#Problem with your membrane

[ramservices1]

If you are looking for a RO water purifier repair, then you must know what kind of repair your unit requires. The most common repairs for RO units are associated with issues in the RO membrane. There are two types of RO membrane: polypropylene (PP) and mixed-bed ion exchange (MIX). The type of membrane will determine the type of repair needed. For more information on RO repair services, you can always contact our team at Ram Services and Sales, and we will be available to resolve your repair concerns. For general information on RO repair services, continue reading this blog.

Read More: https://ramservicesandsales.com/2023/05/19/repair-with-confidence-exploring-the-different-types-of-ro-water-purifier-repairs/

[deargravity]

kind of obsessed with "what if" scenarios that are ultimately fruitless because the outcome will probably never change.

can't stop thinking about the conversation the other miracles had about akashi's captaincy right after he was promoted. midorima's fierce belief in his friend's ability to pull the team together. kuroko's concern that it might be too much to take. did they ever talk about it? did akashi ever know midorima thought this highly of him or that kuroko cared so deeply for him? would it have changed anything if he'd known his friends trusted him but also wanted the best for him?

midorima's comment about akashi bringing the team together breaks me, in hindsight and i wonder if it broke midorima's heart too, in a way, when he realised his faith in akashi's capabilities backfired so terribly. that he'd unintentionally ended up abandoning his friend by framing the situation so that everyone relied on akashi without considering he might be able to rely on them too. (it's not mido's fault though, because akashi was already raised to always stand differently and ahead of his peers by his father but i still think the sentiment might have damaged him differently when coming from his friends.) midorima's capacity to focus on performing his personal best because he has fierce trust in his teammates but his initial difficulty warming up to shutoku because he was afraid he'd do it all wrong again? still thinking about that... i don't know... there is something so complicated about everything because midorima had so much faith in akashi, maybe to their own detriment, but it was at the point where nothing anyone could have said would have changed what was already happening. any one of them could have cared or not cared and it wouldn't have mattered because the pivotal moment was akashi's promotion to captain. they were kind of at the point of no return, you know what i mean?

and such early captaincy itself was another burden to shoulder for akashi especially at such an early stage of his formal basketball career where he'd barely begun to explore camaraderie through equal footing with his teammates before being relegated to captain, which inevitably changed the power dynamics again, separating akashi's role from the rest of the team. do you understand, do you understand, am i making sense? i think it can essentially be understood as akashi once again being given responsibilities before he's ready for them, before he's even gotten to enjoy what he's doing the same way his father increasingly enlists him in extracurriculars and enrichment classes at the first sign of competence in one or the other, and akashi's life just becomes a string of one next big thing after the other. he hasn't taken a real breath in a while. how long has he been holding his breath? how long has he been holding up the sky?

the worst part is that it is literally no one's fault except the coach and school administration that insisted on spreading these kids too thin. nijimura wouldn't have felt pressured to step down so soon if he hadn't felt like he had to choose between being a captain or a son, in the first place, which is a messed up choice to be forced to make. the whole situation upsets me because it's always the "trusted adults" in question causing all the problems in the first place.

i think about that scene with nijimura and akashi too much - the "are you uncertain?" "no, i'm worried about you." and i think about it probably more than i should. in a different context it could have been an exchange between akashi and kuroko respectively if kuroko had expressed his concerns sooner. the entire scene felt kind of despondent, too, and not just because of nijimura's news. it didn't feel celebratory at all and i guess that's just a testament to the trend of akashi gaining responsibilities faster than he's capable of shouldering them but having to carry them with grace anyway because there's no other option. because he loves his captain, he loves basketball and he loves this team that believes so absolutely in him that he has to be absolute in his strength as well.

there's just so many ifs but none of those could have changed what was about to happen. idk...

[nichiperi]

Ya know, I've been seeing a lot of stuff for the hc of Zim and Dib as found family lately, and something about it was actually bugging me a bit. Like, I really like zade, zadf, and zadr, and I just couldn't understand why I couldn't really get behind zads.

And then I realized it's ENTIRELY because of Professor Membrane.

I do not like the idea of Zim being absorbed into the Membrane family dynamic, because in the show (the IZ source I'm most familiar with) Professor Membrane is a really shitty parent, and there is nothing satisfying to me about Zim just hanging out at that house with Dib and Gaz, adding another sibling to an already fairly miserable household situation. Sure, they can support each other. But what is the point of keeping them stifled in that environment if Membrane is not present and being a parent?

BUT, consider the alternative: Dib and Gaz saying 'fuck this shit I'm out', and spending more time with Zim at his base. Eventually they just go off on space adventures or something because why not? Found family in space! No shitty dad! Maybe if you reeeeally want a parental figure, you could throw in a dash of the dad-nar hc in there for some extra spice. And THEN you could have Zim deal with his feelings about HIS 'parental' figures. If Lard Nar starts being a real dad to this group of ragamuffins, how does that reframe the way Zim feels about the Tallest? How does Dib feel about the fact that an alien could (most likely) be a better dad than his own father? How do the two of them react to getting positive attention they've never received from a parental figure before?

And when I started thinking of it that way, I saw the potential. I still don't think it's my favorite. I think I definitely enjoy more room for flexibility and ambiguity with Zim and Dib, and making them view each other as siblings almost boxes them into that role a bit. But I can see the potential for a really interesting story there!

Provided Membrane is out of the picture.

[fagziraphale]

what do you think aziraphale's several hundred years old strap is made of. i'd say wood and leather which is historically accurate but leather wouldn't last centuries being repeatedly exposed to heat moisture and friction. well maybe he miracles it or gets it reskinned every so often idk

[hobnob-moth]

Just a cute little Carmen to start the work week

[scientia-rex]

As a doctor, do you have any hygiene tips you think most people could use hearing? Like things people seem to neglect or do wrong that pop up and cause problems? Thanks!

EARS. Earwax is genetically determined. Some people get dry, scant earwax and others get wet, copious earwax. The biggest mistake I see is relying on Q-tips. Every time you stimulate the inside of your ear canal it makes your ears go “oh shit, there’s a threat! I better make more protective wax!” and next thing you know you’ve managed to jam a bunch of wax you told you ears to make back up against your ear drums and you can’t hear as well. Don’t rely on Q-tips. When you’re in the shower, let warm water run in, mush it around by pushing on your tragus (the cartilage flap in front of the canal), and let it drain. Repeat. Blot dry your ears with the edge of a towel or a Kleenex or something afterwards. If you tend to get really stubborn wax, use Debrox drops once or twice a week.

And vaginas. They’re mucus membranes once you get past the labia majora! You wouldn’t soap the inside of your mouth, don’t soap your vagina! It’s a self cleaning oven and if it smells weird GO SEE A MEDICAL PROVIDER because over the counter shit probably isn’t the right answer.

Dandruff isn’t because your scalp is dry. It’s because of a microorganism called malassezia furfur. It eats scalp oils. Dandruff shampoos mostly work pretty well.

Those are the three I can think of off the top of my head. Never use Irish Spring soap! It’s so heavily fragranced it’s a contact dermatitis waiting to happen! I once had a guy develop full body itching and I was JOKING when I said “what, did you just switch to Irish Spring?” and from then until he died he was convinced I was a witch because I was RIGHT.

[florencemtrash]

He Feels Safe With You — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel's sleeping habits begin to worry you, but after a conversation with Cassian, you realize you've misinterpreted the entire situation.

Warnings: Major fluff. Like tooth-rotting sweetness. Sleepy Az.

Author's note: I should be sleeping because I have work tomorrow but instead I've chosen to write this oneshot and I have no regrets.

It was starting to become a problem now. 

You cocked your head to the side, cradling a cup of tea in your hands and watching Azriel as he continued to sleep soundly in your bed. You had the windows cracked open and the early Autumn breeze swirled indoors with the scent of lavender, bergamot, and the strawberry jam you’d slathered over your toast. You checked the time once again on the glossy marble clock face. The arrow-shaped hour hand clicked ever closer to 11am, the minute hand close to overtaking its competitor. 

10:55am and Azriel was still asleep. 

The sheets clustered loose and low around his waist, mimicking the curling of his shadows up and down the ridges of his spine and across the delicate membrane of his wings. His wings hung loose and relaxed, stretching off the edges of your bed and caressing the floor with a lover’s touch. You blushed at the sight. When you and Azriel had first started courting each other three years ago, you’d thought through the mechanics of housing an Illyrian warrior in your bed — should you buy a new bed frame and mattress? Did you even have space for it in your apartment? The answer had been no to both, and yet Azriel loved when your daytime activities ended here instead of at the townhouse. If he cared about having to walk sideways to avoid the bookshelves in the halls or having to crouch to avoid the overhang above the staircase, he didn’t mention it. 

Three hours ago you’d woken up beneath the gentle weight of his wings, untangled yourself from Azriel’s greedy limbs, and crept down the stairs to your kitchen, bleary eyed but well rested. But that was three hours ago! Since then you’d brushed your teeth, washed your face, and eaten breakfast, and still the Shadowsinger hadn’t stirred. You were beginning to question whether he truly was the Spymaster of the Night Court as you sat in your velvet chair and admired your lover. You traced all the subtle movements of his body as he muddled through dreams you could only wonder at — the creasing of his brow, the slack line of his lips as he breathed, the twitching of his fingertips as he reached for some phantom object. 

The clock struck eleven and you sighed, gathering your plates but leaving Azriel’s pile of toast, butter, and honey alone. You also left the teapot and its mismatched cup, blowing magic over its lid in a silent command to keep its contents hot until Azriel awoke. 

“I’ll be down in the shop,” you whispered to his shadows, trusting that they would relay the message when their master finally decided to grace the daytime with his presence. 

One by one, shadows slipped off Azriel’s skin, curling around your ankles and wrists in a silent plea to stay. You shook them off like one might a needy child, promising you’d only be two floors down. 

The artists’ corner in Velaris was an eclectic array of compact townhouses, each outwardly dressed in their unique, dazzling finery. Your townhouse was squished between a painting studio and a luthier’s. The painting studio’s owner seemed intent on changing the color of the wooden sidings every other day and the drawings scribbled over the windows every other week. Today it was periwinkle blue to match the hydrangeas overflowing from the window boxes. 

You nodded in approval as you flipped the apothecary sign over from “Much apologies, please try another time” to “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” The blue would match your tulip yellow sidings and the clean white accents of the luthier’s. Last week it had been red and that had looked gods-awful. 

You busied yourself in the shop, crushing up lavender and herbs and boiling mugwort in fire-stained glassware in between flurries of customers until the medicinal stench in the air grew thick and strong. You were used to it by now. It smelled clean. Like home. 

You were finishing tying up a bundle of teabags when Cassian came in carrying a sturdy wooden box under one arm like it weighed five pounds instead of fifty. You snapped out the wrinkles of a cloth bag, dropping the teabags and five vials of sleep serum for the nightingale-winged nymph in front of you. 

“Four feathers and three strands of hair, as we bargained for,” you said, sliding the bag across the counter. 

The nymph nodded in approval, extending out a wing and shoving her fingers into the pillowy softness. She tested for loose feathers ready to pull.

“You’re a godsend, Y/n, has anyone ever told you that?” She pulled out three feathers, closed her wing, and started testing the feathers on the other side. “Finnigan’s was asking me for ten. Ten! Can you believe that? If I hadn’t found you in time I’d have been reduced to a plucked chicken.” She was much less precious about her mousey brown hair and yanked out three strands at random. “Oops, you get an extra strand today,” she sang, dropping the feathers and hair into the jars you held out. 

“Well it’s a good thing you found me then, Moricka.” 

“Honestly! I understand he’s got a large studio space he’s renting in the thick of the Palace, and even I will admit the ambiance is rather professional—” 

Cassian raised his brow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his scarred lips as he continued to stand motionless in the doorway. It was true your space was more… homey than Finnigan’s, but your expertise shined in intimate spaces. You liked the control and the familiarity that came from running a smaller business and you wouldn’t give it up for the world. 

“But I do think the success is getting to his head. You both studied under Lady Madja so I don’t see why—” 

You nodded absentmindedly. It was always like this with Moricka. The songbird in her made it difficult for her to stop talking, but at least her voice was pleasant. 

She threw her hands up in the air before finally catching wind of another presence in the room. Cassian waved at her with a wink and an orange blush creeped onto her full cheeks. He tended to have that effect on fae with his towering size and the wild beauty of his chiseled jaw and smattering of scars over his cheeks and brow. 

“Oh… oh dear, I didn’t realize you had another customer. Oh my goodness I’ve been talking your ear off all this time and you’ve been too kind to say anything. You’re a godsend, Y/n. A godsend! I don’t know what I would do without you, although I should really be letting you go now.” She grabbed her things and sidestepped the range of Cassian’s wings, trying and failing now to gawk. “I’ll see you soon enough again I’m sure.” 

“I’ll be here.” You sighed in relief when the doorbell rang behind her petite frame, the inoffensive smile you offered all your customers sliding off your face like oil on water. Cassian chuckled, dropping the box onto the countertop with a dull thud. 

“Long day?” 

You pulled out a stepstool and began rummaging around through the box, pulling out jars of squid ink, bark trimmings, buttons, and one particularly nasty jar containing a large eye suspended in yellow goo. “It’s not even three.” 

“Did I stutter?”

You tapped the glass and the eye swiveled around to look at you, pupil enlarging and constricting with a stutter. “Yes, yes very good,” you muttered your praise and Cassian fought hard not to shiver. He had a stomach for a great many things, but some of the specimens you handled tested his resilience.

“Thank you for bringing all of this. You’ve saved me a great deal of trouble.” 

“Perhaps you could do the same for me and tell me where my brother is? I’ve been looking for him all day.” Cassian leaned forward on the counter, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Are you holding him hostage, Y/n? Are you using your feminine powers to bring the poor male to his knees? I must admit, I didn’t imagine you as the kind capable of kidnapping. Or shadow-napping, shall we say?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m hardly holding him hostage.” You gestured down the hallway past the bookshelves and the cases of empty glassware where the light from the staircase glowed like an iron eye. “He’s upstairs sleeping.” 

Cassian furrowed his brows, stepping around and past you. He kept his wings tucked closer to his shoulder blades, careful not to upset the cramped organization you maintained in your shop. 

He smirked. “Still? Are you sure you didn't work your feminine powers last night?” 

You glanced out the store window. A few fae lingered outside the coffee shop across the street clutching takeaway boxes against their chest as they chatted and sipped their drinks. The street was otherwise empty. For now, you wouldn’t have to deal with any customers. 

You looked back at Cassian. “I actually wanted to ask you about that.”

His brows furrowed. “About feminine powers?” He'd meant that as a joke.

“Gods, Cassian let that go.” You wrung your hands. “I wanted to ask if Azriel was alright? Has he seemed… normal to you?”

“I don’t know, has he?” Cassian lowered his voice, sinking into one of the stools by the clear glass medicine cabinet. “From what I can tell he seems well. Happy.” 

Although happy was an understatement. Ever since you’d stumbled into their lives with Madja’s accolades and your wry humor, Azriel had been a goner. You’d pulled emotions from him as deftly as a spinster with a pile of wool, reduced him to a reverential, lovesick mess, and imbued his existence with a color not even Feyre could mix up. Which made it all the more confusing why you looked so nervous.

“You’ve seen more of him than I have, Y/n.” Cassian said. He braced his elbows against his knees, turning serious. The faint bags under his hazel eyes hinted at sleepless nights spent fussing over Neera. It was their fault really, any daughter of Nesta and Cassian was destined to be restless and particular.

“He just… he’s been sleeping more. Falling into bed early, but waking up late. Sometimes we’ll be reading together or just existing side by side and when I turn to face him, he’s dead asleep on the couch.” 

Cassian’s lips twitched, slowly stretching into a smile. You plucked a hemp bag off one of the wall shelves at random, tossing its contents into a mortar and beginning to grind just so you could have something to do with your hands. 

“At first I brushed it off, but it’s gotten to a point where I’ll be talking to him — mindless things, but regardless — and I’ll catch him dozing off. He’s always very apologetic after but I…” The mortar and pestle clattered to a stop. “I worry that he’s growing bored of me. Or that he’s sick in a way I can’t help.” 

“Y/n.” There was a smile in Cassian’s voice, and indeed when you looked at him, his teeth were glistening in the soft afternoon haze. His eyes shined knowingly, as if the answer were obvious.

You paused. “Yes?”

“He feels safe with you.” 

You blinked once. Twice. 

“Pardon?” 

Cassian tipped back in his seat, knocking his head against the cabinet with a rattle of jars and glass as he laughed. “He’s sleeping so much because he feels safe with you. It’s probably why he prefers to spend time here instead of at the townhouse and why he’s still dead asleep while we’re sitting here gossiping about him. Three years ago you couldn’t even whisper his name in a crowded room without him appearing from the shadows as if summoned.” 

You felt heat rise in your cheeks. “Oh... I see.” 

Cassian was grinning. “Y/n, I promise you he’s not bored of you. Azriel sleeping is a good thing. The gods know he could use more rest. I think he might be the worst of us when it comes to taking care of ourselves.” 

Something about Cassian’s words had a crack splintering in your chest. You knew about his past. You knew of the horrors burned into the ruined skin of his hands and the weight his duties deposited on his shoulders.

And here you’d been worried over him sleeping past noon. 

Shadows slipped down the stairs, pooling around your feet in a neat circle and kissing the exposed skin of your ankles. Azriel followed closely behind, still wearing his rumpled hair and pants and a shirt he’d hastily shoved his neck and arms into. He hadn’t even buttoned up the slits below his wings, opting to let the fabric swing free and loose and expose flashes of skin as he walked. 

He jutted his chin out in acknowledgement of Cassian and then folded himself over your back, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and dropping his face into the crook of your neck where he breathed in the scent of lemon and lavender and medicine. 

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” he said, frowning. There was a slur to his words.

“It’s past three, brother.” 

Azriel snapped his head up in surprise, squinting at the window and the afternoon sunlight streaking in. The pale cobblestones shone like they’d been drenched in honey. 

“What?” 

Cassian rolled his eyes, patting Azriel’s back fondly and mussing up your hair before walking towards the door. He flipped the sign from “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” to “Much apologies, please try another time.” 

“Goodnight, you two!" He called from over his back. "Remember we’re meeting at Rhys’s for dinner tonight.” He turned, bracing his arms against the top of the doorway and leaning forward like he meant to share a secret. “8pm sharp. Don’t be too late or we’ll get the wrong idea about what you two are up to.” He winked, then whistled down the street, letting the door close on its own behind him. 

Azriel sighed, going back to nuzzling his face in your neck. He peppered the sensitive skin there with kisses. 

“Will you be coming back upstairs then?” He murmured hopefully. "Now that you're finished with work?"

You bit your lip and decided rather quickly that the world would not end because you closed a few hours early. 

You led him up the stairs, past the kitchen and living room on the second floor, and then up to the third floor — your bedroom. The window was still open, the hustle and bustle of the city and the smell of coffee from across the street wafting in. Steam no longer poured from the lip of the teapot, so you knew Azriel had had something to drink, and where you’d left toast on his plate this morning lay only crumbs. 

Azriel dropped to his knees, untying your laces and helping you out of your boots. Then he straightened and tugged at the belt loops of your trousers, silently asking for permission before unbuttoning them and sliding them off your legs. Your shirt, then his shirt, and then his trousers joined the pile of crumpled clothing on the floor.

He gently pushed you back onto the bed, falling face first after you with a sigh. This was his favorite position to sleep in — you comfortable on your back and him laying with his hips slotted in between your legs and his head resting over your heart. 

You sank your fingers into his velvety, black hair. His hums of satisfaction flowed through your body, lighting every nerve with a comforting buzz. 

“Azriel?” You asked him, before sleep could finally claim him once more. 

“Hmmm?” 

“Do you feel safe with me?” 

He pressed his face further into the soft flesh of your chest, bringing his arms up and around your waist before allowing his wings to do the same. The thin membranes glowed red as hot coals, blocking out the most offensive rays of light from outside. 

“When I am with you, I forget that I was ever that boy whose hands got burned. When I am with you, the hundreds of years I spent feeling alone and worthless in this world melt away into nothing. When I am with you — when I am in this place that smells and feels so strongly of you — I can imagine a future that is good and pure and perfect.” He sighed deeply, seemingly ignorant to the pounding of your heart and the waves of feeling flooding your system. “So yes, my love — my Y/n — I do feel safe with you.”

“I feel safe with you too,” you murmured. “I love you, Azriel.” 

You kissed the crown of his head, earning one last smile and a slurred, “I love you, Y/n,” before his jaw went slack and the room went silent save for the mixing of your breaths and the stirring of shadows.

[dearharriet]

Sunday-Side-Up; James Potter 🍳

summary: you’re worried on the morning after a hookup with your friend, james

word count: 2.3K

warnings: pg-13 smut, sexually implicit content, fem!r, beefy/gym!james, pre-relationship, getting together, hurt/comfort(ish), fluff

note: this is technically an addition to sunday, another gym!james fic that I wrote, but u can read it as a standalone if u wish! u can find the request here

An egg simmers and pops in the buttery pan on the stove, mirroring your calamitous heart. It’s all you can look at. A rogue explosion of butter lands on the skin of your hand, but you hardly even flinch, just staring and staring at the pristine yolk in its sea of bubbling white.

Back in your room, harbored by your stuffed animals and rumpled sheets, is your good friend, James. Though you aren’t sure if you could call him as such anymore, considering the less-than-friendly activities you’d partaken in the night before.

How had you let yourself cave like that?

Outside, the sun is calmly rising, paying no mind to your frivolous human thoughts. It scores over the trees surrounding your apartment and lands sharp and warm on your cheeks. You ignore it as best you can, putting all the early energy you have into protecting the little sun you’re cooking.

Your attraction for James was never much of a secret, nor was his for you, but you always assumed there was nothing to be done about it. He’s one of your best friends and most coveted confidants, and losing him includes losing the other two of him, too. It was a silent agreement, you thought.

Until last night, of course, when he’d finally broken and asked to kiss you over a box of takeout.

“I really can’t stand to be alone with you and sit on opposite sides of the couch and pretend that that’s normal,” said James, one hand fisted over his knee. “I feel I’ve gone mad, a bit, trying to dance around this.”

You’d have liked to say you found that a little bit dramatic, but you felt the same way. Being with James was like walking on eggshells, sometimes. Even though you felt quite at home with him, there were still boundaries to maintain. You constantly had to double back, to reel yourself in before you said something too flirty or touched him longer than was necessary. It was exhausting and disappointing. You were tired of being disappointed.

So upon your permission, James had followed you to your room, and he hadn’t held back.

You can’t say you regret it, but you’re certainly worrying. There’s reasons you had boundaries in place, reasons that both you and James resisted the magnetism that pulls you together, and they’re all in the wind now.

If you lost James, lost your friendship…

Carried away with emotions, you push at your fried egg too hard, shaking the buoyant yolk out of its membrane.

“No,” you whine, gripping the offending spatula in your hand. It’s all you can do to watch the yolk seep over the crispy whites surrounding it, spilling onto the hot pan with a sizzle.

“What’s a’matter?”

Your eyes whip over to the kitchen entryway, finding James in a sick state of undress, a pair of boxers low on his hips and glasses crooked where they perch on his nose. Like he’d gotten up to find you before getting dressed, hardly remembering he’d need glasses to do so.

You tell yourself you’re projecting, returning your greedy gaze to the sad situation on the stove. James’ broad chest and muscled thighs creep into the back of your mind for safekeeping anyway.

He comes up behind you, peering easily over your shoulder to gauge what the problem is.

“I broke the yolk,” you tell him, as if it’s not obvious.

James grunts darkly, as if to agree that this is a very grave occurrence. Still, his voice is as comforting as it is gravelly when he responds.

“Well, flip that one and it can be mine. I don’t like sunny-side.”

Turning to glance up at him, you frown. “I thought you did?” You could swear you’ve seen him eat his eggs that way before.

Lips pursing in a shy almost-smile, James relents. “Well, yes, I do. But not strictly. I’ll eat whatever—‘specially if you make it.”

You turn your frown back to the pan, saying nothing. James takes the moment of silence to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling your back flush against his bare chest. The sleep shirt you’d thrown on feels thinner than the broken yolk membrane, letting all of James’ warmth strike you right in the heart. It’s almost too much for you to handle.

Correction, it is too much for you to handle.

Reaching down, you peel James’ hands off of your torso, wincing the whole way through. He backs off, easily taking the hint, but when you glance his way he looks befuddled.

“Um.” James averts his gaze to the floor, clearly knocked down by your rejection. “Have I misread something?”

“No, I’m sorry, I—“

You sigh, realizing this discussion needs more attention than you currently have to spare. In quick movements, you flick the stove burner off and move the pan to one that’s not hot, and then you turn your full effect on James.

Standing in front of you, undressed and muscled and reproachful, James looks embarrassed beyond measure.

“It’s nothing you did, James, I just—I’m not sure last night should’ve happened, is all.”

Picking at your lips worriedly, you await his response, but it’s nothing like you expect. You thought he’d turn sly or charming, convince you that it was worthwhile. James’ eyes blow wide and concerned instead.

“You didn’t want to?” The dread in his voice is thick, knocking you back with the sheer force of it. You almost reach out to comfort him, but think better of it.

“James, of course I did, yes. I wanted to.”

James’ broad shoulders relax from their anxious hunch, but his guarded posture still remains.

“What, then? You didn’t enjoy it?”

You huff. “No, James. Will you stop putting words into my mouth? Of course I enjoyed it, it was—“

You pause, trying to describe exactly how it was, but then shake the entire thought off, realizing you’re getting sidelined. James looks hesitantly amused at your clear flush, the short reminiscing enough to fluster you.

“It doesn’t matter,” you assert. “We can’t do it again.”

“We can’t?” James asks, but it sounds more like a challenge.

“No, we can’t. It’d be irresponsible. There’s a reason we held off on this, and you know it.”

“I know why I held off,” says James, and he’s stepping closer, to your dismay. “Why did you, sweetness?”

Your heart lodges in your throat, set off by his name calling and proximity. Bum pressing back against the counter, you suspect the only way to ward James off now is with a long, pointy stick, threateningly waved back and forth.

“Because,” you start, mouth dry, “it would ruin our friendship.”

A laugh booms forth from James’ throat, making you dizzy. You can’t help but watch his chest shake with it, his boxer elastic slipping ever-so-slightly lower, revealing more coarse hair and golden skin.

“Well,” James says, calling your attention back to his face, “I should hope so. I don’t want to be your friend, love. I thought I made that clear last night.”

You open your mouth and then shut it again. This time, you don’t redirect your thoughts as they amble back to the way James touched you last night, to the overwhelming sensation of finally having him, of being had.

James’ hands find purchase on the counter behind you, caging you between his arms, and you’re sure he knows exactly where your mind’s gone.

“Is that what you want, hm?” he asks, voice rasping with pure desire. “To be friends?”

You swallow. James’ heady scent is spilling over you in waves, which you typically have no trouble with, but you're not prepared for your smells to waft off of him, too. One night in your bed and he’s covered in you, head to toe. You can’t deny how much you enjoy the thought.

He’s so fit. It’s all you can think about with his tanned chest in front of your face, his big arms skimming yours. You know James likes the gym, but you never expected him to look like this.

Now that you’ve touched him, it’s like a dam broke inside you for good. It’s all too easy to reach for him, brushing light fingertips over his soft stomach and his v-line, the happy trail that’s bewitched you.

Finally, your hands push up, up, up his chest, over his pecs and shoulders until you’re looking into his expectant gaze. Had he said something?

“No,” you mumble, voice distracted. “No, I don’t want to be friends.” An incredulous laugh escapes you. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” James repeats, grinning like a child with candy.

You run your hands down his front again, intoxicated with the feel of him under your fingers.

“I guess I’m just a little worried about how this will change things,” you tell him, anchoring yourself to his waist. Pulling him closer.

“It doesn’t have to change anything, if we don’t want it to.”

That makes you smile a bit, his talking about the two of you like a pair, a unit. Still, it’s misguided.

“That’s a bit naive, don’t you think? I mean, something’s changed.” You make a point to emphasize the state you’re both in, the proximity.

James grins wickedly. “Well, that’s the good stuff, love. I only meant we don’t have to tell Remus or Sirius, at least until we’re ready. We don’t even have to go on dates, if you don’t want. We can just be like really, really good friends.”

This simultaneously makes you want to laugh and cry. Your expression settles on what is probably pensive, or indistinguishable.

“I’d want to go on dates…,” you mumble, suddenly feeling very bashful.

James’ whole demeanor seems to flip on its head. Before, he was feigning casualty, like he’d be down for anything. Now he’s all business, locked in on you.

“Yeah?” James asks, his voice unbearably tender. His hands abandon the counter for your hips, kneading the soft skin hidden under your sleep shirt.

“Yeah,” you confirm, breathless. “James, I want this to be more than sex.”

Brows furrowing, James levels you with a curious look.

“Is that what this is about? You think I only want to shag you?”

Embarrassed, you start to shrink away from his examining eyes, only to remember he has you cornered. You settle for the alternative and shove your face into the crook of his neck, groaning.

“Don’t tease me about this, James. Not this.”

“Not teasing, lovely, no. I only want to understand.” James' hand takes up in your hair, spinning it around his fingers and releasing it again and again. His voice is a calm wash now, quiet and raspy. “Is that what had you so worried?”

Reluctantly, you nod as best you can without braining yourself on his jaw or yanking your hair in his grip. James clicks his tongue.

“Can I have a look at you?”

His hand encourages your head back carefully, until his hazel eyes have yours pinned under them, like moths under a kitchen glass. Your face fits between his palms, hot-cheeked and sensitive, hoping he’ll say something to make you feel like less of a fool.

“D’you know why I didn’t try to do this before?” James doesn’t let you answer, bulldozing right through with a nervous sort of energy. “It’s ‘cause I knew I didn’t deserve you. I mean—what?”

You can’t stop your laugh. You’re doubled over into James’ shoulder again, laughing like a prick while he’s trying to be vulnerable with you, but honestly, could you blame yourself?

“What are you talking about, ‘not deserving’ me? You’re so bizarre.” You pull back from him, rosy and amused. Despite being made fun of, James seems to be in light spirits, smiling along with you.

“What’s so bizarre about it? You’re gorgeous and funny and good for me and I don’t deserve it.” He shrugs. “Anyone with eyes can see that.”

“I’m good for you, am I?” you repeat oddly, feeling admittedly tingly and giddy from his admission.

“Well, yeah, love. You make me happy.” James’ voice drops a decibel, dangerously sweet and whispered close to your lips. “Even when you’re laughing at me while I tear my chest apart to make you feel better.”

That only makes you laugh again, and this time James presses his smiling mouth over yours.

You soak in his kiss, coaxing his bed-warm body as close to yours as possible until you’re two sides of the same coin. James pushes his hands further up the back of your shirt, relishing in the expanse of bare skin there, and you take his bottom lip between your teeth in response.

Heaving a sound between a laugh and a moan, James takes his bitten mouth down your throat, laving over marks he’d left mere hours before.

You tilt your head, happy to give him more access, only to find your sorry abandoned egg where you’d left it.

“Oh, we forgot about breakfast,” you stress, reaching for the stove with no real purpose. James catches your hand to bring back to your scene together.

“Forget about it,” he mumbles into your skin, “I’ll cook you som’thin later. Right now I want you back in bed.”

You hum, easily agreeing, though you can’t help your other needs, even as James hikes your legs up and around his waist.

“A sunny side egg, please? With jam on toast?”

Laughing into your mouth, James walks you both out of the kitchen blindly.

“Yeah, pretty girl, whatever you want.”

He aims for another kiss, hot and barreling fast around the corner into carnal, but you pull back one more time before he can get carried away.

“And James?”

“Yeah?”

You can’t believe how handsome and strong he is, or that his strength and good looks are quickly becoming yours to enjoy. Splaying a wide hand over his cheek, you make sure he catches the full weight of your next statement, sweetly murmured into his reddened lips.

“You make me happy, too.”

James’ responding smile outshines the rising sun.

+

thank you for reading! xx

masterlist

[crying-fantasies]

Monsterfucking

Masterlist

Featuring Merformers! Rodimus Prime, smut/fluff/humor, CW: you fuck the fish, that's it, Roddy doesn't know about kissing, licking (sexy and lovingly), handjob, penetration, mention of a knot, barrier language, nesting, light gore (in a fight), mention of Rodimus’ creators, mer pups/cubs (I love these fictional babies so much), long fic.

Days in Cybertron tend to be regulated in cycles, the days are longer than average back on Earth, and it has been years but you still get problems waking up at the start of the day cycle, a new day to work, and a new day to try and not mess all up as a snake-like tail gets clingy, not letting go of your leg and purring when his claws get a hold of your torso again, hardly letting you hold on the data pad and give your boss a message of your more than sure tardiness just to get a thumbs up from her, almost hearing her say “work hard!”

Anything to help an endangered species.

Rodimus tends to be quite the hyper-energy kind of person, well, fish, he stands up more than the rest of the marine wildlife on this planet, and that's saying a lot given the unique metallic nature displayed, it’s a miracle that whatever kind of liquid filling most of the planet's oceans isn't cooking your meat out of your bones; Rodimus stands up, a lot, you've seen the others around, most are friendly, more inclined to curiosity when they touch your legs or look at you from some reef like structures, believing those as the better spot to hide but forgetting to low the light in their optics, first time it happened you were in for a shock as the rest of the team laughed at your spooked reaction to more than 20 pairs of optics shining bright under the liquid, all with overflowing attention to the new organic putting feet on the floating laboratory.

Rodimus would always be more noticeable to you, as he was the first pair of blue optics reaching out to you the same day your work put you there, so far away from your real home, all to preserve the mechanical nature of this planet and it's creatures, Rodimus escaped from his group, servos trying to catch onto his fins, all for nothing as the mech came up to a side of the lab where your official in charge was giving you the tour of the facility.

With shiny red-colored scales and flimsy paper-like metallic membranes, he was just like in the books, something from far away yet seemed organic, it was something so intricate no one could ever think of, the pads in his digits patted your right foot, feeling the texture of skin and thin body hair before giving a high pitched trill when he launched himself back to the liquid.

One of the scientists laughed, “Rodimus likes you”, almost catching on to his designation he emerged back, just to be dragged under by the rest of his group in a hissing feat, especially by a very mad hunter mech.

Mechs they call them, as in mechanical individuals, some skip over formalities and call them mers because the mers call themselves that way; and no, it’s not a joke as you see Chief Medical Darcy act as a referee when Optimus and Megatron are about to rip the fins of one another again as the doctor only sips on his instant chemical coffee, watching them both quarrel like an old couple, using sounds on a piano-like artifact to tell them to, in the mers own language, “frag off already, Optimus, you left him” while pointing at the blue mer, then to the almost smiling big-like ancient shark, playing his piano like a pro, moving pieces and volumes to say: "Megs, you shouldn't have acted like that, you started it”.

They are ancient, going way back to when Earth was still galactic powder, sentient in every way, they have language, culture, arts, and everything in between, the planet was under colonization until someone noticed the fishes could communicate, it all burned down from it, now considered a protected system the priority was to increase their number, as they could tell tales from bygone times, cures and methods never told before; the mer called Alpha Trion knew of a treatment for decayed fins, which somehow also worked on humans, it was incorporated to treat many skin diseases back on Earth, and the pros of keeping them alive overwhelmed the ones trying to sell them in pieces like it was done at first.

Rodimus is part of the reproduction program, more like one of the offspring resulting from it, but you've seen the program, it looks more like a dating event to this point, and then a nursery program, once the mers get good results, keeping the babies is high maintenance even for the most experienced ones, Cory tells you so once he catches on Rodimus going to you more times than ordinary, cuddling your side like an over-affective cat while purring, “he was just a small baby when I handled him, seems like it was yesterday”, he has a very worn-off expression, and the bags under his eyes tell you of unending nights while he has a new baby in his arms, you see a few mers in the pool connected to the nursery, passed out on the floor in uncomfortable positions over beds of wire-like kelp, some with their young sleeping like angels over them, and Rodimus, who is now shining and swimming in circles for some reason around you two as you also hold a baby, is very focused in how the little guppy holds the neck of your t-shirt, even using one of the sleepy carriers as some platform to show off his pretty red and orange scales, “never expected to live enough to see the day he would dance for a human”, you take a moment to think over it, process it, Rodimus has little time to do something when one moment you're standing there and the next you're running like you heard Megatron is coming with a bad temper.

Rodimus hasn't seen you since that day and makes it everyone else's problem while wailing on the shore closest to your room, and you, so shocked you almost dropped the baby back into the water, only hide in the sudden realization that an alien, mechanic, sentient fish wants to have something with you.

It was too much for a Saturday night, excusing yourself and leaving the baby with Cory who shouted something along the lines of it being normal, “Have you seen this fellow here?” he pointed at the red and silver mer in the pool, a new sire taking a rest while his babies were being rocked back and forth by you just a few seconds ago, the silver and white baby, now in Cory’s arms next to his red and white sibling, “have you meet Miss Astoria yet? The co-owner of this preservation program? These are her boys”

How can it be normal? How did it even happen between two different species on two different planets? How come the babies don't even look human? How?

And why is he trying so hard to find you? There is hardly time to even eat next to the shore before he appears once again, at least his blue optics peaking over the liquid before he goes back down, leaving you in a moment of solitude, raising your hopes, that maybe he finally settled for a partner of his species, but no, Rodimus only went back to the ocean and took out some kind of alien mechanical fish, still moving and trying to return from where it came, only to be gutted right there and then in front of you, Rodimus looks at you, expectantly, how can his optics shine so much?

“You know what? Fuck it”

Next thing everyone knows you're sunbathing in your free time on the beach, Rodimus making a donut-shaped nest at your side with his body, thrilling happily while doing so before you are called back, making him look at you, then at the nest, and back at you, big optics pleading and almost whimpering, “what is-? No, no! It's not that I don't like it! You shouldn't even be doing that here!”

Mers hardly do nests everywhere, as it is only recommended to do it near calm waters, safe to raise their young, close to the waters to ensure the moisture of the nest, with enough light to keep the iron sand warm and cozy for the growing protoforms.

Rodimus makes them where he likes or where you stay for a time long enough for him to get back at his job.

Cory tells you that's normal, since you said yes to Rodimus is normal for any newly paired couple to create their own nest, and also the fact that Rodimus is a recently matured young adult makes him more eager over the idea.

Maybe not exactly at the prospect of having a baby, more like the idea of banging.

Rodimus makes a lot of nests around the iron sand, he has one outside your shared habsuit, another out of your side of the laboratory, one in the sunbathing grounds like the other mers, but not one in the nesting grounds or the nursery, being extremely on edge if an unpaired mer looks at you or his nests, Rodimus is snarling at them when he notices, fins flaring with violent intent and only stopping when the other mer is at a distance he considered respectful before going to you as if he was the victim and not the curious young mech, chattering inconsolable until you let him snuggle in your lap, holding to you and whistling happily.

Mers, while being highly intelligent and sentient still go by their traditions, quite animalistic traditions as they fight over themselves to get a partner, and catch the attention of another; a group is wrestling in the iron sand in one of the little islands while you sunbathe with Rodimus, cleaning his fins of parasites or dead scales, taking samples while at it before a road and a snarl catches on your attention, jumping on your spot over the sand and looking at the island, two mers soon to kill each other while some others look, expectantly, waiting for the winner, the mers waiting to make a display and show their scales, show their array once the loser is bleeding energon in the sand and the winner takes the prize, you feel bad for the med, dragging his massive metal body back to the ocean, maybe soon to arrive at the medic area for medical aid, Rodimus calls your attention back at him, his servos holding your hands and pressing them back at his chest which rumbles, then holding onto your face to look him directly at his optics once you notice the healed scars under his scales or the growing pity on the injured mer just meters away.

Doesn't take much to know why he is always so clingy, or the reason for him to have so many scars when you look at his multiple medical reports, all gained after several mating seasons, losing every single one, being dragged back by Cory to patch him up even in a fainted state.

You look at him now, different, both resting in the bed inside your habsuit, still too early in the morning, Rodimus is curled next to you, his arms holding you, tail heavy over your legs, tangled within your legs, a remarkable subject that pointed out what he was and what you are, impossible to miss, still, you know about it now.

Nesting season is still a long way to come but the mating one is ever present once the fights for lovers have ended, Rodimus seems to not be moved by it, or he tries to appear as much as he grooms you with his hands and his glossa, it is more like an affectionate display but it still far from any sex, still, while he tries to rule over your hair with his oral solvents you catch on the puffy look his slit shows; most paired mates had long since gone to more private zones to let their needs and urges free, you are with the rest of the team as everyone gives their farewell to the newly paired young mechs, hoping for the best in the nesting season.

He tries to deny it, trying to keep up with the older mers who choose not to join the younger ones and the ones without pairs, all just doing their usual routines, Rodimus comes back much earlier than usual and becomes more anxious, just yesterday you finally noticed the reason why he didn't like to enter the nursery lagoon, using the piano-like artifact, asking him if he didn't like to come near the nursery even when you or Cory, his partner and his sire, were inside, his answer was simple “you don't like pups”.

Take a moment to let that sink and the misunderstanding born from the moment you realized his intent in courting you, Rodimus was, in reality, giving you much praise while snuggling next to you, presenting how nice you were with the young pup in your arms in front of his sire, happy by the way you two seemed to be getting along and then thinking in how happy his carrier was going to be when he came back with the hunting group, but his sire said something, making you jump and run, leaving the pup behind with his sire.

Rodimus believed you didn't like babies.

Which, in truth, wasn't exactly like that or different, “it may be impossible”, your words translated with the machine made his optics go big, soon pointing at himself, “Well, hard to happen”, Rodimus looked at you with barely closed optics, a little mad and hurt, “how can we be prepared? Or in any case, why now?” of course, it had to be soon, as the days progressed, and as every grooming session got heavier, sometimes you would nap while Rodimus cleaned you, soon feeling the way his servos were touching, massaging, his glossa looming over your neck, denta nipping at the skin.

He has been so strong so far, but it only takes a movement of your leg to make his tail recoil over it, rubbing his dilated slit over your hip, moaning during his recharge, optics opening just slightly when your fingers started to move along the opening, he squeaked, then rumbled out a groan, hissing while letting his slit open, you've seen the books, but it never said anything of it being soft, like rubber, Rodimus moves his hips, his massive tail pumping against your fingers as his arms go to your neck, anchoring himself to you while crying out in ecstasy, your fingers push a little more and you find a protrusion, pushing your fingers out for a moment to show his spike, letting you touch him more, lavish him more, his servos were frantically holding to the meat in your ass, trying to make you move against his spike in a rutted haze, barely giving your time or space to get the pajama pants off, “Okay, if only we could- could you keep it down?”, your laugh is nervous as he seems to be ripped apart on putting you over or under him, groping where he can while doing so, being careful to not catch your skin or hair with his frantic moving seams, finally deciding to put you down in the mattress, rocking his spike in between your open legs, knowing well the differences, but also the coincidences, between your bodies.

Where the slit of his tail was is also the point in which your legs connected.

“Come here”, your instructions are hard to follow as he is overthinking, full of joy while nipping at your neck, eager to couple but too excited to put it in, the little fighting you both do, one to put his spike inside of you and the other showering you with affection, finally ends when your hand catches on the pointy head of his spike, pumping at it while dragging him over, making him curl a little to be able and still be face to face plate.

Of course, you should've expected the unfamiliar sensation, impossible to compare to anything you've ever had, there was desperation in it, and his movements were too fast, too eager, still, Rodimus kept showing what you liked about him, smiling like a dork and holding to you, letting your legs brace to his tail, said tail rocking fast against you like he was swimming, putting your arms around his helm as he snuggled against your chest and neck, leaving bite marks just to show off, never to give you real damage, moving just enough, in that specific part to make you see starts with your breathless indications, easing your worry with forehead nudges that you changed for kisses, taking him for a surprise before he just let you continue, imitating you, when you felt his spike grow, inflaming, he was sure to make you come at least once before he started to pump faster, wilder, until the base was all in, pushing to a point never had before, looking at you with barely open optics as he started to coo and chatter, you didn't know what he was saying without aid, but Rodimus was singing you praises once again, “I love you, we are mates, mates for life, you're mine, I’m yours”, every short break in between his thrilled gibberish were supposed to be words, but you didn't have much to think straight as he kept on leaking into you, overflowing, keeping it all inside while relishing over your limp body as he still moved to let you get all of him, cleaning you once again to let you rest.

Once you slept well, he was back from wherever he went, coming back with food for the day for you both, once you ended your rations he would give you one of those glances, holding one of your legs, smoothly putting it over the beginning of his tail as you let him, seating you over his already wet and dilated slit.

Mating season wasn't a long period, but it was a delightful one, soon comprehended why so many people on base were missing for all of its duration, now being part of them and even learning why some told you to keep your clothes off most of the time except for a night coat easy to open, Rodimus was a good lover, as he barely left your side, and if he did, it was only to get rations from the cafeteria before leaving them to you and expanding the nest he was making outside your habsuit, using his body, curling it over the sand to make it compact at the base, then making a hole in the middle to keep water inside while you rested inside, not worrying about you leaving to do your science as he was sure the other humans just let you rest.

Months later, Cory found Chandler hissing at the ocean, just to stop, startled, like him at the sight of Rodimus, soon making direct eye contact with them, holding a still closed-eyed little black and silver hissing pup between his servos, presenting his own young and beaming with pride as they both heard you screaming Rodimus’ designation with two more pups in your arms from your habsuit, more than likely enraged and worried out of your mind by the lack of your firstborn in the nest where you left him with his siblings, then being startled by the potent cry of the pup that could only be comparable to a dying animal asking for mercy as he was soaked, cold and scared out of his young mind by the emotion of Rodimus’ to show off his offspring, and this was the fourth stop he made so far.

Rodimus’ carrier, Chandler, didn't give his own pup time to ponder what made you so mad before he was trying to knock some sense with violence into his adult pup like he was still a youngling after snatching protectively the pup against his chest to try and comfort him, Cory runs to them to try and save his son from the fury of his partner and his heavy servo, you appeared with your other two babies to see Rodimus being smacked by his carrier without mercy, “Have I not taught you well?! What in the PIT were you THINKING?! What are you DOING with a NEW FORGED PUP OUT OF THE SLAGING NEST?!”

Rodimus was a great lover, he was still learning to be a sire.

.

Inspired by the work of @tinydefector and @shyspider, love your guys’ work so much, totally lost Mermay but I can try it again with some good monsterfucking.

And if you realized, yeah, that hissing baby is Sunset.

@tf-kinktober2024

[nikibogwater]

Life-Saving Minecraft Tips that I almost never see anyone else using (am I just bad at the game...?)

Always carry a bucket of water in your hotbar, especially if you're going caving.

Keep a Warped Fungus handy when traversing the Nether. Hoglins can't attack you if you're standing near a Warped Fungus. I also like to keep a Flower Pot on me just in case I run into a pack of Hoglins somewhere I can't place the fungus directly on the ground.

Use potions. Idk if it's just the kinds of lets-players I watch or what, but I can't believe how many people are sleeping on these.

Night Vision for the Deep Dark (Nether Wart + Golden Carrot). Keeps you from waking up the Warden with a single careless torch placement, and also negates the Darkness effect if you activate a Shrieker.

Invisibility Potions for death runs back to your items (Night Vision Potion + Fermented Spider Eye)

Slow Falling for the Ender Dragon fight (Nether Wart + Phantom Membrane)

Fire Resistance negates like 85% of the danger in the Nether (Nether Wart + Magma Cream)

Adding some Redstone Dust to any potion will increase the duration of its effects to 8 minutes. Three max-duration potions will keep you covered for a little more than one full day-night cycle.

Wool blocks are soundproof (but carpets aren't 😕). Completely covering a Skulk Sensor or Chest with wool blocks before interacting with it will prevent chain reactions from other Sensors.

Set up a safe base with a bed at world spawn (usually around coordinates 0, 0) so that you don't have to sprint buck naked through the night if you lose your respawn point.

I actually like to put my main base near world spawn because I easily get disoriented when trying to navigate by coordinates alone, and it's much simpler for me to just follow a Compass back home (I think that's an exclusive-to-Niki problem tho. I've never heard of anyone else wanting to do this 😅).

This is only tangentially related, but I can remember a time when Zombies dropped Feathers instead of Rotten Flesh. You'd think I wouldn't die so often, having played this game for almost 13 years...

[utterlyotterlyx]

Darkest Hour

For the ones who dream of being the only choice x

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - Even if hating him is the answer to your problems, your Shadowsinger will always love you.

Warnings - mentions of torture, wing loss, angst, self hatred, depression, heart breaking fluff

The chill of the Night Court breeze drifted across your face, swirls of it scuttering across you bare, scarred back, soothing that roaring hot ache that rippled through your shoulderblades.

It was strange, to feel everything but nothing at all.

Chapped lips and a raw throat encased your rage, the rage that made you shake, the rage that made you tremble and turn cold and sour.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.

Your wings. Your beautiful midnight blue wings with trunks of black membrane had been carved from your body, the last test to see if you'd break, to see if you'd give in to Beron's demands of information about Nyx, about Feyre, about the Made Archeron sisters. You gave them nothing, but it had cost you too much.

Only Rhys knew what had happened to you in that chamber after diving into your unconscious mind, even then the flashes of memory were too sickening to share, to the point that even he had gone pale, had gone so far to empty the contents of his stomach in the nearest empty vase.

He adored you. They all did. A little sister of the Inner Circle, so pure and full of light, a never-ending smile, a kindness no one would dare to taint. You were like a breath of balanced air, full of life and teeming with outspoken serenity. You were the safe place, the shoulder to cry on, the daybreak at the end of the storm.

Now, now you were nothing but an empty vessel.

It broke them to see you so pale, so lifeless, staring out of the window with bleak colourless eyes whilst you lay on you front to avoid irritating the still healing scars on your back. They shouldn't have sent you, they shouldn't let you go alone. They knew that Beron thought you were a monstrosity, they knew it and they let you walk into the Autumn Court unaccompanied regardless of their knowledge.

They had failed you.

Words hadn't left your lips. No food had been eaten, even those cakes you loved so much from the bakery went stale on your bedside table. All you did was stare out of that slightly ajar window, whimpering softly when someone tried to close it to keep any form of warmth within you.

Azriel was beside himself. Mirroring you, he hadn't eaten, he didn't sleep; all he did was drown himself in the deserved self loathing that came with the guilt of not being able to find you sooner, to save you from what you were feeling. Large bags of purple and onyx clung to the sunken skin beneath his eyes, he wasn't sure if you felt his presence in the room with you, but all he could do was watch as you slowly stretched your fingertips toward the window with a flash of longing in your eyes.

Then the monster within you had prowled out of its cage, and you turned cold and distant, only allowing Mor and Mor alone to tend to you, but even then you said little if anything at all and barely left the ice cold confinements of your room.

Everything hurt.

Breathing hurt. Moving hurt. Thinking hurt.

You didn't want to do it anymore.

Then, you broke.

The floor was freezing beneath your feet as you placed them onto the wood for what felt like the first time in months, you shakily stood, using one of the pillars of your bed to help you. It was so dark in there bar the slits of moonlight that kissed the ground at your feet, the stars shone brighter as you shuffled along the ground, you loose nightgown swaying with every step.

You had lost weight, you'd felt it drop from your body, and that wasn't just the weight of your former wings. It was you, slowly decaying before your own eyes with no willingness to stop it.

Warmth whooshed into the room once you opened the door, warm light pouring in from the hallway, and the sound of faint laughter drifted up the stairs. Silently, you moved further toward it, not making a single sound as you descended the winding staircase, halting a few steps from the bottom and watching their warm smiles and gentle laugher pool at the centre of their collective consciousness.

They looked happy. Happy.

Azriel felt you first, his head snapping to the right so abruptly that everyone else's followed. The room turned cold and you shuddered and the sudden change, and Azriel wanted nothing more than to go to you. Pale skin and lips greeted them, black-grey veins of exhaustion tugged at your eyes and cheeks, your chest struggled to heave in a breath, and you looked at them with such despair, such hatred, that he had to bite down on his bottom lip to stop it from wobbling.

You huffed out an incredulous breath, almost a scoff, "Enjoying yourselves?"

Rhys tentatively rose to his feet, sensing the conflicting emotions within you, sensing the kettle boiling over into searing hot anger, "Y/N," you saw his flattened hand in the air, he used it when he wanted to calm down a hostile situation, he was using it on you.

"Don't say that name," you had snarled, "I stopped being her the moment I lost them," you felt unworthy, you felt ashamed, "I protected you," your eyes darted to Rhys, then to Feyre, to Nesta and Elain, "I didn't give them a single thing and I'm the one who lost everything. For you. I wish I had given one of you over to him, I wish that I didn't have to give the only thing I had to protect people who wouldn't protect me," you were panting, you hands reaching over your shoulder and ghosting at the tips of the gruesome crescent shaped scars embedded into your shoulders.

A gentle tug pulled your attention away from them, they had all risen to their feet, looking at you with alarm and eyes laced with pity, and guilt. So much guilt. You attention shifted to your feet, to the little winged child that stood there, his bright eyes staring up at you with a tsunami of love, his tiny hand grabbing for you, and you indulged him, letting him take your finger in his hand and send warmth flowing up your arm.

Azriel swore he could see some of the colour return to your skin.

Azriel watched as that one touch broke you, you screwed your eyes shut and tears escaped from them, flowing down your cheeks as sobs stung at your chest, he wasn't sure if you could handle the pressure of them.

The night you were due to return was the supposed to be the night that Azriel told you that he was your mate, after 400 years of loving you and 60 years after the bond had snapped for him. He'd been so nervous to the point he'd enlisted Cassian and Elain to help him plan some elaborate evening for you. A hot bath with the lavender soak you loved so much, brand new books he had convinced the author to release early for you, your favourite chocolates, a bottle of your favourite wine, and a letter from him confessing his love for you. He knew how much you cherished letters. You'd kept every letter from all of them in the 400 years they had known you and loved you, they lay sleeping in boxes under your bed.

It hadn't snapped for you yet but you had unleashed all of your pain down the bond, not even searching for him, but feeling too much of the all-consuming pain that your soul was screaming for a moment of light. Just a minute of something else other than pain.

It nearly suffocated him.

Nesta moved to you, almost knocking her chair over in the process and wrapped her arms around you, shielding you by pushing your head into the crook of her neck. She ran her fingers through your limp hair, finding more knots than perfect glossy strands and felt herself breaking at how thin you had become.

"It's okay to be angry, Y/N. It's okay to hate us. It's okay," she whispered to you, turning her head to the side and pleading to Azriel to come to you.

He did without a moments hesitation.

Nesta passed you into his awaiting arms, night kissed mountains and cedar engulfed you, and you felt yourself relaxing into him as he rubbed soft circles into your back, relieving some of that aching tension that had become unbearable, "Hate me as much as you need to, I can take it. I can take all of your anger and darkness, let me take it."

"I'm so tired," you loosely wrapped your arms around him and sobbed, Azriel knew how exhausted you were, he could feel it in your trembling bones how close you were to passing out from the feeling.

"Okay," he moved to scoop you up into his arms, holding you so gently like he was afraid you'd snap in two in his hands, "That's something we can fix. One day at a time. We can do this."

Since that night, you felt lighter.

Months had passed, and thanks to Rhys and Cassian, you found your strength again. Thanks to Nesta, you found joy again. Thanks to Feyre and Nyx, you found passion again. Thanks to Mor and Elain, you'd gotten that innocent wonder back.

And Azriel, you had him to thank for it all.

He had been so gentle with you, coaxing you into physical therapy with promises of warm baths and healing creams, and making sure you ate and drank and found reasons to be happy again. The first laugh from your lips almost made him faint, it was accompanied by that sparkle in your eyes that he had missed too much.

Colour had returned to your skin, your hair had returned to its glossy hue, your smile was wide and bright, and even without your wings that he knew you missed, you were by far the most beautifully resilient creature he had ever seen.

You had closed the bedroom window, allowing him to light a fire and settle into his embrace whilst you both read your books. He had given you the one he was supposed gift to you and could have swooned at the smile you gave him.

"What do you think about mates?" It startled him, it made his heart physically halt in his chest and he moved his chin from the top of your head to look down at you. "Do you believe that there is a perfect half of your soul out there?"

"I do. I know it actually," he told you and you craned your neck upward to look at him properly, flushed cheeks and all.

"Yeah," you eyes twinkled, "How?"

"Because I know who it is I hope to see every morning for the rest of my life."

Your smile faltered, "Do I know her?" You shuffled onto your side, your book forgotten on the floor and arm tucked beneath your head.

Azriel mirrored you, settling into the space beside you, "Very well actually. She is bold and beautiful. Her laugh is the symphony of my dreams and memories. Her being herself is always going to be enough for me. It was inevitable really, to fall for her, it was beyond the scope of my control, the first time I saw her I just knew that she was the person my heart had been craving my entire life. She makes me laugh when all I want to do is hide away from the world. She makes it so easy to see the beauty in everything."

"She sounds perfect, Az," he noticed your sad eyes and the way you had curled up into yourself, but still holding on to every single word he said.

"And even when she lost everything, in a way I think it made me love her more, because even in the darkest hour of her life, she still managed to pull herself out of it, to feel and shine again," he turned to you, your brows furrowed and a small gasp floating from you, "I am completely, utterly, totally, in love with you, Y/N. You are the one my soul sings for," his shadows moved to you, curling around your face and torso, the inky tendrils kissing your exposed skin, "And I promise to love you no matter what life throws at us."

Tears pooled at your eyes and he grasped for you, rolling you onto you back so that his face was hovering above your own.

It happened then, that fairy tale snap you had never thought you'd own, the one you'd never thought you deserved. A split soul merging into one, singing in golden light as tendrils of thread sewed your hearts together, "I was so horrible to you."

Azriel shushed you, "I have loved you for 400 years, Y/N. You have been my light for so long, even when I didn't want one, you were there to pull me out," you cupped his face in your hands, "You have no idea how many lives you have impacted by just existing, I can't imagine a moment without you. I'll never tire of hearing what's going on in that strange little mind of yours. To put it in simple terms, there's not one part of you that I don't want, not a single part of you that I don't adore."

Tears fell from your eyes and he wiped them away, his body entangled with yours, "I don't know what to say."

"Just tell me that you love me. Tell me you're mine," Azriel pleaded, his hazel eyes glistening with a love you'd never seen before, not even between Feyre and Rhys, your soul pulsated with that freshly bound power and you sighed, pulling him closer to you.

Pressing your forehead to his you muttered the words, "I love you Azriel, and I am yours forever, in my darkest of hours and most beautiful of days. I love you."

brb sobbing x

[ramservices1]

Repair with Confidence: Exploring the Different Types of RO Water Purifier Repairs

If you are looking for a RO water purifier repair, then you must know what kind of repair your unit requires. The most common repairs for RO units are associated with issues in the RO membrane. There are two types of RO membrane: polypropylene (PP) and mixed-bed ion exchange (MIX). The type of membrane will determine the type of repair needed. For more information on RO repair services, you can always contact our team at Ram Services and Sales, and we will be available to resolve your repair concerns. For general information on RO repair services, continue reading this blog.

The most common repairs for RO units are associated with issues in the RO membrane.

The most common repairs for RO units are associated with issues in the RO membrane. This is because it’s a crucial part of the system, separating clean water from dirty water. The membrane is made from a special material that allows only pure water to pass through it, while filtering out impurities like bacteria and other harmful contaminants.

If your unit starts leaking or becomes damaged in any way, this could mean that there’s something wrong with its membrane–and if you don’t repair it right away, you might end up spending more money on repairs later on down the line!

A leaking membrane

A leaking membrane is one of the most common repairs for an RO water purifier. A leaking membrane can cause your unit to leak, or it may simply make the unit work less efficiently.

When you purchase an RO system, the most important part of its lifespan is going to be how well you take care of your membranes. Membranes are made from thin plastic and can become damaged if they are mishandled or dropped while being installed or transported. If this happens, there’s a chance that water will leak out of your unit and into whatever container it was in at the time (or even onto your countertop).

Fortunately, fixing this problem isn’t too difficult! Membranes are replaceable parts that can easily be swapped out once they’ve been damaged beyond repair by improper handling–and they’re not expensive either!

Water pressure of your unit and its water flow rate

Water pressure and flow rate are two key factors in determining how well your RO unit is working. The water pressure refers to the force that pushes water through the membrane, while flow rate refers to how much of it passes through in a given period of time. If you notice that your water doesn’t taste as crisp as usual, it’s likely due to low water pressure–and even worse if there’s no change at all when you increase or decrease levels in your home’s faucets!

If this sounds familiar, don’t worry: we’ve got some tips on how best to troubleshoot RO purifier issues yourself before calling out an expert technician (and getting charged extra fees).

Read More: https://ramservicesandsales.com/2023/05/19/repair-with-confidence-exploring-the-different-types-of-ro-water-purifier-repairs/

[minced-mangoes]

I am in love with the concept of the demons in the devildom having to shed their horns, as well as possible shedding of fur, feathers, scales, or skin. With this we have to assume the demon's horns align closer to antlers than actual horns, since horns don't shed, but antlers do. Either way these are magical creatures so fuck logic. I can do what I want. Maybe they don't actually fall off, but instead shed a layer of keratin, keeping the horns shiny, strong, and unmarred. For some demons this shedding is easier, like for Lucifer and Diavolo's horns. However, with demons like Mammon and Barbatos, the details on the horn make it much harder to come off, often needing assistance.

The shed keratin from demon's horns can be used for other things, typically the creation of beauty products, and demons can get good grimm for handing in shed horn layers. I also think Satan will have to do this with his tail.

Now, the feathered demons tend to have the problem of occasional molting, and losing feathers. I'd also imagine they'd have to spend a lot of time preening and plucking their wings. Lucifer might need your help pulling a blood feather or two. Help him, please. Fur. I'm mostly thinking Belphie here. He sheds. Everywhere. Usually Beel helps by brushing out his fur, but you can definitely assist as well, it's lot of fur and four hands are better than two. Scales, this is for Levi. Please help him shed. It's not comfortable and he can't pay attention to his games if his scales have a layer peeling off. Dunk him in water, get him some nice rocks to rub up against, and peel off anything that gets really stuck. He'll be smooth, shiny, and happy afterwards.

And for the demons with wings that aren't feathered? I assume they'd need to be cared for as well. The thin wing membrane will need moisturizing. For the bug demons? help them shed their exoskeletons. I'm thinking specifically Beel and Asmo here. Yes, I headcanon they have to shed like bugs. Beel not as much, since he's a fly, but Asmo's sin animal is a scorpion, he's gonna need to get rid of that old exoskeleton as he grows. Also he comes out so much shinier and more beautiful! You gotta help him be as gorgeous as he can be!

All and all demon forms need a lot of maintenance. But that's okay, you're there to assist. Hey, maybe this will help you bond. And when you need a little help with caring for yourself, your demons will repay your kindness. ~~~ Tomi here! I take requests via my ask box! Please PLEASE PLEASE drop ideas or just things you want me to talk about there or in my comments,,, I eat stuff like that for lunch,,,

[official-penis-posts]

Hello! I stumbled upon your blog and have just been scrolling through, and I saw one of the anons you got said docs say not to put t on your clit. That's not *fully* true. I've had two separate docs say it's a decent delivery route *if it's in cream form*. Gel is alcohol based which will very much irritate the mucous membrane of the vulva and clitoris, but cream is not! I use cream directly on my clit once daily in addition to weekly injections and I'm v v happy with how things are going bottom growth wise, and the sensation of cream on clit is slightly tingly and warm but not outright painful, it's slightly uncomfortable at absolute worst. The problem with cream is it's not readily available like gel is, you have to get it compounded and that's significantly more expensive. If you'd like, you can feel free to message me if you've got any questions and I'd be happy to answer as best as I can :) it's also chill if you don't post this or message, I just thought I'd put in my knowledge since I'm nearly a year on t with this particular route. <3

I’m happy to post this, thanks for offering to share your experience with others!

[transgenderer]

All cells with mitochondria have a nucleus, all cells with a nucleus have mitochondria (or denegerated former mitochondria). It's not obvious that this should be so. In general, you should get branching after every trait (ofc this isn't always the case). If organisms with trait A are successful then there should be enough of them to branch. If they require trait B to be successful, trait A shouldn't have reached fixation in the first place, unless they were both caused by the same genetic modification.

Nick lanes theory, in the vital question, is that the mitochondria *directly* caused the development of the nucleus. If you're an archeon with bacteria living inside you, and one of them dies, it's membrane will dissolve and release its genetic material. You're an archeon, so you're used to doing lateral gene transfer, and will copy it's code into yours. This code has a poison and it's antidote

Bacterial genetic code has self-replicating parasitic genes. these genes are adapted to their bacterial host and splice themselves out before transcription. bacteria face strong selection to pare down their genome, so they dont have very many of these. but if you suddenly acquire a huge amount of bacterial genetic code, the parasites therein, not adapted to you, will put themselves in all sorts of bad places. then, because you dont face very strong selection, if these codes mutate in a way that breaks their ability to copy themselves, and splice themselves out before transcription, youll have a bunch of faulty genes. these dead regions are called introns. this is a huge problem! you can develop a protein to splice them out "manually", called the spliceosome, but it works slowly, too slowly to get them all fixed before they reach the ribosome to be made into proteins

HOWEVER, this bacterial code will also have a bunch of genetic code for bacterial membranes. the archeon will start producing a bunch of extra membrane enzymes, which will go around producing extra membranes. without adaptations to handle these, theyll just build up. around where theyre produced. lipids naturally form into closed surfaces in solution, so you'd end up with a bunch of lipid "bags" around your genome. but those bags are the solution to your intron problem! they impede the diffusion of the rna from the genome to the ribosome, giving the spliceosome time to work.

eventually (its theorized) these lipid bags evolved into an enclosed double membrane with pore membranes, but during mitosis they split into discrete lipid bags again!

[taissaswifelowkey]

cigarettes, cigarettes.

a/n: idk why i felt like dishing this out??? and it was so random too like 💀💀 also, melissa is adorable and deserves the best of hugs people 😎‼️ proofread but there might lingering mistakes left. leave feedback if you have any, enjoy reading you already knowww, mdni

w/c: 3.4 k words

warnings: suggestive themes, mentions of a casual affair, swearing, mentions of smoking, love used as a metaphor of addiction and smoking, drinking at a party, overly dramatic writing, attempts at humour, gay yearning. melissa is in love but kind of doesn’t know how to deal with it.

second part will be written. more will be told about the reader’s background, and we’ll have a deeper insight on when they started seeing melissa. let me know if i missed anything else :)

it starts below the cut 🤠

Sitting on the rooftop, your eyes are mindlessly trained on the landscapes drowned by lamplights. A cigarette hangs between your lips and you’re starting to taste the bitter, raw nicotine from how long it has remained unlit. You wish you could bring yourself to inhale the toxins and allow the rot to travel throughout your lungs, consequently tainting your oxygen, but you’ve decided that you do too much of it already, the smell of her lingering fragrance marking your bedsheets being enough to ruin your health. It was a deranging fact considering you weren’t even a smoker. You wanted to find an alternative addiction that would slowly, softly kill you. It’s better to crawl at the hands of death rather than someone. At least that is what you think. Though you were always kind of melodramatic in that way. She’d tell you that whenever you would plead with her to stay with you after your nightly secret meetings.

Looking back at it you feel a little embarrassed. All those wasted words and wasted time. Wanting nothing more but to go back to stop yourself from breathing three words that left a taste of bile at the back of your mouth even after weeks.

Taking the cigarette away from your lips you twirl it around your fingers, the paper now nearly melted off. You don’t want to throw it away, feeling ridiculous that you spent your money on a twelve dollar pack. Lying back to rest on the cold concrete, you carefully place the cigarette on your chest in an almost cradling gesture.

The cold wind blows past your face, the skin of your neck, touching the places that were traced by her lips. Your fingers reach for them and you swear it’s like she never left.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

A voice startles you, jerking you up. Instinctively you hold the cigarette like you’ve been caught. The act itself is unintentionally amusing, making the redhead bite back a smile.

“I don’t.”

“There’s no harm in it if you were.”

She casually strides up to you. She’s so pretty. She always is but you can swear that at this moment you’d be on your knees apologising to her for something you didn’t even do. And maybe that’s the problem.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t.”

You stand up, dusting off your pants, wanting to leave. The further you stay the more your brain shifts to your first conflict. Memories of raised voices, of tears, flushed faces and accusing words quickly speed past your membrane.

“Then why is there a box peeking out of your pocket?”

“Why do you care?”

Melissa sighs, crossing her arms. She wonders if whatever you had to drink tonight warranted that behaviour. But she also knew you never really were the drinking type. This only somehow worsens things, knowing that you’re sober and somewhat justifiably annoyed.

Ava’s laugh breaks the tension brewing between you, reminding your surroundings. At Janine’s flat, a get together between colleagues.

“This is useless.”

You make a move to leave but she steps in your way. You almost want to laugh at her boldness.

“We need to talk.”

“We talked already.”

You grit, looking down at your shoes. She is being unfair. Sending you off, ignoring you for days and only talking to you when she needed to. Your friends did catch on to the shift of the atmosphere but couldn’t exactly place it. No one asked any questions either, knowing not to bother Melissa when she was having her pondering moments. It’s not like they could ask you anything either, always finding a sly excuse to get out of the conversation.

“Won’t you just cut the attitude and be serious about this for five minutes—”

“You have no right to tell me what to be serious about, Melissa. Not when you’ve got some questions to ask about yourself.”

You’re right. She knows you are. You have that same look on your face the day you pronounced the same words that felt like an open wound. “Why’d you have to ruin everything?” She asked, not frustratingly cried out. Then again her reasonings were justified. The agreement you had between you was simple. No attachments, no feelings.

With flushed cheeks she looks ahead of you. Her pride not wanting to let you know you aren’t exactly in the wrong, at least not really. Whatever it is, she won’t give you the satisfaction. Much to your great relief. Biting back your tears, you scoff, walking past her. She catches the subtle whiff of your linen scent, instantly bringing back memories of you spending rare mornings in her kitchen. Or evenings of her trying to teach you how to cook Italian food but ended up being distracted by the way you wrapped your arms behind her, placing soft kisses on her neck.

A couple excuses and farewells later you left the party, wishing everyone well and ignored Ava’s slight inquisition in your mood. You waved it off, joking that you’ve had many drinks in you and needed to rest. Which you should have seriously thought of before because Ava being inquisitive Ava knows you don’t really drink, failing at convincing you to slip a few drops of alcohol in the punch at a PTA reunion that one time.

“Something’s off with Romeo.” She points at Jacob and Barbara, who casts a curious look as you leave. He thought about it for a moment before speaking up again.

“I think Romeo is the wrong romantic hero to use here—”

“Can we drop the nerding for a second and gossip…I mean, talk about our colleague?” Ava exasperates.

Usually, Barbara isn’t one for gossip, but she had to admit your behaviour was strange.

“The other day I still saw her class lights on. I presumed it was to catch up on correcting papers but this has been the fifth time in a week.”

“What do you think it is? Heartbreak? Food poisoning?” Ava ponders, already thinking of the bake sale that you participated in, and accepts a plate of visibly raw cookies from a student out of pity.

“Or maybe it’s just stress and fatigue?” He hums, pretending not to know what she was talking about. The truth is, he was aware. At least he had some idea. He saw Melissa in one of your shirts once. Chalking it up to you two having a sleepover he dropped the thought but it was admittedly strange. He tried talking about it to Melissa in a completely innocent curious way, to which she quickly shut him down. He tried asking you, but you would always find a way to slyly change the subject.

“Another theory is either a relationship or a situationship gone wrong. Probably the second one. I haven’t seen that look in a while, that’s someone who needs to get lai—”

Melissa enters after, walking towards Janine and Gregory. She asks for you but they confusedly answer that you left. Right. She knows you did. But a part of her hoped you’d stay. A tiny part.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Digging into her life seems a bit unethical.” Jacob scratches his neck, acting as if he didn’t want to know what was really happening.

“It’s not unethical if we’re preoccupied.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but Ava’s right. We should be rightfully preoccupied.” Barbara supports, earning a slight indignant expression from Ava.

“What do you mean you can’t believe what you’re saying? I’m always right. Almost always.”

“What are we saying?” Janine interrupts, smiling cheerfully at the group. “Oh…is it about the appetisers? Look, I know they’re not exactly homemade but I tried to make it look presentable.”

Melissa is right behind them, peering through the groups' eyes. She catches on to Jacob’s uneasy smile, who grabs an appetiser from a nearby platter to avoid speaking. Ava clears her throat and resumes talking.

“We know they aren’t homemade. Maybe that’s what got our friend sour.”

Ever the sweetest person, Janine’s tone changes at the mention of you. You did look a bit off. She really thought it was the food but you reassured both her and Gregory.

“Thank God because I ate at least ten of those…” mutters Gregory, offering a teasing smile when Janine bats his biceps.

“What got our colleague sour?” Melissa questioned, or rather interrogated. She knew she somehow had to appear clueless if she wanted to avoid having a discussion. The incoming questions were already giving her a migraine. Though the only person she’d trust this issue with is Barbara.

“Now, I am in no way condoning gossip nor peering into personal lives—”

“Oh, just spit it Barb.” Ava eggs on. Barbara sighs and rolls her eyes before turning to Melissa again.

“We think it might be a case of a heartbreak. The opposite of you, actually.”

Ironic.

“Is that what it looks like?” Melissa ponders, trying so hard not to let her voice waver.

“Oh, yeah, speaking of how’s your date going?” Janine smiles, knowing a bit about Melissa’s “mysterious date”, consequently allowing the topic about you to change.

“It’s…it’s going okay. Ish.”

“Are you thinking about going official?” Ava nudges her shoulder, a conspiring smile on her face. “I would like to see who’s giving you that glow. Like where did you find them exactly? Wherever it is, maybe they have more.”

She fights back from blushing, her brain rushing to moments of you taking care of her, your soft praises, how your lips traveled across every inch of her skin.

“That good, huh?” Jacob quips, instantly recognising that look she has. She had it when you left to get coffee and he could’ve sworn she wasn’t just “tired”. She was unabashedly gazing at you. The woman’s eyes widened, wondering if she should shut Jacob up. But that will for sure sell her out.

“Leave the poor woman alone. She’s not who we are talking about at the moment. But you will have to tell me everything soon, won’t you, Melissa?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll tell you everything.”

“In any case, I hope it’s not too bad. I’ve seen that kind of heartbreak before.” Barbara winces at the thought of your solemn face. You were genuinely bright, not too talkative, but still a positive figure at Abbot Elementary.

“Let’s all drink in the honour of our Romeo and hope it’s not that case.” Ava pours drinks for everyone, clearly not using this as an excuse to get everyone to drink.

Melissa stares down at her cup before taking another sip, hoping the cup’s contents will wash down the churning feeling in her stomach.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The next following weeks went on as usual. You preparing your lessons, marking your students' papers. You think you’ve seen fiery red hair at your door but maybe that’s just your delusion.

Melissa’s week was fairly average like yours. Except that there is an issue. She’s not able to clear her mind out of you. That and you’ve left your shirt at her place. She wondered many times if she should call for you to pick up but has decided that your relationship is already awkward as it is. That and she still hasn’t told her best friend who had her smiling dreamily.

To make matters comedically worse Jacob is somehow connecting the dots. Asking her about the shirt you’ve left. Then about you and if you two talked recently. She tried to answer his questions normally but had a gut feeling that this wasn’t just innocent curiosity.

They were now at the professors' lounge room, having just had a lunch break with everyone except you. You said you needed to catch up on lesson prep and heated your lunch and left.

“Melissa I know it’s none of my business—”

“Damn right it’s not.”

“But I was just wondering—”

“Then stop wondering.” She shrugs, moving to pack her things from the lounge room. She liked to consider herself helpful but right now what she needed was to get home. And definitely not try to text you.

Jacob quickly stops her from leaving, blocking the entrance door.

“Jacob don’t make me start—”

“It’s her, isn’t it?”

She blinks her eyes, eyebrows furrowing.

“Look I know I shouldn’t care and it doesn’t concern me. But I’ve seen the way you two look at each other.”

Before she could even answer the door opens, making them both jump in fright. Barbara looks between them and shoots a conspiratorial glance.

“Gossiping again?”

“No?” Jacob answers as he pretends to dust lint off Melissa's shoulders. “Just catching up on…the weather?” To be fair he was a bad liar.

She shrugs his hand off her shoulder, looking at Barbara. She knows she can’t hide anything from her. What is surprising is that she can’t even hide anything from Jacob. Either he was too observant or she was becoming too transparent.

“Is anyone going to tell me anything?” Barbara raises an eyebrow, taking note of their awkward looks.

“It’s complicated.” Melissa sighs out, massaging her temples.

“I think this is something that you two need to talk about alone…” Jacob temptingly mutters, making a move to leave before the redhead grasps his wrist.

“Oh, no. You’re staying.”

It’s the least he could do for trying to dig into her personal affairs. His face is stricken with fear as Barbara’s confusion deepens.

“You might want to uh…sit down for this one, Barbara. But please don’t blame her for anything, I mean like she said it is complicated—”

“Wait, you knew about this?” Barbara inquisitions, her hand waving between her best friend and the frightened man.

“No, no, no! I mean I had some idea of it, Melissa was oblivious and I sort of figured it out—”

“Jacob. Quiet.” Melissa sits down on a chair, head dropping to her hands, mentally preparing for the incoming headache she’s about to get from all this mess.

“Will someone tell me what is going on? It’s not anything too serious is it?” Barbara takes a maternal tone, concern wavering in her voice at the sight of her friend in distress.

“You know I’ve been seeing someone?”

“Yes…? Did he…or they broke up with you? Sweetheart, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s someone we know.” The redhead speaks between her teeth, shame coursing through her body. She takes a deep breath, looking at Jacob who sends her an encouraging nod.

“You know I will never judge you, right?” Her best friend moves to sit in front of her, taking her hand in hers and lightly squeezing it.

“I know, it’s just…”

“Messy.” Jacob completes, earning an exasperated look from the redhead.

“Yeah.”

“Well I’m here to listen. And not judge. That’s not what we’re here for, right?” She looks up at Jacob, who shakes his head and offers his hand in support, hoping the redhead won’t break his phalanges.

“You know we’re here for you no matter what, Mel.”

The support is surprisingly enough for her to gain a little courage. She has to do it. If not for her then for you. Silence ensues.

“It’s…it’s…well.”

When Barbara hears your name, she swears she thought it was a joke. But at the look of Melissa’s face, she knows she is being completely serious.

“For how long?” The question isn’t meant to be judgmental, but the redhead fears it is.

“Four weeks.”

“That explains everything. You tolerated Jacob’s jokes more than usual.”

“Wait…you aren’t…mad at me?”

“Sweetheart, why would I be? I’m in no place to judge you whatsoever. As long as you’re happy and safe, you are free to live your life and see whoever you want to.”

“O…okay. Thank you.”

“There is no need.”

The pair hug, while Jacob awkwardly clears his throat.

“So does this mean I’m safe and won’t get kicked out?” He shrinks back in his posture as Melissa gets up, Barbara stands with her just in case she needs to hold her back. 

“Everything’s all good.”

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay. I think sooner or later you were bound to find out anyway..”

“It is true that I started asking myself a couple of questions when you didn’t have your glow anymore.” Barbara nudges her, smiling at the way she fights back her blush.

“Yeah, well…it’s kinda over now, so…”

“Over? Oh, honey, this isn't over for the two of you. Not until you two had a proper conversation between adults.”

“But she’s–”

“Then tell her you’ll give her all the time she needs. But soon you will need to talk. If she does not understand that, then at least you gave it a chance. Don’t let her run anyway again.”

She knows she’s right. She can’t let this go any further.

“Let who run away?”

Janine walks in a tow with Ava and Gregory. Mr. Johnson, who walked in to look for trash, stayed when he heard something that might make his day interesting.

Melissa looked at everyone before catching your figure in the hallway. You two share a fleeting look before you leave. Everyone follows her gaze before looking back at her. Ava raises her eyebrows and sips her cup of coffee.

“This is messy.”

“Ava, stop–” Janine softly intervenes but Melissa shakes her head.

“No, she’s right. It’s my mess to fix.” She gazes at the empty spot you left, wanting nothing more but to stop you from leaving.

“Are we going to have to play matchmaker?” Ava excitedly whispers to Gregory, who places a hand over her shoulder.

“Looks like it. Or maybe this is something for them to fix themselves.”

“You’re going to have to tell us everything. If you want to, of course. No judgments here.” Ava speakers earnestly, though her voice is edged with curiosity.

“I think this is something for me to talk about later. See you after class.” Melissa smiles at the group one last time, nearly breaking into a grin when Barbara offers her a thumbs up.

She already screwed up once. She wasn’t about to let you go again. Even if you decide to let her go, she has to let you know what she had to say from the beginning. What she wanted to say.