#brightest light bulbs

[crl2ptiste]

https://www.futureelectronics.com/p/semiconductors--lighting-solutions--light-engine-led-assemblies--light-engines/ess015w-0350-42-erp-power-4089170

Outdoor Light, brightest light bulbs, LED lighting systems, retrofit LED lamp

100 - 277Vac, 14.7W, 350mA, 24-42V, [0-10V, TRI...], IP64 LED Driver

[muzzlemouths]

hi friends! is it cringe to write myself a fic for my birthday

[bingbong21]

"I've learned recently if you speak with passion you'll be able to get your message across!" Jiro speaking passionately to get your message across is all this series is, what do you mean you've only learned that recently????

[goshdangronpa]

No you’re right it skipped my mind that it’s called the Megaphone Hacking Gun so calling it Mind Hacking is more accurate.

I like the the idea she often yells out her psychic moves while imagining holding a megaphone cause it helps in hyping herself up and getting into the mindset of it since she still has to think hard to do it. (I love my girl but she ain’t the brightest bulb lol)

It's nice to have something that focuses the mind! Otherwise, your thoughts go everywhere. Visualizing a tool to direct your thoughts into is a great way for psychics to concentrate. At least, I assume. I'm not psychic myself, and this post could benefit from input from a genuine psychic.

[scrumptiousstuffs]

Ahhhh!! My other fav pairing 🥰🥰🥰 (apart from FK 😊)

I'm so glad they found each other, and get to be friends and act together. They're both so incredibly talented.

[thecordelialetters]

The Art of Science

Viktor x artist!fem!reader

WC: 1.4k

An unlikely meeting of a lonely scientist and a student of the arts finding the beauty in themselves and each other.

Viktor never considered himself beautiful. His dimly lit room contained the basic human needs, a bed, a desk, and a sofa, all provided by the academy. There were no big mirrors besides the foggy one that sat above his bathroom sink. He barely glanced at it other than to fix his bedhead. The bags under his eyes and paling skin were hard to look at. Viktor believed in his work; he couldn't care less about vanity when he poured his energy into the lab daily. In the same way, he cared about his looks he gave the same effort into cultivating relationships. Like the mirror, Viktor didn't spare a glance at someone who wasn't interested in conversing about his projects or his vision for a better world. You were the complete opposite. You took life one step at a time, a personification of stopping to smell the roses come to life. As an artist, you look to beauty in the everyday. Perhaps it was fate your paths crossed, usually, you never dared enter the science wing of the academy but you had finished your painting early and wanted to go on a stroll to clear your mind. It was intimidating being around the brightest minds in Piltover. Most of them looked down on your profession. What was art compared to science? They'd mock you as you passed them, believing their work was revolutionary and way more important than a simple painting. It unnerved you but you'd never show it. A string of curses left Viktor's lips at another failed attempt at the Hexcore. Progress day was just a few weeks away and he had nothing to show for. As he hit his hand on the table in frustration, the vibration pushed the lab door open. The light from the small room shone on your face as you passed. Hearing a man's frustration you cautiously peaked your head through the door. You couldn't see exactly who was in the room but you could make out his back. The man was slender but had broader shoulders clad in a maroon button-up and white vest. His hair was a deep brown that flitted out over his ears. The room was messy, not as messy as your studio. You could see the genius behind the papers strewn over the desks and the many machines being worked on with the smell of oil in the air. Feeling the unusual sensation of being watched, Viktor turned his head to the side finding the door had been breached open. With a cramped hand, smeared graphite from all the writing he had been doing, he grabbed his cane and made his way to close the door. He pushed the opening gently finding the scene of you sitting on the floor, scribbling furiously in your notebook. His amber eyes drifted over your, messy locks tied in a ponytail, paired with gentle features that harmoniously made your face look perfect if it wasn't for the paint smudges on your cheek. He took a peak at your sketchbook finding familiar figures on the page of him in the lab. "What are you doing here little mouse?" He spoke in his soft accent. You stopped sketching and looked up, eyes widening at his presence. "I um...I was just passing by. I'm (y/n) part of the arts department." You looked down at your drawing, cheeks flushed with embarrassment at being caught. The handsome inventor crouched in front of you to sit. He held out one hand, "May I see?" You nodded and pushed your book into his hands, eyes boring into his face. Even under the dimly lit hallway of the academy, he was much more attractive. The flicker from the bulbs danced on his high cheekbones and you swore you could see the specks of brown in his amber eyes. Viktor scanned the page in detail. It was fascinating how you were able to so accurately portray his figure and inventions. Every nutt and bolt and every curve of his body you conveyed beautifully. "This is amazing (y/n)." He gave you a small smile. You beamed shyly in response. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear you spoke up, "May I? Sit with you and draw you?" Albeit shocked at your request his eyes widened.

Frighted you might have scared him off you waved your hands, "If not its okay, I should be getting back anyways." You grabbed the book from his hand and shoved your supplies in your bag.

Before you could bolt away a firm grasp held onto your wrist. "You did not give me a chance to answer little mouse." He smiled gently looking down at you. "Come, sit next to me, I would love to be your muse." You smiled giddly and hopped up dashing into the lab. Viktor chuckled at your antics. He had not experienced meeting someone as sparkling as you. It was as if someone had collected a burst of a newborn star and embodied it into a girl. You carefully danced your way around the lab not wanting to knock anything over but also letting your curiosity draw you in. You turned to the sound of a chair scraping the floor. Viktor had sat down and began writing his research again. Dragging a chair next to him you position yourself at his side with enough space to give you the perfect angle of his face and upper body. The almost burnt-out candle on Viktor's desk cleared the way of the darkness while the two of you worked on your delicate craft in silence. The sounds of scratching pencils battled each other as your furious ideas filled the page. Feeling the way your eyes bore into his skin Viktor couldn't help but feel nervous. What if you actually wanted to leave and were staying here out of pity. Why would you want to stay anyways? He wasn't conversing with you nor was he doing anything worth viewing.

Unable to resist his interest any longer he turned to look at you. Your eyes met paired with the warmest smile he's received in a long time. Your smile made his heart flutter in a way that was concerning. Perhaps it was his condition acting up again. Silently you held up your notebook to his face. The breath in his lungs had dissipated. It was...stunning. Was that really him? The page contained 3 versions of himself. Every wrinkle on his face, the curve of his jaw, and even the bags under his eyes were present. Somehow you had made him look...decent, attractive even. "You flatter me too much little mouse, this looks far better than I do in person." You leaned forward pushing your book on the table. "No this is you. This is exactly what you look like." You brought up a slender finger and traced his features. "See this here? Is also here." One had felt his face the other pointed to different places in your picture. "You are beautiful Viktor." With a soft smile, the light flickered on your face showing the freckles that danced on your skin. "Well, thank you little mouse I like your drawings very much." You nodded and flipped the page to continue. The two of you worked in silence for hours. Neither of you spoke a word but the atmosphere felt like a home on a Christmas night. Quiet but comfortable, filled with some kind of magic. "I wish I had my watercolors." Viktor paused at your honey-smooth voice. "Why is that?" He questioned. His eyes fluttered back and forth over your figure. Fresh laundry, paint, and lavender filled his lungs as you let your hair down from your ponytail. "You have these gorgeous amber eyes that I just want to paint but I can't" You pout. Viktor laughed heartily at your confession. "Well, why don't you come tomorrow night. I will be here again and you can paint me." He took an insecure pause. "If you want of course." You nodded before looking at the time. "Oh my it's so late, I'm so sorry for keeping you. I should head back now." Viktor gently held your hand that laid on his shoulder.

"Do not worry, I was going to be here regardless. Actually, I would like to thank you, your presence was most enjoyable." You blushed and brushed a few locks of hair from Viktor's face. "Well, then I'm glad I could be of good company." Packing up your supplies you couldn't help but notice Viktor's disappointed face. With a smooth tear, you ripped the drawing from your sketchbook. Surprised he jumped up thinking you tore the picture.

"Here! Have it. It will be a promise I'll come tomorrow." Realizing you were giving the drawing to him, he gingerly held the drawing staring at the multitude of strokes that somehow compiled into his likeliness. He swore the room was growing warming, what else could excuse the heat filling his chest. "I'll hold you to that, little mouse."

Authors Note: This is currently unedited and a short but maybe Ill come back to it. I just got a burst of energy to write again.

[godnectar]

Yandere himbo? >:)

・✶ ｡ﾟ𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐎 ;

cw: toxic behavior, bae's hot, oblivious and delusional asf, kinda manipulative, jealousy, violence, guilt tripping,,,, justifications + probably a big ass etc. ( inbox )

𖣠 YANDERE HIMBO who possesses a genuinely warm and friendly demeanor that, along with his looks, easily draws people to him. the pure, charming, and easygoing smile he usually wears making it extremely hard for others to suspect anything about his hidden, darker tendencies — reason why you didn't really made a big deal out of his sudden but innocent looking crush towards you and just felt flattered.

𖣠 YANDERE HIMBO whose loyalty absolutely knows no bounds once you two got together after countless of sweet, sincere compliments, some appealing winks, and a few wholesome dates. he's hopelessly devoted to you, willing to go to extreme lengths to ensure his darling's happiness and safety twenty-four seven.

𖣠 YANDERE HIMBO who's cheerful facade is fast to crumble the next second he perceives someone as a threat to your lovely, fairy tale looking relationship, no matter if it's because of one of your friends getting to touchy or just one of your relatives making a disapproving comment about your choice of a partner. even though, he's also quick to apologize whenever you get mad as the familiar, beefy arms that hold you at night get covered with scratches after he holds your acquaintances in a chokehold deep inside an alley hours prior. unsurprisingly, guilt overcomes you as soon as you glance at his pouty lips and furrowed eyebrows, pained by your anger over his instinctive jealousy.

𖣠 YANDERE HIMBO who as much as he lacks intelligence, probably also lacks comprehension for his actions' severity most of the time, leading him to justify some disturbing things such as his hostility, surveillance and obsessive keepsakes by saying it all comes from his undying love towards you, the light of his eyes.

𖣠 YANDERE HIMBO who genuinely thinks there's nothing wrong with what he does. sure, he might not be the brightest bulb in the box, nor the man with the healthiest mental state you'll meet — the latter being pretty noticeable, especially when you catch on the fearful stares some people send among all the praising others unawarely give — but at least he's trying his best at showing you that his... heart throbs only for his sweetling, right?

𖣠 YANDERE HIMBO who desires with all his heart for you to be as head over heels for him as he is for you, never giving up on trying to make you let down all of your guards to share his innermost yearns, fantasizing about an intense, exclusive and unique connection between you two where both seek to become the other's one and only.

"tell me how much you love me, my dear. need to hear you saying there's absolutely no one in your heart but me."

© godnectar 2023. please do not modify, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my permission.

[fafnir19]

Rise of the Phoenix

The university's sauna was a sanctuary for Logan, a place to escape the relentless grind of his studies. He was a scrawny blond freshman, his pale skin and slender frame a stark contrast to the muscular athletes that dominated the campus. But Logan possessed a different kind of power—a brilliant mind that could dissect complex theories and solve problems that left others scratching their heads. Yet, his intelligence was a double-edged sword, isolating him from his peers who often seemed shallow and uninteresting. On this particular afternoon, Logan sought the familiar solace of the sauna, his books and notes temporarily abandoned. His blue eyes scanned the room, taking in the dimly lit sauna, the wooden benches, and the bucket of water with a ladle for pouring. The silence was soothing, allowing him to indulge in his thoughts without interruption. The hiss of the water on the hot stones and the occasional crackle of the wooden benches were soothing companions. The tranquility was interrupted by the arrival of a new presence. Logan lifted his head, his blue eyes adjusting to the dim light, and took in the sight of a young man with the build of a Greek statue. Short black hair, slick with sweat, framed a face that boasted a strong jawline. This newcomer, Trevor, was the polar opposite of Logan—a jock, no doubt, and probably not the brightest bulb on the tree.

Trevor's presence filled the small sauna, making it feel suddenly smaller. "Hey," he grunted, his deep voice echoing off the wooden walls. Logan nodded, unsure how to respond to this stranger. He wasn't used to socializing, especially not with someone like Trevor. Trevor, sensing the tension in the air, offered a nod and a friendly, " Mind if I join you?" His voice, though slightly hoarse, had a certain warmth to it. "Didn't expect to see anyone else in here." Logan, caught off guard by the unexpected company, mumbled a quiet "Sure," his voice almost lost in the hiss of the steam. He shifted on the bench, making room for Trevor, who sat down with a satisfied grunt. Then Trevor spoke again, his voice carrying a hint of desperation to fill the quiet. "So, uh, you a freshman too?" Logan's blue eyes were dull and without any interest in the conversation. "Yeah. Logan." "Trevor." The silence that followed was thick, heavy with the sound of their breathing and the occasional drip of condensation.

Trevor, sensing the awkwardness, attempted to make small talk, but his attempts fell flat. Logan, lost in his thoughts, offered little more than monosyllabic responses. Finally, Trevor hit upon a topic that sparked Logan's interest. "You know, it's not easy being a freshman. Everyone's trying to find their place." Logan's curiosity grew. He found himself wanting to engage in this unexpected conversation. "I know what you mean. It's like everyone's already formed their cliques, and we're left on the sidelines." "Heard about the Phoenix Order, man?" Trevor exclaimed, his voice echoing off the wooden walls. "They're looking for new pledges." At the mention of the Phoenix Order, Logan's eyes narrowed. "Those pretentious jerks? They're like the epitome of arrogance, always strutting around like they own the place. Who'd want to join them?" His voice carried a hint of disdain, a rare emotion showing on his usually stoic face. Trevor chuckled, a deep sound that filled the sauna. "Right? I mean, who do they think they are? Just because they've got the looks and the grades, they act like they're better than everyone else." Logan's tone turned bitter. " Yeah, especially that Aiden, with his silver-tongued charm and those skimpy satin shorts, always showing off his body. As if we don't get it, he's a Greek god."

Trevor chuckled, the sound deep and resonant. "Oh, him, thinks he's God's gift. I can't stand those types. Always got something to prove. But you know who I can't stand the most? Rhet. That guy acts like his intellect is some kind of divine gift. Makes me feel like a dumb jock, which I'm not, by the way. Just because I don't have my nose in a book 24/7 doesn't mean I'm stupid." Logan couldn't help but smile, his pale face softening. "Oh, Rhet. Aiden's little lapdog. Always following him around, nodding like a mindless puppet. I can't stand his know-it-all-attitude, like he's some kind of intellectual, but he's just a snob." Trevor's laughter filled the room, "Hah! I know, right?" ." Logan's joined in to Trevor’s laughter, a sound rarely heard from the reserved freshman, "Yeah, Aiden's got this peacock-like strut, always flaunting his chest and..." He blushed, realizing he was describing Aiden's prominent manhood. "Yeah, they're all style and no substance," Trevor agreed, his voice rising with confidence. "I mean, who do they think they are?" The sauna seemed to get hotter as their conversation grew more animated. Trevor's muscular frame glistened with sweat, and he wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "I mean, who would even want to join that frat?" Logan asked, his voice incredulous. "They're so full of themselves." "Yeah, it's like they're compensating for something," Trevor said, his laughter filling the small space. "Maybe they're not as confident as they seem." As they laughed, a strange camaraderie formed between them, two unlikely allies united in their disdain for the Phoenix Order. Their conversation flowed, a surprising ease settling between them. They gossiped, laughed, and revealed more about themselves than they intended. The sauna, a place of relaxation, had become a confessional of sorts, where two young men found common ground in their insecurities and shared disdain.

As their laughter subsided, a sudden realization hit them. The heat in the sauna had become unbearable. Logan stood up, wiping his palms on his towel. "Wow, it's hot. I think we should take a break." Trevor nodded, his face flushed. "Yeah, let's get out of here." They moved towards the door, but as Logan reached for the handle, his heart sank. "It's locked!" Panic filled Trevor's eyes. "What? No way!" They tried again, pulling and pushing with all their might, but the door remained stubbornly shut. The heat intensified, becoming oppressive. Logan's breath came in short gasps, his skin prickling with heat. "We've got to get out! It's too hot!" Logan's voice rose in desperation. "I'm trying, man, I'm trying!" Trevor banged on the door, his screams turning into moans as the heat scorched their skin. "Let us out! Oh God, it burns!" But it was too late. The sauna had become their inferno, flames licking at the wooden walls, the heat searing their lungs with every desperate breath. They screamed, their voices blending into a chorus of terror— "Help!" "Let us out!" "No, please!" But there was no escape. The fire consumed them, their bodies burning until they crumbled into ash, leaving two small piles on the sauna floor.

Hours later, Logan's and Trevor’s remains were discovered by two members of the Phoenix Order, their eyes gleaming with a sinister light at the scene before them. One knelt down to the ashes, his eyes narrowing in satisfaction. "Perfect. Just what we need." The other, tall and lean, with a condescending smirk, joined him. "Indeed. A fresh start for our little experiment." They collected the ashes, mixing them together in a small pouch.

In the cool evening air, the Phoenix Order gathered in their fraternity house, their laughter and voices echoing through the halls. Aiden, his silver-grey satin shorts and velvet jacket shimmering in the dim light, held a small pouch in his hands. He smiled, his white teeth flashing in the darkness. "Tonight, brothers, we initiate two new pledges. This pouch of ashes will fuel our ritual, ensuring our dominance on campus." The other frat brothers cheered, their voices filled with anticipation.

Aiden stepped into a circle of glowing runes, the ash from the pouch forming a small pile in the center. He began to chant, his voice deep and hypnotic. "Oh, ancient powers, hear our call. Bless these ashes, transform them all. From humble remains, let rise anew, loyal brothers, devoted to you." The room fell silent, save for the sound of Aiden's rhythmic chant. His hand moved to his crotch, stroking the bulge in his shorts as he continued the ritual. The fabric strained against his erection, and with a smooth motion, Aiden freed his cock, the satin shorts sliding down his thighs. "Oh, the power grows, the ritual shows. As I spill my seed, let the ashes heed." Aiden's chant was punctuated by the sound of his hand pumping his shaft, the slap of skin on skin filling the room. His eyes closed in ecstasy as he climaxed, his warm cum shooting onto the ash, igniting an explosion of flames. In that instant, a pillar of flame erupted, a fiery tornado spinning wildly.

From the heart of the fire, a figure emerged, its body taking shape amidst the dancing flames. It was Logan, but not as he had been before. His physique had changed, now boasting lean, toned muscles that rippled beneath smooth skin. He stood taller, his posture exuding a newfound confidence. As the flames licked at his body, Logan's eyes flickered open, revealing a changed consciousness. "Ah, you're awake," Aiden's voice cut through the haze, his tone laced with satisfaction. "What... what happened?" Logan's voice was hoarse, his throat dry from the heat. "You're reborn, my friend," Aiden replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "And you look damn good."

Logan's attention was immediately drawn to Aiden, and he felt a strange sensation. Aiden's signature style, the satin shorts and velvet jacket, which he had once found pretentious, now held an undeniable allure. The fabric's sheen seemed to beckon him, and Logan couldn't tear his eyes away. As if in response to his thoughts, the flames caressed his body, weaving a pair of satin shorts around his slender hips. The fabric was like a lover's touch, sending shivers of pleasure through him. His cock began to stir, growing harder by the second, and the shorts showcased his lengthening shaft. "Oh, you like that, don't you?" Aiden's voice was a low purr. Logan could only nod and a smirk played on his lips while the satin stimulated his glans. "Ah, the allure of satin," he moaned, his voice dripping with newfound arrogance. "I understand now, Aiden." The velvet blazer settled around his shoulders and the flames receded, leaving him standing as a new man.

"Logan," Aiden's voice cut through the haze of the ritual, "do you want to pledge for our fraternity, the Order of the Phoenix?" Logan's mind, once a bastion of intellect, now buzzed with a different kind of power. He felt a connection to Aiden, a bond he couldn't explain. "Yes," he heard himself say, the word echoing in his mind. "I pledge myself to the Order." As the words left his mouth, his thoughts shifted, aligning with Aiden's. The old Logan, with his insecurities and intelligence, faded into the background. He was now a creature of confidence and vanity, a reflection of Aiden's own persona. Aiden's hand rested on his shoulder, a possessive gesture. "Welcome to the frat, little bro. You're one of us now." Logan's grin mirrored Aiden's, a picture of devotion and admiration. He turned his head and noticed another circle nearby, where Rhet, Aiden's right-hand man, was engaged in a similar ritual. Trevor's body was being reformed, his muscles not as pronounced as before, but still exuding an attractive, statuesque quality. Logan felt a twinge of recognition, knowing that Trevor had been through the same transformation. "The combination of Logan's brains and Trevor's brawn was a stroke of genius," Rhet remarked, his voice carrying across the room. "Indeed. They'll make excellent pledges. And their devotion is already evident," Aiden replied, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. Logan's heart swelled with pride at the thought of being a part of this brotherhood. The two new pledges stood side by side, their eyes now filled with admiration for their respective initiators. Devotion - That's what Logan felt as he looked at Aiden. He wanted to follow, to learn, and to become everything that Aiden represented. And Trevor, now under Rhet's wing, seemed to feel the same, a silent understanding passing between them.

Over the next few weeks, Aiden took Logan under his wing, introducing him to the ways of the fraternity and the intricacies of field hockey. Logan proved to be a quick study, his natural intelligence and newfound athleticism making him a formidable player.

Every day, Logan felt himself becoming more like Aiden. He adopted his mannerisms, his charm, and his confidence. The satin shorts and velvet blazer became his uniform, and he wore them with pride, embracing the sensation of the fabric against his skin. Trevor, too, was changing. He spent his days with Rhet, learning the ways of the frat. His intelligence grew, and he became more articulate and Logan's trusted sidekick.

The transformation was complete. The once-scrawny nerd and the muscle-bound jock had merged into a perfect blend, their former selves a distant memory. They strutted through the halls with an air of superiority, their laughter echoing off the walls, a testament to their newfound arrogance. "Can you believe we used to hate these guys?" Logan chuckled, his eyes scanning the admiring glances of their fellow students. Trevor shook his head, his face a mask of disbelief. "I know, right? I mean, look at us now. We're the epitome of what we despised." "But it feels good, doesn't it?" Logan's eyes sparkled with mischief. "The power, the respect, and let's not forget the satin shorts." They shared a laugh, a bond forged in fire and transformation. Logan and Trevor, now brothers in more ways than one, had become the very jerks they had once sworn to detest. But in their new reality, it all made a twisted kind of sense. As they walked away, their laughter fading into the distance, one thing was clear: the Phoenix Order had claimed two new souls, and the campus would never be the same again.

[rainylana]

“My angel baby, I’m here.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: eddie finds out that you self harm.

warnings: reader self harms and is severely depressed, undertones of poor eating habits but very brief, language, lots of tears, blood, angst to the max, mentions of periods.

a/n: this is the longest that i’ve posted yet since getting back into writing and i’m super happy with how it turned out! it is a sensitive topic so it won’t be for everyone. this is dedicated to all the ones who can relate to this fic. i hope you all have an eddie in times when it gets too much. please let me know what you think. it means the world and more than you can imagine.

You knew that what you did was not healthy. You knew it was sick and messed up. You knew that if anyone found out, they’d think that you were insane. The scars you gave yourself had no real reason to be there. You blamed yourself for that. You didn’t know how to deal with your issues any other way. The moment you were alone you’d drift off to the bathroom, turn the shower on and begin your twisted ritual of self abrasions.

Life for you was difficult, but still, marking your self up was no excuse. You had tried to quiet, of course. Many times you had, but it was a habit you could not break. You were too used to doing it. It was an everyday thing. It was like breathing. You breath to live. You can’t not just breath. So for you, cutting yourself was like breathing. You didn’t think you could stop. It helped you deal with your pain.

If you’d have known what the evening was going to hold for you, you would have slit your throat the moment you woke up.

Darkness clouded your mind. Sitting in class, the fog you knew well was storming your brain cells, making everything else fuzzy and hard to understand. Everyone looked blurry, their faces funny and distorted. They sounded odd. Your heart ached and sunk into the pit of your stomach like it always did. You had no way of explaining what this feeling was and what it meant, but you didn’t like it at all. Once it got you, it had you.

You didn’t try to share any of this with Eddie. You didn’t want him to know how much you struggled. Scaring him away was your worst fear. It was why you never let him see the tops of your thighs. Sex was always under the covers. Lights off. Eddie didn’t complain of course. To him, sex was sex.

And god, did you love him. You loved him with your whole heart and soul. You’d be devastated if he knew your secret. It felt awful to bare, this huge burden you carried on your shoulders. You wondered if any of your other classmates shared it too. There was a darkness in your heart that was eating you alive.

“Babe,” A warm, thick hand grabbed your shoulder, pulling you from sinking to the bottom of the pool you were drowning in.

“Huh?” You said a little louder than you’d realized, blinking rapidly as your vision spun around the room. “What?”

You turned around in your seat to find Eddie’s doe eyes narrowed. “You good?” He whispered, leaning closer. “You’ve been staring at the floor for fifteen minutes.” Your class wasn’t even doing anything important. You had a sub, so everyone was doing their own studying or reading. Eddie had been talking to you until you drifted off.

“Oh, yeah.” You nodded with a swallow, grabbing his hand that still laid on your shoulder. “Sorry, Ed.”

“Just checking on my girl.” He gave you a wink that made you blush. “You coming over tonight?”

“Yeah.” You whispered with a fake smile, exhaustion taking over. He could see the way your lips had faltered. You turned back around and laid your head on your desk, arms being your pillow.

Eddie stared at you.

He might not have been the brightest bulb in the shed, but he knew you weren’t the happiest girl in the world. He knew you were sad and weren’t telling him about it. He didn’t know why, but he wasn’t going to pressure you into it, but still, he was worried about you. He wished for one night that they both could talk about you instead of his problems for a change.

Maybe tonight could be the night.

•

You must’ve gotten your period, he figured. Here it was four o’clock in the morning, and for some reason he couldn’t sleep. He had gotten up to get a glass of water but stopped when he’d seen blood seeping through the tops of your sweatpants, the blankets kicked down below your feet.

“Babe,” He said groggily, giving your shoulder a light shake. “Y/n, wake up.”

You hummed back asleep.

“Y/n, I think you got your period,” He rubbed his eyes, leaning over you to switch on the light. “You’re bleeding.”

That woke you up. “Huh?” Your eyes went wide and you sat up. “Oh,” You gasped upon seeing the red leaks of blood seeping from your sweatpants. An inhumane shock of terror left your throat and you leapt from the bed to disappear into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

Eddie, thinking it was your period, thought it was a little funny, even if he was exhausted. He got up and followed you to the door. “Baby, hey, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’ll get some new sheets from the closet, alright? It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You didn’t respond. He waited for a moment to see if you would. He even knocked a few times before giving up and switching out the sheets on the bed. In fact, he did a lot before you actually came out. He changed the bed entirely, knocking again until you muttered a shaky response that you’d be out soon. He bit his thumb nail and paced for another five minutes before he went out for a smoke. He remained seated on the bed when you finally came out.

When he saw you, he knew something was deeply wrong. Your face was white and you were visibly shaken. Your face was stained with dried tears, your eyes bloodshot. Your heart felt like it was broken. This was too close. Nobody had ever gotten this close of finding out. The idea of him knowing made you feel sick. It was your burden and yours alone. It was yours. As sick as it was, it was who you were. Who were you if you didn’t do this? You were so used to it. It was routine for you. Half of the time you did it just to….well, just to do it, to feel something. You were addicted.

“Y/n,” Eddie glanced you over. “what’s wrong? Are you alright?” He stepped toward you, grabbing your elbows lightly. “Hey,”

You sniffled and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go to bed.” You dismissed, now wearing a pair of dark leggings.

“Wait— babe, you’re crying,” He followed you to the bed, watching as you fixed the blanket over yourself. “Are you sick?”

“No, Eddie, I’m fine.” You adjusted your pillow, your body shutting down into survival mode. You needed the situation to be dismissed, shut down. “I’m sorry about the blood, was just my period.”

He sat down on the bed by your thighs. “Don’t be sorry bout’ that, honey. Just want to make sure you’re alright. You need anything? You want some water or something?”

“Eddie, I’m okay.” You stressed, laying down and turning your back to him. “Just forget about it, please.” Your voice broke.

He absolutely did not want to forget about it, not with the way you were trying not to cry. He sat there in the same spot for almost three minutes, eyes glued to your cheek. “Y/n,” He said again. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

You groaned into the pillow. “Damnit, Eddie, lay down!”

“See, I know you,” He shook his head. “You would never be this bothered over your period. Hell, last month you chased me around with your tampon!” He said bewildered, chuckling slightly. “Something else is wrong and you’re not telling me, and when something makes my girl cry, I want to know what it is, so tell me what’s got you so worked up, huh?”

You let out a sob and curled into yourself. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. God, you were so stupid. You shouldn’t have cut so deep.

“Baby,” Eddie frowned, leaning down to lay his torso on you, his chin laying on your shoulder so he could look at you. “Did I hurt your feelings today? Did I say something?”

“No.” You cried into your pillow. “No, Eddie, it’s not you. I promise, it isn’t you.”

He thought maybe he should just drop it, let you go to sleep and maybe it would be okay in the morning, but you were still crying, little puffs and pouts here and there. He couldn’t just dismiss that.

“It’s me.” You found yourself saying, out of the blue.

“What?” He missed what you had said. “I can’t hear you, honey.” He strained his ears to hear you.

“It’s fucking me!” You sobbed into your pillow, chest heaving with a heavy breath that made him jolt. “I’m the fucking problem!”

He had no idea why you were so upset. He didn’t know what to do. He gulped harshly. “Y/n,” He cooed, shushing you gently. He scooted closer, holding you tighter to place a kiss on your temple. “I’m here, baby. Shh, shh, I’m here.”

You let go, sobbing in his arms and into your wet pillow, you broke down in sobs. Most of it was just because you were purely exhausted and you were emotionally drained, depressed. This week you were in a deeper funk than what you’ve normally been in. You hadn’t been eating properly to start. Your showers consisted of laying on the floor and imaging yourself drowning. The idea of Eddie knowing your secret made you want to die, yet you spoke anyway.

“I’m so sad.” You whimpered while Eddie rocked you in his arms, his hands stroking your hair.

He’d thought maybe you’d fallen asleep. You’d been quiet for several minutes. “Why, baby?” He kissed your shoulder.

“I don’t know,” You thought, a crinkle in your nose as you tried to reason why you felt the way you did. “Something is wrong with me, Eddie.”

You were starting to scare him. He’d never heard you talk like this before. He swallowed hard, batting his eyes across the room like his answers were a poster on the wall. “Y/n, if you tell me maybe I can help you.”

God, was help possible? Could you stop? Did you even want to? Who were you if you didn’t have that one constant in your life?

The idea brought on a wave of fresh tears, your lips turning down in a blubbering frown. “You’ll think I’m disgusting.” Your back shook against his broad, bare chest. “You won’t— you won’t ever look at me the same. You’ll think…fuck, you’ll think I’m disgusting.” You sobbed broken-hearted.

Eddie started at your face, features masked in concern. He didn’t know what to do to make you feel better, and his mind was flashing the worst things that could’ve made you so upset, his imagination getting the best of him.

“Sweetheart, I promise whatever you think I’m going to say or do isn’t true.” He leaned over to wipe a tear. “I’m going to love you no matter what you say. That’s how this works, remember? Please, baby, tell me. You’re worrying me.”

Guilt made your heart pound. You let out a long mewl, curling up like a cat so you could cry. Eddie still didn’t let you go. This was your nightmare, yet you, yourself, were making it come true.

“I didn’t get my period.” You said with wet lashes.

“What do you mean?” He narrowed his eyes down at you.

You let out a sob, holding a hand to your stomach. “I mean, I- fuck, I didn’t get my..my- period!” You hyperventilated through your breath.

“Shh, calm down, sweetheart, you don’t have to rush,” He soothed you, rubbing your arms. “Come on, sit up with me.” He gently lifted you by the torso, your hair cascading down your back. You looked like a scared little girl. Your eyes were wet and your face was soaked like you’d been laying in the rain. Eddie sighed, his mouth in a frown as he tried to help you.

“Breath, honey,” He fixed your hair, smoothing it down in rough places.

“I’m so sorry.” You whimpered, grabbing his hands tightly, squeezing them.

“Don’t be.” He shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry for, angel. Just want you to tell me what’s got you so upset. What is it that you want to tell me?” He knew whatever it was, you wanted to tell him. And deep down, you did. Maybe that was why you couldn’t shut the hell up.

“I’m so scared.” You shuttered a breath. “I’m so scared that you’ll…what you’ll think of me.”

His heart was beating loud in his chest. “You said that you didn’t get your period,” He tried to question you gently. “What does that mean?”

Did you really want to do this? Did you want to just let it all go within a blink of an eye? Truthfully, yeah. Yeah, you did. You couldn’t do it anymore. At least not alone.

You sat up slightly, fingertips grabbing the waistband of your sweats as you tugged them down to your knees. You didn’t look at him as you sank back down to sit on your ankles.

“I cut too deep.” You wept, staring down at your thighs. It was your canvas, your target area. They were scared on every inch. Some white and faded with age, some angry and red.

When Eddie saw them, it connected all dots instantly. His eyes widened in horror at your legs. They looked absolutely terrifying. He couldn’t help let out a gasp. “Oh, god, y/n,”

His large palms ghosted over them, and he leaned down so he could examine them closer. “Jesus,” His own eyes blurred with tears, his bottom lip quivering with emotion.

“I know,” You shook your head shamefully. “I know, Eddie, but I can’t help it.” You lifted your head up as you shuttered out a tearful breath. “I can’t stop no matter how hard I try. It’s the only thing that helps me.”

“God, y/n,” He traced your scars with his fingertips, jaw fallen slack in shock.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You bawled. “I’m so…I don’t know, I’m just- just- so miserable and it’s the only thing that seems to help. I’m just so used to doing it and I don’t think I can stop!” You blubbered, snot dripping onto your cupid’s bow and dipping into your lip.

Eddie’s head snapped up. “Oh, baby, come here.” He grabbed you and pulled you into his lap. You crawled to him immediately. He cradled your back as you threw your legs around his waist, your chests flush together in a bear hug. You sobbed into his shoulder, his kisses peppering your neck. “I’m here, I’m here.” He repeated.

“My angel baby, I’m here.”

Your body wracked with moans and groans of heartbreak, but you couldn’t deny the amount of relief that left your soul. It finally wasn’t alone on your shoulders. “God, Eddie, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t.” Eddie hushed you. “You have nothing, nothing at all to be sorry about. I should be apologizing. I should have realized. I had no idea you were unhappy.”

“I’m so fucked up,” Your voice muffled against his skin. “I don’t even know why I’m sad I just- I just am! It doesn’t make any sense!”

“Stop saying that.” He held the back of your head with his palm. “How you feel is perfectly understandable. I’m glad you told me. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, okay? Baby, I’m so sorry you’ve been going through this alone, but I’m right here now, okay? I’m gonna help you through this. I’m gonna help you rise above this because you’re so strong and you don’t even realize it. But you’re my girl and I know.” He rocked you in his arms, cradled you like a baby as you cried. “I know, baby, I’m here, I’ve got you honey.”

“Please, help me.” You fisted his curls, your chest hollow, yet heavy with emotion. “I need help.”

He nodded, whispering soothing words of encouragement as he fought off a wave of tears. “You can get past this. I did.”

You pulled away, your face an absolute mess. Red, snotty and tearful. Your lips pulled down in the deepest of frowns. “Oh, Eddie,”

He turned his elbow in a 90 degree angle, and angle you’ve never exactly examined, and cried when you saw the faded white scars. You went right back to his chest, holding him like a teddy bear. “Oh, Eddie, I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

He held you close and kissed your shoulder, allowing one singular tear to spill that you didn’t have to see. He stopped when he met you. You were his saving grace. He’d be sure and do the same for you. His angel baby.

[cirrus-grey]

I've discovered something cool.

Left: A 100+ year old medicine bottle that my parents dug up in their backyard when I was a kid. Their house is built where the old municipal dump was in the late 1800s, so there were lots of bottles like it buried in the dirt. Right: An ordinary wine glass from the 1990s. Both of these things have been sat on a shelf gathering dust for over a decade.

...Until recently, when I got my hands on a UV flashlight.

[Video description: The bottle and wine glass described above sit next to each other on a table, with the bottle on the left and glass on the right. They are lit from above by a normal incandescent bulb, though the bulb is out of shot. There is a plastic squeaking sound, and the light dims and turns off, leaving the screen dark. There is a click, and a UV flashlight turns on off screen, to the left. Under its light, the bottle glows yellow-green, and the wine glass glows blue. The light holds for a few seconds, then turns off with another click, leaving the screen dark until the video cuts out.]

They glow!!! (These two aren't the only ones either, just the ones with the brightest color.)

There are a lot of different things that can be mixed into glass to make it fluoresce under UV (including, perhaps most famously, uranium). After doing some research, I think I've pinned down these two.

The bottle has manganese, which was (ironically) used to remove the green tint from glass and make it colorless.

The wine glass has lead, which increases the reflectivity of glass to make it more sparkly (and can also leach off into your drink and give you lead poisoning. Whoops!)

As I'm sure you can tell I've been nerding out over this big time. I love when science is pretty :)

[caitchercatlady]

Sleeping Over at Ramshackle w/Rook

Having Rook to use you as his inspiration for a class project seems to be the most dubious thing you've ever heard of. Now that you think of it, anything Rook asks of you seems dubious enough. As weird as the request and excuse are, it is the most in character for Rook, and you can’t think of any reason to say, “No.” It’s only for one evening after all.

That doesn’t mean you have to like it. You expect Rook to be walking around with a small notepad, taking notes of your evening routine. Instead, Rook is attached to you like a puppy brought into his forever home. Your suspicions have shown themselves in the brightest light.

He’s watched you have the dinner that you manage to split between the two of you. He’s watched you clean the dishes by hand (complimenting your hands in the process). It’s when you go upstairs to prep for your shower when you point out the habit within his assignment progress.

“ ‘Tis a photographic memory thing, dear Trickster. I shall put it all together once we depart for bed.”

“If you say so,” you reply. “Just one question. You have no intentions of watching me shower and dress myself, do you?”

“Mes Sept, non! I already have those as the entracte of the assignment.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Rook, but don’t abuse it.”

“You have my word, Trickster.”

Much to Rook’s credit, he keeps it. What you don’t expect is for him to prepare his own guest room instead of you. You feel bad having him do the work. Although his pajamas give you the first smile of the night.

“Non, non, non. My homework is to see your usual routine. Unless you have these overnight rendezvous with friends everyday…”

Rook’s got a point there. You thank him anyway.

The assignment continues as you do your hair brushing and face washing next. Then, you spend a good half hour finishing your homework for class on Monday. All of this is normal enough for Rook not to ask questions.

He starts talking more than the usual when you set your bedroom for sleep. Rook doesn’t ask about your bed, your uniform, your school supplies, nor how you set up your vanity, but rather…

“This light fixture you possess has wondrous design.”

“Thanks. Found it in the attic.”

“It appears it’s used for night purposes?”

“Yeah, so?”

My curiosity is wondering why.”

“Is that gonna be important for your paper?”

“It will add an intéressant detail to the assignment, most certainly.”

“Then, it’s none of your business.”

Rook is taken aback by your harsh statement. He fails to understand what the issue is.

You try to turn on your night light, but it fails to flicker. “Light bulb is busted,” you frustratedly mutter. “I gotta search the broom closet,” you tell Rook as you pardon yourself.

On your way down the stairs, you turn on every light in the path to the downstairs closet. You fetch a new bulb from the closet’s middle shelf. On your way back up, you make sure to shut off each light behind you as you return to your room. Once  you replace the bulb, the problem is solved.

“You’re scared of the dark.” Rook’s statement is not a question.

“I beg your pardon?” you ask.

“You are afraid of the darkness.”

“I’m not six.”

“I didn’t say that. I felt your trembling vibrations when you left. Everyone has a tremble for something. Darkness is yours.”

You throw your hands. “Fine, you got me, but I don’t want you publishing that.”

“I wouldn’t dare to dream of putting you in such a predicament. You have my word.”

Full of shame, you go to bed and hide under the covers.

“Trickster, if you will allow me to ask, is there anything you want me to do?”

You peek out, eyes glistening. “What I want is to be less pathetic.”

Rook cups his mouth. “Mes Sept, you are none of the sort. You are human, as most of us are. Fear is not something to be ashamed of. It can be assisted, of course.”

“Hence this light.” You put at the small lamp. “I hate looking at it sometimes, but if I don’t use it, I can’t sleep.”

“I have une idée to fix that.”

You wonder how. Rook has you turn off the night light first. It’s only dark for a split second when a tiny spark of light magic emulates from Rook’s finger. He explains to you that he will have the light hanging int he room as the two of you fall asleep. Then, when you are in deep sleep, the light will dissipate by morning. You suppose you could give it a try. What exactly do you have to lose?

As said before, Rook leaves the small ball of light in the air. You watch it flat there, a soft delight embracing you. Rook takes to your side as you slowly but sure drift off to dreamland.

How beautiful indeed.

[estellan0vella]

Sunshine's Guide To Murder│Lee Minho

Chapter Sixteen: All This Time SS: 7 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 2.1K Content Warnings: Discussion of drug use & addiction, discussions of rape, recording of rape, discussion of covering up for a rapist Previous Next Masterlist

The living room is bathed in warm light, and the soft clink of wine glasses is the only sound breaking the quiet tension in the room. Felix, Jisung, Minho, and Hayun sit on the couch, each nursing a glass of wine. The air is heavy, charged with the unsaid things lingering between them.

Jisung leans back, stretching out with a sigh, his eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and concern. "Well, Jeongin’s off discovering his latest kink at Chan’s place," he says, voice tinged with humor, though his mind is clearly elsewhere. "So, let’s get back to the case. Minho, did you find Chaeryeong’s old phone?"

Minho lifts the phone from his pocket, holding it up for everyone to see.

Felix’s eyes light up as he nods toward the device. “Did you charge it?”

Minho shakes his head. "No, not yet. I brought the charging wire, though."

Jisung frowns, narrowing his eyes at Minho. "Why the fuck wouldn’t you charge it first?"

Minho sighs, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "I had to steal this from my mother’s house, Jisung. It’s not like I could just waltz in and plug it in."

Jisung opens his mouth to retort but snaps it shut, nodding as he concedes the point. “Fair enough.”

The conversation lulls for a moment before Hayun takes a sip of her wine and breaks the silence. "We still haven’t spoken to Yeji or Ryujin about the case," she says, her voice thoughtful.

Jisung, already distracted by the case, nods. "You and Minho can go tomorrow."

Minho sits up straighter, his expression hardening instantly. "No!" he blurts out before he can stop himself.

Hayun nudges him sharply, trying to subtly shut him up, but Minho isn’t having it. "It’s a bad area," he says firmly, looking directly at Jisung and Felix. "I don’t know if I’m enough to keep Hayun safe. You know where Yeji lives—she’s in an apartment building full of dealers. It’s not a nice environment."

Felix’s face tightens in concern. “He’s right. Yeji’s place... it’s not somewhere you should go, especially not alone.”

Jisung, however, tilts his head, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “There’s something you’re not telling us.” He glances at Felix, then back at Minho and Hayun. "Look, I know we’re not the brightest bulbs in the box—"

"Hey!" Felix protests, though it’s half-hearted, his attention clearly focused on the underlying tension in the room.

Jisung rolls his eyes but continues. "We’re not complete pabos either. You two are hiding something. Don’t think Felix and I haven’t noticed."

Hayun shifts uncomfortably in her seat, gripping her wine glass a little tighter. “I’m fine.”

“Really?” Jisung says, his tone sharp, cutting through the thin veneer of calm. “Because I noticed this.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small, familiar orange bottle with Hayun’s name on it—oxycodone. “I noticed it was almost empty, so I called the doctor to get your prescription refilled, like a good friend. You know what they said?”

Hayun stares at him, her heart dropping.

Jisung’s voice drops to an almost dangerous whisper, “They said Jang Hayun has no record of ever being prescribed oxycodone.” His eyes burn with hurt and anger as he stares her down. “So what the fuck, Yunnie?”

Hayun freezes, her mind scrambling for an explanation. Her gaze flicks to Minho, silently pleading for him to intervene.

But Jisung isn’t having it. “Don’t look at him!” he snaps, his voice rising. “I know he knows. And I bet Jeongin knows too, doesn’t he?” His voice shakes with frustration. “Look at the two friends you’ve been hiding your addiction from. What happened the night of Yuna’s disappearance five years ago? Because you changed that night. You’ve never been the same since.”

Felix, usually the softer one, leans forward, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Hayun… you’re one of the girls Mingi raped, aren’t you?”

The room goes deathly quiet. Hayun doesn’t say anything. She just stares at the wine glass in her hand, her fingers trembling as she grips the stem. She can feel their eyes on her, waiting for confirmation, waiting for something—anything.

Minho steps in, his voice sharp, like a blade cutting through the tension. "That’s enough. Both of you."

Jisung’s gaze snaps to Minho, betrayal written all over his face. "You knew?" His voice breaks. "You knew before us? You knew before me? I’ve known her since we were kids. Felix has been her friend for two years. But you—" He points accusingly at Minho. "You’ve known her what? Four months?"

"Enough!" Minho snaps, standing up, his posture tense.

Jisung, taking a deep breath, tries to steady himself, but the betrayal is clear in his eyes. Felix, sitting beside him, looks down at his wine glass, his eyes glossy, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

Felix’s voice is soft, barely above a whisper. "We could’ve helped you, Yunnie," he says, his voice cracking slightly. "You didn’t have to go through this alone."

The weight of his words crushes Hayun, guilt settling in her chest like a stone. She looks up at them, eyes wide and filled with regret, but no words come out.

Jisung runs a hand through his hair, frustration seeping from every pore. "All this time," he mutters, "all this time you were keeping this from us. After everything... how could you not trust us?"

Hayun swallows hard, her throat tight, but she can’t form the words. What could she say that would make any of this better? That would explain everything?

Felix wipes at his eyes quickly, trying to maintain some composure, but the hurt is plain as day on his face. "We’re your friends, Hayun. We would’ve been there for you."

Minho, now standing protectively near Hayun, shakes his head. "This isn’t the time for this. You have no idea what she’s been through."

Jisung turns on him, anger flashing in his eyes. "Don’t act like you’re the fucking protector here, Minho. You’ve barely been around, and yet, you’re the one she confides in?" He shakes his head, voice trembling with emotion. "I can’t believe this."

Minho steps forward, his voice steady and commanding. "I’m not protecting her because she chose me over you two. I’m protecting her because she needs it."

Jisung’s mouth opens to argue, but nothing comes out. Instead, he looks at Hayun, the disappointment evident on his face.

"Yunnie," Jisung says softly, his voice cracking, "if you ever trusted me at all, tell me the truth. What happened that night?"

Felix tries to mask his tears with a small, sad smile. "It’s okay, Yunnie. You can tell us. We’re not mad... we’re just—"

"Hurt," Jisung finishes, his voice breaking. "We’re just... hurt."

“She never told you,” Minho starts, his voice steady but somber, “because your sister knew.”

Jisung’s head snaps up, his eyes wide and confused. “What?”

Minho sighs, glancing at Hayun before he continues. “Remember how we said an anonymous source came forward? It wasn’t anonymous. It was Hayun. Yuna would drug the girls, Mingi would rape and record them, and Lia would distract anyone who came looking for the girl.”

Jisung stares at Minho in disbelief, his mind spinning as he tries to piece everything together. “So, when Lia was helping me look for Hayun at that party...”

Minho nods grimly. “Lia knew where Hayun was the whole time. She led you on a wild goose chase, keeping you away from what was really happening.”

Jisung’s face crumples, his hands trembling as they come up to cover his face. “My dad... My dad was fucking Yuna—his student—and my sister’s been protecting and helping a rapist? My family—” His voice cracks. “I— Oh my God.”

Minho’s voice softens slightly, trying to ground Jisung in this horrifying moment. “Mingi blackmails the women with the tapes he keeps. That’s another reason Hayun never said anything. He had power over them.”

Jisung can’t hold it in any longer. He reaches out for Hayun, pulling her into a tight hug. His grip is almost desperate, as if he’s trying to apologize for everything—his family, his ignorance, the trauma she’s had to carry alone. He buries his face in her shoulder, mumbling apologies over and over again, his words thick with guilt and pain.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Yunnie.”

Hayun doesn’t cry, though the weight of his emotions presses heavily on her. She runs her hand gently up and down his back, offering silent comfort as his sobs rack his body. His apologies fall on deaf ears—she doesn’t need them, not now—but she lets him get it out. This pain isn’t just his, but something they all have to bear now.

Across the room, Felix isn’t handling it any better. He’s slumped over, face buried in his hands as he sobs uncontrollably. He’s always been the sensitive one, and right now, this truth is too much for him. He trembles as the sobs wrack through him, his breaths coming out in broken gasps. The devastation on his face is hard to watch.

Minho keeps a steady hold on Hayun’s hand, his own expression hard, though his eyes betray a deep sadness. He’s holding himself together for her, but the rage simmering beneath the surface is palpable. Everything he’s learned about Yuna, Mingi, and now Lia—it’s enough to send anyone over the edge.

“We need to stop the investigation for now,” Felix finally manages to choke out, wiping at his tear-streaked face. “We need to find those tapes before anything else happens.”

Hayun’s voice cuts through the room, calm and resolute. “Then I need to speak to Mingi.”

Her words send a shockwave through the room. Minho freezes, his grip on her hand tightening instinctively. Felix and Jisung both look at her, wide-eyed, the tension in the room suddenly suffocating.

“What?” Minho’s voice is low, dangerous. “No. Absolutely not.”

Felix, his face still red from crying, shakes his head rapidly. “Hayun, no, you can’t. You can’t face him alone.”

Jisung stares at her in disbelief. “Hayun, that’s not—that’s not an option. After everything he’s done to you, you can’t be thinking about confronting him.”

Hayun remains eerily calm, though her eyes are locked on Minho’s, the determination in her gaze unwavering. “I have to,” she says firmly. “If we’re going to find the tapes, if we’re going to take him down, then I need to be the one to face him. I can get information from him that no one else can.”

Minho is visibly tense, his face set in hard lines as he struggles to keep his composure. “You’re not going near that bastard again. I won’t let you.”

“You don’t get to make that choice,” Hayun counters, her voice steady. “I know what I’m doing.”

“No, you don’t,” Minho growls. “He’s dangerous, and you think you can just walk in there and manipulate him? This isn’t some casual confrontation, Hayun. This is the man who raped you.”

Hayun’s eyes flicker, but her resolve doesn’t falter. “That’s exactly why I have to do it. He thinks he still has control over me. He doesn’t. Not anymore.”

Felix, still clutching his wine glass, looks at her pleadingly. “Please, Yunnie. We can find another way. We’ll figure something out.”

Jisung is shaking his head, running his hands through his hair in disbelief. “This is... no, this isn’t how we do it. We can’t risk you like that.”

Minho leans forward, his voice low and filled with barely-contained anger. “You think this is about control? This is about survival, Hayun. You walk in there, and he’ll destroy you. He’s done it before.”

Hayun’s jaw tightens, her grip on Minho’s hand tightening as well. “Not this time,” she says, her voice like steel. “This time, I’m going to make sure he loses.”

The tension in the room is unbearable, each of them grappling with the horrifying reality that Hayun is willing to put herself in harm’s way to bring down the man who hurt her.

Minho doesn’t let go of her hand, even though his whole body radiates with anger and fear. He can see the resolve in her eyes, but it doesn’t make this any easier. If anything, it makes it worse.

“If you go through with this,” Minho finally says, his voice quiet but firm, “I’m going with you.”

Hayun turns to him, her expression softening just a fraction. “No, Minho. You can’t.”

“Then I’m not letting you do it,” Minho shoots back, his voice resolute. “If you’re going to face that monster, you’re not doing it alone. Not this time.”

The room falls into a tense silence once more, the weight of the decision looming over them all. None of them want to accept what’s happening, but they know there’s no turning back now.

Hayun finally nods, her hand still held tightly in Minho’s. “Okay. But if we do this, we do it my way.”

Taglist: @hityoulikebahng @drewsandsebastianswife @fackeraccount @lily-loves-kpop @stilldontknowhoiam

@ziggy1221 @justaspoonofjam @tr-mha-fan @candycurshidkwhatthehell @heeseungspookie

[rescuebabiesau]

Something something I would like to know more

More about Bee's team on your au because there's not much about them (not that I know at least) pleaseeeee🫶

I'm going to assume you mean GOTP since I haven't really covered them much for that one, but if not then that can be a separate post XD

Strap in, we've got a ways to go—

Bumblebee

He is promoted to lieutenant on Cybertron, but— much like many other autobots of the War-Era— he finds an oddly widespread dislike of him, even from his fellow Autobots. He finds an overeager fan in Strongarm, but even that isn't enough to fully pull him out of the slump he's felt since the war ended, especially after losing Optimus, his mentor, on top of everything else.

Suddenly, he's been summoned back to Earth by the ghost of Optimus Prime, to protect it from an unknown threat. He hijacks a spacebridge against High Council regulations, and finds Strongarm and Sideswipe dragged with him. While he's happy to return to Earth, there's a sadness and anxiety that comes with it, as it was the last place he saw Blades before laying him to rest.

Even after Sigma Seventeen is found to be revived, Bumblebee remains overprotective of his team, not wanting to lose them to an accident like he did the others...

Sideswipe

Sideswipe is labelled by some as a troublemaker and snoop, but really, he's a young bot on a mission. One afternoon, without warning, his twin brother Sunstreaker was arrested on unknown charges right in front of him and then disappeared, even from Sideswipe's twin-bond that normally would lead him right to his other half. Sideswipe is determined to find his brother, even get arrested himself so he can hack federal logs from his cell.

Being handcuffed to a young cop wannabe and dragged through an illegal spacebridge portal to some Primus-forsaken planet was not on his To-Do list, and he holds a grudge against Strongarm for delaying his efforts.

Sometimes, when Sideswipe gets particularly heated, some have mentioned seeing a strand of light from him that reaches into the heavens. What it is or where it's tied to, nobody knows... yet.

Grimlock

The Dinobots— and non-vehicle-moders really— aren't seen as being the brightest bulbs in the street sign, and Grimlock knows it. Formerly a popular player on the Cube scene, Grimlock and his fellow dinobot friends named themselves in commemoration of their ancestors' sacrifice back in the day, and fight to prove they deserve equal treatment amongst the masses despite their kind's reputation.

During a brief meetup at the local oil house, the team came under attack by a decepticon gang in the back alley. The tremendous damage to the establishment was blamed on the dinobots as the gang fled before the authorities arrived, and Grimlock was imprisoned on the Alchemor while the rest of his team was imprisoned elsewhere (To keep their "Leader" from plotting an escape plan)

The T-Rex-Moder awoke when the prison ship crashed on the distant planet of Earth, which is mysteriously the source of the Dinobots' original design specs.

He wants to clear his and his team's names and get back to a normal life, but getting information on his team's location is hard when he's stranded on Earth with limited communication to Cybertron...

Drift

Drift was one of Shadowstriker's enforcers before defecting after seeing the mech abusing some younglings he'd "taken in," Jetstorm particularly. He fled his former master with the twins in tow.

Much like Quickshadow going by Slipchain, Drift is not the name on his registration papers, and thus Drift is an unregistered figure that is known by name only and quite the mythical figure in bounty-hunting circles.

He considers himself a parental figure to the minicons, but is too afraid to admit it aloud.

His blades were stolen off of a Quintesson warrior he took down as Deadlock, and thus are highly valuable on the black market if someone were able to "Take them off his hands..."

Strongarm

Strongarm was raised on the stories of the Great War and the heroic members of Team Prime. Kaon Plaza is her favorite place, the speeches of Optimus Prime her favorite literature— you could say that Team Prime is her entire personality.

Because of her fangirl attitude towards Bumblebee, her captain kept secretly assigning her to any other officer in the precinct to allow Bumblebee to actually do his job. Ultimately, he had to let Bumblebee take her as a ride-along before she realized he was doing this on purpose, and sadly that was the day they wound up on Earth.

She thinks that Bumblebee took a lower-class job out of humility, and Bumblebee's not really sure how to tell her that he's only a beat-cop because nobody else would hire him.

Strongarm is one of the few "Newborn" bots whose processor frequency is incompatible with the mind-control signal that isn't related to a War-Era bot.

[imaginidol]

Taemin: Stars Under the Rain

“Taemin!” You hissed at the giggling boy as he practically jogged away from you with your shared umbrella, leaving you to be slowly soaked under the evening rain’s mist.

“You menace,” you whisper, pulling at his ear once you’ve caught up to him for the umpteenth time. “If I have to say your name one more time, someone’s gonna recognize you and the rest is history!”

Taemin only giggled some more and looked around the street at the walking pedestrians around you.

“What if a reporter hears us? Me with you? How funny do you think the headlines will be?”

“Taemin, that’s not funny!” You can’t help but stifle a short laugh at the ridiculousness of the boy in front of you.

“Fine, how about you hold the umbrella now?” He offers you the bright green umbrella along with a sheepish grin.

“Wow, thanks, Tae,” you roll your eyes at the realization that the only reason he returned the umbrella was because evidently, the mist had suddenly stopped.

He giggles again and pulls his hoodie over his head.

“Okay, okay,” he smiled, offering you his hand. “I’ll be good now.”

You pinched his arm before generously accepting his hand, wrapping your cool fingers around his.

While he was a bit of a menace to be around, you appreciated and loved the way Taemin would turn into a completely comfortable and playful version of himself when he was with you. There weren’t too many people he would show this side to.

“Look,” he says, stopping shortly before a line of street-way trees decorated with holiday lights.

You look up to see where his eyes have landed. You’re taken aback by the breathtaking sight of brightly-lit trees. While you always knew the city decorated their trees for the holidays, you had never actually stopped to admire the work put into the heavenly sight and how beautifully it complemented the dark sky at night.

“Wanna know what I think of these trees?” He looks at you quietly.

“Tell me what you think,” you reply.

“I really like how each bulb, regardless of its shape or size, is very pretty on its own. It’ll light up the dark pretty well. But I do prefer how they all complement each other when they’re all together, different shapes and different sizes. They look like cosmos when they’re all together.”

“I like that thought,” you say, admiring the twinkling lights all around you both. “Do you see those star-shaped lights, Tae? I think of you as one of those, in a sense.”

“Is it because I’m an artist and being a ‘star’ is my career?” He smiles.

“That’s too literal, Tae. I mean like… you’re very admirable in your own way. Inside and outside of your career. You work hard for what you give, you give your best when someone asks for your advice. You have people all around you that support you and help you succeed well. It makes you stand out like one of these star-lights. And if you put you and your supporters together… you all become a big, lit-up beautiful tree. You give inspiration to many in more ways than one.”

Taemin was quiet for a while, soaking in your calming words. The corners of his lips would curl to the tiniest of smiles when he thought of you at times like these.

“You know,” he says after a while, “I appreciate the way you see me for me, in and out of my career. But you’re missing something in your analogy.”

“What am I missing?”

“While it may be a beautifully lit-up tree that I’ve cultivated over my life, it takes just one precious person to notice it all and truly appreciate its existence. You see me and you appreciate me, my supporters, my life when the lights are turned off, my life when I’m shining at my brightest. I appreciate having you be that person. You make me feel very… seen.”

Your cheeks redden warmly and you can’t help but pull your boyfriend’s face close to plant a sweet kiss against his cheek, to which he smiles and returns one against your lips.

One, two, four little kisses later, the mist of rain is back. This time, you have the upper-hand with holding the umbrella. You realize this and immediately jog away from Taemin, leaving him in a heap of shock and giggles as he runs calling after you, the rain mist hitting his face and yours as you both briskly ran away under the brightly shining holiday trees.

[annathefenecfox]

Symbolism of the Smiling Critters' necklaces.

☀️Sun☀ The sun represents vitality, passion, courage and eternal youth. It symbolizes knowledge, intelligence. As the brightest of all celestial bodies, the Sun is a symbol of royal greatness and imperial splendor, and in most traditions the Sun is a symbol of masculinity. The sun is often represented as the son of the supreme god, and sometimes symbolizes his gaze or his radiant love. The sun is the "world door", the entrance to knowledge and immortality.

🌘Crescent🌘 Its origin can be traced back to ancient civilizations such as the Sumerians, who used it as a symbol of the moon god Nanna. In some cultures, it is believed that it represents the passage of time or the change of phases of life. In others, it is a symbol of fertility and the changing seasons. Regardless of interpretation, the crescent symbol remains a constant reminder of the cyclical nature of life, which is constantly changing and in constant motion.

🌈Rainbow and flower🌸 The rainbow symbolizes transfiguration, heavenly glory, the throne of the god of Heaven, the meeting of Heaven with Earth, the bridge or the border between the worlds. In many cultures, it was a sign of God's infinite mercy and his love for people. The heavenly serpent is also associated with the rainbow, as it can also be a bridge between two worlds.

Flowers blooming in many colors and shapes symbolize beauty, fragility and transience. Their ephemeral nature embodies the fleeting beauty and cyclical nature of life, embodying birth, growth, reproduction and decay. Each type and color has its own symbolism.

💡Light bulb💡 The light bulb symbolizes the vitality and energy of life. Symbolism Meaning In general, a light bulb is a powerful symbol representing many important ideas and concepts. It is a reminder of our ability to create, innovate and understand the world around us. The invention of the light bulb by Thomas Edison in 1879 had a profound cultural impact on our world.

⚡Lightning⚡ Lightning represents spiritual enlightenment, enlightenment, revelation, the descent of power, the unexpected embodiment of truth, breaking through time and space, the eternal now, the destruction of ignorance, fertilization, sustenance, masculine strength. Like the rays of the sun, lightning is considered both beneficial and destructive. So was Achilles' spear, capable of inflicting wounds and healing. Lightning is associated with all the gods of storms and thunderstorms.

♥️Heart♥ The heart is a symbolic source of experiences - love, compassion, responsiveness, joy or grief, but also a source of spiritual enlightenment, truth and intelligence. It was often equated with the soul. Many ancient cultures did not distinguish between feelings and thoughts. A man who "lets his heart rule his head" was considered more reasonable than stupid. Symbolically, the heart was the sun for the body, animating everything.

🍎Apple🍎 The apple, as a symbol, means fertility, love, joy, knowledge, wisdom, deification and luxury, but at the same time, deception and death. The apple was a forbidden fruit of the Golden Age. Being round, it represents integrity and unity and is opposed to a pomegranate consisting of many grains. As the fruit of the Tree, the apple also symbolizes immortality. And to offer an apple is to make a declaration of love.

⭐Star⭐ In many cultures, stars are considered a symbol of hope, truth, and guidance. They can represent the inner light within each of us, leading us to our true life path. The shape of the star is also often associated with divinity, as seen in the Star of David and the symbols of the Star and Crescent.

(I hope that you will like it, after all, this topic is interesting to me. Plus, write what else I can find symbols for)