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mountain-wire · 7 months

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September.

Rise raph + Reader (yall are strangers, so.)

Warnings: Guitar.

I was listening to September by Sparky deathcap... enjoy, i suppose!

Im throwing spaghetti at the wall and hoping it sticks with this one

~~~

Raph walked... and walked... he was lost, and in kraang territory. His shawl could only do so much to disguise him from the kraangs view...

It'd only been a year or so since the beginning, and he still wasn't as adapted to the apocalypse as much as he would like to say. It was taking it's toll on him, thats for sure.

He was lost, and his brothers should find him pretty easily with Donnies tech, but Raph wasn't sure what exactly he was supposed to do in this situation. There wasn't much to hide in, or to go to for sanctuary from the kraang in general. This place was flooded, and Raph was taking his sweet time trying to avoid these new dogs the kraang unleashed... they were freaky, to say the least.

Eventually, he stopped. In front of him was a wall of untouched trees. How...? It didn't make much sense. In fact, it made no sense. It was such a contrast, the burn land Raph was standing in, versus the lively green and brown of the treeline in front of him. Sure, quite a few of the trees were dead and also burnt, but a lot of the trees behind them were alive just as much as a year ago, being mixes of yellows and oranges and even some greens still. September...

Raph decided to test his luck in there, in the forest. Whatever was keeping the kraang out had to be better than the kraang itself... it was from earth, after all. Even that didn't make sense, why would anything from earth keep the kraang out? Nothing about this made sense.

The humidity retained by the trees and their leaves felt nice on Raphs skin, it was so hydrating after how long he'd fought in the kraangs fire.

There was another problem now, though. He was alone. Raph held onto the tails of his mask tightly, breathing in and out, in and out, to calm himself down. His separation anxiety had only gotten worse since the apocalypse started. He knew that he had to be able to be okay without his brothers, especially now, but it was hard. What if something happened to them? What if they got hurt?? What if he wasn't there to help??? Most of these scenarios involved the kraang finding them.

He leaned against a nearby tree, snapping a twig on the ground in the process. This made him feel worse. The kraang were drawn to noise as much as they were movement, he didn't want to have dogs chasing him through the forest. Even worse, what if one of the kraang itself heard and went to check out the snapping twig noise?? Not only would he be in danger, the forest would be too. The kraang would surely realize anybody could be hiding in the forests shadow, and then it'd burn it down! It'd be miserable, even in death, to think that because he stepped on a twig once the last remaining forest in the New York area would be burnt down.

Yeah his anxiety was working double right now. He pulled on the tails of his mask again, trying to ground himself. Get those thoughts out of his mind. He sat down with his shell against the tree, the spikes scratching it lightly.

He worked to calm himself, though it proved to be majorly ineffective.

He closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly together and imagining his brothers okay and looking for him.

But... a few seconds after he heard something. Something very definitively not kraang. A guitar. Who would play a guitar while the kraang were a thing now??? Especially outside! In the open, mostly, where the kraang could come up at any time!

He thought about it for a second, before slowly and quietly getting up and sneaking his way towards the tune. It sounded vaguely familiar... not entirely in a way where he's heard the song before, but just sort of in the way where it's something he used to know. Guitar, that is. Understandably, nobody dared to play anything anymore.

He peeked around trees, looking around to make sure the coast was clear from any incoming threats or dangers. This was a good way to keep his mind off of things...

Soon he reached the source of the noise. A person, sitting next to a tree, that was next to a small pond or something.

Raph stared at them from behind a tree, mostly out of confusion and concern.

They hummed along to the music they played, seemingly where words would have been if they were singing.

"...Hey." Raph said, trying to get their attention while also staying quiet.

They looked up, slowing the movement of their hands and fingers.

"Hey."

They stared at each other for a moment. This felt awkward, in multiple ways. They both were thinking for different reasons.

"You gonna... come out of the shadows, or...?" The shook their head as they spoke, feeling weird that they had to even ask this... stranger to do that. It felt like something out of a movie that had an odd vibe on purpose.

Raph looked around in every direction, along with listening at the same time. He had to make sure that it was clear to go towards the noise.

He walked forward towards them, until he was standing in front of them.

"What are you doing???" Raph questioned urgently, as if this were a total life or death situation. In a way it was.

The person with the guitar shrugged, looking back down at their guitar before putting it down next to them.

"Playing."

"Why??? It's dangerous!" Raph crouched down next to them, trying to be more on their level so that he could get through to them easier.

"It's less dangerous than you think. Relax." They said in return, gesturing towards the ground beneath them.

Raph stared at them with furrowed brows, not believing them.

They seemed calm though... and they weren't freaking out themselves... maybe he could join them for a moment. Just a moment.

He sat down, joining them on the healthy grass, though he didn't look particularly happy about it.

"How can it possibly be less dangerous than i think? The kraang will find you with you making that much noise."

"They follow noise, i know." They nodded as they spoke.

So they knew! They knew and made noise anyway. Did they want to die?

Raph had a bit of a dumbfounded look on his face, his hands resting on his thighs. He just stared at them in disbelief.

"So... you know that and you're making noise anyway??? Why would you do that?" Raphs concern came through his voice unfiltered.

"I've been watching them. I've realized things," they paused, looking to the pond beside the tree. "They haven't come into the forest yet, right? Despite the whole... apocalypse thing. They want to get rid of life, I know I know."

"They seem to be targeting the more populated areas right now... the city. Nip it in the bud, i guess." There was a good chance they weren't using that phrase right. They didn't seem to care, though.

Raph looked to the side, over to the pond that the stranger was looking at as well. He didn't say anything in response, he was surprised.

"My guitar means nothing to them while theres still life in that residential area. The sound doesn't draw them in... not yet, anyway." They didn't seem... bothered.

"I imagine it will soon, though. When most of the life over there is dealt with, they'll either move on to another part of the city, or they'll come here."

The concept of doom and the fate of the forest seemed to weigh uncomfortably little on their mind.

"And you're just... okay with that...?" Raph almost whispered, seeming shocked that anybody would just... be okay with that problem.

"It's not like i can do much about it. I have a guitar, and that's it. I can't fight em so I'm appreciating this while i still can." They leaned their head back against the tree, feeling the bark on the top of their head.

"Oh."

A few beats of silence passed.

"Can I stay here with you for a little...?" Raph questioned. Just speaking with this person seemed to get his mind off of the fact that he wasn't with his brothers.

As short as their conversation was, it did help.

"Of course." They responded, picking up their guitar again and starting to play.

Ah, that's why it was familiar. September by Sparky Deathcap.

This was one of the more positive ways to end the month.

#rise of the tmnt #raph x reader #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #tmnt #rottmnt raph #tmnt x reader #rottmnt raphael #platonic?#romantic?#whatever yall want bby

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bluebloodedbug · 7 months

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RID Transformers Reactions To GN Bot Reader Leaning Against Them While Laughing, Part 1

(Bumblebee, Sideswipe, Strongarm, Grimlock, Fix-It, and Drift) ((Could be platonic or romantic, your choice!! <3))

Bumblebee

"Oh. Um..." He freezes as his processor runs through combat protocols. Bumblebee forces himself to shut down the procedure, and carefully, gently, slowly wraps his arm around your shoulders to hold you steady while you tremble with laughter.

Drift

"Are you alright, (YOUR NAME)?" His voice is steady and level, but through your fit of laughter, you swear you see the slightest smirk on Drift's face. He pats your shoulder fondly while you lean into him.

Fix-It

"Oh my! Please, be cared--careful!" The medic lifts his arms and you fall into his lap. Your body shakes and twitches aggressively as hearty laughter spills from your intake. Fix-It gives you an embarrassed expression and drops his servos, not able to do anything about the uproarious laughter or the fact that you're practically crushing him.

Grimlock

He doesn't know what just happened, but the dinobot instictually starts laughing, too! He leans against you, the same way you leaned against him, and thick tail wraps around you to hold you in place while you both howl and snicker. He's just happy to be included.

Sideswipe

The resident prankster of Team Bee slides down in his seat, also laughing. He grabs your servo for support and holds it in the air between you two as he jerks and coughs into his other hand.

Strongarm

"(YOUR NAME), it's not funny." That just makes you laugh harder, leaning all your weight into Strongarm's side. She groans and tries to shoulder you off, just for you to flop back onto her arm.

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allthingsbeginningwith-a · 4 months

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My god, I'm so confused. I think I'm falling in love, Heck, I might've been in love for a long time now. I don't know who I like, or who I love. Is this love romantic? Platonic? Queerplatonic? All I know is that I love you so deeply, so very much so very fiercely that I never loved anyone like this before. I want to take all your pain away and cradle your heart in my hands and make you the happiest person on earth.

I get so jealous of other people who can make you laugh so easily, Because I forget that I'm one of them too, or am I? It just seems too good to be true. I would pack my love neatly in a suitcase and travel far, far away if that made you happy, Even if it might end me. I love you so much that it's all I can think about sometimes, And I'm so, so confused.

#am i in love?#what is this feeling #romantic?#qpr #alterous attraction #i just wanna hug her #love you so much #confused love #someone explain

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lemme-just-oops · 1 year

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Can you do the Arcana Twilight boys reacting to mc who loves giving them affection but when they get affection they cry because they are the one who always gives affection please?

Hope this isn't too much! Have a great day!

Alpheratz: This giant can be lazy, and likes his personal space. But even he knows to show appreciation to those he holds dear. When he realizes that he just made you tear up, he believes that he insulted you without realizing. Asks what the matter is and will softly wipe away every tear.

Arcturus: He will not leave you alone until you understand that you are worthy of being loved and appreciated. The road there will be long and exhausting, but he will make sure you give yourself the positive attention that you need, every day.

Pollux: NO. He will fight your tears away by hugging you so tightly, your body will stop functioning for the entire time. Sends you motvational quotes every few days because they help him with his confidence and may help you learn to see your worth too.

Sirius: He understands in what environments you will blossom and which ones let you whither. He is not physically affectionate, but he knows how to make anyone believe his words. So when he tells you of how you are the morning rays in his darkest nights, they may cause you to tear up, but he will tell you that he means every word of it. Might also guide you in a different direction in life, where even the people around you will treat you positively, but he would never confess that he does this.

Spica: Every evening at 18:30, you are to meet him from now on and just listen to him as he tells you all the things he is proud of. Even if it is just small things that do not mean a lot to you, he notices and he wants you to know how wonderful your uniqueness is. And with that set schedule, he will have you cry but get used to being shown affection, while also able to rant on about you.

Vega: He is really sorry for making you cry, and will hold back for a moment. Asks you if you are uncomfortable and if you want him to take a step back, just in case you feel overwhelmed and need space for yourself. Even if you assure him that everything is fine, he will take it slow. Telling you that you look better one day, buying you something another. He hates seeing you cry, even if they are tears of joy, and wants to avoid thism

[Author notes]

I wrote these ones first, but then I realized that I misread the prompt. But take them as bloopers.

Alpheratz: Him and crying? As unlikely as it sounds, it does happen on occasion, though usually he can teleport away before anyone sees. But this time he does not, and he certainly tries not to hide it either. His cheeks just rub against yours and he sobs between all he is saying, while the tears rub against your cheeks.

Arcturus: DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH HE NEEDS THIS?! This man has always been there for everyone, smiling from ear to ear just to make their day even the tiniest bit better. But has anyone ever shown the same to him? Has anyone ever lifted the burdens he swallowed for everyone else's sake? No. So as soon as he cries, he will not stop until the exhaustion takes over and sleep finally rests him.

Pollux: This man does not cry, he claims. That morning, he cried because snakes do not have arms. He barely ever cries from tragedies, such as loss. They just turn him numb. But he does cry from joy quite often. So, when you show him the affection you feel, he gets teary eyes, but will not cry fully.

#i wont lie #spica is such a green flag in canon and fanon #get yourself a spica #arcana twilight #pollux #sirius #vega #arcturus #alpheratz #otome game #request #spica #affection #romantic?#romantic arcana

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amethyst-aster · 3 months

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35: Love or Sex?

Sex is something I crave a lot

But love is beautiful-wanting to be around a person a lot and they make you feel warm and happy and giddy and light, bringing you into a place where you feel loved and appreciated. Finding that person(s) who just makes everything better and who you connect with. Even just saying hello or hugging or smiling. It’s all so powerful and rooted in love. Love and joy and acceptance

#Am I talking about a group?#Yes #am I talking about a single person?#am I talking about platonic love?#Romantic?#yes #love makes you better #Sex does not #Love makes you a better person who wants to live and love too

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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years

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Night like this

Okay @sorisooyaa, it's your turn.

Special thanks to @medusas-hairband for the reading and the support ❤️ This would not be out there, for better or for worse, without your love.

Here goes my big leap; this is a love letter to the authors having seen my name pop up in their notifs in the last few weeks, a love letter to their imagination and to the beauty of their words.

It's also a humble offering to the people who have been kind and gentle to me in the SWG and the TRSB server. Thank you for your patience and for building a poor wretch like me up...

Words: 2 230

Warnings: It's a slightly incestuous pairing! There will be innuendo (and not just a little) but no explicit stuff...It's also a wild blend of tropes and HCs I've fallen in love with as a reader

Pairing: Maedhros/Fingon, Maglor/Finrod (?) (all of them? Read it as you want)

Summary: A dance in full sight of the assembled high society of Tirion and a lot of unanswered questions

“I need you! Now!”

Maitimo tried to shake off his brother’s insistent hand – long fingers closing like vices around his shoulder – as he gave his uncle an apologetic shrug.

“I mean it, come on!”

“Good evening to you too Kanafinwë,” Ñolofinwë greeted, eyebrow cocked in indulgent interrogation, “whatever is so urgent? Is one of my nephews on fire?”

“Not this time!” His half-brother’s son smirked mischievously before brandishing a harp as if it was a sword, and suddenly, he understood what ailed the young artist so.

With a mellow wave of his elegant hand, he dismissed Fëanáro’s eldest son and – as soon as they had left – a much put-upon Maitimo being all but dragged across the room by his insistent younger brother, his own slid up next to him.

“Dear Fëanáro has overindulged those boys,” Arafinwë whispered, but his voice was gentle and devoid of the acid that – at times – simmered in his mouth like poison.

“Do you truly believe ours to be exempt? If Maitimo has been abducted, I will bet my best robe on Findekáno already having stormed out to pre-empt them.” Ñolofinwë chuckled under his breath at the thought; their progeny was hardy and brave, but discretion was yet amongst the skills they would had to hone, in long hours, at court meetings.

“I cannot see my son,” Arafinwë grunted after a second of intent scanning the room and its occupants, “and that is a bad sign when Kanafinwë is in one of his moods.”

“Did I hear my son’s name?” Fëanáro popped out of nowhere like the snake in the grass he was, “What has he done now?”

“He’s abducted everyone,” Arafinwë replied, clenching his jaw when he heard how pathetic that sounded, an impression only reinforced by the sidelong glance his brothers shot at him.

“Ah!” Fëanáro looked startled and that – in and of itself – was a pleasant surprise, and lightly unamused, which, on the contrary, was nothing new.

“Well,” Ñolofinwë sighed, “then the good people of Tirion will have to content themselves with Finwë’s own scandalous sons, robbed of their first-borns by whatever fancy has taken them tonight. Cheer up, brother, and give them one of those smiles they once have all been so enamoured with.”

“That was a long time ago,” the other replied glumly, “and we’ve long been overshadowed by the shockingly disloyal rogues we’ve sired.”

“Brother mine, this better be good,” Maitimo hissed as he threw himself against Makalaurë at the last moment to avoid the swinging doors, leading out onto a secluded terrace, that would otherwise have hit him in the head rather forcefully.

“Dance for me, oh well-shaped one,” Makalaurë grinned provocatively, “I have a new composition and I need to see someone move to it to feel it.”

“And you could not have found a better dancer?”

“No, it had to be you.” The grin softened into something deep and seductive; since their earliest childhood, he had practised and perfected the expression of pleading innocence that now washed over his handsome face like a patina of pure light, putting even the trees’ glory to shame.

“That’s what he told me,” Findekáno laughed good-humouredly as he stepped out from behind a column, throwing a pensive glance at the huge windows that separated them from the rest of the party.

He was not entirely sure that it was appropriate to have their own private gathering – out of earshot but well within view of their parents and relatives – when they were expected to make the rounds and dole out pleasantries and sweet smiles.

“Oh, I am to make a fool of myself with my cousin to amuse the gallery? Are you so eager to usurp my place?” Maitimo stared down his insolent sibling and the wicked gleam in those storm-coloured eyes told him that something devious was afoot indeed.

“I am not going to indulge you if your goal is to embarrass or humiliate him,” their cousin agreed, his voice ringing like a bell of righteous indignation; he was loyal to a fault and fearless in his determination to stand up for what he believed to be right. Would that unselfish bravery make him dance?

Shaking his head, Makalaurë pretended to be mortally wounded by their lack of faith in him, effectively getting them to move closer to one another in devoted resignation.

Those two, he knew, he could always count upon to rise to the occasion, and he was almost sorry that – at least tonight – his plan was not to make them monkey around.

“Take Finno’s hand and get ready,” he instructed his brother – tall and straight as the trees Yavanna had coaxed from seed to blossom – and bit down on his smile as he saw the deepening of colour on his cousin’s cheeks and the dusting of pink creep up Maitimo’s throat.

They were so predictable; they were so precious.

“Good evening, cousin Findekáno,” Maitimo whispered, struggling not to inadvertently crush the other’s hand in his eagerness to feel that warm, smooth palm melt into his own.

“Good evening to you too, most adored of kinsmen!” The reply was barely above a breath infused with meaning, but it fell like hail – battering and bruising – onto their skin and sunk into their veins to whip their blood into a frenzy.

If they had expected a jig or even a bawdy, lewd tavern song, they were sorely disappointed though for the melody conjured up by Makalaurë’s incomparable skill and borne into the still night sky on the wings of his enchanting voice was slow and sweet at first.

Maitimo’s head jerked around, his pupils blown wide with shock and longing.

This was a love song, twisting and wringing the torturous yearning of forbidden affection into something hard and enduring enough to build a ladder from it.

Every note was a rung, every word a step.

Sensual and writhing now, it wound invisible bonds around their limbs to pull them ever closer into an embrace that would have been shocking even without them being in full view of the high and mighty elite of the city.

Suddenly, Maitimo realised how foolish they must have looked, standing there – chest to chest, hand in hand – completely motionless while the heart-breaking melody was drowned out by the raucous brouhaha of the festivities for whoever might happen to look out from inside the ballroom.

“I was promised this dance,” Findekáno reminded him in that melting, warm voice that drove shivers down Maitimo’s spine every time he used it.

Despite their better knowledge and painful awareness of the potential consequences, they started moving, rotating slowly – much too slowly – in the silver light turning them into a painting too full of unspoken emotion to be static.

Makalaurë smiled to himself, his words dripping with honey and venom now, as he watched them forget about the world.

His brother’s hand had dropped indecently low on his cousin’s back and was still slipping until it rested – up to the middle finger – on the curve of Findekáno’s ass and it seemed that the space between them grew ever smaller, but he could not say if it was their whole bodies or only parts of them that strained to espouse the other.

Time stood still and accelerated simultaneously, contracting and expanding with every shivering breath shared between those two he loved so deeply that it tore at his skin from the inside.

From where he sat, he could appreciate the shadows chasing their own tails over Maitimo’s noble face as he inclined his head just a fraction while his half-cousin’s hand disappeared under his flaming hair, no doubt caressing the soft skin nobody ever got to see let alone touch; he seemed frozen mid-movement, a single breath away from pressing that stern, often forbidding mouth to the silken skin – perfumed by the ghost of the flowers Findekáno had been standing under – just outside of his reach.

They had always been like this, too close for comfort or decency, yet eternally a hand apart, and – in the name of familial affection and morbid curiosity – Makalaurë had decided to make them breach that seal of well-meant restraint to drink deep from the well of fulfilment.

If his mouth had not been as dry as the sun-warmed cliffs, Findaráto might have produced a flute or joined his cousin in song, but, as it was, he stayed where he was.

Pressed against the corner of the wall, he watched that siren sing about illicit longing and a yearning so violent it tossed a soul around like a vessel lost at sea; he understood every word, not only because the thick panes muffled the insufferable noise droning from inside the stifling banquet, but also because he had felt like that before. If he had been forced to be honest – and nights like this one were made for the truth – he would have confessed that the exact sensations wrapped in such delicate beauty were sinking their voracious fangs into his tender flesh in this very moment as he gazed upon the powerful, enchantingly beautiful throat of his cousin as it stretched appealingly to give birth to spells unparalleled.

Kanafinwë – loved by his parents and spoiled by Maitimo – was a creature so dangerously deceiving in the charm he put into his every word and action; when it came down to it, his wrath was no less dangerous than any of his brothers’ and he’d stab you while granting you the most gracious and enthralling of smiles.

Findaráto had witnessed many a time how he could command an assembly by the pristine perfection of his voice, and he didn’t doubt the inherent, destructive power, whistling like an arrow in flight, of this musical talent for a single second.

This was different though, he concluded as the expected effect – soothing or adrenalizing – failed to hit his blood; instead of uttering pretty, flawless notes effortlessly, Makalaurë whipped his blood into a frothing tempest now with the breathy, slightly scratchy, and definitely throaty quality of his singing.

Neither a calming lullaby nor an invigorating battle-cry, this new opus of his seemed to be made up of sighs and moans that conjured up images of his delightfully skilled mouth agape in inarticulate extasy.

Disgusted by his own weakness, Findaráto averted his gaze to the dancers to regain some measure of composed self-control while his fingers trembled, thrumming too high on his own thighs against his quivering flesh to even pretend that he was unaffected by the wings this situation had given to his overzealous imagination.

This new focus did nothing to ease his suffering though for there was of course Maitimo himself, who surpassed everyone in beauty, strength, and discipline; he was as hard on the surface as cousin Finno was seemingly soft, but – spying on them now – it was impossible for the wretchedly miserable cousin of theirs to ignore the fire of bravery and love they shared.

He himself was easy, easy to approach, easy to befriend, and easy to leave behind.

Where the others had been given hypnotising intensity, faith-inducing honesty, or captivating charm, he had been granted a pleasant smile and a truly frightening capacity for love.

He admired them so, he had never been given a choice; Maitimo intimidated people into joining him by his calm and convincing confidence, Findekáno’s warm but cutting smile let you know that it was as safe to be on his side as it was lethal not to be, and Makalaurë had yet to meet a person inured to the overwhelming intensity of his charm. Each one of them had been granted gifts that cut through someone like him as a hot blade slid through butter, and he had stopped struggling against his need to belong – to them or anyone else – many a cycle of the trees ago.

The music broke off suddenly and then someone spoke his name.

“Join us, Ingo,” Makalaurë called, laughter weaving golden threads into his tone like the ones adorning righteous, valiant Findekáno’s hair.

“The night is young yet,” he went on when Findaráto balked, cursing his hair for giving him away in the ambient gloom, “and our fathers look distraught; we may have to take this elsewhere.”

“Go and interrupt our sons,” Ñolofinwë griped, “this is indecent.”

He had been watching his oldest child cling to the broad shoulder and shapely hand of his half-brother’s son for what felt like ages, and he was both embarrassed and intrigued by the intensity shimmering so shamelessly in his upturned face.

“You go,” Fëanáro retorted; he had refused to spare the undignified scene so much as a single glance. As they could not hear the music – and knowing that this was Kanafinwë’s doing, there was no doubt about there being a secret melody – they could but look on helplessly as the two potential crown-princes swayed gently, holding each other’s gaze in what looked more like passion than challenge.

“I won’t go either,” Arafinwë interjected, “I don’t care for finding my own son crumpled up around whatever secrets he hides behind a smile.”

Huffing as they realised that they had manoeuvred themselves – once more – into one of the inevitable stalemates of stubborn intransigeance that had made their youth a living hell, the three fathers glared at each other, praying that their sons would realise soon how inappropriate their behaviour really was.

None of them were holding their breath though.

I am - humbly - begging you not to be cruel to me!

It was a try, it was born out of love and good intentions; I did not seek to offend or hurt anyone!

Lots of love from me...

@eunoiaastralwings you're the only person other than Shalini and Medusas-hairband I can think of who'd read this...maybe...🙈

Ah, @mismaeve maybe?

Song that inspired this ludicrous piece of writing:

#silmarillion #silm #fanfiction #russingon #maedhris #fingon #maglor #finrod #romantic?#romantic!#dancing #night scene #longing #pining #Finwë's sons are dumb #a blend of things I've read #and loved #a love letter #Spotify

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