#and the muse just possessed me

[celestial-ringleader]

“. . .I still feel like I’ve got a circus tent on my back. . .this is like a ballgown made of kevlar!”

I’ve been thinking way too much about Dick as Batman............ @ronnyraygun

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

an absolute genius wonderful friend of mine had the WORLD'S BEST SUGGESTION,,,,

switcharoo AU Eclipse (Solar) + Afton Virus AU 💕💕💕

[drones-of-innocence]

Traveled Half the World to Say, You Are My Muse...

What if in an alternate universe, Princess Peach was an exchange student studying art?

She might enjoy getting a daily coffee before classes, and particularly over the weekends where she planned to walk around the city in search of her muse.

Until, one day, she finds him.

Her muse appears to her in the form of a man at a coffee shop on a rainy day.

The dreary light from the windows catches the brightest blue eyes she's ever seen, and a frustrated hand combs back dark curls as he focuses on his laptop. A full cup of coffee sits, forgotten, by his elbow.

"Excuse me," she approached him before she can think twice, after blocking the doorway and apologizing to the incoming customers who stumbled into her. A childish sense of shame filled her, and she grasped at the straps of her messenger bag. He glanced up at her with those piercing eyes. Her throat went dry. "May—may I sketch you?"

She sees his eyes dart across her face, to the University's emblem on her shirt, to the messenger bag covered in bright patches. His mustache hides his mouth, so she can't tell what he's thinking behind that even stare.

The lack of a response compels nervous laughter. "I'm an art student. It'd just be really quick. I won't bother you; it's good practice, that's all." the explanation bubbled out of her through his silence. The other people sitting in the shop thankfully paid her no mind beyond a glance or two. She struggled not to force a harder smile.

His eyes narrowed for just a moment. She detected a touch of suspicion in his creased brow.

"Sure. Fine," he said, nodding to the seat in front of him before returning his attention to his laptop.

Relieved, Peach practically sank into the chair. "Oh, thank you. Don't mind me at all, it won't take long." she whipped out her sketchbook and pencil, trying to find a blank page to begin. He didn't answer, reviewing whatever was on his screen.

She started by mapping out the general form of his torso and face. He was quite a short man, much shorter than her, but he had an incredibly sturdy build. He wore a modest sweater, but she could see a hint of definition in his shoulders and chest even through the draping red cloth. She wondered if he was very active. Or perhaps his job demanded a certain degree of fitness.

He seemed older than her, but not by much at all. Maybe he was a recent graduate? She focused a little more on his face, trying not to get distracted by his eyes, to sketch out an accurate shape.

His sharp jawline contrasted with his round cheeks. "You have a very impressive mustache," she said, trying to capture the angles just right. She had never seen such a remarkable mustache. It suited the shape of his face so well that she had a hard time imagining his face without it. He didn't respond except to glance at her, expression still unreadable.

She grazed her pencil over the paper, a ghost of a line indicating a suspected dimple in his cheek. She wouldn't know for sure unless he smiled.

"Your nose is so unique," she murmured, careful to capture the precise form. Such a striking round shape. At this, she noticed him let out a sharp sigh and keep a stern focus on his computer. She was nearly done, though, so she had to persist. Had to get this specimen on paper.

Her education had created an efficient artist out of her. Her lines gained more focus, nearly portraying an accurate likeness.

It was those eyes that had captured her attention in the first place. She traced the shape of his thick brows, framing his face with a soft intensity. Nothing in the cafe could draw her away. Not the constant ringing of the doorbell as people came and went, not the steady noise level from the dozens of conversations around them. Not even the rich scent of the coffee that she so adored. Instead, her nose was more keen toward the fresh, clean scent that she assumed was the man's cologne. Her cheeks grew a little warm.

She just managed to trace the shape of his irises, though her linework could not capture the way the color almost glowed. She had never felt such a spark inside as she did looking upon this man. "Your eyes are so beautiful," she said, looking between him and the page. "I don't think I've ever seen such a bright blue before..." she looked up, only to trail off as she realized he was glaring at her.

"That's enough." The man stood from his stool in a flash, shoving his laptop in a bag. Peach jumped. Eyes wide.

He stopped only long enough to give her a hard look, before he turned and marched out of the cafe.

A few customers turned to look as Peach watched him go. Her heart skipped a beat, an alarmed sting of confusion going through her veins. He disappeared quickly down the street.

She didn't understand. Maybe he was busy and didn't want her to bother him? But if that were the case, he simply could have refused to allow her to draw him, right? Swallowing hard, she looked down at her quick little rendering of the man. His features all together created a soft image, with kind and earnest eyes. But suddenly, all she could see was that icy glare.

The rain picked up outside. Peach slowly put away her book and decided not to explore the city that day after all.

In her morose bewilderment, she could hardly take out her sketchbook over the next couple of days. A few of her classmates noticed and tried to engage her in idle gossip, but she didn't have the heart to pay any real attention.

Her work on the sketch had been solid. When she did take out her book, she would take some time to look at the man, even though the memory of that harsh look twisted the perception of her art.

Where the city had been so colorful and vibrant, it all suddenly seemed so dull and gray.

"Your muse?" her roommate caught her one day going over the lines, and pressed her until she'd explained the situation. "Are you sure he's your muse? Don't you think you might just have a crush on him?"

The suggestion haunted her like his face did in her dreams.

The sun warmed her back when she made her way down the street the next weekend. She caught sight of the cafe, and thought a coffee might do her some good before her excursions for the day. Classes had been long that week anyway; she deserved a little treat.

The bell rang on the door as soon as she walked in. Many people looked up at her on impulse before returning to their own drinks.

Except for him.

In the exact same place she had spotted him before. Those bright blue eyes fixed right on her. Like blue jewels in the sunlight.

Peach froze for a moment before abruptly averting her eyes. Should she leave? This was embarrassing. But an indignance rose up in her chest to fight off the shame. She had just as much of a right to be here as he did. She wasn't going to turn tail just because of some guy.

So she raised her chin, gripped the strap of her bag, and hurried to the complete opposite side of the room as him.

It was only after she had sat down and arranged her books and materials around for her homework that she realized she had forgotten to go to the counter to order herself a coffee.

Well. She had just as much of a right to be here, but she did not currently have the nerve to get back up and show herself and do something crazy like risk making eye contact again. With a deep breath, and heat rising to her cheeks, she got to work scanning over the latest assignment.

The low music playing harmonized with the low hum of conversation in the cafe. Peach tried to make sense of the description of the assignment, but she couldn't quite focus on any of the words.

A cup of coffee and a pastry appeared at her elbow.

Peach looked up. The man, the subject of her thoughts and dread the past week, took a careful step back to a respectful distance. Those pretty eyes focused on her with a hesitant guilt. He had his own coffee cup in his hand.

"I didn't know how you liked your coffee," he nodded to the cup on the table, where he had placed cream and sugar beside it. "But I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."

Her throat went dry. Swallowing hard, Peach tried to figure out a normal way to sit without fidgeting. "E—excuse me?"

He nodded and took a deep breath. "I was rude to you last week. I believed you were, ah, trying to make fun of me. With all the things you said to me." He glanced at the floor before looking back at her again. "It was a mistake to assume the worst. You seem very kind. I am sorry for how I behaved to you." he tried to smile.

A new light dawned on Peach's understanding. "Oh. Oh, goodness, not at all!" She set her pencils and books aside. "I wasn't teasing you. I'm so sorry if I came across that way; I must have been distracted..."

The man waved her off. "No, please. It was nothing about you. I think you come across as very sweet, Miss. It was my fault."

Very sweet. He thought she was sweet. Peach tried to ignore the furious heat that rose up to her face. She pursed her lips and nodded her appreciation.

He gestured to the coffee and the pastry he had chosen for her. "Please," he said. "I will leave you now. I hope you enjoy the rest of your day, Miss—"

"Wait," Peach reached out. "Um, I just want you to know that I genuinely think that you are handsome. You have the prettiest eyes. And uh, I appreciate the apology. If you want, you could have the rest of your coffee with me?"

The man blinked at her when she moved to make a space for him to sit. She could have sworn she saw his cheeks flush with a little color. He didn't say anything.

She stuck out her hand. "I'm Peach. I'm an art student at the University. But you already knew that." she laughed nervously. "Um, what's your name?"

It occurred to her that he was just as flustered as she was. An excited, hopeful spark lit up her chest.

He reached out to shake her hand. "I'm Mario," he said, and moved to sit down.

O~o~O

[chronicowboy]

actually the worst writer feeling is not writer's block or no inspiration or just an exhaustion that you can't write through, it's when you have that itch to write but inspiration is juuuust out of reach like i can keep brushing my fingers against the corner of my next idea but i can't quite grab it

[swirldmg]

          " aren't you a peculiar fellow ? "  for a moment ,  venti forgets himself :  he's so enthralled in his own childlike curiosity ,  his fascination ,  that anything resembling personal space or boundaries is carried away with the gentle breeze .  such craftsmanship !  quite literally divine  ---  venti is walking circles around this poor fellow .  shaped like a person ,  but inhuman enough that celestia doesn't care ...  for now ,  he supposes .  but their lack of intervention so far is a good sign .  he's never seen anything quite like it .

@gonguji !!

[deathinfeathers]

//Lute is the only muse I've had duplicate anxiety over.

[nocentis]

x

[tenacquity]

this is so important this is so important this is so important

makes an entire wallpaper out of these 4 screencaps worships it daily sacrifices my body, mind, and soul—

[kuraikyu]

@muraskiii : flicks gummy worms at him, "to keep your brain company!"

Thrumming energy on a spectrum with vice at either end softens roundabout of atmospheric confluence in glooms of play-pretend. Motion caught with a mere side glance - a surprise addressing him to be roused.

Thread of binding unlaced. Bane without bleeding baring set of enamel-coated structures lurking in (un)natural denture, — they lashed out —, teeth sank with ease into tenderly succulent stem captured in mid-fall. Roughness given to a surface not longer than fragments of glue to adhere. Chewing, biting, but not swallowing. Unfolding palm outstretched near now-incomplete forehead to capture another unhealthy delight dropping down his way. That's the second one. All the while blackened gaze of the hijacked vessel notably lingered right on the Honored One with eyebrow raised without tick, and twitch in eye's brim, '' How thoughtful of you. '' A clap back at progressive tug at his customary display of confessional nonchalance.

'' At least invite me to a proper dinner. And if you're that bored -- who gets to walk away undamaged wins. '' He could hold up to shame and laugh to scorn, emboldening their banters until the end of the days.

The proper bite happens like a nom of first luxury, the rest slips in like a man would slurp on a thick noodle. Mauling at burnished lush of bloody red and sugary orange.

[winter-blossoms-yume]

Actually the worst thing about being a ludger yume and, like, thinking about s/i’s and stuff is that the canon endings are all MEAN. The only ending where he really survives is contradictory to the game themes and I don’t like it :(

[vesselmade-a]

let’s just go over this one more time: yuji beat nanami’s black flash record, he learned rct in a month, he has blood manipulation (most likely), it’s hinted that he might have soul possession….is there anything he can’t do?

[eterniityblooms]

updated my rules to include shipping info + a bit more about my monster muses specifically, since shipping with at LEAST one muse on this account is probably inevitable at some point

[fastfists]

Knuckles would only be 'possessive' or 'jealous' in a polyamorous relationship IF it's someone his partner has zero interest in but keeps being persistent. Otherwise? Nah, he's not usually that possessive or jealous...

[mizumonohomo]

ok fiiiiine i'll say it. i was mad that Last Night in Soho wasn't toxic yuri. you got me.

[gailynovelry]

I have written 3,000 words of Heralds of Rhimn (so far) today. I did not mean to do it, but do it I have done.

[indigodawns]

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