#you're kindness itself. so sunflowers

[plasticsandwich]

@secretbenvibes​ doing it to youuuu!!!!!!!!!! flowering u,................

uwahhh i think ill assign u a Sunflower!! they’re very simple yet memorable flowers, and they symbolize all sorts of good things and omens- all of which come to mind when i think abt you :)

Generally sunflowers are seen as a sign of purity, growth, loftiness/ambition & happiness. There’s a lot i could tell you abt them but nothing i think you wouldnt know already smdkfmsdkfs to me, you’re always very kind and reliable, and i think of you as someone who always helps me look towards the nicer parts of life. Its simple, pretty and sweet, all which are traits i associate with you <3

[vewyscawywriting]

Kinktober Week 4 - Overstimulation

Fandom: FNAF SB

Pairing: Sun x Reader x Moon

Wordcount: 669 words

Tags: fingering, overstimulation, punishment

Summary: After you’ve forgotten to tell your animatronic lovers you had the week off, both of them decide you need punishment for your forgetfulness.

You groaned as the lights went back on. Moon had been in a frisky mood, and as soon as he had spotted you in the empty daycare, just here to say hi after one of you security rounds, he had pulled you somewhere out of sight to touch you all over. And it hadn't even started cute like he sometimes would initiate with some kisses, some hugging, maybe even some teasing tickling, no he went straight for his prize; your pants and underwear were down as soon as he had pulled you to a safe spot. 

"Good day to you too, Moon," you said as you realised you were now naked from the waist down,  Moon hovering over you with a shit eating grin, and fingers at the ready. 

 "Naughty little Star," he giggled, voice edged with his signature growl, "When were you going to tell me and Sun that you had the last week off?" 

Oh, that's what you had forgotten. You were a 100% certain you had told Sun at least once, but he might've been in the middle of wrangling some kids, and you had told yourself you'd tell him properly when he'd be able to actually listen to you. And then you'd completely forgotten. 

"I did," you squeaked, but didn't sound very persuasive as Moon already had one finger wriggling inside of you. "Moon, you're really-" 

"Liar, liar, pants on fire," Moon sang, thrusting one long finger in with every word. "For forgetting and lying I'm now going to punish you." 

And what a punishment it was. First you were unsure how him fingering you could be punishment, until you were so close to the edge and you suddenly feared he was going to deny you your orgasm. He didn't. With a growl he told you to come, and you gasped as you did, realising with fear he wasn't stopping his rough thrusting. His other hand had found itself under your shirt, kneading your boobs as he growled against the skin of your thighs. Sharp teeth just rubbing against the skin as his tongue came out to lick up against your outer lips. 

"That's one. Can you keep count for me, Sweetling?" 

And it hadn't stopped at that one, or the one after that, you were already sobbing in the minutes it took for the lights to come back on, sticky and sore as Moon had brought you over the edge quite some times. Relief flooded you as the lights sprung on, but Moon's giggle and the little wave he did promised you more to come. At least being with Sun would grant you some relief from Moon's pleasure turned torture, or so you thought. 

You quickly realised that was not the case as Sun came out, pout in his voice so evident you could've sworn his permanent smile had turned into a frown. 

"Sun, I really told you," you mumbled desperately, weak from Moon's onslaught, and so ready for a little break, but Sun wouldn't hear it.

"I can't remember, Sunflower, and therefore it never, ever happened. My memories are perfect, you know?" He wiggled his fingers, still slick from your juices, inspecting them briefly before pushing you back down onto the little nest that you were in. 

“Please, Sunbun, I need to get back to doing my rounds, my job-“ 

“Can wait,” Sun interrupted, almost sounding mean when he pressed his cool fingers against your clit that was still throbbing and swollen. “Moon had his chance to punish you, and now it’s my turn. It’s only fair!” He leaned down to give you a peck on the lips, but his sweetness was offset by the rubbing of his fingers over your body, telling you he was still being strict with you. Punishment far from over.

His long fingers slipped inside, and you sobbed as you felt you body respond instantly. And really, for all your complaining this was the best kind of punishment you could’ve wished for. It was going to be a long night.

[acupofqueercoffee]

“The moon that chases the sunflower”

Lady Lesso x Female Reader

Request by @anonymous

Hi, I really love your writing style, you're so talented 🥹🥹 I was wondering if you could do a lady Lesso x reader in which reader is already in a relationship with lesso and she's kind of innocent and still a virgin but lesso isn't aware of that so, whenever things become heated between them, reader backs off because she's insecure and she's scared that once lesso finds out about this she's going to break up with reader. When it happens again Lesso confronts the reader and once she finds out what the problem was she's extremely soft and understanding with her and tells her that she's going to wait whenever she feels ready but then it ends with their real first time. If you can make it extremely soft and fluffy, with Leonora being a bit goofy and extra gentle to make reader more comfortable. Thanks in advance, and sorry if this request might seem dumb 😅😅

awwn thank you so much! o(>ω<)o your request is not at all dumb! i’m so happy that you like my writing enough to send something in. sorry for the delay tho (this is to all the ppl whose requests i’ve yet to finish ꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ) anywho, i hope you’ll find this satisfactory dear anon.

───────────────────────────────────

Some instances in life are nothing short of mysterious. One such instance includes that of a sunflower, ordinary except for her deep devotion not to her creator, the sun but to the beautiful, enigmatic moon. To the little sunflower who, since birth, has followed the sun, it is not the sun’s bright golden beam, but the moon’s silvery shine that truly fascinates her the most.

Every day, she chases the sun as it is her duty, soaking in her golden warmth, all the while longing to be enveloped in the silky coolness of her beloved moon. Every night, in a sea of sleeping sunflowers, one stands silently awake, drawn towards the moon like a moth to a flame. She admires from afar the moon’s otherworldliness; charming, curious and unequivocally out of her reach. She envies the stars that surround her beloved moon, watches with a melancholic tilt to her lips as they entertain her dearest with their dazzling twinkles and allures.

Yes. That’s right. Rejoice. Rejoice, for her happiness, after all, is my happiness.

On the very same night that the sunflower has quietly, dejectedly uttered her terrible confession, the moon declares her love for the sunflower. Although it has come as a shock, it has been a delightful shock nonetheless, and crazy in love, the sunflower unreservedly believes her.

You are the sunflower, and the moon, your lover: none other than the wicked and the wonderful, the evil and the enchanting Leonora Lesso.

She is nothing but a delightful bundle of warmth, you learn rather quickly, always kind and considerate despite her cool front and her sharp tongue. She is sweet in the way she cares for you, soft in the way she caresses your body. Her love for you is genuine, unconditional, unmistakably conveyed in her every little gesture, but unfortunately, it is the very fact itself that breeds insecurities.

The woman whom you have been enamoured of after all this time has also been in love with you. Is it not a little too good to be true?

What if she finds out that you are not what she wants, that you are not what she believes to be you? What if she decides that your lack of experience makes you a bore? Worst of all, what if she comes to realise that it has always only been a passing fancy and nothing more? Too many questions and too little courage to seek answers, due to which many a belly-butterfly-inducing moment has been ruined by deeply-rooted doubts that occasionally rear their ugly heads.

A caress of her lips can effortless reduce you to your knees, but every devastatingly delicious moment that has you craving more and more of your lover is always tailed by what-ifs and what-nots. In the face of doubts, you have foolishly done what you do best: cowering away from the one thing that you desperately desire. As absurd as your excuses are, and as frustrating as it must be for her, she has, thus far, released you without so much as a complaint. Understandably, her forbearance can only extend so far, and with another little tug from you, it reaches breaking point.

“I know that I’m not everyone’s cup of tea but alas,…” The smile that touches her lips appears fragile. Meanwhile, disappointment laces the voice that finds your ears as the tentative pad of a thumb traces the bone of your cheek. “…it did not occur to me that my own lover could find me undesirable.”

Leonora Lesso, undesirable? What nonsense is this woman talking?!

You express your denial together with an adamant shake of your head.

“You’re sorely mistaken. I-”

“Don’t.”

The beautiful face in front of you crumples as if you have physically maimed her. Fingers flee your face, silver nails leaving soft kisses along your jaw while a pair of dark stilettos carry your lover two steps farther away from you.

“I can understand if you don’t want me, but do not take me for a fool.”

When you advance to close the distance between the two of your bodies, she rejects you by taking a step back. It is the delicate feel of your touch on her face that makes her hesitate, foxy eyes falling shut as soon as your fingers crawl onto the chiselled plane of her cheek.

“Oh Leo, how can I not desire you? You’re my dream come true, everything I’ve ever wanted and so much more.” Graceful digits, like a snug bracelet, catch your wrist whereas a face, like that of a touch-starved kitten, nuzzles your palm.

“Then, why? Why do you keep denying me?”

“I’ve never desired anyone else in my entire life the way I desire you. It’s a beautiful, irresistible feeling that becomes progressively powerful, but on the other hand, it does not come without challenges.” Your face seeks solace in the little dip of your lover’s throat, voice but a whisper when you divulge your secret. “I’m scared, Leo.”

“Tell me. What is it that you’re afraid of?”

She responds to the tightening of your grip on her coat by enveloping you in her arms. They hold you with so much care and delicacy, and yet, at the same time, her touch is strong and dependable, instantly offering you a sense of comfort and security. Emboldened by the new-found courage, you establish eye contact before answering resolutely.

“Failing you.”

“You foolish girl, don’t you know that I’m hopelessly in love with you?” Your chin is gingerly plucked between a forefinger and a thumb. “As long as I can have you in my arms, I care not for the rest. If it is time you need, I’ll merrily wait for you until you feel ready.” The pink blossom of a smile is sweetly pressed onto your lips, followed immediately by another cottony-soft kiss that is dropped atop your nose.

A beat of silence.

And then, you speak.

“I think I am. Ready that is.”

“Are you quite certain?”

“Have me, my Leo. I want you so bad it aches. Please have your way with me.”

“Delighted to oblige.”

She scribes poetry on your body, the stars that you have envied so much kissed into the very swell of your breasts, clusters of nebulae exploding beneath a mouth so wicked that with every suction and nibble, the dizzying twirls of her tongue has liquid lava pooling in your gut.

Once she finds satisfaction in her craft, her signature stays as a violet bloom on your hipbone. Coaxing one leg over her shoulder, warm lips ghost along the inside of your thigh while her sun-soaked strands softly kiss your knee.

The sunflower has spent the better part of her life gazing longingly upon the moon, always convinced that her devotion is, and will remain unrecognised for evermore, but presently, it is her dearest magnificent moon who has her glittering gaze fixed upon her, admiring the sunflower as though she is a goddess worthy of worship.

Your lover has one arm twined round your waist with her other hand locking around the swell of your thigh, soft flesh yielding beneath her fingertips. Meanwhile, in the sultry green of her eyes, you catch a glimpse of yourself; cheeks sanguine, lips swollen, and drenched in love bites, you look a salacious mess.

“Leo, I-ngh!”

Upon feeling the unexpected flat of a tongue between your folds, your lips fall open in a gasp. Fleeting though the touch is, the vibration from the moan that follows thereupon has your thighs quivering around a head that wears maroon mane like a crown of flaming rubies.

“Oh sweetling, you taste devilishly divine.”

Your eyes are greeted by a cheeky grin, the face of your lover the very picture of a sly fox.

“If it soothes you, my charming princess,…” After carefully unfurling your digits to release the death grip on the bedsheets, she guides your hand to her head, allowing your fingers to sink into her hair. “…do with me what you will.”

Lips stamp a dewy kiss onto your thigh before a mischievous smile finds home on them.

“Bon appétit.” So she drawls in that low sultry timbre, that tantalising tucks on your heartstrings.

You may suppose that it is her consuming you, but little do you know, she is in fact consumed by you, both body and mind, as every little mewl, every little curve of your back, every little curl of your digits amongst her strands, and every little flutter of your walls colour her downright untamed. Despite her irresistible hunger for you, she is nothing but soft and controlled in the way she handles you.

She is your devoted puppet and you, her beloved puppeteer as she dances to your every demand, always heedful of your body’s responses.

By the time your heels dig into her muscled back along with your back arching off the mattress, she doubles her efforts, seeks the little bundle of nerves and sucks it into her mouth, intent on safely escorting you to the highest of ecstasies.

It does not take much longer than a twirl and two of her tongue for you to see stars, thighs trembling helplessly as you fall apart in your lover’s embrace. The eruption of copious juices spills into the awaiting mouth of your lover, and ravenous, she laps it up down to the last drop.

When she goes to lie down beside you, you cosy up into the curve of her body, and all too happily, she receives you, cradling your naked waist as lips pepper warm delicate kisses along the sweaty plane of your forehead.

“You were so good for me darling. Simply exquisite.”

In the gentle glow of the moon, swaddled in her loving arms and drenched in rhapsodies of praises, the sunflower thrives.

────────────────────

[fearandhatred]

Okay okay okay a word for leanne!!!!!

How about "ripe"? 💛

you're so sick for sending me this word right after i wrote my vore poem lmaoo /affectionate. anyway voodoo magic rapunzel plant, anyone?

<3

it would do you well to be happy. it's what aziraphale hears from crowley's mouth most often, and what he repeats obsessively to himself most days now. it would do you well to be happy. it would do you well to be happy.

if water itself isn't wet, is it possible to not gain happiness from being happy? aziraphale would say so. apparently the act of smiling can trick a human brain into actually being happy, but he isn't human, and it doesn't work on him.

still, it would do him well to be happy. it would do them both well for him to be happy, for now.

the humans have a curious little fairytale: a story of a girl with long, golden, magical hair, borne of a magical flower that can heal. rejuvenate. immortalise. they would be delighted to find that something like that really exists. they would be delighted, and then they would weaponise it, as humans are wont to do.

demons too, as it turns out. not so different from humans, just with the added ability to actually create such a thing.

aziraphale isn't exactly locked in a tower, although this facade of freedom that he has might be worse. whenever he leaves the bookshop, free as he is told he is to do whatever he is told he fancies, crowley tells him it would do you well to be happy. remember what i can do to you.

aziraphale doesn't know exactly what the plant can do, magical-properties wise, and he isn't sure crowley knows either. more specifically, he doesn't know what the plant can do for crowley that he doesn't already have. but it wouldn't do him any good to ask. he's not sure he wants to know.

all he knows, and all he has to, is that his happiness fuels the plant's growth. that one day, crowley had, unsuspectingly, took out a piece of him like god had with adam's rib, and somehow tied his essence to that plant. and so it grows from his happiness. and so he dies if the plant does. and so if the plant grows to its fullest, he... well, it remains to be seen. it's just a little give and take, except it's all parasitic with no benefits.

it started with a seed, then a stem—just one—and a flower. it grew slowly, an inch every few years, and now the flower has bloomed. it isn't over yet, though, crowley told him. that's how he phrased it. not the plant hasn't fully grown, but it isn't over yet.

then, in the middle of the thriving, deceptively sunflower-yellow petals: a fruit. green with immaturity, inedible hardness. it won't always look like this, crowley told him, as if he were really the mother to a young and ignorant daughter, unknowing of how any of the outside world functioned. but they both knew better. i know, he said back, and smiled.

it's uncertainty that's more agonising than anything, even the certainty of agony. the last few days—there is no timeline to the growth of a magical one-of-a-kind plant, but anticipation brews in accordance with the law anyway—buzz with a flat sort of curiosity, morbid on aziraphale's part, or maybe the both of theirs. that depends on how much crowley cares about what happens to him. still, or maybe because of this, he goes about his day as he always does. when he comes back in for the final time each night, he casts a glance over to the plant by the fireplace. he's trained himself to look only once a day, only then, as if the plant is an inconsequential part of his life. each night there's nothing, and he's relieved, and disappointed.

he doesn't sleep, but he does retire, and it's a perfectly normal morning when he leaves his room to the faint aroma of tea awaiting him below. he pads downstairs and sits next to crowley on the couch, where he's slid a cup of tea across the small round table. steaming hot and with a cube of sugar, just how he likes it. when he looks up to murmur his thanks, the look on crowley's face stops him short. it's nothing out of the ordinary, the same golden eyes and face lines, save for the barely-there, malevolent smirk. aziraphale isn't stupid. he looks over at the plant.

and oh, look. the fruit is finally ripe.

[acaiasahi]

✶ colors and clouds ; hwang intak.

synopsis. under a full sky of clouds, you and intak express which color the other would be.

info. fluff. hwang intak x gn!reader. 694 words.

warnings. mentions of kissing, cuddling, physical touch. proofread-ish, lmk if there's anything else!

[ ★ . . . dm by fromis_9.

the soft music playing from the car's speaker further immerse you as the soft breeze whips your clothes around.

"if i were a color, which one would i be?" intak randomly asks. the question catches you off guard but you happily respond nonetheless. your eyes never leave the puffy white balls of fluff as they sway within the sapphire sky.

you hum to indicate that you're in thought before replying, "probably yellow, but not like a goofy, crayola yellow. more like a sunflower yellow?" the way your voice goes up an octave towards the end tells intak that you have more beans to spill.

he laughs lightheartedly, "okay... and why that specific color?" he asks, voice warmer than a cup of chamomile tea. you shrug with a giggle, small smile gracing your face as your eyes trail over to him.

there he lays comfortably, hand resting behind his head whilst the other lays flat on his chest. his zip-up hoodie and beanie combo making him look cozy, so much so that you can't help but lay down next to him in search for his warmth. he happily takes you in his arms, smiling at the way your head snuggles into his chest.

"you're so bright, takie. so mellow and homey, you just radiate so much love and warmth. kinda like the sun," you say with a chuckle. you feel his chest rumble as he chuckles in acknowledgment to your heart-fluttering explanation.

you wrap your arms around his torso, pulling him in closer as he rubs your forearm lovingly. "y'know how sunflowers always face the sun?" you ask, this time you catch him off guard with your own question.

deciding to not wait for his answer, you beat him to speaking. "i guess you could say i'm the sunflower, while you're the sun. i can't help but be drawn to you."

your words hit him right in the chest, that warm, fuzzy feeling you just described him as beginning to spread throughout his body as he smiles shamelessly up at the clouds.

"what about me, what color would i be?" your tone light and full of fun. you raise your head off his chest, detangling yourself and keeping your body up by your elbow, wide grin on display as you excitedly await his answer.

intak taps his index finger on his chin, eyes looking everywhere but you as he pretends to think. "kind of specific but a rosey pink, like a blush pink..." he trails off. his eyes are drawn back to, "y-you're just so... pr-pretty," he stutters over his own words just by making eye contact with you.

you smirk at his sudden confession, "why thank you, intak!" tone practically dripping with mischief. "for the record, i think you're pretty too."

the same pink he described you as dusts itself onto the apples of your cheeks as you lay your head on his chest once more. you feel intak's hand reach for yours before interweaving your fingers. he brings up your interlocked hands to his lips before leaving a soft kiss on the back of it. he brings your conjoined hands back down to rest them on his chest comfortably.

without the need of any other words, you lift your head off his chest, turning it and coming face to face with the constant soft rise and fall of his sternum. you place a loving kiss right where his heart should be before laying back down on the exact spot your lips once lay. he's like your own personal pillow, and a very cuddly one at that

you hear how his heartbeat quickens upon the sickeningly sweet action, bubbles of laughter seeping past his lips as he gives the top of your head a soft peck.

"don't be nervous," you whisper out. the wind carries your sweet tone into his ears, "you have no clue what you do to me," he says breathlessly. "your heart's such a dead giveaway."

★ piwon taglist. @kflixnet ... @k-labels ... @enhacolor ... @seung-scrittore ... @existnesia ... @i-luvsang ... @chelle ... @luvyoonbot ... @17milktea ... @imhuh

[ 🎧 ] jaydi's notes. being completely silly goosey goose, i don't like this but what i do like is intak so u can't blame me. i literally wrote this while waiting for my game to download on my ps n i still have 40 mins left to go 😭

© acaiasahi 2023 all rights reserved. copying, translating, and reposting is prohibited.

[wickermayne]

1, 8, 22, and 23? For fic writer asks!

Thank you for the ask Days! ❤️

How old were you when you started writing fic?

The very first fic I ever wrote (long since been deleted 😅) was when I was 12 years old. I wrote about 4 fics between 12-14 years old and then never wrote anything until I was 24, and I've been writing since.

8. What's the best summary you've come up with?

My summaries are nothing special, I tend to lean on using quotes from my fics. Sometimes I'm just like "This is smut!" 🤣

But I'll choose these two.

Bruises: The war is over, and they can't keep their hands off each other.

Things that Moan in the Night: You've moved into a new apartment and it's spacious, the rent was cheap, and your neighbours, Naruto and Hinata are so kind! There's just the one issue that the walls were thin, and sound passed through from your neighbours apartment into yours. That shouldn't really be a problem though...right?

22: Pick out a random line from a fic you're really proud of

From Drunk in Love: And it was such a lovely spring day, with a gentle breeze. The cherry blossom trees fully bloomed, their petals drifting to the ground like confetti, like the Earth itself was congratulating them.

Congratulating Naruto and Hinata for their marriage, wishing for a long life together for them.

I like pretending I can be poetic at times 🤭

23: What's the most personal fic you've ever written?

This question is a bit hard for me to answer since I don't really reflect my personal experiences into my writing, it's more a reflection of what I want to see happen for these characters. Maybe I would say Sunflower (Naruto/Ino fic) because of the intimacy I grew for the characters.

Fic Writer Asks Questions

[sicknessbysalem]

Novemetober (Rescheduled) | Day One

alternative prompt: unconventional receptacle (replacing sharing a receptacle because i’m bad at multiple sickies)

@monthofsick

tw emeto, fever, underage (16) caretaker

*not a kink based work*

this is my first time doing one of these challenges and im so excited!

Emiliene was already running behind when she stepped foot into La Dolce Vita.

When she got the call from Giovanni asking her to come in, she had barely escaped the diner on Main Street.

She had gotten off two hours later than anticipated, and Emiliene felt awful when she clocked out.

At first, she had wondered if maybe, just maybe, it was nothing more than working too much. She'd had a busy week work wise, every place she worked at either wanting her to work an extra shift or keeping her after she was scheduled to leave. Not that she cared. They needed the money.

So, Emiliene accepted, despite feeling like she wanted nothing more than to just go home and probably go to bed.

She was still typing up her signature sunflower bandanna as she walked into the kitchen.

"What's up, sunflower?" Giovanni's annoying son, Enzo, said, looking up from the stovetop, winking at her, "Glad you could show."

Emiliene feels his stomach seize, and she gags behind closed lips. She didn't know where it came from, but right now she couldn't care. At least, her and Enzo had the kind of relationship where any outward signs of her gagging could just as easily be passed off as a joke.

"Who's head chef tonight?" Emiliene asked, swallowing down an acidic taste in her throat.

"That would be you, princess," Enzo commented.

Catalina scoffed from the doorway that separated the dining area from the kitchen, an empty tray in hand.

"Cut the shit Enzo, you'll make the poor girl vomit," Catalina said, "I would if I was her."

Emiliene had to swallow again. She really wanted to vomit, but not because of Enzo.

"So, I'm on," Emiliene said, "No problem."

Emiliene tried to push through the discomfort, determined to fulfill her duties as head chef for the night. She moved briskly around the kitchen, prepping ingredients and coordinating with the kitchen staff.

Emiliene took a deep breath, trying to steady her uneasy stomach. She focused on the task at hand, pushing the discomfort to the back of her mind.

"Alright, what's on the menu tonight?" she asked, looking over at Enzo, who was stirring a pot on the stove.

“I mean, you could be on my menu tonight,” Enzo proposed.

Emiliene gagged, this time hard enough to cover her mouth. Catalina snickered, at least the waitress seemed to think Emiliene was doing it for show.

“That’s not what I asked and you know it,” Emiliene commented after swallowing again.

"Specials are lasagna and chicken piccata," he replied, his eyes narrowing as he observed her, "You sure you're up for it, Em?"

"I've got this," Emiliene reassured him with a weak smile, her hand resting on her stomach for a moment.

Enzo noticed, but in true Enzo fashion, simply took it as another opportunity to take a shot with her, "Maybe you just need a little Enzo magic to make you feel better."

Emiliene shot him a sharp glance, suppressing another wave of nausea. "I think I'll pass on your magic, Enzo."

As the night progressed, Emiliene's condition deteriorated. The bustling kitchen became a challenging battleground for her queasy stomach. She fought to maintain her composure, but the strain was evident on her face.

Catalina approached Emiliene with a stack of dirty dishes. "You're looking worse by the minute. Maybe you should take a break."

"I can handle it," Emiliene insisted, her voice strained.

"I never said you couldn't," Catalina said, "I said, you should take a break."

"I'm fine, seriously just stop-" Emiliene started. But before she could finish her sentence, she felt something in her throat.

Emiliene grabbed a cup off of the tray, dumping the ice into another empty cup. Before she heaves into the cup itself. A thin stream of her lunch splatters into the cup, and then another one, one that barely stays contained in the cup.

Catalina grabbed Emiliene's shoulders, leading her to a trash can.

Emiliene braced herself, heaving into the trash and spilling more of what she ate that day into the bin

Catalina held Emiliene's hair back as she emptied the contents of her stomach into the trash can. Emiliene's face turned a shade paler, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. The kitchen staff paused momentarily, glancing in her direction, their expressions a mix of concern and sympathy.

Enzo glares at all of them, and everyone else gets back to work.

Emiliene heaved again, her breathing shaky and labored as the vomiting finally died down.

Enzo walked over with a concerned look on his face. "Sunflower, you don't look so good. Maybe you should sit down for a bit."

Emiliene, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, "I told you, I'm fine."

Enzo's playful demeanor faded, replaced by genuine concern. "Seriously, you need to take a break. I can handle the kitchen for a bit."

Emiliene hesitated, her pride warring with the discomfort in her stomach. Catalina chimed in, "He's right. You're not doing anyone any favors by toughing it out. Go take a break."

Emiliene reluctantly made her way to the break room. She sat down at a table, folding her arms and resting her head on them. She felt so dizzy and exhausted, she needed the moment to just breathe.

She heard the sound of the trashcan being dragged a little closer, and before she lifted her head she heard a glass being sat down in front of her head. She looked up, and in front of her was a glass of water.

Enzo stood beside her, rubbing her back, "Here, drink this. It might help settle your stomach."

Emiliene took the glass, sipping the water cautiously. The cool liquid provided a momentary relief.

As Emiliene sipped the water, she could feel the coolness soothing her throat. Enzo continued to rub her back in a comforting rhythm. The break room offered a temporary sanctuary from the chaos of the kitchen.

Enzo, usually known for his cheeky remarks, spoke with a genuine concern in his voice. "Sunflower, you need to take care of yourself. We can handle the kitchen without you for a little while."

Emiliene managed a weak smile, appreciating the unexpected kindness. "I just need a minute, Enzo. I'll be back out there soon."

But as she spoke, a sudden wave of nausea washed over her, and she felt the familiar churning in her stomach. She placed the water glass down and clutched her stomach, the room spinning around her.

She swallowed thick, one hand clutching the edge of the table so hard her fingers turned white.

"Emi, are you okay?" Enzo asked, worry etched across his face.

Emiliene's response was interrupted as her body betrayed her once again. This time, the sickness came more forcefully, and she doubled over, retching into the trash can. Enzo, quick to react, held back her hair, offering what little comfort he could.

"Easy, Sunflower. Just let it out," he said softly.

She heaved harder, everything spilling out of her without much effort. After a moment, she leaned back, taking a deep breath.

"Thanks," she mumbled, feeling a bit weak.

Enzo handed her a tissue and gave her a reassuring smile. "No problem. You don't need to rush back out there. Take your time."

-

Camille's phone buzzed in his pocket as he sat on his friend Jackson’s bed.

“Everything good?” Jackson questioned.

Camille shrugged, “My aunt’s calling…”

Camille answered the phone.

“Hey Aunt Cat, is everything alright?”

"Your sister's not feeling well,” Catalina said, “Poor girl’s been throwing up now for at least half an hour. Can you come pick her up from the restaurant?"

Concern etched across his face, Camille replied quickly, "Of course! I'll be there right away."

“Your sister?” Jackson asked.

Camille nodded, “Apparently she’s sick at work. Can you drive me to the restaurant?”

“Yeah sure,” Jackson said, “Let’s go.”

As they arrived at the restaurant, Camille's heart raced with worry. Catalina met him at the entrance, guiding him to the break room where Emiliene was resting. Enzo hovered nearby, looking genuinely worried.

"Emi, are you okay?" Camille asked as he approached her, his eyes filled with concern.

Emiliene managed a weak smile. "Hey, Cam. I'll be okay. Just a stomach bug."

Camille knelt down beside her, a protective brotherly instinct kicking in. "Do you need anything? Should I take you to the hospital?"

Enzo chimed in, "I think she just needs to get home and rest. We've got things covered here."

“Give me the keys Em,” Camille said, “I’ll drive us home.”

Emiliene sighed, “I’ll be fine to…”

Emiliene lurched forward again, spilling more water and possibly some of her breakfast or dinner the night before into the can.

“I can sent a to go box?” Enzo suggested, looking at Emiliene and then Camille.

“Sure,” Camille shrugged, not even questioning it.

Camille took the keys from Emiliene, giving her a reassuring look. "I'll take care of the driving."

As they made their way home, Emiliene's stomach continued its protest. The car ride became increasingly difficult for her, each bump and turn threatening to unleash another wave of nausea.

Camille glanced at her, concern etched on his face. "Hang in there, Emi. We're almost home."

Emiliene nodded weakly, but the queasiness persisted. She clutched the to-go box Enzo had thoughtfully provided, hoping it would be enough to contain any further discomfort.

The car slowed to a stop at a traffic light, and Emiliene's breath quickened. She felt the familiar sensation building up in her stomach, and before she could react, she reached for the to-go box.

Her head was spinning, her stomach was seizing, Emiliene barely had time to open the to-go box before her body rebelled once more. She leaned over, vomiting into the container. The smell filled the car, and Emiliene's face turned an even paler shade.

"I'm so sorry, Cam," she managed to say between gasps.

She threw up again, she felt something warm and liquid on her legs, seeping through her pants.

Camille, undeterred, grabbed a few tissues from the glove compartment and handed them to her. "It's okay, Emi. We'll clean it up when we get home."

The traffic light turned green, and Camille accelerated, determined to get them home as quickly as possible.

Once they arrived home, Camille helped Emiliene out of the car and into the house. He guided her to her room, offering a sympathetic smile.

"Go get changed and get comfortable. I'll take care of the car," Camille said, trying to be as reassuring as possible.

As Emiliene changed, the queasiness returned with a vengeance. She barely made it to the bathroom in time, grateful that Camille had been considerate enough to give her some privacy.

After a moment, Camille knocked on the door. "You okay in there?"

Emiliene, wiping her mouth, nodded weakly. "Yeah, just give me a minute."

Camille went outside to deal with the aftermath in the car. He tossed out the soiled tissues and disposed of the to-go box. Despite the unpleasant task, he couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility for his older sister.

Inside, Emiliene finished changing and splashed some water on her face, hoping to feel a bit more refreshed. However, as she glanced at herself in the mirror, another wave of nausea hit her unexpectedly.

"Oh, not again," she whispered, leaning over the sink.

She gagged, coughing up a few mouthfuls of acid into the sink, leaving the water run. The discomfort passed, leaving her feeling drained but somewhat relieved.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Camille was waiting with a sympathetic expression. "Feeling any better?"

Emiliene managed a weak smile. "A little. Thanks for taking care of me, Cam."

Camille grinned, ever the protective little brother. "It's what I'm here for, sis. Now, why don't you rest? I'll grab you some water. You just need to take a break…”

Emiliene nodded. She was exhausted, and definitely embarrassed that she needed her little bother to take csre of her. But, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

[josephquinnswhore]

Eternal Destiny

Chapter 2 - Bound by Destiny

Pairing: Prince Oberyn Martell x fem!Reader

Summary: You know better than to defy your destiny, but when you're threatened not to pursue the man further, you're stuck on what to do.

Word Count: 2.4k

From the moment you woke up your attention was drawn to an irritable itch on your arm, the tingling sensation had been replaced with an irritable ache as you had dismissed the tingling feeling, having your head stuck in this menu for the wedding, which was a mere 9 days away.

Your eyes scanned the small half-circle, small black lettering on your forearm just shy of the crease near your inner elbow, 118.0006 * W. Co-ordinates? You couldn't figure it out without the other half, having a suspicion the man from the markets could have the other half. You sigh in exhaustion, thoughts of anxiety kept you awake most of the night, wondering how you could ever pull all of this off. You unplug your phone from its charger and pull up your best friends contact, she picks up after two rings, "hey Jaide, wanna grab a bite?" She laughs over the phone, the noise welcome to your ears, "you know I'm always down to catch up, I'll meet you at yours give me 30." "Kay see you shortly." You end the call and get dressed, a yellow sunflower dress that hugged your figure perfectly, you decide to braid your hair and tie it in a bun, sliding a pair of black wedges on your feet before brushing your teeth. You hope this would give you a peace of mind, a blank state to help you concentrate.

A knock on the door finally indicates that Jaide is here, you stand swiftly with your handbag and throw it over your shoulder, you swing the door open, and your eyebrows pinch together when the doorway is empty. "Jaide?" You poke your head out and walk outside a few steps, "hey." You jump, startled at Jaide's voice as you see her walking 10 feet from you, she's smiling until she sees the frown on your face. "Is everything okay?" You bite your lip in uncertainty, "yeah everything's fine. Probably some kids playing a prank knocking on my door." You lie to her, an uneasy feeling settled within you, and you decide to bury the feeling as you lock your front door.

"Hey, maybe it's that handsome guy from the markets you've been texting me about. Maybe he chickened out last second." She grins, her shoulder knocking yours playfully. You scoff, "I doubt I'll ever see him again, and he gave me this weird marking." Jade looks at the black mark on your arm. "Maybe it'll lead you to him." You snicker, "how can I find him with half the co-ordinates, Jaide?" Realization sets in her face and you both burst out laughing as you walk up to Ed's restaurant, "Eddie's House." I know, not super creative, but it didn't need it be. It was authentically Ed and the food spoke for itself.

"Hey Tab, Jaide. What can we start you off with drinks this morning?" The waitress asked. "Spare the formalities Eb, I'll just grab a lemon lime bitters yeah, make sure to put in the lemon slices for me." She smiles taking down your drink, "I'll just get a glass of cola, thanks Eb." She smiles and closes her notebook. "Be right back with that for you guys." You turn to Jaide, "what're you thinking for food?" Jaide eyes you, you both order the same thing off the menu every time you come to eat. "You didn't just invite me to lunch to eat, did you? Somethings wrong." You sigh putting the menu down on the table and stacking them for Eb to pick up when she comes back. "I dunno." She puts a hand on your own and you look up to meet her eyes and kind face, "you can talk to me, or not. I'm here for you Tab." You sink into your chair further, feeling more guilt creeping under your skin. "It's just this wedding and the man from the market, it's a lot of pressure to uphold you know? I don't know what my destiny is, I'm going in so many different directions I can't keep up."

"Oh hun, we'll work through it okay? We will work this out." You offer a small smile, some weight lifted off your shoulders as you vented to Jaide. "Here you are, lemon lime bitters with lemon slices, glass of cola for you. What are we thinking for our meal ladies?" She looks between you and the three of you laugh, "right so the usual then. Steak medium rare with mash and veg for Jaide, slow cooked duck ragu pasta for Tab. Expect to wait anywhere from 15-20 minutes."

"Thanks Eb." You praise, your stomach rumbling, creating a harsh ache at the thought of that slow cooked duck ragu.

You sip on your drink; the acidity tickles your throat with bubbles as you swallow. "Tell me more about him, I need to know more about this mystery man!" You huff out a chuckle and sigh at the mere thought of him. "He was so handsome, he has these dark brown eyes that were just staring into my soul, you know? Like he really saw me. He was so kind, offered to buy me a drink, but i had to decline. I know, I know." Jaide's face was scrunched up, not impressed by you turning down the man destiny had offered you. "I had to get to work, and plus, he bought me another one exactly how I like it, right here."

"Sounds like he's into you." Your heart leapt at the thought, would he like you? He's all you could think about, was it the same for him? You kicked yourself for at least; not getting his number.

He did think of you, since he met you, he was distant, unreachable and not reciprocating to his girlfriend, Elliara. She didn't notice it at first, the small half circle mark that had appeared on his forearm. She was furious, after bearing him 8 children, he would still consider abandoning them for someone he had just met.

"My love." Her fingers dig into his tense shoulders, trying to relieve some tension and get him to relax, "you're so tense." She begins kissing his neck and down his shoulders, "let me help you relax." Her hands begin to wonder down his chest, and he pulls away, standing to stare down at the town below through his diamond shaped window. "Not now. I've got a lot on my mind." Ellaria scoffed and he turned to face her, "are you too busy thinking about a girl you've met once for five minutes Oberyn? I'm your wife, I've given you 8 children." Oberyn sighs, running a hand down his face, frustration peeling the layers of his patience back, his gut bellowing at him to defend you. "She's a woman Ellaria, not a girl. If we're being precise about things, you're my girlfriend, the King never approved of us being wed." Ellaria's face ensembled unfiltered rage, she was furious. "Okay Oberyn." She takes a deep breath, forging her calmness. "I'll return soon." Walking out infuriated as she was met with silence.

She ended up walking through town, her elegant gown catching eyes of the public and dares to catch her reflection in the glass mirror of a building when she sees it-you. The reason her partner wants to leave her, she knows she has to take her opportunity now or she faces losing everything. You're pointing to the mark on your skin, identical to Oberyn's but different writing and numbers, showing it off to your companion with a smile.

She decides to walk in through the door, your head unflinching as she the bell chimes, signifying a customer. A young girl walks up to her with a smile and leads her to a small table with two seats, "I'll be right back with a menu." She grips the young girls wrist and it halts her, "I'm not here for the food sweetheart, I'm here on business. That woman over there, could you mind notifying her I've asked her to join me for a moment?" The waitress hesitates before looking over at the table, "Uhhh sure. I'll be one moment." She walks to the table only a few feet away and you turn around to look at the waitress before muttering a few words to your company before strutting over to where she sat. "We need to talk." She states firmly and you raise an eyebrow, "we do?" She only hums and nods her head, gripping your wrist and digging her fingernails in. "Stop looking for that man, understand? He's married with children. His destiny is with me, his wife." You frown, your heart falling past your ribcage and settling in your stomach, disappointment and heart aching over someone you never had, ignoring the crescent shaped indents in your skin this lady had left in your arm. "I-I didn't know." She sneers, "now you do. Come looking for him and I guarantee you'll regret it." She swiftly leaves, exiting before anyone can ask what happened.

"Hey, you okay?" Jaide places a hand on your shoulder, standing next to you. You simply shake your head, and she looks at you, pitying you. "Let's get you back home okay? Get this off your mind." You sigh in defeat, Jaide places a hand on your back and it stays there until you get back to your house. She looks through your notes on what the options are for the menu, "let's start narrowing down the entrees to begin with, okay mu-" "He's married." Jaide stares at you in shock, you're rubbing the mark with your fingers, tracing it back and forth. "With children." Her mouth drops and sits beside you, rubbing your back hoping to offer some comfort. "Oh, Tab. I'm sorry hun." You shrug sadly, "it is what is it I guess, let's get to finalizing the menu." She hands you the notepad that was littered with your scribbles, "so, I know they didn't specifically ask for Vegetarian option, but I'm seriously considering the mushroom risotto for 1st Entree." Jaide groans in agreement, "good god I still remember the first time you cooked that for me, it was heaven." You scoff at her, "it was the first time I ever cooked mushroom risotto, I've perfected it since." She hums, thinking about it has her stomach rumbling, making spare room for the delicacy. "Say, how about you cook it, you know, just so we can sample it before you offer it to them." Jaide shrugs nonchalantly, as if the thought of your food didn't have her mouth salivating. "Right," you say skeptically with a smirk, "let's get to it then." You swore you heard a moan leave Jaide's lips.

You set the mushroom risotto on the table before Jaide's seat and your own, shaving some fresh parmesan on top. "Go ahead and taste it, miss connoisseur." You offer, holding your hand out. She doesn't need to be told twice as she digs her spoon into the dish and stuffs her face with it, eyes closing and licking her lips after swallowing. "God that has to be on the menu." You sit and begin to eat, Jesus, it's fucking incredible you truly surprise yourself sometimes. "I'm glad you think so," you reply earnestly. “You know.. maybe you’ll run into him.” You drop your spoon, the metal clinking onto the porcelain loudly. “Jaide..” “Tab, you’re my best friend I have to have hope that guy is out there thinking about you too, I can’t stand to see you so miserable.” She’s right, you’re moping and she’s trying to help, you were grateful to have such a thoughtful friend. “Yeah, maybe I’ll see him around, thanks Jaide.” She offers a smirk and looks at your half-empty or as Jaide sees, half full dish of risotto. “Take it, I won’t finish it.” She cheers loudly and you both laugh, “I could always make up a few batches you know, put them in takeaway containers.” Jaide a eyes light up as she’s scooping the risotto into her mouth, with her mouth full of food she gasps, “you would?” Her voice muffled at the fullness of food, “for you, yeah, course.” “God you’re a saint anybody ever tell you that?” You roll your eyes, admittedly loving the compliment, “hmm, a few. Just waiting for the one that matters.” Jade stills for a moment before laughing, “fuck you’re so cheesy Tab. Here, I’ll wash up. Go pick a movie, no romance.” You plop on your couch, pillows digging into your back as you click the remote buttons, flipping through Netflix. “Ah, found one.” Jaide wipes her hands on her jeans, discarding the dishwater that lingered. “Oh, Tripple Frontier, you know me so well, Oscar Isaac is such a babe.” You laugh and pull a blanket over your laps, “nah. I’m more of a Pedro Pascal kinda gal,” She bursts out laughing as she turns to you, “we have got some serious daddy issues man.” You giggle with her and nod your head, “yeah, we sure do.”

Ellaria finally gets back to Oberyn's quarters and he's pacing at the tingling sensation where his mark is. What does this mean? His head turned as Ellaria knocks on the door, "come in." He mused quietly. Her hand rests on his shoulder and squeezes firmly, "things will go upward from here, my love. Any obstacle that stands in our way, we can overcome." He turns to face her, a mischievous glint twinkled in her eyes, and it weakened him, physically. He stumbles to sit on the bed with his hand outstretched, keeping a barrier between them. "What have you done?" She scoffs, "I haven't done anything to your pet, Oberyn, regardless of your betrayal. I simply put her in her place and told her to stay away." His body was heating up, fury and anxieties push him upward and he grabs her by the neckline of her dress, "are you out of your mind? Get out of my quarters. We're over, I cannot trust you." His hands release her dress with a small shove, and she watches him as she walks out, hands pounding on the door as she forces it open.

As he watches her leave, he feels nothing, no sorrow, no regret. Only you, you're all he can think about. wondering how-if this could be fixed. For the first time in his life that night, he prays.

[meadowziplines]

Writing patterns meme

Rules: Share the opening of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

Mind the work tags and ratings please at the links before reading __

i must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky

Hob Gadling and Dream had met, in all places, in a London pub called the White Horse. Dream's adoptive older sister Teleute had dragged him on an outing, trying to convince him there were so many things worth living for, because she knew he was only going through the motions. Hob had been there with his friends, radiantly alive.

the making of a dream (museum curator!dream au, #7)

"Be quiet," Tim snarled. "Teleute, if you can't get her quiet, I'll…" "I got it," Teleute said, and came to stand in front of the sobbing seven-year-old. "Hey. Murphy. Come on, you wanna play the game where you're in charge of all the dreams?" Murphy sniffled, then reached for Teleute's hand. "Okay," she said. 

undying love (which shines around me like a million suns)

Dream wrenched himself out of the narrative's hold, stumbling back. Starry blood ran out of his nose and from gashes in his arms and a head injury slowly healed itself, but not fast enough. His knee gave out just as he seized onto someone's idle daydreams of him and dragged himself away. Everything spun as he fell out of the Dreaming into Hob Gadling's flat, hitting the carpet face-first. 

new station cat

CECIL: The Moon is indifferent. The Sun is smiling. The stars are full of blood. Welcome to Night Vale. [intro music] Hello, listeners. It seems there is another cat here at the Night Vale radio station. You already know about Khoshekh, floating four feet off the floor of the men's bathroom. Well, imagine my surprise when I discovered this morning in my recording studio a handsome black cat. 

sunflowers and aloe vera

Dream carefully placed the flowers Hob had gotten him in a vase, tense but trying to not show it. The same kind Cori used to get him. Blue hyacinth. Meaning apology, in of themselves. What did Hob have to be sorry for? What was Hob hiding? Was this some pre-emptive apology?  They had only been dating for two months… At least it would not be a record for how fast one of Dream's relationships imploded. "Thank you," he said out loud, anyway, and tried his best to smile. "I just – I forgot something in the car, I'll be right back."  His hands started shaking the second he managed to escape out of Hob's flat. Then realized he'd left his car keys in Hob's flat, and he kept expecting Cori's silk smooth voice whispering over his shoulder. Kept expecting the cream of his coat to flit by on its way to stroking down Dream's side. The ground felt wobbly beneath his feet. The tidily trimmed rowan bushes swam in his vision. If he went back for his keys – and his phone, and his wallet, for that matter – would Hob let him leave again?

dignity of risk (museum curator!dream #4)

Trivia night at the New Inn had been good. It had. It was now that was not going so well. His ankles and knees throbbed, and the fatigue and dizziness had crept in full force. Dream staggered when he stepped out of Hob's car, and he caught himself on the walking sticks, gritting his teeth. "Dream?" "I'm fine," he said with a sigh. "Please, do not fret." They made it up the stairs, slowly; Dream kept himself going out of sheer force of will, and the promise of being able to sit again. It had been worth it, though. It had been quite nice, the camaraderie, his array of totally otherwise useless knowledge coming to the fore in trivia. Dream, left to his own devices, without human interaction, grew withdrawn and and locked into his head, into looping thought spirals that grew and hurt. Getting out was good. He could still feel Hob's growing frown at the back his head.

sluice (museum curator!dream #6)

The water sluiced over Dream's lithe, marble-pale body where he sat in the shower chair as Hob stood, and Dream made an inquisitive noise at Hob's gaze, cheeks going a little pink.  "Just thinking about how lucky I am to have a handsome, gorgeous, talented boyfriend," Hob said, smiling.  Dream went pinker, ducking his head away. Hob still couldn't quite believe Dream trusted him with this, to witness his body.

a karst topography (museum curator!dream #5)

London, England - Several years ago His joints ached. But Dream was "too young to be sick." His muscles burned. But he was "just being dramatic." His knee slid out of joint. His hands shook. He couldn't open the jar. He stood and saw spots. But nothing was wrong. He was too young to be sick, too young to have anything wrong with him, too dramatic. He bore it alone, after a while. Because nothing changed when he said anything.  When he got diagnosed he wanted to print out all the paperwork and mail it to his parents like a framed uni diploma. Dream decided to not waste the postage money.  *** – why is everything about being sick with you, Desire hissed, and stomped off. (Dream's body hurt too much that day to go out. He probably would have passed out in the club. It didn't matter.)  He got used to being sick alone.

warp and weft

He saw his reflection in the rounded glass and the world imploded. Dream's consciousness stopped functioning correctly. He couldn't breathe everything was glass and he couldn't feel he had to feel something and his clawed hands came up to his face, digging in.

breathe and i'll carry you away (into the velvet sky)

October the 13th, Johanna thinks, is a day only given merit by humans via superstition. That does not stop demons and the like from having decided that if humans are scared of it, they might as well give them something to be frightened of. And this close to Samhain, all spirits are restless. 

like a bird on the wire

Dream woke slowly, head pounding and limbs sluggish. A sharp pain lanced through his side, and it cut through the fog enough for him to lift his head and look down. He drew in a sharp breath. He'd been stripped of his clothes and magically branded. He did not recall how he had come to this place, a damp basement and a cage. The iron and glass he found himself encased in resembled nothing so much as a gilded bird cage, an animal trap of a deceptively delicate-looking variety.

these characters sure do be in situations a lot, i guess is the pattern

[pinkboxess]

⭐️I want you to do a little directors cut so bad but I don’t have the time right now to pull out a specific scene from one of your fics so you chose!!⭐️

Okay, after thinking, I'm going to talk about sunflowers, again. I'll add a cut since this will get long. Also this is like....heavy and sad, so sorry about that.

This is one of my fics where I actually put more artistic thought into it. I wrote the fic after I visited a Monet exhibit in February. It made me think about Ted's visit to the Van Gogh museum in season 3, and the connections between him and Van Gogh (sunflowers, suicide), and thus the fic was born.

I'll give some more behind-the-scenes details about some of the sections

“Do you have any guns, knives, or other weapons on your person?” the employee asks. “No siree bob,” replies Ted. “Only guns in the room are these bad boys.” He flexes his arm comically, causing Rebecca to choke on a smothered laugh and elbow him in the ribs.

When I visited the Monet exhibit there was a security agent who asked us about weapons. I just imagined how Ted might respond to the same thing when he's feeling anxious and rambly

In the next room, the museum has placed Cafe Terrace at Night and Wheatfield with Crows adjacent to each other. They have similar colours: bright mustard yellow, a deep, powerful blue. Whenever Rebecca looks at art, she imagines herself inside of it. What might it be like to order dinner at that cafe? Or to chase the crows away from the wheat?

This is often how I engage with art. I imagine myself inhabiting it. I am really interested in historical clothing (and furniture and items generally, to a lesser degree) and I love to go to museums just to look at items and imagine who wore them, used them, and inhabited them. Imagined what it would be like to be the person who wore that dress. Place myself within their perspective by gazing at something that once was part of their life.

“He did it cause he didn’t think he was a good dad. Didn’t think he mattered.” “Oh, love,” Rebecca soothes. “But look at this guy. He thought the same thing, but here we are, all these years later lookin’ at his art.”

This section is heavily inspired by the Van Gogh episode of Doctor Who. I'm not really a Doctor Who fan, but a friend of mine made me go watch a clip of that episode specifically, and it has violently imprinted itself into my mind.

In the episode, Vincent time travels with the Doctor to a museum displaying his work. The Doctor is doing it to convince Vincent that he is famous in the future and people love his work. He's hesitant to believe it because in his own lifetime he wasn't valued as an artist.

Then the curator of the museum says to a visitor that Van Gogh is possibly the greatest artist who ever lived, and Vincent hears him, and he gets it.

It is just so striking to me to imagine an experience like that. It's something that never could really happen, because it's sci-fi, but it's incredible to think about. What if you could know how people think about you decades or centuries in the future? After you're gone? What if you could see your legacy before it's even happened, and see that you even have a legacy at all?

We don't know anything about Ted's dad really, but I suppose in my imagination I think he's the type of person who would be changed by the experience of watching Ted go to therapy and process his trauma. If he thought he was someone who didn't matter in life, he might be surprised to see how Ted engages with his memory after his death. Ted's statement of "I still need my dad" is my attempt at something would impact Ted's father in a way that mirrors Van Gogh's reaction to the words of the curator. And I think Ted might think, in his own mind, that by healing himself, he is also kind of healing what happened with his dad, in some way.

Even later, a few weeks after their museum trip, Rebecca comes home to find a print of Vase with Fifteen Sunflowers hung up in the kitchen. She doesn’t ask him about it. She doesn’t need to: she sees his quiet smile as he looks at it while he cooks for her. 

This ending is a manifestation of that feeling for Ted. He's not avoiding Van Gogh-- in fact he's actively bringing it into the house-- because he thinks of it as part of the healing process.

[laminy]

I was tagged by @onehelluvamarine. I’ve done this before but I’m too lazy to go see what my answers were so if you’ve already read this before oh well lol.

How many works do you have on AO3?

75!

What’s your total AO3 word count?

2,178,935

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. I'm breathing in the chemicals (Teen Wolf)

2. and you know you don't have to go (Ted Lasso)

3. Fear and Self-Loathing in Beacon Hills (Teen Wolf)

4. you're the sunflower (Ted Lasso)

5. into the blue and sunny morn' (BoRhap Actor RPF)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

For sure! People took the time to comment and I really appreciate it so I always reply.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

None of my fics have angsty endings! I’ll do all the angst in the story itself, I’ll make them cry and be angry and break up and whatever but there’s gotta be a happy ending.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

When all the endings are happy, it’s kind of hard to compare, but probably a new life grows. It was the last part of ITBASM so its ending had to some up years of me writing and years of their fictional lives and put them all in a fantastic place.

Do you write crossovers?

I wrote a couple Midsomer Murders x 6 Underground fics.

Have you received hate on a fic?

I’ve gotten some rude anons. I didn’t realize until I was almost done posting ITBASM (the original story) that I didn’t have asks open on here. I imagine I would’ve gotten a lot of hate about one chapter if I had. Back when I was first posting fanfic (like, almost twenty years ago) I found out that people in some private group were making fun of a fic that I’d posted. that was great.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I certainly do. For the longest time, just m/m, and that’s all I’ve ever posted. But for my original novel I’m working on now, it’s my first m/f and it is an experience lol I find it more awkward to write at times but it’s fun too. I’ve had to get used to writing wet a lot. And clit. And cunt. A whole new world!

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Also not that I know of.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. I find it hard to comprehend writing as a team event.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I genuinely don’t think I could ever pick. There are so many I’ve read over the years. Some I will never touch again, some I will probably still be reading on my death bed lol. Favourite ever??? No way.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I wrote a 6 Underground fic with Four and Seven that had a couple parts. I intended it to have another, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.

Same with the Midsomer Murders x 6 Underground fic (I guess I gave up on Four lol), I still have the exact scene that I want to write in my mind, I picture it, but I doubt it will ever go anywhere. Unless I just write that one scene.

What are your writing strengths?

I love writing dialogue so I hope it’s a strength. Also, way too much research and detail and background stuff that will never make it onto the page, it’s just for me.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Overwriting, and flat description, A couple years ago I took a writing course and I submitted the first chapter of a fic I had written (one name changed lol), and they really hated it and it was really demoralizing. They said it read more like a screenplay instead of a book because there was no emotion, no thought, it was just “he did this and this and this.” I’ve tried improving since then, I hope I have.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I have done it! to varying levels of success. I wish I knew Egyptian Arabic so I could have included it more in ITBASM. I only ever include small bits in other languages, and I don’t bother to translate. I assume based on context people can figure it out or check for themselves.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Friends, in the fifth grade. it was handwritten in a notebook, which is possibly still somewhere in my parents’ house, but not with me.

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

I would still like to finish one of my Gran Turismo fics but I don’t know if that will happen.

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

ITBASM as a whole. I know that by the end I was pretty much doing it for me and a handful of other people and I don’t know if it’s as good as it could’ve been but I felt really proud of it and what I did manage to accomplish. It felt more mine than other fics I’ve written.

[calmthefuckdownalright]

A/N: Another Untitled piece bc I'm writing this from my phone and Tumblr is iffy. It's called "Dancing With Your Ghost" like the song by Sasha Alex Sloan. It's based off ot as well.

Summary: The Reader can't move on but a certain Ghostbur offers a way to at least start.

Pairing: Ghostbur x Reader

Genre: Sad Fluff 🥀

No warnings but it is meant to be sad just saying

°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•°~•

The sun dipped behind the desacated land and wavered with the sky what colors it should turn. A fiery orange the color of old sweaters or a bright blue of a diamond sword edging the dark that crept up in the dusk. Everything was a reminder.

The way the wind rustled the rose bushes decorating the garden echoed what you could remember of his laugh. It'd been close to thirteen years since Wilbur died but every morning it felt like it was just seconds ago.

You'd tried to move on with your life. You'd shut away the ring he gave you that day before you all went to war. You stopped visiting the forest by Pogtopia to 'talk' to him. You even turned away all the pictures of him and folded up the pieces of paper scribbled with love poems and notes. All physical traces of him were gone. Except one.

One that was your friend and visited you often, had even become sort of a shoulder to cry on. Which was often considering the breathtaking resemblance he had to your dead lover. Ghostbur was a different kind of Wilbur. He was everything Wilbur could've been had L'manberg been granted peace.

Ghostbur was what Wilbur would've been for you according to Ghostbur.

"I just...everything I remember of you is just wonderful. There's no dark patches of plot holes. It's just you and a feeling of joy." Ghostbur smiled and leaned his head against yours which was on his shoulder.

"Y/N?" He said now from behind you. "Y/N why are your crying? Oh please don't cry!" Ghostbur was frantic as he dug into his pockets and produced a blue substance that stained his hands constantly.

"Ghostbur, I'm okay I promise." You sniffed and took the blue greatfully. He hugged you and you nearly started sobbing. Ghostbur smelled like Wilbur to. Not Pogtopia Wilbur or Vilbur, as people had begun to call him. Wilbur. Like sunflowers and cinnamon. The kind of scent that reminded you of reality but drug you into a fantasy too good to exist. That was what Wilbur smelled like. Not gunpowder or gasoline or dusty caves with sharp, electric scents of redstone or smoke.

"Are you sure? C'mon lets go inside." Ghostbur took your hand and led you back into the makeshift cabin. "You stay here." He instructed and left you at the designated kitchen area.

You obeyed and clutched the blue substance. This was something that didn't remind you of Wilbur but of Ghostbur. The color itself was a permanent reminder. Cornflowers decorated each flower pot in the cabin to remind you of your ghostly friend. Deep down you knew Ghostbur wasn't Wilbur, at least not really, and that was what counted. Ghostbur was Ghostbur and you were overly thankful that that was easily distinguished. That he was and could be his own person.

"Okay now follow me." Ghostbur was smiling and a blush of light blue dotted his cheeks. He was excited about something. Music drifted in the air and you again nearly started sobbing.

"I remember something about this song and you. That you loved it but it was horribly difficult to get." Ghostbur rubbed his neck and took the blue out of your hand, now stained, and put it back into his pocket.

He was right. The song that was playing was called Chirp and you'd found a spawned with it inside but you're been horribly under geared. Wilbur had had to come down, also very under geared, and help you get the disc. Wilbur told you Dream had confiscated it when L'manberg was overturned. You hadn't hardly cared at the time as it was more so that you had just wanted a decent song to dance with Wilbur to.

"You're crying again. Did I get it wrong? Do you actually hate this song?!" Ghostbur panicked and you we're quick to assure him.

"No no no! You got it right Ghostbur I do love this song," you hugged him close and kept your hands on his shoulders, cold despite the sweater. "I just can't believe you have it. Alivebur told me Dream.had taken it." You muttered. Wilbur was Alivebur to Ghostbur so you tried your best to use the term around him.

"Oh...I don't remember that. Perhaps Dream did take it and Alivebur got it back." Ghostbur suggested.

"Maybe." You feigned a smile. You knew Wilbur had lied now. There was no way he would've jeopardized the war for a music disc. Not one that wasn't one of Tommy's special discs anyways.

"Let's dance before it ends yeah?" Ghostbur wrapped his thin arms around your waist and pulled your close causing your arms to swing around his neck.

"That sounds great Ghostbur." You said and rested your head on his chest. There was no heartbeat and hardly a sound of breath. It halfway made you panic for a moment.

'He's dead. Remember?' You thought stupidly and let yourself melt into the rhythm of Ghostbur's lead.

"Thank you for being here Ghostbur." You said after a moment.

"I'll always be here Y/N." The ghost responded quietly in return. A tightness in your chest loosened at the words. The promise in them. A promise only one other man had made you and failed to uphold. Somehow this one felt different, despite them being similar in all ways but one.

As the sun went down and the music faded away, a man rotted in a cage with a book in hand and a plan.

: )

°~•°~•°~•~°•~°~•°~•°~•

Hope you liked it, go listen to Dancing With Your Ghost by Sasha Alex Sloan to get a better grip on what I was going for in this oneshot. I repeat One shot! No continuing parts. Now everyone go to bed you gremlins love ya!

[mythcaels-a]

"Mako! You're back again?" Chyrvin was carrying a large basket of herbs in his arms, trying to balance it all carefully along with the bits of flowers he had tucked into his hair when he ran out of room. The forest was rather quiet today, it had rained the night before and the animals were sleeping the cold chill off. As a dragon, whose body temperature was a bit warmer than average, he rarely felt the cold that much. He had plenty of heat to spare.

Mako was a new regular, apparently he liked the way Chyrvin made his tea leaves and came to buy them often. He tried to keep the tea well stocked since it was one of their biggest sellers, especially in a city with so many supernatural tea drinkers. Dandelion Apothecary, despite being in the forest rather than the town, was a rather popular store. Everything Chyrvin collected was fresh and from the forest itself, or grown by him.

He sat the basket he was carrying down and reached into his hair, pulling out one of the yellow sunflowers and reaching it out to tuck behind Mako's ear, smiling brightly. "There! You should smile more, you have a nice smile."

He found himself drawn to this place as of late, enjoying the teas that they had and the friendly presence of one of the ones that ran the place. He normally wasn't one to venture off from the river that was tucked away deep forest but as of late he finds himself doing that, a nice change of pace but still feeling drawn back to the river when he feels that there are souls much too close to it.

Blue - green hues settle onto the face that is becoming quite familiar to him. Hands clasp behind back, bare feet hidden carry him forward to be closer to the other. He does not talk to others often unless he is trying to get them to heed his warnings about the river. Talking to the other, getting to get new teas from the other and enjoy them was refreshing and so welcomed. The other had a good heart, he could feel it.

❝ I am . . . I ran out of tea already. I wanted to get more. ❞ It was such good tea, though it took so much focus on his part to make himself tangible and be able to enjoy it properly. He didn't know how to make sense of how he could taste the tea, enjoy it but he was sure it was such a fleeting thing. Drinking tea passed the time. So many days, weeks, months, years spent watching the river and the evil that lurks within and trying to understand it, to protect others from it. Drinking tea was wonderful, speaking with the other was just as wonderful too.

Gaze watches every movement of the other and he's blinking as the other tucks the flower behind his own ear. He wasn't sure he could blush, if he could then he would be but the gesture does have his lips twitching. A soft smile overtakes features.

❝ You're too kind to me. I'm sure that there's nothing that special about my smile but . . . You have a nice smile yourself. It's warm and kind. ❞ Fingers rise to touch the flower that the other placed behind his ear, a flower he would take such great care of until it inevitably wilted.

[dont-feel-so-good-peter]

This may sound dumb, but how would a scenario play out where the reader just thought Marc, Steven, and Jake were identical triplets and has the absolute shock of their life

𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭/ 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫/ 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Warnings: fluff and angst

Part two:

— YOU HAD BEEN CONFUSED AS MUCH BEFORE BUT THIS CONFUSION WAS PARTICULAR. Dating Steven Grant wasn't easy but you didn't mind dating him. No matter how many dates he didn't show up to, how late he was to everything, and how he may come off as. You loved Steven but what you didn't understand was that there were three of him.

Granted, Steven didn't know that others were living inside of him, and Marc and Jake tried to play it off as if they were his brothers. It was very confusing to see two identical people that looked like your boyfriend. As like right now, the man with a black golfer hat, wearing tight black long sleeves and blue jeans walked alongside you down the flea market.

Jake Lockley stood next to you with his arms full of groceries as he stared at all the shining antiques glistening under the sun. "Thank you for coming with me to the flea market!" You said happily as you swayed your tote bag in your hand. "I don't know where Steven is and he wouldn't answer my text. So I thought you would ignore the flea market. I remember that you told me back home that you use to go to flea markets when you were a kid."

Jake knew it was terrible to keep the secret that there was actually just three of them in one body but Jake and Marc agreed that Steven should get to live a normal life without knowing about them. It was easy to keep it that way because they always ask you at the end of hanging out with you to not tell Steven. Jake was lucky that you were kind and loyal to not tell Steven, perhaps even a little innocent and oblivious.

Perhaps that's why Jake and Marc were okay with fronting around you. They were comfortable around you because sometimes, they needed that innocence and obliviousness nature to make them feel okay. They didn't have anyone but at least they felt okay being around you. And Jake's heart swelled from how you remembered one of his talks that was a while ago. He didn't want to fall in love with Steven's girlfriend but it was becoming inevitable at this point.

Even Marc was slowly falling in love with you. It was another reason why Marc and Jake were fronting around you. "You. . .remembered, Hermosa?" Jake questioned with furrowed brows as he glanced over you.

"Of course I did." You said with a huge grin, glancing back at him. "I remember everything you tell me. I even started practicing Spanish to communicate with you better. I just want to communicate with Steven's brother better."

The warm summer sun radiated against your face as you stopped in the middle of the busy flea market. You wore the cutest sunflower dress, the dress itself was black but the small litters of yellow sunflowers scattered across your dress. You wore a bucket hat with a Mickey Mouse embedded in the middle of it. Jake felt his heart pounding, he clutched the groceries tightly around his muscular arms. He knew that this deception was wrong and he should tell the truth but it was a bit thrilling to have this secret be kept from you. But it was also wrong because he was falling for Steven's girlfriend.

"Okay, let's hear your Spanish then." Jake waved two fingers off the brown bag as he nodded his head encouragingly.

"Okay." You inhaled a deep breath and spoke broken Spanish in the most horrendous way possible. Jake pressed his lips into a thin line as his lips trembled trying to hold back laughter. He brought the brown bags against his face as a huge smile broke on his lips. "You're laughing behind those bags!"

You pushed his shoulders as Jake erupted into laughter behind the bags. "That's not nice!" You shouted, crossing your arms as Jake lowered the bag laughing more. "I really tried!"

"Esta bien, mi amor. Hiciste lo mejor que pudiste." Jake said as he walked over to the curb of the street to stand out of the way of people.

It's okay, my love. You did your best.

You tilted your head as you furrowed your brows. Jake assumed from your broken Spanish that you didn't know what he said but your lips curled into a frown. "Did you call me my love?" You asked.

Jake froze as he stared down at you. He didn't expect you to know Spanish, that didn't make sense. How could you understand Spanish but speak it so horrible? "How did you know what I said? You can't even pronounce the proper words." Jake replied trying to shrug off that he called you my love. He was supposed to be Steven's "brother" he wasn't supposed to flirt with you or catch feelings and here he was utterly falling into an abyss gazing into your confused eyes.

"I only said I could show you I can speak Spanish." You countered with raised eyebrows. "It's easier to understand it than to speak it but why did you call me my love?"

Jake didn't have an answer. He could lie to many people as possible about his identities, and who he was and make up countless stories. But it was hard to lie to you. Those pretty [color] eyes that he could get lost in for hours on end as he was hypnotized. He cleared his throat as he looked away from you. "It's a nickname for those you hold dear to your heart and you're my dearest. . .friend."

The words that came out of him tasted bitter. Jake knows he shouldn't want more but he wants more, he wants you. All of you. And for you to only see him as Steven's brother was painful to live through. Jake wanted you to be his and he knew Marc felt the same but as the protector of both Marc and Steven, he already felt selfish for still being the avatar of Khonshu so the least he could do was not condone his own feelings.

"You're my dearest friend too!" You said with a wide smile as you bent down to pluck a flower off a bush. You went on your tippy-toes and brush the flower on Jake's hair, pushing away his brown hair out of the way.

Jake shuddered feeling the padding of your fingers against his hair. He definitely wanted more but he couldn't have you. And that was the problem, he couldn't have you because you were already someone else's. "Yeah, friend," Jake muttered. "Let's go get some food."

"Okay. But I'm choosing this time."

No matter how much Jake wants to tell you that he's in the same body as Steven and tell you that he loves you, he knows he can't. So, he pushed aside his feelings as his lips tugged into a smirk looking at you. "Don't choose any white people food, there isn't any taste to their food."

"No promises."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

And one "brother" to another, Marc came out and knocked on your door. He asked if you wanted to do a midnight stroll and possibly get IHOP after the stroll. You agreed because you loved hanging out with Steven's "brothers" and you thought you were getting closer to them by spending time with them. You thought it was weird that Marc and Jake asked you to not tell Steven about it, perhaps they wanted to surprise him about the closeness you were having with them?

Whatever it may be, Marc's sweater hung loosely on you as you stared at the twinkling night sky. The moonlights shone brightly against the two of you as Marc walked you down the bristling streets of London trying to find an IHOP to get pancakes.

Marc glanced down at you as your smile formed on your lips watching the stars. He knew it was wrong as well to feel this swelling feeling in his heart. To absolutely be enthralled by someone who was innocent and oblivious. He needed that in his life, just someone to balance his chaos but as Jake was feeling, you were someone else's.

"How's. . .Steven?" Marc questioned trying to make conversation as he twiddled with his golden necklace against his neck trying to calm his nerves. It was always hard to talk to you because of how nervous Marc would get but he tried his best around you. It wasn't hard falling in love with you because of how kind you were to Steven. How gentle you were when Steven missed your dates. You were patient. Something Marc was never good at but somehow, you were teaching him to be all these things that he never imagined he would become.

"Oh, Steven's great! I haven't seen him much today since I was with your other brother, Jake." You said absentmindedly as you peered your eyes away from the vast sky. Your eyes twinkled at Marc underneath the fluorescent street light as you talked about your day with Jake and how Jake made fun of your Spanish.

Marc started snickering as he heard you try saying something in Spanish. "No wonder Jake was laughing. That was terrible Spanish." Marc replied. He hasn't smiled this much in a long time and honestly, he was having a good time smiling this much. He hasn't smiled like this since his actual brother, Randall before he died.

"Jake wouldn't stop making fun of me. I don't need another brother to tease me about it." You huffed but a smile broke on your lips as you walked down the street, not paying attention to anything but Marc as you glanced at him. "I've been meaning to ask you something."

"What is it?" Marc questioned, arching an eyebrow at you.

"How come I never see you in the same room as Jake and Steven?" You questioned, gazing at him for answers. It has been on your mind why the three brothers won't' hang out with each other. From how often Jake and Marc visit you, they never seem to want to visit Steven. In fact, you have never seen them in the same room at all.

"She's going to find out," Jake called out from the reflection of a puddle as Marc passed by it trying to think of a response but a sudden gust of wind blew harshly against the two as you suddenly stumbled on your feet.

Marc outstretched his arm and grasp your wrist from falling, pulling you against his broad chest. "Are you okay?" Marc questioned, looking to the side to see that Khonshu had pushed you.

"YOU'RE WELCOME, IDIOT," Khonshu said, disappearing away from thin air.

Marc could only thank Khonshu for this moment because he had no idea how to tell you that Steven was an alter of him. "I'm okay." You breathed out lifting your head to look at Marc with a soft smile. "Thank you."

You hastily pulled away. There was that beating of your heart strumming for Marc. The same beating that was for Jake as well. You hated yourself for feeling a certain way for Steven's brothers but it was hard to not feel your heart swell when Steven's brothers looked exactly like him. Yes, they all acted differently but it was the same face. The same face you fell in love with.

"Let's go get. . .pancakes." You trailed off awkwardly, turning around fast to walk away quickly so he wouldn't see your burning cheeks.

Marc glared at the moon, grumbling to himself about how adorable you looked in his sweater and how cute you looked against his chest. He wanted these thoughts to stop and he knew it was selfish for falling for Steven's girlfriend but he couldn't help himself. "Khonshu, this is the only time I'm saying thanks to you," Marc muttered and then followed your path to IHOP.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

After spending the day with both brothers, you decided it was time to go home and get back to Steven. But something felt off when Marc rushed away quickly as he left you in front of the apartment building saying a quick goodbye. It was strange seeing him run off quickly but you shrugged it off, wanting to go back to Steven as you held what he usually ordered at IHOP.

You made it through the building and into your apartment. "Steven?" You called out, closing the door behind you as you locked it. You heard cluttering noises coming from deeper into the apartment. "Steven?"

Walking towards the noise, you saw Steven's body slumped against the made bed as he fluttered his eyes open confused. Steven rubbed his eyes as he sat up. He was confused about what time it was. He knew that he must have overslept or perhaps underslept seeing how it was still dark outside. "Steven?" You called out, stepping in front of you.

A smile broke out on his lips as he jerked his head towards your direction as you entered the bedroom. "Hi, love!" He cheerily said, it felt like he hasn't seen you all day.

"Hi, Steven." You said, walking up to him and pressing your lips against his forehead. "I got you food."

"Can you put it in the refrigerator for me? Some reason, I'm not that hungry." Steven shuffled on the bed as he fixed his hair. He felt like he looked messy from barely waking up. "You went to IHOP without me?"

"No. . ." You trailed off trying to think of what to say since Marc asked not to tell Steven. "I went with a friend. You know Peter, right? He wanted to eat a late-night snack and I didn't know where you were so I just went with him."

"You didn't know where I was?" Steven asked confused, furrowing his brows as you walked out of the room to put Steven's food away. He scrambled off the bed to follow you as a million thoughts went through his head. He's been here all this time. Why would you not know where he was? He shared this apartment with you for two months already and he was always here, if not then at work. "Darling, I was here."

You arched an eyebrow at him as you opened the door to the refrigerator. "Uh, no. You weren't." You replied confused. "I tried to hang out with you today but you were gone. Today is your day off as well but I assumed you were at the bookstore getting more Egyptian history books."

"No, I've been sleeping all this time." Steven rubbed his forehead confused as he stared at you closing the fridge door and turning around. "I barely woke up. I shouldn't have been asleep that long."

"Steven. . ." You trailed off equally as confused as he was. You glanced down at his clothes and furrowed your brows. The golden necklace that Marc wears hung loosely on Steven's neck. Marc's necklace. Maybe he was with Marc today? But that couldn't be because you just saw Marc. "Where did you get Marc's necklace? Did you finally talk to him?"

"Marc?" Steven questioned, lowering his hand down from his aching forehead as he gazed at you, confused. "Who the hell is Marc?"

Shit. Jake and Marc thought watching from the reflections.

"Your brother?" You asked slowly. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "Wait, did he tell you to pretend to not know that you're talking to each other again? Is Jake on this?"

Steven was in bewilderment. He had no clue who the hell you were talking about. Who was Marc and Jake? Were they people you knew? And why would he know them? He barely had any friends, hell, you were his only friend. "Someone's having a laugh because I don't know who's those bloody men are pretending to be my brother. I don't have a brother."

"Steven, Marc and Jake look exactly like you." You pressed on as Steven stumbled back trying to comprehend what you were saying. You laced your fingers with his as you took him to the couch to sit down before he fell from his confusion. "I wasn't supposed to take pictures being with them but. . ." You took your phone from Marc's sweater. A sweater that Steven has never seen as well.

Steven couldn't help but feel jealous seeing another man's sweater look adorable on you. "Look at this." You called out taking him out of his thoughts as he glanced down at your dimmed screen.

Steven's brows furrowed. He was going through different stages of bewilderment and shock. His lips parted, and his eyes went wide. His facial expressions conveyed the emotions he was going through. Disbelief, shock, confusion, and then, terrified. "Steven, what's wrong?" You asked concern. "These are your brothers. . .Marc and Jake."

Steven stared at the pictures as his breath trembled, he didn't mean to grab your phone rudely but he zoomed in on the picture. It was from today. You snuck a picture of Jake petting a dog. The side of his face looked exactly like Steven's. Then, he scrolled to the next picture of this Marc person. A clearer photo of Marc came through as he ate pancakes. It was him but at the same time, it wasn't.

Steven couldn't recall these memories and they were from today apparently. His hands trembled as his fingers loosen, and the phone slipped through his hands as he stared terrified at the ground in front of him. "That's not me," Steven whispered.

"What? Of course not, they're your brothers."

"No." Steven shook his head as he slowly turned his head towards you. "Love, I don't have any identical brothers. I don't have any brothers at all. . .it's me but it's not me."

"I don't think I understand." You replied with furrowed brows.

Steven was in disbelief. It wasn't him,  those photos were him but they weren't. He couldn't believe who was in those pictures. There was no reconciliation of any memories. He knew he had problems with missing days and missing hours. There were blank spaces in his life but the photos you showed him were utterly insane. "I don't have any brothers. . .it's me."

From witnessing how terrified Steven was, you believed him and from the same golden necklace as well that hung on Steven's neck that Marc wore. You put a hand on his shoulder for comfort as you softly asked, "Then who was it?

"I don't know but they're not me."

Jake and Marc watched from the reflections knowing that Marc had screwed up big time and that the consequences of their actions caught up to them. For the first time, they didn't know what to do as Steven sat there horrified and shocked. Steven now understood that the jacket you had on your body was either Jake's or Marc's. 

"They're not me."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Perhaps there will be a part two of this but resentment series and no time to die series is taking longer to write than I hoped because they’re both going to be lengthy chapters.

[eternal-armin]

arcane characters & pet name headcanons.

reader: neutral. characters included: jinx, vi, caitlyn, victor, sevika, ekko

jinx.

♔ i just know in my soul that she would call you snookums ♔ she has so many pet names for you it's hard to keep up ♔ toots, sweets, sweetheart, darling, babe, those obvious ones ♔ cutie-pie/cutie-patooty, snookums, pretty boy/girl/whatever you prefer, pup ♔ sometimes she'll just unashamedly call you a string of them. like saying "my lovey-dovey snookums honey bunny pretty pumpkin pie!" while squishing your cheeks

♔ you call her by far less pet names. let's just get that out of the way ♔ but she treasures every one. ♔ treasure, darling, sweetheart, love, monkey ♔ whenever you call her by a pet name she just turns to face you with this big proud grin like "yesssss, snookums?"

vi.

♔ cupcake is an obvious one. ♔ personally i believe that honey, babe, sweetheart, hot stuff, gorgeous/handsome/pretty, and sweetness would also be used by her ♔ she says em so nonchalantly now but you still get a bit flustered and that's fine, she'll just tease you with them more, you know how it is

♔ looks at you almost dreamily whenever you call her by a pet name ♔ darling, muffin, cutie/pie, pumpkin ♔ i can just picture her wrapping an arm around you and saying something like "damn right i am" and giving you a plethora of kisses on top of your head

caitlyn.

♔ definitely goes with the classics, and you're not complaining ♔ sweetheart, baby, and darling ♔ not really one for pet names, she loves your name and she loves saying it, but finds a good amount of meaning behind them sometimes

♔ you typically call her love, sweets, that's about it ♔ same with cait, you don't need to give her a nickname, you like her name enough as it is ♔ sometimes you just love calling her by extra nicknames. like cherry blossom, dragonfruit, toffee cookie ♔ basically anything you like. it is fun and kind of a running joke between the two of you to come up with the strangest/most unnecessary pet names

viktor.

♔ calls you by names like sunflower, sunshine, dear/dearest, darling, starlight ♔ the tender way he says them too, it just kills you every time ♔ was so nervous to call you by a pet name at first but the way you melted at it... he is now addicted ♔ he always kisses your cheek or forehead when calling you by a name ♔ sometimes says them in russian

♔ you were the first to use pet names in the relationship ♔ handsome, darling, sweetheart ♔ he just feels so happy when he hears them ♔ even after a long, stressful day, your voice and those names can make him feel better. recharge his batteries, yknow, if accompanied by hugs and whatnot

sevika.

♔ babe, hot stuff, stud, lover boy/lover girl/whatever you prefer ♔ will definitely use them as possessives, such as when someone's a little too close ♔ hot stuff and lover boy/etc are her favorites. ♔ while she loves your name in and of itself, she just can't help it. at this point you aren't as flustered each time as when the relationship was new, but it's still worth it

♔ could definitely see you calling her beau, dream boat, hercules, firecracker, bfg ♔ if you can think of any more nicknames for someone who is buff, then those as well. ♔ you don't say them a lot so they always kinda catch her off-guard. not that she shows it much ♔ but she always looks so cheeky afterward. lopsided smirk and all

ekko.

♔ calls you angel, beautiful/handsome/whatever you prefer, cookie, babe/baby ♔ honestly says them a lot, but only directly do you ♔ like he won't say 'have you seen my angel' he'll say 'have you seen [y/n]' ♔ just kinda sees them as more private things ♔ but that just makes you both appreciate them more

♔ you call him big guy, handsome, can definitely see you calling him papi, hotshot ♔ more playful stuff, and you're usually giggling through them ♔ like vi, he'd wrap an arm around you all proud-like. "that's me. what do you need, babe?" ♔ just had stars in his eyes when you first called him by a nickname

[strawberry-lemonade-kisses]

Beginnings

"Did you see him, he's so strong"

"And so handsome" the whispers were anything but quiet about the small village visitor. He stuck out like a sore thumb in the bland town. Bright hair compared to a sea of black. You tried not to stare as he walked through the village, accepting praises for his hard work the night before. He was stunning, basking in the sunlight as he bowed in appreciation at the grandma's who showered him in praise and adoration. You focused on the sunflowers you were tying, trying to keep them together for your small Trek to the graveyard. Although they would be snug in your basket, your father scolded you endlessly over the years of not tying them tight enough and letting the heads get damaged.

"You can't bring your grandmother damaged sunflowers, it's disrespectful. If you insist on bringing them, make sure it's right.” The lecture was given every summer, right after the flowers bloomed and you cut down some stalks to take to your late best friend.

"Sweetheart, bring these to the demon slayer. Make sure he gets rest and let him know if he's hungry we are more than happy to provide him with food, free of charge" your mother brought over a small package, wrapped neatly in an embroidered orange cloth.

"You want me to do it?" You looked between the small package and your mother.

"He is still young, maybe even your age. You're getting older and sooner or later you will have to marry, I'd rather you choose your husband than have your father choose" she smiled, softly patting your hand as she closed your fist around the package. "it's bandages and salve, in case he got injured" she gave you another encouraging smile and left you to continue with your flowers. You stalled at home, hoping by the time you finally went to see your grandmother, the talk of the town would be gone.

You were gravely mistaken, he was heading your direction as you weaved through the small crowd of people shopping in the town center, getting their needed items or browsing the newest selections offered.

"I'd rather you choose your husband then have your father choose" your mother's words were a grave reminder of the world you lived in, but did you really need a husband right now? No. You would just give him the present, let him know the bakery Is open for anything he wants and then leave, no harm, no foul.

"Excuse me" your voice came out louder than you expected, stopping not only the slayer you wanted, but a few other passerbys. You bowed to them in apology, face already flaming as he peered down at you, gods he was tall. "I'm sorry, I was asked to bring this to you. My family owns the bakery at the end of the village, they said if you want anything just stop by. Free of charge" you plastered on a smile, refusing to meet his eyes as you handed over the small cloth of supplies.

"That's very nice. Thank you for your generosity! Do you have a name?" He wanted to continue the conversation. That thought surprised you as you looked up, meeting the sun itself. He was beautiful up close, the whispers and gossip did him no justice when everyone said he was beautiful, he was more than that. He was ethereal, were gods real? Why would a god be a demon slayer though? Could the sun actually have a child? Because you were sure you were standing in front of it. A living work of art.

"Y/N. Shina Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for your hard work. Our neighbors can rest easy now. Knowing they've been avenged" you tried not to think of the horrors of the estate next door. The screams, the blood, the struggle to hold onto life.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner. I'm Rengoku Kyojuro! I'm glad the demon is gone now and you can be safe. Thank you for your kind gift Y/N. You are very pretty" he was speeding through his sentences, face beating red as he spit out everything he wanted to say. Was he as nervous as you? You couldn't help but shuffle awkwardly, unsure how to respond, no one has ever been so forward with affection, especially not in the middle of the street. "The flowers are pretty too!" You looked at the basket in your arms, overflowing with large sunflowers and smaller bundles of baby's breath. They were always beautiful! You worked hard since spring to make sure they grew to a good height and the heads got big enough. Then you personally measured and decided which ones to present to your grandmother. You had immense pride in your work on them and being recognized was amazing.

"Thank you Kyojuro! Can I call you that? I worked really hard to make sure they grow well. Here" you pulled one from the top, wiggling it out of the ties before handing it over to the boy in front of you. "work hard!" You smiled, eyes shining as you stepped back and bowed one final time before continuing your trip to the cemetery, more of a skip in your step present.

You weren't surprised when you got scolded that night for your sunflowers coming undone and spilling all over your grandmother's headstone. However, You were very surprised when a familiar demon slayer showed up at your door, asking if you were busy.

"Good for you sweetheart, don't stay out late" your mother silenced your father who wasn't done breathing fire over the mess he had to clean. She gave you a gentle push of encouragement, tucking a loose stranding of hair behind your ear and waving goodbye as you walked with the young slayer out of the gates of your home.