#idk man. writer’s block

[soulfullives]

“sometimes, i wonder what could have been if we didn’t live during a war.”

marlene stubbed her cigarette against the heel of her boot. she and dorcas were sitting, on the cold pavement, in front of some old pub. laughter was still bubbling, even at that later hour, and glasses filled with alcohol clinked against each other.

“what would you want to have been?”

“a small apartment in london. waking up next to each other every day, not afraid of the possibility that we will never meet each other again. loving each other without being scared.”

all important, all impossible.

dorcas bit her cheek, thinking. “yeah,” she said, her voice quiet.

“what would you have wanted for us?” marlene asked, turning around to face dorcas, something they had done less and less as the time passed.

“to live.”

[keyotos]

i'm yours tonight

summary ⎯ late nights w/ dan heng. inspired by my sleepover hcs.

tana's words ⎯ having HELLA dan heng brainrot rn. also i'm getting through everyone's requests ASAP!! i just wrote this bc im having major writers block rn.

tags ⎯ fluff. unestablished relationship but the feels are there. oblivious idiot (you). reading together (real).

"psst. dan heng, are you awake?" you whispered. you were crouching down next to him on the floor, head circling his figure as you tried to find out if he was awake or not. it was the early hours of the morning and you felt slightly guilty for waking him up.

"now i am," dan heng shuffled around until he faced you. "what is it?"

"i can't sleep," you laughed dryly, "again. do you have a book i could borrow?" you stood up. dan heng wanted to pull you down by your hand so you could be back on his level. he reached out slightly and then shot his hand down.

dan heng stumbled out of his floor mattress. charming, he thought to himself. he moved towards his bookshelf as you followed him. you stood so close to dan heng that he started feeling goosebumps on his neck; the warmth of your breath making him shiver.

"what are you in the mood for today?" dan heng asked as he started browsing his shelf.

"anything, really," you sighed. "something boring? i've been having trouble sleeping for the past few days," you rubbed a hand over your temples.

"have you been alright?" dan heng swiftly turned to face you, all thoughts about the book forgotten.

"yeah," you rubbed your eyes, "i've been fine. you don't have to worry about me," you beamed through your drowsiness.

i always worry about you, he wanted to say.

"dictionary?" dan heng pulled out the book, emphasizing its thickness.

"words. perfect," you wiggled your eyebrows. you grabbed the book and flipped through a few pages. it's condition was pristine, as always.

"thanks, dan heng," you looked at the book and then looked back up to him, "hopefully i'll be able to sleep soon," you held onto the book tighter. for some reason, you wanted to stay in this room; stay with dan heng.

dan heng parted his lips, in awe of how you still look gorgeous even when you're exhausted, "no problem," he gulped, "if you need another way to sleep faster, i know a good herbal tea recipe."

"i might have to take you up on that offer one time," you smirked, "if you hear three knocks on your door, just know it's me."

dan heng laughed, "noted."

you waved goodbye and started walking out the door. you intentionally started walking slower than usual, in hopes dan heng would offer you tea right now. you didn't feel like going back to sleep, especially going back to sleep alone.

you stopped in your tracks. dan heng didn't move; he examined you, wondering if you forgot something or not.

"is it okay if i stay in here?" you turn back around, walking slightly closer to him, "i don't feel like falling asleep alone tonight."

dan heng raised his eyebrows in shock, facial expression slightly contorted, "i⎯uh. are you sure?"

hearing his reaction made you want to shrivel into your body. his confused tone made you worry, "um. yeah," you looked down at the floor, "unless you don't want me here. that's fine!" you looked back up at dan heng.

dan heng blushed at your disconcerted state, "no. you're welcome to stay if you'd like," you're welcome to stay all the time, "but my bed is uncomfortable. do you really want to stay in the archives?" he raised his eyebrows as a way to affirm your answer.

"oh!" your entire figure stood up, "i'll stay wherever you are, to be honest," you had no idea of the affect one sentence had on dan heng. while he was trying to hide his blush, you continued, "but if your bed is a problem, we'll just stay in my room."

"are you sure⎯" dan heng was cut off.

"yes," you vigorously nodded your head. "why else would i offer?" you wrapped your arm around his neck, "okay! let's move!"

dan heng keep rubbing his neck on the way to your room. when did it get so hot? luckily for him, he felt his warmth drain when he reached your room. it was freezing: definitely below (at least) 67 degrees. and then he noticed the heap of blankets lying on your bed, which explained so much.

"make yourself at home!" you waved your arms around, as if you were showing a grand prize. you flopped onto the bed and proceeded to wrap yourself in the blankets.

dan heng, on the other hand, chose to lay on top of the covers for two reasons. the first reason being, if he had gotten under the covers with you, he feared that he'd be too flustered to even face you. the second reason was he may burn up.

"are you gonna get under here?" you asked, shuffling around your mountain of blankets, "it gets really cold at night."

"i'll be fine. don't worry about me," he shrugged. as he tried to light the lamp on your nightstand, you grabbed his hand before he could turn it on.

"quoting me now?" you teased.

"i⎯" he paused. "i assure you, yn. i'll be fine," trying to hide his gaze from your eyes. your hand on his feels so blissful. your grip, so light and calming.

"and i assure you," you hold on tighter, "you're gonna be cold tonight. like, freezing. i saw your body react to when we came in here. you were about to shiver," you recognized his body language? "don't be stubborn. c'mon."

hesitantly, dan heng made his way under the covers. he could feel you next to him, your body radiating heat the blankets could not. unknowingly, he gravitated towards you, so much so that the two of you were touching knees.

"feel better now?"

"slightly, yes."

"you do," you dragged on the syllables in a sing-song way. you opened up the dictionary and began to read inside your head. well, struggling to read. it was dark and you insisted to not turn on the lights (it disrupts REM sleep, you said).

"give me that," dan heng grabbed the book out of your hands. though you try to protest, he holds the book out of your grasp.

while you try to reach for it, you end up sprawling yourself all over dan heng's body. at some point, you went from simply pressing your chest up against his to practically straddling him.

dan heng tried to take his mind off of your position; he focused on keeping the dictionary out of your hands. it was fun, teasing you. if his arm was standing in one place it would've been easier to reach, however, dan heng possessed a sense of agility you knew nothing of until tonight.

when you exhausted yourself in your efforts, you crashed down on top of dan heng. for someone who was (apparently) adept on dan heng's body language, you didn't notice how his chest was rising unevenly, how is breaths were more shallow and hitched. you concluded that his warmth occured from how many blankets were on top of him, and not the fact that you were practically centimeters away from his lips.

"how else am i supposed to sleep if i can't read," you mumbled in his ear, too worn out to talk at a normal volume.

dan heng tilted his face away from yours, scared that something would happen if he had gotten too close, "i'll read for you."

this time, you hauled yourself off of dan heng's body, now opting for leaning into his side, "how? you can't read in the dark either?" you leaned your head on your hand so you could look at dan heng. dan heng was grateful for the dark, otherwise, if not for the dark, you'd be able to see how red he was in the moment.

"i actually can," he opened the book, flipping through the pages to find the most boring words. you shook your head in disbelief; there was no way he could actually read in the dark (he could).

you shuffled through the blankets once more, trying to find the cold spot on the bed. the cold spot was nice, but it wasn't satisfactory, for you could not hear the sounds of dan heng's voice. so you leaned closer, resting your head on his shoulder yet again.

"quintessence: the most perfect or typical example of a quality or class," dan heng read out. you found that his voice started lulling you to sleep already.

"do you think people just make these words up and they just appear in the dictionary?" you slur out, consciousness slowly fading away.

dan heng softly chuckled, "maybe," he flipped through more pages, "tintinnabulation: a ringing or tinkling sound."

you laughed into his bicep, "are you sure you're not the person making these words up?"

dan heng wanted to sear your laughter into his skin, "i'm not. are you about to sleep yet?"

"i'm sleeping now," you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, "mimimimi⎯"

dan heng delicately smacked the dictionary on your face, "sleep," he stressed. when you moved yourself closer to dan heng, he couldn't help but pull you slightly closer. maybe it was the facade of exhaustion donning on him, or maybe it was because he wanted you closer.

as he felt your breathing slow and listened to you get less chatty, he knew you fell asleep. he set the dictionary aside and tilted his head down to look at you. how could one look so enchanting while sleeping? he carefully stroked your eyebrow, an endearment he used only for you, and pulled you closer into him.

when you two woke up in the morning, none of you dared to discuss how you were practically entangled and intertwined together.

bonus:

"i think that was the best sleep i've ever gotten," you laid on dan heng's shoulder. "your voice put me to sleep."

dan heng, trying to avoid even closer contact, "so are you saying my voice bores you?" he teases.

"what!?" you take your head off of his shoulder. though dan heng avoided the encounter, he wished for your head to come back down; he missed how his heart began to race with you near.

"no! your voice is just⎯ really peaceful. and calming. and nice," you try to explain yourself. when you see a slight smirk threatening to show on his face, you scowled. "it's too early for this," you playfully shoved him away from you, missing his smile on the way.

[thebookshoparoundthecorner]

I’m over-caffeinated and feeling many complicated feelings but I’m finally WRITING AGAIN

[arviyya]

Sometimes I have a lot of shit I want to say on here, and sometimes I just don't want to be perceived.

so that's my thought of the day.

[justfranzz]

Mirrors show only what is already there.

(Bloodied fists, drip drip drip-ing on the carpet.)

The mud by the beach tastes like home. Ask him how he knows.

(Home can be a house, and houses can be burned down.)

What belongs to you, but other people use it more than you do?

(Torn up knuckles; blood on the glass, glass in his skin. Equivalent exchange, he thinks.)

What's the use in having a reflection if there's no one there to see it?

(Eyes scratched out, mouth hanging agape, fists clenched and bloody at his sides.)

Time is a house, and houses can be burned down, and someone he shouldn't know has just formed an unlikely friendship with arson.

(He is not a person. He is only a reflection, an 8th grade art project, paper machê and glitter and smudged crayon.)

Immortality is to be remembered. He carries the immoralities of five strangers he knows better than himself, clutched tightly in his bloodied fists.

("What am I trying to say?" he tries to say, but seawater fills his throat and caresses his lungs.)

If this house is a home, it isn't a very good one.

(He wishes he could see anything past the blood on his hands and the scream in his chest and the little boy who wants more than anything for his dad to be proud of him.)

Riz Gukgak is looking in a mirror, and he's been the mirror all along, fingerprints buried in the glass.

(Maybe if he works a little harder, sleeps a little less, bleeds a little more, he can prove he's worthy. Of what, he doesn't know.)

Suffering is not noble. His fists will not heal, no matter how much ointment he puts on them.

(Red-soaked bandaids, piled in the kitchen garbage bin.)

If roses are red, he's growing a garden in his bathroom, dripping slowly onto the counter.

(He had never been good with plants. "Red thumb," his mom had called him. If only she could see him now.)

Riz Gukgak is a ball, and balls can only follow gravity.

(He sinks to the floor, glass digging through his jeans and biting into his knees.)

Maybe if he stays here forever, eternity will remember his name.

(What was his name again? Oh, right. Fingerprints on glass, the taste of ocean and mud. That's his name.)

A rose by any other name smells just as sweet, but all he can smell is the blood on his hands and the sharp sting of disappointment.

(It gathers in the back of his throat, bitter and grainy like the mud that tastes like home. He tries to swallow, but it grips his throat and holds him still.)

Riz Gukgak is someone, but he's not sure who.

(The name feels familiar on his tongue, but the blood is too slippery and the glass too sharp and the mud too thick. Names only matter to people who can keep them.)

He laughs, and it feels like home, just for a minute.

(Of course the mirror would shatter. Of course god is right here, reflected in the glass shards on the bathroom counter and the blood on the floor and the mud in his chest. He's known this all along. Hasn't he?)

He takes a deep breath in, dusty lungs creaking with strain. The air is heavy with all of the things he will never be able to say.

(All he tastes now is blood, and the certainty that something lies beyond the glass that taunts him. If only his fists would stop bleeding.)

Riz Gukgak is looking in a mirror, and he has been the mirror all along, and he will escape if it’s the last thing he does.

(Layer by layer, shard by shard, he will deconstruct the home he has built. Comfort is stagnation, and he has always hated being held in place.)

He decides to let his fists do the looking for him. He is so tired of the smell of blood.

(Slamming down, again and again and again until he knows his knuckles will never heal. He can’t tell who he wants to punish more, the glass or himself. Maybe they’ve been the same all along.)

Riz Gukgak is not looking in a mirror.

(He is home.)

(Based on O&T by @gilears because I still can't stop thinking about it)

[musical-chick-13]

So I guess ultimately my question is why are we assuming that Nayuta specifically meant “Denji belongs to me definitively, and you are trying to take his attention away from me?”

Aside from the fact that narrative misdirection is a thing and that I think it would completely contradict all the themes of the story thus far to just have her be Makima 2.0 and inherently evil...

We don’t actually know if she and Yoru recognize each other or not? Even on a subconscious level. If she does recognize Yoru (and, reasonably, knows how her powers work) calling Yoru a thief could have meant that “You are trying to steal Denji’s spinal cord to make a weapon” or even “You have stolen this random girl’s body to use for yourself.” (Even if she doesn’t know specifically that Yoru is sharing Asa’s body, she might still be able to tell that something weird is going on?)

She’s still a child, she might have just impulsively said the smallest amount of words that would sort-of convey what she was feeling.

I’m not worried yet.

Yet.

[mrsoharaa]

Being firmly pressed against the open window of your rented cabin, in full view of the gorgeous frosty landscape as he plummets into you with such fervor and passion is literally the only thing on my mind rn 😵‍💫😵‍💫❄️🤍💦

[mxtxfanatic]

You know what I find frustrating with Shen Jiu fans sometimes ? Just because he had reasons and maybe didn't do other things he was accused of, it feels like that either justify his behavior towards Binghe and/meant it wasn't that bad when he was so abusive ?

Shen Yuan discovers that he had reasons and a tragic backstory and never once does he try to justify his abuse, he is very much "cool backstory still hurting a child who did nothing wrong" and he has so much of this that he makes the choice for Binghe and assumes he wouldn't forgive him either for that and the abyss (when it's not his choice to make).

I wouldn’t mind people discussing the complexity of Shen Jiu if it did not come paired with the need to absolve him of his shitty personality. Shen Jiu is a serial abuser who did 100% of the things he was accused of with only some of those things having a secret intent that others didn’t know about. He does go to brothels but people just didn’t know why, he is antagonistic and physically violent towards Liu Qingge because of an imagined slight, and he has abused multiple children outside of Luo Binghe out of jealousy, so much so that many left the sect before Luo Binghe became the newest target. People trying to excuse his worst behavior because a few of his lesser actions had not-bad motivations is nonsensical, since the reason why people won’t side with him to begin with is because of his toxic personality.

A great example of just how much Shen Jiu made his own bed is the Water Prison arc. Shen Jiu gets thrown into the water prison with no defenders (yqy defends him but not his actions) because with how maliciously he treated people, no one doubted that he would act maliciously in any situation. Shen Yuan, in the same situation accused of the same crimes, gets defended almost to the point of violence breaking out, making it so that he had to willingly relinquish himself to avoid a fight, because with how kindly he acted towards everyone, no one could believe that he’d either 1) kill an entire household or 2) do so without a good reason. Neither man chooses to justify their actions or deny the accusations in the face of the scrutiny, but one is immediately condemned while the other is given the benefit of the doubt. What a massive difference.

[candy-bun-bun]

There's that one part of being a artist and a writer for us that we wanna talk about;

Alright what is up with the thing that when you're art blocked you can write again but then you get writers block and instantly can draw again??

Is that just me??

Because I want to write my ocs Jay & Ash's stories so bad but no the writers block demon throws another brick at me from atop the skyscraper >:[

Also my new ghost OC Stella,,, I need to write about her terrorizing humans so bad!!! I want to write my women's wrongs!!! I want to write her death but noooo the writers block demon chunks another brick at me!!!!

[whattimeisitfic]

Writers block and lack of motivation be hitting so hard right now HELP!

I have so many things I want to do and am envisioning doing, but this fucking chapter. I have no idea how to transition from where I just ended in Ch, 76 to where I wanna go naturally. So I’m just staring at it. Hhhhh. This is fine.

[soulfullives]

he pressed the cigarette against the ashtray and, snapping his fingers, he lit another one.

“sometimes i wonder if we ever really were in love.”

the question seeped in remus’ bones, cold and aching. sometimes he wondered that, too, but when sirius asked it, something in him dimmed.

“were we?” remus asked, and he hoped that sirius would say yes, or even maybe, because he could not bear the idea that sirius had never been in love with him, when he had hurt with love, feelings too big for his body.

“i don’t know.” it didn’t feel like the entire truth, and remus bitterly regretted that that was the first conversation they had in a long while. maybe they should have talked more often; maybe that would have saved them, in another universe.

sirius passed him his cigarette, and looked at him as he inhaled. it burned on his tongue and in his throat, but at least he felt something, after being so numb for longer than he expected to be.

“you don’t know.” it wasn’t a question; he didn’t even know what it was anymore, he just hoped it wasn’t the truth, that they hadn’t been nothing.

“no, i don’t, but i wish i did, because then it’d just be easier for both of us,” sirius answered, and his eyes didn’t meet remus’. “do you think we made a mistake?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at them.

remus bit his lip and swallowed, begging his tears not to spill. “i’d like to think that we didn’t. i love you, sirius. or i loved you. i don’t know anymore. it’s all so confusing.”

he didn’t say it back, but he reached over to him, and wiped, with his thumb, the tear that rolled down remus’ cheek. remus brought his hand to his face, placing it over sirius. maybe in another life.

the cigarette lay in the ashtray, burning away.

[rikiws]

js a heads up chat bc I've gotten so busy all of a sudden, I'll honestly disappear off the face of the earth and pull up randomly, if you're waiting on some fics and stuff please just keep that in mind because I lowk feel bad for making some of you guys wait for nothing 😭😭

[n7punk]

me: i need a break

*accidentally writes 7k in one day*

me: ...from cotc?

[stirlinqs]

i am so mad i want to write so bad and i did last night but i have so many ideas for another project and i just can’t get the words out properly on a google doc

[strwbivy]

AUGHHHHH I NEED MOTIVATION TO FINISH MY DRAFT SO BADLY 😭😭😭

[coridallasmultipass]

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