#anyways this wip is VERY old and im very mad i never got to finish it cause there is so much i want to fix -____-

[arinmoss]

Lilith wip (he/him!)

[hetacakes]

in the end, i just wanted you to be safe.

xiaolumi (xiao/alatus x lumine/ying)

the latest archon quest possessed me and i wrote this drabble at 6am

im not even kidding i woke up to write this and then went back to sleep

the latest event inspired me to finish my xiaolumi wip but it's so old that it now doesn't make sense 😭😭😭 but i can't change it or i'll have to write a whole new story basically

anyway enjoy im obsessed with xiaolumi :)

warning for a/b/o dynamics and spoilers for 2.7 archon quest

word count: 722

(look at how lumine gets angry when xiao says he can fight to the bitter end in the gif LMAO wifey angy)

   "Whoa, whoa, you wanna write a will now!?"

   It was obvious Paimon meant for her tone to be accusatory, meant for her question to jab at him, yet all Xiao could focus on was the sight of his sweet Lumine, hands on her hips and utterly cross with him.

   Never in his life did he regret saying something so soon after he said it.

   In hindsight, using the last of his energy to send the rest of the party back to the surface was not the best move. To be fair, he didn't expect to survive, to ever see his lovely mate ever again, and he was more than willing to sacrifice himself if it meant she would live, yet here he was, sitting in the grass on the hill next to Pervases' temple, Lumine facing her back to him. Yes, in hindsight, sacrificing himself was the quickest way to make his omega incredibly infuriated with him.

   As they say, hindsight is 20/20.

   "Don't be angry," he said softly, wrapping an arm around Lumine's waist and pulling her into his side.

   "..." Lumine sniffled, still ignoring him. If there was one thing he hated to see the most in the world, it was the sight of hurt and sadness flashing across his mate's face, telling him in no unclear words that he was doing a horrible job of keeping her safe and happy.

   "I'm sorry," he relented, his hand snaking up from her waist to the exposed section of her back through her dress, rubbing soothing circles into her smooth skin. "I just wanted to make sure you got out alive."

   "It'd hardly be living, it'd be torture if I had to leave my alpha behind!" Lumine huffed. At least she was answering him now, instead of giving him the silent treatment. Progress, Xiao thought to himself, progress.

    "I'm really mad at you!" His omega whined petulantly, yet he couldn't find it in himself to scold her for it. She had a point, a very valid point. "I don't want to talk to you."

That would have stung more if he didn't see right through her; the notes in her scent told him she was only mildly upset, the sharp citrus tang of anger in her scent overshadowed by the sweet floral aroma of relief and desire to cuddle up to her alpha and languish in his protective embrace. And who was he to refuse her?

"I'm sorry," he crooned, pandering for her forgiveness as he tucked her head under his chin, making sure to sweeten his scent with calming tones meant to soothe his omega, adding hints of honeyed milk to his almond tofu scent. And sure enough, the sourness in her scent disappeared as she snuggled closer to him, tucking her arms against his chest.

"That's it, good girl," he cooed, rubbing his cheek on the top of her head to scent her, drowning her in the aroma of qingxin misted in morning dew and sugar-coated almonds. The beginnings of a rumbling purr began to stir in his chest, intensifying when he heard her own responding purr just a few seconds later.

   "I'm still mad at you," Lumine whined quietly as he kissed her tears away.

   "Yes, yes, I know. I'll make it up to you later."

   "You promise?"

   "I promise. Now, sleep," he commanded gently, gathering her up in his arms and teleporting to his domain in wisps of black and green. He laid her down in their bed, watching as she slowly arranged the pillows and blankets to her liking, building a small nest to sleep in. Once she deemed it good enough for now, she climbed in, dutifully pulling her alpha in with her. Lumine gently pushed him to the bed before curling up to his side, making sure there was virtually no space to separate them anymore. He crooned in approval, praising her for being good, and smiled when she melted under the praise, her responding purr slowly petering off as the effects of such a high-strung day sapped her energy and eased her to dreamland.

   Xiao took note of her scent gradually becoming sweeter and more addictive, the toll of the recent events pulling her into an early heat.

   Yes, he thinks to himself, he'll definitely make everything up to her once they wake up.

[mirohed]

park seonghwa | the trouble with twenty

pairing: park seonghwa + fem!reader (theres ONE mention of the reader being female im kinda mad i thought this was gender neutral the whole time)

wc: 3.0k

genre: fluff and angst (but the fluff wins)

warning: mentions of death

concept: when you fall in love with someone that isn’t your soulmate, you give a piece of your soul to them; failure to find your soulmate before running out of soul to give results in one’s death + you stop physically aging when you hit the age of twenty.

a/n: ok holy shit i ,, never finish my wips 99% of the time so im glad this could b the 1% !! s/o to @akokj @cheelix @lvryeol @trulyjaehyuk & finally a big big thank you to one of my irls who’s been w it since its beginnings in early january SDHJS

The universe, you find, seems to work in mysterious ways; you meet your first boyfriend in high school. The both of you are wide-eyed teenagers with no sense of how love works, but it's fine as long as you're together. It's Jongho that sits across from you at the diner and sips from your shared milkshake. It's Jongho that takes you to drive-in theaters and plants a nervous kiss to your lips on the ride home.

It's a sweet love that blooms in the summer, a whirlwind sweeping you higher and higher, and you relish the view. Being with him comes with this sweet, bubbling feeling ("Like soda?" he had joked one afternoon) that begins in the pit of your stomach, spreading outward until you sport matching carefree grins and aching cheeks.

The year is 1939, and you're on the cusp of your nineteenth birthday when all that has gone up begins to come crashing down.

You're about to fall asleep one night when you sit up, a sharp pain shooting through your whole body. You know what this feeling is; you've had to help Jongho through it when he went through the same thing.

Everyone says losing a part of one's soul is both a tragedy and an expected outcome. You've always maintained the opinion that the universe enacts its own cruel, unusual punishment on those who love anyone besides their fated partner. Those you love more than life itself are the ones who end up killing you.

Loving Jongho burns. It sears your whole body with an inhuman heat, and your mouth opens in a silent, pained scream.

And just as quickly as it had come, the pain vanishes, leaving a faint heat under your skin.

You turn nineteen. You still live in the same town you were born in. You reexamine your life.

Growing old isn't for you; too much to do, too much to see. You're meant for things greater than wasting away as his housewife and nursing his children.

A few nights later, you disappear with nothing but a few bags, whatever fuel remains in your car, and the road ahead to keep you company.

You wish you could say you lose track of time from there, but you don't. Time passes, and the world patches itself from years of war and anger. You return to what could be considered the new normal a little hardened from harrowing times, but otherwise no worse for wear.

You spend time with others — enough to break a few hearts. The feeling of new life, pieces of other people’s souls, being breathed into skin that grows older is a high unlike any other. You push down any thoughts of love, running from town to town the second things feel too real for you. Your body stops aging, and it’s a little jarring at first, but you grow used to seeing a twenty-year-old you in the mirror, even as you age far past it.

Your friends and family are still alive and well. You write to them sometimes, letters with no return address. You know your family wants you back, wants you to find the one your soul aches for, wants you tied down. You tried to understand it, you really did, but all it got you were sympathetic looks and a divide that wedges itself deeper and deeper and deeper.

At some point you realize that the letters you wrote, once full of emotion, have become monotonous, mere updates with no real commentary. You stop writing them.

The transition from summer's vivid green to autumn's dusty orange marks your arrival in a new town. You're idly swirling a drink in your hands when you lock eyes with a leather-clad young man from across the bar.

It's 1953 when you meet Mingi. He's exhilaration, speeding down empty land on a motorcycle he keeps pristine. He's everything your parents might have frowned at, bruised and bloody knuckles that have seen one too many bar fights. You come to find that he keeps a surprisingly soft heart locked behind it, one that opens easily to you.

The two of you are on a road trip when you feel that familiar rush, and you help him pull over. He grips your hands, bites into the blanket in the backseat, until it's over. He lets you take the wheel until you reach a rest stop.

You remember the night you gave the second piece of your soul away. It's a chilly autumn night — your anniversary. You hadn't listened to him when he had told you to dress for cold weather, and you were paying the price. Shivering, you run your hands up and down your arms in an attempt to warm up as you get off his motorcycle. It doesn't work, and Mingi notices, doing his best to hide a grin.

"What did I tell you?" he teases. You're about to open your mouth for a retort when he shrugs his jacket off (that same worn leather piece you saw a year ago) and helps you fit your arms in the sleeves. It's an action he's used to, but there's something about the atmosphere tonight that makes your breath hitch. You look up at him, and he grins before leaning in.

The kiss is slow, his mouth moving languidly against yours as the city sleeps below. He pulls away first, biting back a chuckle when your lips try to follow. “I love you,” he whispers as he pulls you into his embrace.

And again, the pain that makes your blood boil. Somewhere in the haze of pain, between bunching your hands in his shirt and loud curses into the night, you tell yourself this is the last time you give your soul to another.

You feel a subtle pain in your chest as you head to the next town, leaving Mingi and the memories in the rearview mirror.

Time passes, and you see enough winters to make you sick of snow. You become the longest-lived person in known history, and it makes you famous.

You're contacted to speak about your accounts from major historical events (none of which are particularly useful), and find yourself in movies and documentaries, on talk shows, and more than once as a speaker for a new museum. There was a point where you could turn a corner and someone would recognize you as the only living "immortal."

It's one of those corners turned, on one of those countless winters, that you run into a young man. You don’t miss the way he swallows lightly before clearing his throat to apologize.

You've long since lost track of time when you meet Hongjoong. (But if you had to give an estimate, you'd put it around the 21st century.) You don't think it matters when he takes you for coffee, pulling you into a cozy corner cafe. He draws you in, little by little, and you pretend to not notice.

Where he is open, you are closed — on your fifth date, he tells you that he doesn't think he'll find his soulmate anytime soon.

("The world is too big," he says, bumping shoulders as you walk side by side. "I'm too old to keep going."

"How old?" you ask. He hums, takes a preparatory sip from his drink.

"Almost forty by now, I think."

You wonder if he's forgotten that you must be more than twice his age. Instead you say, "Really? You don't look a day over twenty." He grins at that, a beautiful thing that leads to a laugh you could never tire of hearing.)

You stay with him for much longer than you need to, long after he's given one of the last pieces of his soul to you. You wait for the "right time" to leave, but the right time never comes. Time passes. Seasons change. The two of you stay together for many winters before you finally come to your senses.

It happens one morning when you wake up shivering because he's hogged the blanket (again). As you try to reclaim it, you feel the familiar heat threaten to boil over.

You barely manage to get to the bathroom before the pain begins to crash over you in full force. After it's over, you remove your hand from your mouth, refusing to look at the tooth marks left behind.

There’s no more waiting for the right time, you think over the klaxon that blares in your head. It’s here and now.

Leaving Hongjoong is a terrifying thought, and somehow even harder to follow through with. His love isn't like Jongho's, sweet and awkward; it isn't like Mingi's, a fast-paced adrenaline rush; it's different. Softer. He reminds you of home — or at least, as home as a person can get for someone like you.

And unlike with Jongho and Mingi, the thought of staying with Hongjoong is very realistic. You've caught yourself picturing it more than once, and had to chastise yourself each time.

You pack your things for the millionth time, but as you glance back at your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend, you realize you can't just leave him without an explanation. The years you’ve spent together mean more to you than that.

Hongjoong wakes up hours later to a tear-stained letter. (By the time he finishes it, the ink is smudged and barely legible. His tears have mixed with yours in a sort of last kiss between them, and the thought causes him to sob once more.)

Joong,

If you’re reading this, I guess I must have already left. I wish things could be different I know you, and I already know that you’re gonna take this personally and blame yourself for not being enough. You are enough. You’re more than enough. I think I’m just selfish

Anyway I just want to thank you for...everything. The past few years have been better than I can express, and I think that’s what scares me. You’re the You’ll find your soulmate soon, whether they’re your meant to be or not. I’m sorry it couldn’t be me.

I love you.

Goodbye.

You definitely keep your guard up after that. Through every date you go on and every significant other you burn through, your walls stay up.

You've grown nostalgic over the past decade. Using the wildly advanced technology of who-knows-when, you track down a list of death sites.

You visit your family first. Your heart breaks a bit seeing the empty space in the shared family headstone. This was where you were supposed to be laid to rest. You turn away from the dilapidated cemetery, pulling up the coordinates to your next destination.

You find yourself staring at the fountain in the middle of a shopping mall. According to your holotech, this is where Jongho is buried. Your lips form a disapproving line as you close your eyes and try not to think about how he would have loved this place. You try not to think about him taking you here and nudging you in the direction of the arcade or food court as you rush out the doors.

They've gone and built a neighborhood over the cemetery where you would have found Mingi. From the looks of it, it looks like its residents are particularly affluent, and you can hear him snort in your ear. Even after years apart, you swear you can still smell the strong scent of cigarettes that followed him like a lost puppy. He would have hated his fate, and you offer a morbid chuckle in his memory.

You're crouched beside Hongjoong's tombstone, running a thumb over the warm stone. The birds chirp amongst themselves in a nearby tree, and you're thankful for the distraction. He wasn't buried with another person; you hope he managed to find someone regardless. You read the inscription — To you, forever and always — and swallow the lump of guilt that’s lodged itself in your throat.

It's on a calm spring morning that your holo rings. The centennial edition of a documentary you were in is currently being filmed, and the staff is requesting you interview with them again. You were going to accept anyway, but the producer piques your interest when she mentions another similarly...long-lived person. The trepidation in her voice is obvious, but you ignore it. Instead, you ask for the name of this immortal and to be interviewed with them. ("I thought I was the only one around," you had laughed into the phone. "It'd be good to make a new friend." The producer gave a pitying hum before agreeing.)

You try to search for any evidence of this new immortal, but come up with virtually nothing. You're more than a little disappointed that this person isn't milking their age for all it's worth, but you suppose they’re just more private than you are; after all, their existence is a relatively recent discovery.

When you first meet Seonghwa, you find it difficult to breathe. He's handsome, with a tall frame and a cute smile that would have caught your eye regardless.

Seeing him also hits you with a feeling you've dreaded for hundreds of years that makes your chest tighten. (In hindsight, you should have known exactly who he had to be, considering his similarly long life.) When you make eye contact, you can tell he feels the same immediate attraction. He has the audacity to smile.

"Finally," he murmurs. It's reverent, as if he's finally fulfilled his life's purpose. Your clench your jaw, ball your hands into fists so tight your knuckles go white, and narrow your eyes. Your heart's going a mile a minute, and you're choosing to interpret it as anger.

You've spent centuries building your fame on a foundation of nothing but broken hearts and your own ambition, and for what?

You're not sure how old you are when you find yourself on the downswing. You know that your body will start to physically age, and in about sixty years, you will have met the same fate as everyone you've left behind. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but you swallow it, at least for the time being.

The interview goes off without a hitch, and you make to leave after thanking the staff when —

"Wait!" Biting back a curse, you continue moving (and make an effort to go faster). Unfortunately, Seonghwa's more than capable of keeping up with you.

"Look," he begins, running a hand through his hair, "I don't claim to know your relationship situation, but I'd at least like it if we were friends." He focuses on the polished toe of his shoe and gives an anxious chuckle that seems to be more for himself than you. "After all, we're soulmates. You might not believe in them, but I've imagined what it would be like to finally meet my soulmate since I was young."

You don't know how (you blame the universe), but you go out for lunch with him after that. Much of the meal is spent in silence (although you've got to take the blame for this one), and it's not until you're almost done that he strikes up a conversation.

"Were you hiding?" He twists the straw of his drink between two fingers before making eye contact.

"I don't hide. You've probably seen me around in some ad or another on the holo. Maybe even before that, when people still used computers and printed newspapers." He narrows his eyes a bit, trying to remember, but comes up with nothing. "I always thought it was you that hid. I've been all over the world, but this was the first time I've ever heard news of another immortal."

"I believe in fate. I've taken things as they came because I knew that in the end, it would be you and me. Turns out I was right."

You don't know how (you're still blaming the universe), but you exchange contact information. You go on more...friendly excursions with Seonghwa.

("Why not cut out the middleman and call them dates?" he asks, settling down on the couch next to you.

"They're not dates. We're not together, are we?" You turn the movie on, marking the end of the conversation.

When you fall asleep latched onto his arm, your head on his shoulder, he plants a soft kiss on your forehead. You wake up that morning wrapped in a blanket that wasn't there last night.)

You don't know how (actually, you do), but "friendly excursions" eventually turn into dates.

(The two of you sit at a park bench, listening to rustling leaves and the distant noise of cars passing.

"Is this a date?" you ask, taking a spoonful of his ice cream, your own sitting empty on your lap.

"They're not dates," Seonghwa parrots. "We're not together, are we?"

"Let's change that. Date me?"

"I thought you'd never ask.")

Dating Seonghwa is much like being wrapped in a warm blanket. He's caring and sweet and so thoughtful that it makes your head spin. You realize that somewhere along the way, you had lost the joy and wonder that came with life. Luckily for you, each date (whether it's a shared pizza in his apartment or a hike somewhere new) restores an optimism that you didn’t know you missed.

Decades pass, and the two of you are on your daily walk. Your bodies start to show their age, but when you look in the mirror, you still see youth alight in your eyes.

("When we first met, I thought that it was all downhill from there, but I was proven wrong."

"It's been a long time since I've heard you say you were wrong."

"And each time, I tell you to not get used to it.")

When the life slips away from you both, you promise to meet each other in the next life and every one that follows.

The universe, as mysteriously as it may work, hears this request and tucks it away, ready to see it through.

[elliot-orion]

Writeblr Re-Intro

I’ve seen quite a few people do this in the past couple weeks so i figure i probably should too considering how stinking long its been. so. hi there! I’m Elliot, and I use they/them pronouns! I’m a college kid majoring in creative writing and anthropology and regret doing both. I have a 9 year old emotional support cat, Van Gogh, who enjoys snoring, getting fur in my mouth, and chewing on my headphones. In addition to writing, I crochet amigurumis, play flight rising, bake like mad, obsess over dragons and stuffed animals, and spend way too much time thinking about superheroes. 

I mostly write LGBT+ Young Adult/New Adult fiction, and recently published my first novel, “Sparks Fly.” You can see a tumblr summary of it here. “Sparks Fly” and the majority of my stories take place in the expansive Dark Heart Universe full of not so heroic Super Heroes and Super Villains with questionable but not necessarily bad morals. But I like to dabble all over and have WIPs including a horror duology, a scifi roadtrip story, and about 800 other WIPs that are going nowhere because I’m a pantser and that’s how i roll. Expect to see me name drop some characters or a story, tag it in one ask game, and then never mention it again rather frequently. I apologize in advance. The main stories you will actually see me mentioning a bunch are below the cut. 

I technically have a website, and I technically have a twitter, but the former is a mess because I can’t program or remember to regularly blog and the latter i never use because social media scares me. Think there’s like 10 tweets on it and all of them are niche shitposts about my stories so... yea. I do have a Pinterest though, where you can find boards for most of my stories as well as a few of the name dropped once stories. so that’s fun. This intro is a mess.... Anyways, below the cut are some quick summaries of my main WIPs. If you want to learn more about the world that half of these are a part of (the DHU), look through this tag because my only summary series of it is way out of date. 

Woodsmoke

A DHU novel. Woodsmoke is a Hero who 100% should not be going to the worst Villain in town, Stardust, for help, but fuck it he doesnt have any other option. In return for helping Woodsmoke save a whole bunch of school kids, Stardust demands Woodsmoke owes him a favor - he has to help Stardust and his gang get rid of the Director of the city’s Supers Association branch. The only probably is, the Director control everything, and Woodsmoke is utterly terrified of him. But, he owes a favor, and he’s even more afraid of what Stardust could do to civilians than he is of what the Director could do to him. When it all goes wrong, maybe its time for him to give up being a Hero and stop being Woodsmoke. Maybe it’s time to just be Vincent again, and finally heal from the damage the SA has done. This is on its fourth draft and still needs about 2 or so more (guessing here), but will hopefully be the next DHU book released (dont quote me on that im winging this)

Nightmare at the Lily Pad Inn 

A DHU novel. Ben, who’s technically a Villain but really just can’t control their powers for shit and their powers are like, really scary so its bad, is on the run from their sociopathic asshole brother. They wind up at the Lily Pad Inn, a safe haven for Villains no matter what they’ve done, run by the cinnamon roll sweetheart Matty and their husband, Blue. While there, Ben meets Oliver, another not-technically-bad Super who can’t control his powers, and meets up with Morty, their best friend. Shit happens i guess idk i’ve not written a real summary for this one yet leave me alone. It’s on the first draft and its not even finished and i have no idea what the ending is because im a pantser go away.

Novella Collection

A DHU collection i guess. I’m not quite sure what else to call this because it’s made of three or so different novellas that I intend to fit together into a collection of novellas. The three novellas includes: the Empath, about Charlie who may just be the worlds most powerful empath and his partners who are very not happy with their area’s Director wanting Charlie to do something that could 100% kill him; Hell in High Heels, a historical DHU story about the Terra (Kitty), the Earth Elemental of the time, and Fer-De-Lance (Hattie), the Poison Elemental, and how they get married sorta unwillingly (thanks SA), break a shit ton of stereotypes, and help win World War 2.; and finally Wildfire, about the current day Fire Elemental and the Villain he really shouldn’t be so attracted to but 100% is and them chilling and being gay and idk this one needs a lot of work. All of these novellas have only had 1 draft and are still needing a lot of work. 

And now for some not dhu stories... 

The Other Beings / The Doll Maker

This is that horror duology I mentioned earlier. The Other Beings follow Nathan. He got sucked into the terrifying world of the Other Beings (well, 5 worlds actually),  when he was 7 years old because of a brother he’s never quite forgiven for making him and his pseudo-sister Hazel hunt minor Beings for his whole childhood and fucking Nate up massively. He managed to leave the horror of the Other Beings for all of seven years before he was sucked back in by the Doll Maker, an Other Being with a penchant for turning pretty children and people into ball-jointed dolls. Turns out a horde of Other Beings is coming after him because of his dad which is a Bad and now he’s having to run as a human macguffin and trust me - he’s not happy about it. Only the Other Beings draft 1 has been written because it’s a dark story and with covid i have not have the mental energy to work on it more, but it’s super fun and i adore it. The Doll Maker, the second book, is solely about Doll Maker and his shit. 

Paper Stars 

Paper Stars is the scifi I mentioned, and just might be one of my favorite things I’ve ever written, even though its only had one draft because it’s hella depressing (literally, the mc River is seriously suicidal) and with all the shit in my life rn i haven’t had the strength to work on it more. but i adore the story. Basically, River’s life has gone to hell since his Grandpa died and the only thing making him hold on is really his alien best friend, Keio. When his depression gets even worse, he finally asks Keio to take him away from Earth and to space to escape his problems. This works, kinda, i mean he falls in love and shit (yes River falls in love with a seal furry alien, please go through the tag its great), but eventually he knows he has to face his problems and get help because this is a realistic story about depression and love doesnt cure all and you cant run from mental illness. It’s great. 

That’s kinda all the main stories i mention a lot, all the others are little things i start and stop or that i write a self indulgent first draft but never intend to take it any further. all of these i fully intend to publish one day tho. So... yea. Welcome to my blog, its chaos but we have a good time.