#masquerade prompts

[roseyprompts]

at the masquerade

a mix of romance and angst

1. “Behind every mask, there’s a story waiting to be told. What's yours?”

2. “The mask isn’t to hide from you, but to protect you from the truth.”

3. “Your laugh is unmistakable, even beneath that disguise.”

4. “I’m just another soul seeking the thrill of anonymity.”

5. “Masks hide our faces but not our souls. Maybe that’s all we need to see.”

6. “That mask... it’s more than just a disguise, isn’t it?”

7. “Are you prepared for what you might discover?”

8. “My heart recognizes yours.”

9. “If I take my mask off, will you still love me?”

10. “This mask was with me when I awoke this morning, along with an address.”

11. “Every game has its risks, especially in a masquerade.”

two characters

A: Before the night ends and our faces are revealed, promise me this moment won’t be forgotten.

B: I promise.

A: Have we met, or is it the magic of the masquerade?

B: Perhaps both.

A: Walking into this ball, I felt your presence like a ghost from my past. Why do you haunt me?

B: We have unfinished business.

A: Even behind this mask, I feel as if you can see right through me.

B: It’s not about seeing with the eyes but feeling with the soul. And yours speaks volumes.

A: Your eyes...I’d know them anywhere.

B: Because tonight, I wanted to be found by you and you alone.

A: Why won’t you let me in?

B: Because letting you in means letting the pain out.

A: They say the most honest conversations happen when faces are hidden. Care to test the theory?

B: A challenge? I accept. Let’s see if masks gives us the courage to speak our secrets.

[harbingersecho]

WODtober 18 > Weapon of Choice The Predator types of Vampires

[stop-ur-losing-me]

my favorite lovers tropes

academic rivals to lovers (IS SO GOOD, plus when theyre forced to work together)

the "why didn't you answer my letters??" followed by "you wrote me letters???" HEARTWRENCHING

fake dating (enough said)

the 'you need to learn how to dance so im gonna teach you and oh gosh why r we this close?' (honestly one of my all time favs)

the two enemies dancing together at a masquerade dance (yes, just yes)

the screamed love confession during an argument "BECAUSE I LOVE YOU" (best thing ever)

one bed trope (enough said)

the 'i hate everyone but you' couple (yesssss)

one losing their mind if the other is hurt or captured (cough percabeth cough)

the bodyguard/princess trope I REPEAT THE BODYGUARD/PRINCESS TROPE

the 'we were flirting and everyone else knows we were flirting but we're in denial bout it' (this trope)

MUTUAL PINING MUTUAL PINING

additionally, the 'everyone thinks we're dating but we r not/ in denial bout it' (BEST TROPE EVER)

the hero falling for the villain (honestly one of the best ones out there)

lovers to enemies (SO ANGSTY)

there's more i'll add when i can :)

[calisources]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences on these meme make references to royal balls, medieval ballrooms or regency, basically set during any period drama. You can change names, pronouns, titles and more as you see fit. Most of these were taken from different source materials found via google search. This meme makes references to masquerades, royal dances and partners.

Dancing, at its best, is independence and intimacy in balance.

Dance is the timeless interpretation of life.

Music does not need language of words for it has movements of dance to do its translation.

Masks reveal. They don’t conceal. Masks reveal your cravings, your passion, your deepest most secret desires.

It was you. I know it was you.

Look at me, Kia! Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not her.

And who shall you be once you don your grand disguise?

I don't like to hear you talk about yourself that way. Your scars do not define you, young lady. Your action do.

All the ladies must dress the same and the men have to find their partners. It’s a game of sorts. 

Even the smallfolk have their own version of the ball, at the steps of the castle.

Swoon, Dora. Every young woman deserves to swoon over the love of her life.

Dash it, Everton, how'd you know it was me?

A masquerade could have been a beautiful dance. 

 Oh, well. What's a royal ball? After all, I suppose it would be frightfully dull, and-and-and boring, and-and completely... Completely wonderful.

Each finds a partner, and upon the bell, we must change partner until we find the one we came to be. . .or the one we desire.

It has been a while since you gave me the honor to dance with you.

If the princess is not too occupied, I would wish for a dance, perhaps?

The Queen and King have to open the ball but the King is gone. No mind, I shall be in his place.

Sometimes in life confusion tends to arise and only dialogue of dance seems to make sense.

If we want our men to dance, we have to inspire them. 

 But with something more, something bigger, something that will give them a reason to want to dance.

But when balls are held for pleasure, They're the balls that I like best.

Will you be my princess for the Ball?

Keeping pushing, Andrei, and you and I are going to play a game.

Nothing like a ball to cheer a nation, give the old lords wine and the young boys the opportunity to find a nice woman and everyone shows up.

Where are you taking me? The ball hasn’t ended.

Royals is like a beautiful, broken angel: hard to look at, but utterly impossible to turn away from.

Attend the royal ball in all your glory and find out what fate has in store for you.

How many dances is one allowed before people begin to whisper?

You cannot behave like a brute. It is my duty to dance with every suitor. I am their princess.

I do not recognize you, my lord? Are you from these lands? 

It is bad luck to steal a princess.

Attend the royal ball in all your glory and find out what fate has in store for you.

There is nothing quite like dancing in the moonlight. It sets your soul on fire and your heart aflutter.

The beauty of a ball is not just in its grandeur, but in the connections it sparks, the emotions it stirs, and the hopes it ignites.

Just keep your eyes on me. No one else here matters.

I shall keep dancing with you until you stop being stubborn and go speak with me. Or you rather have people whisper?

The princess looks beautiful tonight, does she not?

Father, please, you must dance as well. Your dull looks are making people bored.

You promised me a dance when you were better. Are you?

I've loved you at every dance, on every walk, every time we've been together and every time we've been apart.

I can feel people's eyes on me.

Every time I walk into a ballroom, I know they are comparing me to Daphne.

You both get to choose your passions and adventures, while my beloved is chosen by me. And now I must join them for a dance.

Are you planning on running away when the clock strikes midnight? 

If you do wish to go away, I know a spot, secluded enough.

You wish for me to go with you, alone, unchaperoned. I am a maiden, my lord. 

Aye, but I am no lord, sweet maiden. And these masks allow us some privacy.

This is my last chance to find a match on my own accord. If I don’t. The King will do it for me and I would rather not.

 I'm only a girl, not a princess.

Believe me - they're all looking at you.

 They're all looking at you.

You are requested and required to present yourself to your king.

 I do not even know if that beautiful slipper will fit But, if it does--will you take me as I am?

 It would be an insult to take you to the palace dressed in these old rags.

How charming, how perfectly charming.

When I go back, they will try to pair me off with a lady of their choosing. I'm expected to marry for advantage.

Oh. Well, whose advantage would this marriage be of?

I hope you don't find our kingdom too confining.

I am. An apprentice monarch. Still learning my trade.

Our prince seems quite taken with her.

She went straight for him. You have to appreciate her efficiency.

Walk into the room knowing you are the best. Shoulders back, chin up. Their attitudes will totally change.

You dance love, and you dance joy, and you dance dreams.

The ball is about to come to an end, and you have yet not told me your name. 

I thought we agreed we would remain strangers.

I’m afraid my true identity would put you in danger. 

Have you ever been kissed by a stranger at the end of a ball? If not, let me be the first.

Put him on all the invitation lists, he's a divine dancer.

I’m afraid I’m more used to swordfight than ballroom.

You will ruin your pretty gown, princess. I would not wish to step on your toes.

 Silly, I am a great dancer, no one ever steps on my toes.

No. Let them dance. Interrupting would cause a scandal.

One of these men will be my husband one day. What a thought.

The art of husband seeking at it’s peak, during royal ball season. 

Maiden beware, a gentleman can become a beast when the bell strikes.

[ghoulsteak]

💉

[mewpangxin]

—✦Thoughts on what would happen if the reader loses memory in Glorious Masquerade Events —✦

(CW: Yandere)

FT. Rollo Flamme X GN! Reader

He was taken aback when you woke up and plastered your arms around his neck, his eyes stared at you.

... Don't you remember what he has done?

You looked dubious of the boys from Night Raven College, and refused to meet them or discuss.

He was thankful that it went like this.

He steadied himself and inquired you with his voice.

He concealed his smile with his purple handkerchief as he soothed you with courtesy on the outside.

He didn't hurt you (I think?) - Nonetheless he was a culprit.. or could it be a chance for him? Is this a way where he could amend his ways? And save you from those twisted mindset of liking magic users?

Does he learn anything from his mistakes?

Of course not! Why should he feel awful for what he did for a greater cause? He was not wrong.

Since it's for their own good. And yours.

Your ‘acquaintances’ weren't here and you can count, depend on him, and live with him!

His apathetic self dissipated as he tells you that you were secured in Noble Bell College, oh his dear beloved, how glad he was to defend you in this case, no wretched fae or being can rip you away from him.

He was a student president council and what he informed you has no lies, he said the facts to you.

—It was overly dramatic and that he hid about how you were from another institution. He doesn't have a brutal streak, you don't have to be on guard— he can accommodate your needs and your troubles too.

He readjusted your hair with his comb, musing how lucky you were to have him like this, all wrapped around your little finger. Even he was puzzled if this was due to you being a siren but he disregarded it as impossible because you truly had no ability to use spells or any enchantments on anyone he saw.

It seems the transferring you to his school was going with no problems as his principal was sympathetic towards you and gave the position to Rollo to take care of you. You needn't face the overblots anymore, his green pupils gazed at the scars imprinted on you.

“Although I was not able to achieve my goal.. this outcome isn't as vicious as I'd hope to receive.”

Spouting words that you did not register. He placed a hand on your forehead as he brushed it placidly.

“You may not concur to my ideals, and it's alright, I’m patient to wait until you are with me.”

His face was less curt as he caressed your lips.

“Say to them that you agreed to be within my academy. No one will dissent. Won’t you?”

If he can't have his dream fulfilled then you would be his compensation for everything he wants so terribly.

He will only take a ‘yes’ from you as his answer.

[viccerys]

Day 5: #WoDtober In the Shadows & #h0ptober: Harvest

Finally drew my priest toreador OC, he deserves rendered art of himself.

[namichanth]

Dc x Dp prompt #13

When Danny became the Ghost King. There will be a celebration for the Ghost King’s accession to the throne at his new castle in infinite realms.

But the problem is that he needs a partner for the opening dance.

So he goes ask his girl/boyfriend to be his partner.

[achaotichuman]

Marry Me

Tamlin Week Day Five (yes I know it is day 6, I didn't get time to upload yesterday) Today I decided to, you guessed it, write some Tamcien.

The prompt I am using is masquerade. Tamlin has been wanting to marry Lucien for two years now, and finally he is putting his plan into action.

Let's hope all goes smoothly for him.

You can read on Ao3 or below the cut!

Pen tucked behind golden curls. Tamlin read over the poem he had spent hours agonising over once again. 

Furrowing his brow, read it over another time, which quickly turned into a third, then a fourth, followed by a fifth. Not the longest poem he had ever written, but certainly not the shortest. A page of a babbling love confession, full of smooth compliments and hidden meanings about their time together. What it did to his heart. How it solely belonged to the person he was writing this for. 

“Okay.” Tamlin took a deep breath, finally happy with the result of his labour, he folded up and tucked the poem in a hidden pocket in his jacket, where the box of emerald velvet lay. 

What was harder than writing the poem, was finding the ring to go along with it. How does one shop for jewellery for the male that has ever accessory the world’s richest could ask for? It is incredibly difficult. And the decision took two years. 

Two years since Tamlin ultimately decided he was going to marry Lucien Vanserra. Two years and he was finally ready. 

At the first light that morning. When Lucien and Tamlin were tangled in a mess of limbs, sheets and… other things, Tamlin had looked up at the male as he opened his sleepy eyes. Scarlet hair frizzy, a piece stuck in his mouth, a sliver of drool dried on the corner of his mouth, and a bleary face. Tamlin had never felt more in love. He had tucked a lock of hair behind Lucien’s ear and kissed his head. Lucien had responded by tucking his face into Tamlin’s shoulder, strong arms around the High lord’s waist, pulling him in closer. 

Ever the dare-devil, that Lucien Vanserra had grinding up against him and in a second they were consumed with lazy love-making as the sun rose up behind them. 

In that sweet, slow moment. Tamlin knew it was finally the day. Even though he had already been planning this exact moment, on this exact day for months. He knew it was perfect, he had picked well. 

When they had finally dragged themselves from the comfort of their bed and the warmth of the other. Tamlin had dragged Andras into distracting Lucien for the day. Getting them to go off on a hunting ride and conveniently ‘get lost’. 

Bron and Hart, along with Alis and her gally of servants and maids were joining Tamlin in setting everything up. 

Ten hours of work later and Tamlin was oh so pleased with the result. 

Everyone was exhausted, but no tiredness could outweigh the excitement quivering in everyone. Tamlin stared at what they had all managed to create. A party unlike any other. A massive ball being thrown, a masquerade no less. Everyone from the Lords and Ladies to the field workers were dressed to the nines in their finery tonight. The Spring Court Manor had been transformed for the night into a wonderworld. Full of dim candle light. Soft, lovingly haunting music filling the air with sweet notes. The smell of roasts, berries and chocolate wafted through the air, mixing with the perfumes of hundreds of ladies in gowns, flowers riding up the sides of their skirts.

It was… not a traditional celebration of Spring. Any kind of traditional party often involved a lot of barefootedness and losing your skirts in a tree with a ravenous partner. Or dancing like you were fighting in a quick upbeat celebration while the bonfires roared, and people drank and danced. 

Whilst Tamlin preferred the more down and dirty parties, Lucien liked this. This more upstyle, classy celebration. It was what he came from, and what he always savoured and enjoyed. 

So Tamlin would give it to him. Tamlin would give anything to him. 

“Ready?” Alis asked. Adjusting her own golden mask. Tamlin swallowed hard as he fixed up his green and gold waistcoat. Adjusting the golden drop piercings in his ears, and fixing up his coat. 

“Yes. Where is Andras and Lucien?”

“Andras just convinced Lucien to winnow directly into their rooms.” Bron giggled as he ran up to join them. Hart quick on his talk, both shaking with their poorly contained laughs. The two troublemakers hardly being able to keep their glee to themselves. 

Alis rolled her eyes and quickly snapped at the two, “Well get into place. Announce to everyone to quiet down and dim the lights.”

They scurried off to do as told and Tamlin and Alis quickly headed for Lucien’s room. Tamlin shoving his mask into his pocket so as to not give Lucien a jump scare when he saw him.

Standing at the outside of their shared quarters, Tamlin gave Alis a sickened worried look. Before he could so much as ask about backing out, Alis smacked the back of his head. 

“You. Will. Be. Fine.” Alis hushed his thoughts. 

“I know but-” She smacked his head again. 

“Tamlin Kali Fairburn, stop backing out and get your man.” She told him. Before promptly knocking on the door for him and running back off to make sure everything was properly down. He nearly shouted after her for leaving him alone but before he could, Lucien opened the door, stood clad in only soft grey sleep pants. 

“Tamlin why are you knoc-” Lucien cut himself off as he looked Tamlin up and down, observing the fine clothes he wore. 

“Hello, handsome.” Lucien purred, a smirk slipping over his face, “Are we off to somewhere tonight?”

“We are actually.” Tamlin said, waves of nervousness coursing through him, it was a wonder his knees didn’t give out and he collapsed on the floor. 

Lucien cocked his head, “Oh? Where too then?”

“Out.” Tamlin answered with, “Somewhere nice.”

“A surprise then?” Lucien lifted a perfect red eyebrow as he crossed his arms, “No hints?”

“None at all.” Tamlin said, a smile starting to slip onto his own face. Lucien was just easy like that, so easy to talk to, so easy to be around. All over again, he was falling in love all over again. 

“One.” Lucien said, stepping forward and putting his hands on Tamlin’s chest, feeling up and up until those slender arms wrapped around his neck, “One hint.”

“It’s closer than you think.” Tamlin decided to say. Before putting both hands on Lucien’s waist, and leading him back into their room, “Now change my love.”

Lucien seemed to consider trying his luck at coercing Tamlin into telling him, but ultimately gave in and turned back towards their closet. 

Tamlin sat back on the edge of their bed, waiting for Lucien to dress. As anxiety still welled in his chest, so did something else. Excitement, pure excitement. God if, no when, he would only say when, when Lucien said yes, a new chapter began.

First the wedding which everyone would want to be involved with, that would take a lot longer than the engagement would. At least a decade before they finished tying to knot, but who was counting the years? They were immortal, they had forever. 

But after the wedding, what then? Obviously what they did now, and ruling their court as usual. Maybe one day a baby or two. Gods, what would they look like? A baby girl, or a baby boy, or maybe both, or just two of one. Who knew, Tamlin honestly didn’t care whether they were a boy or a girl, he would love them all the same. Maybe they would look like Lucien with his flowing crimson hair, darkened skin and flaming amber eyes. Or they would look like Tamlin, or a mix. Oh, a baby girl with scarlet curls and green eyes. Or a baby boy with golden hair and glowing amber eyes. 

“Tam?” Tamlin nearly startled as he looked up to see the light of his life standing dressed before him. In a suit of green and white. He picked out an outfit that complimented Tamlin’s perfectly. 

Tamlin smiled as he stood, walking over, he cupped Lucien’s beautiful face. Before kissing him oh so gently, “You’re beautiful.”

“I know.” Lucien smiled, “So are you.”

Tamlin grinned back, before his eyes quickly lit up and he reached into his pocket and pulled out a gilded mask, in the shape of a fox’s face. He took Lucien’s hands and pressed the mask to him. 

“A mask?” Lucien questioned, scrunching up his nose. 

“Indeed.” Tamlin confirmed as he pulled out his own golden mask and set it on his face. Lucien watched him warily but did as told and put on the mask, taking a few seconds to adjust it before smiling up at Tamlin. 

“Ready?” Tamlin asked, offering his arm which Lucien quickly took.

“Of course, now show me what you’re hiding.” The fox demanded, Tamlin laughed as together they left the room and headed down the hall. 

Lucien kept trying to guess as they walked and Tamlin kept saying no. 

“The new restaurant is having some masquerade event?” 

“Nope.” That place was actually under renovations at the moment. 

“We’re going to the Summer Court for a celebration?”

“No.” As if Norstrus would ever even consider a masquerade. 

Lucien sighed, exhausting his options. A he tried to think of more, Tamlin led him down the labyrinth of stairs, before eventually standing before the closed doors of the ballroom. Lucien stared at him confused, tilting his head as he asked, “What are we doing here?”

Tamlin squeezed his hand, face burning, blood pumping, heartbeat pounding in his ears, as he whispered, “Surprise.”

Throwing the door open, the room erupted into cheers and applause. The music immediately turning back on and dancing beginning once again as if the sudden welcoming of Lucien into the party never happened. 

Lucie stared mouth agape at the scene practically cut from a book was beheld before him. He slowly looked over to Tamlin who was smiling sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“You did all this?” Lucien asked incredulously. 

“With some help.” Tamlin glanced over at Alis who was chaperoning Bron and Hart as they grabbed each other’s arms and swung themselves around and around in circles. 

“And you got Andras to distract me.” Lucien crossed his arms as he accused. 

As if summoned by his name alone, the wolf prowled up behind Lucien. Suddenly jumping out behind, causing Lucien to flinch slightly. Andras gave a grin to both of them, to which Lucien pushed his finger into the older male’s chest, “You got us lost on purpose.”

Andras just held up his rough hands, “I was given orders and I fulfilled them.”

Tamlin shrugged, as Lucien turned his fake furious eyes on him, “Oh so that was an order?”

“I said keep you out until nightfall by whatever means necessary, he’s the one that suggested getting lost in the woods.”

“It worked, did it not?” The brown-haired male leaned back on his heels, shoving his hands into his pockets. Lucien rolled his eyes and Tamlin had to hide his laugh behind his palm. 

“Go make doe-eyes at Alis, Andras, your work is done.” Tamlin clasped his shoulder, the older chuckled briefly. 

“Planning on it.” As he said the words he cast his eyes in the direction of where Alis was playing babysitter for the chaos twins who were getting dangerously close to a table of breakables. 

Andras told them to enjoy their evening before striding off to join Alis, and distract her from her work. 

“How long has that male been courting her?” Lucien asked as he watched Alis’ eyes light up as Andras neared. 

“Five hundred and fifty years.” Tamlin murmured, Lucien whistled low. 

It was no rare occurrence for a courtship, especially one not between mates, to last for centuries, the longest of history lasting millenia. Being Fae had it’s perks, living forever, basking in immortality and lacking the fear of death that mortals were instilled with led for people taking their sweet time in everything. 

Tamlin however, could not imagine waiting that long to finally put the ring burning in his pocket on Lucien’s finger. They had been courting for two hundred years, since Lucien came to Spring. A shorter courtship than Andras and Alis’, but not the shortest for a Faery. 

As the music in the air swirled and the people began to dance a heartbeat quicker, Tamlin looked over at Lucien. All beauty and dashing, charming face with sweet eyes, a soft flicker in that burning amber. His gaze sweeping over the work that had been made up for him. 

Tamlin cleared his throat and Lucien looked back at him. Holding out his hand, the High lord asked, “My Lord, may I have this dance?”

Slowly, the softest smile that the male could have ever bestowed to him appeared on Lucien’s face. He took his hand gracefully, murmuring, “You may.”

With what he was sure was the same smile echoed on his own features, Tamlin swept Lucien onto the dancefloor. And all of a sudden, it was just them in the world. Just Tamlin with his hands on Lucien’s waist, and in his hand. Lucien with his smile and body pressed against his. Tamlin and Lucien moving like fluid through the room to the heartbeat of the music, falling into sync with each other as they faded away from the rest of the world. Becoming a bubble of their own. 

Then the music began to slow, cutting them from the small world they had floated off too. Slowly the music came to an end, looking around they had found the centre of the ball. Standing in a circle made by the hundreds of people present. Tamlin held both of Lucien’s hands in his, as the red headed male looked around, confused as to why the music stopped and everyone was watching them. 

He furrowed his brow, and Tamlin finally took out the poem he had spent so long making sure was utterly perfect. Pulling it from his jacket pocket he felt his face burn from the people staring. But he forced himself to untangle his hands from Luciens as he unfolded the crisp white paper. 

“Lucien Vanserra-” Tamlin started, reading from the top, “You-”

He got no further, as there was the sound of glass shattering echoing through the otherwise silent ballroom. 

A series of gasps unfurled as Lucien and Tamlin whipped around to several glass tables knocked over and shattered on the ground. Bron and Hart, their hands bleeding, atop them. 

The four stared at each other. Bron and Hart too stupidly shocked to say anything besides stare like gaping dead fish. 

“Look out!” A scream echoed, all Tamlin heard was a faint ringing sound before Lucien was jumping atop him to drag him out of the way as the crystal and gold chandelier above crashed to the floor. 

Screaming broke out as people rushed from the shards of glass and metal. Lucien was still atop Tamlin, the High lord quickly scooped his lover up in his arms. Lucien wrapped his arms around Tamlin’s neck, breathing a repeated, ‘Thank god, thank god, thank god.’

Still shaking from the adrenaline, Lucien was only happy he had managed to shove Tamlin out of the way in time. Tamlin cradled the male close whilst plotting all the way he was going to torture Bron and Hart for this. By the time he looked back over to where they had been, they were long gone. But Tamlin had no doubts Alis had simply taken them. 

His thoughts were confirmed by Andras who ran up to him and said, “Alis had Bron and Hart tied to chairs and ready for a tongue lashing. You and him retire for the night, we’ll handle this.”

Tamlin could only nod as he held Lucien tighter and walked from the chaotic scene that had become the ballroom. 

Beginning to head up the stairs towards their quarters, Lucien then threaded his fingers through Tamlin’s hair and whispered, “Let's go somewhere away from here.”

The blond blinked quickly, “Are you sure?”

Lucien gave a sleepy smile, his eyes falling shut as he murmured, “Take me to the meadow.”

Even though every part of his body was screaming in shame from the disaster that just occured. Tamlin smiled at the request, obediently, they were engulfed in a cool breeze. Falling between the pockets of the world, before Tamlin’s feet touched the soft, soft grass of the meadow. Drenched in moonlight. He went down to his knees and laid Lucien out before him. 

The red head looked up and smiled, reaching out his hand, he cupped Tamlin’s cheek, “You did so well tonight.”

At once he drew back slightly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “What do you mean? Everything was a disaster.”

Lucien shook his head, “No, you surprised me, with a beautiful gift. Gave me a wonderful dance. It was Bron and Hart’s stupidity that led to the abrupt end, and I don’t doubt after what Andras and Alis will say, that they’ll won’t do it again.”

“Those two don’t have two sticks to rub together.” Tamlin said deadpan, Lucien snorted. 

“No they don’t, dear.” Shuffling up, Lucien leaned back on his elbows, “So… what was tonight about?”

“Sorry?”

“What was tonight about?” Did Lucien’s eyes always sparkle like that in the moonlight? 

Curling inwards a little, Tamlin averted his eyes, not wanting to think about the cut off proposal at all, “Nothing, just… just a gift.”

“It sounded like you had something to say to me.” Lucien said, in that sly tone that told Tamlin he knew more than he was letting on. 

“Maybe I did.” Tamlin whispered so quietly. 

There was silence, as Tamlin’s heart roared in his ears until there was a faint ringing all around. Suddenly Tamlin felt warm fingers under his chin, guiding him to look up. He gave in and looked at Lucien, really looked at him. 

The male’s face was so soft, so sweet, looking so gorgeous in the moonlight. A blush spread over Tamlin’s skin, hot all over, his heart feeling like it might try to fly away. Everytime they ended up like this, just on the brink of closing the distance between their lips. Tamlin got the same butterflies in his stomach that he got when they first kissed. That never changed, never went away. 

“Tell me, Tam.” Lucien whispered in the space between them. 

It broke, all his resolve, all his care, all his shame and guilt, it all broke. 

“I love you.” Tamlin choked out, feeling like he was being strangled by the air around him, “I love you so much, you’re so sweet, and kind and caring. You love me so much, and you tell me everyday. I want to wake up with you next to me every morning. I want your face to be the last I see every night. I want to be by your side everyday. I want to kiss only you everyday. I want to be with you, only you, only ever you everyday. I want to have a wedding with you under the willow tree. I want to spend all my nights with you. I want to have kids with you. I want to grow into a bitter old man with only you.”

Lucien was smiling so wide, tears streaming, dripping down to his neck and soaking his collar. His hands moved to cup Tamlin’s face. Who hadn’t realised his tears were pouring from his eyes. 

“Marry me, Lucien.” Tamlin finally said, “Please, will you marry me?”

They were both shaking. Under the soft gaze of the silver above. In the quiet of the meadow. Surrounded by only the wildflowers, the breeze and the owls that swooped in and out of the surrounding forest. They were together, in their bubble, taking their time. 

Lucien leaned forward, brushing his lips against Tamlin’s throbbing pulse point. Breathing in the scent. Moving his hands to curl around Tamlin’s own. Moving that hot mouth up to his chin. Leaving a light kiss there, he travelled down again and nipped at his pulse point, kissing again, and again. Starting to map out his neck with his lips. 

The intimacy ran deep. Lucien was calming him down, at the same time fire was stoking in his core. The intensity was nearly too much for him. All these emotions. He was drowning in them. He couldn’t be happier about it. 

“Of course I will.” Lucien cried into his neck, tear of pure joy rolling down his face. “Yes I will marry you, Tamlin.”

Tamlin felt himself shaking all over. He quickly grabbed Lucien’s face and kissed him hard, unable to contain himself. Lucien wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him down on top of him. They both laughed like children as they rolled in the field of grass and wildflowers. 

Suddenly, Tamlin almost thanked Bron and Hart for their disruption. This was what he wanted. Lucien and him, carefree and unbothered. Under the starlit sky in the meadow. In the dirt and down with each other. 

“I love you.” Lucien whispered. 

“I love you.” Tamlin whispered back. 

@tamlinweek

[crownedinmarigolds]

Her head turned at the sound of the door opening. Her beloved Nythanel entered the room, one arm linked with the man of the hour himself: Raymond Mulder. Raymond was a middle-aged hunter of the supernatural they’ve made acquaintanceship with over these last few years as they've slowly laid the groundwork of their Empire. Her Kingmaker, she secretly called him. He was very tall, relatively handsome, though he seemed always exhausted. No doubt were she to take a sip, it would be cheap coffee instead of blood. He was very no-nonsense and took his… community service very seriously. In exchange for helping him with cases, he supplied the ash - or perhaps if they were lucky enough, the vitae - of the kills he and his partner made. His partner in crime no other than her beloved older brother, Joaquin. They both had believed the other dead for nearly two decades, reunited at last... forced to act distant and aloof with the ever watchful though thankfully clueless Raymond acting as Joaquin's chaperone. Tonight the hunter would be giving them his latest loot, Joaquin no doubt sitting in the car again. Maybe Nyth would distract Raymond for her just a bit, and she could slip downstairs for a brief moment… Nyth smirked, letting go of Raymond and walking quickly towards her. In Spanish he cooed, “Joaquin is absolutely pouting down there. Miserable as always.” Of course, her darling knew exactly what she was thinking. He always did. Her hand quickly went to her mouth, covering her smile as she tried and failed to hold back her laughter. It was so exciting to think about Joaquin suffering without her beside him. Him thinking about her and wanting to be with her, tortured by their lack of touch despite being so close again. Their separation renewed her affections like crazy, and it also renewed her absolute delight in him being miserable - at least when it came to their being apart. His loneliness made her own loneliness worth it. It turned the room into an inferno every chance they got to meet. It was like being home in Mexico again… It won’t be so much longer now. As Nyth drew near, her hands reached out. And then, his forehead bloomed.

She felt the impact of viscera against her before she realized what had occurred. The follow up crack of a gunshot rang throughout the room. Glass was shattered behind her, the bullet somehow missing her. She felt a twisting pit in her gut as a silent scream wracked her body, and she tried to rush forward to Nythanel but she wasn’t close enough. Her best friend’s corpse hit the ground like a doll and she wanted to tear herself apart in grief as she stumbled to him.

As if granting her wish, she felt the deep impact of something sharp stabbing into her chest, its aim true as it struck her heart. She had never experienced paralysis before, and she felt panic and terror as her entire body refused to obey. A prisoner trapped behind muscle and bone. She immediately fell forward thanks to the locking of her legs, and landing nearly face down the stake was pushed further inside of her. Every inch thoroughly felt. She wanted to scream and call out and cry at the agony, but who could help her now? Somewhere downstairs was Joaquin, would he even know what happened? Will they ever be together again? She had never expected her spirit to fare well whenever she finally achieved Final Death. Her frozen, outstretched hands landed with a thump inches away from Nythanel, who now was missing half of his stunning face. The eye unmarred by Raymond’s gunshot stared back at her with a milky distance. Her own eyes were held open by the paralysis, and though they couldn’t move she could still see enough. The blood seeping into the vinyl, a blurry form of the Hunter in her periphery.

There was silence. Agonizing silence that made the air thick with awful anticipation. Then she could hear Raymond finally exhale, hear him messing with zippers and making the wait even more unbearable. She wished he had just granted her the gift of a quick death like poor Nythanel. They could be together sooner if he had. But no, he didn’t seem to want to grant her that luxury.

“They are not people. They’re monsters.” She heard him mumble to himself before she could hear the sloshing of liquid and quick steps. There was the sound of an unscrewing lid, the awful and familiar scent of gasoline. Oh God. Oh God. Inside of her body she motionlessly, wordlessly screamed. Her Beast as trapped as she was, it felt like it was trying to rip out of her skin but it was no use. Animal! Animal! You’re going to burn me and I have to watch and feel every moment of it, you bastard! Bastard! It made her entire body want to tremble and shake as she felt the liquid pour over her, the awful scent burning inside of her head, but she just couldn’t. She couldn’t move and it was painful! It burned her eyes and poisoned the inside of her mouth and singed her nostrils. Even with a body not living it soaked and stung and hurt. Her rage was so strong, her terror so real. Not even the stake could hold back the tears she wept as blood dripped down her cheeks and mingled with the gasoline. The gas, the blood, poured onto the floor and mixed with Nythanel’s cooled vitae - its watery black color staining her arms and dress and soaking her She could not look up at his face, but Raymond’s shoes stopped dancing around and the pouring also ceased. She couldn’t even grit her teeth in anticipation for the fire as she waited for the noise of a lighter. The striking of a match. Instead, she got something worse. Justification.

"I…" His voice warbled slightly, he couldn’t even kill them with confidence and it made her sick. Her vitriol was absolute and deep, and she wanted to rip him limb from limb. Dead forever. Obliterated. I hate you Raymond Mulder. I hate you! “We both know what you are. I don't know how much of it is your fault. What is the beast controlling you or you acting on your own. But that doesn't stop you from being what you are, and I'm sor-" In another moment nearly as fast as the gunshot that took Nythanel, there was a thundering and sickening crack as Raymond’s speech was cut short. He landed with a satisfying, dull thud on the floor beside her. His legs were slightly twitching, she could not see his head still, but she could see another pair of legs now that Raymond had fallen. The new person wasted no time taking their weapon continuously to Raymond’s upper body. Over and over again they grunted and spouted obscenities as they hit and hit and hit. Her tears continued as she recognized the voice. Joaquin roared furiously at Raymond’s now lifeless corpse, pulverized like butcher meat. His strikes still not yielding. “You bastard! Motherfucker! How dare you! Bitch! Motherfucker- Fucking piece of shit motherfucker - fucking -” She could not call to him, and in her silent atrophy she waited for him to calm down and work it out of his system. Still forced to stare at bloody shoes and half of Nythanel’s face. Soon the weapon, a piece of scaffolding pipe it seemed, was thrown to the ground and her body was jerked upwards off of the floor. He turned her over, the lamplight directly in her eyes as he frantically looked her over. His face was streaked with blood splatter, his eyes were wild and his hair was matted, one of his large hands pushed her sopping hair out of her face. He was beautiful. “Fucking Christ Noa. Oh Noa-”

Wasting no time, Joaquin leaned in and kissed her. She was covered in brain matter, in gasoline, in blood, in bone, and his lips still desperately tasted her. Her blood red lips would strengthen his affections even more, thanks to whatever quirk her Embrace gave her. He may never let her go now. The moment would have been so delicious were it not for every other awful thing this night has thrusted upon her. The stake, Quino. The stake! Take out the stake for God’s sake! Nythanel has been shot! Free me! There's no time for this! He pressed his body against her and slipped his tongue between her parted lips, and there was a brief moment where she thought he would actually have her here and now. But the wood handle of the stake poked him in his own chest, and he was pulled out of his feverish stupor. “Shit, fuck, okay let me just-”

They both knew stakes didn’t kill, and he tried to be gentle as he wrenched it from her. Her body reacted violently as complete motor functionality returned. She shook and she trembled as if seizing and she let out a loud and inhuman scream, slowly feeling herself react to her brain’s commands again. Her forehead touched to the floor and her hair covered her like a soaked blanket as her fingernails dug in and she felt everything primal bubble up and overflow. She screamed more, and more, and more, and when she was tired of screaming her gaze went to Raymond’s corpse. A pancake for a head now. But it wasn’t enough. That wasn’t punishment enough! “Fucker!” She roared, the words escaping her that she hardly spoke. Vulgar and crass. She leapt at the body on all fours, her manicured nails digging where bone had split skin. Tearing at him and beating him and biting him and draining with her mouth what still warm blood was left, but lacking the real satisfaction of his pain. He was dead, he was no more. Joaquin stole her kill. Joaquin stole it. Her eyes looked to Joaquin who had scarpered to the other side of the meeting room’s table. He was frozen in place, his expression stoic as he waited for her to calm down. He stole everything from her. How much of her now wouldn't be if not for him twisting her and twisting her and- “Noa. We gotta go.” His voice was so gentle. Her body continued to shake, and she wanted to lunge at fresh blood. Giving someone real suffering was so close. She wanted to inflict this agony onto someone else SO badly. “I hate him!” Her voice was ragged, ruined, childish. She was sobbing and her legs were barely able to hold her up. Her Beast like a little girl who couldn’t get her way. The feeling of being utterly helpless. Of true paralysis. Nythanel's injury. It was all her fault. All of this was her fault. Nythanel was hurt and it was all her fault.

“He’s gone now. He's dead. You’re safe. We have each other now. For good this time. No hunters. No family. Us.” Joaquin reassured her, staying back and speaking softly. “You’re safe. I love you. I love you.” He kept repeating I love you, it made her want to collapse. “I- I just...” She looked down at her bloodied feet, saw her best friend, her soul mate, half blown away. Her Beast seemed to roll in on itself as she tried to will it back. There was just so much to do. Her beloved... Maybe there was still time. "Joaquin, we need to call Julian. We need to call the Family. I need to fix this."

[roseyprompts]

masquerade scenarios + dialogue

as what the title says (: feel free to mix and match!

Under the Mask: two characters hide behind a large pillar, ready to take their masks off to reveal who their secret admirer is.

A: Are you ready to see the real me? B: Yes, but I’m nervous. A: Don’t worry, you won’t regret it.

88 Keys, One Song: one character is playing a beautiful piano piece, catching the other's attention.

A: I didn’t know you played. B: You don’t know who is playing because of my mask. A: Will you take it off? B: Not a chance.

The Buffet: masked chefs made meals to be judged by famous food critics.

Food Critic A: I like the chef wearing the peacock mask. They made an excellent roasted chicken. Food Critic B: Are you kidding me? The one with the chicken mask did! He is wearing a chicken mask. Food Critic C: Do you two even have tastebuds? The one wearing the lion mask did better…even though they were using a cookbook.

Lost in Myself:

A: I’ve been using this mask for so long with a new identity I am starting to become this person I’m pretending to be. B: That sucks.

Mistaken Identity:

A: Are you ___? B: No, I’m not. C: But you’re wearing a mask! You can be lying. B: I promise you, I’m not! I know who I am!

[harbingersecho]

WODtober 1 > the Monster in Me

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

Text: Our village worships the Bells. There are ten of them, each with a name, each paired with a saint and a philosopher. I will never admit I am only pretending to hear them.

[depressedgaywriting]

24

Villain leaned against the wall, watching Hero flit through the crowd, a glittering mask over their face. The mask didn't glitter as well as their eyes did when they laughed.

Hero glanced across the room and Villain looked away abruptly, banishing their thoughts immediately. They weren't quite sure which villain Hero was here for, but they didn't care. They weren't jealous. They didn't care.

"Hi." Hero said. "I'm Fake Name."

Did the hero really not think they recognised them? They could pick out their walk in a crowd of a thousand. The way they kept tucking their hair behind their ears, kept glancing at the doors, kept twisting their ankle because they couldn't walk in heels.

"Hello, Fake Name." Villain replied, taking a sip of their champagne.

"You're gorgeous, you know."

Villain almost choked on their drink. "I do know, thank you. You too."

Hero stepped closer, running their hand up Villain's arm. "You wanna take this into the hallway?"

"Actually," Villain said. "I'm spoken for. Sorry."

"Really? Who? Tell me about them." They could hear Hero's curiosity seeping into their voice.

"Their name's Hero." they said, watching as the others green eyes widened. "They're wonderful. They're so beautiful, so smart... and of course, brilliant at undercover operations."

"You know it's me." Hero said slowly.

"Of course I fucking know it's you, Hero." That didn't mean it was a lie.

[buckybarnesevents]

Masquerade

Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Rated: Explicit

Engineer Bucky Barnes, Strangers to Lovers, Flirting,l New Year's Eve, Really good cheese, Excellent Strawberries, Strawberries are harmed in this story, Bathrooms are disrespected, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, or who knows maybe the bathroom liked it, hookup, New Year's Kiss Summary:

Bucky fully intends for his date to this ridiculous required masquerade ball on New Year's Eve to be the cheese platter. Things work out different than he planned.

Thank you, @zenaidamacrouras1 for your gift to our anonymous prompter!

You can check out the rest of our prompts and fills at our AO3 Collection here

[lana7779]

@blackbutlerfanweek / Day 5: Masquerade / Fanart of Undertaker