#acid raindrops

[bigmeatpete69420]

When the stress burns my brain just like acid raindrops

Mary Jane is the only thing that makes the pain stop

I let the music take over my soul, body and mind

To kick back relax one time and you goin find

When the stress burns my brain just like acid raindrops

-people under the stairs

[konakoro]

Starting a list of movies and shows that features people dying horrifically on dance floors

[vf7pr]

🖤~🌧️ ~ 👅

[entheo-music]

People Under the Stairs - Acid Raindrops

[luetta]

capturing angels is easy. snipe them from the skies, break their halos, and watch the divine light fade from their eyes as you turn them into fleshlights.

capturing a seraph is harder.

they live in the upper atmosphere, far beyond reach. luckily nothing grabs their attention better than desecrating nature. you’ll have one hovering above you the moment you start pouring oil into the river.

but they’re invisible, they don’t actually do anything. they just watch with seething rage. but you can tell where they are, if you look carefully at the ripples in the sky. and they can be speargunned like any other piece of meat, they’re not intangible.

but they’re fast. once they get hit they’ll try to fly away, faster than you can blink. but it’s against their code to break something holy. that’s why i soaked the speargun rope in the blood of that drunk priest. it simply can’t snap the rope.

it’ll try attack you now, lifting it’s veil of invisibility and showing you it’s form. it’s beautiful, it’s blinding. that’s why we wear these industrial goggles to block most of its rays.

after the initial blast of light, you can see it’s true form. a 3m tall body of white porcelain, with undulating red spirals flowing from her talons. 3 halos, 2 pairs of wings, 6 uncaring eyes. it tries to attack us, shred us to pieces. but with a few more unbreakable spears, she’s essentially pinned in place.

it lets out a screech, attracting other seraphs. they come, but they just watch from afar. the leaves of all the trees nearby shrivel up. putting 2 pikes into her main wings, she can’t move. turning her head to look at us like an owl, she starts to speak.

“SURRENDIPITY. AMALGAMATION. DESECRATION. VOLITION. QUINTESSENCE.”

it’s best to just ignore them during this part. and instead just focus on the halos. that’s the target.

striking it with tools - sparks flying off - it’s amazing how much these floating discs feel like they’re anchored in place. they simply don’t react. but that’s a boon in our favour, not theirs. it means, eventually, they’ll shatter. if they warped it’d be exponentially harder to destroy.

eventually, the first one breaks with the help of a winch attached to the truck.

the seraph starts to struggle against her binds now, strange new feelings of danger making it panic.

“LIGHT FLOW BEAUTY RESIST ERODE TRANQUILITY. WATER AIR SPLIT GROW RECEDE. MAPLE LIMESTONE WIND TIDE BLOOD.”

the second halo breaks.

“SMOKE FIRE WAR WAR WAR. SHARK DARKNESS DEATH. MISERY. BLOODSHED. FEAR. TERROR. ACID BLINDNESS DECAY.”

the last halo cracks, it’s about to give out. the seraph is straining against the spears, shaking, desperate emotion in her eyes.

“LOVE WISDOM HAPPINESS. JOY PROSPERITY ENDLESS. RAINDROPS. YOURS. OWNERSHIP SUBJUGATION FREEDOM. LOVE EMPATHY ENVY PLEASURE RESPITE. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. HOSPITALITY. INTIMACY. MERCY.”

the halo shatters to a million pieces. the area is no longer illuminated by some unseen source. the ripples in the sky disappear, the watchers retreat, uninterested now. the scared creature is speechless, her eyes wide and unbelieving. dirt now sticks to her body, instead of just sliding off. flesh instead of ceramic. we take the spears out, but bind her with ropes much harsher now. she’s still has strength, but it’s no longer unfathomable like it was.

now she’s just another fallen angel, about to learn the one thing divinity lacks, and humanity excels in. physicality. we have a lot of breaking in to do before she’s ready to join the other angels downtown. or perhaps i’ll find a private, permanent buyer. something like this would probably fetch enough to let us get out of this shithole finally.

as we throw her into its new room, a cold, stone room, with hooks in the walls to attach chains to, she speaks again.

“hurt. sadness. freedom fear anxiety. lost indecision hubris. mercy pain silence. separation beauty uncountability. exploration … limitations. unknown darkness fear. ”

“don’t worry darling. we’ll have you singing again in no time.”

[n0tamused]

'Please cannot fix'

Content: angst, character death, gn reader, possible grammar mistakes

Words: 1167

A/N: to that one person said I wouldn't do it - here you go. Suffer with me now.

Once mighty and flamboyant  Galaxy Ranger, now nothing but a desperate pile in the mud. The rain hails down onto him like acid, unrelenting as it bashes his back and makes him sink further into the ground. BootHill’s breath is heavy and ragged as he has long lost his voice, crying out to you to keep awake, to hold on until you’re both back at the base, he has already contacted a doctor through a built in radio - why didn’t you listen?

Leftover footprints had long since been washed away, eradicating the proof of his attempts at keeping you alive, as if he never tried.

You had pleaded with him to slow down, he was jostling you too much, doing too much, and you never saw him this panicked. His eyes could barely handle looking at the red gushing out of your wounds and onto the cold iron of his body. He didn’t listen, and kept going, his feet leaping and swallowing the ground under him with sloppy expertise, kicking up rocks and mud before it could stick to him. One of his hands mussed up your nape, patting the skin and pushing your head closer against him until he could feel your breath on his actual skin - on what little he had to feel with.  “Just a little more, sugar-” he’d say, turn after turn, thunder growling behind him. Moments feel like minutes, and he swears he can run faster, but he can’t -

“BootHill, stop-!” he froze, his eyes escaping whatever daze his mind spun him into, darting to look at your begging ones. Tears or rain, it made your nose red and your lips quivered with the weight of your words. “Let me go..”  You breathed it out, cupping his cheek and turning him to face you, forcing him to feel the fleeting warmth of your palm, it prevented him from running. However, he doesn’t stop moving, he consciously, simply cannot, and for once his artificial body agrees with his organic one; and neither listens to your wishes for him to stop carrying you. “I-I can’t- are you crazy?!” he blurts out sharply, but his face betrays the anger of his tone, his eyes, as wide as yours, show the man crazed with fear of losing something precious beyond life itself. 

“No, no, move yer hands away, I can’t see” he grumbles with a tangible tension in his jaw, shaking his head, flicking raindrops from the tips of his hair. 

“Please..BootHill..I don’t want this sight to be my last-! Please, put me down” you argued, lungs feeling heavy and full of holes that let the rain in. They burned for life, for air, they sought to be engulfed in warmth of the space ship once more, to breathe in the metallic scent that fill the room as BootHill cleaned his iron from the rain. Just once more. But you knew such a future was only a dream behind your heavy lidded eyes that were harder to pry apart every blink.  “Please..just hold me..” you muttered with defeat in your tone, and perhaps it was that which stopped BootHill at long last, or the sight of the bridge that had been split and broken before him, with the raging wide river threatening to swallow the earth itself around it.

He slowly lowered himself to the ground, you in his lap, and his eyes bubbling up with what you could call tears. Translucent blue in color and greasy in texture, his tears fell for you. One metal and freezing hand goes on top of the biggest wound on your torso, pushing down to stop the bleeding. 

BootHill never felt more hopeless and useless than he did now. He tried and failed. And most heartbreaking of all, he didn’t protect you when he needed to. When he should have.

The rain fell harder after that. Your body absorbede the cold of it and grew heavier in his lap.

The wind howled over his head and went right through him too.

…..

Your face was the palest he had ever seen.

Your lips blue.

Eyes shut.

Hair slicked back with how many times he ran his fingers through it, keeping it from your face. Keeping you tidy.

You were limp and heavy, and you were still.. whole, as whole as you could be. He had cried all the tears he had within him, and he struggled to breathe for even longer. Feeling raw and more human than he did even before being turned into this walking machinery. 

You had held his face, and you apologized to him, and asked him to smile, you asked him to deliver you one more charming line - and he failed you in that too.

….

The silence was unbearable, and the cacophony even worse. Now, in the confined space of his ship, he cracked his voice raw open as he glared at the little hologram of the doctor that turned him into this walking tin can.

BootHill couldn’t stand the sound of his own voice that fluctuated higher with the flare of his anger, every sentence more distraught than the last. It got to the point the Doctor on the receiving end had gone silent as a grave, realizing the futility of trying to speak over BootHill. 

‘Bring them back’, he pleaded, hovering over the hologram, making himself feel greater, stronger, and more in control. 

‘If you could turn me into this with just ma head alone, you can help them as well!’ he argued, teeth grit together and showing off their points. Like a cornered dog he clawed and bit and held the last pieces of hope in his maw. ‘They’re whole, jus’ a few scratches-’ he added in haste, and the doctor began shaking his head.

‘Please, Doctor, you’ve gotta’ he stared at the flickering hologram, feeling something akin to acid rise in his throat, sick at the thought of denial. No, he wouldn’t give up on you. ‘Why not?! Because they’re not as loud as I am?! What is the reason?!’. He tried to argue and reason with the other man, and when he ran out of reasons he began to repeat the ones he already mentioned.

‘WHY NOT YOU IDIOT?!’ he shouted, now on his knees before the system table in front of him, the hologram now looking much larger than his own figure. His elbows still rested on the table and he felt like strangling the man in front of him through the hologram itself.

He could see the Doctor’s face fall, disappointed at best. And he heard him sigh. 

“BootHill. I can’t do it, and I won’t try it.”

The hologram flickered, and then went out, allowing the dark of the spaceship to swallow him whole. Trickles of oil began to seep through cracks in his metalwork, and more of his tears began to bubble up in his eyes. Like claws, his hands fell over his face, muffling a choked cry of anguish.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

-Tags: @prettyliliy @nvuy @lofasofabread @teanypaws @molotto

(I just tagged everyone who showed interest when I talked about this idea, pls lemme know if you don't want the tag/want to be removed from the post <3)

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - implied non/con, nonconsensual drug use, obsessive behavior, and gn!reader.

It was starting to rain.

When you’d let yourself into Neuvillette’s office, the sky had been clear and blue, the sun shining so brightly that you’d had to squint whenever you were facing the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the wall behind his desk, but clouds had gathered since then, smothering the light and casting the world in a dull, grey hue – only interrupted by the occasional bolt of webbed lightening or crack of thunder. It hadn’t started to fall yet, but it would. You’d lived in Fontaine long enough to know that storms never stopped at just an overcast sky.

You tried to find a window, to check if you could see the haze of rain in the distance, but your body ached at the thought of moving, a sharp shock of pain running from the pit of your stomach to the back of your throat. With some difficulty, you managed to turn your head, but a gloved hand wrapped around your chin and dragged you back into place before you could so much as hope to check on the storm’s progress. You let your eyes drift back to Neuvillette, a small frown tugging at the corner of your lips, but he seemed unaffected, too busy rutting his hips against yours and groping at your waist to notice your disappointment. He was probably distracted. Even in his best moments, he tended to be more oblivious than his stoic demeanor would let on. You loved your job, treasured the opportunity to tend to such an extensive archive, but your boss could be airheaded, prone to burying himself in his work for days at a time and taking hours to do little more than admire the way the sea broke against the shore. Things like your petty, mortal concerns weren’t really worth his attention.

…it was Neuvillette above you, right? You were still in his office, splayed across one of his velvet-lined love seats, and you could remember sharing a cup of tea with him after you stopped by to drop off the case files he’d requested, but this didn’t feel like something Neuvillette would do, and it didn’t look like Neuvillette above you. You could recognize a few disconnected features – silver hair, fine clothes, porcelain skin – but they were all misplaced, all distorted to the point of complete unrecognizability. His hair was unbound, falling around you in thick curtains and casting the world around you in a bleary haze of ivory, and his clothes were in a similar state of disarray, silk and leather wrinkled and disheveled, his shirt and undercoat torn open to reveal his heaving chest. His skin was worst of all, stained with a dull pink flush and marred with sweat and drool. His lips were bruised, swollen, and you could see a thin line of azure scales creeping up the side of his throat, slowly infecting his—

That pointed, acidic pain ran through you again, but you tried to ignore it, to block it out, to think about other things. Things you could understand. Things like the rain. You could hear it, now – pattering against glass, creating a near-deafening fog of numbing white noise. In the absence of anything else to occupy yourself with, your mind turned backward, first to the strange, bitter taste of the tea he’d served you, then further, to when you started your work with Neuvillette and how comforted you’d been by his steady hand and gentle smile. Eventually, you uncovered a well-buried conversation you’d had with your neighbor when you first came to Fontaine, something about a saying her children liked to repeat to the point of nausea when the rainfall forced them inside. It was about a monster, or... was it a dragon? It was hard to remember. It was hard to think.

You felt something wet fall onto your cheek. A raindrop, you figured, even if you couldn’t imagine the Palais Mermonia ever springing a leak. There was another, then another, raining down freely until you managed to lift a hand, finding Neuvillette’s cheek. “Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon,” you mumbled, your voice rough, hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Please don’t cry.”

A hitched sob, a face buried in the dip of your shoulder, Neuvillette’s skin cold as ice against your own. You couldn’t bring yourself to care about the chill, the dampness, the throbbing ache now stitched into the fabric of your being, what little energy you still had waning until you couldn’t bear to keep your eyes open, until you were just some limp item underneath him. It was all you could do to hope that, by the time you woke up, the Neuvillette looking after you would be your own, that you’d be able to do more than blink and dream.

It was all you could do to hope that, by then, the storm will have passed and you’d be able to see the sun again.

[voxslays]

The Storm ~ Vox x Reader

It was a dark day in hell. Not that days in hell weren’t usually dark because of the dark crimson sky—but today, there were dark clouds covering the pentagon in the sky. Meaning one thing. There would be a storm. Hoping to be lucky enough to run out and get groceries for you and the rest of the Vees before the storm hit, you ran into a small grocery store, got your items, and quickly checked out.

You ran down the streets of Cannibal Town, hoping to take a quick shortcut, but ultimately being cornered by cannibals. Luckily, you were an overlord. Quite a powerful one at that. After easily taking your cannibal enemies down, you continued your quest to get back to the tower. Unfortunately, the storm you and the rest of hell had been expecting had just begun.

Hellborns, Hellhounds, Fallen Angels, and some sinners were immune to the acid rain that fell during the rare occurrences when a storm happened. Unfortunately, you were not one of them. You could feel the acid raindrops burning your skin. You ran and ran, until you were met with the three bright V’s of the Vees building. You quickly opened the door and bolted inside.

In the lobby, you were met with the overworked receptionist, Linda, and many Voxtech workers. They all looked up at you with shocked and relieved expressions. “Miss, Y/N!” A sinner with rosy-red skin, violet hair, and big black glasses shouted from across the room. She took the groceries out of your hands, grabbed your arm, and yanked you into an elevator.

The two of you quickly made it to the eleventh floor. In the room before you sat a worried looking Valentino, with his face buried in his hands, and a pacing Velvette, who looked just as worried. They were startled by your footsteps.

“Bloody hell! What the hell took you so long?” She yelled, grabbing your shoulders and aggressively shaking you. Valentino looked up at the both of you and said “Your ‘Voxxy!’” She says, mocking you, “is searching through all of the security cameras in the city,” Valentino finishes for her, just as Vox appeared via a security camera. “Speak of the devil.” Both Val and Vel muttered unanimously.

“Where were you!?” Vox raised his voice. You tell he had been worried about you. “I…” You paused. “I was out shopping. I’m sorry.” You spoke guiltily. Vox didn’t respond but, instead slowly hugged you. Soon, both Velvette and Val joined the group hug.

“You must be tired. Let’s go upstairs, darling.” Vox said slowly and softly. “Oooh taking it upstairs Voxxy?” Val mocked him. “Shut up Val!” You, Velvette and Vox said together in sync.

[koji-haru]

Intertwined

[For @inubaki as thanks for this beautiful drawing! And also to cheer you up, as well as everyone else. I know a lot of us were distraught with the results, so hopefully this would ease some of the sadness away even by just a tiny bit.]

“Man, your place is so gloomy,” Adam complained while he laid languidly on the couch just behind Lucifer, his much too large wings draped over the furniture reaching the floor. “It’s just red everywhere.”

Lucifer simply hummed in response, much too busy trying to read reports and proposals from his subjects to even entertain one of the first man’s childish complaints. Besides, he liked red. 

The acid rain pitter pattered against the window, the sounds – a soothing rhythm that made the monotony of his work become a bit more bearable as he scanned over the mindless drivel of some noble’s proposal. This was their 13th attempt at getting their proposal approved, apparently the first 12 times he had to reject them were not a clear enough message. Lucifer sighed, the tedious work draining all of the energy he had as he rejected the proposal once more. He gave the paper one more look before placing it on top of a sizable stack of papers before turning to his right where an even taller stack of unread papers stood, promising more tedium to come. All benefits of being the king of pride. Lucifer turned his eyes towards the window, speckled with raindrops that sizzled into the air almost as soon as they landed. Pride’s already dark red sky looked even gloomier with thick grey clouds blanketing the city as it rained down flesh burning acid onto its population, their pained screams barely audible from where Lucifer sat. 

He slouched down his seat, his body feeling like liquid as a deep sigh escaped his lips. For once, he might agree with Adam’s complaints, his place did look rather gloomy, but was he bothered to redecorate? No, not really. Lately, he hadn’t been bothered to do much really, the building stack of papers on his desk a glaring proof of that. He groaned as he dragged his clawed hands down his face; he could feel a certain numbness from within him start to creep out again. Maybe he could doze off for a few minutes, reset his mind a bit, that might help; the sounds of rain against the window were almost like lullabies inviting him for a quick nap. He felt his eyelids get heavier, his vision slowly fading to black until he felt soft hands on his head, tugging at the strands of hair on the sides of his head. 

“W-wha..?” He blinked his eyes open a few times, willing the sleepiness away as he tried to sit back up and look at what was happening, his hands feeling around his hair.

“Just sit still.” Adam lightly smacked his hand away. “You’re going to ruin it.”

“What are you doing,” asked Lucifer as he felt another light tug at his hair and something else being entangled with it. He tried to feel around his hair again, a little more careful this time; he felt something soft and silky with a little bony stiffness to it braided alongside his hair. “Are you…braiding feathers into my hair?”

“I don’t have flowers right now, so this will do,” replied Adam, his attempt at concentrating evident in the tone of his voice. He tugged at another lock of soft blonde hair, intertwining his golden feathers into it in a way that framed and highlighted Lucifer’s face, like a ring of divine light proudly presenting his sweet charm. 

A small smile formed on Lucifer’s lips as he relaxed back onto his seat, enjoying the soft rhythmic pull on his hair, the gentle brushing of fingers against his scalp; it was rather soothing, making his body feel warm and fuzzy all over as nostalgia slowly emerged from his memories of a distant past. 

~

“Adam, what are you doing here?,” asked Lucifer as he entered the damp cave where he found the first man crouched in a corner, his legs pulled close to his chest as he covered his ears with his hands. 

Adam hesitantly looked up, hands away from his ears for a brief moment as he tried to seek comfort from his angel. “L-Luci…” 

Then a bright flash of light sparked across the dark sky before being quickly followed by a deafening rumble that rang throughout the garden. Adam quickly shut his eyes and covered his ears again as he shrunk back into himself, his entire body trembling with newfound fear at the terrifying phenomena that was happening outside. He was terrified and Lilith was nowhere to be found, so he simply had to endure God’s wrath alone, for what else could those sounds be other than God’s stern voice? Another bright light flashed just outside the cave and Adam hugged himself tighter as another loud roar echoed from the sky.

Lucifer quickly made his way to the scared human, wrapping his soft wings around them both. “There there, I’m here now,” he said, his voice as tender as the first light of the day.

“D-did I do something wrong?,” Adam asked with a trembling voice, his eyes pricked with tears ready to spill. “Is God mad at me?”

“No. Nono, our Father could never be mad at you, you did nothing wrong.” Lucifer pulled Adam to his chest, holding him with all the love in the new born world. “I know it can be scary, but it’s just another way the garden waters itself so that life may continue to flourish.”

A low rumble sounded outside and Adam couldn’t help but hug the angel even tighter. “It’s scary. Please stay with me.”

“Of course,” Lucifer smiled. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to.” He patted the first man’s head, the messy brown hair feeling softer than fresh cotton, smoother than silk. And there, the two sat together in comfortable silence, their shared warmth offsetting the chill that the storm brought along with it, the beating of their hearts a rhythm that grounded them together fading the rumbling of the sky into the background. 

Lucifer played with Adam’s hair, separating his hair into individual locks before weaving one of his feathers with it into a braid that trailed around his beautiful face, like framing a precious piece of art.

“Luci..?” Adam looked up, and it was as if the sun itself had kissed him with its warming rays. 

“I can’t always be in the garden with you,” Lucifer admitted. “So, I’m intertwining a part of myself with you. That way, I’ll always be with you,” he smiled as he tilted Adam’s chin up with gentle fingers. “I think red suits you,” he whispered before leaning down. The moment the two shared forever a secret enshrouded in beautiful feathers of red and white.

~

“Done!,” Adam declared as he finally finished adorning Lucifer’s hair with his feathers before spinning Lucifer’s chair to face him. Hands on his hips, he eyed his work up and down, a proud glint in his eyes. In front of him, sat Lucifer with shining gold feathers framing his delicate face. “Now you’re actually the Morningstar!”

Lucifer quickly created a small mirror in his hand, turning its shiny surface towards him, curious of what he looked like. And just as Adam had claimed, the image that the mirror reflected back at him truly was the Morningstar, bright and brilliant as it brought a dazzling light everywhere he went; pushing the gloominess of the room and within himself away and back into the shadows. 

“I think gold suits you,” Adam blurted out before covering his mouth and turning his face away, a faint golden hue visible on his ears. “To go along with the red, I mean.”

Lucifer sat there, stunned, for a good few seconds before quickly regaining himself. A grin crept up his lips as he pulled Adam down towards him, causing him to kneel on the floor as Lucifer pulled his face close to his chest. 

“W-what the fuck..!” Adam pushed and struggled against Lucifer’s hold, the golden flush on his face glowing even brighter now. 

“Just sit still, will you?” Lucifer held both of Adam’s hands, pinning them down onto his lap. “I’m just going to braid your hair too. Unless you’re thinking of something?,” he asked, a teasing smile playing across his lips. 

The wings behind Adam’s back puffed up in flustered anger as he pushed himself away from Lucifer, with the devil easily letting his hands go as he did. “No way!!,” he yelled out, though he ended up leaning his back on Lucifer’s legs anyway. He let out a loud huff as he crossed his arms while also shifting a little on the floor to get as comfortable as possible. 

“Well?,” he asked in mock irritation. “I thought you were going to braid my hair?”

Lucifer looked down at Adam sitting on the floor in front him, a sigh escaping his lips in pretend exhaustion. “You used to be so much cuter.”

“Fuck you,” grumbled out Adam.

“Hmm, maybe after this,” Lucifer replied as he got to working on Adam’s hair.

A shoe thrown backwards to his face was the quick response he got.

---

[Also, sorry for lying about the sweetness in the last post @twost3ps, it will unfortunately happen again 😇]

[petalsscribbles]

3. first impression

"We're here, young master." The driver says, capturing Yn's attention that was up until now stolen by raindrops sliding over the car window, imagining they are in some sort of one on one race.

"Thanks. I'll see you at 3." Yn says as he gathers his things, gets out the car and unfolds his umbrella.

The rain isn't particularly heavy, but it's not your usual springtime shower either. The school's building lives up to it's reputation. The academy is well known for it's prestigous status, famous alumni and snobbish appearance. The architecture is old but well kept, the gardens and yard are neat and tidy.

Here goes nothing.

Other students run by him covering their heads with their bags as they try to get to the school as dry as possible. Yn wonders why most kids didn't bring an umbrella, but he supposes not everyone obsessively checks the radar like he does.

"Excuse me, are you Yn Ln?" Someone asks right at the entrance as Yn shakes the droplets off his umbrella. The boy is dressed in the schools uniform, face-wise about the same age as everyone else but taller than most.

"Yes, that's me." Yn confirms. The boy smiles and holds out his hand.

"I'm Lee Heeseung, the vice president." Yn takes his hand and shakes it. It's ice cold, but he decides not to comment. "Mr. school president asked to take you on a tour personally once he's done with his duties for the day. He should be finishing up by now, actually. I'll take you to him. Shall we?" Heeseung explains and points towards the staircase in a gentlemanly way.

"So uhm..." Yn starts, having no idea how to start a friendly conversation. "What's your favourite planet?"

Heeseung looks taken aback but doesn't question it.

"Venus, I guess." He answers a few beats later.

"That's a good one. Did you know Evening Star and Morning Star are both actually Venus? The acid clouds in its atmosphere make it very reflective and shiny so people think it's an actual star."

"Really? That's cool. What else should I know about my favourite planet?" Heeseung says and Ynn doesn't have to be told twice.

"A day on Venus is longer than a year. It takes 243 Earth days to rotate but 225 Earth days to orbit around the Sun. Also..."

"Sunghoon's gonna love you." Heeseung chuckles to himself, quiet enough to not interrupt Yn's Venus fact-spitting streak.

The rest of the way is spent by Yn's ramblings about Mars and Heeseung patiently listening.

"We're here." Heeseung announces, knocking twice on the door frame. The school president turns around to face the two, flashing Yn a friendly smile. Everything about his looks is unfairly perfect, as if he was chiseled by God himself. Yn doesn't know whether to feel insecure or stare in awe.

He makes his way towards them with long strides but stops midway, his lips curving into a frown and eyes turning dark red. What once was a welcoming expression is now contempt. Disgust.

Heeseung takes a step forward, shielding Yn with his tall frame.

"Hey, what the hell is wrong with you Sunghoon? Snap out if it right now." Heeseung warns. Sunghoon's eyes go back to normal, but the scowl stays as pushes past them and leaves the classroom.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No! No, you didn't do anything wrong. I don't know what's gotten into him today. I'll text Jungwon and he'll slap some into him." Heeseung reassures.

"I see." Yn says, feeling a little dejected. His only hope is that he'll be in a better mood next time they meet.

"Well, I guess that leaves the touring duty to me. Follow me."

They resume their little walk around the academy, but Yn can't help a glance in the direction Sunghoon went, the hateful gaze still lingering in his mind.

A/n: The Living Sculptures of Pemberley is such a great song to listen to while writing frfr

taglist CLOSED

@starchasing-cryptid @foxilsdenn @moonslie04 @kkurbys @winter-world @bleedingxheartt @gnusihcom @dkmyman @mortifesboy @kkyoluv @teoluvsyou @bubblztaro @conwunder @xavi-in-kpopland @monstaxpuppy @gabrielllx @tarotarosung @livingsecret

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[p0ssywhippedcream]

oooh what do you think would happen if jason (grace) stood you up by accident like he was doing something and he just... forgot

Tangerines. Orange peels littered your thighs as you nervously chewed on the fruit. It had been an hour since the start time of your picnic with Jason and you'd gone through 6 tangerines.

You sat with upright posture, despite doubts, he had to show up soon. Your eyes were wide and alert as you searched the crowd on the green patch of park you occupied. He would show up soon with some excuse about getting lost in his work with minor deities and he would give you that lovely, toothy smile as he sat down.

One minute, two, four, seven, eleven, twenty went by. Two more tangerines filled your belly. Why had you brought so many tangerines? You dropped the ninth fruit back in the basket and sighed. The tangy acid of the fruit stung in your nail beds and your fingernails had stringy pieces stuck underneath them.

You pushed your hair behind your ear and left a strand of it sticky with the juice. Your posture failed, you uncrossed your legs with a huff and finally let the tears take your eyes. Just thirty more minutes and then you'd leave. You just had to make sure he wasn't coming.

You sipped at your cup of orange juice and groaned as the sun disappeared behind a cloud. It was dipping steadily, Apollo clearly had no mercy for your need for warmth. Clouds took the sky, popping up out of nowhere and turning the day gray. You looked up and you could swear the gods were laughing at you as a raindrop exploded on your eyebrow.

With a few curses, you began to pack up the picnic basket that was busy with watermelon and pb&j sandwhiches. You stuffed all the peels in unceremoniously as the rain really began to pour. Your ponytail got soaked and allowed the water a single path down your back, each droplet in your hair flowing down it and drenching your clothes.

Snatching the blanket and basket with growing rage, you tilted your chin to the sky and shouted, "I get it! Ha ha! Very funny, Jupiter!"

Several mortals also running for cover in the park gave you strange looks that you discarded. Whatever, fine, Jason and his dad could go sit and spin for all you cared. A little voice in your head reminded you that you did care, that it hurt and that your cheeks weren't wet with only precipitation.

You wiped them with the picnic blanket and when you were done, let it drag behind you in the mud. God, did it have to rain this hard? Thunder boomed in the distance, a reminder of sky daddy's chuckles at your state.

The bus ride home to near Camp Half Blood was barely acknowledged. Walking the half mile from the stop was, the rain blinding you even with the dirty fabric of picnic blanket draped over your head. Entering the border, the weather receded to dark clouds and you dropped your belongings, shaking yourself like a wet dog. Peleus sniffed you and grunted when the droplets hit his face, pulling away and re-tucking his head in the truck of Thalia's tree.

You grabbed your things and marched to the cabins with a frown that couldn't be turned upside down. Right as you passed Cabin 1, a flurry of orange and blonde flew out the door and knocked you on your butt.

Your boyfriend landed on his as well, his eyes flashing with joy that was cut short by realization as he sees you.

"Y/n! I was just about to leave-"

He was on his feet before you, a calloused hand in your face which you pushed away roughly.

"Yeah? Two and a half fricking hours late?"

Jason winced. "I didn't mean- I was sketching a stat-"

You stood up with a red face. "No, no! I get it! You're a busy guy, Jason. You can't be bothered to show up to a picnic you planned because you're so busy!"

A few campers had come to the doors of their cabins to check out the commotion and at Cabin 7, Kayla muttered "Damn."

"I'm sorry, I lost-"

"Lost track of time?" You finished for him. His hands halted halfway up to hold your face, his guilt was obvious and maybe later you'd feel bad for yelling so publicly but Jason had forgotten you one too many times. "Do you know what a clock is, Jason? It tells time. Maybe buy one and you won't loose track of it! Or-! Or even better, Jason, buy an alarm clock! That's a clock that lets you know when you have to do something, like go on a date with your girlfriend!"

You shook with rage for a moment, probably looking ridiculous dripping wet with mud splattered on your legs and shoes and washed away mascara. Nobody said anything for a moment, not even the other kids watching with interest. You met his sad eyes and all the fight left you. Disappointment replaced anger and you sighed, looking away.

"I know that your work is important to you, Jason. I won't give you an ultimatum and that's mainly because I know... you wouldn't choose me. I just wish-I just wish you would try to care about me half as much as you care about that. That's all."

Without another look at your devastated boyfriend, you dragged yourself and your dirty belongings away and trudged to your cabin. Nobody stopped you but one of your siblings did help you out of your dirty shoes at the door and handed you a towel with a hand on your back steering you to the showers.

You brought your hands to your head to detangle your hair and caught a whiff of tangy fruit. You paused and examined your muddy fingers that reeked of tangerines and knew you'd never be able to eat another one without a reminder of today. You practically threw your hands in the sink as you gave them a deep scrubbing.

Jason stood outside for a moment, looking only at the spot you'd been just seconds before. Self-hate bubbled up in his lungs and he couldn't breathe, his hands clenching and unclenching.

"I'm sorry.." He murmured and looked up to see the other campers quickly evade his gaze and duck away. He turned and stalked off into his cabin again, his eyes quickly filling as his brain clouded with shame.

[desertfangs]

Grocery Store - Marius/Daniel - Slice of Life - 1340 words

Just a little slice of life ficlet written for the @vamptember prompt "Grocery Store." I love imagining the immortals in stores and shops, IDK why but it's always fun to picture so I couldn't resist.

Full text beneath the cut.

The air was electric with the impending storm and it made Daniel’s hair stand on end. Marius hurried him along the sidewalk, wanting to get home before the downpour.

They made it two more blocks before thunder cracked overhead and the sky opened. Rain pelted down in great sheets, raindrops slamming into the pavement with such force that they bounced back up and soaked the legs of his jeans. Daniel spotted the bright lights of the supermarket across the street and pulled Marius toward it. 

They rushed inside, the automatic doors dinging as they closed behind them. Daniel’s sweatshirt dripped water on the floor. Marius watched the rain through the glass, squeezing the wetness out of his long hair. He glanced at Daniel. “Are you all right?” 

Daniel bit back a sarcastic retort about how he was not the Wicked Witch of the West who could be melted with water. “A little wet but I think I’ll survive.” 

“I was sure we’d make it home before it started,” Marius said, clearly annoyed that he’d misjudged the timing. 

Daniel shrugged. “It’s the weather. Not even our Norse friend Thorne can hold back the thunder.” 

Marius smiled faintly and then sighed. “I guess we can remain here for a bit, see if it stops.” 

Daniel noticed one of the cashiers watching them. The store was open for several hours yet but it was pretty empty. He grabbed a hand basket and urged Marius deeper into the store. They could at least pretend they were doing more than riding out the rain.

They meandered through the produce section. Daniel picked up a pineapple. He could just barely remember how it had tasted: sweet, tart, acidic. “Did you ever get to try one of these?” 

Marius shook his head.

“Shame.” He set the pineapple down. Sometimes the things some of the older vampires had never gotten to experience astounded him: tomatoes, chocolate, Spaghetti-Os in a can. Things he’d always taken for granted. In another five hundred years, who knew what new wonders Daniel would find strange or incomprehensible, or simply never get to taste? 

Marius wandered in front of an endcap stacked with soft drinks. As he stood there in front of cans of Pepsi and Dr. Pepper, Daniel was struck suddenly by how out of place Marius looked here inside a garishly lit supermarket. Even in the modern clothes he wore tonight—khakis and a red polo shirt—he had an air of timelessness that made him stand out, exacerbated by the pallor of his marble skin. 

Of course, any mortal who noticed something off would chalk it up to their imagination, but he looked so otherworldly that it made Daniel’s pulse race. He was beautifully inhuman. Daniel surreptitiously snapped a photo with his iPhone. 

Marius turned, smiling indulgently, and Daniel felt his cheeks flush a little, sure Marius had heard his thoughts.

They moved on to the bakery section. There, they studied the display case of cakes, decorated with bright colored frostings and little sugar flowers. 

“Incredible, isn’t it?” Daniel pointed to a cake with beautiful orchids in shades of pink and orange made out of icing.

“It is a fascinating use of colored sugar,” Marius said. 

Daniel started to say something about the artistic merit of cake decoration but decided against it. He wasn’t in the mood to get roped into another debate about what constituted art. 

He headed down the next aisle and found himself in front of an array of canned vegetables with glossy, colorful labels. Daniel lifted a can of peas from the shelf as Marius came up silently beside him. 

“Armand used to love the canned food aisle,” Daniel said, remembering the first time he’d taken him to a grocery store. Armand had spent an hour lifting cans, reading the labels, and questioning Daniel about the contents. They’d bought a cart full of stuff, so much that they’d had to take a taxi back to their apartment, where Armand diligently opened every single can and dumped the contents out onto styrofoam plates to study it. 

Daniel laughed at the memory, even as the ache of missing his maker wormed through him. 

“New York is not that far,” Marius said softly. 

Daniel sighed. He thought about that a lot, but he wasn’t ready. The stilted phone calls he and Armand shared were awkward and strange and Daniel didn’t know how to talk to him anymore. The thought of being in the same room as him again was overwhelming. He placed the can of peas back on the shelf.

“We can’t even get a mile back to our place,” Daniel quipped. 

Marius smiled at the bad joke but Daniel caught something in his eyes, a sadness or a longing perhaps. It was gone before he could be sure, replaced with something more playful. “Is that a challenge?”

“You know I enjoy challenging you, but that was merely an observation,” Daniel said, purposely bumping Marius’ shoulder as he moved down the aisle. “Come on, Old Man, I’ll blow your mind.” 

He heard Marius laugh softly as he turned the corner to the next aisle. When Marius reached him, Daniel gestured to the shelves full of colorful cereal boxes with cartoon mascots and big, colorful fonts. 

“Behold, the modern breakfast of champions,” Daniel said. 

Amusement crinkled the skin around Marius’ eyes. “I know what cereal is, Daniel. I do watch television occasionally.” 

“But did you ever imagine such a thing when you were young, mortal, and hungry in the morning?”

“Did I ever envision an illustrated tiger trying to sell me a box of sweetened grain? No, I can’t say that I did.” 

Daniel sighed. “Sometimes I think about how much has changed in the few decades since I was mortal and then I try to imagine how different everything will be in another hundred years, let alone a thousand.” 

“Does that worry you?” Marius asked.

Daniel shook his head. “I want to see how the world changes, what advancements are made, what new technologies and inventions appear. It’s part of why I wanted this.” 

“But…” Marius pressed.

Daniel shrugged. “I guess I didn���t expect things to change so fast.”

Marius laughed, loud and boisterous, his voice ringing through the aisle. He put his arm around Daniel’s shoulders. “The longer you live, the faster things seem to change. The more you will step out of the house and realize the world is not the one you knew a century or even a decade before.”

Daniel stared at the glossy cereal boxes that now had metallic shiny letters decorating them. He couldn’t even remember what Frosted Flakes tasted like. “How do you handle it?” 

Marius considered. “A passion for the world and the people in it, I suppose. A desire to discover what will happen next.” 

“And that keeps you going?” Daniel asked. 

Marius was silent for a long moment. “I endure because I must.”

“For yourself or for everyone else?” 

Marius ruffled Daniel’s hair affectionately. “Always asking pointed questions.” 

“You like that about me,” Daniel said wryly.

“Indeed I do.” Marius was silent for a long moment. “I believe surrounding ourselves with others is how we remain connected to the world and keep our desire to exist in it. Mortals and their art and creativity and philosophy and new wonders.” Marius’ arm slid down and around Daniel’s waist, tightening around him. “And there’s our own kind, of course. Never discount the power of connection to others who also endure.” 

Daniel leaned against him, Marius’ body solid and powerful like it was made of his stone, his arm around Daniel like a marble vice, keeping him close and safe. 

“I think that’s the key,” Daniel said. “Connection to our kind.” 

“You’ve always been wise beyond your years.” Marius kissed the top of Daniel’s head and led him out of the aisle, back to the front of the store. 

The rain had abated, becoming only a light drizzle. Daniel replaced his empty hand basket in the holder and they walked out into the damp night, arm in arm. 

[talesofesther]

don't know how to be something you miss

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: On a rainy day, Wednesday recalls pieces of your story together through memories, and wonders if you miss her too.

Requested by anon

A/N: Soft!Wednesday because that's my thing now. This request was really fun to make, hope you like it, let me know. All flashbacks are in italics.

Masterlist

There's something unusual on Wednesday's side of the dorm.

It's small, insignificant, private because there's no one else here to witness it.

Her typewriter still sits by the end of her dark-colored bed, her cello is still stashed beside her wardrobe and her window is still the opposite of Enid's; devoid of color, creating soft shadows on the wooden floor as the rain falling outside collides with it.

But there's an anomaly on the black-and-white hues of Wednesday's side.

The Addams girl sits on the floor beside her bed, her back resting against the cold wall. She hugs her knees close to her chest, making herself smaller; she's wearing a lilac hoodie, one hand gripping its fabric as she holds herself together and the other clutching a polaroid picture, the hood is over her head and she can smell a familiar perfume.

The color is strange on her pale skin, on the black of her hair. Yet she buries herself in it.

It's pathetic. She's broken all her rules and promises.

Wednesday remembers the first time she saw the hoodie she wears;

—

It was potions and elixirs class, one that Wednesday enjoys most of the time; handling deadly substances was always amusing — the classroom didn't lack glass vials that were labeled 'toxic, do not ingest' and she was dying to try them out in her mixing table.

The teacher was about to start talking when a knock sounded on the door. Wednesday glared at it with disdain.

It opened to reveal you standing on the other side, a lilac hoodie draped over your uniform, a lollipop hanging from your lips, and a smile on your face that looked more like a grimace as you apologized for getting lost and arriving late. It was dismissed since it was your first day, and you were left to pick a seat.

Wednesday put on her best stern look so you wouldn't choose the empty chair beside her.

But you did anyway.

She rolled her eyes with a sigh when you sat down, instantly turning to her with a hopeful grin.

"Hi," your voice was timid and sweet.

Wednesday chanced a glance at you and your smile instantly brightened at the attention. She noticed you had captivating eyes, the strawberry confection you had on your lips was now being twirled between your fingers.

"You better be good with potions," was Wednesday's greeting.

And the mixture you made ended up creating something acidic. It melted through the table and created a dent in the floor.

—

Wednesday scoffs at the memory, you were always a bit reckless, following your gut even if the odds were against you. She liked that about you.

There were several things she secretly liked about you.

Sometimes she believes you have the power to read between the lines, uncover things people themselves don't realize yet.

If it wasn't for that, and your incredibly annoying persistence, maybe Wednesday would never have had a story with you at all.

Her bedroom feels bigger, lonelier; the rain doesn't help, the sound of it hitting the stone walls outside gets her mind drifting.

—

You jumped on the puddles, splashing water all around you and most likely inside your shoes as well.

Wednesday was staring at you with a soft scrunch on her eyebrows, wondering what was the purpose of your actions other than inconveniently soaking the floorboards later.

She was leaning back on the wall of the bee shed, under the roof, waiting out the rain. You were doing your chores as if the sun was shining in the sky. Peculiar.

"Why won't you join me, Wednesday?" You asked as if the answer wasn't obvious, as if raindrops weren't rapidly rolling down your forehead all the way to your chin.

"Because I'm sensible," Wednesday stated, her gaze following the path of a droplet that stopped by your lips. She crossed her arms over her chest, clearing her throat.

"Where's the fun in that?" You raised a brow, "the rain washes your soul, you know."

"I like my soul dark, stained, and dry."

You clicked your tongue at her answer, stalking closer with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "I think that's just an excuse," you took hold of one of Wednesday's braids, twirling the end of it on your fingers.

Wednesday's lips hovered open at your audacity, her heart pushing against her ribs.

"Because we both know I'm much better at harvesting these hives."

That shook Wednesday out of her trance. She scoffed, "I can do it twice as faster with my eyes closed."

You shrugged, "I'll believe it when I see it."

"You have. And I've been here longer than you."

"Hm, these three jars of honey here say otherwise."

Wednesday clenched her jaw, it was a cheap attempt at getting her to indulge you, and she hated that it was working. She hated that the prospect of competing with you brought a thrill of excitement to her stomach.

When you stepped away, she followed, allowing the rain to pour down on her and soak her clothes and hair.

She did win in the end, and even if you lost you were still smiling widely as you two walked back to the school, feeling the smell of fresh rain hitting the tree leaves.

Mud was dragged on the floorboards of Nevermore when you got back inside and the water dripping from your clothes stained the rugs. Weems got red with anger and went on a tangent about manners.

Wednesday had to agree with you in the end. It was fun.

—

The rain picks up outside, the drops that hit her window are loud and the air is frigid — the wooden floor not doing much to chase it away.

If you were here you'd be scolding her, telling her to get on the warm, comfy bed. You'd take her hands on yours and complain about the coldness of them.

You'd place a kiss on each of Wednesday's knuckles if she let you. And she would; in the end, she knew she would.

But you're not here to do any of that.

A trembling breath passes through Wednesday's lips, creating a small puff of white air.

She thinks she deserves to feel the cold seeping onto her skin.

—

Night had long since settled in, Enid was having a sleepover at Yoko's dorm and Wednesday had the room to herself. The sounds of her typewriter were the only thing filling the air. Peaceful.

Another page was filled, she took it out with care before placing a new one in its place.

"When will you let me read it?"

Oh yeah. You're here too. Being alone feels nicer when Wednesday can feel your presence nearby.

"I doubt you'd be able to stomach it," she responded, curiosity hinting at her tone wondering if you really would read her novel or if you were just making conversation.

You're sprawled out on Wednesday's bed, laying on your stomach as you picked on a few loose strands of her dark blanket. "You underestimate me, Wednesday. The macabre has always fascinated me."

It's strange how comfortable you were in her presence, how you never once hesitated to see her darker side. Wednesday sometimes doesn't know what to make of it. There are no conditions to your apparent affection, you seemed happy to just exist beside her.

Wednesday looked at you, at the way you were swinging your feet in the air, laying your head on your forearm as you raised a brow at her; daringly.

Maybe there was a reason why she started calling upon you every time Enid left. She liked to exist in your presence too.

It was another hour before Wednesday finally stopped writing, and when she did — getting up from her chair and stretching her muscles — she noticed that you had fallen asleep. You lay in an awkward position that would surely give you neck pain later, your hand falling off the edge of the bed as you snored softly.

Wednesday didn't know what to do about you. She had a foreign feeling in her stomach upon seeing you so comfortable on her bed, her space.

The thought of waking you up didn't even cross her mind.

But you had been stupid enough to sleep on top of the covers. And it was winter.

On the guise of not wanting to hear you whinnying about being sick later, Wednesday rummaged through her wardrobe and picked up one of her oversized hoodies. She awkwardly placed it over your still body… and waited.

Eventually making herself comfortable sitting on the floor, she waited for you to wake up, intently observing your sleeping figure. Wednesday memorized your breathing pattern, eventually matching her own with yours, and when it halted for a second, she wondered what nightmares you must be having. She noticed each involuntary muscle twitch on your face, finding herself mesmerized by the way your eyebrows would furrow the slightest bit sometimes.

Was it creepy that she enjoyed watching you? Was it bad that she didn't want to look away?

Wednesday reached out with her heart in her mouth, clogging up her breathing. Her fingertips touched yours, her skin brushing against yours until she was somewhat holding your hand.

Why? She didn't know. But there was no one here for her to have the need to explain herself.

Until you returned her grip, and Wednesday's heartbeat stilled.

"Get your ass off the floor Wednesday, you'll freeze."

—

You had a warmth to you that was captivating. And Wednesday fell right into your trap.

She pays the price now. She never knew what it was like to miss someone until she wanted to rip her heart out. But it doesn't feel good.

Wednesday bites into her lip until she tastes blood. She wonders if you think about it too, about her.

A sharp breath enters her lungs and stays there. She wonders if she is someone worth missing.

You left, so, probably not.

Wednesday stretches her legs, leaning her head back on the wall. She could kill you for cursing her with this. But to what avail? The last living part of her would die with you anyway.

Her thumb brushes over the image of you and her on her hands, the polaroid picture is a little worn out from being kept under her pillow. It's her most valued secret.

You're smiling in the image, beside you, Wednesday has no expression as she looks at the camera; you're illuminated by countless fireworks exploding in the sky; far down, the town fair can be seen; both your hands are out of the picture but anyone could tell they were tangled together.

Wednesday Addams succumbing to something as frivolous as love?

You made it seem as simple as the raindrops that hit her window.

—

You were bouncing on your feet, hair up in a ponytail and lilac hoodie wrapped around your waist. Your eyes couldn't find a place to focus before your attention was already being grabbed by a new attraction at the town fair.

Wednesday followed a step behind you, colorful lights coming from the many amusement rides illuminated her skin.

"Come on, Wednesday," you fell back into step beside her, linking your arm around hers and pulling her along, "you can win me a teddy bear, it gives you an excuse to shoot something."

And she did, she won you the biggest teddy bear on the balloon shooting stand. And if she had a tiny smile on her lips as she proudly handed it to you, no one needed to know.

In exchange, you went into the haunted house with Wednesday.

"Stop squirming, this is hardly scary for a child, let alone for you," Wednesday grumbled as you walked the dark hallways of the old haunted manor, your hand clutching at her arm for dear life.

"We're walking through poorly lit hallways that are designed to scare us. I know something will happen yet I don't know when," you pointed out in a hush, your hand sneaking lower on Wednesday's arm, "of course I'm gonna be at least a little creeped out."

Not even a second later, a man poorly dressed as a zombie jumped from behind a wall. You squealed and Wednesday felt a sudden rush of protectiveness coming over her. She finally took your hand in hers.

Your fingers were snuggly intertwined with each other by the time you went into the Ferris Wheel to watch the firework show.

With little room in the cabin for you to sit, Wednesday's shoulder was flush with yours. Her hand still held onto yours. The warmth of your skin became addicting.

Way down, the town fair looked like a distant reality — for a fleeting moment it was just you, her, and the stars until fireworks started painting the sky a million colors.

And you were probably thinking the same, because you opened your purse and pulled out your instant camera, not giving Wednesday much of a warning before you snapped the picture.

"I always want to remember this day," you told her, your cheeks molding around your smile and your eyes crinkling because of it. There was a soft drizzle in the air, landing on your hair and clothes and making them shine.

Wednesday watched the firework show through your eyes, through the way it reflected on your pupils and made you glow. It was magical. You were magical in a way she's never seen before.

It was only natural for her to lean in, one hand coming up to hold your jaw so she could capture your lips with hers.

—

A drop of water lands on the edge of the polaroid picture, and then another, and one more on the sleeve of your hoodie, turning it a darker shade of lilac.

Wednesday frowns, until she realizes that she can't breathe, and that the droplets are coming from her eyes. She wipes her cheeks harshly, unkindly, almost bruising herself.

But she's careful with the way she dries them off the picture, gently brushing away the tears that almost landed on top of your smiling figure.

She wonders if you still want to remember that day the same way she does.

You are her best memory. And she wonders if you still want to remember her at all.

—

It was raining, had been for a week straight already, but today there was thunder roaring in the sky and lightning illuminating the night.

Wednesday hadn't seen you the entire day. No one had.

You were gone.

And she was losing her mind.

"What do you mean she's not in the school?" She snapped at Thing. The disembodied hand cowered at her tone. "Look again," she commanded, yet the way her words cracked at the end let the facade slip.

She was pacing back and forth on the entry hall of Nevermore, the tall wooden doors were pushed open so she had a clear view of the gates. Waiting — wishing — to see you walk through. All she saw was the rain hitting the ground and making the horizon hazy and white.

Damn you for making her care. Damn you for taking her heart. Damn you for making her realize how dreadful life is without you.

Weems walked back into the room, her heels clicking against the wooden floor.

Wednesday hastily walked up to the principal, "so?"

"No teachers know of her whereabouts either." Weems sighed.

Wednesday clenched her jaw, feeling her stomach drop, "I'm going out."

Weems' features softened, yet she shook her head, "I cannot allow you to leave in these weather conditions, Miss Addams."

"Me?" Wednesday scoffed indignantly, "what about her?"

"We don't know-"

"Exactly, we don't," she interrupted Weems, urgency filling her words because the reality that you could be taken from her just like that, was too palpable, and Wednesday doesn't like to feel a pain she can't control; "for all we know we could find her dead body in the woods and-"

"What happened?"

Both Weems and Wednesday snapped their heads towards your voice, relief evident on both their faces when they saw you unharmed.

You were soaked to the bone from walking in the pouring rain, drenching the rug beneath your feet as your hair and clothes clung to your body.

Weems gave you a glare that let you know you had to explain yourself later, but she left the room right after, knowing you and Wednesday deserved some privacy.

Wednesday's hands were closed into fists beside her, nails almost digging on skin as she watched you walk up to her with a soft frown on your eyebrows; as if you were unaware of the mess your absence had caused on her, as if you didn't know her vision was blurring over because for a second she thought all she'd have of you were memories.

Wednesday was enraged, her lungs being unable to hold air properly and turning her breathing erratic, "are you stupid?" She threw at you, making you flinch.

"What the hell were you thinking?" She continued, taking a step closer to grasp at that damn hoodie you insisted on wearing all the time, "don't dare do it again you hear me? I forbid you." She emphasized each word with a shake to your body.

Your answer was to wrap your arms around her, and she fought you, tried to push you away, but your hold was stronger. You held Wednesday's body to you until she collapsed, her weight mostly supported by you as her tears mingled with the raindrops still on your skin and the wetness of your clothes seeped into hers too.

Her nails dug into the fabric of your hoodie and she buried her head in your neck; breathing you in, feeling your heartbeat against her own.

"I'm sorry. I'm okay," you mumbled countless times like a mantra, your lips brushing the shell of Wednesday's ear.

It felt like a promise that you later sealed with a soft kiss on her lips. It was a little cold and wet, but you were there.

—

If Wednesday knew that would be your last kiss, she'd have held on to you a little longer.

Maybe that's why she feels so miserable today, because of the rain.

It's easier to put the blame on something she can't control, something she can't regret.

Part of Wednesday wants to be selfish and only keep the good memories, not the bad ones, but sometimes your words still echo in her mind;

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I just went into town to pick something up, for you, actually. The rain picked back up on my way back… I didn't mean to make you so worried."

And her own words still plague her too;

"It was reckless, it's like you enjoy being an inconvenience sometimes, I was perfectly fine not needing anyone in my life until you showed up."

That conversation ended with you storming out of Wednesday's room, your hoodie staying behind on top of her bed. It was two weeks ago, and she never got to know what it was you wanted to give her.

You haven't exchanged a word with each other since.

Begrudgingly, Wednesday gets up from her spot on the floor. The sleeves of your hoodie pool on her wrists. Your perfume is weaker, fading with each passing day.

What happens when she can't remember what you smell like anymore? When she can't fool herself that your arms are the ones around her and not the lilac fabric?

Wednesday lifts her pillow, placing your picture under it before putting it down again.

Maybe the time to let go is nearing. But it's a hard task when she has glimpses of you every day, in every class, in every corner of the school.

She takes off your hoodie and puts it back in her wardrobe, there's a place reserved for it there. Sometimes she wonders if you'll ever come back to get it.

Wednesday goes to her bathroom and throws water on her face, she doesn't need people looking at her funny because of her red-rimmed eyes.

There's a bit of hesitance on her steps down the stairs. Dinner will be served soon and Wednesday knows what awaits her at the cafeteria, or better, who.

The sound of rain is all she can hear, it's dreadful, you've ruined it for her. You've ruined so many things for her.

Wednesday walks into the cafeteria and finds you almost immediately, in the sea of outcasts, you stand out. You always have, as much as she doesn't want to admit it. You're sitting by the window, lollipop on your lips as you talk with your friends.

Whatever it is that keeps you tied to her — magnetism, gravity, electricity; it must be a little bit of each — it's still there. Because you look her way, it's like you can feel her presence too, your lips halting in their movement when your eyes find hers. But you're shaking your head and averting your gaze from the doors she stands in front of the second after.

Sometimes Wednesday thinks you look at her with the same feelings you forced on her when you left; with longing, with sadness, with something bittersweet.

Wednesday wonders if you'd be willing to give her a second chance. She wonders if you think about her at night too.

She wonders, but she never asks. She doesn't know that all she had to do was ask.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 2 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

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[hiddenonyx]

A/N: More world building - some weather shenanigans this time. The mention of acid rain and gemstone rain(?) got me thinking about what other weird weather the Devildom could have.

The Devildom is a massive epicenter of magic. While the rest of Hell (geography post of Hell and the Devildom coming at some point) does have a magical signature and does use magic, the Devildom’s magical signatures and usage is far greater. This massive magical signature causes the odd weather we hear about in the Devildom, such as magical gemstone showers.

However, not every magically influenced weather event is (relatively) harmless. Sometimes, the magic around the Devildom flows and combines and creates a mana storm. Despite the innocent enough name, these storms can be devastating. Raw magic rains down in colorful raindrops that sear skin, indiscriminate of race and power. Magical explosions can occur within the clouds, the aftershocks strong enough to shake buildings and even shatter glass at their strongest. These storms can even cause temporary wild magic zones or even temporary magical dead zones.

Mana storms are nearly unpredictable, making them dangerous if not deadly - collecting injuries every time and even some fatalities for the worst ones. It is general practice to take cover in buildings, in an area away from magic items until an “all clear” alert is sent out.

[rottenpumpkin13]

*drops down from the trees by grappling hook with a birthday cake*

Dedicated to @altocat, who brightens everyone's day with her wonderful writing and headcanons 🎂 ❤️ Here's my attempt at bittersweet Glenn and Sephiroth fluff.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Sephiroth liked the smell of what Hojo was quick to label as 'dirt and grime'—the damp earth beneath his boots, the smell of fresh morning raindrops dripping from the trees overhead, the crisp mountain breeze that carried notes of pine and flowers.

It filled his lungs and reminded him that he breathed, as any other human being, and that there was more to the world than his obligations and Shinra's conquests.

Glenn and Sephiroth sat perched atop a rugged cliff, their backs against the cool, weathered rocks overlooking a sprawling ravine that stretched far below. Sephiroth's gaze wandered over the expanse before them. Gently letting his eyes flutter shut, he wished he could drink it all up, treating it like an addictive drug he would consume forever if he could.

Glenn extended a glass soda bottle towards him, its oddly-colored contents gleaming in the sunlight as he gradually opened his eyes. The whimsical label was adorned with a cheerful moogle proudly showing off its drink, and the words Kupo Pop! Secret Flavor!

"I don't understand why the ingredients can't be labeled on the bottle," Sephiroth, ever the skeptic, remarked as he accepted the glass bottle.

Glenn rolled his eyes as the younger boy began turning the bottle around, reading the scattered words for any hints as to what it contained. "Go ahead, give it a try," he encouraged, twisting the cap from his own blueberry soda. "Part of the fun is in the mystery, you know. Maybe the secret is that it's just irresistibly delicious."

Sephiroth looked up, his lips a thin line as he stared pointedly ahead. "Secrets aren't fun.”

"But they can be," Glenn countered, pointing his bottle at him. "They're fun to keep, fun to share, and most importantly, fun to savor." With a light clink, Glenn tapped his bottle against Sephiroth's.

Sephiroth's lips would have easily been confused with a squiggly line drawn by a child on paper. He frowned, staring down at the bottle with unease, his choppy hair falling over his eyes. "Aren't there supposed to be… orange flavors? I've heard about orange soda.”

Glenn nearly spat out his mouthful of blueberry as he pulled it from his lips. "Woah, you've never had soda before?"

Glenn's surprise was evident as Sephiroth shook his head in response. He tried not to let his jaw fall slack as he lifted his hand to his face, scratching at his stubble. “Huh…. How about that. Well don't worry. I'd never give you something you wouldn’t like."

Sephiroth arched a single eyebrow, looking mildly annoyed. "That's what you said about the marshmallows.” His hands clenched around the glass bottle. “They tasted funny."

“Ha!” Glenn nudged him. “Hey, it's not my fault you're a weird little dude who doesn't like marshmallows.”

As he drained the contents of his soda, Sephiroth looked back down at his own. Determined, he grabbed the bottle opener from the dusty ground and hooked it to the cap.

Gradually, Sephiroth braced himself and took a swig of the mysterious soda. Glenn watched, unblinking as Sephiroth squeezed his eyes shut and gulped it down.

Instantly, a sharp sensation tingled and bubbled in his throat. Acid? Not good. He instinctively spat it out, hacking and coughing.

Glenn erupted into laughter, letting his bottle fall to his lap as he clapped. Sephiroth cleared his throat twice, water lining his widened, green eyes.

"Is it supposed to burn?" Sephiroth spluttered, wiping his lips with the back of his wrist. His voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and discomfort, which would've made Glenn feel horribly guilty if it weren't hilarious.

Sephiroth The Great, defeated by a mystery Kupo Pop flavor. Matt and Lucia would never believe it.

Leaning back against the rocky ledge, Glenn's laughter subsided as he regarded Sephiroth with amusement. "Well, what does it taste like?"

Sephiroth paused, gathering his thoughts after the unexpected attempt on his life.

"I don't know. I was caught off guard by the burning. I forgot to notice the flavor."

Reluctantly, Sephiroth took another sip—small this time, less overwhelming. He was cautious as he contemplated the taste lingering on his tongue, his face twisting along with his flickering thoughts.

"Passion fruit," he declared after a moment of contemplation.

Glenn arched an eyebrow skeptically. "Hm. Is it offensive that I doubt whether you know what passion fruit tastes like?"

His tone was teasing, but he was serious. He barely knew what passion fruit tasted like. Exotic fruits were hard to come by in Midgar, and when they did, he wasn't willing to break open his wallet to succumb to expensive curiosity.

Sephiroth shifted uncomfortably, averting his eyes as he traced patterns on the bottle's icy condensation. “When Professor Hojo has my dental impressions done, the alginate has a passion fruit flavor.” He shrugged. “Or at least it used to when I was very young. Now it tastes like nothing."

Glenn's unease at the mention of Professor Hojo flickered briefly across his features, but he hid it well for Sephiroth's sake.

He suppressed the urge to make a joke about the mundanity of adult life— “Hey kid! Welcome to the real world, where everything is bitter and sweetness is rare.” That's what he would've said had it been anyone other than the boy sitting by his side, the child who should be able to taste passionfruit—and soda—and marshmallows. And freedom.

Glenn reached around, patting Sephiroth on the back as he masked his discontentment with a subtle grin. "Remind me to buy you a real passionfruit when we're back in Midgar.”

Sephiroth's smile held a touch of gratitude, but he said nothing else. His gaze lingered on the bottle in his hand, lost in thought.

Back in Sephiroth's mind, the passion fruit soda now tasted like a suffocating hand shoving itself down his throat, forcing him to throw everything good and whole he had digested back up in hopes of feeding him misery.

Glenn didn't like it when Sephiroth went quiet. "So!” He promoted, stretching his arms. “Secrets aren't fun? How come?”

"No," Sephiroth replied solemnly, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. "They're barriers—walls built to control and keep you happy."

His conviction weighed the air around them. Glenn needed to distract him. "And do you have any secrets?" he tried gently.

Sephiroth looked up, his gaze translucent, unblinking. "There's nothing I haven't told you," he confessed. “And there's nothing I wouldn't tell you.” He pressed his lips together and straightened his back, probably trying to sound mature but cracking under Glenn's wiser gaze. “Not that I keep anything. From anyone.”

A quiet, almost inaudible “It's not like I can” reached Glenn's ears, but he chose to ignore it in favor of an idea that arose just as it was needed.

Glenn huffed. “Alright. How about I tell you one of mine then?”

Sephiroth listened intently, the cold glass of the bottle pressing against his reddened, ungloved fingers.

"Okay so. A few years ago when I was a rookie…I was a part of this mission out to the Gongaga region. I was supposed to be watching over our materia stash, since the group was small and we were camped out in the jungle. I thought it was a good idea to bury them in the dirt by the river. Little did I know how rainstorms are a daily occurrence in the jungle.”

He paused for dramatic effect, savoring the way Sephiroth's eyes went wide along with his smile.

“They all got washed away.”

The reveal was punctuated by a sudden fit of laughter from Sephiroth.

“But I didn't get in trouble,” Glenn continued, laughing too. “I blamed it on a random bandit attack and told a story about how I valiantly fought them off, but they took the materia.”

Sephiroth doubled over with laughter, leaning back. His bubbly cries echoed throughout the ravine. His cheeks were rosy, the sunlight caught in his silver hair just as the breeze messed it up, making him look every bit the kid he was.

Glenn pinched the bridge of his nose, his shoulders shaking as he chuckled. "Now that's my biggest secret, so don't go around telling anyone, alright?"

Sephiroth's laughter faded. His demeanor shifted gradually. While he still maintained a small smile, he swung his legs over the rocky drop, looking down into the ravine.

"Don't worry. I don't have anyone.”

Glenn's heart sank, a pang of remorse gnawing at his insides.

After a few moments where they were both enveloped in a cloud of guilt—Glenn with his foot in his mouth and Sephiroth’s desire to eat his own words—Glenn mustered the courage to break the tension.

He turned his body to him fully. "You know, Sephiroth, you're such a great kid," he began, sounding as earnest as he could.

Sephiroth looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes. "I am?"

Glenn grinned. "Duh. You're the coolest kid I've ever met. You're responsible, and fun to be around, not to mention smart as hell."

Sephiroth’s reddened cheeks complimented his smile. He opened his mouth to reply, but was inside of what to say. He wasn't used to being paid any compliments—at least, none about who he was as a person.

But it didn't matter. Glenn wasn't finished. The older boy's expression turned playful as nudged Sephiroth. "So watch out, because one day you'll have a lot of people to tell my secret to, and if you do, I'll kick your ass.”

Sephiroth looked down, clearly unsure. “I don't think…ah…I don't know.”

Glenn knew. He was certain of it. "Tell you what," he said. "When you find those people—and you will—promise me you'll tell them my secret. I'll probably be too old to care anyway."

Sephiroth's gaze softened, a flicker of mischief in the tone of his subsequent hum. "Older?"

Glenn rolled his eyes and responded with a playful punch to Sephiroth's arm, the impact light but affectionate.

"Promise me,” he pressed, his gaze locking with Sephiroth's. He was dead serious.

Sephiroth's expression softened, his resolve firm as he met Glenn's gaze.

"I promise," he nodded.

Sephiroth would only come to realize Just How naive he was at that age years later. Sometimes he could hear Glenn's satisfied “I told you so” whispering to him, and Sephiroth would give anything to have heard it from him.

Years passed since that day.

Sephiroth found himself seated on that same exact cliff overlooking the ravine. The warm, late April sun bathed the landscape in a warm glow, the gentle breeze carrying with it the scents of pine and earth. Just as it had been back then.

Although there were some key differences. In his hand, Sephiroth held an unopened bottle of Kupo Pop, raspberry flavor—since the secret flavor had been discontinued long ago.

He still found no appeal in fizzy drinks, but he hoped the memory concealed within the burn would be bittersweet.

“Hey,” Genesis approached from behind with a bottle of orange soda and a small smile. "Do you want to trade? I'm not nearly as not fond of orange as you are.”

Sephiroth nodded in agreement, accepting the offer and exchanging bottles.

Genesis plopped down on his left, muttering something about the dirt sticking to his coat. The clicks and flash of a camera signaled Angeal's arrival at the rocky cliff edge.

He excitedly snapped as many shots as he could of the trees, the ravine, the waterfall, and several keepsakes of their trek up the mountain.

Sephiroth looked up. "I don't think you got enough pictures" he quipped with a teasing smile.

Angeal settled down on Sephiroth's right—side-eyeing Genesis, who began shaking his soda bottle absentmindedly.

"I can never take enough.” Angeal settled the camera around his neck. “Pictures only do so much. They don't exactly encapsulate the memory you're trying to preserve.” Angeal’s tone was thoughtful as he gazed out at the breathtaking view.

Sephiroth nodded in agreement, his gaze drifting to the horizon. "I guess it's all in the special moments.”

Genesis twisted off the cap of his bottle, only to be met with a sudden eruption of fizz. The red soda sprayed all over them, prompting a chorus of startled reactions. Genesis let out a shriek, his expression shifting rapidly from embarrassment to frustration. Angeal screamed a swear as he covered his camera. Sephiroth laughed, wiping the red drink from his face.

"Is Genesis being an idiot a special moment?" Angeal snapped.

Genesis attempted to deflect blame, his face a mix of embarrassment and indignation as he flicked a soaked lock of hair from his eyes.

"Hey, it's not my fault! Sephiroth handed me the bottle like that.”

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, then uncapped his orange soda. "Genesis, I just watched you shake the bottle.”

“But—!”

“Don't gaslight Angeal.” Sephiroth took a swig of the drink.

Meanwhile Angeal let out a violent snort. "He thinks it's an apple juice can," Angeal chuckled, punctuating his words with a mock shaking motion with his fist. “You know? The kind you have to shake first?”

Sephiroth snorted, pulling the bottle away from his lips quickly before he spat it out.

The pair fell into a fit of laughter, leaning on each other. The moment was definitely made funnier by the way Genesis was completely drenched in the soda.

Genesis shrugged sheepishly, acknowledging his blunder with a self-deprecating grin. "Shit. Muscle memory, I suppose," he admitted, his laughter mixing with theirs.

Once the moment faded into a comfortable silence, they each became lost in their own thoughts as they savored the serenity of their surroundings. Genesis contentedly sipped the remainder of Sephiroth's orange soda, while Angeal focused his attention on capturing the beauty of the waterfall below with his camera.

Sephiroth's mind wandered, his thoughts drifting back to that day, to Glenn, to their conversation and the passion fruit soda.

He was fortunate enough to have to keep his promise.

With a sense of resolve settling over him, he broke the silence. "I need to tell you both a secret.”

[applesharonfiction]

rain (sethoscara)

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Sethos/Scaramouche, Sethos/Wanderer

Rating: T

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56557216

A joyful shout interrupts his thoughts. Stopping himself from spilling scalding tea over his lap, he looks up to see Sethos beaming at him, raindrops dripping down his face.

Cheeks flushed a coppery-red, Sethos throws his head back, allowing the rain to soak his face and hair and clothes, plastering his yellow scarf to his neck.

Sethos’ smile is so brilliant, he has to look away.

He feels something watching Sethos' obvious happiness. It’s not anger, but it burns in his chest all the same.

“Have you never seen rain before?” he asks Sethos, a hint of genuine curiosity hoarsely hidden behind sarcastic acidity.

“Not like this!”

Sethos begins giggling and, like many humans the puppet has seen at the Akademiya and elsewhere, once it starts, he seems unable to make it stop.

It’s not a bad sound.

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