maybe it was her fault, maybe all of this was her fault. she'd taught celeste to kill and get away with it, to always take pride in her work. she'd been the one who had placed a weapon in celeste's hands and had cultivated the knowledge on a thousand ways to kill someone. in truth, the knowledge that she'd passed down to celeste hadn't been what had disappointed her - nor the use of that knowledge.

"you've been reckless," that was it. truly, it had been the ever present stab of worry that celeste may end up hurt in some way that she couldn't come back from - that had bothered sarine more than anything. being away from celeste had been a way to ice over the emotions that she'd felt from their entanglement. but the issue was celeste's apparent impulsiveness regarding decision making. when she had been with the agency, at least she was somewhat accounted for, at least sarine had the option to visit her if she was so inclined. at least there she could keep tabs - make sure celeste wasn't causing unnecessary trouble for herself. now, out here, it was like the wild west; there was no telling what trouble the woman might find herself in and without sarine's help if she needed it.

for all of her worry, celeste had done... well, she supposed, without the agency. she had been inconspicuous enough in her killings to not warrant too much suspicion, and she was still alive - the most important part of her deflection. sarine allowed herself to feel some pride at that. the killing of people didn't really bother her much but she suspected that it bothered her more than it bothered celeste. her protege had always taken a zealous approach to killing people - celeste did so without passion, without real conviction; she was different from celeste in that regard. though, she also had never shamed celeste for her preferences or her excitement in the kill. it was what it was. she was a little stuck on the pride she was supposed to be feeling regarding the several dead bodies behind them now, however.

if she said there were other ways of getting sarine's attention, would celeste understand? was it even true at this point? after all, sarine was here; she had done away with her self-imposed exile from celeste at the first hint that something was amiss. and truly, that's what she thought celeste wanted; her attention, her pride, dare she say it... her affection? a shiver shook her then and she blinked the wide-eyed look away from celeste.

"you couldn't have just sent a bouquet of roses to my house instead, could you?" no, it had to be in blood, she supposed, as that was the way they had always spoken to one another in the past...

      the crimson trail she had left all over europe, randomly-timed enough to be played off as one-time tragedies, followed in the same path of sarine's whereabouts. detours and all, their fields of influence created a delicate braid, weaving in and out of each other, akin to the delicate dance they have created throughout their years in each other's company.

      years of maintaining her distance clearly wore on celeste's sanity — if there was any of that to begin with, really. the woman before her and the significance that rooted in her had the assassin's insides scarred with her memory - her soul. it was more than a mentorship ; that word was too trivial to ever come close to encompassing the thick, red fated string that eternally bound the both of them. that truth sat like acid in celeste's throat, searing into the muscle with every quip and fighting scream she had let out since her departure. all of the blood spilled was on sabine's hands, as much as she would try to deny it, and deny she would.

      envy, admiration, detestment, love — a flurry of oversaturated emotion that sat in such an angry girl who only wanted the sweet approval of a honey-dipped voice. sarine's praise was the only thing that drove the knives deeper into her victims, each drop of blood a sacrificial offering.

      " you didn't like my gift ? i did that all for you, sarine. " there was an innocence that played upon her tone - its artificiality was the real question, something that she hoped to answer for herself. " i wanted you to be proud of me ... you taught me so well. can't you see that ? "

the streets were busting with tourists, the noise suffocating what little peace she'd found earlier. she'd been here for quite some time, as evident by the empty cups of coffee littering the table outside the cafe she sat at. she'd slept little in the night these days, constantly worried and on edge and surrounded by questions of 'what ifs' that haunted her. she refused to think of that now, not when she was so close..

she knew instinctually, factually, that somewhere lining these streets was celeste. her protege had done well in concealing her whereabouts for awhile since deflecting from their agency but sarine knew celeste like the back of her hand; they were two halves of the same soul, the same being. they breathed, ached, and fought together; had nearly died together. that kind of time spent left a mark invisible to others but felt distinctly by themselves. sarine knew that, eventually, she would find her - she just didn't expect it to be outside of a cafe, sipping coffee. nor did she expect the game of cat and mouse to end so abruptly as celeste took the seat opposite her.

seeing her again was like the first breaths after being under water for too long; that ache of your lungs being pushed to their limits, only for you to finally surface and breathe deep lungfuls. it was a relief, yes, but also a reminder that she had been under water for a long time without the woman opposite her now. a sobering thought. her eyes raked over celeste's appearance, pleased and overwhelmed. her eyes, naturally cool in emotional response from years of training and emotional neglect, hid none of their disappointment at the behavior from her protege. she didn't answer the question right away, instead picking up the lukewarm liquid in her cup and taking a sip. a couple passed by then, their hands intertwined and their shoulders free of stress; sarine envied them immediately and watched them long after they had disappeared around the corner.

"are you finished with your tantrum, now?" unafraid of the havoc the statement might wreck on their relationship or on celeste herself, sarine arched a single eyebrow as her eyes sought the other woman's. she was aware that she had left the question unanswered and it was purposeful.

paging the loml @sunflowerswriting !

      the heart of vienna, stone streets and uneven pavement lined with boutiques and cafes. it was busy - tourist season, it seemed, or a random blip that brought fresh faces ( celeste's included ) to this bustling town. if anyone asked, she would call it accidental — happenstance, or even fate to have caught a glimpse of a glowing brunette, one so magnetic it pulled her into the empty chair opposite to her form. a spot perfectly reserved for her. " missed me ? "

Angela Sarafyan as Clementine Pennyfeather in Westworld S04E08

back and desperate for complicated, angsty ass lesbian ships

haven’t been here bc I’m anxiously awaiting results from my dr about my liver… i just haven’t been in the headspace to really manage my blog here. maybe that’ll change this weekend when I go to work, maybe not

SAM CLAFLIN as BILLY DUNNE DAISY JONES & THE SIX 1x03 | Track 3: Someone Saved My Life Tonight

DYLAN O'BRIEN The Hollywood Reporter | Sundance FIlm Festival (Jan, 2024)

looking for enthusiastic writing partners to fulfill my plotting needs and to get some new pairings going ! would love m/f, f/f, or m/m plots ! pretty much open to anything at this time - including smutty plots. like this or reply and i'll come to you!

"right, honey," bram smirked and kept from pulling away from the curb even if he thought, secretly, it might be funny. he was always a good guy at respecting boundaries. "the bikes not even on so don't worry about it, okay?"

"I don't normally do this type of thing,' Nell said, giggling, but she thought it was fun. It would be a neat Instagram photo. She got on the back of the motorcycle but instantly began to tap the man's shoulder.

"Hey, don't take off, okay?" She thought of a good, cool excuse as to why she was so nervous.

"I don't have on a seat belt." @sunflowerswriting

parker watched as the woman took a bump off of his stash and, for a moment, almost felt bad about it. "anyone ever tell you, you're like insanely attractive?" he asked, head tilted to the side, eyes squinting as his head rushed with endorphins. "parker," he offered his own name, taking her hand but not shaking it, instead just holding it.

Savannah didn't think she'd be doing coke with someone she had just met that night in an alleyway, but she'd been on vacation in Cancun for a week and was happy to meet someone who spoke English that wasn't on spring break. Not that she had a problem partying with college students, but eventually she had grown tired of pretending to be interested in TikToks and teenage fucking subterfuge.

She took a bump off a key and felt a bit more exhilarated. She offered her hand.

"My name is Savannah,' she took a deep sniff. "I don't know if I mentioned that." @sunflowerswriting

jean really had little idea how he got here. tinder wasn't his usual way of dating - in fact, he very rarely dated at all. but the criminal knew that he'd been lonelier recently than ever before and that was quickly becoming a problem. so he'd picked up his phone on a whim and signed up for a dating app - which led him here, with erin. erin who was inviting him back to her apartment. "what if i was like a serial killer?" its out of his mouth before he can think better of it. "and now you're inviting me back to yours." and then he had a horrifying thought. "not that i'm judging you for that! it's just like, what if?"

Erin swayed back and forth. She hadn't been on a Tinder date in over six months, and though that wasn't a long time, the weed had fucked up her memory a lot. Two days felt like two weeks. Six months felt like... whatever.

"Looks like they're closed,' she said, wincing at the sign in front of the brewery they had planned to meet at for their first date. Erin shrugged.

"We can go back to mine?" @sunflowerswriting

dakota was coming down from the high of being on stage when her dressing room door opened. glancing up into the mirror, they immediately rolled their eyes at the sight of their ex. "fucks sake," they muttered, annoyance immediately rolling off of them. "actually, yeah," nodding their head, blonde hair cascading down their shoulders as they wiped sweat from their forehead. "i wouldn't say i'm becoming the next taylor swift - different genre's and all - but she's onto something with all those broken-hearted exes songs she makes." rolling her eyes, she began to pack up her shit, ignoring slater until it became unbearable. "so what," she asked, voice condescending, "you come here just to tell me how great my show was?"

CLOSED STARTER FOR: @sunflowerswriting !

COMING HERE WAS A MISTAKE . slater knows it . they knew it the moment they bought the ticket . they knew it the moment they showed up to the small, intimate, venue . they knew it the moment they took their seat, the moment dakota came out onto the stage and everyone but slater started clapping . they knew it because even though it's been almost a fucking year since they've seen each other, their breath still catches just a bit as dakota steps out on the stage . they knew it because half the fucking music fell away as their eyes met through the crowd, and for just a minute slater forgot how royally pissed she was at the whole album thing . so yeah, as slater is led to dakota's dressing room by some random security guy, they know this is a bad idea . but they won't admit it . they step into the room and all at once remember that they're kind of supposed to be pissed off . that their ex wrote an album about them, songs about them . they'd like to think it's the rage making them kind of warm as the door opens and their eyes meet . "great show ." slater says, and the words are sharp enough to sound almost sarcastic, even if they aren't, truly . dakota's show was great . they're talented . slater knows that . can see it . it would probably be easier to see if the songs weren't fucking about her, but, well — "tell me, is there any more of our dirty laundry you wanna air out to the world ?" slater closes the door behind her with firmness as her brow arches, her head tilting as she continues to hiss, "y'know, just so i can be prepared this time before i feature in your next number one hit ?"

dakota had heard that alanis was performing tonight. they truly didn't know what they hoped to accomplish by being here but as soon as they'd heard the news, they knew that they would come. it was insane but whenever their ex was concerned, logic seemingly flew out the window when it came to alanis. including following her straight to the bar after she'd gotten offstage and eyeing someone severely who seemed to be extra interested in alanis and was making eyes nearby at her. "nice set tonight," dakota stated, voice boyish and deep. "you always were so fucking pretty up there."

@sunflowerswriting liked for a starter:

the last thing alanis had wanted that night was to see that familiar face in the crowd, the one person she had begged to stop showing up because it was embarrassing to sing songs about a dead relationship when the other person was in the room. the only person there who could actually fully relate to her lyrics and know intimately what pain she was singing about, and they sat near the front of the stage, almost baiting her to sing her scorn to their face. she wouldn't give them the satisfaction, she kept her eyes focused anywhere but them, doe eyes screwed shut for the majority of the show like that would help her forget they were there. it didn't. when the show finally ended and they'd said their thank yous to the venue, she darted off stage, heading straight to the bar while her bandmates disappeared backstage, whispering to themselves about what had ruffled up the feathers of their little songbird.

if he knew how she truly thought of him, things might be different; he might feel some semblance of self-confidence. but really, that's impossible. so he only feels a bit of trepidation at the idea of posing for her, and for other people to see it. "no, no, that makes sense." he nods, like he knows anything about art besides writing. "i guess it wouldn't be any different than getting undressed to go swimming," and just like that, his confidence comes back to him in a moment of explaining that to himself. "no, i can do it." he nods, assured. "i think it will look very cool at the end of all the work."

it's the sheepishness with which he responds that had sylvie wanting to ask in the first place. he's so beautiful, so gentle, that she had to immortalize him somehow. make sure that years from now, people will see him as she did, remember that he existed and keep his memory alive. humans don't get to live very long, but art is forever. even if her work was destroyed, the people who'd seen it and felt an emotional response to it would remember, would carry that feeling with them for the rest of their lives as they engaged with the world, and there would be traces of them scattered throughout history. who knows which works of art, now forgotten, have shaped her now? it was one of those things sylvie liked to think about, though she pushes it back in favor of responding to jupiter.

"a lot of posing, mainly," she says, "but not in the nude. maybe shirtless, if you're comfortable with that? i wanted it to be like, somebody half-submerged in the water, reaching out, just their torso up, and i guess it wouldn't make so much sense to be fully clothed, you know?" her cheeks flush. "but i can work around it if you'd rather keep a shirt on. it might look cool, the fabric."

"right, yeah, i hadn't - i didn't know the time." he tries to play it off but she calls him on it. he wishes things were different - that they could go back to normal so badly. but now he knows that she has feelings for him too and that's such a nagging thought at the back of his head in every interaction they share. "i'm just..." he starts and then stops, leaving the thought unfinished. he's just lost. he doesn't know what to do. "i think i'm going to go home." nodding, that sounds like a good plan. "i'll leave you my keys and i'll walk."

“ready to— but it’s not even midnight yet,” her smile faltered, falling completely moments later as she fought through her drunken haze to see what was wrong, “you’re acting really weird tonight, you’re never like this when we go out together.” stepping towards him, katia placed a hand naturally on his arm, attempting to offer whatever comfort she could. things between them haven’t sailed as smoothly since they’d both confessed the feelings they hid, but she thought when they agreed that potentially ruining their friendship wasn’t worth the risk, things would go back to normal. those were naive thoughts, apparently. “you know you can still tell me if something’s wrong, right? you can still come to me for anything.”