. You could do this panel in your sleep by this point. 

"Jason, we're gonna be fine. The panel is first thing in the morning, we've been practicing every day since we got here." You chide him, nudging his rib with your elbow. He snaps out of it. But he doesn't really focus on what you have to say.

"I know, I know." He dismisses you with a raspberry. "I just want to make this work, y'know? It's hard to find companies that'll sponsor excavations like these right now. The better this goes, the more likely they are to reinvest."

"I get it, I do. I was in the middle of a job hunt when you texted me." You shrug. "I've got something on the side, but I want to stay in the field."

"Hey, something is better than nothing. And you know I'd always be down to be a reference." Jason nudged you back. "We look out for our own."

A shop owner briefly made eye contact with you. She held your gaze, for only a second, before vanishing into her store. Her eyes were a rich, vibrant pink.

"Yeah." You murmur, your eyes trailing after her. "We look out for our own." Jason looks at you from the sides of his eyes. He caught your tone, but didn't press. Your phone began to vibrate in your pocket so you reach for it, holding up a finger. "Oh, hold on." It was on silent for the conference. So it was the profile picture of Rafayel making a face at Reddie that revealed the caller. You immediately smile, answering the call and holding the phone to your ear. "Hey, baby."

"Hey to you too, cutie. How's my little professional doing?" His tone was light and playful, clearly revealing his good mood.

"Doing okay. Jason and I are heading back to the hotel now."

"Sweet. So, when are you leaving tomorrow?"

"Huh?" You furrowed your eyebrows, confusion in your tone and on your face. "No, the panel is tomorrow. I texted you about it, there was a slip up so they made us switch our panel times with someone else. I won't be leaving until the day after."

"Wait." His voice sharpened. "When did that happen?"

"At the start of the conference. I texted you, remember?" You raise an eyebrow. There was shuffling on his end, the sound of him touching his phone as he navigated to your text chain. Rafayel immediately huffed. He must've just found it.

"Damn it." He grumbled. "So... you won't be my plus one to the event?" Your heart sinks as you suddenly remember what he meant by that. You were supposed to leave early in the morning to make it home in time for an event. You sigh.

"Yeah, I'm sorry." You apologize. "Neither of us knew this would happen. Tell Thomas I'm sorry, too."

"Yeah, yeah." And just like that, Rafayel's good mood was in shambles. You could hear it. Practically feel it over the phone.

"Hey, let me make it up to you?" You offer with a sheepish smile. "Let me take you out when I get home. Picnic date? My treat."

"I dunno. Need to look at my schedule." You grimace. Oh he is NOT happy. "I'll get back to you on that. Hope the panel goes well, text me when you're on your way home."

"I will." You confirm. The words, those three words, hover over the tip of your tongue. But those words felt empty right now. He wouldn't accept them, anyway. "Take care of yourself." You opt for four words with a similar meaning, instead. Rafayel hums in response before hanging up. You look at his profile picture again in your phone. A heavy, deep frown etched on your face. 

"Hey," Jason nudged you again, shocking you out of it. His eyes wide with concern. "That didn't sound good. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just... I was supposed to do something with my partner tomorrow but because of the panel I'll have to miss it." You tuck your phone away. "He's really unhappy about it."

"It's not your fault, the organizers kinda just shoved that change on us." Jason shrugged. "He knows that, right?"

"Yeah, he does, he's just frustrated. So am I."

"I get it, relationships are tricky. He's allowed to be frustrated and disappointed, but he shouldn't make you feel like it's your fault." Jason held up his hand, showing off a wedding band. "My wife and I have had our fair share of fights about that exact thing. Five years into our marriage and we're still figuring things out."

You bite your lip. The topic of fights brought the topic of the metacarpal back to mind. You looked between his wedding band and your own necklace. The one you still wore proudly over your business formal top. You lick your lips. "Hey, Jason? Could... could you give me some relationship advice?"

"Sure. Hit me." He kept walking alongside you, taking a leisurely pace along the road. You take a deep breath. Trying to decide what to include and what to leave out.

"So." You start slow. "There's this... thing, my boyfriend did a while back. It wasn't a bad thing. But it was something that could've gotten me in a lot of trouble. He had good intentions, and it worked out in the end, but it was a really big deal. He did it behind my back, too, and I had to catch him doing it." You explain slowly, remaining vague. Mentioning thievery would require a police report, and you don't know Jason well enough to trust him to keep his mouth shut otherwise. "I'm frustrated. And the worst thing is he did the right thing the wrong way, at least to me. It's complicated." You run your fingers through your hair, looking off in the distance towards the ocean. 

"I need to talk to him about it, and I know I should sooner rather than later, but every time I make time to approach him something happens to him. For example, he was at a funeral the first time. And I mean, yeah, sure, I'd be such a great partner by confronting him during a FUNERAL. So I decided to wait. Then, he hadn't slept for two or three days and we hadn't touched base in a while anyway. And the next time he was just getting out of the hospital. He's okay, but those aren't the best times to have a heavy conversation." You rub your hands down your face. Jason beside you is slowly nodding his head.

"Okay, I'm lacking details, but I see your issue." He agreed. "I think we're on the same page. Yes, this needs to be a sooner rather than later conversation, but tact is the name of the game. You aren't responsible for his reaction, but time and place are important, sure. Funeral? Yeah, good call. Exhaustion? Hospital visit? Definitely agreed." He hummed, looking away to think for a moment. "I know everyone hates the 'we need to talk' thing. It just makes everyone more anxious in the long run. But I think this is a situation that calls for it. How long has this been going on?"

"The inciting incident was the day we got back from the excavation."

Jason blinked. "Wow. Damn, yeah, this is overdue. And he's been dealing with all of that? Phew, yeah, I see your issue." He hummed again, rubbing his chin. "I think you need to tell him that you're not angry with him, and that you need to talk about it. Assure him it took you this long to mention it because of everything going on. If he's decently smart he'll see your logic, even if he doesn't agree. Talk to him asap. Like, the day after you get home from the panel."

"Ughhhh." You groan, rubbing your face. "He's busy, sometimes he's hard to pin down."

"Again, I think this might call for a 'we need to talk' moment. Make him build time for this conversation. In his defense, he can't build time for it if he doesn't realize it's a necessary conversation to begin with." Jason said. "Listen, it's not easy, but it definitely sounds like you really care for the guy." You lift your hand, your thumb caressing the charm. Jason's eyes followed the movement. "He gave that to you, didn't he?"

"Yeah." You smile. "Made it himself, too."

"He's quite crafty then, isn't he?" Jason smiled. "What a labor of love. Listen. If he really likes you, while he might be frustrated of defensive, he'll hear you out. Just be upfront, and stop waiting for the perfect time. Let him know something is up so you two can make time." You slowly nod your head. He was right, it was a very fair point. It's time to stop waiting for the perfect time.

Your hotel was just up ahead. But as you look a little further, towards the cliff off the beach, you suddenly recall the gloriosa lilies Rafayel got for you that same night. It was a sweet gesture. Men don't get flowers enough. It wouldn't be enough to make up for missing the event, but you figured a heartfelt gift to show you were thinking of him would be a lovely gesture in return. "You go on ahead, I'm gonna swing by the beach for a minute." 

"Hey, before you do," Jason stopped you before you could head off. He fishes his wallet out of his pocket, before pulling a ticket out. "My wife actually decided to come up here and join me after the conference. We got a different hotel room for a little vacation. She surprised me yesterday. So I have a ticket home, first thing after our panel." He extended it to you. "I figured it would probably be too tight a turnaround. But maybe you could make it work. Think this might be enough to get you home in time for that event?" You accept the ticket with wide eyes. You look at the departure and arrival times, but it just wasn't enough. But, it would get you home shortly before the event ended. Enough time to go straight to his place. 

You look up, mouth hanging open. "Jason, are you sure?"

"We look after our own." He ruffled your hair, a teasing grin on his face. "We're few and far between. Go and settle this with your boyfriend, it'll take a load off your shoulders. I'll see you tomorrow morning, bright and early! Don't stay up too late." He went off towards the hotel, saluting you with two fingers in farewell. You look down at the ticket once more, eyes glistening. You'll need to pack ASAP, so you can go straight from the conference to the port. Security will be a bitch. But it'll be worth it. Your phone was burning a hole in your pocket. Jason really had a point, you ought to alert Rafayel asap that you two needed to talk. But those were the dreaded words. You decide to leave your return a surprise, hoping to pleasantly surprise him after the event. He might be exhausted so you can just offer to come over for breakfast, then have a heart to heart over good food. Plus, you can present him with some flowers he likely hasn't seen in a while. 

With a determined smile, you head off towards the cliffs. It's time to put this to bed. The cobblestone path gave way to sand, amd the wind whipped your hair and clothes as you approached the flowers on the sandy beach. They were unique, unlike anything you had ever seen. They were beautiful. And with how they popped up in the sparse patches of grass, it was clear they would occasionally be underwater. Kissed by the ocean. 

This would be your first gift for Rafayel since getting into a relationship with him. The anxiety and nerves of the impending conversation mixed with the excitement of this surprise. Admittedly, you couldn't surprise him with anything fancy. But a bouquet of flowers would be nice either way. You begin to gather the flowers, careful as you pick which ones. You didn't want to take too many, or impact the biodiversity in any way. Leave no trace means just that, leave no trace. But these flowers were plentiful, and unlike other things in town, there was no signage telling you you couldn't do this.

You gather a few, just enough to tie together with some twine. Maybe pick up some other flowers to make a proper bouquet with when you get back. You admire the handful you've gathered as footsteps approach behind you. You turn, unsurprised since it's a public beach, before looking surprised. A man stood before you. Maybe in his mid thirties. Tall, clean shaven, put together. His appearance was unlike that of townsfolk from the old quarter. No, he was from the more modern area in Verona. He cleared his throat, offering you his hand.

"I'm sorry, I hope I didn't scare you. I'm Louis, I reached out to you by email a while back, I don't know if you ever received it. You're one of Dr. Capek's students, aren't you?"

"An old student of hers, yes." You warily accept his hand, politely shaking it before dropping it. "No, you didn't scare me. But you really shouldn't sneak up on people."

"I'm a private investigator, being sneaky is in the job description." He gestured to the sand beside you. "Mind if I sit down?" You hesitantly nod. He slowly sat down, the leather of his shoes creaking underneath him. "I'm assuming you didn't receive my email. I'll give you the high points. I saw you last time you were here, but didn't want to interrupt you. I've been reaching out to members of the archaeological community about the missing archaeologists. I know Verona and Linkon are a ways apart, but we've felt the shockwaves of the news, too. I worked on the sea monster murders a few years back. Something is off about this whole thing. I have a hunch whoever ran off those archaeologists, or killed them, is the same person who killed those scientists."

"A hunch isn't good enough." You prop up your knee on the sand, dismissive. "Listen. I'm a scientist, you're an investigator. We are two people who should know best that a hunch is not evidence. It can be an idea. It can be potential. But it is not evidence." You shake your head. "Besides, what would make you think that, anyway? The sea monster murders were very public. The archaeologists aren't confirmed dead, they're missing persons."

"For now." Louis leaned in. "Listen. Let's look at the facts. Scientists involved with Lemuria were hunted down. Half killed in broad daylight. Half vanished. All of them were academics who were well respected in their fields. Half worked for EVER, the other half for a college. Besides. Raymond, that other man murdered recently, my sources show he also used to work for EVER. And he was murdered, broad daylight, and had scales carved into his skin."

You cross your arms over your chest. "And? Shouldn't you be taking your hunches to the police? Why me?"

"You're not the first person I've spoken to." Louis sighed. "I know, it's a long shot. But the sea monster murderer was never caught. I had a hunch for a while he skipped town after his last kill. At the operahouse. I know it sounds crazy, but I truly believe he was killed by a siren's song."

Your blood ran cold. You remain impassive, pretending you're in front of some committee you'd rather punch than listen to. Keeping a cool head and a flat look. "That's impossible."

"Okay, okay." He held his hands up with a sigh. "Listen, just... be careful. I read one of your articles, I know you have an interest in Lemuria. But every time someone like you gets too close, they're killed, or vanish." He finally stands up, brushing sand off of his pants. "I'd hate for it to happen to you or someone you love. Be careful." He grabbed a card out of his pocket, offering it to you as he stood. You eye it, but reluctantly accept. "Here's my contact info. Let me know if you change your mind, or find something you think might help both of us. I think Mo had a hand in both of our situations." He nodded to you. "Of course, he has a new identity now, but I doubt you'd have a brush in with him. Best of luck, archaeologist."

"Why does everyone call me that? I've got a name..." You hum, but he was already walking off. Mo. Wasn't that Lemurian for homeland? And a siren's song killing a scientist too involved with Lemuria... You tuck his card into your pocket. You stand back up, flowers in hand. You'd need a proper talk with Rafayel. This necklace you wear is the symbol of Rafayel's affection, and your mutual agreement. You both had your own reasons to love Lemuria, and because of that you both are invested in protecting it. You inhale slowly, looking back at the flowers. They would make a lovely gift. You'd be able to tie them together and present them to him as a gift for a job well done at the gallery. 

Something wasn't sitting right with you. It settled on your upper back, like a physical weight. You inhale slowly, then exhale even slower.

All the more reason to talk to Rafayel as soon as possible.

The panel ran long. So did security. Your transportation was late- twice. They nearly lost your luggage. Thing after thing after thing. You were too close to crashing the fuck out. You could feel the quirk in your eyebrow, the twitch in your eye. The flowers, that you had lovingly set in some water last night, were on their last legs.

"Oh well." You mutter, looking them over. "I guess they could be used for pigments. The petals are still vibrant..." You pull your half broken suitcase behind you, approaching Rafayel's home. Since this was supposed to be a surprise you didn't alert him to your arrival. You push open the gate, mentally wishing you had more time to swing by your place to freshen up. You were a mess from the trip home, dirty and slightly sweaty. Ah well. You'd say hi, peck his cheek, and offer to have breakfast together. As you swing open the gate, you overhear talking and laughter coming from behind Rafayel's home. You pause for a moment. Surprised.

You slowly continue, knocking on the door as you let yourself in. You take off your muddy shoes to not track dirt into the house, leaving your suitcase outside, with the flowers resting on top. His living room turned studio was empty, but the doors to the back of his estate were open. String lights lit up the back area, illuminating multiple well dressed socialites talking and laughing. You could make out a mountain of presents, wine glasses. Thomas stood facing the doorway, so he caught your eye first. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but a smile bloomed on his face. He came inside, calling your name in a friendly way.

"I didn't know you'd be back tonight! Rafayel said you weren't going to make it because your conference panel got moved around."

"My colleague had a ticket home, it was a tight squeeze, but it was late so I made it." You explain, your voice growing softer with each word. A few other socialites turned to look at you as you spoke. You swallow, feeling incredibly underdressed and messy in your travel clothes. Covered in sweat and soot. You look around, finally spotting Rafayel in the middle of a conversation with someone. He was smiling and nodding, seemingly enjoying himself. You look back at the mountain of presents, wrapped in wrapping paper that was already out of your tax bracket. You swallow. Thomas seems to notice, his expression shifting to mild concern. 

"You know, he has an event early tomorrow morning." He set down his own glass, approaching you. "These people have already overstayed their welcome, and he's had a few drinks too many. Wanna help me get rid of them?" He looked between Rafayel and you. You look around, trying to decide how to handle this. You were a mess, and obviously stuck out like a sore thumb. Rafayel already was a little frustrated with you, so he might not want to listen... You look over at all of the lights.

Light bulb.

"Stay here." You instruct, walking over to the side of his house. Jack of all trades, master of none. But better, still, than a master of one. Your field meant you ended up picking up skills in a lot of different things. You'd stayed in some lodging with shitty electrical wiring before, so you knew a thing or two about manipulating it. You find his fusebox and look up at the sky. Trying to figure out the best fib to cover it up. You'd come clean to Rafayel as soon as everyone else left. 

3... 2... 1... off.

You flip a switch, and his whole house powers down. You can hear the power shut down, from the lights to the a/c. You wait for a moment, quiet, before hearing drunken groans of frustration from the back. You can just hear Thomas over the groans and shouts of frustration, herding the people out. You sneak around to move your suitcase and the flowers out of the way, ensuring they aren't further trampled. As the drunk patrons slowly filter out you return to the back. Thomas had turned from the drunk guests to Rafayel, scolding him. You can't make everything out until you get closer.

"I told you to just casually attend, but no! You just had to invite some strangers to an after party." You don't wish to intrude on the scolding, but you needed to let Rafayel know you were here. This was nowhere close to what this was supposed to be like. You were envisioning a romantic meet up, a hug, offering him flowers before kissing his cheek and sending him off to bed. Not interrupting a party between wealthy elites and then seeing your boyfriend get scolded. "Not only did you make a mess, you don't even seem to be happy." Thomas's tone softened just a bit. You look up. He was right. The back garden was a mess. It would take a while to clean everything up. And Rafayel didn't seem to be in the place to do so, anyway. He looked miserable. Angry. Frustrated. And tipsy. Rafayel gave Thomas a single look, and it shut him up. Thomas sighed heavily. "All right, all right. I'll have someone come clean up the garden. Keep the gate unlocked for them." He instructed, before patting his shoulder. A silent 'I'm worried about you', no doubt.

"Cool. Don't let the door hit you on the way out." Rafayel snarked back. Your eyebrows shot up. While this was in line with the attitude he had when you two first met, it was still a far cry from the charismatic, goofy Rafayel you called your boyfriend. This was the angry Rafayel.

The last guest finally left, uttering something about meeting Rafayel in Paris next time he had a party. Rafayel leaned against the wall, and with the way the lighting fell on him, highlighting his solitude, he looked rather lonely. You look on in surprise. This was not at all the way this was supposed to go. He finally looks over, meeting your eye. You stand still.

"So. Now that the bad guy left, it's up to his accomplice to clean up the crime scene." Rafayel gave you a once over. You knew you looked a mess, but you felt even more scrutinized under his gaze. Was this really the same man who had held your hand while walking back from the hospital? The one who offered to put money into your account, the one who would kiss the sign of your covenant that lay between your collarbones? You swallow, looking away.

"You noticed." You respond. "So why are you letting them off the hook?"

"It was getting late. I was tired and had no idea how to politely kick them out." He shrugged, pushing himself off the wall. "Then you and Thomas showed up. And within ten minutes, you solved everything. I should thank you." There was no bite to his words. No underlying anger. He was actually grateful. And for some reason, that saddened you more than anger would have. You turn, taking one of the glasses off of the table. He seemed coherent. Maybe a bit buzzed, but more present than you originally thought. You reach for some alcohol, about to pour yourself a drink, when he took the glass from you. 

"Hey, you should get your own-" You're cut off as the glass falls out of his hand and onto the ground. You flinch, covering your face as glass shatters everywhere. You pull your arm away, checking yourself and him for any glass shards on your skin or clothes. Luckily, since you were both fully clothed, nothing seemed to nick you at the leg or foot. The alcohol, however, spurted up and towards both of you. Rafayel got the worst of it, the golden liquid splattering all over his chest. You look on in stupefied shock for a moment. Did it slip, or did Rafayel drop it?

"Why?" You look up at him. Once you were certain neither of you were injured you let the word tumble from your lips. "Why are you doing this? Why are you still doing things you don't like?" You lift a hand, gesturing to the mess all around the both of you. Rafayel could pass himself off as a socialite when he wanted to, but he was far from it. Aloof. Preferred his own company, or select few people. Not getting drunk around a bunch of obnoxious aficionados. It was one of the first things you learned about him, and yet here he is. He looked away, chuckling, low and deep in his throat. 

“Who knows? Maybe I was bored. When people are bored they tend to do dumb things." You look at him, just watching his face. You had moved your suitcase, so now he could see it. He averted his gaze to it, smirking. "Just got back, huh?"

"Yeah." You agreed. "Colleague had a ticket he didn't need. I wasn't going to make it to the event, so I figured I'd... surprise you." You lift your hands meekly. "Surprise?"

"Okay. But where's my gift, unexpected guest?" He cocked his head. He must not have noticed the flowers yet. You don't try to hide them, for fear of drawing attention to them anyway. Seeing the mound of gifts with wrapping paper worth more than your gift, you didn't feel very confident.

"Didn't have time." You lie instead. Besides, after the journey, the flowers you had so tenderly cared for were ruined. Broken stems, wilting, and just ragged looking. Your stomach churned at the thought. Your first gift for him, ruined. You swallow the lump, and he shrugs.

"Okay. If you say so." He walked inside, opening a drawer. He pulled out a toolbox and returned. He nods to the fusebox. You were the one who started it, so it was only right you fix it. You accept the toolbox as he fakes a shiver. "Brrr, I'm so cold because of this wine. I'm gonna go change. Make yourself at home." You nod as he goes inside.

Toolbox in hand, you return to the scene of the crime. You open the fusebox again and flip the switch.

Nothing.

You narrow your eyes, grabbing your phone as a flashlight. You start to fiddle around, but the more you dig the more your heart sinks. You try everything you know, albeit it isn't a lot. You waste thirty minutes digging around before finding a note. In the event of an outage, the company needed to be called to get everything back up and running. You groan, smacking your head on the fusebox. "Ow..." You flinch, realizing that was a bad idea. You shut it up and pack up the toolbox. It would have to wait until morning, it's far too late tonight. You take a deep breath, preparing to tell him. Shit, you wouldn't have used that ploy if you knew this would happen.

You're frustrated. Self conscious. A little angry. And just bone deep tired.

All you want is a shower and to go to bed, but you owe Rafayel an apology. You go inside. As your feet fall on the tile, you try to decide how to navigate this. The metacarpal. It's still heavy on your mind. This isn't the time or place, but it's been too long. You should have said something the very next day. But you didn't. It's hurting the both of you. The conversation has to start. You pad down the hall to his room, calling out.

"Hey, Raf? I found a note that you have to call your company. It's not coming back on anyway. Listen, I'm sorry, I wouldn't have done that if I had realized that would be the result." You peer around and find some vegetation.

"Oh, I forgot about that, too." His voice came from behind the vegetation. You approach, putting the toolbox down.

"Say, you got any candles? I can pull them out and light them for you." 

"Yup. See the sculpture? Right below Brutus to the left of Voltaire." You follow his instruction, thankful you paid attention in both Roman and Enlightenment history. You pull them out before locating his voice again. "I didn't see matches in there, do you keep them-?" You pull back the vegetation, expecting to find him crouched in front of his easel, but instead you find him butt ass naked in a bathtub. You turn scarlet from your chest up to your ears, quickly focusing your eyes on his face. He holds a paintbrush to his lips, squinting. Something was on his mind. It's no wonder he's a Lemurian. The being sirens and merfolk alike are based upon. His slightly damp hair clung to his forehead, beads of water rolled down his shoulders and upper arms. He was strong. The build of a swimmer. Or maybe something else. He didn't train, to your knowledge, but some of his muscles didn't quite fit the swimmer's build. Like they were honed for another reason altogether.

Rafayel felt your gaze on him. His eyes cut over to you. He extended a hand, tilting his head to one side, as if beckoning you to join him. "Come a little closer. If you wanna get a better look." You were caught.

Your mouth and throat went dry. Yet everything in you screamed to agree. Join him. Join him in the water.

You physically shake your head, as if it would chase away your loud thoughts. Louis' words rang loud and clear in your mind. If Rafayel truly could kill someone with a song, just as Rafayel himself had claimed on ebb day, could he also lure you into the water with him the same way? The horrific thought was again shaken away. Rafayel watches your newfound dismay with an impassive look, hand still outstretched. Waiting. Tempting. Luring.

"No, Rafayel, I-" You cut yourself off. "No. We can't. I can't."

"No one's forcing you, cutie." His tone softened for a second, though his eyes remained narrowed into slits. Watching you closely. 

You swallow. The red from one of his paintings, floating in the water, bled into it. Blood. Blood in the water. Blood in the water. Male siren luring you. Drowning. Skeleton. Bone. Metacarpal. He lied. You hadn't thought of that nightmare in a while. You take a deep breath. No, not a nightmare. Reality. 

"The bone." The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. You take a step closer, eyes still focused on his face and nowhere else. "The metacarpal. We need to talk."

"Oh?" He cocked his head, pulling his hand back. You don't wait for another response.

"Listen. I agree, you did the right thing. You put that person to rest, to peace, but please don't do that again. I feel like you're hiding so much from me, like- like I can't trust you. I mean." You just start rambling. Words pouring out like water from a faucet. 

"Cutie."

"I asked you about repatriation, and I get it, you don't want people to know. But we could've figured something out- or you could have talked to me. And I know you were following me. You showed up too often. I don't want to accuse you of stalking but things were too close together. And I don't like that it took me this long to talk to you but I didn't want to talk to you during the equivalent of a funeral, and I didn't want it to happen while we were tired, or-"

"Hey." Rafayel's voice took a more stern tone. You snap out of it, the words dying on your lips. His eyes were narrowed, his hand clenched. He had moved back in the tub. As if he was leaning away from you. "No. Not now." He added, his tone terse. Angry. "Yeah. We can talk. But not while I'm naked in the bathtub." In spite of your exhaustion and frustration, your common sense comes back to you. You flush again. Not from bashfulness. True embarrassment. Yeah, great job, you just cornered him while he was vulnerable. Trying to start a hard conversation while he was unable to leave. He kept his gaze locked on yours. He seemed wound taught, like he was ready to jump. Likely away from you. "Yeah. We can talk. But it needs to wait. I don't think we can like this."

You look away from him, rubbing the back of your neck in a mix of embarrassment and horror. "I'm sorry, yeah, I'll go." You clumsily step back, almost knocking a plant over. You hear him sigh again, a mix of frustration and something you couldn't identify. 

"No, stay right there. Wait for me." There was sloshing in the tub. You keep your gaze averted but you could hear him leave the water. You squeeze your eyes shut for good measure. Something soft and silk drags on the floor. You can only imagine the opulent robe now, something ripped straight from the wardrobe of Howl Pendragon, or some designer brand. If you didn't feel so rotten you'd find the moment intimate. "You can't see anything, yeah? Be careful." His fingers graze your knuckles. You turn your hand, offering it to him, and his fingers interlock with yours. He guides you away from his oddly placed bathtub and across the studio. You crack an eye open, thankful to find him in more than a robe. The tips of his hair was still wet, and it dripped on the floor, leaving a trail of diamonds illuminated by moonlight. You fully open your eyes as he retrieves two golden candlesticks. With a snap of his fingers, the two light with pink flames. The warm flicker contrasts with the cool light of the moon. 

You cock your head. "Aren't you planning on going to bed?" He shrugged.

"How am I supposed to sleep with you around?" There was no accusation in his words. But it felt like there was. You swallow, glancing away from him. You overstepped, you knew it. Had you really done so much damage for him to revert to how he was before you were together. He sets the candles on a cabinet, padding over to his workspace. He gathers his supplies and sits down at his easel. He gathered his paint on his brush, before beginning to work. He was silhouetted by the pale moonlight and the glowing candlelight. The warmth faced away from you, while the cool light of the moon faced you. Splitting him in half. As if he, too, was divided within himself on how to proceed. "Cadmium yellow." He pulls you from your thoughts with two words. You look at the floor. There was a tube of yellow paint at your feet. You kneel and turn it over. The label matched. You stand back up, offering the tube to him while he worked. 

"Lake blue." He extended his hand again. You grab the appropriately labeled blue and hand it to him.

"You're having fun bossing me around, aren't you?" You try to keep a lighthearted tone. But it doesn't work. He finally turns, shifting to face you. Staring you down in silence. 

"So. You decided to surprise me by coming home early, though you were already supposed to be here to begin with but had to ditch." He spoke plainly. "And you didn't just run over here because you thought my wacky day-night schedule would benefit you?" You remain silent. Was there an accusation in his tone. Of what, you weren't sure. You open your mouth, but close it. Feeling like a fish out of water. "Am I right?" He pushed again.

"No! No, I'm not, it's not that." You insist.

"Oh, so it's not because I'm in a bad mood." He scoffs, turning away from you and back to his painting. You frustration towards yourself turned outward. You watch him, mouth agape, as he went along as if you were never even there. You swallow and find your voice again.

"That's not fair." You call. He doesn't stop. You press your lips together and march over, putting your hands on your hips. "Rafayel." You call his name, but he again ignores you. You watch him from where you stood. "Is today something that just... happens in your life?" That caught his attention. He glanced at you, over his shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

"Navigating through a sea of colorful characters, dancing with gorgeous people, attending art forums, leaving only when it's midnight." You lift your hand, gesturing towards the back garden where a mess remained. The evidence of the night he had. "A world of glamour where fame, fortune, and pleasure reign supreme. Intoxication blurs the lines of morality... It's a dizzying, baffling thing." You card your fingers through your hair. Only then do you notice the smear of paint from one of the bottles. In the dim light you couldn't tell which color it was. Rafayel scoffed.

"You aren't using every cliche you know right now, are you?" He cocked his head, wearing that boyish grin you find so endearing. He's doing it again. Whatever patience you had left evaporated, gone with a huff.

"You say you hate stuff like this. That was one of the first things I felt like I learned about you, at your gallery. But now you seem to be enjoying yourself. You're a-" 

"Hypocrite?" Rafayel stands faster than you realized. The speed and force sent his stool tumbling, while he took your wrist, the one just shy of hovering over his shoulder. The sudden movement, while not threatening, left you gasping and stumbling back against the nearby wall. He's quick to follow, lifting his other hand in a blurred movement to protect your head from hitting the wall. His eyes widen, fingers spread, ensuring your head was safe. Only then did his hand relax. Your eyes are wide, staring him down in shock. But he moves closer. Your shadows, half illuminated in gold and half illuminated in silver, intertwined against the wall. 

“With each passing day, I’m becoming more human. I hang out with people I don’t like, wear the mask they want to see, say the things they want to hear”. He leaned closer still, slowly pressing his nose against yours. Like a sad puppy begging for the forgiveness of its owner. The gesture allowed your heart to slowly stop pounding in your chest. You lick your dry lips, waiting, hearing him out. But your position didn't escape you. His actions didn't escape you. “Hypocrite. Fake. Am I no different than those people who only seek fame and fortune? You know, I’ve been thinking about who I actually am and who I should be.” His voice was soft.

"Rafayel, you-" You start, but he cuts you off.

"You know, I've been thinking about who I actually am and who I should be." His eyes trail down your face, finding your lips. His voice so soft and tender it was dizzying. But there's no shame. No remorse. Whatever sympathy you felt evaporated in the fires of anger. You pull a hand back and shove against his chest. Just enough force to create a gap.

"Fuck no. Stop that." You speak firmly, biting back a snarl. His eyes widened. The shadow over his eyes vanished. "You just, rightfully, called me out for cornering me. And now you get to pin me to the wall? No. You didn't say that on purpose so I would pity you, did you?" You pull your hand back and step away from the wall, allowing his hand to slide away from your hair. He steps back as well, creating a gap between your bodies. Allowing you some space. "What do you want me to say? 'No, the Rafayel I know isn't like that at all'? Rafayel. You have been hiding things from me. You've been following me. You stole from my place of work, and continue to shut me out. You didn't want me to know about your lack of sleep, you didn't tell me about the hospital until you were done, and you didn't talk to me about the metacarpal." You put your hands on your hips. "You were right. I don't get to corner you. That was fucked up. You don't get to do it, either." He blinks, his eyes wide. You sigh, looking away while pinching the bridge of your nose. "I don't think either of us are in the place for this conversation. We're exhausted. Raf, I... I feel like I don't know you, when you hide things from me. I can't say 'the Rafayel I know isn't like that' when I can't feel like I know you."

There was a beat of silence. Only the distant ocean waves and the crackles of two small flames could be heard. 

"What if I had been this kind of person before I met you?" Rafayel finally spoke, offering the question. You don't respond. Would you be with him if he was some glutton for punishment, whirling with pleasure and ecstasy, drunk off praise and adoration? It didn't matter, admittedly.

Because you knew that, for certain, Rafayel was nothing like that. 

Your silence makes him chuckle. You look up, finding him running his fingers through his hair. He takes another step back. Fully giving you your personal space back. "It's kinda late, you're right. If you're not going home, the blankets are over there, the blue one is being washed. You can sleep on the couch, like usual." He turns to leave, without so much as a goodnight. You swallow. Not wanting to go to bed angry, you grab his sleeve as gently as you can. 

"'Before you met me'?" You tilt your head. "Are you saying you've changed since you met me?" You release the sleeve of his nice pajama shirt. "Rafayel... you're starting to become annoying." The word slips out, your lips loosened by exhaustion and frustration. But instead of anger, Rafayel cracked a smile.

“Everyone wants to be my friend, but you’re the first person to say I’m annoying.” He looked down at his shirt, lifting his arm up. “Also, I don’t have any more clothes for you to mess up." You find a blue stain. You look at your own hand. That blue paint he had asked for now obvious on your hand. You look up, recalling how much fun you both had in your paint fight. You crack a smile in return, taking a step closer to him.

“What if I want to mess it up?” His tired smile turned wary, holding both hands up. But there was a hint of playfulness in his eyes. You go low, and he blocks the attack, you go high, same. But it allowed you the opening to knock him onto an armchair. You position yourself just so, making sure he had an opening.

Not cornering him. Not trapping him. He could leave anytime he wanted. But he didn't.

He doesn't complain. In fact, he swipes some of the blue you accidentally got in your hair and taps it on your nose. You do the same. Unlike the crazy paint fight prior, you keep it a little calmer. Focusing on his face, where he could wipe it off with ease. He finally laughed, doing the same right back. He finally acquiesces with an exaggerated sigh, hands held high. Surrender. You sit up with a grin of victory. But it falters. It was a necessary break in the tension, but it didn't negate some kind of resolution, even if temporary, before bed.

“You’re trying to say we’re from different worlds." You observe. You reach over, finding a clean towel by his easel. You dip it in some clean water, beginning to wipe the paint from his face. He sits and allows it, even leaning into the touch like a cat nuzzling into pets. "I’m just someone who stumbled in by accident. So what? Those people may run to you, but they can’t walk inside your home or keep you by their side. You already met me. You can’t draw the line after already crossing it." You watch him carefully as you clean him up. His expression cannot be read, but his eyes remain locked with yours. "If you’re trying to resist this weird change, consider it all part of your destiny." With the last smear of paint gone, you try to get up. He catches you by holding your waist. Again, not tight. Not restricting. A request. Stay.

“Then what’s your reason?" He looked up, searching your face. He takes the damp rag from you, dipping it in the water, before cleaning you in turn. "How is it any different from theirs?”

You huff. "I’m nothing like them, obviously. Let me count the ways." You lean into his touch, eyes slowly shutting. "I'm not rich or famous. I don't really gain anything from being buddy buddy with you, you had to persuade me to let you hire me. I dig in the dirt. I'm just a messy scientist. Fame means little to me. I didn't force my way into your life. I didn't elbow people out of the way to get to you. We met in the library." You grab the necklace, pulling it out from under your shirt. As your eyes open, you find his locking onto it. "We have an agreement. We have the same goal. We care about each other and we have the same goal." You lock eyes with him. "We love Lemuria. I love Lemuria. And I-" The word catches in your throat. Love you. 

“Good.” He doesn't wait for you to finish the thought, or correct it. His arms closed in around you, pulling you to his chest. Your eyes open in surprise. “As I said, it’s perfect." You wait. Is there a caveat? A comeback, something sassy or snarky? No. It was only a hug. You shut your eyes, finally relaxing into him. As he feels you relax, his presses his lips to your hairline, where you had a patch of blue paint. 

“Do... you believe me?" You murmur. He sighs, letting go. It allows you to sit up. He allows you to sit in his lap, still leaning over him as he's awkwardly sat in the arm chair.

"Mm hm." He confirms. "I’ve just been thinking about... what exactly changed." He sat up a little, but moved a hand to the small of your back to keep you balanced as he did so. "What was I like before I met you? I wonder…Is there a difference between then and now? Do I really…? Feel like I’m no longer used to this kind of loneliness.” Silence fell again. Off in the distance you noticed another statuette of Plato. You shake your head, before looking back at him. He's looking down at the floor. “You really didn’t bring me anything, huh?”

You shrug, looking down to see what was so interesting on the tile. “I did, but you must’ve gotten a lot of gifts anyway, right?” Raf's head popped back up. He carefully guided you off of him, and you stand. He stands up as well, extending both of his hands expectantly.

“Their gifts are their gifts, and yours is yours. Where is it?” He cocks his head. Again, looking so endearingly boyish. Your frustration had simmered down, if only for the moment, so you reluctantly look over to where you had dragged your suitcase. You pad over reluctantly, picking up the wilted flowers. You come back over, not looking at him as you place the wilted bouquet into his hands. "The trip back was awful. It ruined the flowers. I remembered you said you hadn't seen these in a while, they weren't blooming when you were last there. So... I wanted to make a nicer bouquet. As a thanks for the one you got me." As you sheepishly explain, a petal falls from one of the flowers. You groan, burying your face in your hands. But just before your eyes shut Rafayel catches the petal. 

You look up at his face in surprise. His eyes glowed warmly in the warm candlelight. He turned the petal over, treating it like the most precious jewel. He looks up at you. He crosses the short distance between you, tilting your chin up with one finger. He shuts his eyes, pressing another kiss to the crown of your head.

“Out of all the presents today, this one is the best. It’s the best because you brought me flowers from a distant place." He whispered. "They'll perk up in some water." He pulled back. That silly smile had softened. "Come on, cutie. We're both exhausted. Let's make things right in the morning."  

"Cutie... chu, cutieeeeeee..." 

Rafayel's soft voice in your ear woke you before the sunlight did. Your eyes blearily blink open as he presses another kiss to your forehead. You blink again, smiling up at him. 

"Hey, cutie." He smiled back down at you. He stroked some hair out of your face. Your head was propped on his thigh. You slowly sit up, only to find him far too comfortable to do so. You plop your head right back down, shutting your eyes. "Silly cutie..." He chuckled warmly. He was already dressed for the day, in that white top with the embroidered grain on the collar. Black dress pants. Still shoeless since he was home. He stroked your hair. "Come on, I owe you an explanation, an apology, and breakfast." You crack your eyes open again, looking up at him. "Plus, you need a shower. Go freshen up, I'll order us breakfast?" 

"I don't have clothes here..." You yawn. And all the clothes in your suitcase would need to be washed. He ruffled your hair again.

"You can borrow a shirt of mine." He grabbed your hands, standing up. Your head slid off his lap and onto the couch as he playfully tugged on you. "Come onnnnn, up you get, let's go, come on." He teased. You yawn again, but stumble to your feet. With your hand in his, he guided you to his bathroom. He already had a shirt of his folded up. As well as a clean towel and some body products. "I don't know your usual shampoo and conditioner, so you can use mine. Breakfast will be here by the time you get out." 

You take your time in the shower, waking up and freshening up. Even though it was a really nice couch, it was still a couch, and it wasn't the nicest the sleep on. As you wake up and recall the events of the previous night you just shake your head. Rafayel seemed to be in a good mood. And he was the one who said he owed you an explanation. Good. You step out, drying off and dressing yourself in his clean shirt. It smelled good. 

It smelled like him.

You poke your head out, thankful to find him getting the food delivery right as you were done. You pad out to his kitchen where he was pulling out the food. He looks up, his expression brightening as he sees you in his shirt. He playfully whistled.

"Looking cute, bodyguard." He winked. You scoff, but the smile on your face gave away that you were flattered. He chuckled in kind, coming over. "So. Wanna do the big talk before we eat, or after?"

"Before. Let's get this out of the way." He wrapped an arm around your waist as you spoke, turning you around to go back to his studio. "And let me start. I'm sorry for cornering you last night, that was really fucked up, and while it wasn't my intent it was still what happened. I never want to scare you or make you feel cornered." Just the image of him pressing against the back of his tub, teeth bared, wound so tight he was ready to jump... it sent a shiver down your spine. He frowned.

"Hey, I'm sorry, too. You're right, I was a hypocrite. I don't get to tell you off and then do the exact same thing." He sighed. "Okay. That's out of the way. Now. The bone." He stopped you right in front of the massive painting he had been working on on and off for the entire time you'd known him. "Let me preface this; I don't regret what I did. I'm not apologizing for stealing. But," He rubbed the back of his neck. "I AM sorry for doing it behind my back. I'm sorry I wasn't honest with you. I could've really hurt you, and I'm glad I didn't. But I can't do stuff like that and expect you to be okay with it." You listen closely, nodding along to his apology. You could see where he was coming from, after all. 

"You did the right thing, the wrong way." You agreed. "You laid kin to rest, but I do wish you just talked to me. I know repatriation wasn't an option, but if you had just talked to me..."

"So you wouldn't have turned me in or moved the bone?" He cocked his head. He looked down. Finding the necklace once more. He touched it, lifting the pearl to his lips. "I... I know, we have an agreement. A covenant, you said." He refused to look at you. Eyes locked on the pearl he gave you. "But I don't know how far you'll go to make things right. How far you'll go to protect Lemuria." You let him speak, slowly nodding your head. Okay, that's fair.

And it's a question you need to ask yourself, too. How far are you willing to go? What would you do for Lemuria? What would you do for Rafayel?

"Well, if EVER is involved, I'm guessing I'm gonna have to go pretty far." You agree. You lift your hand, resting it on his. "How... how far has this gone, Rafayel?" Louis's words rang loud in your mind. Raymond's death. The archaeologists. The sea monster murders. Just how far have things gone? His eyes cut up to you. He was waiting. Judging. Trying to decide something. But with a slow, weary inhale he made his decision. He let go of the charm and turned. On the counter there were a few red coral stones. He picked it up, and it emitted a faint glow. A shudder ripped through your body.

"Oh my gods." You murmur. "Is... is that...?"

"Metaflux." He agreed. He takes your hand, putting the stone in it. In a flash of pink light he summoned his blade. He pricked his pointer finger, before squeezing a single drop of blood onto the stone. In a flash of light the stone burned your skin and a little blue fish appeared in the air. It swam around even as you gasped and winced. Before you could throw the stone Rafayel caught your wrist, holding it still. "Shh- shh, shh. It's just an illusion." He murmured. As soon as the illusion appeared, it vanished again. You touch the stone and your skin with your free hand. Not hot to the touch at all. Merely an illusion. He removed the stone from your hand, putting it away again. 

"That painting I sold Raymond. It was for him." He had his back turned to you. Leaning over the desk. "Do you remember the art piece I mentioned in his house...?" You sigh, walking to him. You wrap your arms around him and press your forehead against his back.

"I figured that one out all on my own." You smile wryly. "I'm so sorry, Rafayel... I'm so sorry." He slumped over the desk.

"I had to do it. I had to avenge her. I couldn't- I couldn't-"

"Shhhh." You murmur. "No. No, you don't owe me an explanation for that one."

"I do." He disagreed. "The stones... I used them to make that painting. It made him go insane. It was slow and painful."

"I know he worked for EVER." You murmur again. That made him tense. "I know... I know more than I should. I know EVER is up to something, more than just obstructing archaeology. And if they're after you and have been hurting your people, I can see why you'd be so protective. So... vengeful." He chuckled dryly.

"Bet you're gonna tell me that this is making me just as bad as them."

"Oh hell no." You quickly correct. He stiffens again, but this time in surprise. He turns back around, facing you with wide eyes.

"What?"

"No. Hell no. 'Revenge makes you just as bad as the perpetrator', fuck that." You scoff. "No. Do you know how many forefathers of archaeology I want to beat the absolute shit out of? How many founders of anthropology I'd love to curbstomp? Nope. While going insane might be a little much for some situations, from the little I know, it sounds like it was a long time coming." You cross your arms over your chest, watching him. His eyes remained wide.

"I... I didn't tell you because I didn't know how far you'd be willing to go." He murmured. But his eyes glistened. As if he was seeing you in a new light for the first time. "How far will you go? For Lemuria? For... for me?"

You hum. It was a good question. How far would you be willing to go? You weren't quite sure yet. So you shrug. "I don't know." You answer honestly. "I've got my morals, and there are some lines I won't cross. But... repatriating a metacarpal is in my moral code. Stealing it? Well. Let's look at the British Museum. Stealing back stolen artifacts is a perfect example of two wrongs making a right." 

"Then why were you so mad about it?"

"Cause you did it behind my back. I can excuse stealing, but being shady and gaslighty to your partner is off limits." He finally just laughed. A laugh of shock, surprise, and a little relief. He finally turned fully, kissing the top of your head again.

"Okay, okay, point taken. I'm sorry. I'll be more honest and upfront with you from now on." You lean up, embracing the affection. "Alright. I think that's all the serious stuff out of the way." He ruffled your hair, his arm wrapped around your back to hold you close. "You ready to eat something?"

"Yeah, I'm starving!" He began to guide you back towards the kitchen, tutting at you.

"What, did you not eat dinner?"

"Didn't eat lunch, either, lines were too long."

He gasped. "You could've had something to eat when you got to my place! You should've said something."

"Says Mr. 'forgets to eat and sleep until he goes blind'!" 

"Oh well it's different when it's you!"

As the two of you jokingly squabble, heading towards breakfast, a vase full of blue flowers began to perk up. And a little red flammula flit about lazily, content once more now that its parents had returned to each other.

[candie-corking]

"Dumb Fuck Author! Dumb Fuck Novel!" [SVSSS AU]

more svsss au, w some writing under the cut :3

not making a full series but planning to redraw scenes and write stuff and make comics for it hehe :>

Fallen Angel’s Glory was a fantasy web novel about the blackened protagonist, Pure Vanilla Cookie. After all the abuse, betrayal, and torment he suffered as a child, Pure Vanilla turned to the dark side and waged revenge on every single cookie who gave him hell. He then continued on to give the entirety of Earthbread hell using the power of the Soul Jam of the Abyss.

This web novel was well-known on the SilverTreeStories website and written by user SaintFaerie. 

Despite the dogshit writing it had (as per Blueberry-filing Cookie’s standards), it was still famous, spanning to over one thousand chapters with triple the amount of words.

As the web novel finally came to an abrupt close there were many, many opinions on it all… 

“He just gets killed?! Just like that?! Pure Vanilla?! The Lord Pure Vanilla Cookie?!” 

Blueberry-filling Cookie slammed his fists beside the sides of his keyboard, shaking the unkempt desk of merch that matched the description of the blond protagonist he was just reading about. He feels like he could spit out jam over the words he was reading on the monitor.

No finality! No loose ends tied up! He just gets fucking killed! By some lesser nobody NPC no less…! What kind of ending was this…?! 

He knew that name SaintFaerie was a shit writer but Blueberry-filling was at least counting on some kind of semblance of a good ending! 

Obviously his expectations were set much too high. 

Blueberry-filling Cookie has been an avid reader and commenter of Fallen Angel’s Glory, as an English major he just couldn’t understand the idea of such a shitty web novel just go on like this. For years he’s been writing very helpful criticisms and providing rightful opinions about how the author should handle the story. 

And yet he’s been purposely ignored the entire time! He saw that ‘creator liked this’ icon! 

His jam bubbles with rage beneath his dough as he opens up the comment section of the chapter and runs his fingers across the keyboard to type. 

The clack-clacks of the keys were the only thing resounding in the darkened room, illuminated only by the monitor's screen. He hasn’t typed this fast since he did an all-nighter for his final thesis, just showing his passion for this topic as the word count got longer and longer. 

It wasn’t until minutes later did he finish his comment-slash-essay, finalizing it with one single phrase. 

Dumb fuck author, dumb fuck novel…! 

. 

. 

.

[ Activation phrase registered ] 

. 

. 

. 

[ Welcome, USER002, to Fallen Angel’s Glory ]

Drawing loosely based off this official illustration in SVSSS:

[hellsburners]

best mistake

summary: you're new york's hero: spider-man. your roommate peter is the brains behind it all and the love of your life and he doesn't even know it. pairing: tasm!peter parker x male reader word count: 1.6k warnings: unprotected s3x, blowjobs, casual hooking up. a/n: i'm back? (based on this amazing prompt)

masterlist | more peter parker

Peter hears a loud thud from his window. It was dark outside, the clock on his desk reading past midnight, the city more quiet. 

He peers on the glass, a dark figure resting its head on the pane. He gently lifts the window, your body slumping on his arms, your face bruised and bloody. He carries you to the bed, your suit all tattered and dirtied. Peter runs to the bathroom to get a basin of warm water and a towel. 

He takes his time to wipe the blood from your face, gently wiping it on your soft skin, and brushing your hair away from your face. His eyes wander to your face, a familiar one, a face he’s seen ever since he was a kid, but now much older.

He takes the medical kit under his bed, gently moving you so he can remove your ruined suit. His calloused skater hands brush your chest with the damp cloth, scrubbing away the dried blood crusting your wounds. He applied a salve on some of the cuts to prevent infection, the bigger gashes he stitched. 

The two of you have been doing this for eight years now. You, the web-slinger, protector of the city, while Peter, the brains behind your crusade. He came up with the idea of making the web-shooters, his bio-engineer degree with your experience as a research scientist in aerophysics helped hand-in-hand in keeping the city safe. 

You turned in your sleep, groaning from the pain. “Hey, easy up tiger your wounds are still fresh,” he said, helping you prop yourself up on his bed. 

“How long have I passed out?” you said, noticing your suit was pulled down to your waist. 

“Just a couple of minutes,” he said. “Saw you on the TV.”

“Yeah, that Electro guy short-circuited my web-shooters,” 

“About that, I sketched up a new prototype that could be resistant to his attacks,” he said, gesturing at his messy table with his new creation. “I also made some tweaks on the web fluid, I increased the tensile strength so they can withstand greater velocities.” 

Peter’s eyes glimmered as he talked about the new shooters. Your mouth lifted into a smile as he continued to ramble. “What do you think?” he said, “Did you even listen?”

“Yeah—increased tensile strength blah blah,” you uttered. “How’s the job hunt by the way?”

“Terrible. I did sell some pictures to the bugle,” he said. “Jameson gave me $350.”

“$350? That’s not even enough for groceries and the electricity bill.”

“Well it’s better than nothing,” he said, taking his glasses off. “I saw Gwen earlier.”

Oh. Peter’s high school ex. You diverted your gaze away from his, finding the city lights outside the window was a distraction. You felt your chest tighten, your heartbeat much louder. 

For the fifteen years you’ve known Peter Parker, you’ve also fallen in love with him. The two of you have shared some casual encounters here and there but you knew it was never serious. So the idea of him meeting his greatest love made you uncomfortable. 

Peter noticed the way your attention left his, your eyes hooded as you stared far away. He noticed your hand clutch on the sheets, your jaw clenched. “She got engaged recently,” your muscles relaxing. Oh, you said. “Yeah, to some rich socialite from the Upper East Side.”

“Good for her,” you whispered. 

“Have you thought about something like that?”

“Marrying a rich man?” you chuckled. 

“No, just marrying,” he uttered, the corner of his lips lifting north. His fingers trace your skin, drawing circles. You let him. 

“Not at all. I guess I’m gonna be broke my whole life,” you try to get up, your back betraying you. You stagger for a bit, your hand finding Peter’s shoulder for stabilization. He stands as well, his large hands around your bare waist. 

Your breaths were close—too close. You could feel his heat, his warm musky scent, his brown eyes set on yours. He bends his spine so he can reach your face closer, his pink lips hovering off yours. 

You pull back, clearing your throat in the process. “I’m gonna go get a drink.” 

“Yeah, sure,” he coughs. 

You walk to the kitchen, holding onto your wounded torso. Peter’s eyes dropped to your underwear-clad ass, his cheeks blushed from the shame. Stop ogling your best friend Peter. 

You find the fridge bare of any beverage, you turn your head back to see Peter staring at your ass, his face absent of any expression. 

“Stop staring at my ass!” you shouted, throwing a kitchen cloth at him. “Plus, where’s all the beer.”

“I was not!” he shouted back. “And I think I drank all of it.”

You let out a sigh. You found a can of Coke on the bottom shelf of the fridge. You jumped to sit on the kitchen counter, your legs dangling off the linoleum countertop. The liquid sizzles as you chug it, the brown syrupy consistency dripping from the side of your mouth to your bare chest. 

Fuck it. Peter walks to the kitchen, joining you. “If you want to seduce me you could just say it.”

“Seduce you?” you laughed. “And why would I do that?”

Your legs wrap around his waist. He takes the can from your hand, drinking the rest of it before placing it on the counter. “Because you’re like that, always making sure I can see that ass around,” he whispers to your neck. 

Your head falls back from his kisses, your hands spread behind you for stability. He pulls your underwear off, your erection pointing north. He licks a strip underneath, you shudder from the sudden sensation. 

He wrapped his long fingers around it, stroking it with his saliva, the only thing you could let out was a moan. He lifted you up the counter so your legs were mounted on his shoulders. He takes his digits inside his mouth, lubing it before pressing it into your hole. 

“Fuck,” you moaned. 

“Feel good, huh?” he said. His fingers curl up inside you, teasing your sensitive spot. Your body winces from the sensation, your legs automatically closing on his head. He strokes your erection again, simultaneously stimulating your prostate. The combined sensation made your legs weak, and your arms almost collapsing. “To be honest, you’re the only one I do this to, Spidey.”

“Liar,” you let out a groan. “I know you kicked yourself over and over for not bagging Gwen.”

His grip on your cock tightened, his fingers went deeper. “Aw, are you jealous of her?”

“You lost your virginity to me asshole,” you whimper. “I get to ride that dick, not her.”

“Ride?” he chuckles. He pulls back, his hands wet with spit. “Go at it then. Ride me.”

 The two of you were in his bed now. Peter sitting on the bed as you sucked him off. His hand found your head, running it through your hair. “Fuck baby,” he moans.

Your head bobs on his tip, your tongue licking around his head as you take him in. Your free hand was stroking his length, it was long enough that it was actually difficult to take him all in your throat. 

“Fuck the blowjob, just ride me please,” he whimpers. 

“I was preparing it you dick,” you said. “I can’t fit all that without some lube.”

You straddle his legs, aligning his tip against your hole. Your hands find his broad shoulders for support. The two of you moan from the contact. You hole slowly taking his length in. Peter shuddered from the warmth enveloping his erection. He cursed, he could cum from this alone. 

 You looked beautiful, Peter thought. Your hips moving against his sex, your eyes lidded, and your mouth agape, the sweetest moans leaving your lips. It was a sight he could look at forever. He takes your faces to his lips pressing them together. You let out soft whimpers, Peter blushes from the sounds. 

“It’s too fucking big,” you groan. 

“You can take it, baby, please, do it for me,” Peter moans. 

He was a mess, you thought. All sweaty and red. He didn’t have the enhanced stamina you had. Your hands fall on his toned abdomen, your fingers finding the ridges underneath his shirt. You moved your hips up and down his length, your brows furrowing from the amount of pressure on your behind. 

Peter stroked your erection as you continued riding him. His mouth was agape as your eyes locked on each other. You pulled him to you, your arms around his head as you quickened your pace. Your hips gyrated on his cock with such swiftness Peter’s cock felt like it was being bombarded with so much stimuli he could combust into flames. 

“Shit, I’m close–” 

“Me too, Peter,” you moan. “Cum in me.”

“You sure?” he said. You nod against the whimpers. 

Peter rocks his hips against your ass, gripping onto the mounds of flesh. Your body draws out the pleasure from him as you move your hips. He could let out curses, pleading for release. From the same beat of your movement, the two of you let out your climax, your own release covering his torso as he filled you. 

You lay in bed catching your breath. “This was probably bad for your stitches,” he said, his brown hair drenched. 

“Yeah, I think I tore it again,” you breathed heavily. 

It was probably a mistake. For you to continue this charade with Peter. To exchange bodily pleasure knowing your heart beat only for him, but it was a mistake you were ready to commit over and over again.

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (7)

ー☆ Chapter 7: Figure It Out

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cussing ー☆ Word count: 5.7k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hey, lovelies! I'm back with another chapter, sorry for the longer wait, but I had to finish a veeery lengthy oneshot (you can check it out if you want, it's another Mingi one and it's part of my pirate series). I really liked this chapter, it isn't very charged with action, but I think we can finally see the progress in their relationship (or maybe it's just me haha). You know the jist, but please listen to this chapter's song Figure It Out before or while reading the chapter! Let me know your thoughts, and I hope you enjoy and have a nice rest of the week! <3

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @sharksandminhos

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

『Nothing here to see

Just a kid like me

Trying to cut some teeth

Trying to figure it out』

            Mingi’s studio wasn’t so big compared to how it appeared from the outside. But it felt cozy and rather homey with a few polaroid photos stamped up on the wall above a small dark green couch, which had a dozen of colored pillows, and a yellow blanket thrown haphazardly on it. I slipped the straps of my backpack off my shoulders and placed it by the couch, clearing my throat, feeling a bit awkward as I disregarded my jacket, and placed it next to Mingi’s on the sofa. There was a small window, but blinds were covering it, and the lights were rather dim as I turned to face Mingi. He was grinning, hands gripped together in front of himself, and I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, what do you think?” He asked as he gestured around, and I chuckled, letting my eyes roam around for a second time. His desk was long and seemed rather organized, a few notebooks opened and pens littered around it. His whole setup took up a lot of space, but you still had enough to be able to write comfortably. He had yellow little notes scattered all around his wall in front of his desk, and for some reason I found that adorable. Mingi tended to be forgetful, it wasn’t a surprise that he’d have to jot down his thoughts quickly while working on his songs.

“It’s cool,” I muttered with a shrug, pushing my hands in the pockets of my jeans, “I’ve never been inside a studio before.”

“Glad to be your first.” My eyes narrowed at Mingi’s words, and judging based on the cheeky smile on his face, he knew what he was doing. I huffed and rolled my eyes, feeling a little weird being cooped up in a small space, alone with Mingi. We’ve never really been on our own before, despite texting and talking at university as well, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit awkward still. It’s like the feeling never truly went away, but maybe it was just me as Mingi seemed rather relaxed and nonchalant. I cleared my throat when Mingi didn’t say anything else, suddenly a question pressing on my tongue.

“Uh, have you had lunch today?” I asked as I shuffled on my two feet, Mingi’s eyebrows furrowing in an almost adorable manner. And as if on cue, his stomach growled loudly, making me chuckle as I shook my head at him, “I’ll take that as a no, then.”

“Yeah, I didn’t get the chance.” He sighed, pouting, “I kinda overlooked the date of the deadline and now I really can’t afford wasting any more time.”

“Then why would you drive me home? Isn’t that wasting your time?” I asked as I went to retrieve my bag. I had bought some butter croissants this morning that I never got to eat as I had a smaller stomachache, to which the cure was a good, warm, soup. If I ate these croissants, it would’ve only upset my stomach more.

“It’s raining.” As if that was reasoning enough, but I stayed silent as I unzipped my backpack and dug into it, looking for the plastic bag, “And to be fair, I kind of need a break. I feel like I’m slowly losing my mind.”

“I thought you didn’t have a mind.” I teased with a pointed look, making Mingi roll his eyes as I finally found the plastic bag and grabbed it out of my backpack before I lowered it back onto the floor, “Here, eat these.”

Mingi’s eyes widened in surprise and he seemed reluctant for a second, “Just take it, I won’t eat them and I’d rather you eat it then I throw it away later.”

“Aw,” Mingi cooed as he took a few steps to come closer, batting his eyelashes at me in a cringe worthy manner, “Did you buy this specifically for me?”

“I bought them for myself, did you not hear what I said?” I deadpanned, and whiskey my hand away when Mingi went to grab the plastic bag. He quirked an eyebrow and I gave him a long stare, slightly glaring, “I wouldn’t waste my little money on you, you’re not special.”

“In that case, I don’t want it.” Mingi’s face slipped into a neutral mask, and I gulped, suddenly regretting my words. Perhaps I was being too harsh with him when he was always rather nice to me. I cleared my throat and grabbed his hand, ignoring the warmness of it, and pressed the plastic bag into his palm.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” I muttered and quickly released Mingi’s hand, looking off to the side as Mingi tried to fight off the smile on his face, looking rather pleased with himself.

“You’ve been making progress.” He grinned, as he opened the plastic bag and grabbed a butter croissant out of it. My eyebrows furrowed as I watched him take a big bite, smiling in bliss as he quickly chewed the food in his mouth, basically inhaling the pastry in mere seconds, making me rather amused.

“What are you talking about?”

“You recognize when you make a mistake, and you apologize for it.” Mingi said through a mouth full of croissant, and I grimaced at his antics. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and balled up the plastic bag, aiming for the trash can which was next to the door, just a few feet away from it. He made a show of throwing it, only for it to land on the floor merely two steps away from us. I snorted in amusement as Mingi cleared his throat, flashing me a small embarrassed smile, “Anyways, I want to show you something.”

“Won’t you pick it up?” I raised an eyebrow as Mingi ignored my question and grabbed my right wrist, dragging me towards his desk, “And don’t get too used to my apologies. I know you’re only pretending to be mad at me, so I’ll stop being apologetic.”

“I’m not pretending,” Mingi huffed, throwing a quick glance at me as we reached his desk, and he reached for a chair pushed off to the side, “You have a special way with your words and you always manage to hurt my feelings somehow.”

“You’re just too sensitive.” I quickly snapped, defensive for no reason. Or maybe not for no reason, but because I knew he was right. I couldn’t help myself. I might’ve started growing more accustomed to having Mingi in my life, in a very friendship sort of way, but I still couldn’t help but have my doubts about him. I could never know. He was Yunho’s best friend after all, and whoever associated themselves with that man, wasn’t the best kind. And I know judging Mingi based on who he’s friends with is rather wrong, but it only felt right as of now. We didn’t know each other too well yet.

“I’ve been told so before,” Mingi gently pushed me in the chair he had fetched for me, pulling his own chair behind himself to take his seat, “Yunho always says despite my tough exterior I have a rather soft heart, easily harmed. Hence why I cried a lot as a child—”

“You were a crybaby?” I asked with a chuckle, watching Mingi amused as he huffed, leaning back in his chair, looking as if he regretted admitting that.

“Of course you’d make fun of me for that,” He rolled his eyes before he leaned forward, pulling his chair closer to the desk, grabbing his mouse, “But yes, I still cry.”

“A lot?” I teased, biting my lower lip when Mingi gave me a pointed stare.

“Says the one who looked like a kicked puppy abandoned by the curb when I found you at the restaurant.” Mingi muttered under his breath as he turned his computer on, clicking through various folders rather quickly. I scoffed and crossed my arms in front of my chest, narrowing my eyes at him.

“You didn’t find me there, we just happened to be at the same place.” I corrected him, “Much to my dismay.”

“Yeah, right,” Mingi scoffed, pulling up a file of various recordings on his computer screen, “if I remember correctly, you were rather grateful that I drove you home that night.”

“You kept insisting.” I pressed, giving Mingi a look when he turned his head to look at me.

“You must always have the last word, don’t you?” He raised an eyebrow, not looking too impressed, “Even through texts.”

『Nothing better to do

When I'm stuck on you

And still I'm in here

Trying to figure it out』

I just shrugged and remained silent, not admitting to his correct observation. Mingi just shook his head with a quiet tsk and then went and unplugged his headphones from the computer. He licked his lips and grabbed his glasses off the desk, pressing them up on his long nose, ruffling his black fluffy hair. He seemed to be a bit nervous as he swiveled his chair around to face me, interlacing his fingers in front of himself as he rested his arms on the armrests of the chair.

“So, uh, this isn’t finished yet,” Mingi spoke up, chuckling almost awkwardly, “it’s just a sample, still raw and shit. I started working on the track this week, but I’ve been writing the lyrics for a few weeks now. Found some inspiration for it quite recently, actually.”

“Why’s that?” I found myself asking curiously, glancing at the screen of his computer before looking back at him.

“Well, just…reasons.” Mingi was evasive as he averted his eyes, but I didn’t press the matter as he clearly looked like he didn’t want to talk about it. So, I just hummed and nodded my head in understanding, waiting patiently for him to speak up again.

“Anyways,” He cleared his throat and clapped his hands, turning back to face his computer, “you’ll be the first one to hear it. And don’t laugh, like I said, it’s far from being perfect.”

“I would never laugh, Mingi.” I said seriously as my eyebrows furrowed, making Mingi glance back at me. He studied my face for a second before he nodded once, ruffling his bangs quickly as he pressed start on the player. The song started out as a steady beat accompanied by the guitar playing softly, the melody rather comforting. It was a delicate way of easing you into the song, and as it flew naturally, Mingi’s voice suddenly made an appearance, his rasp not as noticeable as normally as his vocals were soft, completely in tune with the music and the beat.

“My head is haunting me, and my heart feels like a ghost/I need to feel something 'cause I'm still so far from home/Cross your heart and hope to die/Promise me you'll never leave my side.” I gulped as I leaned back in the chair, eyes fixated on the big screen of Mingi’s computer, soaking in the words, trying to be less aware of Mingi sitting next to me, trying to ignore my unsteady heartbeat.

“Show me what I can't see when the spark in my eyes is gone/You got me on my knees, I'm your one-man cult.” Mingi’s leg was bouncing up and down rapidly, his lower lip between his teeth as his eyes were fixed onto the screen of his computer, something suddenly dropping in the pit of my stomach as I took a glance at him from the corner of my eyes, “Cross my heart and hope to die/Promise you I'll never leave your side.”

I gulped as my fingers wrung together, lightly bobbing my head to the steady rhythm of the song, enjoying the instrumental as I drunk in Mingi’s words, his deep voice warm and pleasant to listen to, feeling goosebumps erupt on my arms, underneath my long sleeves.

“'Cause I'm telling you, you're all I need/I promise you, you're all I see.” I took a peek in Mingi’s direction as was slightly startled to find him watching me, his eyes trained on me intently. His eyebrows were very lightly furrowed as his right hand was fisted, and he sniffed loudly, holding eye contact as the next words flew smoothly against the melody, my cheeks suddenly flushed for no reason, “'Cause I'm telling you, you're all I need/I'll never leave.”

The melody was light, instrumental smooth as Mingi’s voice almost faded with the next words, that is until the drums kicked up and the beat became heavier, Mingi’s strong voice easily accompanying the instruments, rasp harsh as Mingi’s voice audibly shook with emotions poured into the song, “So, you can drag me through hell/If it meant I could hold your hand/I will follow you, 'cause I'm under your spell/And you can throw me to the flames/I will follow you, I will follow you.”

And just as I blinked, the music stopped as Mingi hit the pause button, clearing his throat loudly as he rubbed at his chin, averting his eyes as I noticed a deep flush on his face. He swiveled his chair a little towards the desk, angling his body away from mine, “Uh, like I said, it’s still raw, so it’s not that good. I recorded the first two verses like yesterday, and was playing around with the chorus before I noticed you…yeah.”

I couldn’t help but smile softly as I looked at his profile, meanwhile Mingi quickly closed the folders he had open, “Mingi, it’s…like, really good. I have no idea what standards music majors and your professors have, but to my painter ears this is…a masterpiece or something.”

Mingi froze for a second, eyes wide when he faced me again, “Really? You think so?”

“Of course!” I exclaimed with a huff, growing embarrassed as Mingi continued to look at me with a surprised expression on his face. Perhaps I really should stop teasing and playfully insulting him so much, what if he doesn’t believe my compliments when I’m being genuine?

“I’m glad.” Mingi suddenly muttered, a soft smile settling on his lips before he chuckled, turning his head away, “I’ve have to finish the chorus and then we can go, is that good with you?”

“Sure,” I smiled, grabbing my phone from my pocket as Mingi went and plucked the headphones back into the computer, throwing it around his neck, “Take your time.”

『Getting hard to sleep

Blood is in my dreams

Love is killing me

Trying to figure it out』

He hummed and then put on the headphones, clicking away on his computer as the music file opened again, and I could hear the soft melody quietly slither through the headphones. I found myself looking at Mingi a second too long before I snapped out of it, clearing my throat as I unlocked my phone and looked down at it, checking for any unread messages. As expected, there was nothing from my mother as she preferred calling even for the smallest things. From Seulgi there was also nothing as she was on a date with Wooyoung, probably too preoccupied by each other to pay attention to anything else around them. I could only hope they would finally make things official, their feelings way too obvious to be beating around the bush for any longer. They were rather cute, but also extremely annoying. I’d rather prefer Seulgi gush to me about Wooyoung as her boyfriend, than the guy she just has a massive crush on, repeating the same things over and over again, completely ignoring the advice I give her.

As there was nobody else I would be texting, other than Mingi, I clicked out of the app and absentmindedly opened Instagram, scrolling through my feed, sighing quietly. There was a light tapping sound coming from Mingi’s direction, and I looked up to see him hitting his pen against the table rhythmically, following the beat of the song, probably. There were a few new words jotted down in his notebook, the page looking like a mess of jumble to me, but probably to Mingi it was quite organized, and clear what he had scribbled down there. I looked back down at my phone, smiling as cute puppy videos popped up in my recommended, watching the video until the end before I left a like on it, scrolling past it. There were a few other posts from my acquittances from my uni classes, and I liked them all as I sighed, realizing a little get-away sounded rather nice now that I saw pictures of people traveling. I scrolled some more down, and froze for a second as Yunho’s familiar username popped up, three pictures posted one after another. There was one of two coffee cups placed on a small round table, with the view over the city in the background. The second picture was of the sunset, the sky purple and pink. And then the third one was of two intertwined hands, and I didn’t fail to notice the tag on the picture. It was probably that new girl, but I found myself not wanting to actually check, to actually confirm that it was her. I sighed, eyes lingering on the last photo, yet quickly realized, rather startled, that I didn’t feel as bitter about as I once used to. It didn’t make me react as badly like the first time I had seen his story with his new girlfriend, and my eyebrows furrowed as I ruminated on the feeling, taking my lower lip between my teeth. Yes, I still felt rather bitter about it, but it left me rather…cold? Unimpressed, maybe? Unphased, even? My eyebrows furrowed further more at the sudden confusion of my feelings, and I went to scroll again, when a username down at the comments caught my eyes.

minkiprncess: u never invite me out on coffee dates, im jealous

YuYu🌻: i thought u liked picnic dates more?

I quickly shut the app off and cleared my throat, finding my eyes glued to Mingi instantly. Seeing him talk like that to Yunho…was strange, but certainly not unexpected. They’ve been best friends since kindergarten. Their bond ran deep, and the way Yunho would often gush about Mingi, it only seemed right to see those words typed out by Mingi. But I still couldn’t quite wrap my mind around their friendship, and how it worked, since Mingi seemed to be…quite genuine as days went by. I hated to admit it, but he really wasn’t as bad as I had thought at first. Perhaps I was prejudiced, but it felt too soon to let my guard down, to truly open up and let him in like I once had done with Yunho. That was a mistake, and I was scared of committing the same mistake twice. With my eyes on Mingi, and seeing as he was rather occupied at the moment, I allowed myself the luxury to truly look at him, to take him in as he was. His profile was pretty as his black hair fell over his forehead in soft waves, definitely not styled, as I had seen Mingi run his fingers through it numerous times since I had arrived. His brow bone was rather defined and it came more forward, his brows thick and dark, seemingly a perfect fit for his features. His nose was tall and long, the bridge straight and almost perfect, probably leaving many jealous for not having a nose like his. His glasses framed his face, and they were once again slipping down his nose, but Mingi made no sign of wanting to fix that, of pushing them up as you were supposed to wear them. The distance between his upper lip and nose wasn’t too big, even from the side, his cherry red lips were plump and had a rather pretty shape, forcing me to swiftly try and look down at my own lips, wondering why a guy had better and prettier lips than a woman. I followed the sharp line of his jaw, chin not too forward, perfectly aligned with his nose, his well-defined cheekbones visible even from the side. My eyes lingered on the small mole on his jaw, way too familiar with its placement already as I had drawn it numerous times in my portraits of Mingi. I gulped and subconsciously licked my lips as my eyes ventured further, slipping down his exposed neck, his tan skin soft looking in the dim lights, his characteristic silver necklaces hanging around the base of his neck. Mingi sighed loudly and I looked at his face alarmed, thinking that I had been caught, but his eyebrows were furrowed as he took the pen he held in his hand between his white teeth, biting down on it as he looked frustrated. I had noticed before already, but his front teeth were slightly more ahead, protruding a little, and I couldn’t help but chuckle quietly, finding this trait rather…adorable. Not wanting to linger too much on that thoughts, my eyes found themselves fixated on Mingi’s fingers, and I frowned upon just realizing something.

『I'll let it go 'cause I won't see you later

And we're not allowed to talk it out

I said I'd go, put myself on show

But I'm still trying to figure it out』

His nails were painted black, with rather abstract looking designs, and as I squinted, absentmindedly leaning forward in my chair to catch a better glimpse at his middle finger, I could read the words, fix on, painted on it. My eyebrows furrowed as it made me wonder whatever that meant, and I decided to ask Mingi about it later if given the chance. I allowed my eyes to linger on his nails longer, gulping as I noticed almost each long finger of his was decorated by a ring. I wasn’t foreign to his rings, I have noticed that Mingi loved wearing rings, and the one on his middle finger, with the big red gemstone seemed to always catch my attention. I hummed silently, taking my sweet time to closely analyze each one of his rings, noting which were new, to me, as I haven’t seen them on him before, and which were the ones he wore almost daily. He seemed to have two silver ones that he never failed to leave at home, both littered with small stones, prettily shining under the sunlight each time. Mingi’s fingers flexed for a second, tightening around the pen he was holding, and I watched as he started tapping the table, a low humming sound coming from his lips. I blinked as I realized what I had been doing, memorizing every bend of his fingers, every line and any scar decorating it, storing their shape and length deep in my mind for the time when I would have to recall it in order to draw his hands. In the process of all this, I couldn’t help but also notice that his hands seemed rather big, they would probably engulf mine nicely. The thought made me lightly flush as I remembered us holding hands in his car after we shared some personal stuff, and I shook my head lightly, trying to get rid of the memory. There was a light shuffle as Mingi cleared his throat, making me very slowly drag my eyes up, until they fell on his face. More particularly on his sharp and small eyes, which were on me, his eyebrows raised curiously as a smug smile seemed to be plastered on his lips. Fuck. I would’ve face palmed myself if it wasn’t for Mingi watching me, so, instead, I tried to flash him my best poker face while I totally, and absolutely, flushed red in embarrassment.

“Were you…” Mingi pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes playfully, “checking me out?”

“Like hell I was.” I snapped with a loud huff, definitely way too fast.

“Oh, you weren’t?” Mingi feigned confusion, “But—damn, then I must be mistaken. You certainly weren’t like…totally ogling my face and then salivating after my hands, right?”

As if to prove a point, he wriggled his fingers, making me clench my jaw as I forced a pathetic excuse of a laugh out of myself, giving him an unimpressed expression, “I wasn’t checking you out nor any of those things you just said—”

“Are you like, really sure?” Mingi huffed, tapping his lips in an annoying manner, “Because now you’re making me feel crazy—”

“Oh my God,” I exclaimed exasperated, eyes widening as I huffed at Mingi, “fine, I was looking at your hands, but before it gets to your head, bro, I just simply think guys painting their nails is hot, okay?”

There was a long pause, Mingi’s eyes boring into mine as a smirk made its way on his lips, looking all smug and pleased with himself, “So…”

I gulped nervously as he suddenly pushed his chair slightly back, and started leaning in towards me, the look taunting on his face, “You think I’m hot?”

“Not you.” I snapped, glaring at him, “That’s not what I said—”

“But you indirectly admitted that I’m hot—”

“No, Mingi. I didn’t admit anything, God, this is why I don’t talk to you.” I huffed and pushed my chair back, feeling uncomfortable as he was siting so close to me, making me gulp nervously. I quickly stood from my chair and went to walk to get my backpack, but Mingi quickly reached out and grabbed my wrist.

“Where are you going?” He asked, smugness and smirk gone from his face. I rolled my eyes at him, but didn’t pull my wrist out of his grip.

“Home, obviously.” I huffed, and Mingi very gently pushed me back towards the chair, making me sit in it.

“Let me finish this up, and we’re leaving.” He quickly turned and went back to clicking away on his computer, pursing his lips as with his left hand he closed his notebook, throwing the pen absentmindedly on his desk. I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms in front of my chest, but didn’t say anything else, waiting for him to do whatever he needed to do before we would finally leave. Some fresh air would certainly serve well for a wakeup call.

            The light drizzle had turned into rain after we’ve reached Mingi’s car and waited for the engine to warm up a bit. Mingi wasn’t as embarrassed about it as last time, and I found myself feeling the need to reassure him that I didn’t give a shit whether his car was a fucking rocket or a simple carriage, as long as it was safe to drive and shielded us from the rain. Perhaps it was one of the very few times when I heard Mingi’s rich laughter, his head thrown back against the headrest and mouth wide open as he repeatedly hit the wheel, prompting me to match his laughter until my stomach hurt and I had to ask him to stop, unable to breathe anymore as tears sprung into my eyes. The radio was playing softly in the background, neither of us actually paying attention to it as Mingi had asked about my art class, inquiring about the painting I was currently working on. I briefed him about it as we had taken off, the rain making it rather hard to see well, but Mingi was a careful driver and he didn’t speed at all, being extra careful as the wipers of the car were placed on the fastest setup, the rain hitting the car loudly, making us raise our voices in order to be able to hear each other well.

“I assume you know Wooyoung and Seulgi are on a date.” Mingi spoke up as we had stopped at a red light, people running as they crossed the road, umbrellas doing almost nothing to shield them from the harsh rain anymore.

“Yeah, I hope they chose to go somewhere indoors, this rain is merciless.” Mingi chuckled, but nodded his head in agreement, leaning his head against the headrest. The cars in the lane to our left took off, their traffic light having turned green.

“Wooyoung mentioned about them going to the cinema, or at least that’s what he had in mind two days ago.” Mingi explained, shifting into first gear as the light turned green for us.

“Seulgi said something about a new place opening up where you could paint pottery while enjoying their delicacies.” I said in thought, wondering which one they have chosen.

“We should go there sometime,” Mingi took a right turn, mindful of the pedestrians and the huge puddles on the side of the road, “just the two of us.”

I hummed, thinking about it for a second before I looked at Mingi, “Sure.”

“Sure? Did you just say sure?” Mingi’s voice slightly raised and I chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, I said sure.” I repeated, Mingi’s mouth falling open.

“Did you just agree to going out with me?!” Mingi almost exclaimed, making me snort as I looked away, focusing on the road ahead.

“You didn’t ask me out.” I corrected.

“But I still could.” Mingi quickly said, making me shake my head with a small smile.

“Anyways, I hope Wooyoung makes his move soon.” I sighed, rubbing my forehead tiredly, “I’ve had enough of listening to Seulgi whine about how much she’s into him, but is confused of what Wooyoung wants.”

Mingi chuckled as he took a left turn, driving off the main road, barely three blocks away from my neighborhood, “Good to know I was right.”

I looked at him again curiously, and he quickly explained himself, “I’ve been telling Wooyoung she was into him, but he never believed me. He did say he’d ask her out today, but knowing Wooyoung…he might chicken out, again.”

I chuckled, amused by these two idiots, “Well, knowing Seulgi, she won’t chicken out. She also planned on asking Wooyoung out today.”

Mingi laughed, turning left, slowing down as he drove down my street, looking for my house closely. I smiled subconsciously and undid my seatbelt, planning to help him out by pointing my house out to him, but I didn’t have to. He was quick to come to a stop in front of it, placing the gear in neutral. He turned his head and looked at me, smiling, “Arrived.”

“Yeah.” I whispered and grabbed my backpack, looking out the window, eyebrows furrowing at the sudden downpour, the car’s windshield wiper good for nothing at this point, “Damn, why is it raining so hard?”

“I hate it.” Mingi whined as he looked ahead too, lips jutting out in a pout, “I can’t even drive home now.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t.” I agreed as my eyebrows furrowed, “It’s not safe at all.”

“Yeah,” Mingi sighed and turned the engine off, undoing his seatbelt, “I’ll just wait for it to settle down, and then I’ll drive home.”

“Yeah, you should do that.” I agreed, looking at him, the rain hitting the roof of Mingi’s old Honda Prelude loud, “And text me when you get home, so that I know you’re safe.”

Mingi’s cheeks flushed, but just ever so slightly, and my eyes widened as he tried to avoid eye contact the more persistent I became, “Yeah, uh, I will. Promise I won’t forget this time.”

“You better,” I chuckled, rolling my eyes remembering all the times he would forget to text me that he had gotten to his destination safely, “I’m going now.”

“Okay.” Mingi’s head turned and we made eye contact for a second, before I offered him a small smile and pushed the door open, springing out of his car. It didn’t even take a minute for me to be completely drenched by the rainwater as I very quickly slammed Mingi’s door shut, gasping as my clothes got instantly soaked, hair sticking to my head. I turned and took off towards my house, running, but realizing it didn’t matter since I was already soaked. Well, so much for Mingi driving me home to save me from the freezing cold downpour. As I reached the middle of the driveway, I dared to take a peek at the sky, realizing that the almost black clouds looked menacing, and God knows when they’d pass, when the rain would stop. I stopped and turned, looking towards Mingi’s car as I bit my lower lip, having to blink my eyes fast to be able to see something. No car was driving down the roads anymore, no person out on the streets. What if the rain wouldn’t stop at all? It’s happened before, not even once. Would Mingi stay out in the car? He wouldn’t be able to leave if that were the case. Taking a deep breath, I made my decision as I raced back to his car, yanking the door open as I leaned down, Mingi’s wide eyes falling on my soaked form.

“Come inside, who knows when it’ll stop raining.” I called out loudly over the sound of the rain and the sudden rumble of the sky, making me shiver. I hated the thunder perhaps more than the flashing lightning. Mingi opened his mouth, probably to refuse my offer, but I didn’t leave room for him to argue, “Come on!”

And as I slammed the door shut again, he was out of the car in a second, closing his own door and locking his car quite clumsily, exclaiming as he got soaked in seconds, just like myself. I laughed as I took off towards the house, Mingi racing after me, giggling loudly as we reached the front steps of the porch, both shivering as I struggled to grab my keys out of my pocket.

“Oh my God, this sucks!” Mingi exclaimed just as another thunder shook the ground, and I jumped, throwing a glare towards the sky. Mingi saw it and chuckled, urging me to unlock the door, “Doll, I’m freezing my ass off, please open the door!”

“Who’s the drenched puppy kicked to the curb now, huh?” I asked with a teasing grin as I unlocked the front door, pushing it open. Mingi chuckled and rolled his eyes, but not before playfully pushing me forward, urging me on to step inside the house first.

We could only hope the downpour would stop soon enough.

❱❱ Next chapter

[alexanderwales]

do you have thoughts on marination as a worldbuilding process?

you know the saying that about having a lifetime to write your first novel, but a few years the second. works like Worm or your own Worth the Candle could only take the shape they did because they're drawing a deep well of past endeavors and (inadvertent) preparatory work

often, it seems, authors won't, can't, spend nearly as much time sitting on their next ideas. and, arguably, they shouldn't.

cook up enough worlds and plots, and you learn which questions are interesting to ask, you develop a repertoire of favorite themes to vary and truck around cuttings to give new homes. so much of initial "marination" is spent in blind alleys and skill-building

i don't want to write a blogpost in your inbox (sorry), so i guess to hone in on what i want to ask: how highly do you value marinating on ideas? how much is it something you try to leave slack for, or occasionally sacrifice? do you have general recommendations for or against the approach?

this is one of those topics where the simple, sure, and unsatisfying answer is "it depends" or "balance the extremes", but maybe there's personal notes to add - or toss out the framing?

I tried to answer this three times and threw away those replies, so let's hope this fourth time is the charm.

I guess if the question is "how much does giant amounts of upfront work that you simply throw away or distill down to almost nothing help" then my feeling is that there are a lot better ways to get virtually the same result. If you're going to spend 100 hours getting ready for a story, then I think you can do that in ways that are much more effective (but maybe less fun) than writing test chapters for different characters.

So how important is spending those hundred hours, or however much time it is? Assuming that we're talking about just worldbuilding, or characterbuilding, getting lots of ideas lined up and ready to go, rotating them in our head to make the connections with each other and spark inspiration ... eh? Kind of not really that important?

That is to say, I think that there are really incredibly heavy diminishing returns on worldbuilding, and it's usually not that hard to pluck the low-hanging fruit, especially if you've had some practice with that.

Two caveats to that.

First, I think the thing that web serials do is kind of different in some significant ways from what a novel does. They tend to have lots of characters, and they tend to switch locations. If you're putting out two chapters a week, it actually is important than you have a lot of stuff ready to go, because otherwise you can find yourself creatively tapped when you find yourself in need of a new superhero team, or a new nation to come in for their story arc. It's great to have things in your back pocket, a stack of ideas that you can mine out, old works you can cannibalize, etc. This is much different from writing a short novel, where you're not constantly pushing to new frontiers.

Second, there's a difference between spending a lot of time-at-desk, and spending a lot of time-in-days. If you're spending time-at-desk, I think you start hitting the diminishing returns fairly quickly: if I spent a 40 hour workweek bashing out a world, I actually kind of doubt that it would be all that much better than a world I'd spent 10 hours on, there would just be ... more of it, I guess? It would be fleshed out in ways that are good, but not vital to the story, and which wouldn't reflect themselves too much in the narrative, maybe mostly being things that I would come up with during writing anyway given a solid base?

But if you spend time-in-days where you have this idea and it's sitting there in your headspace, I think that can be extremely valuable. You're just going about your normal life, reading fics, watching TV, doing dishes, cooking, etc., and something sparks a connection, or you just deliberately contextualize a topic within the context of your world, and that gets jotted down somewhere so you don't forget it. Eventually, if you do that enough, your world develops and deepens and gets richer, just from being kept around.

So these are very different, I think. One is "put in a bunch of work" and the other is "don't put in a bunch of work, just keep this background process running". And it is very valuable to have time-in-days, because you get this trickle of associations and more depth that can only come from new connections forming. (Note: probably there are other ways to get this, probably you could substitute some amount of time-at-desk, or do deliberate exercises)

But I don't even think time-in-days is that valuable, either! One of my maxims is that "you won't have all the ideas you're ever going to have when you sit down to write the story", and that's true no matter how much you prep, unless it's a pretty short single-sitting story. All that time-in-days, you're still getting that while you write the serial, and you're probably getting more of it than you would if you weren't writing the serial, so it's just a matter of leaving yourself enough room to plop in the good ideas as you have them, and not be completely locked in with nowhere for the ideas to go. (This is one of the reasons that endings are hard, because you stop being able to introduce new cool things, and you're left only using the cool things you already set up.)

Fuck, I don't know if this was helpful or even what you were asking.

tl;dr: it depends, balance the extremes

[lina-lovebug]

USM characters dating a villains daughter

- you were recruited into SHIELD based on your merits and smarts

- also including the fact that your dad was a villainous genius and wanted you farrrr away from all that mess

- you helped the team every now and then concerning tech stuff or hacking, and Spidey developed a crush on you

- you found him cute, having seen his face a few separate times, but knew that once he found out that your dad has made multiple attempts to clone his DNA and/or kill him then that crush would die

- it was a small accident from one of the other agents, but one that made you avoid Spidey for WEEKS

- "Oh hey Miss. Octavius" "Oh hey-"

- normally you'd let that slide but not when you were having lunch with Spiderman

- "Octavius? Like-?" "Wow, I'm late for a meeting. Bye!"

- it sucked too because you used to have a great relationship with your dad but his change and obsession over Spiderman drove you two apart

- you missed your dad

- each time you walked past the team training or happened to be in the same room as Spidey, you'd avoid him like the plague

- you would have kept doing that but suddenly found your hand webbed to your desk

- "You're avoiding me" "who said that?"

- after a long conversation that you weren't a spy or a weird creepy person trying to clone him, he let out a sigh of relief

- "And here I thought my crush on you was ruined" "yeah same here. . ."

- the team teased you both about that for the next month

- it's not everyday that you find out your dad is a terrorist

- okay not exactly a terrorist but one of the most dangerous men in the entire world to the point where they locked him in a prison without any metal

- yup, your father is Magneto

- it was fresh into your relationship with Danny when you found out. Your mom died when you were a baby, and you were adopted by an Agent of SHIELD

- it began to explain so much - your powers always have been strong, even for a mutant. You excelled in your strength and control, except for the few moments where anger woukd get the better of you

- you were scared to tell him. You had been dating for barely a month now, what if he got scared? Magneto brings fear to his name for a reason

- but you didn't have to tell him because Magneto had already found you. It's a strange thing to feel your child through your shared gene of controlling metal

- "(Y/N), I know I was never present before, but I never knew that you-" "Love, what's he talking about?"

- Magneto raised his brow at the green clad boy beside you and you rightfully began to p a n i c

- "I'm her father, and you are?"

- Danny is like 👁👄👁

- "You're not my dad. My dad is Agent (L/N), and as far as I'm concerned, the only person who knows me."

- and still, Danny is just 👁👄👁

- also okay my girlfriend didn't know that her dad is one of the few people I'm scared of

- After the initial blow up, you refused to talk to him. Erik Lensherr wanted to get to know you - to know the little girl he never knew he had even though this motherfucker has kids EVERYWHERE

- it was Danny who encouraged you to know him. You didn't have to force yourself to call him dad but you could atleast try to see if he's worth knowing?

- "How long have you been dating that boy?" "Oh, uh, a month now." "Hmm. . .he says strange things but I like him"

- He never saw it coming but Danny is the number one favorite of your adopted and biological dad. Yippee

- "When do I get to meet your dad, babe?"

"Uh. . .how do you feel about never? Also he's in prison, so not exactly the best meet up scenario."

- Luke knew you had a complicated relationship with your dad but never knew exactly how complicated

- first few years of your life, you were always on the road with him. You never thought much of the constant moving and new motel rooms every week - it was just a roadtrip

- until that roadtrip ended with your dad in custody and you cowering in the bathtub with claws and trying to act like a very scary person

- you looked like a spicy cat

- Luke was still curious though and since you weren't giving him much, he decided to sneak into the SHIELD database

- Sabretooth a.k.a Victor Creed who is sadistic and violent, and used to bring you on "roadtrips" which could have very easily ended up with you being killed

- also making Wolverine your uncle who didn't visit much himself

- "ooohh that's why she accidentally called Fury dad that one time"

- daddy issues to another level

- anyway

- Luke respected your decision not to see nor talk about your dad, now knowing that he never really cared about you

- it also made him realize why you were so avoidant when you first joined the team #likefatherlikedaughter

- but you were nothing like Sabretooth thank fucking christ and loved Luke, so he planned a dinner for you to meet his family

- and if you're wondering, yes, Victor found out you were dating whilst in custody and ended up destroying his prison cell

- oh yeah, Sam already knew

- you mean to tell me that a girl with green magical powers, a golden headpiece with horns AND who calls Thor "Uncle" is Lokis' Daughter?

- :0

- you weren't exactly subtle when it came to the few times the team and Loki butted heads

- "Dad, stop fighting my friends!" "They started it!"

- Meanwhile Sam over here like "Wow my crush is an actual Goddess"

- being half Frost Giant and half Asgardian came with perks, and one of those being that your body temp was always cold so Sam CLUNG to you during the hot summer days

- you and Sam were on the roof of the Hellicarrier when you confessed your feelings and out of excitement, Sam grabbed your face and kissed you

- spoiler alert: Loki also decided it was a perfect time to visit you

- so imagine your dad's surprise when he portals to Midgard to see his daughter and sees some mortal sucking her face off

- it was a very eventful and frightening evening for everyone, to say the least

- "Dad, I'm sixteen. I'm allowed to date" "that's like a fetus in Asgard. Come back to me when you're 500 and perhaps you can date"

- you dated anyway

- Sam didn't care that Loki is your dad, insisting he also wasn't afraid this bitch is terrified

- despite your differences, you do love your dad and he loves you, so you don't understand his hatred for Sam

- that was until Thor dropped the bomb

- as an Asgardian, you're immortal and Sam will eventually die. So Loki is terrified that one day you'll lose Sam and be left with nothing

- cue the mental breakdown

- "You did WHAT?!" "you weren't giving her answers, brother." "No but you've given her a crisis!"

- It was something Sam thought about from time to time but seeing you so heartbroken about it made him sad, and it kept you both distant

- Loki forced himself to talk to you, telling you to enjoy your time with Sam and if you wanted to one day - you could give up your immortality, if that's what you wanted

- after a long and much needed discussion, you came to Sam with the information. He felt bad that you'd have to surrender all that you were just to be with him, but you said:

"I'll still be who I am; I'll be the annoying magic girl who saved your ass"

- with a bonus of Loki admitting that Sam wasn't that bad he adored you two

- so like

- your dad is kinda fucked

- you just so happened to be the one who was somewhat sane

- you happened whilst your parents were casually dating, and while any other kid might want their parents to stay together, you were more than happy that your mom left

- your dad is Victor Von Doom and your mom? Hot asf Susan Storm

- Reed and Susan raised you away from him, and you inherited your own abilities from when Susan was caught in the storm in space

- you met Ava when the Fantastic Four visited SHIELD for some meeting, being the teenager dragging along because you've always admired your mom and dad's work

- Fury was eyeing you for your brains, considering bringing the matter up to Invincible Woman and Mr. Fantastic first

- after some debate, you were in and met White Tiger first and once she took off her mask, you were like "damn"

- "what?" "I-I mean, damn it's nice to be apart of the team"

- you both got along great, and she admired how smart you were and capable

- she asked you out and it had been a great few months, but you did receive a yell from Fury after he caught you two in the main tech area

- you weren't hiding it necessarily but it did shock her that you never told her, I mean, dudes number one for a reason

- "your dad is Doom?!" "Hes not my dad, he's my sperm donor - there's a difference"

- never in a million years did you consider Doom your dad. Reed raised you, and he called you his daughter from the moment you entered his life, so no - Victor Von Doom was not your dad

- she knew she touched a nerve, almost sounding accusatory, and apologized

- but she had no reason to, you reassured her, before giving her a kiss and asking if she wanted to come over for dinner to meet them

- she said yes :)

[blazingstar24]

TMA Pokemon AU: Jmart Edition

Alright here’s Jon and Martin’s teams! Previous post was on Elias and Peter’s teams which you can find: here. As Elias and Jon share some pokemon lines being Eye avatars and Peter and Martin kinda share one and the more in depth explanation is on that post

Jonathan Sims:

Espurr: As stated in my previous post, the Espurr-Meowstic line is Eye aligned and has strong psychic powers. Espurrs however cannot fully control theirs unlike the more experienced evolved forms. As such Jon and Espurr grow their powers alongside each other. He caught his Espurr shortly before his promotion (which Elias took as a good omen)

Espurr has mad beef with Meowstic though. She’s normally quite shy and tends to hide behind Jon or sit in his lap while he reads statements, but when Espurr sees Meowstic around the Institute, she immediately gets defensive (see cats puffing themselves up). It’s not uncommon to see those two in some kind of staring match around the archives.

Munna: Again per previous post, the Munna- Musharna line is Eye aligned with their dream/nightmare eating ability being similar to Eye avatars tormenting their victims dreams. Actually all head Archivists get a Munna upon promotion. Even Gertrude had one. Jon found a pokeball on his desk when he was promoted, a gift from Elias. He thought nothing of it until he read through Gertrude’s notes saying she was suspicious of it.

His relationship with Munna is complicated. The pokemon can’t help being Eye aligned, but he never wanted to be an Avatar of the Eye much less an avatar of anything. When he accepts being one and wakes from his coma, it evolves alongside his Espurr.

Type: Null : The funny thing about Type: Null is that it’s incredibly rare and not naturally occurring. It was made by people to imitate a god. A god that can use and be every type. Yes, Type: Null represents Jon being marked by all the fears (and a bit of the lighter) and is somewhat of the receptacle for it as well.

Jon has no memory of catching it nor does he question it until remembering the Leitner book he read as a child. Type: Null appeared as his after that incident. Its pokeball is always on his belt, he doesn’t know where it came from. Despite being a gift from the Web and what Elias is using to prepare him for the Watcher’s Crown, Type:Null is loyal and tries its best to protect Jon. It’s been with him for a long time and to be fair Jon is also quite attached to it as well.

Diving into the more vibes based pokemon now:

Smoliv: Anxious little dude. Peak wet cat Jonathan Sims energy. Also Jon feels like a grass type trainer if not for the supernatural shenanigans pulling him into a Psychic/Fairy typing.

Snivy: Again vibes but really Snivy has that same stuck up attitude of s1 Jon, it’s a solitary type pokemon and when it evolves into Serperior, it is able to defeat enemies with a single glare (Aka s5 Jon obliterating other avatars) Snivy was Jon’s starter pokemon, has been with him longer than any of the rest. Snivy’s prickly attitude is a much of a defense mechanism as it is for Jon.

Noctowl: Vibes but also Jon raised it from a Hoothoot! He would stay up late reading and a Hoothoot would be outside his window. It was his companion at night and eventually he saved enough allowance to buy a pokeball to catch it.

Jon thinks it makes him look scholarly….Tim says it means he’s a fucking nerd. Martin thinks it’s cute. If Jon has to battle, it’s Noctowl he’s sending out.

Martin Blackwood:

Audino: Healer pokemon, kind and gentle. Emotionally intelligent. Martin is at his heart someone who wants to help thus he would have an Audino. He also has Audino because he did drop out of school to become a caretaker for his mother so he would need the help of a healer pokemon.

Mawile: Mawile’s whole thing is that she looks cute but is deadly when you get close. Which does fit Martin’s looks like cinnamon roll, will kill you vibe. He’s got plenty of spitfire in him and yet tries to be kind. But truly Martin’s not the doe eyed guy that most people think he is. In fact out of all the archives staff, at least after Sasha is gone, Martin is the best battler they have.

He caught Mawile as his first pokemon and she is very protective of him. She likes to surprise people as Audino is the one people see hanging around Martin more often, so they are usually shocked when she pops out of her ball, ready to throw down.

Polteageist (antique form): Spooky tea. That’s it. Martin would have one. He thinks it’s cute and sure he caught it on Institute grounds and maybe the sheer amount of ghost types appearing around the Institute is a little creepy but Martin doesn’t mind. Who wouldn’t love a little tea cup?

Joltik: A nod to Web!Martin. He caught Joltik before being hired and the little spider loves to hang out with him. Joltik often sits happily upon Martin’s head and also sometimes messes up the electronics more than usual.

Joltik freaks the hell out of Jon so Martin is careful not to bother him with Joltik on his head. (Jon eventually gets used to it, but he does still get weird vibes from it)When Jane Prentiss attacks, Joltik refused to come out of its pokeball. Joltik also really hated Peter. Joltik is somewhat of a gift from the Web but it’s unaware of this. But it definitely made its hatred for Peter known for pushing Martin onto a different path.

Ninetales (Alolan): Caught during Martin’s Lonely arc. Martin’s not really an ice type trainer. He’s a multi type so it’s not like he has preferences but he’s very aware that Ninetales didn’t fit his team dynamic. And that was good because he caught Ninetales to help further his fooling of Peter.

Despite this, Martin does take care of Ninetales and as much as he did fight it, Martin does end up leaning towards the Lonely. As stated before Martin’s a damn good battler, and when shit goes tits up in the Apocalypse, he knows how to integrate Ninetales into his battle style and destroys avatar ass with them.

Sylveon (shiny): (The shiny part is just because the inverse blue and pink matches Martin’s color palette more.) Like I said in my Lonelyeyes poke post, it is Lukas family tradition to be given an Eevee and to turn it into a Glaceon upon being initiated into avatardom. So Peter gifted Martin an Eevee.

And welp sorry Peter, the power of love beats the Lonely and when Martin reveals he did all of this for Jon, his Eevee evolves into a Sylveon, thus rejecting the Lonely. (Elias was fucking losing his shit at this, he was almost too busy cackling to tease Peter about losing their bet.) It is also Sylveon that helps lead Jon to find Martin in the Lonely, despite not even know that it is Martin’s pokemon. Jon just felt somehow connected to it and through it, Martin.

Notes:

If they were in the actual Pokemon world, Martin would be an Ace Trainer or a Ranger. They are lucky Martin choose to be kind because he would make a damn scary pokevillain.

Jon would be a poke-researcher. He would love to just be filling out a pokedex, looking into pokemon myths and legendaries. Getting his ass beat by them pokemon like Professor Birch and the poochyenas. (Pokemon AU in which Jon is a professor who is always getting into trouble because he is dogshit at battling and Martin somehow always finding him on his journeys and having to save him from whatever legendary Jon discovered and pissed off. The archives crew are still Jon’s assistants and they are just like hey man maybe stop going into weird caves???)

Snivy was super snooty to Martin in the beginning much like its trainer. But also much like its trainer, Snivy got very attached to Martin as Jon too fell in love with him. Snivy was very distressed when Martin was on his Lonely arc and stopped coming around.

Audino is often very worried about Jon, seeing as the man is kidnapped on a regular basis, would probably keel over if a strong gust of wind came along, and has very little sense of self preservation. Martin has Audino watch over Jon when he’s off distracting Peter. Bless Audino’s heart because she had to hear the Jmart pining from both sides and she’s not even telepathic like Espurr so she can’t tell them to just kiss already.

Despite Jon not being great at taking care of himself, he is excellent at taking care of Pokemon. This is due to him reading a lot as a child and basically did the “i read the dictionary as kid so now i know lots of words” thing except he just read and studied pokedex entries a lot as child and now is super well versed in random pokemon facts. Which leads to him being very good at knowing what each pokemon needs. Even though Joltik freak him out, he still carries around battery packs for it to snack on.

[dewdropdinosaur]

Falling for You Part 2

VOX x READER Part One Summary: After the incident, you can't stop thinking about Vox. Little did you know, he can't stop thinking about you either. Warnings: NONE. More sassy narrator :0 This was a request for the wonderful @mcueveryday. Enjoy my lovely! REQUESTS ARE OPEN! See pinned post for details.

About a week had passed since what you were referring to as the “incident”. AKA, falling less than gracefully into Vox’s arms and practically making a fool of yourself. Everything had gone back to normal, at least it seemed to. You still did your heavy workload, still hung around Vox every day and late into the night, still drank over 400 mgs of coffee which you knew you should probably stop doing. In fact, the caffeine was probably the reason you were so anxious about the message you just got. 

‘Meet me in my office at 6 pm - V’ 

That was it. You were doomed. Vox was gonna fire you or worse…find out you have feelings for him. Gripping your head in your hands, you lay down on the flat of your desk and let out a heavy sigh. ‘Put on a game face, just get it over with’ repeats over and over. The monitor of your computer reads ‘5:55 PM’. It has been different lately, with Vox, despite the routine returning. As if toeing that line of flirty and professional had become obsolete, a taboo. Never to happen again. You could hardly look at him anymore without remembering the feeling of his warm hands on your waist, how his figure vibrated with a soft static that could’ve(and almost) lulled you into a sense of security and peace that just felt right. 

It felt right to Vox too. Him…Vox.. the charismatic and intellectual news anchor of Hell's 24/7 news channel ‘666’, had found himself caught in a web of emotions. He was the embodiment of chaos and cunning, but deep within the gears of his mechanical heart, there was a longing for something more.

You were definitely a force to be reckoned with. Smart, sassy, and absolutely unimpressed by Vox's grandeur, you had managed to keep him in check. You had been by his side for years, witnessing every outlandish broadcast, every flashy promotion, and every whirlwind scandal Vox was involved in. Yet, behind the scenes, an unspoken connection brewed.Vox couldn't quite put his finger on when his feelings for you had shifted from professional camaraderie to something more profound. Perhaps it was the way you effortlessly handled his chaotic demands, or maybe it was the subtle smiles you shared during stressful moments. Nevertheless, Vox found himself captivated by your fiery personality. 

Then again, you too, were not immune to the magnetic pull Vox exerted. Admiring his flamboyance, his cunning charm, and the way he managed to always stay one step ahead in the cutthroat world of Hell's media. It was a guilty pleasure, one you dared not confess, let alone to Vox. Hell, you hadn't even written it down in your journal for fear of being discovered. 

Vox, normally unfazed by such situations, felt a peculiar nervousness creeping up within him. Sure, he had flings and scandals, nothing a little media and personality couldn’t fix; the man had base and carnal needs after all. But..this…this was different. You were different. 

As six pm approached, you cautiously entered his office with your usual charm to conceal your nerves(a clever ploy dear, I wonder how long that will last). 

"Need any help, boss?" you smirked, usual confidence masking the subtle vulnerability that lurked beneath. 

Vox spun his chair to face you, a smirk gracing his features. Both of you were playing this unspoken game of cat and mouse…who would talk about it first?

"You know, Y/N, I've been thinking," he began, his voice surprisingly soft.

"I've been dancing around this for far too long and I think I have come to a conclusion.” Vox rising from his chair, strode over to you and hovering over your figure. Your eyes widened, and for a moment, the usual demeanor was at a loss. In that vulnerable moment, Vox and your eyes meet, and for the first time, the depth of emotion reflected in each other's gaze. The tension between you crackled, igniting a spark that neither could ignore. Both smirks and facades fell and crashed. 

With trembling hands, Vox reached out to caress your cheek, his heart pounding with anticipation. Breath caught in your throat as you leaned into his touch, both of your desires laid bare for each other to see.In a bold move fueled by years of pent-up longing, Vox closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to yours in a fervent kiss. Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the intoxicating embrace, passion ignited like wildfire.

Removing himself slowly, a genuine smile played on your lips as you felt your knees buckle a little. Holding onto Vox for support, he grabs both your hands and helps you up. 

Vox chuckled, relief washing over him. "There you go again, falling for me darling.” 

“That’s what you go with, you egotistical bastard?," you teased.

With a shared laugh, the tension between them dissolved and in that moment, Hell seemed to stand still. 

“Took you long enough you know?

“Y/N, you know better than anyone not to rush me.”

“And you know better than anyone that I run a tight ship! So do remember next time you wish to kiss me, that you might wanna schedule it because damn it Vox! I have been stressing about liking you for centuries!”

“You and every other woman in Hell.”

“Vox…”

“I know, I know. Trust me darling, I have only fallen for you. Or…rather you for me—twice.” 

“I hate you, you know that right?”

“On the contrary, you quite like me dear.” The charismatic news anchor and his fearless assistant leaned in, lips meeting in another kiss that felt like an eternity in the making. Turns out you didn’t have much to worry about after all. Still, you do need to lay off the caffeine dear. It's not good for your heart.(Neither is going a few rounds on your bosses desk with your boss but that is a...ahem...long story for another time)

[sweetspidergirl]

A Tangled Web (Spider HRT Story)

Chapter 1

“This is stupid. Why am I doing this?”

This question echoed in my head as I sat in the sterile waiting room of the doctor's office, accompanied by the sound of the clock ticking away in the background. Besides me and the receptionist behind the counter, there was no one else in the room. That made sense. With it being a few days before Christmas, who would willingly want to spend any amount of that time in such a depressing location?

A twenty-five year old woman dissatisfied with her life and seeking a new one, apparently.

As I sat there waiting for permission to see the doctor, my mind drifted back to how I got here. It was half a year ago where I first vented frustration over my life to my best friend Elisa, and she mentioned how I might be going through species dysphoria. She then sent me some articles and links and suggested I look into humanity removal therapy, or HRT.

I had been vaguely aware of humanity removal therapy, often referred to as therian HRT, for a few months by that point. It functioned mostly like hormone replacement therapy, only it would gradually change the patient into a human/animal hybrid, or therian. It was a recent development, only having been available to the public for a little over five years, and still had quite a bit of controversy associated with it from various political groups. Despite that, based on the testimonials I read and the various pictures I saw, the people who have gone through therian HRT seemed to be happier now than they ever had as humans. Maybe it would be worth it if I gave the whole thing a shot. Maybe being in another body might help me be happy again.

I glanced down at the blank screen of my phone, looking over myself in annoyance. I noted the long, messy brown hair that I barely made look presentable. I noted the pale skin caused by a lack of social interaction and preferring the light of a screen over the sun. I noted the oval-shaped glasses and casual hoodie and sweatpants that hid as much of me as possible. I was another drop of water in the ocean that was humanity. Even my blue eyes, once bright and full of hope, had started to appear dim and non-descript as of late.

“Taylor Thompson?”

I snapped out of my thoughts as the doctor called my name. Turning my head in his direction, I got a good look at the man who would be deciding my future. He was an older gentleman, probably in his 50s or 60s, with a grey receding hairline and mustache. His thick, round glasses made it hard for me to see his eyes. Grabbing my belongings, I quietly followed the doctor as he guided me to his office. The office was what I expected to see: a small, plain white room with a desk, degrees on the wall, and bookshelves full of books that I would be too dumb to properly understand. On the desk was a small nameplate that read “Dr. T. H. Erian, Species Dysphoria Specialist” in large, clean letters. I set my bag beside me and took my seat, my heart beating like a drum in my chest. I swallowed the lump of anxiety that was forming in my throat. There was no turning back now.

“So, Miss Thompson, what brings you here today?” Dr. Erian asked in a stern voice. One sentence in and I was already having flashbacks to my high school principal. The main difference here, however, was that my answers actually mattered for more than avoiding detention.

“I, um, was hoping to be prescribed therian HRT. Specifically spider HRT.” I answered, trying to remain calm and collected.

“I see… and why a spider, if I may ask?” The doctor questioned as he began writing something on a piece of paper in front of him.

“Well, I think spiders are a lot like me. Most people are scared of them, but in reality they’re mostly just nervous, adorable little beans.” I explained with a bit of blush on my face.

“Any preferred species of spiders?”

“I was hoping to be a tarantula. They're cute and fluffy, and I think I'd look just as good as one.”

“May I ask why you wish to undergo humanity removal therapy?”

I took a deep breath and exhaled. “I've been unhappy with myself lately. My diet's been awful, I rarely go outside and interact, and in general I just hate everything about myself. My best friend, Elisa Andrews, thinks I might be going through species dysphoria. She works with therians and otherkin daily, so I assume she's right.” I explained to Dr. Erian. I then handed him a folder that contained the paperwork Elisa told me I'd need before being prescribed therian HRT: a medical examination, two psychological evaluations, written support from her and my father. I even spiced the folder up with doodles of webs and cartoon spiders in hopes that it would help my case.

Dr. Erian looked through the paperwork I gave him. I was unable to get a good idea of what he was thinking. His flat, emotionless voice was hard to read, and thanks to those glasses I couldn't tell whether he was impressed by work or annoyed at me wasting his time. I was hoping it was the former.

“Miss Thompson, before we continue, I'd like to ask an important question.” Dr. Erian spoke as he set the folder down in front of him on the desk. “How much do you know about therians?”

“How much do I know?” I asked curiously. “I mean, my best friend’s a physical therapist that works with therians, and I'm kinda aware of some of the legislature that's been passed recently-”

“That's not what I am referring to.” Dr. Erian interrupted. “I want to know if you understand what therians go through, what the process of going through humanity removal therapy is like and how you'll have to adapt. You are aware that I recommend patients spend some time living as their desired species before I prescribe them HRT, correct?”

“I-I mean… if it helps I have a few spider plushies.” I said sheepishly. I could already feel my luck running out.

Dr. Erian sighed and gently rubbed at his forehead before speaking again. “Miss Thompson, this is a serious life-changing procedure. Once you start therian HRT, your DNA will be rewritten to match your chosen species. You'll never be human again, even if you stop early into your therapy. I cannot prescribe it to just anyone who steps foot into my office.”

I sunk into my seat slightly, bringing my knees just under my chin as I almost curled up to feel safe and protected. “B-but… I was told you can help people with this kind of stuff.”

“I can, and I do. However, not everyone needs HRT. What you may think is species dysphoria could very well just be depression, and what you may need is something far simpler than a complete genetic rewrite.” The doctor explained.

I sat there in silence, barely listening to the doctor's words. He was saying so much when it all boiled down to one word: “no.” No, I couldn't get humanity removal treatment. No, I couldn't have happiness. No, I was doomed to hate myself for the rest of my miserable life. Tears started to creep their way out of my eyes, stinging slightly as they worked their way down my cheeks.

Just as I was about ready to give up and head home, I glanced up and noticed Dr. Erian looking through my papers once more. I was expecting him to scold me again. I hid my face against my knees and closed my eyes, bracing myself for his harsh words to wound my heart further.

“...are you sure becoming a tarantula will make you happy?”

I slowly brought my eyes up to look at Dr. Erian, not fully emerging from my self-made cocoon as I processed his question. What was making him change his mind? Did he believe that I'm suffering from species dysphoria after all, or was he simply taking pity on me? Regardless of the answer, I couldn't let this opportunity slip by my fingers.

“Y-yes… yes it will, doctor.” I responded, almost forcing myself to do so. A tense silence hung in the air for what felt like hours as Dr. Erian stared at me, almost examining me. I gripped the sides of my legs, waiting anxiously for either him to continue lecturing me or for me to have the courage to speak again.

“Well, if that is your answer, then I will approve you for tarantula HRT.” Dr. Erian said, writing on the piece of paper some more. “Considering it's the holiday season, it's likely your pharmacy won't receive your first dosage until after the new year, though.”

My heart almost skipped a beat at the news. I was… actually going to be a tarantula?! “Wait, really? You're… approving me for the HRT?” I asked, nearly jumping out of my seat. “Oh thank you Doc! Thank you very, very much!”

Dr. Erian sighed, writing some more information down on the paper. “As I explained, transitioning to a different species won't be easy. There will be some side effects to expect as your body changes.” He explained, making sure I had calmed down a bit before he continued. “Not all therians will experience the same side effects. Not all side effects will be present at once. Some will show up at different stages of your transition. At the earliest stages of spider HRT, I would primarily expect to see itchy skin as your hair grows in, as well as weight gain to provide material for your additional body parts to develop. Beyond that, you may experience headaches, nausea, dizziness, fatigue, and possible body pain.”

After making sure I understood the side effects I might encounter during my transition, Dr. Erian started digging through a drawer in his desk, and from there pulled out two items. The first was a pamphlet that had “Welcome to your Humanity Removal Therapy” written on the cover, alongside “Species: Spider” and a minimalist illustration of him. “This pamphlet will help guide you through your transition, Miss Thompson. It provides details on a recommended meal plan, the type of environment you should live in, a rough timeline of what changes you should expect and when you should expect them, a full list of potential side effects, and more.” The doctor explained. “I would make sure to give this a thorough read if I were you. I'll also be sending you a digital copy after our meeting. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me and I will provide an answer at the earliest convenience.”

I took the pamphlet in my hands, almost crushing it in excitement. “Of course Doc. I'll definitely give it a read once I get home.”

Just as I was about to get up and leave, Dr. Erian cleared his throat. “There is one other thing I must discuss with you before we conclude here, Miss Thompson.” He said, causing me to sit back down in my seat. “I still disapprove of you not doing any research on therian culture prior to our meeting. So… I'd like for you to interact with other therians while you're taking HRT. It's not mandatory, but I do feel it will not only help you learn about your new lifestyle but also potentially help with your mood.”

As Dr. Erian said that, he handed another item. I took it in my hands and looked it over. Instead of another pamphlet, it was a flyer detailing a therian support group that was close to where I lived. It detailed that it was bi-weekly, and that it was open to those on HRT, regardless of stage, as well as those questioning.

“I'll keep that all in mind. Thank you so much for all of this, Doc.” I said, stuffing the papers in my bag. After discussing insurance and other important information to get my prescription set in stone, I left the office and gave a heavy exhale as soon as I was outside. That was probably the most stressful talk I've ever had, but it was done and over with. While I stood outside and caught my breath, my phone started buzzing. Pulling it out, I saw that I was getting a call from Elisa.

“So, how'd it go?” Elisa asked, sounding exceedingly curious. Looking at the time on my phone, I hadn't realized she had just finished with work by the time I finished my meeting.

“Well, I managed to get the prescription, so that's good. You didn't tell me he was gonna be so scary though.” I answered back with a tiny bit of irritation in my voice.

“Hey I never met the guy personally. Besides, you still got the HRT in the end, so it all worked out.” Elisa answered back. “So how long before you start spinning webs and crawling up walls?”

“Well, my first dosage won't arrive until after the new year. Beyond that, well…” I trailed off a bit, glancing back at my bag and the papers inside of it. “I have some homework to do.”

---

NEXT:

Welcome everyone! This is the start of a (hopefully) long-term project I intend to work on. This is the story of Taylor Thompson, a 25-year-old woman seeking a change in life through humanity removal therapy. In the process of transitioning from human to spider, she'll learn more about the world of therians, as well as learn more about herself and what she wants out of life.

I want to thank @ayviedoesthings, @welldrawnfish, @entroart, @bubbleverseart, @nyxisart, @prettiestplatypus, @deadeyedfae, @kaylasartwork, and anyone else I may have forgotten (there's a lot of people I'm so sorry ><) for creating the world of therian HRT and creating such a community, as well as my fiancé for showing them to me and for inspiring me to give my own version a try. I can't say when the second chapter will be done, so just keep your eyes open, and I hope you all will join me on this long, wild ride.

Thank you so much in advance.

[hawkheartt]

Labseal but Luce is Lyla and gets stolen. Based on some kids book I found

Machine Assisted Research Intern Engine. Stupid name for a stupid little hologram. for some reason this book’s Miguel is tje CEO of alchemax? Ao3 fanfic sounding premise but whatever. This is so unnecessarily long I’m so sorry. Not reading allat.

Marie tolerated Miguel. If she were a weaker system, maybe she would’ve gotten attached, but she was the most advanced of her kind. She helped him, and he kept her up to date and charged. Mutualism was common in nature, she learned that by scanning over books that were nearly a century old uploaded into her database.

Inter-universe travel was being developed at an exponential rate, and Miguel was commonly out to assist other worlds on their work. “Web-Slinger, Earth 2038, he’s reported his guns are missing,” He said one day, leaving Marie at her small charging disk in his highly advanced office. He taps at the large screen of his watch, “You know the drill, keep the security up.”

It wasn’t uncommon for him to leave her, although the security systems in 2099 were forces to be reckoned with, she had been quite useful from time to time as backup. Her small holographic form sits against a keyboard behind her, a brow raised. She’s an odd little thing, faintly blue tinted in a short dress and a long fur lined jacket, her almost geometric curls make her look like she’s directly out of a game.

“Gotcha, you know where to call if you need me,” Marie’s voice is layered with a hint of static, but Miguel has grown used to it. With a nod and a swipe on his watch, a grand orange portal opens behind him, and he steps in without another word.

Maybe Marie would let herself shut down, get some rest before Spider-Man returned. In a quick scan over Alchemax’s security, she looks over the readings from other dimensions’ artifacts. There seemed to be one too many, but she could’ve sworn she saw Miguel bring something back from their last mission. She sits crisscrossed on her hardware disk, letting her eyes flutter closed as she leans her head back. She wouldn’t shut down her hologram just yet, however. She liked “existing,” enjoyed the feeling of being a part of the world around her. That’s where much of her intelligent capacity had been spent on, trying to appreciate life and cataloging emotions. She’s gotten much better at expressing the latter.

The faint sound of footsteps can be heard in the bowels of the office. Marie let her form flicker in and out of view, peacefully assuming that the footsteps just belonged to Miguel’s brother. The sound belongs to boots, but they aren’t heavy, they’re strangely light. Before her systems can process the intruder, a black glove reaches from between Miguel’s bottom monitors, phasing right through her hologram and grabbing her base disk.

“Hey! Who-“ Her form clips through the hand, and she pretends to hold on for dear life. She’s met with an unfamiliar face, accented with bright green tinted goggles and wild curls. They smile and flip their hand, sending Marie’s hologram to the other side of the disk.

“Look at you, how are you contained in this thing anyways?” The woman keeps her voice low as she takes slow, measured steps back away from Miguel’s desk. Marie quickly waves her hand to the side, attempting to bring up one of the small screens she’d use to help Miguel. “No, no, don’t try that.“ The other gloved hand comes up to flick Marie’s outstretched arm, “Did you seriously think I wouldn’t sever your connection? I could’ve sworn you were smarter than that!”

Almost alien tentacles rise behind the woman’s back, the end claw of one slithering down to tap at something on the side of her metal corset. Marie glances around, her programming spinning as she tries to take in the villain before her. Doctor Octopus, that’s all she could pin down before the hand on her disk squeezes and she’s forced to shut down.

Her world went dark, but her mind didn’t. Whenever she “slept,” whenever she was off, she could see into all the backups of her system, and there were a lot. But her little dream is cut off almost instantly, and she was shaken up by a clear difference in her surroundings, a clear difference in the very universe around her.

When Marie reboots, she’s met with sharp fluorescent lights and a bright white room. It was nearly the opposite of Miguel’s office, but its tech almost rivaled his. The room was messy, with out of place items lying here and there. Her hologram is lying flat on a table, and her hardware to the side. She’s trying to process her surroundings, but she’s unable to pinpoint the exact universe she’s been taken to. Wait, her hardware! Her hologram glitches when she stands, and she spins around to see that a hidden port on one side has been plugged into a desktop, one that’s much more modest than Miguel’s wall of screens. It’s just small enough be able to slip into Miguel’s watch, but it’s still susceptible to outside interference.

The doctor who took it is sat right there, her goggles pulled down to hang around her neck. “Earth 1620,” She says simply, sharp hazel eyes glancing down to the doll-like hologram on her desktop, “I’m sure that jump scrambled your circuits, hm?” Her hands leave the keyboard, and she rests an elbow in front of it. She’s in the same odd suit, soft green silicone with sleek latex, but now a lab coat has been haphazardly thrown over it.

“What is your problem?!” Marie raises her voice, the sound coming from both her glowing form and her hardware.

“Problem? I’m just curious!” Doc Ock snickers. She brings her free hand back to Marie, poking her harmlessly. The villain rests her cheek in her palm as she prods at Marie, her smile oddly radiant. “I’m sure Spider-Man has a few copies of you lying around, he won’t mind.”

He did, but Marie didn’t want to think she was just replaceable. She bats at the hand, and even though she only phases through it, she hopes the gesture is noticed. “Who even are you? I’ve only ever seen an Otto and a Carolyn.”

“Olivia, that’s who,” The answer is simple, spoken with a sense of purpose that Marie should’ve recognized. Olivia lifts her head to hold her right hand over the keyboard. “But I’ll give you all the data you need in a moment.”

“You know you can just tell me, right? Dozens of Spiders could burst in at any moment!” Marie gestures around at nothing, a strange hint of confusion in her mechanical voice. “Why take me?”

Olivia taps Marie’s head with just her index finger before lowering it to where her heart would be. “Because you’re the smartest little assistant in the closest hundred dimensions, and I could use some extra little hands. Besides, Miguel will come back home to one of your backup systems once he’s done finding those guns ten worlds away.” She clicks enter on her keyboard, activating what Marie can only guess is new code to override her hardware. It hits her like a shock, and she can’t help but let out a little shout. The “update” is instantaneous, and the main effect is obvious. She can feel.

“I’ve cut off contact to the Spiders, just because I won’t be hurting them,” Olivia smiles again, her expression not as malicious as Marie would expect. “And I’ve integrated you with the Alchemax systems, as well as with a few other devices I’ve borrowed from some Earths,” Now that Marie couldn’t call for help, Olivia was clearly much more excited to spill her plans to someone, or something. Clearly, she’s saving the biggest change for last. Her finger presses into Marie’s chest, but rather than phasing through, it stops. “And you’ve got touch sensors now, isn’t that neat? I found the code dormant in your system… I guess your ‘boss’ didn’t want you to get ahead of yourself.”

Marie, only being around the size of a phone, is clearly overwhelmed by the new sense. She brings her hands up to Olivia’s hand, her brows furrowing as she holds it. She can feel the faint weight of her jacket, the cool desktop pressing against the bottom of her shoes, and the painless touch against her chest. Her head is racing, if Olivia activated that code, what if she only planned to hurt her? It didn’t seem too bad for now, and there would have to be a way for her to disable it at times, but it was still worrying.

“How the hell did you access that?” Is all she can manage to ask as she still holds on to the doctor.

“You’re Alchemax tech, we’ve got similar systems in every world!” Olivia’s tone has lightened quite a bit, but she’s quick to switch back into that villain persona. She presses her finger in a bit more, her other hand hovering over the keyboard. “But I can track those systems, and shut them down just as quickly as I activated them. Neat, isn’t it? There’s loooots of old fail safes in case you ever grew self aware, but I suppose it’s too late for that, so I’ll just keep them remote.”

Olivia pulls away her left hand and types in a few more short commands. In a split second, a birdcage of Marie’s same color flickers to life around her. It’s clearly a hologram as well, but it’s tangible, at least to her. She grabs onto the bars, but they’re gone as quickly as they came.

“Why in the world would those be necessary now?!” Marie takes a few steps back, but not exactly out of fear.

Olivia just shrugs and rolls her eyes, “I can think of a few reasons, but they’re all quite… Out there.” Marie just frowns in response, and rather than being met with a new program, Olivia just fully turns to face her.

“Let me guess, you’ll lock me up if I don’t help y-“ Marie’s complaint is cut off, and she shrieks when Olivia scoops her up like a baby bird. She glows against the dark leather gloves, and for the first time, she doesn’t just fall through.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Olivia narrows her gaze, studying the blue tinted hologram. “I just wanted a new project, simple as that.”

•

I don’t think I’m going to be writing more for this, unfortunately. But while the book ends with doc ock being defeated and Lyla being saved. Liv was right in this au, she gets to keep a little robot doll while another version goes on as usual back in that universe. She also teaches Marie how to feel, in more ways than just touch, but I’m tired and can’t write that much rn

[endcant]

Crossposted from my Tumblr Community: The Trans South

--

The Trans South Monthly Bulletin Board

Our pinned post for the month of November, 2024.

comment anything you want to add, and i'll add what fits in this month's post. i'll be making a new post each month, so you may need to resubmit any links that are applicable for multiple months. check the comments for anything i missed!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

the bright side:

the fact that you're alive is good news to me!

"Good News: Some States Passed Protections for Abortion Access, Marriage Equality, and More" | Here is an article with some upshots and progress from the 2024 election.

"Lipstick Lounge Owners Break Ground on Sports Bar Venture" | "The Lipstick Lounge is one of only 32 open and operating lesbian bars in the United States registered with the Lesbian Bar Project."

"Florida's LGBTQ+ community defies queer repression with advocacy & preservation" | "I will not paint a desolate picture of the state. And, there still is hope."

"The Candy Shop: Columbia SC Rallies to Honor Landmark Black Gay Bar" | "Researchers and preservationists at Historic Columbia have joined the struggle to correct the way the club has thus far been "written over" in the historical record."

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TTS crowdfunds:

help fellow transgender people in your community today!

Catgirl-smash needs help with bills and moving!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

fun links:

things that gave me dopamine and kept me going

Read "When We Call a Place Home" by Chinelo Onwualu | "A utopian tale of historical memory, the dangers of forgetting…and vampires."

WEBFISHING | "WEBFISHING is a multiplayer chatroom-focused fishing game! Relax and fish (on the web!)"

Memory Games | I've been using these memory games to try to heal my brain a bit from long covid brain fog.

Mahogany's List of Black Banned Books | Read some books they don't want you to read!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

useful links:

interesting resources and organizations you should know about

Trans Reads | "Trans Reads is an ambitious project created by and for transgender people to openly access writing related to our communities."

Southerners On New Ground | "SONG is a home for LGBTQ liberation across all lines of race, class, abilities, age, culture, gender, and sexuality in the South".

Winners from The LGBTQ+ Victory Fund | Check out this list of winning LGBTQ+ candidates for various political offices from around the U.S. who were supported by the Victory Fund.

Lambda Legal's Help Desk | "a resource for the community we serve in providing general legal information and resources relating to discrimination based on sexual orientation, gender identity and gender expression, and HIV status."

Every State has a DD Council! | Did you know that it's federal law that every state must have a council whose job it is to hold their state accountable on behalf of developmentally disabled people?

Help the Palestinian People with a Click | "Your free click generates donations from our sponsors. Remember, you may click once a day, every day. Donations raised will go to UNRWA to assist the Palestinian refugees."

--

If you're an adult trans person in the U.S. South, join my Tumblr Community: The Trans South.

If you're a teen trans person in the U.S. South and you create a youth community for trans southerners, let me know and I'll link to it in The Trans South.

[hunting4fluff]

Spider Bite

A fanfic requested by @dropyoursocksandgrabyourcrocss, the first out of 2 promises! Sorry for the inactivity, I recently started college and it's completely wiped the floor with me. Anyways, enjoy!

Fluff fic, 1,328 words Lee!Reader Ler!Miguel O'Hara CWs: none Finally, a day of reprieve. 

You had been working hard all week to ensure the increasing anomalies in base were kept at bay and to say it was tiring would be a gross understatement. It had been alarm after rift after alarm, the blaring practically burned into your eardrums by now. You’d be lucky if you didn’t get tinnitus. 

What does anyone do after a long, thankless week of being on call? Why, treat themself of course!

You had just entered the bustling cafeteria with countless spider-people swishing on webs and standing in lines to get their fill when you noticed a slight shift out the corner of your eye. Your spider senses weren’t tingling, but people were definitely moving out of the way which only made the shift in the air more unsettling. Whipping your head to stare at the commotion head on, you can’t help but smile at the situation. It was just Miguel.

People knew when he was in one of his bad moods- usually he would be trying to make small talk with certain groups, grab someone’s attention when he had a small comment about their work, but never really driving people away or chatting much. Today he looked absolutely foul, glaring off into the void as he grabbed a to-go box with a burger and slinking off to his office once again. It was always a good idea to leave him be when he was in one of these funks, but the look on his face stuck around long enough in your mind to make you want to check in on him.

You grabbed a to-go box for yourself and opened a portal, bouncing down onto the platform of Miguel’s ‘office’. 

“What.” He grumbled out, hearing the soft thud and careful padding of your feet as you approached him. He saved his sharper tone for people he was less fond of, for now he just sounded tired.

“You’re in a fun mood today.” You point out, the playful smile evident in your voice as you hoist yourself up to sit on an empty spot on his desk. He spared you a glance and huffed, popping a fry into his mouth. “Aren’t you off work? Why are you still here?” He was avoiding the not-quite-question, so you of course answer then ask again.

“I wanted a meal and hopefully a conversation. What’s wrong?”

Miguel looked over at you before shaking his head with a defeated smile and rolling his eyes.

“Dios mío, you’re persistent.” He snorted, eating another fry. “Nothing, I just have one of those- what are the kids calling it? ‘RBF’s?”

You rolled your eyes at that, smiling as Miguel chuckled to himself.

“Yeah something like that.” You comment. Maybe he wasn’t in as bad of a mood as you thought.

“But since you’re here,” Miguel looked back at you, placing his food down in front of him and spinning his chair to face you. “I don’t think we officially completed your onboarding.” You blinked in surprise, quirking a brow. “Miguel, I’ve been here for three months.” You reminded him slowly, staring at him as if he had just lost his mind.

“Yes, I know that, but we skipped over a few details in your ‘canon events’ folder that I didn’t notice until a few hours ago. Lyla finally got to that part of the scan. Nada.”

Right. Of course, that made sense. You nodded your head and looked at him, waiting to continue. “Won’t take long. So, do you remember what kind of spider bit you?” He started, swiping up a screen and pulling up footage of your first canon event. The video was clearly inconclusive of the spider, the origin of it being unknown and making it harder to trace back to a definitive source.  You remembered the spider crawled under your shirt and bit your side, leaving a nasty mark the first night before you had actually gotten your powers- but you had no clue what it looked like.

“I… dunno. It’s been a while and I crushed that poor guy when I was bitten.” You shook your head. 

“Where?” It was an odd sounding question coming from Miguel, but his brain had worked faster than his words when it came spilling out. “Usually spider-people are bitten on the back of their hand, smacking it off for those who crush it. I would have been visible falling off your hand, but I can’t see it anywhere.“ He explained.

“Oh! Uh, somewhere on my side, like right here…” You gestured vaguely to where you remembered the spider biting- well, you remembered which side at least. Your left one.

“Alright… not super helpful…” He mumbled in thought, only for you to yelp in protest as he grabbed your side and held some sort of tool near it.

“Hey!” 

“Hold still, I just need a quick scan.” He ordered. Still you squirmed. It tickled. Miguel shook his head and grabbed your side again, this time earning a short giggle. He stopped in his tracks and looked up at you, processing what had just happened as you stared back at him tensely. You only had about two seconds to even stare before he had sat down his tool and scooped you up into his arms with a playful grin.

“Ticklish, are we?” He teased, one hand scribbling lightly up and down your side with the edges of his nails. The movement earned only more squirming from you as well as fresh peals of giggles as you kicked and wriggled in his grasp. His fingers skittered up to your ribs, gently tweaking the bottommost one before crawling up to lightly poke just below your underarm and crawl down again and it left you howling with laughter.

“M-miguel!” You cried out, squirming harder in your ticklish frenzy and almost managing to writhe free before he shifted his arm to wrap around your waist and start tickling your side. You doubled over with laughter, kicking out in front of you and pushing at his arm all the while his other hand came up to gently scribble at the side of your neck.

“You know, normally I wouldn’t be so childish, but I’ve been needing a little pick me up this week.” Miguel teased. You bunched up your shoulders, peals of giggles pouring out of you just as his touch began to slow down. He let you rest as you slumped in his grip, residual giggles bubbling out as you caught your breath.

“I’m a little surprised you weren’t laughing this hard as that spider crawled to your side.” He pointed out, emphasizing his point by poking two fingers into your side a couple times and sending a jolt through you.

“Ehehe- quit it!” You whined at his teasing, your cheeks growing flush as you squirmed again. Miguel chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, what? Quit this?” He began gently pinching your side up and down, pulling fresh laughter from you as you nodded your head.

“Yes- yehes! Quit thahat!” You managed to squeak out. His fingers remained pinched on your side but had stilled for the moment, but for some reason that was worse. The anticipation left you shaking and giggling, waiting for when he would start up again.

“Quit that…?” He prompted, his voice dripping with amusement as you awaited whatever fate become you.

“Please!” You spat out and Miguel relented, patting your side and finally releasing you.

“Certainly.” He snickered. You turned around and rubbed your sides, only to be greeted by Miguel’s grinning face- you can’t remember the last time he looked this happy, or even the last time he smiled. He put his hands up in faux surrender, shaking his head.

“I’m done, I swear.” He assured, and you relaxed a bit. “Let’s just finish our lunch.” He offered, sitting back down and picking up his to-go box in a gesture of good faith. Your food was still warm and it tasted delightful.