Light and Gravity

​⭐ 🍎 🐦 🐺 Love and Deepspace fics & scenarios with Game coded LIs. Vibe: Heavy Angst & Dark Romance | Fluff & Unhinged Comedy 📥 Ask Box & Requests Open

[lightandgravity]

The Bodyguard's Guide to Grocery Shopping with a Billionaire Artist

Part 2: Aisle 4 and Cat Food

Pairing: Rafayel x You (MC)

(You successfully steer Rafayel away from the locked luxury display, maneuvering the squeaky cart into Aisle 4: Frozen Foods. The temperature drops instantly. Rafayel shivers dramatically, wrapping his designer jacket tighter around himself.)

Rafayel: (Staring through the foggy glass of the upright freezers) It’s an arctic wasteland. A graveyard of convenience. Why is everything trapped in blocks of ice? It’s completely devoid of warmth, like your professional demeanor.

You: (Scanning the glass for frozen veggies) It’s called preservation, Rafayel. It keeps food fresh.

Rafayel: (He stops in front of the ice cream section, his eyes locking onto a brightly colored tub) Wait. What is that? ‘Deep Sea Salted Caramel Ocean Explosion.’

You: (Without looking) Sugar, milk, and artificial coloring. Move along.

Rafayel: (Pressing his face almost entirely against the freezer glass, fogging it up) No, look at the marketing! ‘A wave of pure oceanic bliss in every bite.’ They are capitalizing on my culture! They are commercializing the abyss! I must inspect the structural integrity of this frozen dairy product.

You: (Sighs, opening the freezer door to grab a bag of frozen peas) If you want ice cream, just say you want ice cream. You don't need to turn a sugar craving into a political movement for Lemuria.

Rafayel: (Quickly snatching three different tubs of the ice cream before you can close the door) I am conducting a culinary audit! It’s a matter of creative copyright. (He dumps them into the cart right on top of the generic dish soap)

You: Great. Three tubs of 'Ocean Explosion' and zero actual nutrients. Moving on.

(Five minutes later. The checkout lanes. You guide the cart toward a human cashier, explicitly avoiding the self-checkout to protect the public and machines from Rafayel’s tantrums and impatience. As you start loading the items onto the conveyor belt, Rafayel suddenly spots a crumpled piece of paper on the glossy floor. He swoops down, picking it up with two fingers.)

Rafayel: (Gasps softly, smoothing out the paper like it’s an ancient scroll) y/n. Look at this. The universe has provided us with a financial blessing. 

You: (Not looking up from scanning the lemons) Rafayel, be a good boy and don't pick up trash off the floor. 

Rafayel: It’s not trash! It’s a sacred parchment of commerce. Look at the magical runes. ‘Save 50 Credits on any purchase of two or more boxes of Premium Cat Kibble.’ 

You: (Slowly turning your head to look at him) "You don't even like cats. You literally treat every stray we pass like an apex predator out for your blood."

​Rafayel: (Lifting his chin, his voice taking on that smooth, incredibly stubborn, teasing tone) "Detail-oriented as always, bodyguard. But who’s to say I won't undergo a spiritual transformation in the next five minutes? An artistic muse with whiskers! Think of the synergy! Besides, it says 'Save 50 Credits.' That is free money. Are you telling me you reject the benevolence of the supermarket gods?"

​You: (Deadpan) "I am telling you that if you hand that dirty floor coupon for an animal you actively fear to this tired cashier, I am going to pretend I’m a customer in a different lane."

Rafayel: (He steps closer into your personal space, waving the coupon right in front of your nose with a triumphant, cat-like grin) Admit it, you’re just jealous of my elite hunting instincts. I found buried treasure in the middle of Aisle 5. 

Cashier: (Blinking tiredly, looking at the coupon, then at Rafayel) Sir... this expired in 2024. And we don't even carry this brand anymore. 

Rafayel: (His smile instantly vanishes, replaced by utter shock. He stares at the cashier like he’s just been sentenced to exile) Expired? Time is an illusion created by capitalism! How can a discount have a shelf life?! 

You: (Handing your card to the cashier with a tired sigh) "Drop the trash, your highness. Move your feet before I tell the stray cats outside you're carrying 50 credits worth of kibble."

If Rafayel hands you an expired 2024 coupon for cat kibble, you:

​🎭 Join his dramatic rant about how time is an illusion created by capitalism

​🐈 Buy the cat food anyway and adopt a cat in 5 minutes for the "synergy"

​💳 Silently swipe your payment card, take a deep breath, and walk away

Remaining time: 4 days 18 hours

[nixdvn]

Pocky game with Caleb! (old art)

[hwangintakswifey]

Valko, you don't deserve this

Artist credit: Yookes_ (@Yookes_). On X

[lightandgravity]

The Bodyguard's Guide to Grocery Shopping with a Billionaire Artist

Part 1: Interrogation Room for Vegetables

Pairing: Rafayel x Reader (MC)

The automatic sliding doors glide open, welcoming you into the cool, fluorescent-lit expanse of the local supermarket. Rafayel stops dead in his tracks just past the threshold, shielding his eyes with a dramatic, manicured hand.

Rafayel: (Gasping softly) Oh, the sheer, unmitigated hostility of this lighting. It’s aggressively commercial. It feels like an interrogation room for vegetables.

You: (Grip tight on the handlebar of a slightly squeaky shopping cart, face entirely blank) It’s called a grocery store, Rafayel. People use the light to see if their tomatoes are rotten.

Rafayel: (Takes a cautious step forward, poking at the shopping cart with a single, elegant finger) And why is this mechanical monstrosity rattling? Is it safe? It looks like a cage for trapped artistic impulses.

You: It’s how most carts are... Push it. It will help build muscles.

Rafayel: (Instantly recoils, hiding his hands behind his back) Absolutely not. The kinetic friction of the wheels will ruin the muscle memory in my wrists. If my brushstrokes suffer today, the global art market collapses. You push it. You have tactical training.

You: (Sighs, nudging the squeaky cart forward) Day two of this bodyguard gig, and I’m officially a certified pack mule. Keep close, Sir. Don't touch anything shiny.

Rafayel: (Already wandering away toward the floral department, completely ignoring you) Oh, look at these poor, tragic blooms. Forced into identical plastic sleeves. They’re weeping, Y/N. I can hear their floral anxiety from here.

You: (Steering the cart into the produce aisle) The only thing weeping is going to be your wallet if you keep wandering off. We are here for salt, basic grocery stuff we need to cook food, and eggs. Focus.

Rafayel: (Glides over to a massive display of organic lemons, picking one up and holding it to the light like a priceless diamond) Look at the geometric imperfection of this citrus. The vivid yellow... it’s screaming at me. It wants to be immortalized.

You: It wants to be in a lemonade, Rafayel. Put it back, it's not in the list for today's grocery.

Rafayel: (Deeply offended, cradling the lemon to his chest) Put it back? To let some uncultured stranger squeeze its life force into a mediocre salad dressing? Never! I am adopting this entire pyramid.

You: It’s a lemon, not a stray puppy. Put it back in the pyramid. 

Rafayel: (Gasping, shielding the lemon's 'ears') Don't listen to her, little one. She has the soul of a tax auditor.

You: If you want it so badly just get one. Not a hundred.

Rafayel: One?! One single lemon is an isolated tragedy! It needs its community! Eighty-five at least! I need to study the gradient of the peel under different lunar phases. (Dramatically tosses the single lemon into the cart, where it rolls sadly next to a bottle of generic dish soap) Besides, look at the price tag. 'Two credits per kilo.' Is that a joke? Are they printing these lemons in a basement? Why are they so suspiciously cheap?

You: Because they grew on a tree, you billionaire. Not in a French boutique.

Rafayel: (Narrows his eyes, leaning down slightly to match your height, his voice dropping into that smooth, teasing tone) Are you judging my financial status, Ms. Bodyguard? In a public establishment? How unprofessional. What if a paparazzi is hiding in the frozen food aisle?

You: If a photographer is tracking you through the frozen peas, I’ll tackle them. Until then, step away from the lemons before you buy entire lemons in this shop!

Rafayel: (Eyes light up as he spots a tiny, locked glass case near the deli counter) Wait. Is that... imported white truffle paste? Hidden behind bulletproof glass? Finally, a corner of civilized society!

You: (Grabbing the back of his collar gently to pull him away) Move it, prince. We're just getting the regular salt.

Next: Part 2 → (Aisle 4)

What would you do?

Let him buy the 85 lemons just to see where this madness goes

Pretend I don't know him and walk away slowly

Physically restrain him

Voting ended onAug 14