#and then getting the inspiration to finish a draft

[levandright]

BEST FOR YOU ✦ P.SH

pairings : ex! sunghoon x fem reader & jay x fem reader ୨ৎ content / warning(s) : hurt with comfort, sunghoon gets closure ୨ৎ word count : 1.5k

synopsis. sunghoon reflects on his past relationship with you, feeling the weight of your breakup and the distance that has grown between you. as he sees you move on, he is reminded of your shared memories and the love you once had. coming to terms with the changes in your lives, sunghoon finds peace, wishing you well as he lets go of the past and the connection you once shared. lev notes : this is inspired by the song best for you by slchld <3 i actually cried when i first finished writing the draft which was shorter (around 700 words) and this is my first ever angst!! hopefully it doesn't dissapoint >.> i genuinely had such a hard time writing some parts but i pulled through with the power of friendship!!

sunghoon sat in his room, the dim light of his desk lamp casting shadows against the walls. the air conditioning hummed softly, the only sound filling the silence of the quiet evening. he leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as his gaze drifted to the window. the stillness in the air matched the quiet that had settled within him—a feeling he couldn’t shake, no matter how many times he tried to distract himself.

there was something about the loneliness tonight that felt different. it wasn’t just the silence that made it seem so heavy, but the creeping ache in his chest that had been growing for months, ever since your breakup. sometimes, in the middle of a busy day, he would forget that the person who used to be at the center of his world was no longer there. but in moments like this, when it was just him and solitude, the reality of it all hit harder than he cared to admit.

the soft glow of his phone screen illuminated his face as he unlocked it, absentmindedly scrolling through his instagram feed. it wasn’t like he was looking for anything specific—just trying to fill the emptiness in the room with something, anything. his thumb paused when he saw your post. you were smiling brightly, laughing with your friends at some outdoor café. the image felt almost surreal to him.

he had never been the type to go through his ex’s social media, not anymore. but today, something had drawn him in. he couldn’t help but wonder how you were doing, how you were living your life without him. it had been a while since you breakup, and he had been trying his best to move on, to accept that things were over between you two. but seeing you this happy, living the life you’d always dreamed of—it hurt.

your smile was the same as it had always been, bright and effortless. but now it wasn’t for him. it wasn’t because of him. that realization hit harder than he expected. his heart clenched, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

he continued scrolling through your feed, stopping at another post—a picture of you and him, taken months ago at the park. he remembered that day so clearly, the way the sunlight had filtered through the trees and made everything glow. it had been a perfect day, one that had felt like it would last forever. how naive he had been, thinking that nothing could tear you apart.

but everything had changed.

back then, you and sunghoon had been inseparable. high school sweethearts. you had shared everything with each other: dreams, laughter, and even the inevitable frustrations of growing up. you were each other’s safe haven. but life had a funny way of pushing people in different directions, of breaking apart the very things that once seemed unbreakable.

he remembered the late nights he’d stayed up studying, only to have you call him crying, talking about how much the distance between you two was weighing on your heart. and then there were the times he was too exhausted from his part-time job to really listen, too caught up in his own world to hear the desperation in your voice. he was juggling university, work, and trying to hold onto a relationship that was slowly slipping through his fingers.

sunghoon had never been good at balancing everything. he had never been great at handling the outbursts or the tantrums that sometimes came from the overwhelming pressure of your long-distance relationship. back then he had only been able to offer quick reassurances, tired words that meant little in the face of your pain. and when the break-up came, it felt like a punch to the gut.

the reason you drifted apart was simple, yet so complicated at the same time. you both had grown, and in that process, you had grown away from each other. the person he was back then, caught between uni and a part-time job, he had failed to truly see the depth of what you needed. and now looking back, he wished he could have done better.

"i should have tried harder," he whispered to himself. "i should have been there more."

but that didn’t change anything now. he couldn’t go back in time and fix his mistakes. all he had now were memories, and the reality that those memories would never become anything more.

the pain of that realization had hit hardest after the breakup, it felt like the ground had shifted beneath him. for so long, he had imagined his future with you. suddenly, he was adrift, lost in a world that no longer made sense. he remembers nights lying awake, replaying the last few months of your relationship, questioning what he could have done differently, feeling anger, confusion, and heartache twist together inside him.

eventually, he learned to let go of the resentment, to see things with a little more clarity. you both had grown, and sometimes people simply grow in different directions. even now, he knows that his feelings for you haven’t faded, that part of him will always love you in some quiet, unspoken way. but he’s come to accept that you’re better off without him, that he needs to let you go fully.

and then, one night, it happens. he’s scrolling again, mindlessly, when he sees it. a new photo—one that’s different from the rest. you’re standing next to someone, a guy with an easy smile and a warm, gentle presence. jay.

jay, sunghoon had heard about him from mutual friends. he was kind, thoughtful, everything sunghoon wished he could have been for you back then. and now, it was clear: you had found someone new. someone who made you happy. someone who could give you everything he couldn’t.

sunghoon sat back in his chair, feeling a lump rise in his throat. it felt like the final confirmation that you had truly moved on, that his place in your life was nothing more than a shadow now. he’d always imagined a future with you. he’d imagined growing old together, supporting each other through everything life threw at you. but now, all he had were his memories—and even those felt like they were fading, slowly but surely.

he looked at the photo again, your smile still as bright as ever, but this time, it wasn’t for him. it was for jay. and a strange peace settled over him. you had found love again. you were with someone who made you feel the way you deserved to feel.

sunghoon took a deep breath and opened your chat. he had been avoiding it for so long, unsure of what to say, but now he knew. he wanted to reach out one last time. he didn’t expect anything in return, but he needed to say what was in his heart. after all, he had never been good at letting go, but it was time.

his fingers hovered over the keyboard as he searched for the right words. they trembled slightly as he types:

“hey y/n… i saw your post. i just wanted to say, i’m really happy for you. you deserve all the happiness in the world, and i know jay will treat you the way you’ve always deserved to be treated. thank you for everything, for all the memories. i’ll always wish you the best.”

he paused, staring at the message for a moment before pressing “send.” a weight lifted off his shoulders as soon as he did, his heart heavy yet at peace. by saying goodbye in that simple message, he was letting go, wishing you well—even though he knew he’d never see your smile in person again.

sunghoon sat back in his chair, his eyes drifting back to the photo of you and jay, the one that had started all of this. for the first time in months, he wasn’t angry or sad. he wasn’t resentful. instead, he felt an odd sense of closure, a peaceful acceptance that the two of you were no longer meant to be.

his mind wandered back to the first time he saw you, in the school library. you had been sitting at a table, a pile of books in front of you, your head slightly down as you concentrated. when your eyes met his, you smiled shyly, and something in him had shifted. it was as if the world had slowed down just for that moment. that smile had been the first spark, the first flicker of something that would grow into an overwhelming love. that first smile had stayed with him, a memory he carried through every moment you shared.

“i fell for you right then,” sunghoon whispered to the empty room. ���and i think, a part of me will always love you.”

he closed his eyes and leaned back, letting the memory of that smile wash over him. it was bittersweet, but in that moment, he finally understood. you had been his first love, and though that chapter had closed, it would always be a part of him. and that was enough.

he whispered a final goodbye to himself, letting the memory fade into the stillness of the night. with it, he carried a silent promise to move forward, even if it meant holding a small piece of you with him forever.

as he drifted off to sleep that night, he silently wished you well, hoping that wherever life took you, you would find everything you were looking for—and more.

perm taglist. @honeychocos @honeybelleee @manaah02 (open!)

©levandright

[stargirl-russo]

Sailor Song (Alessia Russo x Reader)

Summary: Joining Arsenal WFC was supposed to be the best thing for your footballing career, you were the best female footballer in the world after all. You didn't expect the unexpected longing of a certain blonde that came with it. (Hi! I've never written fan fics before but I was inspired by some I read and thought why not?! i hope you like it, i honestly might delete later or return it to drafts if I can? or even a pt 2??? idk lmk if you want more! enjoy. do I need to add warnings>....suggestive? angst? )

Recalling the exact moment when it happened was difficult to comprehend, maybe because you tried to completely erase the moment from your memory. You felt embarrassed, ashamed, and even a little disgraced with yourself. Why did you have to like another girl, a straight girl, who definitely didn't feel the same?!

Joining Arsenal this season was exactly what both parties wanted - you needed a change in scenery, and they wanted - no needed - a more clinical finisher like yourself. Everyone at the team was especially welcoming, considering your intimidating resume of accolades at such a young age - taking the women's football world by storm. You got on with everyone on the team, especially the Aussies, Kyra, Steph and Caitlin - being Australian yourself. But one particular teammate stood out to you the most, for more reasons than one.

You'd never forget the first day you finally saw and met the Alessia Russo in person, after admiring her from afar for about a year. She was absolutely beautiful, incredibly captivating and alluring. Words couldn't explain how you felt when you saw her at training, or heard her laugh or when she would smile - which was always. The way your heart hammered against your chest, it felt like you couldn't breathe, the butterflies in your stomach erupted like crazy. These feelings, they just felt...right. She made you feel so giddy and happy.

Although the thrill of this girl crush was very exciting, a part of you couldn't help but feel extremely ashamed. You were not supposed to like a teammate, let alone girls. You couldn't help but admire her gorgeous blue eyes, her long lashes, her soft voice, and her long blonde hair as you smiled shyly and shook her perfectly manicured hand, introducing yourself. Her southern british accent made you weak in the knees. "I can't wait to share the pitch with you this season."

You were absolutely certain that no one knew about this infatuation, crush or admiration, or how down bad you were - whatever you wanted to call it - with Alessia Russo. It was just so easy to get along with her, your calm natured and laid-back personalities working well together. Both sharing certain things in common, attending the same college in the US for football at different years, your love for fashion, travelling, and similar music tastes. She was just so sweet, genuine, caring, and just a ray of sunshine - you couldn't get enough. The chemistry you both had was clearly evident on the pitch also, as your styles of play complemented each other perfectly; turning arsenal's season around with each match.

It scared you how you strongly you felt about her, as she probably had no idea about the effect she had on you, and above all, probably didn't feel the same. And now you were going to continue to play alongside her and work with her nearly every day this season. You'd eagerly wait to see your cheerful teammate and greet her happily weekly at training. It was a blessing and a curse, but it was something that kept you going.

Hiding your sexuality was something you had no trouble dealing with initially as you just constantly immersed yourself with the football: whether it was with routine season interviews, the sponsorship photoshoots, the constant training or the glamorous award shows - it kept you busy, a distraction which led to you further cementing your place as the best young women's footballer in the world. It's not anything anyone really expected of you anyway, to like girls. Besides, you never spoke about personal matters to the media, so no one really assumed anything at first. Which was a plus.

You'd constantly make excuses to avoid going out with friends away from football, who wanted to enjoy a night on the town, bragging about the boys they'd make out with at clubs, or the crushes they had on them. Not that you could relate though, but a part of you wished you could feel that sense of normalcy. To fit in, to relate. No one had no idea what you were going through or how you felt. It got harder to find excuses to deny random set ups with guys. Your feelings for Alessia were actually driving you to insanity, you were most likely going through an identity crisis - but you were still in denial.

However, the longer you concealed your true feelings and the harder you tried to deny it, you found it harder each and every day hiding how you felt about the certain blonde. It became more difficult to suppress your feelings, you wanted to talk to someone, - anyone - but you were afraid with how they would react if they found out. Besides you weren't going to embarrass yourself if she didn't even feel the same, what would be the point of coming out anyway right?!

But maybe you should've controlled yourself. You should have ignored her, distanced yourself even. It was fine though, you were just acknowledging that fact she was really gorgeous, and you weren't crushing on her - or so you told yourself. But the not-so-subtle glances at her during the training sessions said otherwise.

The glancing became constant, admiring her whenever she'd move with or without the ball or take a drink of water during break. You just couldn't help but admire her longingly. Thinking of believable excuses when being called out by the outspoken Katie McCabe became more difficult to articulate. You were certain Alessia was oblivious to this, and she was - for the time being.

It was supposed to be a post game interview focusing on the team's accomplishments this current season, given the difficulties the team faced at the beginning of the year. You expected to answer questions about your valuable contributions to the match and the squad, not some irrelevant, personal, stupid, phased, feelings that had nothing to do with football.

The lights were brighter than usual in the media room, you were riding a high after your incredible individual and team's performance. You couldn't stop smiling. Sitting in the media room alongside your captain Kim Little, you felt proud and finally content with yourself. You felt as if you were finally contributing to a team, a team that was winning. A distraction for the time being.

That is, until the question was asked.

You will never forget the way your stomach dropped at the question, the silence in the media room, the smirk on the reporters' face. He knew he struck a nerve as the colour drained from your face, you were no longer smiling. You're not sure why the question was asked or what value it had to the match you had just played, or above all - why this reporter was permitted into the the media room anyway asking such inconceivable questions.

You shook your head awaking from the absolute shock and audacity of the reporter. There is no way this is really happening right now. You were media trained - you got this. Totally.

'Could you please repeat the question?' You asked politely into the mic, besides the fact that your was voice now quiet and shaky as you squirmed in your seat, refusing to look at the reporter. He noticed your uneasy reaction, and pressed on, knowing there is more to what your letting on.

"Can you address the rumours within the women's football community that you currently have romantic feelings for your teammate, Alessia Russo?"

"What?! That's ridiculous. Next question."

Maybe you responded to that too quickly, way too quickly for it not to be suspicious as you dismissed him. To your knowledge, and last time you checked, you hadn't come out, you hadn't revealed how you felt about her to anyone - especially not Alessia, and you were certain someone as beautiful as her was taken - surely.....right?

Your throat was going to constrict, no doubt, your breathing becoming heavier and faster, your ears turning a bright red and your leg begins to bounce. Your eyes dart around the room. "How is this football related?" your captain Kim interjects, sensing your uncomfortable state as you fidget on the spot and find it hard to remain composed. She herself looks confused.

Both your heart and mind race. Who told them? How do they know? Where did they even think of something like that? They can't know. Does Alessia know?

You were widely aware that this post-game press conference was currently live. This didn't make the situation better. "Is there really nothing going on? You seem pretty flustered. Besides, you didn't deny it did you?" He smirked, a chorus of chuckles emerging from around the room.

"Stop instigating." The words pour out of your mouth defensively before you can stop them, let alone even comprehend what is going on. You can hear your heart beat in your ears.

"I'm not instigating anything, just trying to get the truth out of you. Why don't you start being honest? Show the world who you really are."

Your body shakes with frustration and panic, you can't do this anymore. You rush out of the media room, holding back tears of frustration. This is absolutely ridiculous you think to yourself, barging open the door of the locker-room, ignoring the looks from your teammates.

Silence fills the room, you look up at the television, seeing Kim still in the media room - the broadcast was indeed live. Shit. Alessia, along with everyone else definitely saw it. Shit. You freeze up.

Steph, your teammate turns to you "Hey, are you okay?" You refuse to say anything - afraid your voice might crack, further revealing your vulnerability. You refuse to make eye contact with anyone, especially Alessia. Steph senses the inner turmoil your enduring, and gestures everyone out of the locker-room.

You sit there with your head in your hands, as tears threaten to fall. You didn't reveal much in the post-match interview, so everything is fine right? But maybe thats the problem. You didn't deny anything technically - further exposing and embarrassing yourself and probably Alessia. You fail to notice she's still in the locker-room.

You look up slowly, locking eyes. Her ocean blue eyes bore into yours, a glimpse of concern and curiosity. "Can we talk?" She questions softly. Shit

"No thank you, I'd rather not." You say stubbornly, packing your wash bag quickly as she sits down next to you. You had to get out, you had to get away from her.

Alessia is surprised by your nonchalant response. "Lets just talk about this, please?" She says softly in a pleading voice, her eyes looking up, trying to lock with yours.

"I'm sorry." You say quietly, packing your bag and making your way towards the exit of the locker-room as fast as you can. You actually couldn't fathom that this was happening. Is this some sick joke?!

Alessia is concerned and saddened by your dismissive tone, she can tell that this whole situation has negatively affected you and is eating away at you. "Don't be sorry." She says softly, standing up. "It can be hard times, but I just want to understand whats going on. You clearly feel something. Something about me."

You stop in your tracks and turn around to face her, she makes her way towards you her eyes never leaving yours. Your heart aches, and she can see the adoration and the longing that you have for her in your eyes, behind internal conflict and self-hate.

"You're not a bad person. You know that I won't look at you differently." She whispers, pleading with you, trying to lock eyes with yours. "Please don't shut me out. I care about you, so much."

Alessia doesn't wait for a response. She steps closer to you now, closer the distance slowly. Your panting heavily, still refusing to look at her in the eyes, petrified you'd get lost in her ocean eyes. Terrified your eyes will reveal more than your words did in the press conference only moments ago. She can't feel the same. She doesn't.

She gently grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers with her ones. You feel as if you're going to have a heart attack, her touch sending bolts of electricity through your body. She can sense you're avoiding eye contact still.

"Hey, look at me" she whispers, staring at your now very flustered face, looking at you intently. Her eyes filled with concern, worry and something else, something you can't quite make out, something you've never seen from her before.

You still avoid her gaze, until she cups your cheek. You lock eyes with hers and you feel like you could die.

"just, look at me" she whispers once more, gently stroking your cheek bone with the pad of her thumb "thats it, just look at me."

Before you can stop yourself, the words fall out of your mouth in a whisper "i am. how can I not?" You let out a shaky breath at that, noticing her lips curl into a small smile, her eyes following your gaze down to her own lips.

"i know, I know you do, I see you" she whispers in response, moving closer to your face now, both your breaths mingling. Your heart continues to pound, her thumb gently traces your jawline, her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity you’ve never seen before.

Its as if time has stopped. Your heart is pounding so hard against your ribcage you might have a heart attack. But her presence, the way shes looking at you, her voice, her touch—it makes sense in ways you never expected.

And then, just as you think you can’t handle the intensity any longer, she leans in. Were you about to kiss the girl you've been in love with for so long now.....

[who-is-page]

The Sol System's Alterhuman Writing Challenge

In November 2021, we challenged ourselves to write an alterhuman-oriented piece every day until the end of November, ideally building up to 50,000 words written overall. We wanted to take this challenge up for several reasons—to help strengthen our writing habits, to set up routines during a time we normally struggle to do anything due to our seasonal depression, to finally learn to put our first drafts out there fearlessly instead of being ornery perfectionists, and to just generally get better at handling mixed reviews with our rejection sensitive dysphoria.

All in all, it was a huge success and a ton of fun-- we wrote about topics we might not have otherwise touched on, made a TTRPG, and just had a grand time overall with all the responses we got from the community. And because of that, we want to offer it to any of y'all folks who might be interested in tackling the challenge yourselves (even if it's a few days late, but who's counting?)

Here are the rules we bound ourselves by:

You must finish and publish at least one piece of writing a day, on your platform of choice—DreamWidth, Tumblr, Mastodon, PillowFort, DeviantArt, Twitter, Discord, Neocities, anywhere. It has to be publicly accessible and (if possible) tagged appropriately.

That piece of writing must either be about or in connection to alterhumanity (in general or your own), the alterhuman community, a community typically classified underneath the alterhuman umbrella, an experience related to or connected to alterhumanity, or otherwise be something inspired by alterhumanity/alterhumans/alterhuman experiences/etc. This category is meant to be as broad as possible, while still sticking to theme. Use prompts or go off the cuff, whichever works best.

Other than that, go nuts! Fiction, nonfiction, games, NSFW, do whatever you want. There is literally no limit on what type of thing you write, just that you write. You can also start a piece at any given time—for a couple of our pieces, we started them one day, after we’d already published something, and then finished them and posted them a day later. I also personally recommend dedicating one unique tag to it on your blog to help keep track, but it's your writing and your rules all the way down other than what I've listed out here.

And if you do decide to take up the challenge, consider tagging us in it! We'd love to see whatever you write!

[spiritsong]

across centuries and the void of a world, sleepless, I seek you

detail under cut ↡

[sableeira]

please humor my self-indulgent artwork for the historical AU I mentioned like half a year ago and finally started writing. Detective Dazai and swordsman-for-hire Chuuya teaming up to solve crime cases during the Meiji period ✨

close-up because after a decade on this website I still haven’t figured out how to get images to look sharp

[dont-offend-the-bees]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @justafandomfollower - cheers, m'dears!

Posting a lil sneak peek of my fic for day one of Painland Week! It's gonna undergo some re-writing/editing before the whole thing's ready to post but this is 600 rough words of a uhhhhh 4k-ish fic. No idea if I'm gonna manage fics for every day since I'm having a big pain flare-up right now but I can at least polish up the three drafts I have so far! So here you go, some sweet nonsexual dom/sub therapy for Charles for day one, love languages💛

I'm gonna tag @kieren-fucking-walker, @firstaudrina, @coloursflyaway and @theflirtmeister, plus anyone else who feels like sharing some WIP sneak peeks, consider yourself tagged!

~~

“Charles,” said Edwin again, softer this time. It was important not to go on the offensive; in his current condition, Charles was liable to take any careless word as keenly as a knife in the back. “Please tell me what’s on your mind.” After a moment’s consideration, he added: “I promise I won’t be angry.”

It felt like utter nonsense to say out loud, a patronising placation as one might give to a child. But Charles, in Edwin’s experience, responded well to directness. His panic thrived in the mires of ambiguity. 

Releasing a ragged breath, Charles rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. “Just… dunno what to do sometimes. When you two go off at each other.” He peered at Edwin with his uncovered eye, and tried for a smirk. It fell decidedly short of the carefree, playful expression it was aiming for. “Dunno what side to pick, do I?”

He voiced it like a joke, but Edwin was listening carefully and he knew an incomplete sentence when he heard it. He stepped closer and, slowly, giving him time to step back, took Charles’ free hand and squeezed the fingers. 

Charles closed his eyes, dragging his hand down his face. “Can’t keep you both happy,” he admitted on a low mumble, like it was a shameful secret. 

Guilt sank sour and heavy in Edwin’s stomach, but he carefully kept it from his face. Any indication that Charles had made him feel bad was liable to make him shut down further. “It should not be your duty to keep the peace,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I will speak to Crystal later, clear the air.”

Charles nodded, but he still stood propped against the desk and hunched unhappily in on himself. Edwin could see his brain turning itself over and over in miserable little spirals — wondering if he should have stepped in earlier, said something else, wondering what he could have done differently to make everything better. To make everyone happy. 

Edwin swallowed tightly, and placed his hand upon Charles’ shoulder. “Charles. Look at me, please.”

He did so, without question or hesitation. Responding as easily to the polite command as if it had come from his own consciousness. 

Edwin, with great care, hooked a finger through the gold chain aroudn Charles' neck, and tugged.

The effect was instantaneous. Charles’ wide, hunted eyes softened, slackened, his lined eyelids drooping. His lips parted around a quiet sigh, smoother than his last ragged exhalation, and his shoulders slumped as if a great weight had been dropped from them.

Charles was an ever-unfolding and expanding area of study; but to Edwin’s expert eye, on occasion, his needs were remarkably simple to interpret.

Meeting his now somewhat unfocused gaze, Edwin leaned in. “Put Crystal out of your mind for now,” he said, quietly commanding. “In fact, put everything out of your mind.”

“She’s upset,” Charles mumbled in protest.

“Yes — and she will continue to be so for a while longer, regardless of what you or I could say.” Edwin smoothed the collar of Charles’ polo. “When the dust has settled I will find her and smooth things over. I promise. For the time being, you’ll do none of us any good with your overthinking.”

Charles snorted. “Overthinking? Me?” he joked.

With another gentle, recriminating tug of the chain, Charles gasped and quieted.

Edwin sighed and leaned close, ‘til his nose grazed across Charles’ cheekbone. “Granted, your tendency to underthink before making dangerous choices borders on the pathological,” he teased. “But I strongly suspect you're thinking a lot of very unkind thoughts about yourself right now, and I'd like for you to stop. Please.”

Breath shuddering, Charles’ hands lifted, fisting in the front of Edwin's shirt. 

“That what you want?” He asked, his voice a small and broken thing. For all his strength of body and character, he felt as vulnerable in Edwin's hands as a baby bird.

“How about I tell you exactly what I want for a while,” Edwin offered, breathing it across the shell of Charles’ ear. “And then all you have to do is listen." He delivered a swift, dry kiss to Charles' cheekbone. "No detective work required."

~~

Full fic coming to a blog near you on August 5th! Go check out the Painland Week blog and also lmk if you wanna collab on anything, assuming I get pain flareups under control I'm hoping to write lots and lots! Already got a little collab lined up for day 2 which I'm soooo excited about 💛

[novakiart]

recovering from a bad sinus infection so am once again taking art prompts

[galaxywarp]

I started working on the outline for part 2 of my fic today

[ Over these last few months, there are numerous times when Angela fears that she is seeing Mercy again in the shadows. But without any direct confrontation, she holds onto her hopeful denial that it’s just her nightmares and paranoia causing her visions. She doesn’t tell Moira about this, both not wanting to worry her and because of something even more concerning:

Angela misses Mercy. She wishes she didn’t, but she does. She misses the pain in a way that she feels deeply ashamed of. It was an outlet; a relief. Yes, Mercy often took things too far, especially towards the end. But the sudden complete absence of her was somehow even more unbearable. Mercy had awoken something inside of her; It was a constant itch now that Angela could not scratch herself — a dark urge that she was too frightened and ashamed of to confess to Moira that she needed fulfilled.

But even if she did tell her, Angela was not sure that Moira could do this for her. Only Mercy seemed to be able to. Only another version of herself had seemed able to reach deep enough down inside of her and hurt her enough for her to feel satisfied.

(Perhaps because only another version of her could understand how much she deserved it.) ]

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

one of the pigtails of a miku figure that a friend gifted me broke off 😢 so i redrew said figure as neru 🍜

[duskerot]

look at my vigilante brooo we're going to jail

[regulusdays]

Regulus, lying on the floor, with his head held back by the wall, dry tears all over his face, and a hand to his heart. Barty’s non-beating heart. That’s how Monty had found him. 

He was high out of his mind and can’t really tell what had happened in a cohesive manner – his mind holding together like shattered glass. That’s what hurts the most, he thinks. That he can’t recollect how it happened. The exact moment Barty’s heart stopped beating under his hand. 

The last days are all fuzzy and shapeless and borderless in his brain, and he can’t tell if it were really days or hours or weeks. The drugs took that away from him too, you see. Like taking Barty wasn’t enough.

Regulus had no idea who Monty was at the time, and he didn’t care. All he wanted was another shot and to feel Barty’s heart beating again. He got none of those things. What he got, instead, was hell – and a kind hand to hold him through it. 

From what Regulus has discovered so far, Monty – Fleamont, no last name – is a lawyer who mostly works paired with social workers, trying to help troubled kids. Not that Regulus has ever considered himself to be a troubled kid, he thinks of himself as a collected man actually, thank you very much. That is, if you disregard the part in which he got addicted to drugs and let his best friend and love of his life die in his arms. A well resolved man, even, if you will. 

Though there’s a loophole to Fleamont's story, Regulus considers, suspiciously. Regulus is a man. Legally, at least. What could social workers do for him? Aren’t they a few years too late? How, exactly, does he fit in the ‘troubled kid’ category? He has no idea, and it’s infuriating. 

He doesn’t know what his intentions are, and why he’s been keeping Regulus in this clinic – a private clinic, mind –, and it’s been driving him a bit mad. He’s tried to listen to whispers and interrogate his therapists but he hasn’t found a satisfying answer yet. 

Regulus vaguely, and he means vaguely, remembers the night Fleamont found him. He remembers being fussed at, like he’d never been before, and it was almost like- like Fleamont recognized him. 

He knows that’s stupid. He has never seen Fleamont in his life, and he has quite a memorable face. Regulus is good with faces and names, more than he would like, so he would definitely remember a man named Fleamont with a face such as his. 

It’s been the itch to Regulus’ ear ever since he got sober enough to get a hold of his bearings.

[northern-passage]

i think the hardest thing for me to write is endings.... which makes sense since i've never written any 💀 

[meownotgood]

decided to make a fantasy fic so I could write about a cute and handsome prince aki, and here I am writing extensive lore about the history of magic and devils and humans / elves instead......... lord help me

[mirai-desu]

i got addicted to a losing game; for when your OTP just doesn’t quite make it thanks to canon going to shit

YouTube Playlist Here

Duncan Lawerence - "Arcade"

A Fine Frenzy - "Almost Lover"

S10 - "De Diepte" [Translation]

Leona - "Undream You"

Krick - "Drowning in the Rain"

Cornelia Jakobs - "Hold Me Closer"

Madame Monsieur - "Ne me laisse pas" [Translation]

Tove Lo - "Habits (Stay High)"

Rosa Linn - "Snap"

A Simple Plan - "Untitled"

Yohanna - "Is It True?" Johnny Logan - "Hold Me Now"

Scala & Kolacny Brothers - "With or Without You"

Emmelie de Forest - "Only Teardrops"

Željko Joksimović - "Nije ljubav stvar" [Translation]

Les Misérables - "I Dreamed a Dream"

ABBA - "Knowing Me and Knowing You"

Rascal Flatts - "What Hurts the Most"

Björnzone - "Still the One"

ABBA - "The Winner Takes It All"

Norma John - "Blackbird"

Broods - "Never Gonna Change"

The Common Linnets - "Calm After the Storm"

Sanna Nielsen - "Undo"

Lisa Ajax - "Awful Liar"

Johnny Logan - "What's Another Year"

Adele - "Someone Like You"

Enya - "Only Time"

No Maka FT. Ana Maria - "Aceitar" [Translation]

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Delighted to announce that my story has officially reached novella length! I truly didn't think it would get this far, and didn't think I would be able to stick with it to get it this long. According to Wikipedia, a novella is 17,500-40,000 words, and I'm currently at 17,714. And I'm going to keep writing for awhile tonight. I'm just super proud of this

[bl-inkstone]

every action has an equal opposite reaction, but love and hate aren't opposites now, are they? it's love and indifference! here, traveler, have some soft childe thoughts about some of the little things you love about him that he'd never think twice about <3

walking with childe, if you asked anyone else, is a workout and a half with how long his strides tend to be. but with you? it's almost second nature for him to slow down and match your pace so that you don't have to do that awkward half-walk-half-jog the traveler and any of his shorter companions have to do when they travel with him. it doesn't even look like he's aware of it, you've noticed. it's like he's so attuned to you and your comfort that childe just adjusts himself accordingly without thinking. and he stands so close to you as well! in the early days of your friendship, the two of you would often almost trip or bump into each other with how close you'd end up being during your walks. it's something he used to apologize for ("sorry, i'm used to being close to others when walking. it's easy to lose companions in the snow if you're not careful"), but no matter how hard childe tried to keep a reasonable distance, he'd always find a way back to your side. thinking back on it now, it was really cute how he'd gravitate to your side even before either of you realized that your feelings were, very much so, requited. does that make up for all the bootprints and scuffs he's left on your shoes from walking too close though? no.

more often than not, holding hands with childe means resigning yourself to losing autonomy over whichever hand he's clinging onto for the foreseeable future. he gestures quite a bit when he talks — a habit he's picked up from watching his older siblings tell stories when he was a child and integrated into his own way of speaking as he grew older — and he can sometimes forget he's still holding your hand when he moves to gesture just how big the fishes are back in morepesok when retelling stories of his homeland to his companions. even when you're just walking in the harbor and conversing, every other statement is accompanied with a flourish of his wrists and some other grand gesture, and you usually just watch him fondly from his side. you think it's so endearing that childe never lets go of your hand, not even once, through his entire performance. he casts frequent glances your way as well when you walk and talk together this way, like he's making sure he still has your attention that he, in all his puppy-like glory, can never seem to get enough of. he squeezes your hand, rubs his thumb over your knuckles, slides his forefingers down to feel at the pulse he loves listening to at night on your wrist. he'll take any excuse to hold your hand and maintain some form of skinship, and you especially love it when it looks like he's forgotten he's still holding you but hasn't forgotten that he's connected to you. you think about telling him that, sometimes, but you don't think you'd be able to properly explain to the man the difference between the two.

eating with childe is a comfort you look forward to at the end of every day. he loves eating meals with you and just winding down together at a table that he still, sometimes, can't believe he can share with you, but what you love most about your dinners is just how domestic he can be about the whole affair. it's an unspoken agreement between you that whoever doesn't cook is the one that sets the table. when childe's the one at the stove, he can be very fussy about you not eating anything any light snacks while dinner is still cooking because "you'll ruin your appetite, honey. don't let my efforts go to waste!" he's very big on healthy and hearty meals, so you always end up pleasantly content when you go to sleep. it's so easy for you to tell when a dish is cooked by him too. but when you're the one cooking... well. he's always been the type to say things like "do as i say, not as i do." he's a menace in the kitchen, always trying to sneak "taste tests" from whatever you're cooking and chattering your ear off about his day as he goes about fulfilling his assigned role. he does set the table pretty well, thankfully, and your playful annoyance at his antics subsides just a little when you notice him placing the "nicer" china in front of your chair and opening your windows just a little to let in the cool night breeze. childe talks to you throughout the entire process, moving around you in the kitchen like it's a song he's danced with you for years even though at this point, you've only known each other for two. childe habitually leans down to press soft, chaste kisses on the side of your head when he passes by too, and it's something that never fails to send the butterflies in your stomach off in a frenzy. honestly, at this point? you might as well just come out and say that your favorite parts about eating with childe is how easy it is to see your future with him. (and if you ask him, he'd say he loves how easy it is to see his future with you too.)

[more soft childe thoughts posting! this time, about the little quirks and habits that you've noticed and find so so endearing bc even though i love childe being down atrociously bad for his beloved, the scale must be balanced. if he's a simp, the reader must simp in return.]