you think that you're so alone in the world then you read literature from hundreds of years ago and you realize that other people have always felt this way
these are some ideas i’ve made for my muses, but i thought they’d be nice to share. feel free to reblog!
i. 𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬 — muse a’s new coworker, muse b, has some interesting quirks like having an abnormal amount of knowledge about long forgotten ancient civilizations, a closet of only ivory or white vintage clothes, a strange speaking cadence, and knowing details about muse a’s life that almost no one else knows. they are starting to have suspicions that they might have a stalker, but in truth muse b is their guardian angel stepping in for divine intervention before they make the biggest mistake of their life.
ii. 𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬 — muse a is a huge fan of muse b, a quickly rising new musician with a cult-like fanbase. which is why they can’t believe their luck when they are invited backstage by muse b after a concert. but upon meeting them, they notice things aren’t as they seem. muse b is beautiful, abnormally so, with an uncanny lifeless appearance typically obscured by the stage lights. muse a feels a growing sense of panic and for good reason, they’ve just put themselves on the radar of a vampire that has no intention to let them out of their sight from then on.
iii. 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐛𝐢 — muse a is a priest that has moved into a new city, known for strange supernatural events. they are hired as an exorcist for the only church in town. during one exorcism they accidentally bind themselves to muse b, a malignant spirit who’s entire existence revolves around hedonism. muse a now has an unwanted sidekick of sorts, an ancient being with endless knowledge about the underworld that could help them with the unique creatures they find in this new location. muse b’s ethos is opposed to muse a’s life of repression and religious devotion, and it becomes a test of whether the can resist the allure of sin and stay on their path.
iv. 𝐦𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐬 — muse a has the perfect life— an adoring partner (muse b), loving kids, and a high earning career that would make anyone envious. one day, they wake up to another breakfast made by muse b as usual, but… something’s off. their signature pancakes are painfully salty, then the next day they’re far too sweet. the following week, muse a realizes muse b can’t recall the details of their first date nor the name of their first pet. as time goes on, muse a’s life sinks into disarray while the person they sleep next to each night becomes herder and harder to recognize.
I don't love anyone, Belle and Sebastian//The Reynolds Pamphlet, Hamilton by Lin-Manuel Miranda//The Other Boleyn Girl(2008)//Fleabag, 2x06//@earth-to-mothership //Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, Jewish Literacy//Antigone, Jean Anouilh//Maurice Sendak//Little Miss Sunshine (2006)//The Elektra Complex, @filmnoirsbian //NA
the clacking sounds of his keyboard come to a halt as soon as she utters the first word. there’s silence on his end, waiting for her to continue as his hands rest on the desk.
“more of a nightmare, really, but it’s the same one that i’ve been having every now and then.” his thigh is warm against her temple, unlike the cup of coffee that remains unconsumed in her hands. it’s been five hours since her arrival, five hours of her sitting on the floor beside him while he works away on his computer with no other sound between them other than his typing and vivaldi flowing through the speakers.
“what’s different this time?”
her mind races with images of bloodstained walls, bodies littering the floor - friend or foe, she couldn’t care to know - and them running. running, running, running. the settings shift around them so quickly, grasslands melting into narrow bridges into urban jungles, yet they don’t stop running. the footsteps behind them are constant, bullets whizzing past their heads and angry cries of ‘traitors’ following them wherever they go. they will catch up eventually. he’s going to die. she’s going to-
his hand rests on her shoulder and his touch brings her back to the surface, gasping for air and knuckles white around the shaking mug. she takes a deep breath, in and out until the tremors stop and she feels like her lungs aren’t being restricted anymore.
she looks up at him, chin resting on his thigh and brown eyes pleading.
“you know that i’ll never betray you, right?”
he stares back at her, a perfect mask of indifference.
“what’s different, corina?”
she blinks. not the reassurance that she wants, but he hasn’t made any move to push her away. she prides herself for being the person who knows him best. she can read every movement of his brows, every twitch of his lips and the subtle change in his tone when most see a man of few words and even fewer expressions. she can read him, usually, but this time his expression betrays nothing - and neither does hers.
she stands up slowly and places the cup on the desk beside his empty one. in the five hours that she has spent in his apartment, he hasn’t gotten up to get himself a refill. she remembers how he would raise the cup to his lips long after he finished his drink, not for lack of paying attention or forgetting, but to chase the remnants of the bitter elixir until there’s absolutely nothing left. his little finger twitches, the one on his right hand and the one closer to the kitchen door. he doesn’t notice it, but she does. after all, she’s the one who knows him the best.
they stare at each other for what feels like hours, and then the portrait is ruined when her hand raises slowly until she has two fingers against the middle of his forehead, thumb pointing at the ceiling.
“right about here, 71 grain from a .32 auto.”
sunwoo’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, but it’s enough for her to know that it’s recognition. she’s the only one in the branch, hell, maybe even the entire organisation, to still carry that calibre even if it’s just as a last resort. a little gun for a little girl, they used to say, and while sentimentality does play a part in it, her keltec p32 has never once failed her in the nearly fourteen years that she has had it. it hasn’t felt as heavy as it does at the moment, holstered to her hip under her jacket.
he’s silent for the longest time, a blank canvas for her to project her deepest fears onto. while she’s wholeheartedly convinced that he can never do it, she wouldn’t be surprised if he pulls out his own gun from the drawer and shoots her right then and there. in their world, it’s never a matter of why or how; it’s merely a race to kill the other person before they can kill you. she watches motionless when he finally leans back into his chair and closes his eyes, a serene smile gracing his lips.
“it would be a privilege to die by your hands, corina jung.”
she laughs. she laughs so hard that her entire body shakes and it’s near imperceptible if it’s from relief or fury. she knows what it means to work for the organisation. she knows that there’s a universe out there where one of them will meet their end while facing down the barrel of the other’s gun. she knows that there’s a chance that it might just be this one.
the laughter dies down and she wipes the tears from her eyes (of mirth, she tries to convince the both of them) and takes his empty cup to the kitchen to brew him a new one because she can tell that he’s moments away from doing it himself. because she knows him best. because she doesn’t know how much longer she can stand to be in the same room as him without breaking down all over again.
germansingergirl
gummygunk
origamiaround
