meidnightrain

[meidnightrain]

help i am not active here but like thank you for a hundred 😭😭😭

[meidnightrain]

TANGERINE MORNING LIGHT

featuring aventurine. no particular tw. fluffy of sorts. inspired by that official art of him in his pyjamas.

———

“alright, i understand. let’s schedule the interview for today.” his voice was the first thing that you registered in the morning. aventurine is disheveled; his usually precariously combed hair is now tousled with odd ends sticking out in places, and only a single button on his pajama top holds his shirt together. you can see the slight ridge of his abs when AVENTURINE shifted to turn around, the phone over his ear, and an annoyed expression on his face.

he is gorgeous in the morning sunlight; he glimmers like gold-spun silk, and you can’t help but admire him in silence, laying by your side as you stare at every inch of him. you’ve long known him, seen the pieces of him laid bare, and seen the gears that make him tick.

“how long have you been staring?” you’re broken out of your thoughts; he’s facing you now with a small smirk on his face that makes you want to punch him. you’re practically breathing each other’s air with how close you both are, and you can’t help but curse at him silently for making you feel this way even after dating for so long. you always melted into his touch without a fight; you’re not sure if that was his intention or if you were so infatuated with him that it made you like that.

“i could have stared longer.” you narrowed your eyes at him, a pout beginning to form on your lips. “i was daydreaming.”

he’s slightly amused by your response, one of his delicately raised eyebrows arching perfectly. he was perfect; every bit of him was there anyway. “and what were you daydreaming about?”

“you not going for that meeting and sleeping in with me?” you offered with a cheeky wink, booping him on the nose with your finger. that caught AVENTURINE off-guard while he processed your words before he returned a smug expression, and you can feel his body press into yours. you’d love to think he’ll never forget about what would happen if it all fell down and crumbled into ashes. you’ll both have to pay the price if it all fails, but that's something to worry about another day.

you’re half asleep this early in the morning. it's somewhat of a luxury to take your time in the tangerine, neon light that is the sunlight bringing along the morning. he was busy with work, busy gambling everything he had to spend his tomorrow with you. he’s not saying he’s in love with you yet. it's those three words, three syllables, and eight letters that rolled off his tongue all this while, but he’s going to.

but he’s awake, and he’s going to take his chance with you, snuggling closer to you as he breathes in the scent of the skin of your neck. “we have a few hours.” he is warm, and the irises of his eyes are so hypnotizing and alluring that you fall under his spell.

he knows this is a big mistake to let you in like this—to show vulnerability and yearning for affection. to indulge himself in your touch and comfort over and over again, like how an alcoholic would always turn back to soulglad religiously without fail. if he was going to be drunk, he’d rather be drunk in your love.

“and what happens?” your eyes are closed, and you fit perfectly into the space that is the crook of his neck. “if this blows up in your pretty face, my dear gambler?”

you’re not saying for him to do it anyway, to take this risk even if it would reap high rewards, because rarely was there ever a chance that high gambles would be effortless to pull off. but you knew, that AVENTURINE was going to get the thrill of betting everything he had, which drove him to such lengths.

“when was i ever one to back down from a bet?” stray strands of his blonde hair tickled the top of your head, like feathers brushing across skin. what would you say if he told you that all he needed was you?

you’ll wait then for him to say that he loved you. three words, three syllables, eight letters, and all the time in the world.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

© MEIDNIGHTRAIN 2025. COPYING, PLAGIARISING NOT ALLOWED

[meidnightrain]

🎵 Blow out all the candles, blow out all the candles, you're too old to be so shy..🎵 Your fic is so good <3

YIPPPEEE THANK YOU ANON AAAAAAA

[meidnightrain]

BLOW OUT THE CANDLES

featuring aventurine. spoilers for his backstory. tw kinda angsty but it gets better at the end. happy birth month to my fav traumatised blonde boy.

———

his eyes are wide, like he has stumbled upon a crime scene, his heart fluttering in his chest, and his mouth agape. AVENTURINE is wide-eyed, and so are you. the silence hangs in the air like stars that hang from the ceiling that was the sky.

the flames are, oh, too familiar to him; he’s seen them before in his dreams. perhaps he’d call it a nightmare, but you could always wake up from bad dreams, couldn’t you? the fire of the candles flickering slowly in the dim room, reminiscent of the flames that had danced across the decorations and tents of the kakava festival that fell on the same day. he can feel the heat crawling up his skin and the blood lapping at his cheeks.

his bones are brittle, weak, and frail, like his self-worth. they do not hold him up, they cannot cage the overwhelming sensation that sets him alight; he cannot discern what it is. he bites his tongue; he does not utter a word; he does not move; his eyes are frozen on you and only you.

he waits for the little voice in his head to speak, but it does not show. it does not degrade him, it does not whisper lies, and it does not drag him down into the abyss that is his heart. his mind was built upon thoughts and secrecy, of calculations of risks and rewards. you could destroy the very foundation of your home and tear it apart brick by brick. he carries the bricks of his past, and eventually he builds the same house that he is running from.

the candles are like a torch; they burn his dreams and him; he’s a patchwork of scars, a bunch of memories too painful for him to resurface from the sands that AVENTURINE had choked on as a child. back when life was about survival.

perhaps in another life, the only thing he would be scared of on his birthday would be a wolf in a mask with his name on a birthday card. he would be scared of growing old and leaving behind his childhood. he would be scared of monsters under his bed that would tickle his toes. in another life, not this one.

“happy birthday, kakavasha.”

three words leave your mouth; your voice is sweet like a nightingale and soothing like water. it douses him; the fire is extinguished, and he exhales as if he had been holding his breath. he does not breathe the smoke, he does not hear the screams, his hands are not painted red, and the crisscross of scratches on his body are nonexistent. his eyes, the glow slightly in the dim light, he would do whatever you told him to do in the dark.

out of the hum of the sands and into a forest, a garden meant for only the both of you to stumble upon. if a flower had bloomed when you crossed his mind, he would have had a field of flowers by now. you smile, a genuine beam that means no ill-will. a smile that holds hope and beginning, a smile that is warm and comforting, and a smile that is sweet like candy and roses.

the ringing in his ears stops, so do the fire and the war. he is now seven years old. as the avgin celebrates the festivities with joy, they dance and sing. some part of him is gleeful to know that it is his birthday and the festival is held only on that day. secretly, he thinks they are celebrating his birth. his sister laughs, her calloused palm stroking his head.

“happy birthday, KAKAVASHA.” his sister sings with a smile that doesn’t quite match the dying spark in her gaze. it was a day that would be celebrated, for it was the day he had been brought into this world.

your eyes hold light that his own does not, they have faded long ago. your hands are steady as they hold the cake, the candles illuminating the dim room. he can feel his heart beating so loudly that it echoes in the quiet room. “make a wish, any wish. anything and i’ll make it come true if i can.”

he wishes that he could be your lover. he only brought the heat; his company filled space in your sheets. funny, you are lovers so why was he wishing for something that already came true? so he wishes that he would be someone deserving enough to be loved by you. it’s his heart that is confusing his mind, unsure of what to do, so his left hand shakes. the palm that would have touched his sister's, her hand against his as they whispered a prayer to the mother goddess.

“you’re too old to be so shy.” you tease him lightly at the way he hesitates to make a move, eyeing the cake warily. his hand slips into the back pocket of his pants, and he looks up at you. he counts to three and blows the candles swiftly, his brow wrinkled.

things cannot be reversed, he realises to himself. he learns from all the times that he has been cursed; his blessing and his luck are his curse. to win over and over again, to wait for luck to run out, time is unforgiving, and it does not bring the closure AVENTURINE seeks; it does not give him the outcome he desires secretly.

he learns from the ones he fears the most, vipers with mouths full of venom. he is paralysed, and he cannot do anything but let the beast do as it pleases. his skin crawls, and he longs to cry out, but he bites his cheek. he tastes the iron taste that is blood in his mouth.

he learns from the ones he hates the most, from the people who’ve made him the way he is. the burn on his neck throbbed at the thought, the fog that engulfed his mind, and the sound of chains rattling across the stone floor. that it’s all or nothing, so he chooses to bet it all in hopes that luck runs out.

the cake is set down on the table, and the flames are now gone. all that’s left is your curious gaze, the tilt of your head, and the uplifting tone of your voice that draws his attention to you.

“what did you wish for?”

“you.” he murmurs lowly, crossing the distance and locking you in his arms. he buries your face in his chest holding you so tight till you can’t breathe, but you do not struggle. you notice the tremor in his shoulders and the vulnerability of him seeking your touch like this.

so you oblige, and you stay the night.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

© MEIDNIGHTRAIN 2025. COPYING, PLAGIARISING NOT ALLOWED

[meidnightrain]

omg did i ever mention i absolutely LOVE your theme its so pretty omfg aahahshdhshshdhsh

SKYLIASKYLIASKYLIA HULLOOOO AND THANK YOU I LOVE YOURS TOO GRGRGRGR THE PURPLE IS SO NICE TO LOOK AT

[meidnightrain]

your username is familiar

man i wonder why. also why is the ask box so funny the update is so bad ngl. also hello anon

[meidnightrain]

COLORS

featuring boothill. no particular tw. not proofread or edited. took some inspiration from his lightcone + character story.

———

he whirs to life, and his system gears up for another day. he is synthetic, his torso a bleak and lifeless gray. he is hollow; the metal creaks like the rusty door hinge. it’s a haunting sound; it would have inflicted pain like the creaking of joints if BOOTHILL were not numb. 

the bed creaks under the weight of his body—more metal than flesh—which makes the mattress sag. you’re not stirred by his movement; you’ve long memorised him. his raspy laugh, the comforting sound of the whirring fan in his cyborg body, and the clinking of his steel appendages. 

the sunlight filters through the curtains, and your sleeping figure is dripping like a saturated sunrise that spills all over you, reminiscent of an overflowing sink. it paints you with colours he has never seen on the spectrum before. he stays silent on the dark side of the room; the light does not touch him, and he is grey. 

he is ripped at every edge, a drawing of dust and shadow on stark white paper that tears through the pages. he is the smudged black ink of a portrait that ruins the piece—the wrong stroke of a paintbrush in a sea of pastels. you are warm with life; changing and flourishing with the seasons. he is cold with stillness; he does not change, nor can he mimic the soft beating in the crevice of your chest. 

“you up?” your voice breaks the silence of the room, once filled with your snores and the soft sound that comes with the spinning player on his hard disk. it’s a sweet sound, a melody that clashes with the cacophony of clinking that is him. 

“aeons, forgot how cold your hand is.” the slurred words roll off your tongue sleepily. he retracts his palm from your face on instinct. hesitation is what he feels when he wants to touch you; you are fragile. he does not want to shatter you like porcelain in his steel grip. you were a vision in the morning when the light came through, the only sacred religion he would put his faith in.

you see right through him, through all the winding gears and sparking wires that make him who he is, so you pull him close to you. he feels your breath, which peppers light kisses on his cheek, the way your palm caresses his face. you are warm like the sun, which brings heat and life, but BOOTHILL is cold like the moon. 

he was human once. slowly, he can’t remember what it’s like to feel you in his arms; the sensation of physical touch on every fibre of his mechanical body. and so he loses his humanity bit by bit. does the rough words that tumble out of his mouth, the curses really compensate for that missing part of him; coping with his own loss. he is growing numb to your touch, and so he kisses you so fervently to feel you that you gasp for air.

for that moment, everything was blue. his pills, his hands with oil pulsing beneath his skin, feeling your skin against what remains of his. his jeans that hung loosely to his waist, hooking your fingers through the belt loops to pull him closer for a kiss. and you were covered in the colours pulled apart at the seams—a beautiful shade of blue like the seas of lushanka.

but colours fade over time; they spill all over him like melting paint, washed away by the waters of the flood. and now everything is grey. his long hair that you stroke your fingers through. the smoke from the tip of his gun. his dreams, once vibrant with a kaleidoscope of hues, now dull. now he's so devoid of colour that he doesn't know what it means. the the only shade that stains his hands is a vibrant red, of love and fire, of spilled wine on grey titanium. when he touches you, a lilac sky of bruises marks your skin where his fingers left indents into your arm.

he longs to rip his heart out on the pavement, break every bone in his body, and spill blood like paint in your place. his heart is synthetic; the metal encasing his body like the exoskeleton of a swarm sting in place of bones. and BOOTHILL can do nothing but watch the colour of his world bleed to black and white.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

© MEIDNIGHTRAIN 2025. NO REPOSTING, PLAGIARISM ALLOWED

[meidnightrain]

I LOVE YOU CAN’T YOU TELL?

featuring aventurine, dan heng, jing yuan. fluff. repost bc tumblr deleted my fic. and so the meisha curse returns full force like a brick to the head.

———

“your luck is horrendous, i’ve never seen someone that bad. you’re breaking boundaries that i never knew existed darling.” AVENTURINE cooed at you, the hypnotising allure of his eyes gazing into yours. maybe it would have frightened you once upon a time, playing against someone you couldn’t winning against. then again, no one could ever beat him at his own game.

you huffed in annoyance, puffing your cheeks as you looked away in embarrassment. “maybe you didn’t shuffle them properly cause you know that i’d win.”

it was a bold claim that spilled from your mouth with no chance of ever coming true. that was your mistake you realised, the moment his eyes widened slightly with amusement. you had dug your own grave, you mused.

“are you insinuating that i don’t even know basic card handling skills? you wound me so, love. and to think that i thought you were different.” he sighed over dramatically, his hand on his chest and a pout replacing his stoic poker face. it was all show, a trick, you knew he was faking it but then again, he was great at manipulating his facade to his advantage.

“you’ll have to make it up to me, darling. let’s say, we make a bet. everytime i win, you give me a kiss. if you win, i’ll do anything you want.” he offered with a devious grin replacing his frown, tossing a poker chip like a coin expertly on his fingers. you’d taken the bait and now you had yourself cornered against a wall with no where left to hide.

you sighed in defeat, raising both your hands in surrender and showing your poorly drawn hand to him. “then, i’ll make things easier for you since i know i’m not going to win.”

AVENTURINE laughed, a low and sultry chuckle as he got up from his seat opposite you and making his way to you. his hand tilting your chin upwards for him to look at you with satisfaction. “a shame, i expected much more of a fight from you.”

it was a lie, that you knew for you’d fold and throw every game for him to win. maybe it wasn’t half bad to lose, if it meant that you could taste the sweet and addictive feeling of his lips on yours over and over again.

———

“vidyadhara typically go to scalegorge waterscape the self-reincarnating process. there, vidyadhara pearlkeepers will assist and protect their newly-reborn kin. pearlkeeper teams may have members that specialize in combat, cloudhymn, and egg-nurturing. then afterwards xianzhou fangyun will occasionally send inspectors-“

you can’t blame anyone else but yourself for landing yourself into this situation, you came to terms with after hearing DAN HENG drone on about the vidyadhara for about half an hour now. all it was were a few words about his vidyadhara side (or more specifically his horns, you resisted the urge to touch them) which launched him into a full on lecture about his kin.

not that it was bad or anything, maybe you’d be incapable of processing words for the next hour or so but his voice was melodious, music blending into the background. all you could do was stare at him intently, breathing in every feature of himself, the bad and the good.

that was until he lurched to a stop all of a sudden, it took you about a minute to notice the resounding silence in his room. you broke out of your trance, eyes meeting his which were blank.

“why did you stop?” you asked curiously, confusion and worry creeping into your tone at the way he didn’t meet your gaze, preferring to stare at the datapad at the far side of the room.

“it’s nothing, i was rambling again and i didn’t think you’d want to hear about that.” his reply is flat in that tone you’re so familiar with, his lips forming a thin line.

you can’t help but feel a pang in your chest, placing a hand on his shoulder reassuringly with a grin. “please, don’t stop. i was listening and i like to hear the sound of your voice.”

DAN HENG’S eyes lingered from the placement of your hand to the smile on your face, a blush blooming on his cheeks as he nodded and looked away, clearing his throat in embarrassment. “shall i continue?”

you chuckled at his reaction, cupping your cheeks as you urged for him to go on. his voice would be like a song stuck on loop in your head forever and ever.

———

“so, how was training?” you asked cheerfully, eyeing JING YUAN and his apprentice who were studiously ignoring your gaze. it was a regular occurrence for yanqing to be upbeat and describe his day in detail with great vigour, hands dancing creating elaborate gestures while your lover would chuckle to himself, his hand reaching to hold yours under the table.

that wasn’t the case today, in fact, the both of them were sitting directly across from you and the general always sat by your side so he could sneak touches of you from the boy’s watchful eyes. you couldn’t help but be confused as the dinner table grew quiet, aside from the clatter of chopsticks clinking against cutlery.

“here, have some more. you’re a growing boy and you need to eat more.” you said quickly, reaching to grab some portions of your food and spooning it into yanqing’s bowl. the boy’s lips quivered slightly, almost like he was itching to get something off his chest but he was cut off by your lover clearing his throat. your eyebrows furrow in suspicion at the sight, though he tried to cover it up, you saw his actions.

that’s when you decided to change your approach and attack yanqing, for you knew his weak points. “everything okay? you know you can always tell me if something’s bothering you. also, i saw this gorgeous sword when i was out and thought of you! we should check it out sometime, i know you’re a collector.”

that was enough to hit the nail on the head and make his resolve crumble, his expression quickly turning to one of guilt as he bowed his head in apology. “i broke one of your vases just now during training! i’m so sorry, i-i’ll replace it!”

it takes you a few seconds to digest his words, that’s what he was so nervous about? you can’t help but stifle a laugh, covering your mouth to keep it in. “that’s what you were worried about? a vase?”

yanqing’s expression morphed to puzzlement when he realised that you weren’t mad. it was cute, the way he thought that you’d be livid. “you’re not angry?”

you shook your head vigorously, laughing so hard that tears spill from your cheeks. “no, of course not! why would i be?”

“because the general said that this wasn’t one of the first times that something of yours was broken. that time, he accidentally broke your sculpture-“ his voice died out the moment he slipped up, eyes darting to your lover who had grown quiet. your amusement turned to anger, glaring at the general who holds his hands up in surrender.

he forced a smile, shrinking under the intensity of your leer. “now, darling…”

“what happened to ‘a poor skycrane with a broken wing flew in and shattered my sculpture?’“ your eyes narrowed at him, yanqing looking from you to him before deciding to sneak away quietly.

“i’ll make up for it,” the general said with a smirk, getting up from his seat to snake his hands around your waist, pulling you close into a kiss.

“it’s gonna take more than one kiss to make up for that sculpture.” you rolled your eyes, trying hard not to show how flustered you were by actions, to bad that he caught on.

JING YUAN pulled you closer to him, exuding a charm that was too hypnotic for you to break free off, your anger over the sculpture dissipating. “then i’ll kiss you for ever shattered piece. i must warn you that it quite literally broke into a hundred pieces.”

he knew how to push your buttons, that you could confirm. which leads you to wonder, how many more of your things that were mysteriously broken his doing and if he was willing to compensate you for every one? he’d be in debt with kisses for the rest of your lives.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

© MEIDNIGHTRAIN 2025. COPYING, PLAGIARISING NOT ALLOWED

[meidnightrain]

OH MY GOD DID YOU JUST DELETE MY POST TUMBLR WHAT THE HELL

[meidnightrain]

THE MEIDNIGHTRAIN CURSE RETURNS CAUSE WHY DO MY TAGS NEVER SHOW HELLO????

[meidnightrain]

loading user….MEISHA ?!

aries. eighteen. lover of gambling && mangoes. requests CLOSED. status: no longer writing