museanthology

[museanthology]

PEDRO PASCAL as Joel Miller THE LAST OF US | The Price

[museanthology]

𝐅𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘, 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 right after being booted from your own house. The door hadn’t slammed, but it may as well have. Ellie hadn’t meant to fight; she’d just asked a question, something about lunch, and suddenly it was like stepping into a hornet’s nest. Words hurled. Accusations she wasn’t even sure made sense. Eyes glistening with tears and fury, Dina rounding on her with all the righteous heat of a storm finally let loose. She had muttered something on the way out—just go, please go, I can’t do this with you right now—and it had lodged somewhere deep in Ellie’s ribs, just beneath the scar tissue and too close to her lungs. She stepped off the porch like she might call her back if she waited long enough, just one breath, one heartbeat, and when it didn’t come, she started walking. She was halfway down the gravel road into town when she spotted Rae leaning up against the post of the old feed store porch, arms crossed, sunglasses pushed up into her curls like a crown. Ellie came to a stop a few feet away, heartbeat a stutter beneath her skin.

❛ . . . . You saw that, huh? ❜  She shifted the strap on her shoulder and sighed, the sound catching at the edges.  ❛ . . . I’m trying, swear to God, I’m trying. I’m doing the dishes, I’m running to get her weird cravings, I’ve been reading baby books when she’s asleep just so I don’t fuck up all the stuff I can help her with one its here. But it’s like everything I do lately just... makes it worse. ❜ She rubbed the heel of her palm over her chest like she could smudge out the burn there. ❛ And I am . . . really, really concerned she’s been possessed by demons. ❜

a starter for @sezobriedaria ; rae

[museanthology]

It’s (!!!!) three days until @starlitsonnets visits me—and I cannot believe it’s already here. I’ve been insanely busy deep cleaning my house, but I’ll be around because our plans essentially consist of us doing everything we do apart but together. I know I’ve got a lot of inbox prompts, and I will be getting to them (happily) very soon. Between the remodel for the bookstore + prepping for Lyra to be here, I’ve been scarce, but my muse is higher than ever.

Time to go snuggle these little cuddly hams while I get some drafting done.

[museanthology]

𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖, a sound escaping her, something strangled between a laugh and a whimper. Her thighs twitched under Ellie’s palms, the cool of the air against her heat making her feel more bare, more exposed, more seen than she had in weeks. She wanted to beg, breathless and a little delirious, bringing her hand up blindly, fingers catching in the wildness of Ellie’s hair and giving just a hint of guidance, a half-assed pretense at control. Her skin hypersensitive. Every time Ellie speaks, every time she calls her beautiful, it goes straight to the part of Dina that’s always been hardest to soothe, and she opens her eyes, hauling herself up on her elbows, because she wants to see, needs to watch the stubborn set of her jaw and the soft flush on her cheeks when she looks up from between her legs. It hits her like a warm tide breaking across her chest, and she's overwhelmed by the rawness of it, the honesty. How Ellie saw her. Every inch of her skin felt flayed open, lit with static. The room spun slow around her, dark and gold in the soft light. Her hips tilted, seeking relief, finding only more anticipation. Her legs fell a little wider. Her chest heaved. Everything inside her pulling tight and sharp, the want clawing up through her lungs, a need so hot it borders on anger. She tilts her hips up again, inviting, pleading, letting Ellie feel just how desperate she is. ( God, she could’ve wept for how much she wanted it. ) How much she wanted her. Her ribs ached from the swell of it, this need that had teeth and bloom and no patience left to give. Ellie’s eyes caught hers again, and Dina felt her body lurch. Her hand reached down without thought, finding Ellie’s wrist where it rested at the edge of her hip, and curled her fingers around it; her grip soft but urgent. Pleading, almost. Her skin was burning. Her whole self felt made of wax, ready to melt into the mattress if Ellie didn’t touch her soon.

❛ Stop being a shit, ❜ she says, but it comes out breathy, barely more than a wish. ❛ Don’t tease,❜ she rasps. ❛ I want you. Please. ❜

⠀⠀⠀𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐒, 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐎𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐈𝐍 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇; low, aching, hungry. A breathless chuckle falls from her in the wake of Dina's abrupt tug at her shirt, yanking her forward with unspoken, but loud, wants. Ellie's brows lift at first, but it only takes a second for surprise to fade into something that yearns — for Dina, and to fulfil what it is she asks for. Her gaze flickers down, then back up to Dina’s lips, parted and waiting. Heat crawls up her spine and colours her neck red, her fingers twitch where they sail along the hem of Dina's shorts. Ellie’s heart is beating so damn hard she swears Dina can feel it. Her free hand rises to cup Dina’s jaw, thumb grazing her cheek. And then her mouth is on hers. In a way that makes her toes curl; slow, sensual, yet not shy of both claiming and demanding. Ellie captures her bottom lip with soft pressure, then slants her head to greet Dina's tongue with her own. She tastes like toothpaste and her, something entirely intoxicating. It starts wildfires within Ellie, flames that lap at her skin and drive her nuts. But tonight isn't about her. Tonight is only about Dina, about giving and devotion. Tonight is only for her. It is why Ellie pulls back just enough to murmur,

⠀⠀⠀❛ Lay back. ❜ She moves with a slowness that's almost too unbearable for herself. Her hands, steady and reverent, lift Dina's shirt until the fabric is bunched over the curve of her stomach, baring her changing form. And fuck. Ellie’s breath catches. The swell of Dina’s belly makes something ache deep inside her, fierce and protective and desirous. She presses a kiss there, then another, and another. Her palms find bare skin, warm and smooth, and she trails her lips along the midline; between her ribs, across the gentle rise of her bump, down, down, toward the edge of her shorts. Ellie listens to Dina's body — pays attention to every hitched breath, every frail sigh, every twitch and stir, and what she hears only spurs her on. There's no sound more beautiful or cruelly tempting than Dina's moans. Despite her own heat that pools, she doesn't stop. Would honestly rather die than stop. She just shifts lower on the bed, settling herself between Dina’s legs, fingers hooking beneath both the waistband of her shorts and underwear. A shiver of anticipation flecks her spine.

⠀⠀⠀❛ Gonna take these off, okay? ❜ She whispers before, with deliberate languor, peeling the fabric down inch by inch. And when she finally bares her, wet and aching with want, Ellie's breath stutters like she'd been punched in the chest. As the sight always did. As it alway would. Dina’s glistening, flushed pink and perfect, and it sends a pulse of electricity straight through Ellie’s core, sharp and sweet. ❛ You're so fuckin’ beautiful, Dina. So beautiful. ❜ She whispers her praise. A low groan rises in her throat, yearning and ravenous, and she lingers only for a second longer, just looking, like awe had anchored her in place. It's Dina's impatience that eggs her on. She tosses the fabric aside, then slides her arms beneath Dina's knees, gently guiding them up and apart before lowering herself into her favourite place.

⠀⠀⠀❛ Tell me what you want, baby. ❜ Ellie breathes against Dina's skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the insides of her thighs. Each caress is soft at first, then with just enough pressure to coax a moan out of her. But she doesn’t go where Dina wants. Not yet. She pauses dangerously near, kisses along the tender skin just adjacent. Breathes close enough to make her shiver, brushes her lips over her mound, featherlight, then drifts back down, teasing. A smug smile tugs at the edge of her mouth. ❛ Tell me. ❜

[museanthology]

TITANIC 1997 | dir. James Cameron

[museanthology]

[museanthology]

BRANDON SKLENAR as SPENCER DUTTON 1923 ‧ War and the Turquoise Tide

[museanthology]

PSA: YOU'RE NOT BEING IGNORED.

A major part of the tumblr rp experience is refreshing the dash and see your mutual roleplaying with someone else. Or maybe they're answering asks, reblogging musing posts, making an OOC post here and there. However, there will be times where you are waiting on a plot, an ask, or a roleplay to be responded to and you see your partner interacting or engaging more with other people.

Again, the mind is a cruel thing. Inadequacy, jealousy, general anxieties stem up sometimes, it's part of being human. But what's important is how you act on these emotions. Please remind yourself that sometimes, things take time. Not all plots go somewhere. Sometimes, someone may not be feeling their muse for that rp. Maybe they just got really busy. Thousands of reasons, but none of them have anything to do with how much they like you as a person.

And that's okay. This isn't homework-- People should be allowed to pin down what they want to write and write it as they please. If you really want specific interactions, you can always send ic / anonymous asks to muses. You can make your own starter calls. Please don't put all of your eggs into one basket, as you will come to resent the people who don't immediately refill it. Don't be a goob, you have people who enjoy you AND your writing.

[museanthology]

[museanthology]

Bucky is that you

[museanthology]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍. That full-bodied wail . . . if you're a parent, you know the one. He wasn’t sure which one it was—maybe Kevin. Or Kate. Or both, twisting in tandem like they did inside of his wife just weeks ago. The third baby, Randall, was somehow still asleep, swaddled tight, mouth slack, lashes fluttering against his cheek. Jack stared at him for a second, willing the peace to last, before the kettle on the stove screeched to life and yanked him back into the blur. The formula spilled. He cursed under his breath and shook out the excess. Measured again. Water, formula, swirl. He hadn’t slept. His shirt smelled like spit-up and something sour; he hadn’t had a proper shower in . . . God, how long had it been? A day? Three? Jack had always thought of himself as the guy who could hold it all together. Duct-tape any disaster. Smile through the worst of it and patch every hole before the water poured in. But three infants, endless nights, a wife hanging by a thread . . . it was no leaky pipe. It was a goddamn flood. The hallway light flickered as he padded across the floor in socks that had long since lost their shape.

He stopped in the doorway to the bedroom.

Rebecca was there.

She hadn’t moved since the last time he’d checked—an hour ago? maybe less—perched on the edge of the bed, wrapped in that worn robe he loved, her hair falling like wet ink over her shoulder, hands resting in her lap. There was something hollow in her eyes. ( Distant. ) Like she was somewhere far off, and for a moment, he worried he didn’t know how to reach her there. Jack moved toward her slowly; the bottle set down on the dresser—forgotten for now. All he could see was her. He reached for her hand, warm but limp in his own, and brought it to rest between both of his palms. ❛ I know this is hard, ❜ There were tears in his throat he refused to let fall—because if he cried, she might have to comfort him, and he wouldn't allow that. ❛ We’re in the deep end, Becks, ❜ he whispered, voice cracking at the edges. ❛ But I swear—I’ll keep swimming. With you. For them. For us. ❜ He brought her hand to his lips as if he could pass strength from his mouth to her skin like warmth through glass. ❛ Just… talk to me. ❜

a starter for @starlitsonnets ; rebecca pearson

[museanthology]

Mail call!

MASTERS OF THE AIR Part Seven

[museanthology]

Updated my rules & guidelines. ✌️

[museanthology]

[museanthology]

⋆｡˚✩ 𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 ✩˚｡⋆ ⊹ personal excerpts & soft unravelings ⊹ 𓆩𖤓𓆪 musings inspired by various fandoms, daydreams & the ache of memory.

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 ☁︎ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐞 ♡ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠.

✧ follow for ♡ poetic prose ♡ fandom-inspired musings ♡ a little heartbreak & a lot of heart

Join my community here.

[museanthology]

THE LAST OF US 2.01

[museanthology]

A little bit of an ooc post, but I’m in my feels—

For those who don’t know, I am the first and only independent bookstore in my small town—a dream of mine that has come true ( 😭♥️ ). Given that the building was deemed historical by the previous owners, I am waiting on approval as the new owner, and then we can head into the final phase of remodeling. This is why my activity is often low overall—but also one of the reasons why I dedicated my multi-muse to all things literary. Sorry to be so sappy on the dash, but I can’t believe this is my real life.