#her name is Liselle. she is my baby

[arachniasbride]

Look around We made a garden of the love we found So many reasons I would fight to stay You're the courage when I fade Take a look at what we've made

get to know me: [1/?] games

[abstracthappiness]

microfiction, October 9 - 15

“This night will end when you tell me you love me,” the sorcerer declared. How unfortunate—he cast an ironclad spell on a princess already cursed with the inability to lie. Twenty years pass. Both are still trapped in that garden, ageless, caught in an endless midnight.

-

I wrote my name in the dust to prove I was here. I felt my time counting down—ghosts can only haunt a place for so long. Dawn will evict me from this house, leaving me in the unknown light. I waited, staring out at the night, and the night stared back at me.

-

When you stumble out of the nightmare, you can’t remember your own name. For a moment, you are Nobody. You smell like monsters and can’t quite convince yourself that it’s not real—you’re out, you’re safe, just look at your hands—flesh sloughing off to expose bare bone—

-

Our first mistake was leaving the house; the second, going to the graveyard without proper protection. The witches’ grimoire was buried beneath the northern stone cross. The second we dug it up, we were betrayed—the Brothers surrounded us.

-

“I spy with my little eye…a witch’s eye! There—catch it!” There followed utter chaos, near-misses of flyswatters and bug-nets—all to catch a dead man’s eye, fluttering about on enchanted wings. And elsewhere, the witch herself, watching and cackling at their antics.

-

The seraphim think they are safe—but those who’ve fallen before are drawn to the fresh sulphur scent, to the celestial power not yet faded from heaven-glazed feathers. They cannibalize their brothers’ wings, underscore their fall from grace with kin’s blood.

-

I’m walking with the one I love, and I am so happy. The bridge we’re on crumbles behind us, but somehow it doesn’t matter…until the one I love says, “How did you get here?” and pushes me off— I jolt awake, alone in bed. Something hammers at the door. It’s time to run.

-

Lisel is haunted, attracting ghosts like moths to a flame. She can’t keep them out. They come in the night, turning her dreams to nightmares, whispering—how they died, who they left behind—tell him I loved him—kill her for me—find my baby—bury me, bury me, bury me—

-

Their teacher didn’t waste any time. “I know you’re scared, he said, in a tone that was almost compassionate. Then he sneered. “Not nearly scared enough. Make one mistake, and the Creature will rend you limb from limb. Watch, listen, and learn—or die.”

-

The stones beneath the willow tree are full of words. Put one to your ear like a seashell, it will whisper a tale or two—for a bit of coin or a bit of blood. Some of those stories are true and some are false—but isn’t that the way of the world?

//

read more on twitter: kattra | prompts: vss365 / FromOneLine / vssParanormal / vssHauntedHouse / WeirdMicro / whistpr / SciFanSat / SciFiFri / vssDaily

[pjo-hoo-toa-freakazoid]

I just thought of something so now I have MORE questions lmao

WHY DID EROS HAVE 2 CHILDREN AT THE SAME TIME IF HE KNEW THEY WOULD TRY TO KILL EACH OTHER AND THAT PSYCHE COULD ONLY GIVE HER BLESSING TO ONE OF THEM?? THATS KINDA FUCKING STUPID

Ik most Eros kids don't feel most emotions, but I get the feeling that most of them also didnt become serial killers so like honestly Seb honey what are you doing with ur life dude??

ALSO!! In mythology Eros and Psyche ACTUALLY DO HAVE A GODLY CHILD LOL, her names Hedone and she's the personification of bliss, so what does she think of Eros kids? Does she see them as her siblings (like Psyche) or is she just kinda like "Oh yeah these are my half siblings, they're kinda crazy but it's okay, because my mom likes them"? WHAT IS HER OPINION OF SEB.

Does Seb just automatically dislike Apollo kids because of the rivalry between Eros and Apollo? Does he feel the need to be better than them/murder them?

OKAY IM DONE NOW I THINK

(Although I do have feral thoughts that I will send in a different ask)

- 🌕 (Moon Anon)

Ask me questions about my OC

Yep yep go feral my beloved 🌕

Also long post!! Everything’s under the cut ->

Ok my friend @theevanparker has a separate HC on that. It’ll be better if they explain this cuz mine is a bit more complicated.

1) Just going to clarify and say that he can have multiple kids at a time (then he goes on haitus for 20 years lmao) HOWEVER Eros kids have a low survival rate, most of em die even before they are born (this it is related to the people Eros had children with, they are often dumped harshly and left with a lot of turmoil). Seb and Lisel were the only ones that survived that year.

^ About the Psyche blessing thing…I have no clue what to say cuz that wasn’t my HC and was made by @theevanparker . I am only limited to Sebastian and his version of an Eros Kid. If u want Lisel’s version then Evan’s your person to talk to!!

All I can say is that it probably had to do with the fact that when seb and Lisel were conceived. Them being born so early caused some confusion. BUT! in my OC!Canon Sebastian’s mother hid from Psyche thinking she was going to kill her and take away the child.

2) Yep emotions are a burden but thanks to the blessing they have some of it under control. In Seb’s case he is completely oblivious. There are two reasons he became a serial killer:

As I had mentioned before. He has this weird goal to prove that he’s strong despite being a kid of the Love god. Also his first kill was his cabinmate, and in midst of hiding his crime the emotion of fear/anxiety was triggered. Of course Seb didn’t know what this feeling was and couldn’t process it but whatever it was, it felt good. So Seb kept wanting to feel it, since this was the first time he showed signs of any emotions.

Sebastian always wants to be entertained. He was bored with his life. And he finds a certain thrill in killing Romans, one: because of the ancient rivalry, two: it triggers fear in him of getting caught and being punished (as stated above). Maybe also likes how infamous he is.

(TL;DR: He got hella bored and drunk on fear)

3) Yeah I know about Hedone!! But she doesn’t have much involvement in the plot so I don’t quite mention her here. Yep it’s exactly how you said she’s kind like her mother but sassy like her dad so she loves her half siblings (it gets quite lonely in the palace and the company is great, except on family game nights 💀) but does often show her discomfort when they are being too feral.

She thinks Seb is way too much of a menace and threat, however does not approach him cuz he’s scary ASF. She’s only personally seen him as a baby (disguised as a nurse when he was born)

4) No tbh!! I hadn’t really thought about this but it’s a great idea!!!! Also adds a new level of irony on Seb and Octavian’s relationship!!!!

I think not but he sure does love pissing them off since they seem to show a greater reaction than others. No intentions of murder but if they are Romans then he’s gonna bring out the stabby stick.

Thank you for the ask moon!!! Have a great day 💜🌸💜💜

[emmett-the-wrighter]

Eau de Memory

“Write about a character who smells something familiar and is instantly taken back to the first moment they smelled it.“

People smell.

No matter where they come from, what they do for a living, or how much effort they put into it, the odor of human society is a mix of perfumes, cologne, deodorant, eau de whatevers, and even the dreaded BO. Hell, there’s even articles about “why does my lover’s sweat smell so good” for those poor souls who don’t realize that it’s all about sex. Sex is sweaty. Sweat reminds you of sex. Especially the person you tend to sweat and sex with the most.

Go ahead. Look it up.

For my family, scent is everything. From my great-great-(insert a few more greats) grandfather, putting together oils and herbs to mask his daily labors from his wife’s rather more delicate sensibilities to my sister Clara’s “Mix and Make” suburban scent shop, perfume is life. Hygiene is life. Even as toddlers, none of us were allowed out of the house until we were thoroughly bathed (scentless soap to not clash), shampooed (also scentless), deodorized (I bet you can guess what kind), and perfumed. A different scent each day.

You can imagine that my sisters and I grew up slightly neurotic about smells. The slightest whiff of something unpleasant is enough to make us feel green, even today. Even as adults, in an adult world and with adult smells, we try to mask it from our noses in our own little bubble of Dior Hypnotic Poison.

And that was how we could drift along in our little sheltered bubble, in a world we made to smell fresh and clean and perfect. Just as long as you didn’t look too closely, of course.

Now, someone might think to call us snobbish and entitled.

They are absolutely, one hundred percent, completely and totally correct. What sort of family can afford to perfume fucking babies for crying out loud? Really godawfully rich ones, that’s who. Probably the only reason Clara and I weren’t bullied for smelling like a couple of fruitcakes is that the private school we went to was full of other kids as pampered and wacko as we were. None of us had any idea what normal people were like. We didn’t get that until our twenties, and even then we were safely ensconced in a buffer of social events and trust funds.

Boohoo, I’m so rich, poor me.

It wasn’t all like that. Not for me, at least.

Clara was content to coast along on our parents’ money and support. Her shop is “owned” and run by her, with mom’s name on the papers and a joint bank account so they can make sure she’s spending money wisely. Wisely, as in, not doing anything without telling them first.

And the reason I’m sitting here in the back room of a Starbucks, faithfully spritzing my wrists with a three-dollar bottle of Target perfume is that I didn’t want that kind of looming presence. My life is my life, and sure I’ll keep doing the ritual of smells because it’s all I know, but every other part of my day is mine and mine alone.

Emphasis on alone.

I tuck the bottle back into my bag, and smooth the rumples from my green apron. The murmur of voices and sounds of the espresso machine are comforting, as is the ever-present aroma of coffee. Not much can punch through the coffee smell, and with every different type comes a different scent or taste. Sometimes I feel like I can even smell the texture of the beans- especially the ones gone bad or stale. It’s a vicious pleasure of mine to pick those out so they can be banished.

Some people say that every type of coffee smells or tastes the same.

Those people are idiots.

No offense.

I push my way through the door and take up my place behind the register, nodding briefly to my coworker Har- something. Harold? Harry? Harlequin? It’s too late to peer back at his nametag that I’ve been meaning to glance at ever since he was hired a week ago. But awkwardly never using his name in conversation has been working out for me so far.

A line hasn’t formed yet, at least. We’re still a few minutes off from the very earliest of the lunch rush.

I shift my weight from side to side, idly adjusting some cups in their upside-down stacks. I could do something more, like clean a counter or prepare the cup of ice water that I know I’ll need after ten minutes of taking orders, but the cups just felt like they needed attention.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the door swing open.

The practiced smile I had sculpted over many sessions in front of my mirror slides neatly into place as I raise my gaze towards the customer making his way before me. But even before I can process what he looks like, the smell hits me like a resounding smack to the jaw, cutting through the coffee, the woodsy smell of my own hastily dabbed scent, the lingering over-spritzed rose of my manager’s visit an hour ago.

Acrid and tangy, the man’s overpowering scent collects in the back of my throat and sticks there like a glob of burnt tar. It is both sharp and clammy, and I find I can’t even swallow past it. It’s like no sooner does it pass through my nose than it becomes something physical, clogging up my nose and throat and burning up through my eyes.

“Kgh,” is all I can say as I realize I am at the top of my grandma’s porch steps, looking down at the boy with bright blue eyes standing before me.

“Hello,” he says. His smile is tentative and shy and he holds a little wooden box in his hands. “Do you want a gift?”

I purse my lips and wrinkle my nose against the smell. “You smell bad,” I say, with all the candor of youth. “Why would I want a gift from you?”

Instead of growing angry or upset, the boy laughs. “So do you!”

“You take that back!” My fists ball up at my sides, and I stamp my foot. That’ll show him. “I smell like Bergamot and Rose today.”

“How do you know?”

“Mother said so.”

He lifts the box towards me, and my breath catches in my throat as the acrid smell grows stronger. My stomach roils, protesting the thick grossness of the scent. “Won’t you just look?”

I gross my arms and stick my chin up. “Show me, then.”

He slides his hand across the lid of the box and unclasps the shiny brass keeping it shut. With the faintest creak of hidden hinges, the boy opens the box. I lean forward to peer at the glass bottle inside.

“It’s perfume?” Confusion colors my voice. “But why do you smell so bad?”

He shrugs. “Try it.”

I look briefly back to the house. “What’s it called? I might already have it.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“Tell me!”

He inclines his chin. “Limbo. It’s new.”

That sounds like nothing I had ever used before. Maybe Mother didn’t have it. Maybe even Father didn’t have it, though I knew his collection was vast.

“So why are you giving it to me?”

He shrugs again, a quick up-down of a single shoulder. “You like perfume, don’t you?”

“I love perfume.”

The boy smiles. “That’s why.” He hesitates, his mouth open, and his gaze flickers beyond me to the opening door of the house.

“What are you doing?” My sister says. She comes out onto the porch with her nails newly painted green and in an identical dress to mine. Her face screws up as she catches the same smell as I had. “What is that?”

“He’s offering me a gift,” I say. I’m not bragging at all, of course.

Not much, at least.

“Both of you, if you’d like,” the boy says, stealing all of my thunder.

I cross my arms. “Well, then, I don’t want it. You smell bad anyway.”

My sister’s eyes fall on the box and the bottle within. “Perfume?” Without any of my hesitation, she trips lightly down the steps and snatches up the bottle. She sniffs at it and pulls off the cap. Another sniff. “I don’t smell anything.”

“You just have to try it,” the boy says.

She shrugs and spritzes the perfume once on her wrist before raising it to her nose.

I watch, my lips pushing up into a pout. It was supposed to be my gift anyway.

“You don’t even smell bad anymore!” my sister says with wonder. Her eyes lift to the boy’s, delight bursting in her voice. “This is amazing!”

I approach, wrinkling my nose against the boy’s stench. Immediately, my sister frowns at me. “Ugh… you reek.”

Horror sends a shocked gasp from my mouth. “I do not!”

“Yes you do!” She pushes me back. “Go away, smelly!”

Angry tears prick in my eyes and I fling myself back up the stairs and through the door, bawling out, “MOM! MO-OM! Liselle says I smell bad!”

Oh right.

I hadn’t mentioned her yet, had I?

Something had happened that day, flipping my other sister’s sense of smell completely upside-down. All of a sudden, the worst things smelled as sweet as flowers to her. And anything that smelled good to us, was utterly revolting.

It didn’t last too long before my parents couldn’t take it anymore.

Sometimes I really miss-

“-you there? Miss?”

The voice snaps me from my reverie, the smell hitting me all over again. I finally look up, my teeth gritting together, to meet those brilliant blue eyes.

"What can I get for you?"

“A Venti White Chocolate Mocha,” the man says. And he smiles.

Written for Reedsy Contest #61. https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/contests/61/submissions/36310/

[pjo-hoo-toa-freakazoid]

This is just me asking random questions about Seb bec I'm bored:

What's Sebs favourite food/candy?

If he could pick a favorite person (WHO WASNT HIMSELF), who would he pick?

Did he choose the name Sebastian or did someone else give him it?

If Eros didn't make Seb fall for Octavian, who would he have made him fall for and why?

- 🌕 (Moon Anon)

Ask me questions about my OC

Hello moon!!!!!!!🌸💜

Seb really loves curried lobster (and that one specific dish from a very fancy restaurant.) His favourite sweet (not candy) is Barfi (Indian milk-based sweet)

Lmao u knew he’d pick himself over anything 😂😂. I guess it’d be either his sibling Lisel or Bryce Lawrence.

He got the name Sebastian from one of the nuns in the Church he was left as a baby. story behind this is that she actually lost her son, and Seb reminded her of him. She took care of him till he was given away to his guardians. So as to forget her, he carved the name on his arm with a sharp pencil. So no matter what people call him he’ll always be labelled as Sebastian and Sebastian only (this is why he hates pet names).

It would be either Percy or Annabeth. Seb already had a rivalry with Percy for popularity. And Eros very well knew about it, however changed his mind cuz he thought making Seb like the same thing he hates would be more painful. Eros wanted to make Sebastian suffer for not taking up to offer to work for him. And Eros accomplished it, cuz Seb’s end was pretty sad and painful.

Msmsmsks we love ourselves some Seb facts👉🏼👉🏼

[pjo-hoo-toa-freakazoid]

Hi yes hello it is me yet again,

Firstly - WHAT. SEB TRIED TO KIDNAP OCTAVIAN?? YOU CANT JUST DROP SOMETHING LIKE THAT CASUALLY AND NOT ELABORATE????? (This is me saying please tell me more, whilst simultaneously freaking out lol) /nm

Second - how does Seb talk to other people, I know that's a dumb question but like, how does he interact with them? Is he polite, rude, sarcastic, kind, please I need this for... reasons that definitely don't involve my google docs

Third and finally - does Seb use pet names, if he does, in what tone usually and which ones is he preferable to?

Thank you!! Sorry I ask so many questions so often lol, I'm just really invested now, ur just so cool!

- 🌕 (Moon Anon)

Ask me questions about my OC

MOON!!!!!! HELLO!!!!💜💜🌸 ask me as many Ws as you want bb🥲🥺✨and tysm🥲🥲💜🌸💜🌸💜

1) Actually Seb successfully kidnapped Tavvy!

Referring to previous post, Seb was under the enchantment of the love arrow, so he wasn’t in the right state of mind as he hadn’t fully succumb to the arrow’s power making him feel unstable. During this period, he kidnapped Octavian and locked him up in his apartment thinking that his weakness was due to Tav. Big mistake cuz Octavian’s presence made the spell stronger and now Seb was completely under the arrow’s power.

So basically that’s were the whole “my powers aren’t working on this Roman guy” arc starts, which frustrated Seb causing him to beat up Octavian and trap him in the apartment for 5 days before letting him go. (Of course he stalked Tav later on).

2) Seb doesn’t have the best social skills, and is often described to be insensitive and cocky. If he’s targeting a person, he’ll act like a true gentleman (however being verbally abusive), but with others he’ll simply ignore them. There’s A LOT of sarcasm.

With his sibling, Lisel (@theevanparker) he acts like any other bratty younger brother would. But is more obedient.

With Tav he’s a mix of all…just a tad bit more cocky.

aLsO..GoOgLe DoCs eh? 👀👀👀✨✨✨SKSKSKSKDK AHHHHHHHHH

3) Yep Seb uses pet names but not for himself. He doesn’t even like being called Seb 😂. But he LOVES using funny pet names for others.

The most used pet names are Babe/love/baby cuz this guy has dated so many people in his life. Also he never bothered to remember any of their names so this saved him.

Special nicknames for and by peeps who are closest to him:

He calls his sibling, Bosshole, cuz Lisel is strict with Seb lol. Lisel in turn calls him “Tree bitch”

He calls Lyria (his ex, Oc of @whatrambles). Lyre, like the instrument, cuz she was “as beautiful as the lyre’s music”. Another name he uses for her is, Princess. Not sure what she calls him, I gotta ask😅

He calls Octavian, teddy bear. Cuz he wants to rip him apart, limb from limb, and throw him into fire, the same way Octavian does with the stuffed animals he uses for auguries.

Tav in turn calls him “how tf did you get in my room? Get tf out” (pffft- jk. Tav has no nicknames for seb)

skskskskskskdkdkdjdhs😭😭 tysm for the fic I’m literally screaming😭💜🌸💜🌸 super excited for it😭😭😭😭💜🌸💜💜💜💜💜💜ahhhhhhhh