#It even rained and the lights didn't cause any problems

[ravidrws]

December lights 🎄💡

[inkbybambi]

best friend!simon riley picking you up from a bad date —

words: 2.2k rating: nothing explicit apart from a brief mention of sex, just some light angst and comfort. my blog is 18+ so minors please dni. warning: hurt/comfort, fluff, pet names, insecurity/doubt/worry, mentions of sex, simon is the softie we all know he is notes: originally written for @ghosts-cyphera ♡ we all need a bestfriend!simon in our lives who's so sweet and gentle with us.

One thing you love about Simon — besides everything — is how reliable he is. Strong, steadfast, there when you need him. Even when he’s not physically there — his work taking him away for weeks or even months at a time — you find yourself reading over the messages he’s sent, the little sticky notes he’s left, whatever memento you’ve kept of him tucked away in the drawer in your bedside table.

Not that you’ll tell him that.

You hate asking him for favors — asking anyone for favors, really, but him especially. Whenever you ask someone for help, it's always accompanied by a long-suffering sigh or a roll of the eyes or some very clear indication that they'd rather do anything else.

Except for Simon.

Which is why you're hesitant to ask him more than you absolutely need to. You don't want to push your luck too far, less he eventually tires of you as well.

Losing people hurts, always assuming it's you that caused the problem. You've come to accept this, even if the dark feelings of being too much or a burden claw at the edges of your mind.

But losing Simon? You don't think you'd ever get over that.

It's just after 9pm, the sky dark and clouds threatening, with thunder rumbling steadily in the sky. Your hand shakes as you fumble your phone from your pocket, trying to hold tears at bay as you scroll through your contacts.

Your call log is all Simon.

Some appointments here and there, but Simon everywhere else.

Fuck.

You hiccup, the tears spilling from your eyes as the sky finally opens up, joining you in your mourning.

You don't have any other choice, really, so you click his number before you can talk yourself out of it and walk home instead, bringing it up to your ear as it rings.

He answers before the third ring.

"I'm so sorry to bother you," you sniffle into the phone, before he has a chance to say anything. You take in a sharp breath, blood turning to ice. "Am i bothering you?" you sound so meek and small and tired. “No, dove, you’re not,” comes his calm, reassuring voice. You’re only half-convinced.

"I'm sorry," you begin again. Your heart falls to your stomach, convincing yourself that this is his final straw. You're overtaken by a wave of nausea, despite not having eaten anything since lunch. "I didn't know who else to call, and I lost my tram pass, and I don't have an umbrella, and — "

“Dove,” he says, his accent soothing to your ears — he's so endlessly patient and kind. You ache.

"I can just walk home, I-I'm sorry," you whimper out, unable to stop the tears blurring your vision, feeling pathetic and weak and so, so alone. “Darling,” he says, a little stern. Not angry, never angry. Trying to focus you. “What’s wrong?”

“U-um, my date stood me up,” you sniff, swallowing hard. "I waited an hour," you mumble, looking to your shoes. "Messaged him too, y'know. He just. Didn't show."

You think you hear Simon curse over the line and your heart lurches, feeling like you're about to be sick. “Where are you?”

There's a rustle of fabric, the clink of keys, the heel of his boot walking across his floor. You manage to tell him the name of the restaurant, voice cracking. “Twenty minutes,” he says, and you’re about to protest but he beats you to it. “Sit there and be good and patient and I’ll pick you up, yeah?”

"Okay," you whisper in agreement, before the line clicks dead and you allow yourself to cry, huddling under the awning as some protection from the rain, now coming down in thick, sharp waves.

Thirteen minutes later, the headlights of his truck shine through the dark, pulling up to the curb. You make a mad dash for the passenger door, still getting drenched in the process.

You can't even look at him, hands shaking as you buckle the belt, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

He says your name gently. You take in a shuddering breath and let it out just as shaky, looking over towards him. He's wearing his balaclava, but his eyes — even in the dark, you can make out his beautiful eyes. Assessing you, worrying.

"I'm sorry," you croak out. You can't help it. It's burned into your tongue, driven into your mind to make him understand you didn't want to bother him. He doesn't have to forgive you, but as long as he knows, that's enough.

"Love," he says, and there's... something in his voice, as he reaches over for your hand, holding it gently in his own. His eyes never leave yours. "'m never gonna be mad about you askin' for help." Your eyes flit away, but he squeezes your hand and you reluctantly look back. "You know me better than that," he says, as if he can read the treacherous thoughts swirling in your head, drowning you and making it hard to breathe.

You can only nod, not trusting your voice at the moment. He hums, bringing the back of your hand up to graze his covered lips over the back, pulling out to drive you back.

"This is your flat," you say, fifteen minutes later as he shuts the car off. You were too busy looking at the window, watching the rain drops race down the glass, to notice that he wasn't driving the familiar route to your place.

"Yes," he replies, as if it's obvious he'd bring you here. "You really think I'd let you stay home alone?"

His eyes are so fucking bright. It startles you, and you hate how your heart twists and thumps at how intently he's looking.

"I..." you start, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment. His eyes flicker to your lips, snapping away just as quick. "I was gonna eat ice cream and drink shitty, cheap wine," you say.

"As if I don't have either of those things here," he replies, opening the door and effectively ending the conversation. You scramble after him, eager to be inside in the warmth and burrow yourself into his couch.

"Go get changed," he says, voice clear as he removes the balaclava and bends to untie his shoes.

You hesitate for a second, until he looks up to you and there's that something lingering in his gaze — the same something that was in his voice.

"Go on now," he repeats, softer, and you ditch your shoes and your uncomfortably wet jacket by his.

His flat is as familiar as your own — you could walk through it blindfolded at night and you wouldn't knock into a single thing.

Well.

You might knock into a corner or two, but that's not a vision thing. It's a you're a bit clumsy thing. Simon finds it endlessly amusing, poking at the bruises that blossom on your skin while you bat his hand away.

His bedroom is familiar as well. Which is why you don't think twice before you're shimmying out of your clothes — undergarments as well — and rifling through his drawers, finding your favorite shirt of his and a pair of his boxers.

You take a moment to smell the collar, taking comfort in the scent that lingers. You’ve been dressed in his clothes many times before this but it feels different this time.

As you pad back out to the living room, Simon’s already on the couch. Your favorite blanket is draped across his lap, two bowls of ice cream and a bottle of cheap wine sitting open, glasses filled far more than you would’ve. You’ll indulge him, mostly because you have the sneaking suspicion that he’ll have you sleep here anyways.

His balaclava is off. The last dregs of tension drain from you as he looks over to you, face soft in the lowlight of the lamp, tv ready with a show you’ve watched a thousand times that he watches with you without complaint.

“Knew you’d choose that one,” he says with a bit of a smirk as you crawl on the couch, burrowing yourself into his side, his arm slinging across the back of the cushion.

“Am I that predictable?” you mumble, a small thank you as he hands you a bowl.

He doesn’t answer, but you feel the burn of his stare before he snorts, flicking the tv to start playing, the familiar theme relaxing you further.

The silence with him is comfortable, lingering in a hazy in-between of awake and sleep, empty bowls and mostly empty glasses sitting on the coffee table.

“Were you going to fuck him?” he asks, three episodes in, bottle empty.

You blink, not sure if you heard him properly as you pull back to look at him. You can’t read his eyes. Something hot twists in your gut.

“I-I don’t know, Simon,” you start, the weight of his stare heavy. “Maybe?”

He doesn’t say anything and you chew your lip for a moment, fingers curling to play with the blanket. “Depends how the date went, I suppose. Doesn’t matter much now,” you snort. His gaze hasn’t changed. “Why?”

His jaw clicks, taking a deep breath. “You deserve better ‘n that.”

A confused frown pulls at your mouth, unsure how to reply. “I know how to be safe,” you tell him, voice soft.

He seems to be weighing his words in his head, lowering the volume of the show. You feel sick.

Dark eyes rove over your face, taking in every minute detail. You bite at your nail, just for something to do.

“Don’t think there’s a bloke in the world that’s worthy of ya.”

Your frown deepens, breaking your eyes from his, twisting your fingers in your lap. Relationships aren’t easy. Being that vulnerable with someone isn’t easy.

You never want someone to pay for you, and even the smallest gestures like opening the car door or pulling out your chair feel like it’s too much. You don’t deserve that kind of attention. After a while, they’ll get tired. You’ll become a burden to them like everything else in your life.

It’s easier to be by yourself. The only person you have to worry about bothering is you.

“Love.” He tilts his head, eyes trying to catch yours. How hasn’t he gotten tired of you yet?

A hand under your chin forces your gaze up, and you try to shrink yourself against the back of the couch. Your voice catches in your throat, words stuck there.

“What’s goin’ on in tha’ pretty head f’yours?”

You swallow thickly, finding it damn near impossible to keep your eyes on his.

“‘s not like it matters,” you start. his brows furrow, but he stays silent. “No one would want me anyways.”

“‘n why would you say that?”

Frustration burns the back of your throat. Isn’t it obvious? You can barely call him in a dire situation without thinking the worst of yourself. How can he think of you as anything but a nuisance? How could he think anyone else would put up with it?

“You wouldn’t understand,” you say, defeated. You crumble back into the couch.

“Make me understand.”

Heat flashes at the nape of your neck. He takes your hands in his, cradling them in his warmth. Your name sounds so soft in his voice.

“How aren’t you tired of me?” comes your whispered question, nose tingling and eyes threatening to water. You look at him. Hesitant. Scared.

The silence is loud. His own frown deepens. It takes a few painful minutes, but you see the moment something clicks in place.

“You know I’d do anything for you, yeah?”

Your lip quivers, sniffling as you beg yourself not to cry.

“Because you do the same for me,” he continues. You doubt it, mind going blank of every time he’s come to you for something.

His touch moves to your elbow, tugging you forward gently until he can arrange you in his lap. He slips his hands beneath the hem of his shirt, thumbs rubbing on your hips just above the waistband of his boxers.

You slowly brace your hands on his shoulders. Firm and broad and safe.

“You apologize so much. You worry so much.” the tears slip down your cheeks, throat aching, but now you can’t look away from him. One hand moves to cup the nape of your neck, thumb rubbing gently at the skin behind your ear.

“You’re allowed to ask for help.”

You shake your head, a no caught in your throat, tears blurring your vision.

“Oh, love.” He cradles you into the curve of his neck, arm wrapping around your waist and keeping a gentle hold at the base of your skull. “You have me wrapped around your finger ‘n you don’t even know it.”

He lets you cry into his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt. His cologne is soothing and you eventually slump against him. You’re so tired.

His lips graze your temple, his soft touch lulling you to sleep. You’ll talk about it tomorrow, but for now you want to stay wrapped up in his arms, held by someone who genuinely loves you.

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Them with a reader that worships another Archon

characters: Venti / Zhongli / Ei / Furina x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: none

a/n: Didn't write for Ei in a long time... not to mention Zhongli and Venti, so if I got some of their personality traits wrong, I'm sorry.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Venti 

“Let’s hope you’re not made out of sugar, or else we’re gonna have a tiny problem”, the Bard joked once he took a glance out of the window, the heavy rain and thunder that had come seemingly out of nowhere difficult to notice, even for the drunken inhabitants of Angel’s Share.

“Rain’s a nuisance at best, I’ll be fine”, your response lacked any signs of the usual annoyance people would feel in this situation, whether it was the alcohol or your attitude towards rain that made you seem almost relaxed was up for debate however.

Just as the words had left your mouth, a giant lightning caused the room to light up, soon followed by a deafening thunder, earning you a grin that spoke more than a thousand words. “Still only a nuisance?”

“Sure, the Raiden Shogun will protect me from the lightning”, came your dry response, causing the bard’s ears to perk up. Truth be told, he couldn’t care less about whatever god you were worshiping, forcing people’s hands or getting grumpy over their decisions was hardly the God of Freedom’s modus operandi. Although this did open up a whole new conversation topic.

“Want me to pass your mighty Raiden Shogun a message the next time I see her?”, Venti offered with a smirk, drawing a laugh out of you almost instantly.

“Yeah, sure Venti. I have no doubt you’d be able to play your way into an audience with her, especially since the last time you stepped foot into Inazuma went so swimmingly”, you jokingly responded, waving goodbye before readying yourself to run back home through the rain.

Zhongli

There was neither law nor contract that obliged the citizens of Liyue to worship Rex Lapis. Sure, the Archon might have been the city's patron god and had descended each year to give instructions and advice, but who’s name spilled out of its citizens' lips during their prayer was none of Zhongli’s business. 

And yet, when he heard a particular name slip out of your mouth, the Archon couldn’t help but furrow his eyebrows for the briefest of moments.

“Thank Barbatos, I was starting to think I’d never find it”, you let out a relieved sigh once your eyes finally spotted the pin on the floor, glistening as if it was calling out for its owner before quickly finding itself stuck onto your coat once again, your lips forming a small smile.

“Hmm? Is something the matter?”, you once again turned towards Zhongli, not missing the conflicted expression that had since long been replaced by his usual smile.

“Not at all. I was simply surprised for a moment, Barbatos Worshippers in Liyue are pretty scarce after all, although there’s certainly nothing wrong with having another Archon as one’s Deity.” His explanation was enough to satisfy you, as your conversation quickly shifted back to the previous topic. And yet the scene remained on his mind for quite a while.

Let’s hope you and your god’s paths never converged… for your faith’s sake.

Ei

Hearing you mumble another Archon’s name in your brief prayer before eating caused Ei’s hand to freeze just close to her mouth, leaving the small sweet hovering in front of her face as her eyes remained fixed on you, the silence gradually causing your face to turn all shades of red as you tried to hide your tenseness behind a polite smile.

“I didn’t know you worshiped Rex Lapis”, Ei stated, her tone coming out more accusatory than she ever intended, causing a small apology to follow shortly after, bringing the tension of the room down significantly. 

Humans were entitled to their own decisions, and yet hearing you worship another god left a… bitter taste in her mouth. Especially since she wasn’t sure whether or not it had to do with her or was totally unrelated, the thought that you liked another Archon more than her filling her with jealousy, no matter how ridiculous she knew the whole situation to be.

“My family originally came from Liyue, so praying to Rex Lapis before meals is somewhat of a tradition for me… even if I don’t worship him on many other occasions”, you explained sincerely, remembering scenes of sharing meals with your family as a small smile made its way onto your face.

Whether it was because of your explanation or the gentle expression on your face, but whatever semblance of jealousy Ei felt within her swiftly melted away, her shoulders relaxing before she finally took a bite of the food in front of her, the corners of her lips rising when you did the same.

Furina

Truth be told, when Furina heard another Archon’s name come out of your mouth she felt a wave of relief wash over her. The last thing she wanted was for you to put her on a pedestal, no matter how attention-seeking she could be from time to time. And while she couldn’t blame those still seeing her as their Archon, considering how she had played the role for generations, she wished for your relationship to be one of equals instead of a god and her worshiper.

“Ah, I guess praying to another Archon in front of a former one is a bit rude. I’m sorry-”, you rushed to form an apology once you noticed Furina’s silence, your face growing red in embarrassment and shame before being cut off by her.

“It’s fine, I’m not as vain as to feel slighted by such a non-issue”, she lifted her hand before waving you off, a smirk on her lips as she thought of what to say next. “I am no longer an Archon after all, so having people worship the grass the Archon ‘Focalors’ walks on would only serve as a distraction from how mesmerizing the great Furina is.”

A chuckle from you was all it took to bring her back down from her ego-trip, your smile quickly spreading over to her, and before she knew it, she was snickering herself.

“Alright, let’s get the great Furina a dessert as reward for her inexhaustible modesty.”

[valsverse]

MIDNIGHT RAIN

PAIRING — percy jackson x gn!reader SUMMARY— you. percy. a rainy night. what more could you ask for? WORD COUNT — 0.7k

THE SOUND OF RAIN hitting the pavement resonated throughout the deserted streets, but you and percy couldn't be bothered by the clamor. it was midnight, an ungodly hour for most, a time when most people would be sound asleep, yet here you were, wandering the empty streets with your beloved. it felt wrong to be out at this time, but then again, it felt so exhilarating.

initially, you were hesitant to let percy talk you into going out in the rain, but the idea of spending time with him was too tempting to resist. with no school the next day, the rain pouring down, and your boyfriend by your side, you felt like you were living in the moment.

percy's laughter filled the air as he led you along, urging you to follow him. his fingers were tightly interlaced with yours, his grip firm and reassuring, as if he were afraid you might disappear at any moment.

percy didn't care if zeus was probably throwing thunderbolts right now, he just loved the rain. he loved how the water droplets made him feel alive and rejuvenated, the way it cooled his skin and made him feel as if he belonged in the world. but most of all, he loved that he could share these moments with you.

"wait, where are we going?" you called after him, your laughter mingling with his.

"who said we were going anywhere in particular?" percy turned around to beam at you with a smile so radiant it could light up the night sky.

you smiled back at his spontaneity.

rain continued to pour down, instantly cooling your skin and dampening your clothes. this was probably the #1 way to get a cold, however, that would be tomorrow's problem. occasionally, cars raced by, splashing water up onto the sidewalks, but percy would simply become hydrophobic, shielding you from the water, and acting as your very own personal umbrella.

as you both approached a streetlight, a broad grin spread across percy's face, and for a moment, his eyes gleamed with an unspoken excitement. it was as if he knew something that you didn't, and the anticipation in his expression was infectious.

he looked at you so lovingly that it made your heart flutter. with a single glance, he had the power to make you feel like the most important person in the world. this pure and gentle boy, who smiled secretly at you, seemed to hold your heart in his hands. and you were perfectly okay with that.

before you could even ask him what he was up to, percy suddenly shook his head, sending water flying everywhere, including all over you. you almost shrieked in surprise, but with a small smile, you managed to hold back the sound. you followed suit, shaking your head and laughing as the water droplets flew around you.

you probably looked like weirdos. but neither of you cared, because both of you were happy.

eventually, your head started to ache from the constant movement, and you reach up to cup percy's face, bringing him to a stop as well. your other hand slides into his hair, messing it up even further as you both catch your breath. suddenly, percy lifts you up and twirls you around, causing another burst of laughter to escape your lips. he sets you down gently, and you both stand there, drenched and smiling from ear to ear.

"oh, you have no idea how happy you make me," percy says with a smile, his forehead resting against yours.

you raise an eyebrow. "even right now, like after we just did that?"

"especially right now," he replies, grinning. "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." he thinks for a moment. "well, besides blue waffles, of course."

you chuckle at his comment, bringing him impossibly closer by the collar of his shirt. "well, actions speak louder than words, jackson," you tease.

and with that, you crash your lips onto his.

it's a brief but passionate moment that electrifies your senses, and you feel a thrill coursing through you that lingered even after you pulled away.

you knew it was a probably weird sight, two teenagers, seventeen and crazy, lost in the moment and oblivious to the world around them, but you didn't care. everything felt perfect in that moment, and you wouldn't have wanted it any other way. as you looked at each other, drenched in rain and laughing onto each other's lips, you knew that this was a moment that shouldn't have happened. but it did, and it felt just right.

a/n

my ass writing this on the sunniest most perfect day of september:

also pls tell me someone got the fahrenheit 451 "seventeen and crazy" reference at the end. 😭😭

[cupids-chamber]

| Mammon x Reader — “ Missing you “ 

Commissioned by an anonymous user Light angst to fluff / Gender neutral reader Commission me here_

Mammon didn't approve of your departure, he was heavily against the sheer idea of you leaving even if it was just to visit your friends and family. He especially disapproved of the fact that you were leaving alone, and without him. He really wouldn't have minded if he was allowed to leave with you, but you didn't seem to bring that up as a suggestion, then again explaining how you and him are involved might've been a bit of a hassle to explain at family dinners. It's not everyday your friend or child comes up to you to explain how they're dating one of the Seven sins, a literal demon. 

Or it could be the fact that you were worried you'd burden him. That seemed much more plausible but he couldn't help but overthink it as the days passed by and the day of your departure came closer. He did have a small problem with his elder brother around this time, so he could see why you wouldn't bring it up, but Mammon couldn't help his intrusive thoughts get the better of him every now and then. 

But even so, Mammon was at his utmost behavior (as much as he could be), when you left. Though he looked like a sad pitiful puppy, left out in the rain the moment you said goodbye to him (Though a parting kiss on the cheek helped soothe his worries momentarily). He didn't adore the idea of you leaving, and the moment you had left he had wished for your fast and hopefully safe arrival back home. However, he couldn't help but grow more worried as the days passed and your original 3 day trip turned into a week.. and then two.. and then it even became three..

At first he ignored the thoughts that raced through his head, as it would cause him to grow more worried and impatient, and frankly he didn't wish to do anything abrupt and upset you as a result. In the beginning, he started playing off your increasingly long absence as a situational thing, maybe your friends— possibly family, pleaded with you and convinced you to stay a couple days extra. That didn't seem unusual, after all you've been stuck in the Devildom for quite some time, he could see that happening.

But as the days, and weeks passed and your absence was almost a month in length he couldn't help but grow more worried. Sleepless nights wondering where you were, as he hyper fixated on any mistake he could've possibly made to upset you (and sadly, he found many to blame). He hadn't received any form of contact from you, no messages, phone calls, emails.. He's well aware that you were in the human realm, but he couldn't help but think that you just refuse to talk to him purposefully, that he had fucked up majorly, and that for some reason you wont be coming back. 

As much as Mammon didn't like to betray the trustful bond between you too, he couldn't help it when he entered your room. He was a bit comforted knowing that you had left quite a few things that were precious to you here, implying that you'd come back. However, that wasn't enough, Mammon had found himself looking through each and every corner of your room, trying to find anything that would bring him an ounce of closure or explanation into your lengthy and unexplained absence. He spent quite some time convincing himself that this was okay, and that he had a reasonable reason to wreck your room in search of an answer. 

At the end of the day, he didn't find anything. He'd clean the room tomorrow, he was extra careful when touching things he knew were precious to you, he wouldn't want you to grow more upset at him, after all the only reasonable explanation he found was the fact that you were upset with him. At the end of the day, Mammon found himself on your bed, laying down and worn out from exploring every nook and cranny of your room, not that the work was physically taxing but rather emotionally taxing and as weird as it may sound, Mammon found comfort when he settled down on your bed. It lingered with your scent, and the brand of shampoo and soap that you'd use daily. 

Mammon couldn't explain to you the relief he felt when you had finally come back, he didn't even give you the time to explain as he hugged you. He held you in his embrace for quite some time, processing everything (Did you change your shampoo?), over the next few days you found yourself explaining what had happened that kept you away for so long. Comforting your rather upset lover. He didn't seem to have done well without you, for such a lengthy period but then again there was no explanation as to why you had left for so long. The next few days were quite busy, as Mammon was a lot more clingy than before as he tried to fill in for the time you were gone.

© cupids-chamber, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[1080drgn]

[TRANSFORMERS AU: Black Rain — one-shot] [content warning — oc x canon;]

prev.

— English is not my first language, so for any mistakes in grammar, fluency or overall writing, I apologize! —

Winter.

This year's winter was not what one would often think of. It wasn't the lovely, magical winter when spending your days cuddled up under a warm blanket was your first priority and pleasure. In peace. No, it was winter of the nasty kind. It's the kind where snow and mud mix together, creating the disgusting sight under your doorstep; the kind that freezes everything on its path, making it hurt to breathe and bringing destruction and death to those, who are helpless and have nowhere to hide.

The Decepticons managed to set up a temporary base in the woods, that hid them between the bare trees and the cybertronian ones resembling to firs and spruces, shielding them from the freezing cold reaching up to them. At least some of it, anyway. But, despite the terrible cold outside, the Decepticons had enough Energon for themselves, so it wasn't much of a problem. Their biggest issue was that their equipment would freeze and stop operating correctly at times. The radars wouldn't pick up frequencies correctly, as well as comm links stuttered every time it was turned on.

The Autobots probably had the same problem out there, somewhere. The annoying snowstorms slowed both of the factions down, limiting not only their forces, but even their "fighting spirits". Everyone started to focus on themselves, to survive this horrendous winter.

The Decepticon air commander walked into his private quarters… or office, whatever it was. It's temporary anyway, soon to be destroyed, it doesn't need a specific name. Starscream was visibly, mentally exhausted, so his first thought was to seek peace of mind in his desolate room. The only source of light was coming from the open door, which led into the outside world. The seeker gaze sank through the words in his data pads laying on the desk, with a tired look. His optics were dimmed, craving stasis at this point.

But as if things couldn't get any worse, Starscream suddenly heard heavy footsteps behind him, crunching the white snow, before hitting the metal floor that echoed through the room. The air commander frowned, already getting annoyed at the sound and presence of another bot nearby.

"What do you want now, Lord Megatron?" He asked, thinking it must've been his leader. He obviously hadn't enough energy to converse with anybody. Especially Megatron.

To his question, silence responded. The footsteps stopped, which caused the air commander to get slightly lost. It wasn't Megatron? The seeker's optics glanced around, before his helm turned and noticed a tall, dark figure standing in front of him, staring right back at him. He knew very well, who it was.

"It's you�� The coward who fled." Starscream hissed. He furrowed. "…How did you get here unnoticed?"

"I stunned the others. They'll be fine. Although surprisingly, your systems didn't pick up an intrusion." Abyss answered, his voice dull.

Starscream grumbled. Of course, everything froze again. Damn this cold. "Why are you here?" The mech suddenly pointed his null ray at the other. Though deep down, he knew he won't win this fight, if he attacked first.

Abyss looked at the desk behind the air commander with curiousity, but his faceplate didn't show it. He remained quiet, until finally speaking and returning his gaze back at Starscream.

"I've observed you for quite sometime. Your behaviour not only is much entertaining, but I have a need to know more about you and the faction itself."

"That doesn't sound creepy at all." The seeker made a sour expression, looking slightly to the side, sometimes behind Abyss, sometimes at the wall. He started to get nervous, but he didn't let his body language show it yet.

"I still don't know a lot about our world, hence I'm asking you to help me." The winged bot continued, stepping closer to Starscream.

As Abyss began to tower over him, the air commander pointed his null ray directly at the tall mech's face. But the other knew, that the seeker wasn't that much of an idiot to actually shoot him right now. He was bluffing.

Starscream laughed through his annoyance. "And what I'd get in return? You don't actually think I'm going to side with you, just because?"

And just as the Decepticon was about to continue his grumbling, Abyss lifted his arm and opened his servo, offering it.

"That's what I thought. I'll give you my power. A part of it, certainly, but not all of it." He said.

The seeker looked at Abyss' servo, before right back up at his black and white optics. Starscream lowered his weapon. This sounded rather interesting, but he was not yet fully convinced. The seeker knew of Abyss' strength and speed, so he was thinking about it.

The tall bot's optics softened.

"I'll give you my speed and strength, that matches no one else's…" He spoke softly, as the thought about his next words. Abyss' tone of voice turned serious, as he began to slowly circle the air commander. "Not even Megatron, a force to be reckoned with."

Starscream's crimson orbs flashed. His metal, jet wings twitched as he heard that. The air commander was really about to do it. The thought and plans of finally usurping Megatron may actually come to fruition. But his loyalty to the Decepticon cause still lied within him. Though, changing and creating a few rules and ranks to his liking doesn't seem like such a bad idea.

The seeker chuckled. "You ought to be aware by now that I'm not the bot you should put your trust in."

"I don't doubt that, but I'm not asking for much. And I don't think a bot like you would ever pass such an opportunity." Abyss acknowledged, as he stood once more in front of the Decepticon.

Starscream looked to the side, at the metal floor, uncertain. He remained quiet, thinking about this deal in which he had the final word. Oh, the image of the golden crown and the royal cape flashed in his mind. Perhaps this dream of his was closer than he had previously believed.

He smirked.

"We'll see."

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Bad For Business: Level Four

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.2K] An enemies to lovers au. Arcade coworkers, who love to hate each other, get too competitive about Dig Dug and share a mutal annoyance for the kids that like to pester them. Choose your own adventure by picking an option at the end of the chapter.

There was a boy at the desk asking for you. 

He was tall and a little wild looking, unruly dark curls and tattoos peeking out from under the leather and denim he wore, all ripped off sleeves and silver rings. He was smirking at Steve like he knew something he didn’t, like was in on some sort of secret. 

Steve didn’t like him. 

“She’s on her break,” Steve told him, eyes narrowed like he couldn’t help himself. “Went to the store or something.”

Steve expected that to be the end of it, but the boy with all the rings just grinned, dimples on show before he hoisted himself onto the desk. “I’ll wait,” he said, too cheery. “I’m Eddie, by the way. Munson.”

Steve nodded, keeping his distance as he pretended to tidy away loose rota sheets, used up ticket stubs and a piece of paper Robin and Argyle had been drawing progressively larger dicks on. One had wings and a halo. 

“Yeah, I know,” Steve frowned. He was still suspicious. Why was the local drug dealer coming in and asking for you? The arcade was quiet enough that Steve didn’t have an excuse to leave, and honestly, he wanted to stick around and see. “Just didn’t realise you guys… knew each other.”

Eddie looked smug in an awful way, still acting like he was clued into something Steve didn’t have any idea about. Like he was trying not to laugh at him. The longer haired boy tilted his head to the side, all charm and bravado, still smiling. “Oh yeah.” He nodded, enthusiastic. “We know each other real well. Super close.”

You hadn’t mentioned Eddie before. Not in front of Steve. Fuck, you’d never mentioned any sort of boyfriend at all. But then Steve remembered nights that it rained, when he’d jog to his car only to see you run past him, jacket over your head and clambering into an old van, the windows dark enough that you could never see the driver. 

Maybe he’d been kidding himself all those times when he assumed it was your dad. 

“Oh,” fuck, is that all he could say? “Cool.” 

There was a beat of silence between them, smothered in arcade game jingles and alarm bells that announced a new winner, but the air was heavy enough to be felt, thick with a tension Steve wasn’t used to. 

Was this what being threatened felt like? 

No. No. Steve didn't have anything to feel threatened about. So why was he still talking?

“I guess - I mean - well, I just never knew she had a boyfriend.” Steve cleared his throat, all awkward and he found himself standing a little straighter, chest puffed out, chin held high.  

Thank fuck Robin wasn’t on shift, ‘cause Eddie was laughing and suddenly Steve felt about three feet shorter. What the fuck was this guys problem?

“I didn’t know you gossiped about your love lives, Harrington,” Eddie shot back. His smile was wolfish and it looked like a challenge, it felt like a dare. “You interested in who she’s hangin’ out with outside of work?”

“What?” It was jarring, the way Steve’s stomach dropped. A new kind of nervousness twisting around his guts, a heat that crawled from his stomach to his chest. His cheeks felt too warm. “What? No. Jesus, no, I just— we’re not even friends.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it still tasted like one. Bitter and acidic, like swallowing a too big pill without water. It got stuck in his throat, made him wince. 

Eddie tutted, leaning back in his hands, taking up the majority of space on the counter top. His legs were swinging, rips across his knees in his black jeans, a chain hanging from his belt looks, glinting in the neon lights. He looked like he was having far too much fun. 

“That’s a shame,” Eddie twisted his lips, big eyes looking all sad, acting up like he was on stage or something. “She’s real sweet, isn’t she?”

Steve scoffed, a choked out laugh that made Eddie’s lips twitch up. Steve busied himself with more loose papers, bundling together things that weren’t supposed to be filed with each other, name badges and empty chocolate wrappers stuck between faxes. 

“Uh, sure, maybe,” Steve wrinkled his nose, squinting at the other boy. “I don’t know. She’s never, uh, all that sweet to me.”

And then Eddie was laughing, a full, bright cackle of a laugh and Steve was once again left feeling like he didn’t know the full joke. But he didn’t get to ask what he’d missed, what was so funny, ‘cause a kid who could hardly see over the desk approached him, a sticky hand full of equally sticky tickets that he wanted to swap for some knock off Star Wars toy. Disgruntled, Steve fussed with the glass cabinet where they kept all the ‘prizes’, his gaze flickering between Eddie and the door.  

Surely you’d be back soon. Right? To see your boyfriend.  

When the kid was gone, happily clutching his ‘nightsaber’ (even Steve knew that was wrong), Eddie was watching him again. 

“She’s pretty, right?” 

Steve froze. “What?” Was this some kind of trick? Who the fuck goes ‘round asking other dudes if they think their girlfriend is pretty? “I don’t— I’ve never—”

Eddie was grinning. Again. That Cheshire Cat smile, white teeth flashing somewhat threateningly. Steve didn’t know what the fuck was going on. Was this about last week? The powercut? Did you go home and tell your boyfriend how close Steve got to you, how he held your hand and for once in his goddamn life, Steve Harrington didn’t wanna argue with you?

“You don’t think she’s cute?”

Nothing had happened. Nothing ever would’ve. It couldn’t. You hated him, and Steve hated you. Right? Right. 

“Look, dude, I don’t know what your deal is, but I’m not trying to hit on your girl, alright?” Someone got a new high score on the pinball machine across from the desk and an alarm rang, tickets flying out of the dispenser, lights flashing red and green. It felt like a warning. “She— we— we don’t talk, alright? Not like that, god, we’re not friends, okay?”

Eddie didn’t really seem to believe him, but Steve was more than relieved when the boy shrugged and slid off of the counter, dimples on show, beaming at him. He dusted his hands off like he’d completed whatever task he’d come to do before dropping a set of keys in front of Steve. 

“Tell uh, my girl, that it was a radiator leak. No biggie. Car’s out front,” another flash of a smile, too charming now. Steve’s head was spinning. “Catch you later lover boy.”

What the fuck?

Eddie made his way past a crowd of kids, neon signs lighting up his skin in shades of lime green and fuschia. He spun before he got to the door, clapping his hands together and pointing back at the other boy, like he’d just remembered something important. 

Is this where Eddie threatened him? Told him to stop looking at his girlfriend and keep his hands to himself? It was a fucking powercut, it was pitch black, what was he supposed to do? Let her hurt herself? The argument was already playing out in Steve’s head, his defence at the ready. 

Besides, he could take Eddie Munson, right? Sure he was pretty much the same height but Steve was broader, stronger, surely. But maybe Eddie had that trailer park kid scrappiness, that feral sort of energy Dustin said Max exuded when she got ramped up—

“And, uh, Harrington?”

Steve felt his fist tighten around the countertop. 

“You’ll catch more bees with honey than vinegar.” Eddie saluted, a massive skull glinting silver and pink in the light, and then with a wink, he was gone. 

What the fuck?

He didn’t get a chance to ask what Eddie was on about, because Lucas Sinclair and Dustin Henderson approached the desk, ignoring how he was standing with his mouth agape, brows knitted together in confusion. Everything was almost forgotten about as he argued with the two young boys about how no, he didn’t know when Donkey along was getting fixed, and no, he wasn’t prepared to let them poke about at the machine with Dustin’s backpack screwdriver. 

And then you came back from your lunch, a flash of daylight breaking the darkness of the arcade as the door opened and shut behind you. Steve watched you hand a wrapped sandwich to Argyle before making your way around the desk to where he stood. 

Maybe he was staring, maybe that’s why you were looking at him weird. Maybe that’s just the kinda gaze you gave him on the daily. You were wearing a skirt today, black and swishy around your thighs, your staff shirt cut off so it hit just above your navel, much to Murray’s despair. There was a warning written up and stuck to your locker, but you hadn’t seemed to care. 

“What?”

Shit, Steve was still staring. He blinked, shrugged and turned back to the cash machine, despite no customers to serve. “What? Nothin’, god.”

You didn’t argue with him, just narrowing your eyes at his strange mood before pushing your way into the staff room. It was empty bar someone’s leftover lunch and a walkman that lay on the table and then suddenly Steve was barging his way into the too small room, a familiar set of keys in his hands. Your disco ball keychain sent rainbows over the walls, tiny glimmers of light across Steve’s cheeks, his hands, his arms. 

He held them out to you, cheeks tinged pink like something had happened and you’d missed it, ‘cause he couldn’t really look you in the eye either. You stared, taking your keys from the boy slowly, like any sudden movements would scare him. 

Not that you cared. 

Steve spoke before you could say thanks, leaning against Murray’s abandoned desk with his hands shoved in his pockets as he cleared his throat. The air was heavy with something, more tension than you were used to, a weight to it that was more than summer air and teenage hormones. 

“Your uh, your boyfriend dropped them off,” Steve was finally looking at you, brown eyes honeycomb in the too bright lights. “Said it was a broken radiator or somethin’.”

You frowned, confused at the word that was thrown out between you. Boyfriend? But once again, before you could manage to speak, Steve was talking again, all his thoughts tumbling out at once, swimming at your feet. 

“Eddie Munson, huh? I didn’t— I didn’t know you were dating him. Or anyone. Not that it matters,” Steve sucked in a breath, like he was trying to catch each sentence, like he could swallow back the words he’d already said. “It doesn’t matter, obviously. Why would it? I mean, fuck, s’not like we share updates on our love lives or shit—” 

“Harrington.”

“—like, I don’t care if you’re dating him, I just didn’t, like, except it, you know? Munson? Didn’t think he was your type, not that I know what your type is, s’not like I think about it or anything—”

“Steve.”

The boy stopped talking, jaw snapping shut as he looked at you, a little wide eyed. He was breathing a little heavier, hands leaving his pockets only to take through his hair. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” You played with the keys in your hands, disco ball keychain clinking prettily between the silver. The reflections scattered, rainbow coloured freckles on Steve’s cheeks. “I’m not dating Eddie, we’re just friends.”

You weren't sure why you were explaining this.

“But Munson said—” Steve stopped mid sentence, the abruptness of it hanging in the air between you. Eddie hadn’t said you were dating. Eddie hadn’t called himself your boyfriend, had he? No. That was Steve’s doing. “Uh, he called you his girl… I just assumed…”

You snorted, eyes rolling in a way that held a lot more affection than what he was used to seeing when it was directed at him. You shrugged, dropping yourself into a chair at the table, eyeing Steve with a new sort of curiosity. He really was acting fucking weird. 

“We’re close,” you said, copying Eddie’s words from earlier without even knowing. “Best friends, you know? Nothing… nothing more.”

“Oh.” Steve’s lips were a pretty ‘o’ shape, pink and pouting and you practically saw the gears inside his head whirring. “Right.”

“He was probably just trying to be funny,” you explained, unwrapping a chocolate bar you’d taken from your bag. You bit into it, licking caramel from your lips. “He’s not though. Despite what he thinks.”

Steve nodded, looking a little dazed, but he pushed himself off of Murray’s desk and sent you another look you couldn’t really decipher. Before he made it back to the door that led to the arcade, you stopped him, an edge to your voice that wasn’t there before. 

“Did he, uh,” you winced when your voice cracked, staring at the table instead of the boy. “Did Eddie say anything else?”

Steve almost kicked the desk leg, swearing as he spun back to you, eyes darting over your face, like he was trying to work something out. He thought about Eddie’s questions. 

If Steve thought you were sweet. If Steve thought you were pretty. 

“What?”

‘You’ll catch more bees with honey than vinegar.’

“Did he say anything? You know, stupid shit.” You licked your lips again, chasing sugar, looking nervous. 

Lover boy lover boy lover boy. 

“No,” Steve lied, feeling something burn in his chest. Maybe it was the breath he was holding. “No, he didn’t say anything else.”

[stxneflxwers]

avolition.

⋯⁂ summary. suffering from a particular problem, some days you just couldn't care less what goes on—surrendering to your mind's desire for peace.

⋯⁂ a/n. short and sweet post here; so im not really worried about small grammar errors, word count, formatting, or what have you. i've been struggling with avolition lately (in which i mean my ass is getting OBLITERATED.) and if u need more info on what avolition is, i can give a VERY quick rundown: "Avolition is a total lack of motivation that makes it hard to get anything done. You can't start or finish even simple, everyday tasks."

⋯⁂ characters. neuvillette. gn reader.

⋯⁂ cw. reader suffers from a disorder that has avolition (lack of motivation.) reader is going to display a lot of apathy toward life. neuvi biggest sweetheart ever, even when he's away. hurt/comfort.

neuvillette.

life isn't so easy, everyone knows this. but some days are even harder than others, to the point they pass slowly and painfully. and lately, it's felt like forever since you've managed to get through a day without too much struggle.

neuvillette quickly realizes this.

he's also doing his best to support you, even while away from home. he'll send a melusine or two to go periodically check up on you. he knows you'll forget to eat and drink otherwise.

what he didn't expect is the day when he returned from his office around dinner time, much earlier than usual.

all of the lights in the home were off, much to his surprise. usually you'd leave a light on, should have you been up and about. he hadn't sent a melusine today to check up on you around lunchtime since you told him you were feeling fine.

it finally dawns on him that what you said was possibly a lie. or maybe misguided hope? he's not really sure which it is. and to be frank, he doesn't even care which it was at the moment.

he quickly puts his things away and takes his coat off, almost haphazardly dropping it to the floor instead of hanging it up on the coat rack. his hands tremble and so do his breaths, but he does his best to remain as calm as a stormless day. even when it starts raining outside from his uptick in stress alone.

he takes big yet quiet strides to the bedroom, where he finds you still in bed—staring off into space.

he sighs in relief when he notices your steady but shallow breathing causing your body to rise and fall. why he assumed the worst is beyond him, he simply did without a second thought.

when you seemingly don't notice him, his brows furrow and his frown tightens. he's not too sure what to do or what to say. and yet again, without a second thought, he approaches you,

"my dear?" he mutters, voice on the verge of shattering under the weight of seeing you so helpless.

you don't respond. totally nonverbal.

but, at least, you glance at him—even though your eyes are lightless, he's so happy to have you acknowledge him in this moment. he smiles a little from it as he slips his arms around you, cradling you carefully. he rests his head against the flat of your chest, letting out a long sigh.

"oh, how you worry me..." he mumbles, almost sleepily, "i love you very much. but i do understand that today is harder for you. therefore, i will not scold you. nor would i at any other point." he reassures, his voice soft and sweet as one of fontaine's infamous cakes.

your lips twitch a little, threatening to break out into a smile. even your eyes soften, laden with relief. heart filling with love, you begin to feel a little bit more rejuvenated,

"i...love you too..."

[halaboyz]

still of serendipity, yunho

ateez bf (ex)! yunho x gn! reader angst angst angst angst ; break-up fic! wc: 1.1k warnings: idk what i should put it as but reader starts to list things that can be considered as self-hate(?); swearing a/n: jeong yunho is just the PERFECT character for playing angst and the way he holds always holds a spot whenever i think of angst is ... this is light angst though! at least for me ^^

It was way past afternoon, yet sometime before night. It was neither dusk or night, you didn't know— with the way the dark clouds uniformly enclosed the bright blue sky maybe minutes ago, dropping hundreds and thousands and millions of rain that formed a rather calming sound in the background.

What you knew though, was that you were still sitting in silence as you stare out the window, hearing yet another sigh coming out of the man's lips in front of you.

"y/n," He calls out, and you look down to heave a breath to hold your tears.

"Yunho, the rain's pretty."

"We've been dragging this out by so long already, y/n. Don't you think it's already time?" Yunho whispers, ever so softly. He scoots closer to you to lean his elbows on the table.

You look at him emotionlessly, yet pleadingly. You were one to expect this was already to come, yet it still hits you like a truck.

"Yunho... I really can't do this right now." It was true. You have a lot on your plate; your job currently thinking whether resigning with you is a good idea or terminating your contract with how you were so idea-less these past few months, your family borderline cutting all connections with each other, friends unable to be contacted— Yunho was the only one you're now holding onto. "I really, really can't. Can't we... wait this out? I really really need you by my side right now and I... can't."

"Do you just need me, y/n?" Yunho stares at you hopelessly, the rhetorical question wanting to be said out loud for weeks already.

It makes you silent, though. Did you really just need him? Did you make him feel like that, that you only needed him? Did it seem like that?

Because you knew for sure you'd travel space and back to prove your love for this man.

So when he asked that, made it seem like you only used him for your benefit— or whatever he meant, that's how you understood it anyway, no point in arguing on an ending fight— you knew it was really a waste of more energy to try and prove something to him.

"If it seemed like that to you, take it like that." The disappointment was still evident in your voice, laced with anything the like of a venom that slowly killed the both of you.

"You know what I mean, y/n. You know how much I love you, and I still do. But... things are just not going too well that even love can't make me stay. I'm not the problem, you're not the prob—,"

"Stop telling me that there's no problem with me, Yunho. I need you to fucking say anything to make me please, fucking hate you." You finally sob, looking around the cafe with no other customers but the both of you, and the barista standing awkwardly behind the cashier, feigning ignorance.

You couldn't care less, though. You messily wipe your tears away but you sob yet again. It just keeps coming. When you said arguing was a waste of energy, crying isn't, that's certain.

"y/n."

"No, Yunho. I need you to spit out every fucking insult you could. Am I fat? Am I too ugly? Short? Do I not have dreams? Passions? Hobbies that don't align with yours? Boastful? Hard-headed? A pain in your fucking ass? Do tell, Yunho. 'Cause I'm about to lose my mind."

"Y/n..."

"I need any! Any fucking reason why you're breaking up with me and giving up on me, Yunho. I'd take on anything you're going to say and believe it and go on with my fucked up life because if not, Yunho..." You sigh, all the emotions mixing as you burst out crying. If it weren't for the raindrops in the background, and the low volume of jazz playing against the four walls of the cafe, you would've been all over the place to prove Yunho a point. "Even if my life turns upside down and you have shitty timing trying to break up with me, Yunho, I'd wait. If you don't say anything right now, I'd wait until the world fucking blows up."

Yunho only looks at you with so much he can give— guilt, a hint of regret, and a lot of sympathy you didn't need.

What you needed was him, his presence, even if he only stood still beside you all throughout, you knew you'd cope.

He was your lifeline, after all.

"Because I love you like that, Yunho. I don't know about you but I know myself and what I gave and what more I can give. So for you to give up on me just because I'm a fucking mess right now and I don't know about you is... shit."

Yunho stays like that, staring at you. Without an ounce of hope for the both of you, obviously.

Eyes of the one who had already long given up on the both of you. Eyes of the one who held nothing of love toward the lady wo cried a river in front of him, who begged him to stay during the lowest part of her life.

"I'm sorry, y/n." Yet he can't bear to hurt you more than you were already hurting. Even if he says every single insult in his vocabulary, he knows you know he wouldn't mean it. He knows that you know he just, as it is, purely, gave up on the both of you because it wasn't working at all between the both of you, right now, an untimely case.

He stands up unhesitatingly, leaving you an umbrella at the side of the table. He mumbles another apology as he takes a step back from your crying figure, finally accepting your fate as you stare out the window rather than seeing him off.

"I wish you well, y/n. I really do. I'm sorry that I can't be... the one." Yunho is a fucking coward. He just is— as he turns his back towards you, with tears finally, without a shame, pour out of his eyes. He can't let you see that side of him as he scurries out of the cafe, to his car in front of the window you longingly stared at.

When he looks back, you were sobbing your life out covered in your hands, and that's when the excruciating pain hit him. He had to clutch his chest to try and lessen the pain.

The pain he had caused. All he wanted to do was run back and engulf you in his arms, but... here we are. The cowardly Jeong Yunho.

Because he left, after all.

[aph-mable]

Dp x MHA prompt/story; ghostly child.

Okay so this idea been turning in my head for most of the day so I'm going to try to write this, anyone is free to add to it too.

Main plot is this; Danny is on the run from the GIW, being injured enough to cause him to de-age to around 6-7 years old. Same power strength and mind, but suffering from pretty bad injuries such as dissection, and having a lightning scar on his arm from the accident, others are from dealing with the other ghosts.

Danny does try to survive by himself, mainly useing the tricks and abilities he learned from his rouges, mostly doing the bare minimum to get by like steal food and clothes, sometimes kick bad guys to the curb but mostly keeps to himself.

He is in the MHA because during his escape he ended up creating a portal, while doing so he was begging for safety and to finally be accepted, the infinite realms awnsered by placing him a universe of heros, though it takes Danny some time to realize that.

Now with that established time to try and start the story, (though writing this while a bit tired)

___________________________________

.

Danny's bare feet echoed as he ran through the rain storm, it made his body shiver yet he kept pushing through as his medical gown was almost causing him to trip due to it being a size a bit to big.

Yet it didn't matter to the young boy as he ran through the dark streets and alleyways, the pitch blackness of the night helped cover his tracks as he pushed his body forward.

All Danny knew was he needed to run, get away from the men in snow white suits, or else his blood will be splattered again.

No, no, that can't happen again, they had already cut Danny's body over a thousand times that he worried if there was anything human left of him.

His hair was already permanently white, his eyes now a sickly green that shined like spot lights in the dark, he even lost the real need to breath which was the only reason he hasn't collapsed yet.

The sickly young boy only stopped running when he slammed into a trash can, causing him to fall over and cry out in pain as his hands and knees bleed out a toxic red and green.

Painful sobs escaped his mouth as he culled up behind a dumpster, useing what little shelter from the pouring rain.

Finally unable to go any further Danny passes out, coughing now and then as he falls into a restless sleep.

--------------------------------------------

The sounds of birds chipping and passing by cars woke up Danny as the sunrise peeked though the clouds.

Rubbing his eyes and sticking to the shadows Danny crawled from his hiding spot to see where he even was, everything felt so much bigger then they used to be and it was kind of scary.

When Danny peeked around the corner what he saw made his eyes widen.

People and humanoid creatures walked the streets, drove in cars, and chatted away like there wasn't a problem in the world, living their lives without a care around them.

How long was Danny locked up? How far has the world move on that both human amd supernaturals could live together without fear? Would he be accepted for once or rejected again and hunted?

Too many questions filled the young halfa's mind, he needed to get away from the crowds and find some where safe, after all the Guys In White was most likely still looking for him.

Backing away further into the shadows Danny took twisting turns and back paths just to try and stay hidden. Ducking behind whatever he could find like a scared beast whenever a loud or sudden noise happened.

After hours of wondering the streets a painful growl came from Danny's stomach, reminding him that he was still human enough to need food, real food, not just literal trash.

Grumbling Danny went looking for an out of way convince store or small food shop, knowing full well he will have to steal from it. He would possibly go to a bigger food chain that wouldn't care as much about a few missing items, but Danny was still scared of being seen by too many people.

Finally finding a shop that was out of the way and didn't seem to have even a customer inside it Danny took his chance.

Pulling at his core and useing what energy he had, turned himself invisible and intangible as he walked right through the door.

Moving quickly he grabbed what his tiny arms could hold, which was a water bottle and twi pre made sandwiches.

Looking at the check out counter he could see a very tired looking young lady with stripes and long fangs, looking close to a wearcat, bored out of her mind. Werid words and colorful posters sounded her like some kind of ads.

Seeing he wasn't noticed yet Danny bolted for the door.

His invisibility slipped just as he passed the store clerk, leaving her only a sight of a small white haired boy in a werid gown phasing though the doors. It took only a second to make her realize he was running with unpaid store items.

Danny could hear distant yelling as he booked it back to the darkness of the alleyways, catching a few other people's attention but escaping.

Once sure no one was chasing him, Danny wolfed down his sandwiches and downed the water. Ancients, he hadn't even eaten or even got a proper drink like that in ages, tye most he gotten was the bare minimum to keep him alive.

Now a bit more fulied and a clearer mind Danny was planning his next move, which was finding a place to well, live in. A place to hide away from and maybe make his new haunt if it stays a good spot.

As he dusted himself off a near by broken mirror caught his eye. Moving forward Danny could see himself for the first time in a long while... it was a bit distressing.

Standing in the reflection was a young boy no older then 7, with snow white hair that was long and tangled with ectoplasm abd blood, wearing an oversized medical gown that was torn at the bottom, showing his recent knee injuries and barely hiding his lightning scar and others. Lime green eyes stared back at him as tears were rolling down his crumb covered face.

Not wanting to look at the monster in the mirror any longer, Danny matched forward in hopes to find an abounded building close by so he wouldn't have to pass out on the streets again.

----------------------------------------------

An unknown amount of weeks passed by, during that time Danny had found an old shack not to far off from a small stream and bridge.

From there he stole the odd blanket or clothing that were left in the wind to dry, making a nest withing the rotting boards. Danny manged to get his hands on a few shirts and shorts that would fit his smaller body better, yet kept the bloodied hospital gown, mostly as a way to cover up a big hole in the wall.

During his raids to get resources Danny did get spotted many more times, especially when trying to snach food, but so far hasn't been chased further then a block or two.

Danny had quickly found out two major factors of this new place; firstly he couldn't read anything, everything looked like werid squiggles and lines, that might be due to him not being good at reading in the first place or the fact he only knew how to read/write ghost since that's what he did to pass the time. Secondly was there were heros and villains, and he wasn't sure who he was more scared of.

Heros were easy to spot since they wore costumes and announced themselves, villains were more subtle most of the time until they start causing trouble.

Danny had a few run in with the latter, mostly just jerks who think a kid would be an easy target. They were proven wrong quickly when Danny knocked them out by barely trying and dragging them to what he thought was a police station.

Heros were much more tricky, Danny mainly blots whenever he sees any, same with police in person, because what if they worked with the GIW? What would happen if they find out Danny was nothing but an abomination, a crime against life and death.

He wasn't going to risk it.

Yet unaware to Danny due to his adventures he had been spotted multiple times by civilian and a few heros too, one or two may have caught a picture of him back when he was still in his medical gown. And with him naturally running whenever a hero was spotted things were getting suspicious.

Heros and officers were alerted to the presents of a young boy who's case was looking scarily similar to another.

Which lead to Danny's main problem now...

He keeps getting chased by heroes!

Danny mostly avoids them by phasing thorough buildings but it was getting annoying. He started to use his intangiblity, floating, and ice abilities more, he didn't use his ecto blasts since he didn't want to cause that much harm. So far he's been stalked and chased by a werid guy made out of wood, a cowboy, and a rabbit lady just this week! That's not counting the police trying to corner him.

The only ones now that weren't giving him any trouble were normal people and the odd villan.

All Danny wanted to do is eat a good sandwich and maybe relax a bit.

_____________________________________

Going to stop here for tonight but might add more later, any suggestions on how to make this story better is appreciated too.

[eri-pl]

Silm reread 20: the Rains of Casaremírë (AKA: the Fall of Doriath)

Morgoth is not tired being evil. Or satisfied. Generally he won't chill out. Also, he hates Melian&Thingol especially (but this text is from the Grey Annals. the Annals of Aman put Turgon as "Morgoth's main problem"). So, he directs Húrin at them.

Hurin is suspicious of being freed (good thinking!), but what can he do? Nothing. He leaves. Also, he is let out with a sword, which is… making sure that nobody will trust him and everyone will assume he is a thrall. Also, Morgoth's minions respect him.

[Ugh, this must have been really weird for Húrin. The self-doubt. Am I a thrall unknowingly?]

He is not, but he is followed. So, Gondolin. Turgon is doubtful at Thorondor. He changes his mind but too late, Húrin leaves. Oh, and he curses this area. (Yes, I will bold each time someone curses)

Morwen dies, depression and despair, he blames everyone.

A reference to a "seer and harper from Brethil". So, Men do have seers. I mean, I knew they do because Adanel iirc… but this wasn't fully canon… also that one prophecy is stupid and I will keep complaining about it…

Also, a mention of "the days of the wrath of the Valar" reshaping the shores, so the War of Wrath was named after the Valar's wrath? Who weren't even there personally? Huh.

Húrin kills Mîm, at the gate of Nargothrond. Interesting. Also, it is said that it's public knowledge who betrayed Túrin, so — oh wait. No. He knows that from Morgoth, not from gossip. OK. So I still have no idea whether Túrin knew.

Thingollo is polite and respectful, but Húrin offends him and accuses him of causing Finrod's death (he's not completely wrong) and of mistreating his wife and daughter + throws at him the Casaremírë (Nauglamir).

Thingollo is still polite and takes the offense calmly and kindly. <3

Melian dispells Morgoth's magic on Húrin, and he apologizes.

And gives the necklace to Thingollo anyway. Which ends up being a bad idea. Also, it wasn't his to give. the dragon stole it from Orodreth, Mîm stole it again, and Húrin, whose son had owed money to Mîm (because of his promise of weregild. And yes, I think this makes it … not more evil as a choice, because Húrin did not know, but more impactful, more problematic metaphysically) killed Mîm and stole it again.

And Thingollo (who knew Finrod and tbh should feel a little guilty about his death) instead of starting to think "hmm, who should inherit after Finrod now?" takes it. Which may be a culture thing tbh. It is medieval-ish-something world. You don't disrespect gifts by giving them away, you just take them. Maybe. I'm not an expert.

Still, he could have at least talked to Húrin about "you know, Finrod's family…". BTW is there any left? Orodreth dead, Finduilas dead…. Gil-Galad if he is Orodreth's son. Galadriel! OK, so there was someone.

Húrin allegedly maybe threw himself in the sea. Anyway he is out of our scope, one way or another.

So… It comes into Thingollo's mind to join two problematic pieces of treasure (a dragon-tainted, stolen necklace and a Silmaril) into one. Also, the Silmaril grows precious to him—

OK, sidenote. The Silmarils are not evil, but clearly they are too much for almost everyone. People either grow obsessed or die quickly. But not all people. Earendil surely didn't. I guess it depends on personality (the obsession) and on fate-type (the dying).

So, he can not keep it in the deepest part of his treasury anymore— wait, what? You kept the gem in a cage too? Silmarils need proper enviroment, they need light and space and enrichment! Thingollo, you are as bad as a Silmaril owner as Feanáro!

OK, I already made a post on this.

The Dwarves. They too get super obsessed and want the stuff: both the necklace made by their ancestors and the Silmaril. But they keep it in secret.

They finish their work, it's beautiful, another sort-of-confirmation that the Silmaril's own light is white (it reflecting in gems into various colors make it even more beautiful. So. It doesn't have many colors on its own.)

The Dwarves finally talk to Thingol, but not honestly, he realizes that they want the gem, gets overwhelmed by emotions (I imagine Thingol having a switch in his brain: "be polite to Men" <-> "be polite to Dwarves" but he can't do both for some reason and switching it takes a long time) and he mocks them. He provokes them, they are greedy, everyone is emotionally disregulated and should go have some quiet time, they kill him and escape with the treasure.

We get an epitaph for Thingollo, canon confirmation that marrying Maiar is not a thing (except Thingol) and the last thing he looks at before death is the Silmaril.

I have a feeling that Námo will have some words to tell you, my guy. Not as many as to others, but still. Not great.

Anyway, Elves chase the Dwarves and kill most of them, the Dwarves tell a not-entirely-false-but-not-too-true-either story of what happenned to their kinsmen, they go to war.

Melian meditates, we get a flashback. She knows Doriath will soon fall, because the Girdle is now gone, because… ok, let's start this from the beginning.

So this is really cool but also pretty unique in terms of fantasy tropes. When Melian married Thingol, she accepted... ok, I need this in English.

For Melian was of the divine race of the Valar, [...] for love of Elwë Singollo she took upon herself the form of the Elder Children of Ilúvatar, and in that union she became bound by the chain and trammels of the flesh of Arda.

So the marriage is what's tying her to her material form (she had taken it at will back then but now, with Valinor being closed and all that I feeel like she normaly wouldn't be able to do it in ME, she was only able to be there embodied because the marriage to Thingol sort of anchored her)

In that form she bore to him Lúthien Tinúviel; and in that form she gained a power over the substance of Arda, and by the Girdle of Melian was Doriath defended through long ages from the evils without. But now Thingol lay dead, and his spirit had passed to the halls of Mandos; and with his death a change came also upon Melian.

So. Only the fact of being anchored to matter gave her the ability to keep the Girdle up. I know some Maiar can do things with matter anyway, but as I said, I suppose it's either a) because they're evil and/or b) because a Vala let them do it … in general, they are bound by something. And regardless of how the other Maiar do it, Melian lost the ability to keep the Girdle.

Thus it came to pass that her power was withdrawn in that time from the forests of Neldoreth and Region, and Esgalduin the enchanted river spoke with a different voice, and Doriath lay open to its enemies.

[Thank you, Reddit, for having all the quotes I need!]

Again, the "it came to pass" strongly suggests to me that it's not something she did, it's something that happenned to her as part of her nature.

Also, she removes herself, and goes to mourn in Lorien and is out of the story. (I'm sure they get back togetherwhen Thingol was reembodied — and that he was— and no matter how the canon feels about this I want them to have more children, who just live in Valinor in this slightly odd social position of "not a Maia but not fully not-a-Maia" and genrally have some happiness and low-stakes family drama)

The Dwarves invade, all Doriath is confused, Mablung dies protecting the Silmaril (still, he seems quite normal about it for someone who touched it twice).

Also "it's the saddest of all sad events of the Old Days" — seriously, Grey Annals? Again, for AoA it would be Tears Unnumbered. I should enjoy the diversity of opinions in the text. But I don't. It sounds like the authors are arguing with each other.

Dior and Nimloth mentioned, but that's all. On one hand, we were told that B&L never spoke to the living after their reembodiment. On the other, they do have a son and, it seems, a company. Who raised Dior? Like, who spoke with him?

Is it silent spooky B&L surrounded by a company of Elves who behave normally? Or do they live separately, in a distance and gave dior to be taught bu the Elves who live on this island, but separately from them? I can't imagine it.

Or is the "spoke to no one" thing just poetic exageration?

Hmm.. in chapter 20 only Beren is mentioned and it says "no mortal spoke to him" which may mean just Men. I'm not sure. Anyway this is weird and seems somwhat incoherent.

Anyway, the news spread quickly in the forest (how? Mycoryzal networks?) so Beren learns more or less what happenned and he and Dior go to the rescue (such is the wording in my book. So I guess they assumed there Dwarves were still attacking someone or intending to. Makes sense.) A big group of Green Elves joins them.

They ambush the Dwarves (Huh. Ambush. When Nargothrond did it, it was dishonorable... Huh. I think there is a lot in this story remaining from the older versions, back when the Dwarves were evil, or at least evil-ish and not deserving the full human Eruhini rights. Because technically they are not. Anyway. I do not like the inconsistent attitude about ambushes.) Also, the Ents help them. So i guess it is a good fight or at least Yavanna supports it (could you, please, respect your husband's children a bit more?), or at least the trees think Beren is cool.

This is weird. And seems off. And I will assume it is a part of text that Tolkien didn't fully update to the last version of his lore.

Beren killd Dwarf king (chieftain? whatever we call him), the king curses the whole Doriath treasure.

Aaaaand Beren looks at Feanor's gem with fascination. Here we go again. And washes it clean of blood in the river. (I considered adding a RoP gif here but let's not slabder Beren. still, bad vibe.)

At least he's got enough common sense to drown the rest of the treasure. But not this one. (A pity. Feanorians would fish it out, Deagol&Smeagol-style and be happy. Or something.)

He brings the Casaremírë+Silmaril to Lúthien, and she's so pretty in it. And amazing. And the land is fertile and full of light and looks like Valinor.

So…. why do they keep the Silmaril? For Beren, I think it's the standard "it's pretty, Luthien has suffered so much [chose mortal life and all that], she deserves it". Or maybe even "I deserve some beauty for all my pain", but i don't think he goes this low. It's just … slightly less than perfect attitude. "My loved ones deserve some beauty after all they suffered so I am going to give it to them". Also, why would he want to give it to Feanorians, who tried to kill him and threatened Thingol. (And fought a really bad battle but whatever)

No matter how much you love the Feanorians, please remember that this is a simple forest guy, ok, taught by the Sindar, but still. He probably knows nothing about the Oath, never met the Feanorians, has no idea of their mental state and their anguish, and not necessarily internalizes the whole "they are fighting Morgoth and dying on it" part.

Characters do have limited knowledge and did not read the book.

But… yes, I think him taking the jewel was not the best choice.

Lúthien? That's trickier. I think if she knew how much it means for the Feanorians, she would give it to them, because look how she told Beren to not kill Celegorm (or was that Curufin?). So either she knows that Silmaril+Feanorians = bad idea, for some reason (from Melian. Because foresight. But this would require Melian's foresight to change its opinion on the matter at some point, which we have no information about).

Maybe she just trusted that Beren knows what he's doing and didn't want to refuse his gift? And she had no idea how this looks for the Feanorians (remember, very likely nobody knows about the Oath, and it seems like the Feanorians told Thingol "it is ours" and "we will consider you our enemy" as their only reasons).

Melian advised Thingol to give the Silmaril back, but was Lúthien even present at this conversation? Or if she was, maybe her own foresight told her that this advice applied to Thingol then but not to her now?

Seriously, with how Lúthien is presented, I can't imagine her keeping the Silmaril if she believed that that Melian would advise against it or how much it means for the Feanorians. She seems to me a very compassionate person, and one who cares about her mothers opinions.

On the other hand, is Lúthien wearing the Silmaril such a bad thing? It came from Beren's not-great decision, but with how it's written, I don't think it's unilaterally bad. The Feanorians do not have a problem with it, or at least do not attack her (out of fear), the land is beautiful and sure this sounds egoistical, but maybe a brief moment of bliss was necessary? The Silmaril spent many years with Morgoth, then in Thingollo's treasury (why do they all keep them locked?!? i have thoughts about it. anyway) and is now sad. Yes, they do canonically have feelings. I don't think it's corrupted, but it is sad. Maybe it needs to recharge, before it will be able to become the star of hope.

I have no idea but I think like this year should contribute something positive. Otherwise the story feels odd and incoherent again. Or, at beast, feels like Tolkien … I'm not sure how to phrase it. Very slightly betrayed his story for a moment of nostalgia? The thing that the Valar did when they made Valinor. Settled for a known happiness of the past over … something? unknown?

OK, end of very speculatory ramblings, back to the reading.

And this is the moment when Dior decides to leave his parents. I think he wants to help the Elves in Doriath organize and rebuild. He is their king, after all. Still it's an interesting contrast: the island becomes a paradise and Dior leaves. I think it speaks well of him. He goes to work, putting duty above "mom pretty with shiny rock". And he restores Doriath successfully.

He gets the Silmaril, looks at it for a long time (unclear if this is bad looking or normal looking), mourns his parents, then puts on the necklace and becomes the most beautiful guy ever, even counting the Maiar. (dear authors of the Grey Annals, someone would lik a talk with you. He said his name is Mairon.)

Gossip starts… How is the gossip among Elves so effective and fast, with their numbers decreased by all the wars?

Anyway gossip, and the Feanorians. (+ a confirmation that no Elf would fight Lúthien). They send messangers to Dior, who does not answer. that's weird. What is his mental process at this point? Is Dior even socialized properly?

He could say "ok, but give me some time to mourn", or "no, you jerks, you attacked my parents and now dare to make demands" or many other things, but he does not answer. (Or is it: the Polish translation strikes again)

It must have been weird. Also: poor messangers. What a stressful job. :(

Instead of thinking "maybe we should wait till he grows up more" or "maybe we should talk to him in person", C&C get the bright idea of "let's kill them all as we told Thingollo we would do!"

And so they do.

And so they die.

Both sides lose (Doriath is destroyed with only a few survivors, but the Feanorians still have zero Silmarils, but now they have 3 dead brothers), so I guess Morgoth wins, but not really, because he doesn't get this Silmaril either and this will come to bite him later.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for yelling at my mom because of incense?💭

( emoji so I can recognise my submission and this is a hella long post so be warned)

So I (16F) really hate smoke. And I mean beyond the regular hate, I mean like the moment I smell smoke I instantly become very, very angry. I'm not sure why exactly, I suspect it might be because I'm on the autism spectrum but I haven't been officially diagnosed so take this with a grain of salt. Also just to clarify, I have no lung issues which would cause me to be extra effected by smoke, it's almost entirely psychological.

My mom (50F) got into this whole spiritual circle stuff about a year ago and does meditation thingies. Involves a lot of rituals, crystals and incense. Not entirely sure the exact reason why but the important thing is this means she is lighting incense almost everyday. As a result, on most days the house smells like smoke. I have told her quite a few times to ventilate properly if she's going to use it but I feel like every time I enter the main room of the house it smells like smoke. However I can manage this by simply shutting my door to avoid getting a lungful of smoke. No, the thing that pisses me off are her "cleansing sessions." This is where she goes through the house waving an incense stick everywhere to "purify the bad spirits." This means I have absolutely nowhere in the house to escape from the smoke and often get forced outside to escape. I have tolerated these "cleansing sessions" a few times but on the most recent one, it happened to be raining extremely heavily. This meant that I was stuck. In a house FILLED with the smell of smoke.

I tried to keep myself calm for a while by ventilating the smoke from under a blanket but even then I could still smell it and it made me raging mad. So I then proceeded to stomp up to my mom and yelled at her. I said some very nasty things which I'm not proud of saying. They were very personal insults mostly pertaining to how her beliefs were bullshit and about her insecurities. We had a shouting match over it which ended in her telling me to go back to my room.

Why I think I could be the asshole here is because:

A. I could have more clearly stated beforehand that I wanted her to stop cleansing my room or at the very least she needs to turn the aircon on when she burns incense.

B. She didn't really deserve the things I said to her. She's a sensitive person and I know it probably deeply hurt her even if she didn't act like it in the moment.

C. I didn't mention it earlier but I have a brother (17M) who has athsma. He has never had any problem breathing or any complaints about my mom burning incense. If anyone would be affected by this the most it would be him and yet he doesn't care. So I feel like I just really overreacted.

Why I think I might not be the asshole here is because:

A. I have asked her before that she ventilate the house properly when she does her meditations and yet every time I can smell it. Sometimes she wont even open the windows so I have to do it myself.

B. She knows how much I dislike the smell of smoke. I have said multiple times how I hate it and every time I have smelt it in the house I've been very obviously annoyed. There was even once incident where our neighbours were having a bonfire and I literally could not sleep in my room because I could smell smoke and had to sleep on the couch. Every time she's done one of these "spiritual cleansings" I have also made it abundantly clear how much I hate this but she doesn't seem to care because it usually forces me outside.

C. As before mentioned, my brother has athsma. While it may not seem like it bothers him I don't know what the long term consequences may be for his lungs. And for my lungs too! Like, I'm not an expert but I don't think regularly breathing in smoke is very good for you. She argues it's "real natural smoke" so it's fine and I told her she should try breathing near a wildfire to see how she liked "real natural smoke."

Anyways, with all these facts considered, random strangers on the internet, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[pianocat939]

I'm kinda not feeling any creativity going through, so have this instead. Also, disclaimer, both parties are undefined in both name and gender so if the pronouns get confusing, I apologize.

Have some Blind Yan because I have no creative juice

Tw: murder (not super descriptive), entrapment, implications of abandonment or disowning of (not MC),

Additional disclaimer: This is an accurate depiction of a certain type of blindness, specifically someone who retains a small amount of their vision. (And I can say accurate because one of my parents is blind so aha- you can't tell me it's wrong.)

Imagine MC being like a fugitive, literally running away for some kind of crime.

And of course, they encounter some terrible weather on their never ending journey. So their miserable selves end up trying to look for a shelter. (It’s giving “food for the poor”)

They find a fairly-sized mansion on the outskirts of a town. It’s so dead and silent, they assume it was abandoned. Even if the mansion seemed so exquisite.

It’s quite dim. They notice the mansion is spotless, with not a single problem in the building at all. Until they notice a lit room down the hall.

Usually they would never approach any possible humans, but in that moment, the curiosity was too much.

In that said lit room, is a person sitting in a chair. Seemingly a library full of…odd books. Books without a proper cover, and held together by rings.

They notice the person is reading…with their fingers. Sliding their fingertips across each line.

MC realizes that the person is blind. Of course, given their current state, they’re going to take advantage of that. Just as they were stepping away from the door frame, a sudden thunder crackles, causing them to flinch and lightly bump into the wall.

Well shit.

“Hello? Is someone here?”

MC is frozen. The person stands up, their arms stretched outwards as they guided themselves through the doorway. A bit faster than MC would have liked.

MC is quick to speed walk away, until the person speaks once more.

“You’ll get sick if you go back out there. You should stay while you’re here…Even just for a few hours.”

MC paused. Does this person not fear the possible dangers? They don’t even know a fugitive is within their home.

.

.

.

And so MC finds themselves drinking tea with this blind one. Oddly not minding their little rambles.

It doesn’t surprise MC that the mansion was bought by their parents. No wonder there were so many expensive braille books. But they found it odd not a single helper was around.

"Oh I only have a cleaner come around twice a week. Everything else is managed by me."

After a few hours, the rain didn't stop at all. If anything, it got worse. MC was deciding whether or not to just suffer through the shivering wetness. Just as they were about to excuse themselves, the blind one stops them, standing up from their chair to face them...Well, trying to.

"Don't leave, just stay. You could get terribly sick from the cold.'

MC just books it. They have nowhere better to go anyway. They reveal a bit about themselves, who they were really. Except saying "wanderer" instead of fugitive. The government can't catch this fucker yet-

In the morning, the rain has stopped. MC was not only woken up by the blind one, but served a plate of food as well. Surprisingly not burnt or too much salt. It looked like a typical dish that anybody could make.

Before MC could even repack their things to leave, the blind one asks, almost begging for them to stay. It seems the loneliness bothers this person. MC is hesitant, but decides to stay.

Over the days, MC notices something. The blind one always seems to be shuffling close by, every spoken word from them making the blind one to smile and hesitantly approach in the direction of sound. It seems the person is a lot more clingy than one would assume.

They are a little amazed the blind one is able to live mostly on their own, even recognizing the light or dark spaces. Even if their movements are hesitant.

.

.

.

Ah but inevitably, the government comes knocking on the mansion door. They're quick to panic, packing up everything they could and about to bolt- until they hear a strangled scream.

They know they should run, but curiosity and maybe even worry for the blind one is too overpowering. They glance down the stairs, and witness something all too shocking.

There's three bloody bodies, their black suits tainted with a slight red. Stab wounds and ripped shirts accompanying the already horrifying scene. In the middle, stands the blind one, huffing a little. They held a kitchen knife in hand. The blind one looks around, outstretching their arms in front of them, stepping forward slowly.

"Dearie? Where are you? No need to run off now, those intruders are gone."

MC, horrified and literally so confused, tries to open the door- but it’s completely locked. Someone hugs them so tight from behind, the bloodied knife still in their hands. MC is more terrified than the time they committed crime all those months ago.

"Don't go. Don't leave me. I made sure they'll never find you. I'm useful, right?" The blind one's voice is desperate, as if they were about to cry. They drop the knife, pinging against the marble floor. "I know I can't see- but I can still do most things just fine. Don't throw me away like everyone else, don't coup me up in this cage like they did. You can stay, and I can pardon your crime."

Tears started to flow from their eyes, as they clutch MC's clothes tightly, their nails digging into the fabric. "Just stay with me. I don't want to be alone and broken anymore. I'm not helpless."

The blind one can cook, cook well it seemed.

-

(I felt like doing a bit of angst and a tiny sprinkle of violence. Bro having both parties with undefined gender or names is HARD to write. But then again this was like last minute scramble typing)

- Celina

[thelampisaflashlight]

Pick Me Up pt. 1

[Semi-based on this little comic I did a year ago that people have been reblogging again recently. Dew hurts his back during practice, and Rain is a lot stronger than he looks.] Below the cut.

Despite what others might tell you, Dew has never found his height to be an issue while living on the surface. In fact, he rather likes the size of his vessel; Not quite so small that he is inconvenienced by it, and not so tall that his back need be kept perpetually hunched over indoors.

Sure, he wishes he was a little taller, maybe an inch... or four... so he didn't look so incredibly petit beside the other male ghouls, but it's fine.

He's fine.

Doesn't have a complex about it at all.

It's not like he's laid awake comparing himself to them.

Wondering what it would be like to be as towering as Mountain, as sturdy as Aether, or as balanced as Swiss.

No, never.

...Okay, maybe sometimes.

Most of the time.

Every day.

The only other person he's ever shared this particular insecurity with is Cumulus, because she gets it.

But while the ghoulette's height, or lack thereof, is seen as endearing or cute... Dew's has, historically speaking, been parsed as weakness.

How often had the other ghouls in his pack back in the pit looked at him with pity for being so small?

He'd been a good hunter, a provider, a hard worker... but that was never enough to earn their respect.

Among ghouls, even if you can walk the walk and talk the talk, if there's something about you that makes you seem weaker in the eyes of the pack leader, that's it; You are weak.

"Your mother was small." his father told him one day as he bundled him up in furs -For the lowest levels of Hell are a frozen wasteland, so cold that it burns- looking at him with gentle eyes, "But she was not weak. You are not weak. No matter what Princeps says, you are strong."

So why...

Dew feels something in his back pop.

The others must hear it, too, the way their heads all pivot to look at him.

Or maybe it's the sound of his instrument hitting the floor that draws their attention first.

Any which way-

"Are you okay??" Aeon squeaks from nearby, and, Satanas, Dew wants to disappear.

Instead, though, he stands there, hunched over for a moment as he tries to process what just happened.

His spine screams at him as he straightens it out, eliciting another loud pop, this time slotting whatever fell out of place back in, and then right back out.

The groan that escapes his body is entirely involuntary, and laced with pain.

Someone else is asking what's wrong now, but Dew ignores them in favor of gripping the railing of the practice stage and pinching his eyes shut as his back gives an audible click.

There's a collective hiss at the sound, and Dew decides that continuing to stand around like this isn't doing him any favors, so he eases himself down the railing, first to sit, and then down further, forcing his back to lay flat against the ground.

The bright overhead lights shine in his face, so he throws an arm over his eyes, the other coming to rest on his chest as he shifts his legs around.

"You good, Smokey?" Swiss asks, now looming over him, hands on his knees, "You're kind of scaring us, bud..."

"...m' fuckin' back's out..." Dew mutters through clenched teeth, "Get Aether."

Swiss' brow creases, "Shit, dude. Okay, okay... Thing One and Thing Two, go find Aether!"

Aeon and Aurora chirp in indignation at being called "Things" but an irritated croak from somewhere in the room has them headed out the door.

"How'd this even happen??" Rain wonders, appearing beside Swiss, looking down at Dew, worried.

Dew says nothing, because honestly even he isn't sure exactly what happened.

He thinks, maybe, he twisted when he should have turned, and something about the motion pulled something out of place during his usual back bend, not enough to cause problems on the way down, but the on the way back up...

"...I'm a fucking idiot." Dew winces, trying to sit up and failing miserably.

"Hey, hey, just stay still." Rain frets, "It's okay, you'll be okay."

"Goddd..." Dew groans.

"Oooohh... You know he's in pain if he's swearing like that." Swiss cringes.

.

.

.

Two weeks.

Two. Fucking. Weeks.

"It could be fine in a couple days, but I don't want you to push yourself." Aether had said while looking him over in the infirmary, "I can treat the pain, but the rest has to heal on its own."

"Let me die then." Dew had hisses as the older quintessence ghoul massaged along his spine.

"You're not going to die, Dew."

"Kill me then."

"Dew."

It's been three days now, and Dew's back is still bothering him.

He can't even get out of bed to use the bathroom without having to tell someone first for fear that he might have a spasm and fall over and hurt himself if left alone.

"Is taking it easy really that hard?" Rain scolds him after the water ghoul finds him sprawled out on the ground on his belly, having tried -and clearly failed- to go back to his usual routine despite his back creaking at him ominously, "You're injured, you need to lay down and rest!"

"I'm bored as shit!" Dew hisses, face half pressed into the carpet, unable to lift himself.

Rain crouches down and helps him, slowly, onto his feet, "You could always watch something on your laptop, or maybe read a book?"

"I already-"

Dew pauses and makes a face as Rain maneuvers him back onto the bed, rearranging his limbs around with ease.

"What?"

"Nothing." Dew settles against the pillows.

"You clearly have something on your mind." Rain says, crossing his arms, "Better to get it off your chest now than to stew in it."

"Do I weigh... like... nothing to you?"

Rain blinks.

"I mean, no, but..." he shrugs, "You're not too heavy, I guess?"

"...huh."

"Whatcha thinkin'?"

"If I... You think you could carry me to the living room?" Dew questions, watching Rain's brown curls bounce to the side as he tilts his head, "Could you carry me to the living room so I can watch TV? ...Please?"

"Will you stay put if I lay you down on the couch?" Rain asks, already leaning down to scoop the ghoul up.

"Sure, sure, just get me out of this place and I'll do whatever you say."

"I'm holding you to that." Rain sniffs, carefully lifting Dew up into his arms, and... Huh.

Dew isn't sure why, but there's something about being held like this that feels...

"Comfortable?"

Good.

"'s'not so bad."

Rain hums and carries him out of his room, stopping to pocket Dew's phone on the way out.

"Just in case."

The walk from the dorms to the ghouls' common area isn't that long, but Dew kind of wishes it was, if only so he could stay in Rain's arms a little longer.

Speaking of...

From this angle, Dew pretty much has no choice but to stare at the side of the ghoul's face.

He's never really thought about it before, but Rain's profile is really nice, and his nose is... would it be weird to say it's cute?

It's definitely on the larger side, but that's not a bad thing, in fact he thinks it makes some of his more delicate features a bit more balanced.

While he's lost in thought thinking about how weirdly handsome Rain is, the ghoul in question turns to look at him, grinning, "Something wrong?"

"Did you know noses are the dicks of the face?" Dew blurts and-

"Huh?"

-Oh fuck why did he say that??

[cerise-angel]

West coast

Steve Harrington x fem!reader 18+ smut; smoking and drinking

Kind of a singer!au? (Omg Djo hi!!!) Heavily, if not totally, inspired by the song west coast and the ultraviolence album. Just saw the pictures above, while listening and yeah, this is it. Hope you guys enjoy it! Let me know what you guys think 💘💕😖 (if i have the guts and time, maybe i will do one for each song of the album) Emotional smut ❤️😭🥵 Also this is my first smut, sorry if its not that juicy..... English is not my first language, sorry for any grammar mistakes/mispelling.

The night was hot and humid, the wind blowing relentlessly, boiling a summer storm with it. Even so, the small restaurant was almost full, pretty much all the tables taken, the dim lightning focusing on the small stage. Not that people seemed to be paying much attention to the man singing. You were though.

Sitting beside the bar in a tall chair, you ordered another Jack n Coke to the bartender, who seemed much happier to bring you more alcohol. "This was supposed to be fun." You thought to yourself, sighing. It was your vacation after all, and you decided to come down to south California, staying in a fancy resort.

Felt was nice, but lonely, it had started to bother you, bubbling in your chest, that same feeling of fear and relief of being alone, which usually ended up in tears or in the best peace you've ever known. The pretty singer seemed to be as frustrated as you. You focused on him, the way his hands played the guitar, his shirt opened until the fourth button, leaving out a sight of his chest and the gold chain resting against it. He stopped playing for a break, receiving a light but sure round of applause. He brought his drink to his lips, and locked eyes with you.

The way you were staring at him, as if he was good enough to eat, made him cock an eyebrow at you, which caused you to choke and spill your drink. He smiled, chuckling lightly, and even though you were embarrassed and tipsy, you couldn't stop looking at him. He started playing back, and you decided to head out of the restaurant, too ashamed for your own good.

Grabbing your phone, while sitting in one of the iron wired chairs outside, you texted your friend.

just embarrassed myself in front of the cute singer. that's why i hate gemini season.

You attached a funny selfie of you, making a fake crying face, and pressed send. Sighing yet again, you looked up at the dark skies, very cloudy, the smell of rain creeping from the grounds. It was going to rain very soon, but you really didn't care. It was fucking hot, your dress clinging to your body, your body getting damp with sweat. A cold rain would do good.

Contemplating your options, you settled for finishing your drink, and asking one more to the waiter that passed by. Surely time had passed, but you didn't know the amount. The wind was blowing even angrier, bending the palm trees and knotting the swiss cheese plants around you.

Your friend finally answered your phone, at the same time your new drink came.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Looking up to what it was supposed to be the young boy who had been attending your orders the whole night, it was the said cute singer. You felt hot in the cheeks and on the back of your knees. You wished for the rain. He looked at you with a soft smile dangling on his features, a mischief burning in his eyes.

"Can I sit with you?"

You nodded, chugging down a big gulp of the whiskey mixed with soda. He sat down, not in the chair in your front, but beside you. He reached for a pack of cigarettes in his back pocket, and drank his golden rum.

"Do you have a light?"

You nodded again, picking a neon pink lighter from your small purse.

"You don't talk?"

You looked at him a little angry and embarrassed, your mouth forming a pout before you could answer. The cute singer laughed, finally lighting his cigarette.

"Just messing with you, pretty. Don't get mad."

"I'm not mad. And I do talk."

He looked at you again, his eyes burning like his cigarette. He smiled, smugly. You smiled, ironically. He kept looking at you, and the drink you had earlier and the hot weather, made you look down, at your phone. Your friend's message was still unread.

i always thought embarrassing yourself was yoour flirting tactic? lol get him tigress

You chuckled lightly, and seconds after, as if in cue, the skies opened its gates, and big drops of water started to crash against the earth. You cursed under your breath, and quickly got your stuff, shoving your phone in your purse, and grabbing the half full cup to take to your chalet with you. The cute singer got up too, offering you his light jacket, to cover your clinging dress. You took it, grabbing his hand and bringing him along with you. He stopped before you could go any further, though.

"Hey, pretty, what cabin is yours?"

"Eight."

"Why don't we get inside, wait for the rain to subside, and then we go?"

The way he kept saying we, made your blood rush, your cheeks get red, your hands get sweaty, your breath hitch. You nodded, again, and he pulled you close to his body, bringing you back to the restaurant lobby.

Strangely, his cigarette was still on fire. You probably looked at it with a weird expression, because he chuckled, the hand that was still on your waist, rubbing your sides.

"My name's Steve Harrington. But you can call me Steve, or cute singer, whichever you like, pretty."

The way this man could make you turn into a giggling high school girly who just got a wink from her crush was insane. Maybe you were insane. It was his fault though, his pretty rough hands, the slightly chapped lip rubbing the cigarette, the faint smell of ash and vanilla he had. You were feeling dizzy. Putting a hand on his biceps, you pushed a little distance between you two.

"I'm sorry for ogling at you. You just looked really nice in the stage and no one paid you enough attention."

"You don't think I look nice now?"

He had, in the most subtle way, pulled you back into his chest, his hand resting on your lower back, his eyes glinting with desire. You looked up at him, at the smug smile you wanted to just kiss off his mouth, the small freckles he had on his neck and face.

"I think you look much more than nice now."

Steve dropped the cigarette on the floor, and his other hand caged your face. His lips were on you by a mere second, tasting like rum and salt.

"The rain decreased. C'mon, pretty."

------

The rain was a drizzle now, making the hot weather much more bearable. Steve had your hand in his, his other hand holding a bottle of golden rum he had taken from the kitchen. Your cup was still in your hand, with a very watered down liquor on it.

Steve stopped, letting your hand go and giving you the bottle before lighting up another cigarette. You drank a small amount from the bottle, smiling, tipsy for him. He smiled back, puffing the smoke before kissing you again.

The chalet wasn't far, but you two were eager. Walking fast and tangled when the rain started to pour heavily again, you made to the door of the cabin, soaked and dazed.

You unlocked the door, took off your kitten heels and walked inside. Steve did the same, letting his shoes out. You went to the bedroom, grabbing a towel for him and one for you. When you got back to the kitchen/living room assemble, Steve had put some music on, and was on the balcony. You couldn't tear your eyes away, even if you wanted to.

He was swinging slowly to the song, the breeze adding more allure to his silhouette. His cigarette on fire, his hands were up, dancing in a drunk manner. You wanted to eat him. You discarded the towels in the chair, and being a little intoxicated from the alcohol, from the heat, and, mostly, from him, popped the front buttons of your dress, reveling no bra and a glimpse of your panties.

Steve has stopped dancing, his eyes glued to your lustful form. He wanted to get inside again, and take you on the small couch, but he knew better. You seemed to enjoy playing this game, and he wasn't going to end your fun. So he waited, licking his lips, and chugging down the rum.

When you got to the balcony, the wind had risen, bringing some of the rain inside it. Steve reached for you in a moment, his hands now on your ass, his hips glued to yours, swinging with him.

"What song is this?"

You asked breathlessly, only to not give in to him first. Everything about him made you lose it, and one of his hands played around your almost exposed breasts now. His head was hanging low, eyes focused on your glowing skin, and the shivers he could bring you with just a slight touch.

"No idea, honey."

He gave in first. His lips chased yours, licking, kissing, burning. Your hands were on his soft silk hair, your lips connected to his, your whole body reacting to him. Steve's hands were now in your shoulders, pulling the straps of your dress down, exposing your breasts. His kissing started to slow down, pecking your lips, your chin, your neck and finally your breasts.

You whimpered when his lips involved your nipple, his hands now resting in your waist and ass, steadying you in place. Steve looked up through hooded eyes and eyelashes, and you left a near pornographic moan at the sight. He smiled against your skin, pulled the rest of your dress off and turning you swiftly, so that your back was on display for him.

His hands played with your breasts, and he kissed your bare shoulders. You couldn't take it anymore, and started to push your hips against his, the aching lust taking the best of you. Steve fucking chuckled, putting his hands on your hips to stop you. You whined.

"Steve. Do something."

"I am doing."

You moved your hips again, turning in his embrace, locking your lips in a heated kiss. Steve's hands kept you flushed against him, his hips now moving in sync with yours. Your hand traveled down to his jeans, touching his clothed cock. Steve whined and you chuckled.

His hands did the same, going under your cotton panties, making you gasp and moan. He kissed you back immediately, keeping your sweet noises just between your two. You finally pulled his jeans and boxers down, looking at his pretty cock. Your mouth watered at the sight.

Smugly, he touched your chin, tilting your head up.

"My eyes are up here, honey."

You rolled your eyes, ready to talk him down, but his fingers pushed inside you. Steve turned on his heels, bringing you with him, so now you were pressed against the balcony fence. Softly, he tapped your leg, and you sited on top of the fence, opening your legs for him. Steve pulled your panties down, and you helped him out of his shirt. He was more eager than you, pressing himself against your pussy before the shirt was off. You kissed him again, and he kissed back softly, slowing down while his hands secured you by the waist. Slowly, Steve pushed himself inside you, making you gasp and whimper at the stretch. His mouth pecked you, easing you into it. His hands were now cupping your jaw, his breathing ragged, forehead against yours. Softly, you muttered.

"Move, baby, move, baby."

Steve gave you the prettiest smile, rocking his hips against you. You clawed at his back, your legs wrapping on his waist. Steve's mouth was back to your breasts, one of his hands squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh while the other kept caging your jaw.

"Steve. Steve, please. More."

"You-Jesus, honey, you so sweet. Fuck."

His lips kissed your mouth again, his hips keeping a tough rhythm in and out of you. Your hands were now on his hair, tugging, pulling, caressing his scalp. Steve's eyes were glued to the meeting of your bodies, the way you fitted him perfectly. He picked up the pace, faster and deeper, making you cry out in pleasure. His mouth latched to your neck, sucking, biting, kissing. You kissed his face relentlessly, lips meeting his forehead, his temple, his eyes, everything. You were close enough to hot white pleasure, and Steve seemed to notice, bringing his hand to rub your clit. Your head fell back, mouth opened, while he kept fucking you and kissing your neck and breasts.

"C'mon, honey. Come to me."

And you did. Your body felt limp, completely relaxed, your lips twitching a lazy smile. Steve slowed his pace, easing you out of your bliss. You brought your lips to his neck, and Steve whimpered, his hips stuttering against yours. You sucked the same spot, nipping gently at the soft skin. Steve pulled out, painting your thighs with his seed. He smiled, too, before kissing you again.

The kiss was gentle, slow. Steve helped you out of the fence, making sure to support your tumbling legs. You wrapped your arms on his neck, nuzzling your face in his chest.

"Shower with me?"

You asked meekly, not wanting him to leave. Steve nodded, wrapping you in a hug, following you to the bathroom. It was strange, how much you liked him. You met him in less than a day, and here you were, letting him wash your hair, and help you to apply body oil. You quite probably were insane.

Steve's skin was warm to the touch, soft and painted with freckles. You washed his back, in a retribution for him washing your hair. Steve kept you close, always touching you, kissing you. It made you feel like maybe he was liking you too. Maybe you weren't that insane.

After the shower, you clung to him again, worried that he might leave you. He smiled, reassuring you he wouldn't, pulling you on top of him in the bed. Steve pulled the duvet to cover you, and you turned the ac on. When you looked at him again, he was already looking at you. His eyes were even prettier in the small lightning, and you had to resist to urge to touch and connect the freckles on his bare chest.

Steve kissed you, and nuzzled his head in the crook of your neck, his rough hands squeezing you against his own body.

"Steve. I think, I think, I'm in love."

He looked up, his cheeks glowing pink, his eyes shining with yearning.

"Honey, I'm in love."

[cinnamonroll-anon]

Rain Drabble: Springtrap x Reader

Warnings: Fuff, Comfort, Gender Neutral

A/n: It's raining where I'm at so I'll indulge in some Springtrap Drabbles. I believe I've seen a headcanon somewhere along the lines of springtrap being afraid of thunder and with the added precaution that water would make him rust, it all blends together to make the eventful night you're experiencing.

It was all normal throughout the day, the air feeling cool and a bit humid but days like these were common in autumn. You had seen the news report on your tv that it would start raining tomorrow and would continue throughout the week. You paid little mind to it and springtrap seemed a bit relieved and so you went above your day until nighttime came. You did your nightly routine and were relaxing on your bed, springtrap was somewhere else around the house doing god knows what, until you heard the soft pitter patter of raindrops against your ceiling. An early rain you thought? You would be wrong, because not even five minutes later the rain began to pour furiously and then thunder shook your house.

Soon after springtrap had made his way to your room, panicked and breath heaving. You had asked him what was wrong and he made a poor effort to mask how he was feeling, trying to wear his signature smirk but the panic was evident in his eyes. "W-what do you mean? Everything's fine, nothing is wrong." Then a flash of light came from the window and a louder rumble came from the sky, causing him to jump, his facade replaced by a more fearful stance.

Then it clicked, he was scared shitless of thunder. It wasn't uncommon by any means, many people were scared of thunder, but he didn't seem like the kind of person to be afraid of it. Actually he didn't quite resemble much of a person now that you think about it, maybe that's why you couldn't believe he'd be afraid. He hesitantly scooted closer to you, hesitant on what to do but he probably didn't want to deal with this alone. You waved him over, softly patting your lap and he scurried over to you like a scared child.

After you got comfortable with him, his head in your lap, you softly ran your fingers through his matted fur. It seemed to help calm him down a bit, as his breathing steadied. "Sorry to bother you like this, it's not... Your problem to deal with." He told you somberly, clearly ashamed of himself, before another roll of thunder made him cling onto you. You gently pulled a blanket over him, trying to make him feel as safe as you could, your hands softly caressing his head. You began to tell him that he was alright and that fear is normal, even if it's for something so illogical sometimes, it was still valid. You would be here the whole night for him and you'd make sure that nothing bad happens to him.

The way his features softened up, he looked at you like you were his whole world. He let himself relax in your embrace, or the best he could. He'd still tense up and subconsciously grip you tighter but he definitely looked better than when he first rushed in. You began to talk to him, trying to distract him. You'd caress his ears and nuzzle into him, simply pampering him in affection, leaving him a flustered mess. You were really something special to him.

After a couple hours or so you both became sleepy. You turned off the lights before gently laying down on the bed, letting his head rest on your chest. You pulled the blanket over his head and softly placed your hands over his ears, hoping to at least muffle the thunder. He took notice and his eyes shone softly, admiring you even if you're eyes were threatening to close, you still cared for him. You would've told him you noticed his faint glow, but the teasing could wait another day.

You softly drifted off to sleep, springtrap working as a warm and fluffy weighted blanket. He didn't stay awake for very long either, the sound of your heartbeat underneath his head lulling him to sleep, even the thunder couldn't scare him now. It sounded so muffled and far in your arms, almost like magic and soon he found himself in the most comforting sleep of his life.

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