#milfwriter

The lyricist was busy scrolling through her phone, looking at any video that came up in the hopes of getting inspiration. She almost didn't hear the door open but soon afterwards Zoey paused. Huh. The others weren't supposed to be back so soon. Didn't they just leave like twenty minutes ago? She turns around to see who it is, and she can't even hide the sense of deflation that suddenly washed over her.

sunhee hadn't expected celine to call, let alone to 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐄 her to share the gift that she had sent over for her. she's mostly over the awkward 𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂 that had settled over her body as her phone ringing had caught her attention. but, her nerves are still present as she stands in front of the other's door.

she isn't overthinking this. she just dressed 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐑 than she normally would, she just spent close to an hour making sure that her hair looks nicer than it 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 has on stage.

she knocks - and she waits. she tries not to let her nervousness get the 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 of her, in the meantime.

❝hi-❞ sunhee's sure that she had something better to say than just that. but right now, it doesn't come to her. she clears her throat before attempting to speak again.

❝i hope it was okay- i don't really know wine... and nobody really knows which type you like, anyway. i actually didn't know how many types there were... i've never been good at telling the difference.❞

stop talking, sunhee.

"say what? that you won't bite me?"

she's pushing her luck and she knows it. still, ayari continues to push siyeon - it's starting to become her favorite activity.

the spellwork holding time at half speed had helped, but only in the fact that they've been locked away single day to everyone else's eyes, while in reality it had been two and a half by the time the little device beeps to let them know it should be done. it certainly smells better than the last several attempts — finally like something they can understand enjoying.

extinguishing the flame, they don't bother with any safety barriers, simply plucking the pot from its place on the stove, tucking it under their arm, and heading for the doorway. a thick soled boot kicks aside the the warding rune, nose scrunching at the rush of magic that floods the room as everything evens back out. pale fingers tuck a few flyaway stands of uncharacteristically long hair back, snag a fresh empty bowl, and then they're off, fresh meal in tow.

celine’s apartment is familiar by now — at least enough so that they know where to find the last few necessities for setting a place. she'd brought everything but utensils; that particular detail had escaped her notice when she'd been asking celine about her favorites. next time. hearing footsteps approaching, the demon finds words spilling forth in a rush before they can think better: “ i’m sure it's not as good as your mentor’s, but — i did my best. you said it helps you feel better and it’s seemed like you've been so tired lately, and — ” they cut themself off, only to gesture helplessly at the table, where a fresh pot and bowl of doganitang await.

hells, who would have thought that she'd be nervous about this?

For a long time, there was absolutely nothing, which was as close to at peace as Jinu had come in nearly four hundred years. Then he was being dragged back into actual awareness by a set of jaws on his collar. Suddenly he was very aware of all of the senses that had not been there a moment ago, and they all hurt. There was something very big and furry pawing at his chest, and Jinu didn't need to open his eyes to know who.

"Derpy, Derpy stop--" Jinu hissed in pain, sluggishly trying to pull himself up, though that and speaking both immidiately felt like mistakes. His voice sounded like someone had shredded it, and moving only made the all around pain worse.

What the hell had he done to piss off Gwi Ma this-- (the memory hit him like a physical blow, Rumi's tearful face, and feeling his soul leave him all over again) Oh.

Jinu stared blankly at the purring tiger in his lap, vaguely aware of the magpie choosing to roost on his head.

". . . Where are we?"

@shepardsdaughter asked: 🏆💻🎀😍

🐝  *  ―  𝑺𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑻-𝑶𝑼𝑻𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑨𝑾𝑬𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺.

💻 ― excellent writing

@contritioned beating up the air when I say Metric's writing is top tier. I can hear Frank in their writing and just OUGh chef's kiss. Eating their writing all day every day.

🎀 ― all-around kind person

@theflexorcist I love them so much. They are super sweet and I just love talking to them about our babies and just random things for them in their own little universe ;; They are SUPER creative too omg but also #Stebby 4 lyfe

😍 ― admiring from afar

@milfwriter HELLO? Every time I see them on dash, I just have to stop, read, admire, and then roll away giggling because AHHH I love them... We are writing together but I still gotta admire from afar I swear

🏆 ― 10/10 blog, would recommend

@perditus listen like, if you want an awesome multi-muse with Dragon Age and KPDH muses? I love Flowers so much, I've known them since I was over on my other muse and OUGH I love they. Write with them or else 🔫

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⋆˚࿔♫⋆˚࿔ -- Was a part of Rumi still upset? Still angry? Still hurt? Of course. The woman who raised her, who was a mother to her when she had none, out and out rejecting a part of Rumi's identity the girl didn't have control over.

It hurt more than Rumi wanted to let on.

But also, there was a part of Rumi that understood.

Celine hadn't done so out of malice, Rumi understood and accepted that. There was no doubt in the girl's mind that everything had been done in an attempt to protect her. Was it a misguided attempt? It seemed obvious now.

Didn't mean that it didn't still hurt.

But seeing Celine, the woman who had raised her, who had loved her and taught her everything she knew, in tears? Rumi couldn't help but tear up herself. And hearing the words? The apology? The acceptance she was feeling?

It's all the girl wanted.

Eyes met Celine's, Rumi could see the pain swirling in the older woman's eyes. The girl's heart ached. The confrontation before had been so hard on Rumi, that much was true but she hadn't realized just how much it had taken out of Celine until this very moment.

Why here, among a field of the dead? Nothing of this place spoke to her — there were no souls to be claimed, here, no problems needing elimination... so why? The names are familiar, the graves plain...save one, clearly well tended, well beloved, even. The thin path worn into the dirt speaks to frequent visits. A waste of time. The dead could no longer hear the prayers — how pathetic whomever tended this grave must be, to show such dedication to a spirit long departed.

There must be a reason he's sent her here; Gwi-Ma does not call on her unless she's needed...but the air here is still and silent. The wind does not even blow — as through the world itself holds its breath.

A single clawed nail scores a shallow line into the stone of the oh-so-carefully tended grave, marring its meticulously maintained perfection. Whomever "Ryu Mi-Yeong" had been...her mourners would have a new wound to add to their list come their next visit.

It isn't the graves that she's interested in now, though: as she filtered her way through the grave sites, it was a building, a home that drew her eye. A rather interesting locale — isolates and sporting its own cemetery. She knew from hunting them that hunters often prepared their own dead.

Barefoot steps follow a path laid bare from years of constant traversal, approaching the home like a storm, creeping and inevitable.