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False Foxglove & Rafflesia.
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TEE HEE
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have a lil coffee tim
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when youre practicing some references...and your hand goes whoops.
thats it. that's what happened.
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Lady Johanna Lannister and Queen Alicent Hightower🤫
(Requested by @lawolfe)
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I’m SHITTING me and my roommate were watching the new fairly oddparents reboot and when the anti fairies showed up i was like oh yeah. I think i made fanart of them a few years back and i went to check and this was one of them. sory
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zombie girl ! her name is carrie.
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I sat and plucked the strings, I called him in. All his waves, all the tides to the shore. A call so strong, a siren so big, that even the ocean itself is pulled.
Eyes are great spheres with central dots, gelatinous, liquid, strange substances both there and not. Fish eggs, babies seen in the light when held to eclipse the sun. That's what I watched, that's what I called; it wasn't just the sparkling core but the peripheral hagfish expulsions - and those expulsions' expulsions. All the world brought to me, all the limbs held with puppet strings.
I called, he was brought to answering. Fate, mind, thoughts, personality, the repetitive learned states, the state-learning, ideas, future possibilities, the gentleness of flesh, the sharpness of consciousness-bone. Echoes, but simultaneous. Thunder at the same time as lightning, brought together not because one must follow the other but because both were brought together.
I still fail to understand, but at least I understand that that lack of understanding is a willed ignorance born from... understandable things.
There, you said, was the place you last were, just below the surface. When I wake it will be there. This is a Creator's act, a Creator's mind, a Creator's reverence for the Created. Understanding of the Trinity, embodying it. The siren call emanates from the deepest, most fertile underwater volcanoes, the point at which my face presses against the surface.
There was a reason we went up there in the first place. The revelation and self-destruction was wanted all along. Apotheosis, they call it; even those who have reached it need to play this game through again and again and reach it again and again. This is... Old God re-apotheosis, the eyes opening to another truth, more eyes across your scales, more revelatory bliss, and I am that. Nothing is lost when all is lost. All is gained when all is lost. Nothing is lost, all is had. All is had and all is gained.
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"I need them to die in eachothers arms and for it to mean something" then proceeded to make a terrible. horrible punch to the gut
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Toji who leaves hickeys all over you so often that you have to push him away when you start looking like you fought an octopus.
"Toji, you know these aren't always gonna be so small. They're gonna end up looking like bruises. Just look at the ones you already left."
"Mhm," he hums, already leaving another one on your shoulder blade, releasing your skin with a wet smack of his lips. He rubs his spit into the mark like it's some sort of salve that'll make it last longer.
"I'm fine with these," you say, looking at all the one's he left on your chest and below. "but my neck... i'm running out of makeup, baby. I won't be able to cover them if you keep this up."
"Then don't." He would just love that. Despite how nonchalant he sounds about it, it's a highly recommended suggestion. He would genuinely love it if you walked around with his marks all over your neck. People will automatically know that you already have someone you get freaky with.
"I have to go to work sometime. I wouldn't be able to take having my neck stared at by everyone I talk to. No more neck hickeys."
He nears your neck, again. The second you say he can't put another mark on it, he spots a clear area and leans in, lightly pressing his lips against it.
"Tojiii," you whine, leaning forward, away from him. "Leave it alone."
"But, it's clear. It's lonely without being marked like the rest of your neck." He scoots forward again, putting his enormous hands on your waist to pull you close. "I'll be quick. Just-"
"Mm-mm. No," you interrupt, brushing his hands off of you.
"I might just die if you don't let me do this, ma."
"Really?" You raise your brows in disbelief.
"Really," he responds, so confidently.
You scoff. "You're so dramatic. You won't die if you don't get to suck on my neck."
"Who knows? I might spontaneously collapse because of it. Weirder, more unexplainable things have happened."
He's so dumb sometimes. Your hunk is absolutely ridiculous, and yet you find yourself weighing towards his point in this.
"Would marking up that blank space actually cure you?" You feel as silly as him for asking the question.
"Who's to say?"
You tilt your head and deadpan. "Right. I guess i'll take my chances and just keep the random patch of unmarked skin on my neck."
"Hey, that doesn't mean we can't try. Come on, now."
You groan and roll your eyes before making your way back to him. He cups your cheeks, smirking as he looks into your eyes, before turning your head to expose the blank area on your neck.
"It's a reaaally good spot, doll. I think i'm gonna make it."
You huff, unable to look at him because of the way your head is turned. You feel his tongue slide over your neck, the gesture transitioning to his lips kissing the area and then it feels sharp. His lips leave a stinging sensation with every second that they stay on you.
"Ow, fuck, you vampire. It feels like you're actually trying to suck the blood out of me." You wince. "Are you done?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm done." He admires his masterpiece and smirks with pride. You have an entire collar of hickeys that he put on you, and the newest one looks mean.
"You look pretty. Could eat you up, mama." He swipes at the new mark with his thumb, looking at the color that will remain on your skin for the next few days.
"I can tell. You already devoured me. You're insane. Just look at all of this," you say, running your hand over your kiss stained neck.
"I was just nibbling on you," he speaks, into your jaw, before smoothly laying you down, onto the bed. "Just wanted a little taste," he says, taking your hands in his and pinning them above your head. "Am I really insane for that?"
"Um..." you laugh, making your flustered state obvious. "Yes?"
"Damn." He gives you a long, deep kiss, that makes you forget what you were talking about. "You think i'm crazy?" You hum, and he does it again.
"Haven't you played with me enough? I feel like i'm some chew toy for you." You giggle, feeling his lips on your cheek, trailing towards your jaw.
He hums, dismissively. "Found more blank space."
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i think maybe my streak system is a bitttt op...
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GUILT
(HSR MEN X READER) (ANGST)
(GN!READER)
Synopsis: You and Sunday were dating but then you overhear him talking to those who work with him about how you’re just a pawn for his games.
SUNDAY:
Soft footsteps echoed as you walked through the halls of where your beloved boyfriend Sunday lived. Though a feeling of unknown dread crawled onto you as if warning you of something soon happening.
Click. Click. Click.
Your eyes lit up as you heard your boyfriend speaking to those who worked under him and you couldn't help but eavesdrop. The curiosity of how he acted when he wasn’t around you dwelling in your mind.
“It’s simple. I’m using them. They are just one step closer for me to get closer to my goals.” Sunday said with a calm smile, hands gently tracing his desk looking down at the men who were talking to him.
You were confused.
What were they talking about?
“Sir..are you sure? Aren’t they attached?”
“My so-called significant other is definitely attached. Though that benefits me. Much. More. Easier. To manipulate.”
You paled.
He was using you.
Tears bubbled up in your eyes and you held your hand to your mouth to stifle any noises of sadness that were threatening to come out.
Hitching and turning on your shoe you make a dash for it unaware that Sunday caught a glimpse through the slit of the door open with his eyes. His wings twitched in surprise and soon lowered as a disgusting feeling of shame hit him.
It was an oddity for Sunday.
“Oh dear.” He murmured out making his way out to find you.
Synopsis: Aventurine and you dated but when he bets you in a game everything goes downhill.
AVENTURINE:
You catch your boyfriend, the renowned gambler betting as usual. You told him his hobby wasn't good. But as if that would stop him. Eventually you gave up and just let him do what he wanted despite worry filling you each time he pushed a chip forward with his iconic trademark smirk.
“Babe..” You murmur out unease written all over your face.
“Oh! Hey darling~ this man just won’t seem to give up..even after I basically drained his savings. He’s penniless and now putting bets on things he doesn't even own!” Aventurine chuckled, holding his head amused.
“Maybe you should stop? It's getting intense, no.?” You worriedly whisper out.
“Oh no no no sweetheart. Once you go in. You can’t come out.”
“Huh?” You fluster.
“In gambling! What were you thinking of?” His smirk grew and became more toothly as you spluttered but it soon died down as Aventurine noticed that the man he was gambling with was slowly earning his chips back.
“You pull up a tough fight.” Aventurine spoke and you just knew he was going to pull an impulsive move.
“Seems my chips have vanished. What a shame. Yet I do not intend to lose. I bet..my darling sweetheart right here.”
You flinched at his words staring at him with a ‘did you really just say that’’ look making Aventurine smack back into reality.
“Oh..doll wait I didn’t mea-”
He got cut off by you walking off.
Ping! New message!
(AVENTURINE HAS SENT $1,000,000)
Synopsis: Dating Dr. Ratio was nice. Though he puts more time with other matters, neglecting you.
DR RATIO:
You hadn’t seen your boyfriend Veritas in a while because of him either studying, working, teaching others, or doing something other than hanging out with you. You're aware of his passion to join the Genius Society but he can work on that while hanging out with you too right?
You felt left out.
So you decided to make your way to his office excited to see him but also a bit nervous due to the thought of him brushing you away to work on something else.
You knocked.
“Come in.” You hear his British pompous voice making you crack a small smile not hearing it in a while.
“Veritas..” You open the door smiling but it broke as you saw him writing down something in his notebook not bothering to spare a glance at you.
“What is it? I’m quite busy.” He whispered out, still looking engrossed in his work.
“Do..you want to hang out? It’s been a while and I’ve been worried about you overworking yourself. And I miss seeing you.” You blush at your own words staring at him.
Veritas sighed, dropping his pen and rubbing his temples.
“Dear how many times must I have to tell you that I am busy?” Annoyance is apparent in his tone making your eyes droop in defeat.
“Oh. Sorry. I just wanted to ask..since it's been such a long time.” Another sigh left Veritas as he ran a hand through his hair and finally made eye contact with you.
“I’m doing work at the moment so please leave me to it.” He picked up his pen again taking a glance at you but his eyes widened as he saw your vulnerable expression of defeat. You nodded softly and shut the door leaving.
Veritas stared at the door, his heart clenching in what he just did. Guilt poured onto it.
“My lord.” He murmured holding his now aching head.
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ghoap x reader / 18+ mdni / dark themes / prev here / masterlist
Six thirty in the morning might be your favorite time of day.
It’s the before.
Before anyone else comes in, before the morning rush, before the chime of the front door’s bell, before the shop is filled with lines of people, before it all upends you.
At six thirty in the morning, you sit in the back, perched on the prep table, with a fresh cup of coffee. You leave the side door open, screen separating you from the world, fresh air mixing with the smell of strawberry basil scones, cinnamon coffee cake and mini kolaches, fruited with whatever jam you’ve managed to throw together. Steam rises, semolina spills, the sun dawns, and the world wakes… all well after you’ve had your breakfast.
This corner of the city is busy, and the shop always hums like a well-oiled machine in the dregs of a rush, the front counter team churning out specialty coffees and teas effortlessly. It’s cyclical, similar faces every day, morning commuters rushing in and out, locals settling in a nook with their laptops and lattes, people swinging in for a quick bite. You hide in the back, usually, elbow deep in sudsy warm water with your mountain of dishes, answering the occasional shout of 'do we have more of-' and 'just sold the last-'
This morning in particular, cranberry orange scones, pumpkin muffins and mini quiches are the only things left cooling on the speed racks, waiting patiently for their turn to be placed in the display case, an endless cycle of replenishment lasting until the rush dies down, morning fading into afternoon, triple shot monstrosities turning into decaf coffees.
It’s laborious, this routine. Five, six, sometimes seven days a week, going to bed with the sun, rising before it. Your wrists ache from rolling dough, cutting dough, scraping dough. Your back weeps when you lift the bowl from the mixer stand every morning, and your joints fare no better. You need new boots, and new insoles for your new boots, and probably a new standing mat, though you know your boss will never go for it.
You’re tired.
The exhaustion settles into your bones easily today, wearing you down until you’re allowing your eyes to close, wilting atop the butcher’s block-
The shop phone rings.
You heave yourself down and swing through the double doors to the front, scrambling for the classic corded receiver, nearly fumbling it in your hands.
“Hello?” Shit. You always forget to answer with the shop’s name. You’re not exactly the customer facing part of the operation. “Galaxy’s.” You correct and… wait.
There’s no response.
You think you can hear someone breathing, something rustling, but it’s too faint and difficult to make out.
“’Lo?” You try again, but still, there’s silence. It’s an unending moment, you on one end… who knows what on the other, and you hold your breath, straining to hear, to listen.
The line clicks dead in the next second.
Odd.
The shop girl is chewing gum.
You’ve told her a million times not to chew gum when she’s working the counter, but clearly, she’s never heard of norovirus, and you’re not the boss, or the owner, so being the broken record only gets you so far.
“There’s someone out front to see you.” She snaps it between her front teeth, and your molars grind together like stone.
“Who?” You toss a clean towel on the stainless steel table in the middle of the kitchen with a frown. You don’t really get visitors here, most of your friends are in the same industry, and either work the line too late to be up in time to even get coffee somewhere, or are already at work, buried beneath a bain-marie and the never-ending sound of a ticket printer.
There’s dried, caulked dough caked to your fingers, shoved up underneath your nails, and you brush them self-consciously against the ratty old apron stretched across your waist.
The surprise lingers on your tongue, and then explodes when you spot the massive dusky blonde from the other day, the one who was with the guy who split the coffee all over your favorite dress. He’s too tall, and too broad, and too imposing, everything in your sense of self-preservation screaming at you to run when he notices you approaching, gleam of a predator sparkling in his eyes.
Still, somewhere, tucked away, it thrills you, the idea of them, the balancing act, two halves of a whole. He’s etched from stone, strong and steady, while his partner is saporous, vibrant, and riotous, crystal blue eyes sparkling in the mid-day sun.
You wonder what they're like. What they talk about. What they do.
Curiosity killed the cat.
Your skin prickles once you fall into his orbit, immobilized by the molten toffee pooling around his irises. You float for a second, tracing his knife’s edged jaw, the fullness of his lips, imperfect pieces puzzled together to make a masterpiece, and then crash back to earth quickly, realizing you’re standing in front of him… staring.
“Uh. Hi.” What is he doing here? How did he know where to find you?
“Sorry to barge in on you at work.” He starts immediately, wallet appearing from his back pocket like a magic trick. “Wanted to make sure we settled up.” Thick fingers hold a folded nest of notes, and you stare down at them, slowly processing what he means.
Cash?
“Oh, I… I have… venmo. Or we could use apple pay, you didn’t have to come all the-“
“Don’t have venmo.” His mouth tilts, and you go with it, head listing to the side like a wayward buoy. “This is easier.” He pushes it into your hand, peeling your fingers back to enclose the money in your palm, heat sparking up your spine.
“How did you know where I worked?” You blurt, unable to keep it at bay any longer. The question singes, settles uncomfortably in the sparks between you.
“Saw you in the back yesterday, when we were in for a cuppa.” Oh. Suspicion sheds, snakeskin left behind on a cold, dusty trail, suspension of disbelief settling in the back of your mind. Sure. After all, this is where you ran into them last week, on your day off. They do come here.
“Well. Thanks.”
“It’s our pleasure. Hope the stain came out okay.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s… still at the cleaners.” This is absolutely false, but he doesn’t need to know that. The spare bills will probably go towards your energy bill, and the ruined dress will go in the trash.
It is what it is.
“Couldn’t help but notice when I was comin’ through the parking lot that the back door is open.” His voice swoops low, dropping into a rumble, and you blink, lips parting.
“Oh, um y-yeah. I like the breeze.” He shakes his head, a simple rejection, leaving you spinning.
“City’s not the safest right now, yeah?” Oh, yeah. Of course, you knew. Rival factions of organized crime were leaving a red sea of bodies in their wake all over town, a new murder popping up in the headlines nearly every week.
But you were safe. You were fine. Galaxy’s had never been stained with the bloody touch of any of them, and you took it as fact. Permanence.
You agree reluctantly, watching the storm clouds roil on across his expression before evaporating. You shrug, hands clutched in your apron, doubt and skepticism clear on your face.
His expression shutters. His eyes turn cold.
His thumb and forefinger dart through the air, latching onto your chin.
You freeze. You should tug away, jerk backwards, yell and scream and hiss, but all you can do is stand there, caught in a trap and trembling as he leans forward to murmur in your ear.
“Lock the door, little doe.”
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Genshin SAGAU where they hide in the Fortress Of Meropide in order to live a normal life.
not proofread pt2
Creator! Reader who woke up confused in Fontaine. "What the fuck..." you mumbled as you were trying to piece everything together, why were you here? Is this a dream...?
You soon realized that you died in the real world because of Truck-Kun. Now... You have to adjust into this world...
It took a little bit of time to adjust but with the help of an old fisherman living in the mountains who took you in, it didn't take long before you accepted this life.
Creator! Reader who wants to live their life in peace and don't ever want to be found by the Archons or... Any of the main characters for that matter! It'd be a headache if they found out... You didn't want people being overprotective over you.
You wanted freedom...
Creator! Reader who gets found out by the old fisherman as the Creator by accident. You looked at your bleeding hand in horror as it spew out golden blood. The old fisherman quickly grabbed a cloth and wrapped it around your finger.
The old fisherman seemed to connect the pieces together, "So this is why you don't want to go to the city... And why you just popped out of nowhere in the fields..." the old man mumbled. "I- please... Don't tell anyone...!" you cried out. His eyes widened, "Oh! No! Your Grace I would never! But... You're not safe here... There will come a time that you will be found..." The old fisherman sighed.
Creator! Reader who conducted a plan to fake a robbery. The plan was to make it look like you 'stole' from the old man. The old fisherman would report you and you would be sentenced as a thief and banished to the Fortress of Meropide, living in the shadows... Like a ghost.
When your case was being heard, you saw Furina there, that means the traveller hadn't arrived yet... That'll be a problem for you in the future but you brushed it off, promising yourself you'd avoid the traveller like their the black plague.
When you arrived there, Childe was already gone... This was bad... That means the Traveller is coming soon.
It didn't help that you also saw Wriothesley face to face, his observing stare making you nervous... But with how he let you off easily, you don't think he found anything suspicious about you.
Creator! Reader who can't seem to not help Aether and Paimon along with the three siblings, Lynette, Lyney, and Freminet. Always leaving small clues so that they can advance to the story faster, or making sure they don't get hurt or get into an accident. You already knew what the story of Fontaine was but with your current existence... You were unsure if there were some things that'll change.
Creator! Reader who gets found out by Aether...
Your body flinched as he called your name... He knew your name... "You're... Them right...?" He added, you dared not to turn around, getting ready to run away since he hadn't seen your face yet. "You are them... The creator..." he spoke out again, "Please... Don't run away..." he begged as he walked closer to you. You slowly turned around to face him, "...How did you know it was me...?" you asked.
"That... Warmth... That lingering feeling... I felt it. It lead me towards you... I-I thought you were gone, or that you were upset since I hadn't felt you in so long..." He replied as tears rolled down his cheeks, he eventually hugged you, to which you allowed him to. Rubbing his back to comfort him.
Creator! Reader who tells Aether to never tell anyone about you or your existence to which he obliged. You watched everything unfold, from the start to the aftermath of the flood. Everything went well, and not a single soul other than Aether and the old Fisherman know of your existence.
"Everything went well... Neuvillette made sure Furina had an apartment near Palais Mermonia." Aether reported to you, "That's great news." You smiled at him, "Ah! You need to go, people would probably find it suspicious if they found you talking to a random prisoner for no reason." you added to which he nodded, he was about to leave but you stopped him for a moment and gave him a head pat. He was like a younger brother, he blushed and remained standing there for a few seconds, waiting for you to stop.
You let out a small laugh, "Sorry, I got carried away." he only nodded and quickly left, too flustered to even muster a response. You watched him as he left your prison cell.
You then walked towards your bed, looking for your work clothes as you were planning on working again for tickets. You then hear footsteps, you didn't bother turning around as you assumed it was Aether.
"Aether, did you leave something?" you asked, "Aether? You mean the traveller?" you froze... That voice wasn't from Aether... You slowly turned around to see... Wriothesley. You blood ran cold as you stared at him, your mind scrambling as it tried to find words to say.
"You don't have to say anything." He added, slowly walking towards you. "You know... I thought there was something so weird about you... Something about you kept pulling me in and I didn't know why... At first I thought you were just a Fatui spy but now..." he was only a feet away from you now, "I realized that you're them... The creator."
part 2...???
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