muse
Stories
7
Chapters
17
Words
19.6 K
Comments
0
Reading
1 h, 37 m
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prompt: the Taos hum (a low humming noise, like a distant bell, or low rumbling thunder in the far distance) Post-canon MDZS; implied past xiyao. Xichen’s not doing too well in this. 3-sentence warm-up for @ficwip’s retreat weekend! Can be read as a prequel to an afternoon together in the rain. – There it is again—the rumbling, a hum deep in the ground that makes his hair stand on edge, the sound Wangji claims he cannot hear, but it keeps Xichen awake until dawn fishing apologies from the…
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prompt: in another life MDZS modern AU, xiyao. References a canonical death. – The sword plunges through his chest and he wakes gasping. “What’s wrong?” Xichen mumbles from the adjacent pillow. Although Xichen’s skin is hot where he touches it, Meng Yao shivers. “Nightmare.” “No more horror before bed.” Xichen’s arms engulf him. Against Meng Yao’s ear, his heart beats. Beats. “I asked you to die with me,” he whispers. “It’s only a dream,…
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They emerged together in a new life as twin saplings in the damp, black mulch. Their seeds had spun down the previous autumn and lodged in the soil. They hadn’t blown away like the others. She was alone with her consciousness, an innate sense of being; she had been once, twice, a hundred times before; so had he; and they had been—together. Without eyes or mouths, they could no longer see or speak to each other and they were too far apart to touch, but beneath the soil, their roots spread and twined…-
1.3 K • Oneshot
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Rose’s seat was the third from the end on a continuous desk that could seat seven, but she was one of only two that morning over her first cup of coffee. The desk faced the back of someone’s monitor; to her right was the senior writer, Ania, who had given her a tour yesterday in a banana-yellow sweater. Today, they wore gray and black leggings and had not looked up when Rose said good morning. Most of the paper’s staff worked remotely. That meant an empty office but no one pressed up on…-
4.4 K • Oneshot
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The ghost was throwing leaves again. Every morning around ten o’clock, it grabbed handfuls of them off of the shrub that grew alongside the parking lot. The ghost had no strength (new ones never did), and so the leaves did little more than scatter across the gravel drive. On a windy day, they might blow into the street as she walked by. Noa didn’t know the woman. She passed by the restaurant at the same time each morning, in pencil skirts or trousers, a leather handbag thrown over one shoulder.…-
6.1 K • Ongoing
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First time I saw her, both of us twelve, I’d never seen such untamed eyes. Other kids said she wouldn’t survive the winter, but I approached anyway. “You can’t have my bunk,” she wheezed when I told her my name. She’d steal from me in our twenties — the ring my parents left me. I let her keep it. She’d sleep with me, feelings ending at skin. Every time should’ve been the last, yet I always crawled back. Now, decades later, her eyes are still cold, but she’s never turned them…-
366 • Ongoing
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prompt: sick of being safe harbor, I want to be the storm original, no warnings Look over your shoulder, look this way. A little farther. I’m the one behind her. But you know I’m here. That’s the worst part. You’ll find me later to talk about it, how she wouldn’t meet your eyes again, you’re not sure what you did wrong this time. With your head in my lap, you’ll gaze up and say I’m so glad I have you, no one gets me like you do! Maybe I won’t smile this time. I could…
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prompt: it’s just us, everyone else is asleep no specific fandom/ship. this was inspired by a VN I just played (Pil/Slash's Paradise) but it can just be read as short horror. ⚠️ warning: this is a Bad Ending! ⚠️ He must’ve passed out after the fourth beer. The campfire was dead, island silent except for the waves. Clouds covered the moon, leaving him blind, but a heavy iron stench sent chills through him. He croaked a name but no one answered. Near his left…
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prompt: love to hate you SK8. tadaai, set toward the end of the first season. I’ve been wanting to write from this POV for a while and now I’ve done it! You asked once what happened during the years you were away. As if the change was due to someone else. As if the Pacific can baptize. As if belated regret means anything. You, my darling, are a burning piece of wood, a crying child. A betrayal. Dog is too good a title, but it offends you so I keep it. I let you touch me so I can…
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She’s got a broom in her hands and is sweeping dirt from the lowest stair when he walks past. Seeing him doesn’t surprise her anymore. When he first went by—years ago now—she felt the shock like lightning in her stomach and in her chest. It was his back that she saw, but she knew him at once by the color of his hair, the deep rust brown that hung past his shoulders, out of style her whole lifetime. The particular motion of his step, always favoring his right leg. An accident when he’d…
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6.1 K • Ongoing
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