#ephe writes
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thinking about bokuroo in their thirties, reminiscing all the good times they've had so far and the memories they've created over the years, which eventually leads to bokuto saying, "but i still want to make more memories with you, kuroo. i bet even when we're old and grey we'd be the most fun to be around!" with a large beaming grin.
kuroo raises an eyebrow at him, caught off guard yet quickly hiding his surprise, "careful, bo, it kinda sounds like you're saying you want to be with me forever." at this point they've only just gotten together after a long time of pining and their relationship is still very fresh â maybe even too fresh.
but bokuto shrugs easily and he frowns a little. "yeah, that's exactly what i'm saying?" he looks puzzled by kuroo's response, until his eyes alight with something like realisation, a tinge of doubt shining through. his voice softens considerably then, "... am i the only one who's thinking that?"
the straightforwardness of it is what gets to kuroo as he coughs and rubs at the back of his neck, feeling the warmth that's blooming inside him spread everywhere. he can't meet bokuto's gaze, and in his typical roundabout way, he says: "no, it just sounded a little like a proposal. you've gotta pick your words better, bo."
he peeks at bokuto from his peripherals and it seems like bokuto gets it, his entire expression lighting up once more as he laughs joyously. chest puffing out the way it does when bokuto's feeling particularly proud or exuberant. "don't worry, kuroo! you'll know for sure when it's actually meant to be a proposal. it'll be obvious."
he says it like that's obvious, as if a proposal is actually something that will happen in the future. like kuroo shouldn't doubt that it's in the cards. it's a little staggering if he lets himself think of how serious bokuto actually is about them, but kuroo does mirror the sentiment of wanting to grow old together. he just didn't think bokuto would be on the same page. at least, not so soon.
though, they are in their thirties. maybe they've both waited long enough.
kuroo grins, a mixture of sly, teasing and affectionate as he tugs bokuto closer in one quick manoeuvre. his heart beats against his chest as he mutters against bokuto's lips, sealing the deal like a promise, "not if i beat you to it first."
#bokuroo#ephe writes#this came out of nowhere but i was suddenly struck with the thought of older bokuroo#a little mellowed out and nostalgic.... and thinking about the future (and being together in the future)#the 'proposal' just means being together for life but actually said in proper words btw... it doesnt have to mean marriage! but it can!#i originally had angst in my brain but felt i should write something fluffier aha#long post#fics#haikyuu#hq
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@wincestwednesdays | july 24th: sunshine / rock and a hard place
ephelides, a poem by me.
#ephelis (pl. ephelides): "a freckle that is flat and light brown or red and fades with a reduction of sun exposure.â#wincest#wincest wednesday#(#sam winchester#dean winchester's freckles#spn#freckles#codependent wincest#codependency#wincest fest#wincestwednesday#ro writing tag#ro poetry tag#)
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pre-Objects of Affection scene :)
#objects of affection#overmorrow tfs#my art#Iâve been trying to write something but since I hit a bit of a block Iâm just focusing on the art side for now đ
#eph is politeâŠheâd work up the courage to sit the family down and ask for their blessings weeks in advance#(aka my asian ass just canât imagine him /not/ doing that)#he inevitably still has his doubts and worriesâŠbut he was already considered a member of the family long long ago :)#my ocs#xenia oc#fidel oc#hestia oc#charis oc#seeker and finder
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i love u all
#i miss this and if i could go back to this blog in its prime i would#<3#also ephe you rbing an old post as i write this is tweeking me out muah
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solostans am i just psychotic or did anyone else think solomon commanding barbatos to obey was extremely hot
#I KEEP THINKING ABOUT IT#HELP#literally twirling my hair kicking my feet. yeah that's my mentor.#thinking about writing a fic where solo and eph get back to cocytus hall and eph just jumps his bones#''that was so hot. i'm literally in love with you what the fuck.''#obey me!#obey me! solomon#notebook
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So apparently sloths are good swimmers, poop once a week- a third of their weight, can starve on a full stomach, have good defecation habits and can apparently cure cancer..?
#auto correct tried to correct the last one to have cute#...#anyways#am helping (coughdoingand begging him to write)#am helping my brother with his holiday home work and the first question is on sloths#didn't expect the top facts to be about their pooping habits tho#also it was incredibly vague about the cancer point so had to search it up#and apparently some studies think that sloth hair has some bacteria/fungi that could cure cancer#there was a mention of breast xancer specifically#its interesting#check out later#eph#desiblr#siblings#sloths#animals
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thinking about player kingdom hearts today.
you know, its probably because of player that the book of prophecies and MoM's plan didn't come to pass? if it weren't for player, the team couldn't have bought enough time for ventus to seal darkness.
after that, maybe things would have developed as he predicted. the unity broken, by grief if nothing else, the union leaders would have been easy targets for darkness.
but instead, skuld and ephemera went back to save a single life. and player saved them back.
#mint rambles#player kingdom hearts#khux#i love them#also ephemera was written to get the book of prophecies bc luxu saw that eph had it in scala. doesnt really write HOW eph got it tho huh
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no fr patty, bash and taj all had something going on amongst them in Fighter
hrithik playing vague bisexuals, always here for it
worse part is they even shoved him partially back in the closet. he was more bi in War than he was here and yet i bend down to lick up the crumbs and savor what could have been OT4 fix-it fic when
#inbox#q: eph-em-era#film: fighter (2024)#fighter#fighter 2024#hrithik roshan#akshay oberoi#karan singh grover#bollywood#local gay watches Bollywood.txt#local gay watches Fighter (2024) bc fuck it they need some bisexuality on their screen.txt#i need to recover emotionally first before i even think of tackling a drabble. i need to stew in my disappointment and write an email#to Anand pointing out all the ways this could have veered away from the trash bin
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Mine turned out super long because I cut it off where it felt natural and made sense for context D: I wasn't sure whether I should put it under a cut but eventually I figured anyone who's botheredd by long posts had the long post setting on anyway.
(Also, I couldn't reblog every snip on this post because it would overwhelm my blog massively but there are so many super cool ones in the reblogs and in the sipofsnips tag that I love! If you haven't seen them go look, some of these are absolutely amazing (feeling a little embarrassed about my stupid little conversations now). I've just followed probably 10 new people hahaha)
- (Tijil perspective)
Nikora wasâalmost predictably at that pointâmostly undressed on the floor of their room. His nose was bleeding again.
He was conscious and uprightâthoughâand he did not look unwell or in pain, so Tijil found it safe to sayâ "Nikora. Would it be within your abilities to not bleed on our floor in your underwear?"
Nikora looked down as if he had not noticed. This closer alignment to gravityâof courseâaccelerated the flow and increased the volume of blood on the floor, which was the opposite of what Tijil had wanted. He sighed and went to his drawers for his last remaining face cloth.
"Probably not, at this point," Nikora said.
Tijil went to the bathroom and wet the cloth. He wrung it out into the sink and watched the cool water drip backâtoo loudlyâinto the dark metal. He stood there for a brief amount of time longer than he needed to.
He brought the cloth back to their room and gave it to Nikora.
"It would be preferable if you were to refrain from any further bleeding," he said, "as that is my last face cloth."
"I don't own any face cloths," Nikora said, muffled into it. His blood seeped pink around the edges of the damp fabric. This nosebleed was not as bad, or perhaps it had not been going for as long a time.
Tijil did not believe Nikora had heard him correctlyâ and he was not certain why owning face cloths was something that earned such disparaging a tone. He ignored it. "Which is why it would be preferable for this to end now. I would rather not start using shirts."
Nikora laughed and then gurgledâ his head was too far back in the way that sends blood down the throat. Tijil's jaw tensed involuntarilyâunhelpfullyâand he put his hand on the back of Nikora's head and tilted it forward abruptlyâmuch more helpfully.
Nikora tried to snap his head back but Tijil held it still. There was some muttered sound of complaint that Tijil could not parse.
"Please stop trying to choke yourself," Tijil said flatly.
This noise was more resigned.
Daily Sip 1/7
You can reblog this post.
You can make your own post.
You reblog someone else's snip!
Just tag it sipofsnips so everyone can find each other. ^.-
#gltownsend#ephemera#sipofsnips#Also I am not actually a massive em dash user#Itâs really just in this POV#Eph is dual pov Tijil and Nikora#This chapter is Tijil POV who I try to write not really using commas if that makes sense lmao I canât explain why I just canât really see#him pausing that kind of way in his speech or thoughts#and the only real other way to add in asides or breaks are dashes because I donât believe in using brackets in stories except for#extenuating circumstances#Anyway I try to write Tijil POV more mechanically and matter of fact if that makes sense than Nikora#Who is more imagery and commas and things I cannot explain the comma thing LMAO they just feel kind of lyrical to me#Like a comma feels musical when you say it because of the way your tone changes#I donât know omg#I probably sound nuts#nikora#tijil#eph excerpt
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A Doe in Fall (Part 9)
âąHumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall
A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fanâ by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.
Part 1 - Pretty in Red smutđŠ Part 2 - Liar smutđŠ Part 3 - A Tragedy smutđŠ Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smutđŠ Part 7 - Recognition smutđŠ Part 8 - Trust sexual đ„” Part 9 - Shiny Things đ Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smuttyđŠ
Part 9 - Shiny Things
Ephi moves in, and Ruth reads you like an open book.
ăWarnings/Promises: HumanAlastor x Fem! BurlesqueReader, Reference to domestic abuse of non-reader character, fucks, crows, swans, emotions be emotioning, so many birds, I donât think reader is Aromantic I think sheâs just stubborn, Cliff diving is just a joke do not follow people off cliffs, everyone is kicking readerâs ass in some way, my apologies to parts of Texas but not Texas as a wholeă
Long time no see ! My head wasnât in the right space for this story, and my head was also literally not doing well. But! Reading glasses helped since Iâm writing on my phone like 7 inches from my face. the goal is Wednesday updates~ thereâs about four parts already written so weâve got a month of runway đđŒ Wednesday mornings are âGod, Thatâs Goodâ by @macabr3-barbi3 and nights are ADIF!
đ¶ last time on A Doe In Fall đ¶ : you came home from your first week staying officially at Alastorâs to find your estranged sister waiting on your stoop.
this isnât sexy but just like minors come on, MDNI? This blog is a sex shop
Itâs not that you hated your sister, itâs that you resented her. You could love someone and not like them an ounce⊠but unfortunately when she left so did your familial love. Which meant all that held you together now was distrust and an obligation to a dead woman.Â
âSo things didnât pan out up north?â You waved her into your apartment, agitation apparent in even the gesture of your arm.Â
âItâs peachy! Just need to lay low a bit.â She said it with a chipper voice while looking around your apartment like she paid for it. âWow you werenât lying about the no money, huh? Talk about a shoebox.â
Charming.Â
âWell, Ephi, youâre welcome to leave.â While you didnât understand the name it wasnât your business to question what someone asked to be called. Especially considering your own dual identity. You may have disliked the woman but human decency still hung to the bones of the relationship you called your sisterhood.
An obnoxious chuckle, âNah itâll do! Just the one single bed?â
âWhy would I have more than one bed?â
A deep sigh from her, âStill last to be picked by the fellas, sis?â Her hand passed over your dresses hanging in the open closet, âThe ugly duckling was always your favorite story.â
The fine hairs rose on the back of your neck, a catâs hackles moving as the anger bristled through your body. You opened your mouth to shout all the ways you were not the ugly one in the room, hand already in the air to direct her attention to the dried, hanging flowers covering the far wall. How many people threw flowers at her feet? How many proposals were shouted to her? Wedding rings slipped off fingers and into pockets for her?Â
The air in your lungs went flat as a small fire of embarrassment rose in your gut.
How could she so quickly reduce you to a little girl again? Taking the bait for a fight you couldnât win, because she wasnât listening to anything but her own voice. Biting the inside of your cheek, your hand fell back to your side.
âYou can take it. Iâll just be by for clothes now and then. Been staying with a friend closer to work.â Flipping through your mind you tried to catalog your valuables. What did you absolutely need to not turn up missing?
Ephi sat on the bed and crossed her legs in her best imitation of a lady. âStaying with Mister Fancy Pants?â A smile that reminded you of your childhood. A smile that said, âI wonât tell mom!â Right before turning and running to your motherâs ear.
âNo.âÂ
A giggle two octaves above her usual tone, âSure, okay! No skin off my back.â
You took your time to gather the items you had forgotten first, then the items you didnât want her to have. Unsure how exactly to tell Alastor why a week into sharing his home officially you were already redecorating, you left that for your future self to figure out. The first item was obvious.
An angel statue your mother kept on her nightstand. You wrapped it in some newspaper, trying not to look in her direction.Â
Your sister chased dick like most people chased liberty. Something she shared with your mother. Which was her right, but it rubbed you the wrong way how she would always forget everyone else in her life when she had a man to call her own. A fair weather friend, at that.Â
âHowâs Howard?â The dick that took her away so many years ago.
She abandoned the lady act and rummaged through your cabinets, âWhoâs that?â
Right.
A gold coin on a necklace. You slipped it inside a sock.Â
âSo, then, who is the man of the hour?â
Ephi began opening the dresser drawers, poking here and there. âWhaddya mean! I am an independent woman.â
You werenât sure that had ever been true. While your mother had drilled it into your skull to never place yourself in the need of a man, she always seemed to throw her heart (and house keys and purse stringsâŠ) at the feet of any man willing to love her.Â
âLoveâ her.Â
There was no love in any of that. A common problem of confusing love with any and all intense emotions affected your mother and many others.
Slashed furniture is not adoration. Breaking windows is not a love language. Bruises are not affection.
Your hands ran down the bagâs shapeless sides. Without thinking, you smiled. Adoration. Love languages. Affection. You had them and the knowledge of their secrets all to yourself.Â
Secrets you didnât need slipping out. Secrets your sister couldnât hold to save her life, or yours for that matter. You hurried around the room grabbing knick-knacks and photos and jewelry. Alastor would be at work soon, you wondered if you should call to warn him. This time not about a hot headed flatfoot but a nosey sibling.
Youâd tell him later. No reason to talk to Brenda again. Quickly your leather bag got full and heavy. What was supposed to be a casual foray into sharing a home already turning into a full on move.Â
Everything you needed and a few things no one ever would, because damn would Ephi pawn them the very second she needed something, were safely zipped away. Any plans to relax at home before work were abandoned and you just marched to the door.Â
A random memory flashed behind your eyes, washing Alastorâs hair in the tub until the water ran clear. Why now? The only memory shared in your apartment. And it was an awful one. But, it had Alastor. That gave it value.Â
âHey, if any men come by looking for me you just donât answer, okay?â You forced your face to relax, to show the sincerity you worked so hard to keep to yourself, âPlease, Ephi.â
Her smile widened past unnaturally white teeth, no money for a room but clearly cash for peroxide tooth gel, âOoh, why? Little sister make some enemies?â
Why couldnât she just fucking agree?
âMy job sometimes attracts crazies. I donât tell them where I live but occasionally they figure it out. Theyâve gotten violent before soâŠjust donât answer the buzzer. Theyâll say theyâre damn near anyone to get you to let them up.â You stopped the nervous twisting of your bagâs handle, âBoyfriend, boss, detective. They've tried it all.â
âAww, sis. Look at you.â She leaned her full figure against the open door frame, arm raised up like a pin up. Ephi was always effortlessly enchanting when her mouth was closed. âStalkers? Mama would be so proud. Finally learning how to catch a manâs attention.â
The tears that stung your eyes were inspired partly by anger and partly by pain. They came so suddenly you could only laugh in response.Â
âLovely to see your new name hasnât changed you, Ephi. Iâll be back occasionally. Donât steal anything, no strangers over. Spare key is in the bowl by the door.âÂ
âOh hey!âÂ
You turned back.
âI do need some cash. Until I find work.â
The numbness blanketed you with a chill.Â
âIâve got like, three bucks. Is that fine?â
Why did you ask that? You knew she could very well say it wasnât fine and youâd be obligated to offer to get more. Atleast, thatâs what youâd have done when you were younger. How easily you both slipped into old roles. Or perhaps she never grew out of hers.Â
She mulled it over, âYeah thatâll be fine.â Her hand came out and waited for the bills.
An open palm waiting for your money.
You pulled the folded bills from your wallet and set them in her hand without touching her skin.Â
âThanks sis!â She turned and closed the door before you could reply.
⊠. ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă . âŠ
The other dancers shot you a look when your bag jingled and clanked as it hit the floor, you wincing as you remembered the ceramic figurine.
âYouâŠ. going somewhere, hun? The detective got you on something?â
A quick shake of your head. You hadnât considered the optics. Luckily it was early enough the room wasnât very busy. A few select missing women would have pried for more information. Your hands fidgeted, unsure what to do. On the way in you saw some newer talent getting their feet on stage, maybe watch them? Too early for make up.Â
A loving voice from Ruth, always a savior, âCigarette?â
You melted at the offer. Alastor wasnât a fan of the smell so you were slyly cutting back.Â
She popped a sun bleached folding chair open and set it in between you both as a footrest. So many broken and ruined chairs littered the sides of the dingy roof, you were shocked she found a good one on her first try.
âAlright, tell me what happened with that detective. Do I need to go rough up a city employee?â Ruth leaned back and settled into her chair with a creak and a whine of the wood.
You needed a second, eyes flitting around as she handed her cigarette for you to take a drag. What could you say? What did she already know? Youâd not spoken about it since she helped shoo him away but the appearance of half your belongings haphazardly stuffed into a bag clearly had her alarms going off.Â
âSo remember the guy who came by for me? Tall handsome one.â
She nodded enthusiastically, âYes! Of course. Donât forget a name like his. Or face.â She whistled like a crude man trying to get a womanâs attention in the most annoying way.
âThe detective thinks he did something to Tommy. That he was jealous. Which is ridiculous-,â you felt a nervous energy slip down your arms.Â
An abrupt laugh, âThat string bean couldnât open a heavy window. He didnât do shit to Tommy. What a stupid thing to say.â
Did she notice how much youâd been holding your breath? A deep sigh as you let it go. âExactly! He doesnât even know about what happened that night with that guy and Tommyâs arrangement; itâs too mortifying. Anyway, the detective has been hounding me about it. I donât wanna cause trouble.â You ashed the cigarette and held it out for her, âStuff is still new with him and me, so I didnât tell the detective his details or work anything. Why would I? So he can harass him too?â The words all tumbled out so quickly. A faucet turned too far to the left.
âFair.â A few passes back and forth in what you hoped was a comfortable silence and not an indication she was piecing together things you needed to remain unlinked. Finally, âDidnât realize you two were still seeing each other. Longest one youâve kept for awhile now.â
Looking up, you marveled at the view of the open sky. Not a cloud in sight. A smile crept across your face, the heat of the sun warming you from the inside out. The slightest chill to the air warning you of Fall. âYeah.â
She asked what made him so special and you didnât know where to start. âThe obvious,â you began. âHeâs so-,â
âClever.â âHandsome.â
Youâd spoken at the same time, her attempt at soothsaying failing miserably.
âClever, Ruth. Heâs very clever. Handsome men are a dime a dozen. But heâs sharp as a tack.â She rolled her eyes and waved her hand around for you to go on. You let your mind toss out the shiniest examples. âHeâs so skilled. He knows how to hunt and take apart animals. He can fish. Cooks like a dream. He knows how to clean clothes well and how to use a washing board.âÂ
âUseful.â She mused. That isnât what you meant. You werenât trying to list off his features like a new appliance. It was justâ impressive. He was well rounded.
âAnd heâs terribly kind. Heâs always,â how to say it delicately, âgoing out of his way to help others solve their problems.â That seemed accurate and vague enough. You chuckled to yourself, remembering him at the kitchen table, âHis face lights up so bright when heâs talking about his hobbies. Like, I can see his soul glittering behind his eyes and suddenly Iâm just as interested in whatever heâs talking about as he is.â You let your eyes close around the mental image of his surprised face every time you complimented him. But they shot open when she began giggling, âWhat?â
âYouâre in looooove,â her foot kicked yours, âI know that look. Head over heels already. Talking about him like he made the fucking stars.â
Wide eyed and stunned, was it written on your face so plainly? âOh donât say that. It makes me so uncomfortable. Weâre just enjoying each other's company.â When she moved to give you the cigarette again you didnât take it. âAll I was saying wasâ,â fuck, what were you saying? That he was special? âHeâs a very nice person to spend my limited time with. Itâs a finite resource and all.â
With a shrug she took another puff, âWhatâs to be uncomfortable about? Falling in love is a wonderful thing, hun.â
Was it? Honestly, had she ever considered how much damage came with loving someone? It was putting your heart outside your body. Letting someone else carry it around and just praying they didnât hurt you, or get hurt, or go off and die and take your heart with them. Why would anyone willingly do such a silly thing?
âCheesy. And kind of creepy. Falling? How do I get back up if things go south?â
Youâd successfully avoided emotional attachment to nearly every lover youâd taken. The way women seemed to get struck down dumb by any old John or Jane just wasnât appealing. Love was for fools. The weak. The dependent.
Or, so you had whispered to yourself as you pretended to not be home when suitors came knocking, as you avoided ringing phones, as you apologized and slid out of restaurant seats after awkward dinners.Â
âIf you fall hard enough, you donât get back up.â She said it like it was a good thing. âYouâll love them forever, even if you hate em.â
That was the problem, too. How could she not hear that as she said it? All loss of control of your own heart and emotions was simply bad. People do irrational things for love.
You shivered, âThat sounds absolutely horrid, Ruth.â
âAah,â she dismissed you with a raspberry blown between her lips, âFor the right man, youâll find yourself enjoying the trip down!âÂ
âNah, Iâm not fan of heights. No dick is worth that.â
âIs that all men are to you? Sex?â She guffawed, taken aback by your comment. Which was odd, given it was Ruth.Â
But, Yes.
Well. No . But â he wasn't a man. He was something different. The exception to the rule. Alastor was different.
Or, fine.Â
Yes, he was a man.Â
No, you didnât see them as just sex. It was easier to say people were just pleasure and not stop to think about life any other way. Things got complicated when you added another person. Life became sloppy and uncontainable. If you stopped and considered the lives behind the people you used to lead on and let go before things got too difficult, youâd just wound yourself. It was easier to stop at sex.
When you could. Which you could, before. When sex was a token you traded back and forth with someone. But Alastor didnât accept that currency. You couldnât hand him your body and get brief but lovely companionship back. Your value had to lie elsewhere, the things you set before him and the wonders he had to offer were much richer in their worth than what youâd ever had before.Â
Sometimes it felt like you slid him a penny and he handed you a quarter. You found yourself scrounging up the petty coins of your worth and trying to save them up for him. Practicing your makeup, learning how he liked his coffee, remembering all of the things he said he hated and loved. Attempting to stop smoking. Every act was another shiny offering for him.Â
A crow scrounging the park grounds for glittering trash. Not very swan-like, you thought.
âYou really donât think youâre falling for him?â Ruth put out the cigarette in the coffee can beside her. As you turned to argue with her you saw her face full of amusement and incredulousness. It was rhetorical.
The argument withered and you could only pout, everyone that day seeming to catch your tongue, âI donât wanna think about it. Iâll get scared and run away. Heâll figure out how little I have to give eventually. If anything more is gonna happen, itâll happen. Iâll just⊠let it. Why ruin it with⊠saying childish things.â
âYouâre naive but thatâs okay. Enjoy the honeymoon stage while you can.â
Your eyes rolled, âWhat if he doesnât feel the same? Why embarrass myself.â When you sighed the weight of just how heavy and true that sentiment was resonated in your stomach. Telling him you were falling in love? Alastor was a killer. His passion was singular. What good was a dame to him? No, worse than worthless. A liability. A witness. A weak point in the walls he so carefully crafted. If he knew you were in love with him heâd just end things sooner than they would have naturally.
âDontcha wanna know if heâs a waste of that precious time, then?â
You cackled, choking on your spit. Alastor? He was the most worthwhile thing youâd ever encountered. Time with him suddenly had âŠ. Value. That fucking word again. But time with him, it was slow enough to be deep and rich, but so fleeting you already felt a mourning mood for how much closer you were to the end.
You could only shake your head, âWait, Ruth, didnât you get divorced?â
âShhh that doesnât count!â She rose and stretched her long arms up to the sun and then out to the horizon, âPlus thatâs how I know what Iâm talking about! After the honeymoon phase? Youâll be arguing about laundry and wishing you were strangers again. Fighting about children and lawncare.â
As your finger nervously came to your mouth, teeth cutting into the nail, you considered how if Alastor complained about laundry and you could argue back with the comfort of knowing neither would simply leave, thatâd beâŠ.nice. The safety of being honest without the fear of the other person giving up on you. Was that love?Â
And did that matter at all?Â
Youâd thought earlier you knew the answers but now, when someone else said it, you got scared of those words.Â
Ruth must have put a spell on you. As you and a bevy of others danced in line on stage, arms over shoulders and legs kicking high enough to show cheek and jiggle the soft skin of your thighs and stomach, you felt butterflies in your gut. Alastor would be picking you up in a matter of hours.Â
A few men sent you drinks, which you repaid with a wink and a kiss blown across the bar before downing the liquor. It was the usual routine. You hadnât felt nerves to see Alastor quite like that since sheepishly picking out âcomfortableâ shoes.
Alastorâs eyes widened when he took the bag from you, not noticing your attempts to avoid making eye contact. He let out a chuckle, his best attempt at stifling the joking question, âAlready moving in?â
He realized quickly enough that wasnât a good joke. Not when he finally looked up and saw your stare was distant.Â
âEverything okay, dear?â He walked to open your door for you, and you nodded a thank you and an affirmative.
Should you rip off the band aid? Should you just say it and see what happens?Â
When you turned to look at him and blurt out a confession, you were stopped by the profile of his face. What a gentle face. A lovely jaw. Even his bones were better than other peopleâs. What were you doing in this manâs car? What little pieces of glittering trash were you about to toss at him on a random Friday night?
No, in the books you read, confessions were always grande affairs. Fireworks and dinner parties and passionate kisses in rain storms.
Youâd have to put a little effort into this. His brows rose as he clocked your staring. Eyes on the road, smirk pulled to the right, his hand came to rest on your thigh.
He deserved something much better than whatever you had to offer. Something unlike yourself entirely.Â
The drive home, and yes you let yourself linger on the word instead of shoo it away, you watched a deer jump across the dirt road just past the bridge.Â
âThe bucks chase the does. Itâs part of their mating ritual. I guess itâs not unlike the âplaying hard to getâ some women like. The longer the chase, the prouder the buck to snag his prize.â
You laughed, âWomen donât like it, I donât think. Well, some do I am sure but⊠If we donât do that then people think weâre easy. We need plausible deniability. If people learn we put out we can claim we didnât really want to and save some face.â
Alastor grimaced, âGross.â
Unseen, you nodded and turned to watch the buck leap after its doe.Â
âKind of funny, you chased me down, didnât you?â Alastorâs comment pulled you back to him.
âOh yes. That makes you my doe.â Your arm came to rest against the car door, the trees slowly rolling by in the darkness. âReminds me of the small freckles across your shoulders.â
âMy mighty buck!â He fawned, in jest, pretending to collapse into your lap. You shoved him back up and behind the wheel proper. âWell given the chance, Iâd chase you for miles.â His hand flexed on your leg.
âTo Texas?â You asked. Your usual end point.
âFurther.â
âHow far?â
âThere is no limit. Iâd ⊠run right off a cliff, head first, if you were waiting at the bottom.â He took his hand back, needing both to hold the wheel. What he said hit him harder than he had intended. Was it too much? A tad too dramatic? A nervous clearing of his throat, followed by an awkward laugh to put more space between him and the confession.Â
The idea of you making Alastor chase you was ridiculous. You enjoyed the games you played with others, but you were never meant to be caught. If you wanted that, youâd justâŠgive yourself. As you had done with him. Only him. The first and last person you ever wanted to give yourself over to in any sense. âAnd if I just⊠lied down and let you catch me? Would that make me a poorly earned prize?â
âNope! Thatâd make me a lucky duck. And make you quite smart, if I do say so myself.â A wink. âWhy run from such a catch like me?â
You landed a smack on his arm, light and playful.Â
A truly comfortable silence settled in, just the sound of the car trembling over the rough road. The newest model Ford was still as loud as the last, but luckily you were far from others.Â
The words had lingered like smoke, and you felt the need to address them. Â
âDonât actually do that though. If I run off a cliff or something stupid, donât you dare follow me.â
Alastor just laughed, wasnât that what you were doing for him already? Diving into hell for some inexplicable reason after Alastor. He wasnât expressing some lack of self preservation, he was merely letting you know heâd reciprocate the fall. You hadnât made him run after you, but instead seemed to justâŠ.rest your neck between his canines. And trust.Â
If you were to go to heaven, he wasnât sure what heâd do. It was too late to redeem his soul now. How far was heaven from hell, anyways? If the devil survived the plummet perhaps he could scale the walls of his enclosure and breach the gates.
Though, as he thought about the idea of heaven, he considered how happy his mother would be to meet you. To take you from her would be as cruel as heaven taking you from him.Â
Maybe he could make a plea. To just be able to see you from below.Â
But if the knowledge you were happy and safe was all he had, heâd be a richer man in hell than heâd ever been on earth. Itâd be enough.Â
Heâd just need to broadcast his radio waves a little further for your listening pleasure.
â
Ëââ§ àŹłâMasterlist.àłàż*:
Ë Ęđ„.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.đ„ Ę Ë
@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx
@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98
, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,
@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies
@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @fizzled-phoenix , @star-kujo-platinum
, @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000
@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain
@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,
@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby
@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fanfiction#human alastor x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin alastor#alastor#alastor x reader smut#alastor smut#fanfiction#hazbin alastor x reader#alastor fanfiction#alastor x you#hazbin hotel x you
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I forgot to post about it here, but earlier this week Eph posted on her instagram story and said she is writing for PH again, and that she and Soph are planning for the new season! I AM SO HAPPY. Soph might not be able to draw yet and is still recovering, but Eph's announcement is such great news. There's finally a light at the end of this long tunnel guys
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"hey, are those my sweats?"
the pixels of bokuto's face fizzle clearly to life on screen, his eyes squinted and inquisitive. kuroo pulls his phone closer from where he'd had it propped up against his water bottle, letting bokuto in to a close-up view of his slight smirk.
"you clothes thief!" the accusation comes after barely a second, and kuroo chortles.
"why, don't like seeing me in your clothes?" he says, smirk growing wider at the feeling of triumph in his chest. he's been quick with his retorts today, managing to stun even tsukki into silence when he popped by the joint karasuno-nekoma training camp earlier. victory tastes especially sweet when it's against tsukishima, but bokuto is a close second contender.
it's quiet for a moment, a moment that stretches a little long and prompts kuroo to focus back on the call. he's puzzled by the strangeness he sees in bokuto's gaze, visible even through the video feed.
"bo?"
"... if you're gonna steal, put your whole back into it, kuroo. wear one of my hoodies too next time."
oh.
huh?
"uh... kuroo?" bokuto's voice trickles in again, "hey... your video just cut off?"
"oh. oh, yeah, i think my connection's not too good over here, hahaâ"
"wait a minute! are you... are you flustered? did i fluster you?"
"no! also why do you sound so pleased?"
kuroo pointedly ignores the way his ears burn, the same way he ignores toggling his video back on.
âââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
two days later, kuroo schedules another visit to the training camp, and gets promptly obliterated by tsukishima asking "why do you smell like bokuto-san all over?"
kuroo curses bokuto in his mind even as his face heats up, remembering the way he'd pulled on another pair of bokuto's slacks and one of bokuto's many hoodies. the memory of bokuto wrapping his strong arms around him and nosing at his neck, muttering things like "you smell good" and "you look good in my stuff" into his ear.
kuroo catches kenma's withering, judgmental stare and ends up almost disintegrating on the spot.
#bokuroo#haikyuu#hq#yeah this was inspired by yesterday's official artâ and yes i'm going with 'that was bokuto's slacks he was wearing'#honestly this idea came to me right as i was going to sleep last night#i just wanted kuroo being smug and being one upped by bokuto ngl#ephe writes#fics#long post
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The Adventures Of Joe Superfly
I haven't been able to work on Chicken Salad War much recently -- it's less writer's block and more a confluence of issues that mean when I have the time I'm too tired for something novel-sized. It's temporary, but when I don't get to write I do start to get restless.
So the other night as I was doing dishes I circled around to a small issue that keeps nipping at me, which is Ephraim. He's got the most normal name of any of the Ramblers, which is uncharacteristic of Ceece and Tully. Well, I thought, maybe they let Eddie name him, but why would they let Eddie, the oldest, name the youngest, and not the THREE OTHERS inbetween? And why would Eddie pick Ephraim?
I decided to do up a little story about Eph, how he came by his name and what his life experiences have been. Much of it's a spoiler that needs a content warning but I figured I'd share a brief fun scene. Also it's good practice for writing Eph's somewhat elliptical style of speech; he is a man who gives no unnecessary context, and sometimes no necessary context. (All the context you all need to know is that Ephraim's parents wanted to name him Cherry Windward and instead Eddie named him Ephraim Prunus.)
Noah was on dishes duty with Joan, Ed's newly adopted eldest daughter, the evening that Ephraim found Ed on the porch of the royal fishing lodge. He sat next to him companionably, rocking on the porch swing and looking out at the lake.
"How many different names do you think you'll have in your life?" he asked without preamble. Ed laughed.
"I don't know. I think once you become a king the name locks in place," he said. "I've been Theophile and Ted and Ed and Eddie, and now back around to Theophile, at least in public. And then there's 'Dad' too. Why do you ask?"
Ephraim shrugged. "Monday was telling Jes about you naming me. Got to thinking about it."
"Well, you did return the favor eventually," Ed said. "Ed has suited me. Thinking of changing your name?"
"I was thinking of going by Prunus," Ephraim said, with such a deadpan expression that Ed hesitated, then burst out laughing when Eph smiled.
"Punk," he said, shoving Ephraim gently. "I only gave you that one to make mom and dad feel better about you having a normal-ass name. Man, you could see Dad's gears turning. We can always call him Pru."
Ephraim cackled. "Pru! Funny. I guess justâŠthanks."
"For what, big guy?" Ed asked.
"I didn't think I'd ever see Europe. Didn't think anyone outside Santa Luna would understand," Ephraim said. "But you went all over the world and found somewhere just like home. And I get to be here too. Which means maybeâŠI can be other places as well."
"There will always be a place for you, anywhere I am," Ed said seriously.
"Yes but also. They get it." Ephraim put on a lilting Shivadh accent. "That's Ephraim, he's King Theophile's brother, he doesn't say much but he's a good lad. No, you let Mr. Rambler alone, he's just shy. Hello young Ephraim, point out what you want to order when you're ready." He looked back out at the lake. "They're kind. I could thrive here."
"But not just yet, huh?" Ed asked. "Not with Noah leaving soon. He's going to Aotearoa and then coming to California, where you'll be."
"Yes."
"And after he graduates?" Ed asked delicately. "Maybe both of you back here?"
Ephraim turned to him. "I don't have a five year plan," he said witheringly, and this time Ed knew he was teasing.
"You son of a -- how dare you accuse me of asking you for a five year plan! Like I'm some kind of responsible adult? Roasted by my own blood!"
"You need it, Your Majesty," Ephraim said, then sobered. "I don't know yet. We'll figure it out."
"I'm sure you will."
"If you were going to name me again, what would you pick?"
Ed tousled his hair. "Buddy, you are now and forever Ephraim to me unless someday you tell me otherwise. I can't name you again. I don't think you need it, you're only just growing into that one. But if you did want a new name, I think you'd have to come up with it yourself -- or ask Noah."
Ephraim nodded thoughtfully. "I'm okay. Just curious."
"I think if you do you should move even more towards the extremes, though. From Cherry Windward to Ephraim Prunus to, I dunno, Joe Superfly."
"Joe Superfly!" Ephraim crowed. "Joe Superfly Rambler!"
"The twins should be glad we named them Edward and Miranda," Ed mused.
"Edward Superfly," Ephraim gasped.
"It's a great movie!"
"Miranda Shaft!" Ephraim blurted, and both brothers laughed until they cried.
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speaking of Charis actually, [3rd fic in the Overmorrow series that doesnât have a name yet] has like an entire page, probably more, dedicated to Ephemer being disgustingly in love with her. And thatâs just in his own thoughts, not even taking the rest of the fic (10k words or so, weâll see) into account. Iâm truly standing in the depths of my own gooberization now.âŠ
so yeah thatâs how thatâs going âșïž
#roadie rambles#overmorrow tfs#a union without unions#I was put on this earth to do 2 things: make ephy sad and make ephy happy#overmorrow is such a character-driven storyâŠI think Iâm also just a character-driven writer in general#what is plot. what is external conflict. in my brain there are only FEELINGS#good news is that unlike objects of affection other characters will be present this time around!#I love writing eph with charis but itâs nice to be able to give him some other interactions again#also uh#donât mind that Iâm posting this at 3am either. donât worry about it#my fic planning brain is a mess rn and rambling to myself helps#I will sleep tonight I prommy#overmorrow misc
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My boy. The handsome. Staring thoughtfully into the golden morning. <3
Thinking of what's been and will never be again
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iâm thinking thinking how like⊠itâs sad how so little information about daybreak town, the foretellers, the keyblade war, and the dandelions has survived to this day. itâs probably bc there were just so few people left immediately following daybreakâs destruction who wouldâve possibly known anything that could be passed on. i mean ephemer basically had to take care of refounding a society and passing on precepts singlehandedly
and like while it could just be that a lot of historical information was lost over the generations in scala, i also feel like when the entire society basically worships ephemer, theyâre gonna take good care to keep tabs on everything he says and writes. so did he just not say a lot? was he uncomfortable with going into detail about the truth of the war and daybreakâs destruction? the friends he once knew? was he trying to bury his pain and let his memories be lost to history?
point is like there should be an easy way for ventus, skuld (if she is subject x), lauriam and elrena (if she doesnât already know lol) to remember who they are. like it should be as simple as finding some historical records somewhere. but either ephemer like took his painful secrets and memories to his grave, the worlds are so scattered and broken up that that information simply isnât present anymore. either that or a whole lot of modern-day people are gatekeeping the knowledge from others for dubious purposes (like xemnas, xigbar, possibly eraqus himself)
plus, itâs not entirely just ephemer who wouldâve known things. brain shows up a few centuries later with information from the age of fairytales fresh in his mind since no time has passed for him. and luxu of course has surely been hanging around the entire time, but iâm guessing wouldnât want to share much information with anyone on purpose
however, there is surviving information in the modern day about the age of fairytales that almost certainly couldâve only come from luxu. such as the lost masters allegedly having crossed over into unreality (<- what yen sid says in melody of memory) or the concept of the âtrue darknessesâ that overtook them (<- what odin says to vidar) ephemer might have figured out the concept of âtrue darknessâ based on the ending of ux but he wouldnât have been able to determine anything about the numbers, nor would he know that thatâs what happened to the foretellers.
so! luxu might have told all that stuff to someone himself in scala (including eph himself) or he mightâve told brain back in daybreak town. but for sure he played a hand in passing down select relevant information. but not all of it. quite interesting
#just kinda rambling here. isnât it interesting#eph do you need grief counseling. âluxu whatchu cooking#kingdom hearts#khux#khml#khdr#mine: kh
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