#Rose Tinted Plot; drabbles

[fairysluna]

drabble #4

i'm one of many, bonnie's blue, but when he calls, he calls for me and not for you.

Pairing: Maegor I Targaryen x Fem!Reader.

TW/Tags: smut (p in v, throne sex, choking, dacryphilia, dirty talk), cheating, mentions of blood, basically no plot just filth.

MASTERLIST

The guard let his sword drop onto the floor causing a thunderous sound that echoed in the room. His jaw clenched, his body stiffened up, and his cheeks were tinted with a slight rose color… All while King Maegor had his big hands on your arse, guiding your movements as your greedy cunt milked his cock.

Your soft and low whimpers were barely heard, for your face was buried on his wide chest. Tears of pleasure fell down your face and onto his armor as you clenched your eyes, ignoring the sound that alerted the king as you were too busy trying to reach your glorious release.

Knees bleeding with small cuts, your dress shattered into pieces laying beneath Maegor's shoes, your arsecheeks spreaded by his hands leaving your cunt bare and exposed to whomever might enter the Throne Room. Your hands on his shoulders barely gave you strength as your legs grew tired of the constant movement that was failing to give you what you so desperately craved.

The guard left as soon as he noticed Maegor's deadly stare on him; he did not say anything, he just turned around and closed the door behind him, leaving you undisturbed.

You barely noticed all of that, but you heard Maegor's choked laugh, which went straight to your pussy making you clench around him.

"Are you tired already?" he asked mockingly, his hands lazily brushing against your burning skin, making you long for more, "You're not stopping until you're dripping with my cum."

"Please," you begged, tears flooding your eyes as you pulled back to see his smug grin, "I need to… I need to cum-"

He cut your words as his hand reached for your throat, grabbing tightly as you mewled, your body writhing on top of him, making him push deeper inside of you. You locked your eyes with his, dark purple staring back at you with traces of lust in them. Soul piercing gems that made you drench around his cock.

"P-please…" you repeated, your voice barely audible as your wet face turned red out of shame for sounding so needy and desperate.

He pulled you close, your hips stopped their movements standing still with him stuffed inside you. You were able to feel him twitch inside your tight walls as his nose brushed against your soaked cheeks, sniffing your sweaty skin and sensing your arousal. Your bottom lip quivering as your breathing came out as shaky. Glossy eyes begging him to help you.

Maegor chuckled, and once you least expected it his heavy hand slapped the soft skin of your arse, leaving a reddish mark on it. You gulped, your body moved and the skin on your knees suffered from another cut that made you bleed.

"You're always so desperate for my cock," he whispered, squeezing your throat tighter.

Your lips parted and Maegor took this opportunity to kiss you rough, slipping his tongue inside your mouth, swirling around yours as he devoured you so fervently. Your breath was taken away by his touch, so careless and ruthless, but so good and arousing.

The King hummed as your hips started to move again. His hand left your throat and went to your ass, starting to control your movements and giving the help you very much needed. Your arms wrapped his shoulders as you buried your face on the crock of his neck; his sweet cologne only increased the arousal between your shaky legs.

The sound of your slick coating the King's cock made you shiver. His heavy breath smacking against your ear as his unholy mouth started to utter filthy words that made you drool.

"Look at you, my little whore," he lifted his hips as he lowered yours, his fat head brushing against your deepest spot making you roll your eyes with pleasure. "Your pretty cunt is milking my cock so good…"

"Gods…" you mewled, clinging onto his shoulder as your legs shook.

Maegor scoffed, holding a grunt as your pussy squeezed him deliciously.

"No, darling, it's me… The Gods aren't the ones fucking you so nicely, I am." His fingertips digging into your skin as he fastened his pace, lifting his hips and smacking them against yours, "say my name, beg me for it."

"Maegor…" you whined, breathless as you bounced on him, "My King… please, I- I need to cum."

"Of course you do… but first you need to make me fill you up," he reminded you, his voice so low that almost sounded like a growl, "so go on, keep squeezing me with this tight little pussy and I'll give you what you wish for."

His words buzzed into your ears and made your mind go fuzzy. It seemed as if they were enough to make you regain a little strength, for you started to ignore the soreness on your thigh muscles and started to jump.

Soon the sound of your arse smacking against his clothed thighs was heard around the empty room, your moans became louder as Maegor's grunts were silenced against your shoulder, which he carelessly bit. The slight pain made you see stars as your breath became hard.

"Cum! Please, please, cum!" You beg him, whiny chants as you desperately moved on top of him, "Fill me up, my King… please, please!"

His cock twitched inside you whilst your pleads were echoing, he hummed in delight, feeling your heavy breathing against his neck.

"Fuck- That's it, little whore… keep squeezing my cock like that," he mumbled, already feeling the weight on his pelvis, making his thrust more sloppy and slower.

But you were eager, and you kept bouncing, sweating and panting as the waves of pleasure were too much. You were right there, about to explode on his cock, but you had to hold back and wait for him. That would only make you more desperate.

"Maegor, please!" you whined, "please, cum!"

A hiss escaped from his lips as he buried his face on your neck, biting the skin he found there as his cum suddenly filled you up. Strings of his seed brimming your drenching cunt as you could not hold it any longer and you let yourself go into the overwhelming pleasure.

Your release exploding from you and making a mess as a loud gasp left you and your body dropped on top of him. His thick arms holding you close as your hips twitched and his cock was still pulsing inside of you. His pants were now soaked and a smug grin appeared on his handsome face.

"Mhm… seems like you have a mess to clean," he purred, breathless as he reached for your lips and kissed you, taking away the air that you so hard tried to regain.

Your trembling limbs were starting to feel numb, as you lazily followed the kiss, exhausted but satisfied. His hands now caressing your skin with subtle touches that burn your skin and fill your heart with desire… and devotion.

"Thank you," you breathed out, between kisses and soft gasps.

Maegor hummed, "Now, be a good slut and clean the mess you made."

A soft mumble left your mouth as he lift you up. As soon as he pulled out, his cum fell down your drenching cunt; Maegor moaned with the obscene view.

Carefully, you stood up only to get on your knees between his legs and look up at him. The crown in his head was threatening to fall down but neither of you seem to care. You were too busy staring at each other to even notice it.

His cock twitched when he saw your face covered in tears, and before your hand could reach for his length, he leaned forward and grabbed your hair in a tight fist, pulling you a bit closer to him.

"Tonight, when I enter my chamber, I want to see you laying on my bed, with your legs open and your cunt wet," he demanded, as you squeeze your legs feeling the warmth starting to form once again, "... ready for me to fuck you."

You only managed to nodded eagerly, your eyes shining with illusion and excitement. Maegor clicked his tongue, and a big and wicked smile was drawn upon his visage. You smile right back at him, knowing that he had chosen you over his wives… again.

After all, you have always been the King's favorite maid.

@borikenlove this is for us; the white men's whores 💕

[johnslittlespoon]

Hello, gorgeous!

First of all, thank you for the joy of reading the first chapter of Tough And Sweet (Like You And Me).

I just have one question: Will future chapters show us Gale’s POV as well? Personally, I’d love to see young, shy Bucky through the eyes of an older Gale.

HIII sweetest human!! <3 no thank YOU for reading omg and for the kind words plsss :')) and for giving me an excuse to talk ab this LOL. tldr: future chapters no, future parts/drabbles yes!!

i was actually so indecisive about this when i started plotting the fic because while i enjoy reading fics with alternating povs just as much as fics without them, i've never written one with them and i wasn't sure if i'd enjoy/be good at switching mindsets like that!

i ultimately decided to stick to john's pov for that reason, but also because i thought as the reader, having to see things through his eyes and only being able to guess about gale the way john does would be more intriguing, especially with john's view of the world/interactions warped and/or rose–tinted by youth, inexperience, emotional dysregulation, etc.

BUT sooo much of what i have written in my drafting doc is from gale's pov because i love picturing this bucky through his eyes too, it's just such a fresh and new dynamic for me to explore as someone who primarily writes mota–verse buckbucky, and what we see from john's pov is so different from how gale sees things of course lol.

like it drives me insane thinking about how this poor man was literally just living his peaceful life, fine with being solo, going through the routine every day of work and then bike club and then home, and suddenly he's got this golden retriever of a boy attached to him like a magnet, and he's being kept on his toes dealing with the bundle of energy, and each day is now unpredictable and as exciting as it is stressful and he has no one to blame but himself lol. and the way we don't get to see the self–restraint he has to have and the struggle to be responsible and do what's 'right' while also dealing with his own feelings, because john isn't aware that's going on inside gale's head!

i could go on and on about his side of things aughghgh so i think eventually i'll end up doing a pretty lengthy oneshot sorta thing of certain events in the actual fic through gale's eyes (kinda what i plan on doing with yadiym for john's pov) bc goddd i have so many thoughts about how all of this would be playing out from his perspective!!! if not a oneshot, then drabbles like this one i hope.

if i had the time and if it wouldn't be boring to read i would honestly just rewrite the whole fic from gale's pov once it's done because with every scene i write, i'm like ooo i wanna dive into his pov and talk about what he's thinking and seeing so BAD but i can't bc we're in john's head </3 i just love analyzing john through his eyes and ik i've yapped ab this so much in past posts but gale does see so much of his younger self in him, that's why he has a lot of patience and takes a liking to him so fast, even if he doesn't realize that right away. :')

at the very least i definitely want to write pwp oneshots/drabbles set in the TAS universe from gale's pov so i can gush over describing how pretty and sweet and mouthy john is LOL i'm sure i'll add the fic itself to a series like with my dog–coded fic so that i can build on the au with oneshots once it's done >:-)

this is such a longwinded response (what else is new!) but you poked the bubble in my brain that's been agonizing over wanting to delve into gale's pov so <3 this is much more rambling than your question warranted but thx JSDKG

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

this post: masterlist for the event, including dates, prompts, and characters, to be updated with links upon posting. expectations: multifandom but l&ds-centric. most works will be short drabbles with little to no plot. tag: please block the "roxie; rtkkinktober24" tag if you want to filter out works from here!

status: finishing up the backlog for november! (0/8)

all works here are smut, nsfw, only for 18+. if you are a minor, do not interact. i block minors and blogs without any age indicator.

somnophilia. 4.9k words — luke & kieran (love & deepspace)

temperature play. 1.9k words — joshua rosfield (final fantasy 16)

cardiophilia. 1.3k words — zayne (love & deepspace)

guided masturbation. 1.5k words — kim seungmin (stray kids)

faxe sitting. 1.3k words — greyson (love & deepspace)

cockwarming. 1k words — shirabu kenjirou (haikyuu)

cum eating. 842 words — seishiro nagi (blue lock)

nipple play. 5.4k words — caleb (love & deepspace) ◆

praise. 3.7k words — lumiere!xavier (love & deepspace)

master/servant. 9.7k words — prince!xavier (love & deepspace)

voice kink. 1.6k words — lee minho (stray kids)

deepthroating. 1.2k words — rafayel (love & deepspace) ◆

scent kink. ?? words — sylus (love & deepspace) ◆

body worship. ?? words — rafayel (love & deepspace) ◆

suspension. ?? words — caleb (love & deepspace) ◆

thigh riding. ?? words — sugawara koushi (haikyuu) ◆

cum play. 1.8k words — xavier (love & deepspace) ◆

cuddle fucking. 1.5k words — luke (love & deepspace)

dry humping. 1.5k words — kieran (love & deepspace) ◆

breeding kink. 1.8k words — dawnbreaker (love & deepspace)

⁺₊ / an: some prompts may be delayed/removed. requests are marked with ◆ !!

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[roseateultra-blog]

Having trained one himself, it was to be expected. It was a phase that seemed unavoidable for Rockruffs. As charming as they were, it was a trial in itself to get the Pokemon past this stage. However, the payoff was more reward than the risk of something going horribly wrong. Lily certainly seemed to think the same, as she was determined to see Sabine, her own Rockruff, through it. Davaste admired her for it, knowing she was capable.

That would be tested during what should’ve been a very normal training session.

Knowing he had a baby Pokemon or two around who would be interested in a scrap, he packed a few with him to battle Lily’s blossoming party who, by now, had made it to Akala Island in her island challenge travels. The two siblings had agreed on meeting near the Ruins of Life, where a battle arena lay that would be fine for a quick training battle.

It was after the last of Davaste’s own party had been fainted, that the signs became apparent to Davaste himself before it reached Lily. Sabine had fought viciously, something that Davaste noticed, but, his sister so enraptured with her victory, hadn’t picked up on. She sprinted in to congratulate one of the stars of her party, yelling praise toward the canine Pokemon.

“Sabine, that was righteous! I’m so pr--” Lily had reached the point of scooping up Sabine, the Rockruff caught off-guard, and still riled. Her hackles raised, teeth bared with a spurt of flame. Davaste moved far faster in that moment than he had moved in a very long time.

“Lily--!”

Davaste had thrust his arm between the wily Rockruff, and his own sister, causing the Rockruff’s teeth to sink into the flesh of his non-tattooed arm. A wince, and a grimace from Davaste indicated his pain as the dog Pokemon’s fiery fangs flushed over his unfortunate skin, causing the areas around the bite marks to blister painfully. Sabine seemed to realize what had happened a second too late. She retracted from the boy’s space with a whimper, but the damage had been done. Her tail lowered to plaster itself between her hind legs as a regretful look crossed her face.

Lily had both hands clapped over her mouth in horror as Davaste lifted his arm to inspect the damage. It hurt, but he was unphased beyond the initial sting that was occurring. Especially since burns were what he was intimately familiar with. Still. The blood running from the puncture marks was gruesome-looking as it formed scarlet rivulets down his skin. He blamed neither trainer nor Pokemon for this happening, he was merely glad both were okay if not a tad shaken now.

“Fuck, ah, that hurt far more than I was hoping it would,” Davaste seethed between gritted teeth.

“Dav! Why did you do that!” Lily demanded, staring at her brother. She remembered herself, and went to pick up Sabine. The dog didn’t struggle. In fact, she whined pitifully in apology. Lily gave her a reassuring pat, then stared sternly at her brother. A scowl had formed on her face.

“You... ugh! I could’ve taken that... I was the one that made the mistake.”

“... Maybe so, but I wasn’t about to risk it.”

“Dav...” The younger of the siblings sucked in a deep breath, much like she’d seen her brother do when he needed to collect his thoughts. Her eyes closed momentarily, until she felt ready to return her gaze to her sibling. She squeezed Sabine a little tighter in her arms.

“I know my limits. I know I’m... I know I’m how I am,” Her eyes were fixed on the wound. “but, you can’t keep protecting me all the time--”

--you can’t protect me forever.”

There’s palpable silence after she says that. By that point, Davaste had taken off his shirt to begin wrapping it around his injury until he could treat it properly.

“... I know. However, I felt you didn’t need a scar like that.” Davaste avoided looking at Lily, his eyes never moving from his arms and hands as he worked with getting the bleeding stopped. As if to make his point, he held up his opposite arm that carried both the burn from his own dearest partner Pokemon, and the image of that Pokemon inked over it.

“Yeah but, isn’t that just part of growing up? Part of growing as a trainer?” Lily’s brows furrowed. She was peering hard at Sabine, whose ears had flattened so much they might as well have been permanently glued to her head at that point. Davaste didn’t answer her. His eyes flirted with the ground instead, head turned away from his sister.

“I can take my own hits, Dav. I love you, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but don’t you think it’s time to stop hurting yourself for my sake?”

The words struck Davaste the moment they left Lily’s mouth. He looked pained for a moment, as an ache hit him in the chest. The realization of her words was sudden, it was as if the ground began to crumble out from under his feet. All the shields he’d built over years for the sake of walling in his emotions, they fell away for one fleeting second. It was far too much all at once to be dealing with in such an immediate way. He let out a small noncommittal grunt, really it was the only thing he could muster. He needed to keep control. Control. Like he always was. In control. After another beat, he finally managed a reply.

“... You should put Sabine back in her Pokeball so she can calm down properly, now that the danger’s passed.”

“I mean it, Davaste.” The fact she’d used his full name had made it that much worse. At that point, his mind was becoming too frayed to stand being there, being admonished by his sister in an emotionally poignant way. A few rocks that had been strewn about nearby rumbled ominously as his powers began to leak out of him.

“I know,” his voice was barely above a whisper. Lily seemed to take that as a cue to do what he had instructed. She whispered a few sweet nothings to Sabine, who gives the girl a placid lick on the nose for her trouble. With that, she let Sabine retreat back into her ball, before Lily clicked it back into place on her belt. The movement of the stones caught her eye, but she had felt the tumult long before she witnessed it.

Davaste concentrated on the pain of his arm to keep himself grounded. However, he was frozen in place. He could feel the drift, but he couldn’t do it, not here. It was extremely hard not to just leave mentally, especially after Lily’s words sparked something very deep, and personal within him he wasn’t equipped to confront yet, especially not in such an open place with his sister being so close and vulnerable. This time, it was her that broke the silence that had grown.

“Dav, c’mon. We should go to a Pokemon Center so you can get that treated. It looked like it really, really hurt.” Lily wasn’t naive, not as naive as Davaste might believe she was at times. She could sense her brother’s inner turmoil, and did her best to put off a wave of reassurance to keep him with her, to maintain him. She’d known him far too long not to notice that behavior of his. She also wasn’t blind to the way the surrounding air had changed. She held her hand out.

There’s a hesitation from Davaste. It worried Lily at first, but his golden eyes moved to look at her directly, signalling he was still there. He would give her the slender pinkie finger from his uninjured arm which she wrapped her hand around, warmly, firmly. The stones stopped their menacing shaking beneath the duo’s feet. Davaste let his eyes shut in a long blink, then replied.

“... Right.”

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Oracle - Intro : Sibyl

June Drabbles 2022 Days 26 & 27 - Universe & Neon Sign 

A/N: So we all know by now that I completely missed the mark on finishing all of these in the month of June. One of these days I will complete a challenge on time. Maybe. But I have had a lot of fun writing these drabbles/stories, and with only a few more to go I’m powering through the rest of them. This one is actually a bit different from the rest, because it is for something that I have been plotting and planning (and stressing about getting right) for roughly a year, but when I saw these two prompts I took it as a sign (and you’ll see why that’s appropriate) to finally get the ball rolling on this soulmate au series. I’ve never written the soulmate trope before, and I am nervous to try... but I’m also excited and I hope that you enjoy where it’s going... and that you don’t hate me too much. ;) 

Word Count: 2,800

Warning: death, violence, language, theft 

Summary: Years of job hopping and point pinching have finally put Ezra in a position to take a step up - literally out of the gutter-gunked scud puddles of Cirian Central, but also out of the slow sinking pit of debt and dying dreams that he’d been languishing in for too long. But just as his luck takes a turn for the better, something else lands hard and haphazardly in his lap - fate. And not just his own. So will he follow the fortune... or the fortune teller? 

A deluge of grimey water splashed against the dingy window that Ezra leaned against, looking out as the storm drains from mid were emptied onto the rooftops, sidewalks and unsuspecting heads of those on the lowest level. He grimaced as a nearby man got drenched by two levels worth of rainwater, debris, fuel oil and Kevva knows what else. I know what else. This entire planet is a pus-stained scab on the Cirian sector. The unfortunate, muck covered man was either uncaring of or unfamiliar with the drainage system in that portion of the city, but Ezra had plenty of practice when it came to dodging the showers of street slick that rained on the ground level every quarter cycle. Central was his home planet, after all. 

Or at least it was where he hailed from. He hadn’t called it home since the first time that he left it - as a sixteen year old stowaway on a trash transport headed for the Bahkroma System, forged documents aging him by three years stuffed into his pocket. But if he was being honest with himself, it hadn’t been home since well before then. He had no nostalgic notions, no rose-tinted memories made there to feel fondly for the place. Docking on Central between jobs was never something that Ezra looked forward to, and he always sought to leave again as quickly as he could. For a while he did everything in his power to find work that would keep him off-world for several standard years at a time, taking odd jobs on benches and freighters and places where he could negotiate lodging into his pay. His plan had been to save his points for all the equipment that he would need to start the career of his dreams - digging for aurelac, toxic environment and all. He got hired to his first crew a few days after his twentieth birthday, and in two decades he hadn’t looked back.

Though there were several other mining trades he could have gotten into that wouldn’t have required the life support suit and filtration hose, none of them paid nearly close to what he knew prospectors on the Green Moon made when they sold their gems. He understood the math of it. The deadlier the job, the higher the payout, and there weren’t many professions more potentially hazardous than the one he wanted to make his own. News of the rush had only amplified his drive, Ezra’s eyes growing wide as he read about pearls rumored to be the size of fully grown channel-rats. The location of the theorized rhizomatic deposit that the prospecting guild had dubbed The Queen’s Lair was unknown, but Ezra chose to believe that if it was real, he would find it. 

I’d finally be free of the debts I’ve carried all these years. They weren’t insurmountable - he was still paying off loans that he’d taken to upgrade some of his equipment - but the fact that he was tethered by such a seemingly in reach number of points made them feel steeper than they were on the record. It was why he had started sneaking small, lower grade gems into the hidden pouches that he’d sewn into his suit, smuggling them back to Cirian to sell to the fence he met at the pub he frequented when he was forced to stay there between stands on the Green. It upped the risk even more, but the math continued to check out, Ezra’s earnings going up as well. Not exactly what I envisioned, but… If I find the Queen’s Lair it won’t matter. He watched the last drops of filthy water slide down the glass and sighed. And I’d finally be able to afford more luxurious accommodations than the inns down here in this scud-crusted sludge puddle. If he had his druthers though, he wouldn’t stay on the mid or top tiers, either. If given the choice of anywhere to spend his free time, he’d pick Kamrea or Cardovan or Lao. Anywhere but Central, really. 

At least it’s only a couple of days this time. Just a handful of cycles. He grinned to himself as he pushed the door open and stepped out of the bar, a few mugs of mash mead sloshing around in his belly and his brain to give him a pleasant buzz. He hadn’t met with Geyser this time, and Ezra briefly wondered if his blackmarket connection hadn’t gotten himself caught. But when no one came to slap cuffs on him as he took a seat in one of the open stools and ordered a drink, he determined that Geyser likely got drunk in some other sinkhole and forgot that they were meant to meet, or else he’d struck a deal with another thief for higher quality pearls or fewer points. It didn’t matter much to him, not with the offer he’d just accepted to join a crew that was setting out to find the Lair - and not returning until they had unearthed it. This could very well be the last time I ever find myself here. 

With that thought, and a handful of pebble pearls he would have sold to Geyser still burning holes in his pocket, he strode down the dark alley and out towards the glow of artificial lights. He had no idea what time it was, but down on the third level it didn’t matter if it was night or day. It didn’t matter that Cirian Central had two suns or that its moon was the brightest and largest in the sector. The substructure of the cities that covered the planet’s surface blocked out the sky at ground level. Even if it didn’t, there was an ever present haze from steam valves and factory vents that hung in the air that acted like an opaque filter, muting everything to a dim shade of gray. The only light that far down came from the various signs that flashed in vibrant colors boasting bars, brothels, brokers and anything else transients and vagabonds like him might need. The constant buzz of the flickering neons created a white noise that was only broken by the wet slopping sounds of the drain pipes from above, footsteps of people that came too close, or the hacking coughs of Fringelings like him, leaning in doorways and against dripping brick walls as they smoked their fire hash blunts down to their fingers. 

It had been a few years since he’d smoked one, and for a snippet of a second he thought about trying to barter with one of the men for a little bit of leaf, rolling the smooth but cloudy gem grains in his pocket between his fingers. He knew someone would take that trade, even if they had no idea what the street price of aurelac or fire hash was. But if he wanted to feel the effects all he’d have to do was stroll down Stinger’s Alley and suck in the smoke. And that’s not what I want to do right now anyway. He needed to find accommodations for the next two nights, and once that was taken care of he would be back in one of the bars, celebrating the change in his fate that was just on the horizon with another mug or three of mash mead. The purple lettering of the Astral Hotel’s sign hummed in the distance, the S and both Ls smashed so that when lit it actually read A tra Hote, and since Ezra had stayed there a few times before and knew exactly what to expect - the damaged neon tubes advertising the place were quite an accurate representation of what it was like on the inside, too - he headed off in that direction, the grainy gems still rattling between his fingers.

But before he could cross the street, a woman emerged from a curtained doorway and stepped directly and intentionally in front of him. Her wide brown eyes were shining and shaking as they locked onto his, and though it would have been easy to brush the look off by assuming that she had inhaled too many vapors from the fire hash and steam valves, Ezra got the immediate feeling that she was stone sober. Her shoulder length hair had likely once been golden blonde, but now, like everything on this level of the city it had started going silvery gray, and she kept it tied back with a red head scarf, that and the beaded bracelets clacking together on her bony wrists as she reached for him the only splash of brightness that didn’t come from the buzzing lights. What in- 

“You don’t know how to find her, do you?” Her hands clasped around his arms, the woman stronger than she appeared, and Ezra was so stunned by the sudden contact that he simply froze. What? Who?

Blinking, he shook his head and wrinkled his brow, and then gently lifted his arms to try to shrug her off without touching her. “I think you might have the wrong person, ma’am. I’m not sure who you’re referring to, but-” 

She only doubled down, fingers gripping the worn fabric of his waffle-knit pullover. “The woman you’ve seen. In the flashes.” 

She scanned his face for a reaction and he knew that he gave her one, his mouth dropping open as he sucked in a breath. How does she know about… I’ve never- He blinked again, and a pair of eyes that were far more familiar to him than any he’d ever looked actually into came to the forefront of his mind. Her. The woman whose laughter he felt in his heart when he was happy, whose anguish he tasted when tears stung his own eyes. The woman he’d never met and always assumed had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination. The ghost in his dreams. But they aren’t just dreams… Sometimes I see her while I’m awake, too. 

“The woman who always dies in your arms.” 

That drove the buzz right out of his blood and left a chill in its place. 

The woman who always died in his arms - who he was never able to save. She’d drowned and he’d been too late to pull her from the water. She’d been shot and he hadn’t acted quickly enough to patch her up. She’d been poisoned, stabbed, struck by a vehicle, attacked by an animal. No matter how many flashes Ezra got of her smiling, safe, sleeping or even sighing into his ear, they were outnumbered by the ones that ended with her death. 

“How in Kevva’s name do you know about that? About her?” Because I’ve never told a soul. Not a single scud-sucking soul. 

“I know a lot about you, Ezra. We’ve been here before.” 

His heartbeat quickened and his tongue suddenly went dry and thick in his mouth, the air in his lungs going stale. “If this has anything to do with Geyser, I-” 

She waved one ring encrusted hand to cut him off. “I don’t concern myself with black market activity. What you choose to do with the pebbles in your pockets is unimportant.” He bristled, even as the woman took her other hand away from his arm. “What I need to tell you is far more pressing than five and a half points in cloudy aurelac.” 

Is this a setup? Ezra glanced up and over her shoulders, eyes darting left and right to make sure that no one was watching or lurking on a nearby stoop. Shoving his right hand in his pocket, he felt the creamy texture of the unpolished pearls against the pads of his fingers. There were exactly five and a half points worth. How is- 

He was hit then with another flash.

Inky black darkness that swallowed the tree line. A crackling flame that spit and snapped with wet wood, sparks swirling upwards with the smoke. A stripped down, hopper-style landing pod that didn’t look operational. And a woman imprisoned in a glass booth that was lit by harsh white neons. Her body was covered in some kind of pink powdered substance, and a golden mask obscured most of her face. But her eyes opened, and Ezra knew them. Another flash and there she was, draped in the crook of his left arm, face tipped up towards his and gasping for air. 

But this time his ghost didn’t die. 

This time he yanked the emergency hose attached to his gear and sealed it over her mouth and nose. This time he wasn’t too late or too slow. This time he had what he needed to save her. To save you. 

When he blinked again you were gone and he was back in his body on the streets of Cirian Central, breathing hard as the clairvoyant woman clutched at one of his arms with both of her thin hands. “Come inside unless you want to get slime soaked,” she urged when he finally looked down at her. What? “The drains, Ezra.” She pointed upwards. “They’re due to-” Shit. 

He nodded, letting her pull him through the curtain and into her shop just as the drain valve twisted to slop greasy gray water down on the place where he’d just been standing. But that wasn’t what mattered. And at this point, the moon rocks in his pocket didn’t matter either. She… she’s alive. She- “She didn’t die.” 

The woman sighed as she closed the door that he hadn’t seen, locking it behind herself and drawing the curtain shut. “Yes, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Turning to look at him over her shoulder, she flicked the light switch to turn off the buzzing sign in her window. Ezra watched, shaken and dumbstruck as the tubes forming a hand and the words psychic readings fizzled out and went dark. “You saw her.” She slowly spun to face him fully. “But you don’t know how to find her, do you?” 

Find her? He swallowed, brow furrowing and heart thudding hard. “You mean to tell me that she’s… that she is more than just a vision? That she is-” 

“She is as real as you and I are.” Outside, another slosh of filthy liquid rained from the mid level as his host pulled a chair from the corner of the room closer to its twin near the window, gesturing for him to sit. He did, and she sunk into the one she’d just moved, leveling him with her stare. “But unless you do exactly as I say, the fate that you just witnessed will change and you will lose her again.” She leaned closer, the look in her eyes even more desperate. “Possibly forever.” 

It didn’t make a lick of sense. Lose you? Again? He had never had you. He didn’t even know who you were. 

That isn’t entirely true. I know her eyes. I…Something churned in his chest and then it felt as though he’d split open if he couldn't get his arms around you. I do know her. She… she’s my- 

“Tell me one thing, soothsayer.” Something still wasn’t adding up though. He shook his head as he tried to even out his racing thoughts and slow down his breathing. “Why pray tell, does it matter to you if a point pinching aurelac swindler like me finds his soulmate?”

“First of all my name is Faye.” She answered without flinching. “And it matters to me because I believe that if you don’t follow the path that leads you to her… I will never see my daughter again. They are both alive, Ezra. My daughter and the woman who has been haunting your memory.” 

“My memory?” He balked. “You mean the visions? The dreams?” 

“Do they feel like dreams to you? Do you often dream without sleeping?” She reached forward, covering one of his hands on his knee with her own. “The things that you’ve seen? They are not dreams. You lived those moments, Ezra. All of those possibilities. In a hundred different worlds, in a hundred different universes. And all of them have ended the same way. But I see a path that ends in a different place - a place that leads to my little girl and to the piece of your heart that you’ve been living without - and now that you’ve seen it, too…” She squeezed his hand. “How can you look away?”  

The answer was simple but he kept it to himself. He couldn’t. I won’t. But he was going to need some more clarity. “Tell me what you’ve seen, and what will be required of me before I embark on this path of yours, Faye.” 

Tell me how to find her… Tell me how to find her in time and I’ll go down any path you point me towards. 

.

.

.

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[gummywurme]

In the Dusk of Twilight

Chapter summary: An old friend visits you and tells you of an upcoming threatening celestial event that comes sooner than you'd expect

Word count: 4.7K+

Rating: Explicit, 18+, sexual violence, violence, language

TW/CW (in order): one (1) funeral, minor character death, flashback bonanza, rape on screen, derogatory language, mild victim-blaming, possession, description of violence, humor used as a coping mechanism, inaccurate usage of Egyptian mythology, fluff. canon divergent, no marc/steven/jake. *viewer discretion is advised*

A/N: oh yeah we got plot now babie. from porn drabble to full-on majora's mask plotline

Read it on Ao3 | Materlist | Part 1 | Part 2

The dusty, stained mirror stares back at you. Harsh blinding fluorescent lights hum above. Empty eyes reflect in the glass, making you wonder if those actually belong to you. Your hands trace the outline of your face, fingertips gliding across your cheek, over the bridge of your nose, and the bow of your lips. Despite everything, it’s still you. 

But for some reason, you feel… detached. As if your soul was ripped out of you and poorly put back together. A ghost in a shell. A dull ache spreads throughout your hands. Although there are no signs of bruises, no marks, no discoloration. A phantom pain haunts you. 

Your heart is heavy, it burdens a sin deep within. You have no clue as to why you bear such guilt. 

You leave the restroom. The day is beautiful, the sun shines so brightly and passing clouds greet it. It doesn’t match up with the event you’re in. It’s his funeral today. You’d expect the sky would reflect that with gray moody clouds and heavy rain.

Heels clack against the marble floor, echoing in the church, as you make your way back to the alter upstairs. The room is isolated, not a single soul could be found, not a prayer to be heard, not even a whisper of a confession. Fading sunlight illuminates the room, religious icons glisten under it. The Virgin Mary statue, holding a permanent welcoming embrace of a position, is reflecting the light casting soft hues of baby blue and shimmering pearl across the walls.

The alter is quiet, there were only three people, including yourself, present for the visitation. His casket is closed due to his parents’ request. You didn’t want to remember the details you heard through a mutual friend, because all you could think of is him being in pain and agony. You want to remember him for what he what once, a kind and loving friend. 

Even after what he has done to you? He’s better off dead.

Your brain blocked that memory, making it blurry in order to protect you from its trauma, and yet Khonshu’s comment is enough to make it clear again.

—

It was nearly a year after that confession at the rooftop, not that you were counting in the first place. But love makes you do things and rose-tinted glasses happen to look good on you. But that hasn’t made you forget the whole ordeal with your friend, that’s why you avoid him as much as you can.

Luckily for you, graduation passed by quicker than you expected. Then you never saw his face again. Even more, you’ve moved out, willing to leave that old part of you behind. You find comfort in your new home alongside your partner, Khonshu. Neither of you really stated what your relationship was, you knew that it wasn’t a “normal” or “traditional” kind of relationship. Not you didn’t mind anyway, it’s cute, being his little secret in a world where no one can see him but you. 

Enjoying the relationship and the feeling of liberation in a brand new chapter of your life left you lowering your guard.

But you should’ve been more careful.

It was a tradition by now how you’d get up on Sunday mornings to go to the farmer’s market, seeing the new pop up stalls that contained a lot of delicious snacks, the sounds of performers openly playing for everyone to hear, and the fresh fruits the locals sell that brightens up every corner, its fruity aroma blissful when up close. 

You loved walking around and enjoying the utter joy this place gives off, sipping a cold drink under the warm sun. You see Khonshu perched on a nearby fountain, his attention taken by some woman with her tarot cards, enchanting the person sitting at her table. He scoffs and makes a comment about it but you don’t hear it too far off wandering, lost in your head as you take in the warm embrace of the sun.

There was a secret, as you would like to tell Khonshu, alleyway that lead up to a fire escape, which brings you to the rooftop of the small building overlooking the farmer’s market. You’ve spent precious moments with Khonshu here before. Like the fireworks festival that took place a week ago, you two sat side-by-side, your head resting on his shoulders. You smile at the memory.

Walking further down to head to the “secret” alleyway, the fewer people are there, you fail to notice that someone was trailing you from behind. Too caught up looking at your phone. You make the usual turn and suddenly a hand covers your mouth, the other wrapped around your front, and forcefully walks you farther down the narrow pathway. 

You thrash your shoulders trying to break free from the assailant’s grip but he retorts by kicking the back of your knee causing you to land on your face. A concussion hinders your next moves, the man crosses over your prone form, nudges you with his boot to flip you on your back, and crouches on top of you, fingers tracing the hem of your sundress. “You’re a real fucking bitch, you know that?” the familiar voice sneering at you.

His hand slides up further your body and the tears are starting to flow at the situation, “You really think you could just fucking leave me like that? Huh? You think you’re better than me? Coming into my life like that and then just leave me hanging?” Your hands grip his wrist, a feeble attempt to stop him from pulling your top down.

“Well too bad you slut, it’s how I’ve always seen you. A stupid fucking whore, you were so easy that night. And still are, wasn’t that hard finding you again.” He unbuckles his belt and in his moment of vulnerability, you kick him in the chest. Hard. He stumbles back with a groan, and you turn to your stomach, crawling away as you try to get up. Only for him to grab you by the ankle, dragging you against concrete, flipping your skirt over and tearing the thin cotton, your heart leaps out of your chest when you can feel the heat of his head against your entrance. 

The sudden darkness is what you register amidst your scream, the bright morning day had just sunken into a dark abyss. There is a chasmic rumble beneath your bodies, a vicious wind picks up in the alley, and various debris whirls wildly in the wind, hitting your assailant. He stops and quickly gets off you, afraid of the supernatural event he finds himself in, and bolts out of there. 

You lay there, eyes shut in tears and sobs in that passageway, as your ceremonial suit takes over without your call. Then you feel someone cradle you gently into their arms, and they stand up to their full height, it feels as if you’re floating. You don’t have the strength to look up to know who is holding you so tenderly. Because your heart already answered for you. You feel the wind swirl around the both of you, grains of sand wisp along with the gust as you leave the place behind without a trace.

—

“You have been called before the Ennead for your foolish behavior once more Khonshu, tampering with the natural order of the sun and moon. What do you have to say about yourself?” Osiris speaks through his Avatar, looking down from his seat with the others.

I was protecting my Avatar, something you wouldn’t understand because you treat them lesser than yourselves, replacing them as quickly as they die in your duties whereas I prevent it! Khonshu’s booming voice made you recoil in your place beside him.

“How many times must we tell you? We do not treat our Avatars so carelessly, it is a part of their devotion, whether it leads them to their doom or not. It is never in our conscious to let them live the life of a martyr.” The Avatar tells Khonshu, his sorrowful tone wrings your heart. 

“But tell me, what is it that you find in your Avatar worth sacrificing your place on the Earth and possibly invoking wrath from your fellow gods?” The other Avatars look at each other with a puzzled look at the question then all focus on you, trying to see Osiris’ point.

“Could it be? You feel a swell of affection for her, haven’t you? Why else the grand gesture? Gifting her a staff which nearly replicates yours, the fairer treatment than your previous Avatars, and now the turning of day to night to save her.” Hathor speaks up, you avoid everyone’s burning gaze on you, locking your eyes on the sands below.

“Well I, for one, sympathize with Khonshu’s Avatar, what happened to her is unjustified and his actions were well-intentioned. Khonshu had done all he could outside the ability of his Avatar.” Isis’ spoke up next, tears slipping at the memory. Khonshu looks down at you, his hand itches to wipe the teardrop off your face.

Horus nods, “It is indeed a noble gesture, granted had you instead summoned the suit all of this would have been avoide-” 

“Because the suit only could be summoned at night.” You state back, “I can only be Moon Knight when the moon shines.”

Hathor comes to your defense, “And why are you to blame her for the vile actions of another? Has time away from being worshipped really hindered your ability to think? Isn’t Khonshu living true to his statement, as a protector of travelers in the night?” Horus could only grumble in return, “I see in what I said was wrong, forgive me, Avatar of Khonshu.”

You weakly nod at him, not meeting anyone’s eyes. 

“Then it is concluded, you are to freely walk away innocent in the eye of the Ennead,” Osiris addresses the room, fellow Avatars in agreement. “But should you pull another move like that Khonshu, you will be imprisoned in stone.” 

I… I understand. The grip on his staff softens when he sees you turn to him, a sad smile gracing your face.

Everyone in the room departs through the portal, leaving you two alone in the chamber. 

—

You were in a deep sleep that night, Khonshu knows this because it was his doing for what’s about to come. You were restless hours prior, sitting on the balcony, overlooking the quiet streets, listening to Khonshu as he recalls his time long before his banishment. The moon is at its fullest form, its moonlight bouncing off your white nightgown, your image of a goddess in a mortal form in Khonshu’s eyes. 

The moon is at its highest peak, this is where our abilities are at their most powerful. Do you feel it? His beak points upwards to the moon and you follow, turning your head and basking in the glow. “Hmm, more like sleepy more than anything,” you yawn, “Like really sleepy…” Its hypnotic gleam is lulling you to drowsiness.

Then it is best that you allow yourself rest, little bird. You don’t resist it when Khonshu carries you back to bed bridal style, the cool sheet of your blanket and the softness of your pillows welcome you into slumber. 

The spell worked, Khonshu stays there for a moment, his hand threading itself through your hair, he etches the sight of your face, at ease and peaceful, unknowing the sin he is about to commit.

He can only pray that you don’t ever find out.

He steps back and grabs his staff with both hands, his robes swaying erratically, the moonlight in the bedroom glowing brighter as he channels himself into you. The glowing crescendos and your body floats from the bed for a second, landing back on the cushions with a soft thud. 

He blinks his eyes open, a foreign feeling for a being who never had eyes before. He gets up from the bed and comes across the full body mirror, your face greets him. He lifts his hands and feels the softness of your cheeks, the firm bridge of your nose, and the delicate bow of your lips. He mimics your smile albeit it comes as artificial as the ones you give him naturally.

He steps back and looks at you fully, he has seen you bare before, many times in fact. But the fresh new perspective of your beauty seems to have taken his breath again. The moonlight suits you. With the soft breeze softly sifting through the pearly nightgown, you looked like an angel. His heart seizes at the thought of you, this time he can actually feel it. How love has gotten a hold of him tightly. You‘ve got him wrapped in your fingers.

But he isn’t here to admire you, no, he’s here strictly for business. He calls the suit, catching a glimpse of stark white in his eyes in the mirror before his head tilts back, letting the ceremonial gauze wrap around his body. 

He feels the adrenaline you talk of when he leaps out of the balcony, the energy that bursts straight into his veins as he sprints across the roofs, the thrill he feels in the jumps he makes, feeling the cool night wind flowing past the mask. It's exhilarating, no wonder you’re skittish and lively in the suit, an utter difference in demeanor you have outside the vigilante mantle, timid and bashful. 

He manifests his staff out of thin air and thrusts it forward, a blast of an airstream coming behind him, he leaps into it and the wind guides him where he needs to be.

Khonshu finds the man who wronged you in no time, his misdeed leads to him like a beacon. He walks alone in a crowded street so Khonshu follows him around until he gets a chance. He isn’t surprised in any way with how he acts towards the people around him, he is as kind and charismatic as you described him long ago, it’s terrifying that with a warm personality like his that he can still harbor ill intentions. 

He sees him alone in a corner, lighting a cigarette, a flash of spark then a puff of smoke. This is the opportunity he’s waiting for. He lands behind him, grabs him by the back of his neck, and throws him into the dark alley. “What the fuck do you th-” a swift punch to the face silences him, blood dripping from his nose, “H-hey man! Just take the wallet, man! Fuck, here-” Khonshu slaps the leather from his pleading hand, stepping closer to him as he scurries away until his back meets cement. “That’s all I got I swear! W-what do you want from me?” He cries out into the dark.

What I want is for you to right your wrong, Khonshu spits out, venom dripping in his words, and I want it in blood. Another punch to the face. He lands on his side, crying out in pain.

Blind fury overcomes Khonshu as he starts relentlessly beating the man to the ground, his cries blending out as white noise to his ears, and the sound of flesh striking flesh slowly turns to a sickening crunch of bone. He doesn’t realize the tears running off his face and dropping on the man’s brutalized body, he’s curled up clutching his broken arm. He only stopped when your name fell off the man’s lips, begging you to stop.

Khonshu looks at his bloodied fist, the wrappings gone, knuckles dripping in deep crimson. Then he noticed your hair in front of his face, mask unraveled. He doesn’t recall doing that, might have been a manifestation of his subconscious. 

Stop? Stop?! Did you stop when you defiled her?! Your voice doesn’t come out of your mouth as he lands a swift kick at him, his body flinging against the adjacent wall. 

“Who are you?! You have her face but-” the man stammers as he looks at Khonshu with one good eye.

I am Khonshu, protector of travelers in the night, god of vengeance, and the final word of overdoers. The price you pay for the sin you have committed, Khonshu draws his staff, will be paid with your life. He drives the end through his heart, dragging the staff upwards, letting him slowly impale down back. The man frailly grips the staff, his blood running down the shaft and onto Khonshu’s hands, staining the pure white of his robes with sinful red.

Khonshu drags the body down to the cobblestone ground, a slick sound leaving as he retracts the staff out of him. He steadies his deep breaths and lets out a tight squeeze on his staff as it vanishes, dressing once again wrapping his fist beginning the healing process. He wipes away the streaks of tears off his face and puts the mask on, leaving him behind, cold and lifeless in an alleyway. 

You awoke the next morning as if nothing ever happened, the early rays of sunlight starting to peek through the balcony, Khonshu looks back at you from the railings; watching the sunrise and you tell him of a vivid dream you had. He tells you not to think too much about it.

—

You sit at the pew for what seems like hours, his parents thank you for coming, and you nod back at them your gaze unfocused, eyes holding a dull luster, distant footsteps muffle into still quietness signifying that you’re alone.

“I think I know what’s wrong with me,” you spoke into the eerie stillness, “I mourn for the person that what once before you hurt me, he was kind a-and-” you sniff and rub your nose, “and I’m sad that I lost him, maybe it’s stupid of me to separate you like that but he was my friend.” A sob fills the air, “But the truth is, you were never my friend at all, weren’t you? You probably planned this from the start, from when we first met in that cafeteria all those years ago, you played me.” Your hands are folded in prayer, “Now when I look back, all those memories we had are tainted, knowing your true intention, and I don’t regret leaving without a word that night.” 

You look up at the polished mahogany wood. “I have lived before you entered my life and I will still live without you in it, you don’t have a hold on me anymore.” You get up from your seat, “I’m at peace now, knowing that you would never hurt me like that ever again.” 

The sun starts its descent behind the horizon as you step out of the church, and you see a woman wave at you from the gate, her features obscured by the golden hours, you squint and cover the side of your face blocking the sunlight while the other waves back. You approach her and immediately recognize her.

“Yatzil, and your goddess, Hathor.” You bow in respect of the hidden goddess, “Long time no see.”

“Avatar of Khonshu, it’s nice to see you again.” Her melodic voice and charming smile greet you.

—

The sound of the open road, the mechanical whirring of the convertible, and the loud volume of some popular rock song playing from the radio station fill the golden sky.

“So what brings you here of all places, Yatzil? Here to pay respects?” you joke, not taking your focus away from the endless highway, grip on the stirring wheel unnecessarily taut. She smiles from her place in the passenger seat, “No, that man does not deserve any respect from man or gods alike, Hathor sides with me on that.” She reaches out to squeeze your right shoulder, the softness and sincerity of her gesture are close to making you break down all over again but you hold it back with a sniff. 

“Yeah, real piece of shit isn’t he? Anyways, you’re not here to talk about him aren't you, what’s up? Anything the Ennead asking of us?” She giggles at your lingo, the brash words slipping from your mouth a harsh contrast to your sweet face is her reasoning behind it, that statement made you laugh. She had told you that from the last time you were together. 

“You know us so well,” her smile captivates you, making the car swerve a little, “unfortunately yes, the Ennead has tasked us with something utmost important.” Your eyes snap back to the front to hide the faint blush on your cheeks, “Oh yeah? That’s what they call every mission assigned to us every time, what makes this one ‘utmost important’?” 

“There is to be an oncoming lunar eclipse,” her comment directed at you and Khonshu, Whereas a full moon is our most powerful uprising, a lunar eclipse is the severing of our strength. Especially a complete lunar eclipse, you will have no access to the ceremonial suit of healing. You will be rendered defenseless for as long the moon is under eclipse. The bodiless voice of Khonshu informs you.

“Khonshu tells me I can’t call the suit during lunar eclipses, what’s that got to do with anything? It’s not surprising for an Avatar under the god of the moon to match with the moon’s phases, I’m strongest at full moon but weakest at new moon.” You relay what Khonshu said to Yatzil. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” a worried look takes up Yatzil’s face, “at the peak of the eclipse, there is a sliver that Thoth will break free from captivity. I don’t want you hurt during your vulnerability.” 

“Thoth, as in the Thoth that Khonshu fought the ‘moon god’ title for in a vicious battle that I read in a textbook one time?” Your shout over the bustling noise, “So what, he breaks out and is coming for Khonshu to take back his rightful mantle in bloodshed and violence?” Yatzil confirms your theory, “Yes, a really lucky guess to the upcoming predicament, but fortunately, we can continue to seal him away.” 

Exasperation scrunches your face, “Ugh, you know what? I am way too starved to talk about Khonshu getting his lights knocked out, which is hilarious to think of by the way,” You insolate wor- “I’m kidding, love you, baby.” That seems to shut him up quickly, Yatzil raises her eyebrows, knowing full well who the endearment is for. “There’s this dingy little diner I frequent, dinner’s on me?” You offer Yatzil and she accepts with a grin.

—

The clinking of dishes and utensils resonates from behind the counter, bustling laughter erupts comes from a group of people at the farthest table, and the savory aroma of dinner elopes the atmosphere when you and Yatzil arrive, making way to a table with a window view.

“What’s the plan exactly? You mentioned earlier about being able to continue the seal?” Cutting the meat into bits as you converse with Yatzil, “There is, yes, Hathor tells me that her previous Avatar aided in the last effort of Thoth’s concealment,” I remember that dreadful night, so many lives were lost in meaningless bloodshed. “Avatars scattered across the globe meet upon hours of the eclipse and chant the spell that tethers Thoth into the ground until the next eclipse to come.” Yatzil’s knife scrapes against the porcelain plate.

“Seems simple enough, where do we find Thoth?” voice muffled through a stuffed mouth, “I’m afraid the whole ordeal isn’t as simple as how I have put it, dear,” Yatzil’s fork stabs at her food, “No eclipses happen at the same spot, it is only at the day of the eclipse where Khonshu can lead us, the moon calls onto him, leading those Avatars before as he did for centuries as he will with us.”

You look out to the window, watching Khonshu as he basks in the moonlight, “So we don’t know where it is at the moment, that’s okay, the next eclipse will be in what? A month or so from now, we’ll be fine, I’ll be prepared by then,” Yatzil jerks still from eating, “The next eclipse… is in three days…” You mirror her stillness, “Three days?! I-I can’t, that’s too soon! I can handle hunting down unholy cultists and stopping vile rituals but a whole god? I-I’m not strong enough for that.” Your mind races and your breathing quickens, Yatzil reaches her hand out to yours and grounds you back, “Hey, look at me, like you said, we’re going to be fine, you’ll have me and other Avatars by your side when it happens. You will not deal with this alone,” she brushes your hair back to soothe your nerves. Your heart does the opposite and skips a beat.

“I think we’re done with our dinner? Let’s rest, there is much work to be done, beloved Avatar of Khonshu.” She gets up from her seat, comes to you, and helps you out of your seat, her hand in yours as you leave the diner. With a revving of an engine, the glow of brake lights, and the crunching of tires against the rocky ground, you exit the parking lot and head to a nearby motel.

—

Midnight draws close as you enter the reception, booking separate rooms for you and Khonshu; Yatzil, and her goddess. “This is a very kind gesture of you, dinner was already enough, you don’t have to pay for our room.” Yatzil yawns as you hand her key, “Nonsense, you are my friend. Your gratitude is payment enough, get some sleep, we’ll talk more in the morning.” A yawn leaves you as well, “Goodnight then, sleep well.” Yatzil bids goodbye, “Goodnight to you too, Yatzil.”  A gentle metallic click from her door ends the conversation, you head to your room and do the same.

It was only after washing up you see Khonshu sitting on the cheap motel bed. No crease or fold to be found where he sits, as opposed to when you make your place by his side, the rustling of the lily-white sheets prominent in the tranquility of the room.

I do not want you anywhere the eclipse will be held. Khonshu starts, making you look up to him in confusion.

“Didn’t you hear what Yatzil said? The Avatars are supposed to come together an-” you bite back, ready to talk him out of whatever he’s trying with you.

I have spoken. You will not be there for as long as the eclipse hangs on the moon and that is final. He doesn't meet your gaze, his head looming down, elbows resting on his knees.

“Khonshu…” You trail your fingers against the wrappings of his forearm, intertwining your hands with his as it meets it at the end. “What’s wrong?” Your other hand grabs his beak with uttermost tenderness and face him to you, the mere act melts Khonshu’s stubborn demeanor, rendering him a mush of sappiness. He preens at your touch, his protective walls crumble and he wonders why he put it up in the first place if it meant not being able to relish in your love.

I have lost so many of my Avatars trying to conceal Thoth, seeing their final breaths are always something I never truly settled with. To see their end as martyrs will haunt my very being. I cannot let the same happen to you. You lean into his beak, eyes closing as you listen to the soothing baritone.

“But you need me out there just as I need you, we can’t do this alone,” you whisper into the bone, “We don’t know what will happen in the next three days but I do know whatever I’ll do, I’ll do it with you by my side.” You seal it with a kiss on his beak.

He turns his body fully to you now, Then let it be from here on out, I devote myself to you, in life and in death. For when you wake in the sun I will wake with you. For when you rest in the moon, I will rest with you. You are my beginning and my end. My love for you is unending, plentiful until the end of time. His hand squeezes against yours.

“Were those your wedding vows? I haven’t written down mine yet,” you laugh softly, “And I devote myself to you, Khonshu, god of the moon, for I will love you for as long I walk the Earth. My heart overflowing with love only for you, I will never leave your side. Only in death may do us apart.” You lean in for another kiss, searing the devotement onto his beak.

The analog clock on the nightstand faintly clicks into 12 AM. Dawn of the first day, 72 hours remain.

[alicemitch09writes]

rose-colored sheets

pairing: reader x semi eita

summary: afterglow moments with the sky painting in the room with tints of rose with the sweetest, grouchiest, most lovable boy.

author’s notes: this fic is dedicated to my shiratorizawa love - semi eita, whose birthday was yesterday (nov 11). it’s kinda an old drabble of mine on deviantart that i decided to transfer here. also, the song is a bit overused in almost all of my fics, but it’s an absolute favorite of mine. it’s ‘la vie en rose’ particularly cristin miloti’s.

disclaimer: i own NOTHING but the plot.

Soft breaths escape his mouth as gentle fingers run through his thick ash blond mane, he snuggles deeper into her. Even with his eyes closed, he knew she wore a smile on her face.

Knuckles rubbed at the nape of his neck, making him groan – it was his favorite spot. In turn, he tightened his hold on her body.

Light cracked through the curtains, bathing the two bodies in an ethereal glow.

Hold me close and hold me fast

The magic spell you cast

This is La Vie En Rose

He loved listening to her sing, loved it more when it was just the two of them and she’d lull him to sleep. Being her only audience meant that he was special. She had such an angelic voice.

He pressed his face into her chest, his hair tickling her skin and she laughs that sweet laugh of hers.

“Eita!” she cries. “I’m still sensitive, you know!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, lifting his head to hers, meeting her gentle (eye color) hues. He leans in, their noses touching, and presses the lightest of kiss to her lips.

When you kiss me, heaven sighs

And though I close my eyes

I see La Vie En Rose

The corners of his mouth curve, sending delicious shivers down her spine.

They had so much planned today, considering it was his birthday. Actually, she had the day planned out for him – they were going to watch a movie, have lunch with a few members of his high school volleyball team, do some groceries, and spend the evening cooking.

But here they were after an hour or so (she lost count) in bed, and is yet to get up. She couldn’t blame him, he was the birthday boy, after all.

Eita breathed a sigh into her cheeks, bringing his lips to her ears. “Keep singing.”

When you press me to your heart

I'm in a world apart

A world where roses bloom

Cupping his cheeks, she gently brought his face to hers, wanting him to hear every word as she sang with all her heart.

And when you speak, angels sing from above

Everyday words seem to turn into love songs

Hazel-brown eyes soften with each line, drawing a hand up to hers, lacing their fingers together. Just staring into his eyes – eyes filled with so much love and compassion for her – it never failed to make her heart swell every time.

She felt like the luckiest woman on earth.

Give your heart and soul to me

And life will always be

La Vie En Rose

[slashingdisneypasta]

Michael Myers x 'Pink’!Reader || Drabble

(NOTE!: ‘Pink’!Reader just means they like pink and fluffy things and its genuinely a character point. Its not by any means a gender- just a way for me to tell Drabbles apart, :D)

Plot: Establishing a relationship with The Shape; The smart way. Or, trying to. 

Warnings: I… think… its actually, total, pure fluff? I mean, there’s some kissing, but apart from that?? Wow.  

~~~

Now, comfortable in your pyjamas with a plate of potato gems and apple slices between you, because if you’re going to have a conversation like this then you’ve decided you’re going to be comfy. You even gave Michael a blanket to sit under, which he actually has, awkwardly, laid on his lap.

At least, you assume he’s awkward. He looks awkward.

But then again, when does a huge, fully grown man in coveralls and a dirty grandpa mask under a pink Dumbo blanket not look awkward?

Crossing your legs tailor-fashion, you wait a moment before speaking; Letting the setting sink into both of you… before taking a deep breath. “So… Michael. Yes or no? You came here earlier, at about… mm, 6.40 with this letter,” Laying out all the facts for him and the crumpled-up dish and chips menu with his messy chicken scrawl on it like some kind of judge in a cotton candy kitten onesie in place of the charcoal robes of tradition. “That says you want be… like… Rose and Jack?”

Your cheeks tint pink remembering how you watched Titanic together, that’s where he got the reference from. But, you stay professional, and look up and raise your eyebrows, only slightly awkwardly, to the man. Yes or no?

He nods.

“I assume, with less death?”

He raises his hand and makes an ‘eh’, gesture.

Okay.

You swallow, glancing back at your ‘evidence’, again. “Uhm… we- uh,” What now? I’ve laid out the facts! What next!? You look back at Michael, eyes round. “Really?”

Again, a nod.

Sweet mother of Jesus, I’m basically a Jigglypuff; A Kerbie. A Miss Piggy, an Abbey Cadabby, a regular Elle Woods. But this man is the one that makes your heart flutter, Y/N?

At just a nod!?

What a plot twist.

You tilt your head and let a perky smile slip across your face. “Me too… “Another moment of eye contact, or eye-hole contact, and you lose your courage again and look down, clearing your throat. “O-okay- Okay. Okay. Um. So. How would this… work… ?”

Michael doesn’t hesitate, just moves closer to you, sitting down right beside you and leaning in close. Not quite kissing, not even quite touching. Just close enough that you feel his warmth and the gentle rub of the fabric of his coveralls and you can see his eyes despite the darkness of his mask. He leans one of his hands by your thigh, so you’re basically fitting together like testing puzzle pieces and leans over you. You blush so hotly that you swear, he could fry an egg on your forehead.

He’s… so… large…

He starts to lean his face down even closer to your face and you just about explode, putting a hand on his shoulder to halt him in his tracks. He blinks, confused beyond the mask. “Aha… “The nervous giggles are slippery and come out like gasoline out of a puddle of water. “Well, I sort of have an idea about how that will work, Mi-Michael, but uh… I meant how this relationship, is going to work. I mean, you’re… “You glance at him up and down. “Solomon Grundy crossed with a mammoth and a family of wolverines- to put it lightly. And I’m Miss Honey.”

The sigh Michael lets go of in his mask is audible and you raise your eyebrows and your shoulders. “Well!” You drop your hands back to the bed. “I’ve never dated a serial killer before!”

I mean, some lawyers and a cab driver, but- hey. Hey, HEY! Michael!-

His masked lips touch your bare ones first, as your first kiss. Your eyes blow open at the feeling, the oddly nice feeling as you feel the rubber of the mask but also the warmth it soaks up from his real lips that are just beyond, and the lovely pressure he uses against your mouth.

One of his huge hands cups your shoulder entirely so when you pull back he’s still able to keep you close. “Okay, but Michael- “

Another, shorter kiss. Your eyelids fall heavily over your eyes, but you fight to stay strong.

“Shouldn’t we discuss- “

He tugs the hair of his mask up to reveal his mouth and whiskery jaw. Your eyes blow open again. “Okay, kissing! Jolly good, um, okay. Yep.” You touch your firetruck cheeks, flustered. “… kissing. “

His mouth stretches into the faintest grin at your funny reaction and he moves his hand on your shoulder, and the one on the bed, to your waist now. You line your fingertips along his both sides his jaw, glancing up and down, and back up to tug down his mask and again just for a moment so you can look him seriously in the eyes. “Just… tell me when, okay? When you want to stop anything, ever.”

He only spares you a nose touch that straight up, and ironically enough, resurrects the butterflies in the pit of your stomach before shooting forward and capturing your lips with his for real, for the first time.

[strange-n-unbluusual]

Pink! Ch. 1: The Setup

*Beetlejuice/Original Female Character. Adult situations. 18+ only.*

Summary: After six breather years away from the house on the hill, Beetlejuice returns to find it overrun by coeds. Lydia allows him to stay, but with rules. Things get more interesting when Beck, one of the housemates, reveals she can see him. Following a saucy, sordid affair, Beetlejuice finds himself lingering around Beck more and more. But will her affection last? And why does it seem to bother Lydia so much?

50% drabble, 50% actual plot. DMs are always open for thoughts, feedback and suggestions. Ty. On AO3 as CopperContessa_13

Energy in the Victorian house on the hill was high as 20-somethings laughed at everything and chugged cheap beer. Speakers were only set up in the living room, but the raised bass made the whole house jump. A thin mist of condensation hung in the air. Heavy petting was rampant and drinks flowed freely. Dimmed lighting gave the house a kind of an “Eyes Wide Shut” feel, but it was just sweaty, sloppy, young fun.

Beetlejuice fucking hated it.

Usually he liked being a voyeur to the hedonism that events like this brought, but tonight he was annoyed. The ghost with the most could only stand sitting out on all the fun for so long. He craved attention and was now starting to starve for it.

So much had changed in the barely six breather years he was away. Chuck and Delilah had turned the place into a rental for college students, all of the rooms had been redecorated by people with much worse taste (needs stripes!) and— of course— Lydia had grown up. He sat on the kitchen counter and watched her carry on conversation with some rando. Still short, still draped in dark colors, but clearly more comfortable with herself. He noticed she laughed more, at least. And the tattoos on her thigh and arms told him she’d also found a way to express herself.

Beetlejuice bounced his leg and fidgeted with his pants, fighting the urge to make a scene. Locking eye contact with Lydia for a moment, he pouted and pleaded with his eyes for her to let him do something (anything!) to get a rise out of someone. She just gave a small head shake of disapproval. Beetlejuice dramatically crossed his arms and sulked. Lydia giggled, but he couldn’t tell if it was at him.

She was the only one willing to give him a chance after it all happened, but she had her rules. No coercing a mortal to summon him, namely. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to cross her. What good was being back if he can’t be seen? What good was company if you feel alone?

The Maitlands were nowhere to be seen since his reappearance— something that obviously bugged Lydia. They had to be around somewhere, but neither one could figure out where they hid. A gnawing sensation in his barely-there conscience reminded him it was his fault that things were this way. He brushed it off. It wasn’t like she hadn’t made living friends, he thought watching people squirm past each other as they tried to move room to room.

Hopping off the counter, he slunk away, corporeal enough that dragging his hand on the counter knocked a nondescript bottle onto the floor. He was not corporeal enough, however, for anyone to call him (specifically) out on his party foul. Through the bumping music and carrying on, no one even noticed it shatter on the floor. They just walked through the shit.

Woe is Beej.

He liked to mope on the roof when he was moody. Sitting with his knees pulled against his chest, Beetlejuice took a dramatic breath he didn’t need to and looked up at the moonless sky.

“Hey asshole, you owe me a new bottle of cognac,” a voice quipped from behind him.

“Hey now, that’s Mr. Asshole to y—“ His words died in his mouth as realization hit him square in the face.

That’s not Lydia’s voice.

Twisting his head 180 degrees, he recognized the woman behind him as one of Lydia’s roommates. Her relaxed body posture was juxtaposed against a wide-eyed, eyebrow-knitted expression. Seems as if she was cool about the situation before seeing his inhuman reflexes.

“You’ve seriously got to be fucking with me right now,” Beetlejuice said, eyes narrowing. “Beck! Have you been able to see me this whole damn time?”

She looked at him, eyebrows raised in disbelief. It felt so weird to hear him address her.

Beetlejuice’s ceaselessly annoying antics forced Lydia to spend more time out of the house. He learned to adapt, though. Spooking the housemates he didn’t like and spying on the ones he did was a favorite pastime. He’d hang around their shoulders and entertain himself with whatever they were doing on their phones. He liked TikTok compilations a lot. Also porn.

Out of everyone, Beck was the least fun. She never paid attention to any of his pranks or complained much when her underwear went missing. She never even downloaded TikTok. Not even ironically! All this time he thought she was lame. She was probably laying low on purpose, he realized.

She averted her eyes and shifted her posture, clearly uncomfortable.

“Ehh… Could you put your head back on right first?”

Challenged, Beetlejuice rose up on all fours to crab walk towards the window. He made a show of it, grossly twisting all of his limbs as he moved towards her. She groaned. Untwisting himself, he perched one arm on the windowsill and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her.

“Wait until you see what my dick can do,” he smirked.

Beck tried to roll her eyes and look unfazed, but Beetlejuice caught a faint blush creep up her neck.

Beck was something to look at when the house hosted these ragers. Tonight was no different. Even if he wasn’t much in the mood, Beetlejuice most definitely noticed the way she’d move in her tight dresses and skimpy tops. Ah, college.

“Don’t be weird. You owe me liquor,” she said pointedly as he crawled back into the room.

“Beck, babe,” Beetlejuice said with a sigh. “I can’t do cognac, but I bet I can do you one better. Bet you’ve never had home brew from the Netherworld.”

She quirked an amused eyebrow but said nothing.

“Think about it! You’ll be able to out-snob all of your other wino friends,” he mused.

“We’re amateur cicerones!”

Beetlejuice just laughed. Beck crossed her arms across as she considered his offer. He couldn’t help but stare at her boobs as they peaked ever-so-slightly more from the motion. Finally, she let out a sigh and rolled her eyes.

“We are pretty snobby…”

Beetlejuice just chuckled and gave her a mischievous smile before disappearing.

⁂

He reappeared minutes later gripping two six packs of unmarked glass bottles. Beck had slipped into something more comfortable— that is to say, a far cry from her earlier getup. Beetlejuice’s demeanor visibly deflated when he noticed her skimpier attire was traded out for a more modest hoodie and sweatpants.

“Aren’t you going to be hot in that?”

“Not up here. Fuck going back downstairs,” she snorted.

“Wow,” Beetlejuice deadpanned. “Ditching a party to drink alone. So hardcore.”

“Well I don’t have to drink alone. Do I…?” She gave him an expectant look.

“Do you?!” he squealed. In a second, he’d dropped the booze on her desk, grabbed one for himself and jumped on her bed. “No, babe, you don’t.”

Beck gave a small chuckle and grabbed a bottle for herself. Through the tinted glass, she couldn’t tell much about the lukewarm liquid other than it was more viscous than what she was used to drinking. Aside from a lingering sweet scent, the dark substance gave no other indication of what it was. She took a sip.

“In the Netherworld, we call that ’blood,’” Beetlejuice said nonchalantly. He looked up after a beat to see her looking at him wide-eyed with a mouthful of the stuff. “But it’s like. Not actually blood.”

With the same intense stare, Beck finally swallowed.

“Not human blood, at least.”

She looked like she was going to vomit before a barking laugh gave away his ruse. Her posture eased.

“Babe, you make this too easy!”

In between conversation, they drank. Beck sat at the foot of the bed while Beetlejuice laid back into her pillows. A look on her face gave away her mild discontent about his stench being on her things, so he made sure to get extra cozy. He kicked off his shoes and belched before taking a swig.

“You’re a terrible houseguest,” she groaned.

“You’re a terrible host! You could see me this whole time and said nothing!?”

Beck shrugged.

“Lydia told me it would be better that way.”

He shrunk a little bit hearing those words. Beck felt a little shocked, seeing his expression drop. It was the first time she had noticed him show anything aside from lust and snark. She didn’t know what to say.

“I-It’s not like I asked for this. I don’t know why I can see you. Lydia said strange and unusual people keep strange and unusual company,” Beck finally said.

“That’s weird,” Beetlejuice said. “Usually it means you’re dying.”

She sharply caught her breath in shock.

“Seriously, Beck! Too easy. Of course you’re dying. We all die. Sometimes more than once.”

“Comforting.”

A light, effervescent feeling rose in the pit of her stomach and began to spread to her limbs. Beck looked at her bottle and saw it was only about halfway gone. How the hell was she already starting to feel tipsy?

“Potent, right?”

“I swear to god, if you put something in here, Lydia is just a text away,” Beck warned, leaning over to jab a finger squarely into his chest. “And she still has that book that can tell how to banish you.”

Beetlejuice stared at Beck’s finger than back her, unimpressed. He grabbed it, but only to move it away. She tried to seem undeterred, but brief terror in her eyes betrayed her.

“Bold of you to threaten a demon, Beck,” he laughed. “But you have nothing to worry about. I’m not that kind of monster.”

A bit more relaxed, she got up to grab two more of the unmarked bottles before easing back onto the bed. Passing one to him, she decided to lay out at the top of the bed this time. She looked at him while resting her head on her hand. Even baggy sweatpants couldn’t hide the curve of her thick thighs and rockin’ ass, he thought.

A familiar, unwelcome tightness in his pants made him switch his position. Beetlejuice tried to distract himself.

“The fuck kind of a name is Beck anyway?”

She cracked open her second drink, seemingly not thinking anything of Beetlejuice’s decision to sit cross-legged with a pillow on his lap.

“It’s short for Bexley.”

“…Okay, well, what the fuck kind of a name is Bexley??”

“Well what the fuck kind of a name is Beetlejuice?” She shot back.

“Huh?” He asked, holding a hand to his ear.

“Beetlejuice!”

“Run that by me one more time, baby. You mumble.”

He thought maybe she didn’t know how summoning worked, but she caught on. Beck giggled and flopped onto her back. Ever clingy, Beetlejuice was too enamored with the moment to worry about being caught breaking Lydia’s rules. A goofy smile slipped on his face watching her.

“Fuck you,” she said through a laugh.

“Yes, please.”

Those words caught her off guard. She didn’t respond, just broke eye contact as a blush lit up her face. Beetlejuice couldn’t help but drink her in.

“Not sure why you’d care, but Bexley is a family name,” She said as soberly as she could. The drink was really settling into her veins now. “At one point, it was my great great great grandmothers maiden name. She got married and had no other siblings to pass it on. So every generation since then has had a ‘Bexley.’ Unless you’re a stupid kid like me who couldn’t pronounce the whole thing. So, Beck it is.”

He reflected thoughtfully on what she said for a moment.

“My first name is Lawrence!” he blurted.

There was nothing funny about it, but Beck laughed anyway. Mostly at his enthusiasm. It felt infectious. “Do you always get so giggly when you drink?” He asked.

“Lawrence,” she tried the name out in her mouth. “Laaaaawrence. Lawrence.”

She rolled over and looked up at him thoughtfully. Cautiously, she reached up and touched his forehead. A streak of pink exploded at the roots above where her touch landed.

“I always liked how your hair turns colors,” she said thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve seen light pink before, though. Do they all mean something?”

“Yeah! Pink means you give me a boner, Bexley.” He blurted out. He reached under the pillow on his lap to pull out an actual bone. “It’s a fibula this time!” They both doubled over in drunken laughter. Neither could help it. After a minute, Beck placed a hand on his shoulder for balance and propped herself up to look him in the eye. His mouth opened partially in shock, recognizing the look she was giving him.

“You make me wet, Lawrence,” she said while tipping the rest of her second drink into her mouth. She did a sloppy job of it, droplets running off the side. Without thinking, Beetlejuice grasped her sides and pulled in to lap them up. He squeezed the flesh under her hoodie in a hard and needy way. Beck moaned and threw her head back.

Like instinct, her hands tangled in his hair and urged him to move further down. She gasped when he bit her neck, hungry to feel her under him. It was when she ran a hand down his torso towards the pillow on his lap that he remembered himself. Beetlejuice backed off, suddenly aware that he felt like he was being watched.

It took everything in him to push her off and stand up. He couldn’t even manage words, just held up his hands and backed away.

“Lawrence, what the fuck?” Beck said.

But he was already gone.

⁂ The house was a deadzone when he came back. The crowd was gone, leaving a huge pile of cans in their wake. There was no vomit this time, so they probably figured the mess could wait. It just made him feel more at home, anyway. He floated up the stairs. After making sure Lydia was safely in bed, Beetlejuice decided to check on Beck.

Her snores were muffled by the pillows she buried her head in. The way she was splayed out on the mattress was endearing, but the way her boobs nearly hung out of her bunched up hoodie made him hard again. Beck had left her pants on the floor, showing off a pretty pink thong. Spank bank filled, he was about to leave when she sleepily called out.

“Lawrence?” She said dazedly, raising her head. It killed him how innocent she sounded saying it. Fumbling with his jacket, he stayed quiet while he hesitated to answer. She called again, still.

“I know you’re here. I can smell you.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Beck,” he said “Do you remember what happened?”

“What? Of course,” she scoffed, sitting up to look at him. “I want more of that ‘blood.’ Double the high and none of the hangover. Now come lay down.”

Well, she did ask. He shrugged out of his jacket, stripping to only to his button-down and a ratty pair of briefs. Socks on, of course. He was a gentleman.

Beck scooted aside and haphazardly covered herself with a blanket. A passing look in her eye made him think she knew exactly what she was doing. He had so many questions, but now wasn’t the time. Her heavy lidded eyes let him know she was desperate to sleep. Beck reached out to lightly touch a spot of moss on his cheek. She smiled.

“What?” Beetlejuice said.

“I was wondering if the moss turns colors too.”

Her words made him melt. Beetlejuice knew he’d eventually have to answer to Lydia for sneaking around with her roommate, but it was worth it. For now, he was happy to hold Beck close and save the tougher conversations for morning.

“Hey, Beck?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I be the little spoon?”

“Yeah.”

[littlesilverplatinum]

😉 ; Are there any ships for your muse that you enjoy, or ships that you would like to see happen? 😳 ; What is something or someone you have always wanted to write with? i.e. a particular plot, a character, etc.🙄 ; What are your biggest pet peeves when it comes to tumblr? 😠 ; Is there anything you dislike about your muse? ☹️ ; Do you have any insecurities about writing and/or interacting with other people?😮 ; What is your favourite thing about your muse?😍 ; Is there anyone who inspire

Munday Meme Part 1Send a Symbol@heartbxnd

—

😉 ; Arethere any ships for your muse that you enjoy, or ships that you would like tosee happen?

—

Shippinghas always been fun for me, and Ihave always enjoyed the experiences I have had regarding the pairs I havegotten the pleasure of writing over the years. Regarding ships for Hikari that I enjoy? It’s not a canoncharacter ship by any stretch of the imagination – but I deeply adore the shipbetween me and my friend Red (@xhentai-man / @redicidium). Jay and Hikari still sit very, very dear within my heart, andregardless how many other dynamics we create for hers and mines characters – the two of them stand out as the original OTP of this blog.–Regarding ‘canon’ ships? (Aka, Hikari’s Main verse/Pokémon verse).I have always enjoyed the dynamic of villains/anti-heroesand protagonists – and I neverreally thought myself to get that, given that there a lot of… Well, let’s say there’snot a lot of respect for charactersthat are developed beyond their ten year old canonical counterparts. (And I do realize there’s good reason for itat times, and that Hikari isn’t exactly a shining example – as she is, in mindand body, still a teenager.) But, well, I have been proven a bit wrong with that, haha.

So, Archer and Hikari (@executive-geneticist) is a ship I’m looking forward to seeingdevelop as time goes on, and it’s a ship that I enjoy greatly – even if notmuch has been built around it as of yet, beyond small mentions of things.

(Then, of course, there’s the ships I havegotten to write with friends on the side, or through drabbles. You can countyourself in this category, Vani ;v )

—

😳 ; What is something or someone you have always wanted to write with? i.e.a particular plot, a character, etc.

—

Surprisingly, the people that I have really wanted to write with, I have gotten the chance to write with. If allthose experiences, at the end of the day, was enjoyable? Well, noteverything can pan out in your favor. But, most of them have left me feeling happy, and were great experiences.(And truly, most of these haven’t ended –and I still talk to these people as often as the opportunity presents itself.)–Plots that I would like to do is abit harder to give a true answer to,as I have so many things that I wantto write, but most likely won’t. I would love the chance of having a threadwith Hikari’s father, regarding his ‘healing’crafts of which he left his family behind to pursue. Yet I realize that it’s a bitimpossible, given where his storylays in this moment – and that I need to move him forward in his timeframe, ifI want to have interactions that would be genuinely interesting.

Other thingsare just… To get to try more different themesof interactions, be they adventurebased or something else entirely. Igreatly enjoy world building withinthreads, and so that’s something I will always jump on to work through with awilling partner, should the chance present itself. (This goes for character development as well – as it’s wonderful to getto share that experience with a writing partner.) AU’s, of course, are greatfuntoo – and I really want to do paranormalrelated threads, because they seem like they would be a lot of fun. Themes differ,and I do have ideas for severalthings regarding hauntings, possessions or… anythinglike it.–I just haven’t gotten the chance to write it with anyone, or present it tosomeone who I could do a true thread with… Ifthat makes sense?

—

(Eye roll emoji) ; What are your biggest pet peeves when it comes to tumblr?

—

You’re trying to get me in trouble, aren’t you Vani?

This will strictly be about the rp side oftumblr, rather than the website as a whole:

Alright so…I’m sure this happens in any forumfor roleplay, but it’s something I have personal only noticed, since joiningthe tumblr rpc this past year. –Thread hoarders should really reconsider how they treat theirplatform. What I mean by that, is that it appears that people don’t see a limit to how many starter calls they will put up, how many calls for attention they give, so that they get piled up with things they need to do that – I suppose – makes them feel busyand important?A simplification of the matter, yes,but it’s always easier to understand things when they are simplified so… give me abreak. Lol.

Aka – it’s stupid of you to put out starter calls, or plotting calls, inbox callsor whatever you may do, when you KNOWthat you have 10+ threads and requests for starters sitting in yourdrafts. Because, y’know where that eventuallyleads you? You make a post that you’re goingto drop half of them, and only keep the interactions that you care about (often with friends – which isn’t bad mindyou)…. Only to then, in the samebreath, ask for more interactions.–As though you couldn’t understand WHY you had to drop things in the firstplace.

THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH HAVING A FEWINTERACTIONS AT A TIME! Seriously… I personally can’t handleit, if I have more than a few threads going at one time – and often the threadsI have are ‘demanding’, as I write a lot. Which is the way I like it, but that’s beside the point… Peopleneed to know their limits, and understand that it’s pretty shittybehavior to either ask for a starter that you KNOW you’ll never get to, or to promise starters and replies thatyou never intend to do.

It’s even shittier, if you can’tmessage the person who wrote something for you to let them know that you’re not actually feeling thethread/starter you two have together. Seriously… Trust me when I say thatthe people that you reject along the way will be happier that you were honestwith them, rather than leaving them in the dirt without messaging them back.

We all makemistakes, and I’m not perfect in these things either… But I know my limits.

Just.Please stop.

—

😠 ; Is there anything you dislike about your muse?

—

I alwaysfind questions like this hard to answer – even if the givenquestion asks for something I like about my muse. Because, of course I like my muse – and ofcourse there’s things I don’t like about my muse. But it’s hard to point them out, as often youview your characters through a bit of rose-tinted glasses that are hard to lookbeyond.–Just… Simply regarding Hikari as a person?She really holds grudges againstcertain people, yet can’t stand up against them. She is weak in so many ways, beit physically or mentally. Yet it’s not something that seemingly affects her inher ability to function. Hikari willinglyblinds herself to some things, and indulges herself far too much in others. And it’s hard to explain these things, as it allhas to do with context – but Hikari has many flaws within her personality and behavior,and I do hope that, in general, it showsin my writing regarding her.

Other thanthat…. From a mun/writer perspective? Girl is taxing as hell- pfft. I don’tdislike it about her, as I really do enjoy writing her – and its reallyall I do in my spare time, when given the option to. Seriously- my mind spins around with scenarios andideas regarding Hikari and her world constantly, and I can’t shut it the fUCK UP. But it can be mentallytaxing sometimes.

Somethingthat I combat by simply… turning my focusto any of my other characters, haha.

—

☹️ ; Do you have any insecurities about writing and/or interacting withother people?

—

Oh, absolutely! Though some of my fears haveleft me, as time has gone on, some still lingerand are seemingly… impossible to movepast. I do realize that, anyone that has ever talked to me for any longerthan a few minutes via privates chats can tell you that I’m,,, awkwardas hell. And I’m greatly aware of this fact, and it really doesn’thelp me in feeling as though I’m notan annoyance, or like I don’t say oddthings. I don’t know if it’s me having trouble coming into my own skin andfeeling confident in my thoughts and feelings, or excitements for certainthings – or if I’m truly socially inept haha. Either way – regarding characterinteraction… I, in general, just always stress about my writing. Thatit’s not as good as I would want itto be, that the starters I write for people lackdirection (even though they don’t appearthat way to me) and just… simplethings like that. If my way of writing is hard to read, if it’s toomuch, if Hikari is as flat as aboard and I just think that Ihave developed a decent character out of a protagonist that lacks anything besides appearance and the strengthyou give them along the way.

Just, y’know…casual such things.

—

😮 ; What is your favourite thing about your muse?

—

See theabove answer regarding what I dislike about my muse. It’s just… such a hard question ;;

—

😍 ; Is there anyone who inspires you or that you look up to?

—

My biggest writing inspiration to this day,and who has really changed the way I write for (hopefully) the better – is themangaka Asano Inio. Specifically, though it’s not the only work of his that I deeply enjoy and take inspiration from, Oyasumi Punpun. Just… Though its imagery,rather than written work where you have to imagine it all on your own, thingsare just told in such a beautiful manner – I feel I just have to capture those elements within my own writing.And I do really hope that I do itjustice, or that I can get at least even a fractionof a thousand closer to being as goodas him at telling stories and build characters that feel real. It’s a big reasonfor why I don’t try to (or subconsciouslydon’t) shy away from things thataren’t pretty regarding mycharacters. Let them have horrible, horriblethoughts – let them fail and do thingsthat are wrong. It makes them feel all the more real, or at least to me. Take inspiration from places that I havebeen, imagery that stuck out aboutthem and find the small things inlife to focus in on, that makes it all feel like a dream. Be they the way raindrops off a leaf that has fully come into its own, vibrant spring color – or the way rain sounds against wooden boardson a late summer evening.

That’s what Asano Inio has inspired me to do, and I am so grateful to have found his work.

…. Now, of course there’s people within thiscommunity that inspire me as well – and I do feel I can tag them, as all ofthem are friends of mine who I enjoytalking to both in just private, and ic. These are not the only people I enjoy writing with or for – but they are people whose writing I really enjoy, and I treasure beingable to write and talk with:

@xhentai-man, you soviet scum ;v you know i love everything we do@the-executives-stratagem, plotting with you is sO great and I love everything that we have going @executive-geneticist, you’re a joy to talk to, and your writing is engaging as hell and just… yes plz@puffyhat-kotone, best Lyra in the world I adore her with my whole heart, good wife best wife!!@magicmagikarp, out here bringing me high quality material and writing 10/10 would recommend 

[sing-me-under]

I have four Dream SMP works on my AO3.

My first work is Halcyon Days/Rose-Tinted Glasses, which is a series of canon compliant one-shots that all exist in the same universe. The average chapter length is about 800 words, and it’s mostly character and scene analyses with no overarching plot.

In Halcyon, I delve into my own pre-canon headcanons pretty often to set a basis for present character motivations. It features found family, avian!Tommy, and dreamon!Dream.

I highly do not recommend reading it since I started writing it shortly after getting into DSMP. I did not have a particularly good grasp on the characters and I hadn’t watched many of the streams yet, just clips (the first stream I ever watched was Technoblade’s stream the day before the finale). I was very much a Dream Apologists up until the March 1st stream in which fuck that guy.

My second work is Jade-Tinted Glasses, a series of one-shots that do not fit into Rose-Tinted. It’s AUs, canon-divergents, OSMP, other canon compliant universes. It’s also where I wrote my first soulmark AU that would eventually become my primary work.

Jade-Tinted and Rose-Tinted are pretty much abandoned. I don’t have enough motivation to write these anymore since I now have a different focus.

My third work is Heart Sleeves. This was intended to be like Rose-Tinted where it was a series of connected mostly canon-compliant drabbles that took place in a soulmark universe. And then I decided to write a plot for it.

Our Souls On Our Skin is my fourth, my primary, and only active work. It is a platonic soulmark canon-adjacent AU centered around Tommy and Dream. It follows canon but it is not canon-compliant in the slightest. The soulmark AU isn’t fated soulmates btw. It’s soul empathy. Soulmarks are broken and created at will. Also features Protégé!Tommy but not much.

The worldbuilding and backgrounds are very similar yet quite different from Rose-Tinted. If you read both of them, you’ll see the similarities then get caught off guard by the differences.

[beanmaster-pika]

hyacinth, daisy, buttercup & lavender? (hope all of those are actually on the list- orz)

Thank ye, Hazel~ (I’m getting to this so late OTL)

hyacinth: do you prefer to write angst or fluff?

Well, I do prefer fluff because I like happy things, but the angst always comes out better, y’know? It’s more centered on the raw emotions, and I love drawing it out and tempering it with my own style.

daisy: would you ever consider a career in writing?

Perhaps, in the side. I’ve always wanted to be a novelist, but that won’t pay the bills unless I can make it big *shrugs*

buttercup: do you prefer to write requests or come up with your own things?

I have far too many plot bunnies, so I like to write my own stuff 😅 But if I’m going to write drabbles or ficlets, or want to write something but am in a slump, I welcome prompts. I have too many hobbies tho OTL so ages can pass before I’m itching for a keyboard beneath my fingers and my words on a screen. Though a college in the area is doing some sort of writing competition, so I’m trying to write a very brief short story! And I do mean short; the limit is five double spaced pages.

lavender: what is the most important thing to you as a writer?

That my work makes me happy. I don’t want to churn out mediocre content; I want something that I’ll look back on and smile forever and ever and ever. Unfortunately this creates a sort of listless “I can’t” feeling sometimes and there’s gotta be at least a hundred unfinished fanfics in my documents OTL and my older works are horrendous without the rose-tinted lenses of immature childhood. But! I am very proud of my most recent works, so there’s that.

[ao3feed-lesmiserables]

Rose-Tinted Glasses

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2rUO1HS

by onepercent

Grantaire finally convinces Enjolras to step away from his work and step into a nice, lazy vacation on the beach.

Words: 1118, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Les Misérables - All Media Types

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Enjolras, Grantaire

Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire

Additional Tags: Domestic Fluff, No Plot/Plotless, Beaches, Fluff, Domestic, Married Life, vacations dude, literally no plot at all, just fluff, Dialogue Light, Drabble

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2rUO1HS

[roseateultra-blog]

At some point during the sailors singing your sister a birthday song, one of them comes to ask you where your parents are after you inform the group that you are, indeed, not Lily’s father.

You pull him aside while Lily is distracted to tell him that your mother passed quite a few years ago, and your dad is... estranged. Estranged in your mind being, you’d never even met the damn asshole. The sailor gives you a long look that you parse as sympathy after you stare off to the side for far too much time. Your eyes flicker to the floor instead after a moment more.

The sailor sees himself back to the celebration, at which point he and his crew seem to huddle up. Lily looks confused, and you distract her with lunch, specifically asking her what kind of Pokemon she wanted to catch next year on her eleventh birthday. You weren’t allowing her to journey for another year at least.

You’re not surprised, but you’re certainly taken off guard when the sailors go to the cash register and point at your table. You catch on to what they’re doing fairly quickly, and you try to ignore it until they come back with your check for lunch fully paid. Your ears burned with embarrassment. You could pay for yourself and your family just fine, thanks. You didn’t need pity. Still, the kindness of their act was touching, if not a bit unnecessary in your mind. Lily was the happiest about it in particular, especially when one of the sailors ordered her an enormous slice of cake that you would end up having to put in a box as leftovers.

You thanked the sailors personally, especially the one you had talked to on your own, as you were leaving. Lily was hopping with all the sugar and food as Napalm tried to keep himself wrapped around her, while you prepared to go back out into the cold to return home.

That sailor pulls you aside, much as you had done, and informs you that if you needed anything to give him a call. You register your number in his gear, then give them all a polite bow of your head, then leave. You looked at your sister, who was busy riding on Napalm’s warm back as you all trudged along to the magnet train station.

Happy birthday.