Self-Care Saturday (but on a Tuesday)
Rules: Look through your work and share something you're genuinely proud of. This can be from something already shared or a WIP, and can be writing, art, media, or anything else, of any size. Then tag as many people as you like to do the same. Take some time to enjoy and be proud of your own creativity today!! ✨️
I have approximately 9 billion WIPs right now so I will share a few if you don’t mind :) also tagged by the ever-lovely @junosjukebox who if you aren’t reading their work you are MISSING OUT!!!
“Huh?” George looks back at Oscar, trying not to get blown over by how beautiful he looks standing there, glowing golden in the warm rays of sunshine that seem to be shining directly on him like a heavenly spotlight. His mouth goes dry. He hasn’t wanted anyone this bad in years — maybe ever, honestly. So just his luck that this man is his fucking boss.
Oscar’s mouth is moving, but George doesn’t hear a word of it. Kimi is talking too now, toddler babble directly into his ear that goes right out the other side.
George’s skin feels wrong, all hot and itchy. His brain is moving too fast, tripping over itself trying to make sense of the seemingly infinite ways his life had changed irreparably over the past 24 hours alone, writing and rewriting itself into his skin, moving too fast for him to keep up.
2) (as of yet untitled Shailinin fic)
His head falls forward, forehead resting on Misha’s shoulder as an involuntary whine slips out.
Misha’s hand shifts, moving to card through his blonde curls with a soft reverence that sends shockwaves down his spine. “What’s wrong, Ilyushka?” He murmurs, hardly more than an exhale right beside Ilia’s ear, hand still scratching gently at his scalp.
“You make me feel so—“ he pauses, tongue-tied. He feels so much. Every nerve, every cell, screaming and singing and tugging him towards the Qazaq like a gravitational pull. Misha is the sun and Ilia is just a satellite caught in his orbit.
“So…?” Misha encourages, his other hand wrapping around Ilia’s waist, palm flat and fingers splayed on the small of his back.
“So much. Like I’m drowning and you’re the only thing filling my lungs. And it fucking burns and it might kill me but I love it too much to come up for air.”
The hand in his hair pauses. “Is that… a good thing?” He asks slowly, nudging his nose against the crown of Ilia’s head until Ilia looks up at him.
Ilia blinks a few times, languid and slow. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “It’s a lot. It scares me sometimes. But I don’t want to stop.”
Sasha leaned back, crossing her arms. “Have you considered, oh, I don’t know, talking to her about your concerns?”
“Well get good at it, or she’s gonna find someone else who actually communicates.”
Picking up her coffee again, Anetra let out a long sigh as she stared forlornly into the half empty mug. “Fine. I’ll try. What do I even say, though?”
“I say this with all the love in the world for you,” Sasha paused, making sure Anetra was looking at her. “If you can’t figure out what to say to her yourself, you aren’t ready to be in a relationship.”
Anetra blinked owlishly. “Relationship? We aren’t — I mean, that is to say—“ she paused, fidgeting with her hands. “I’d love to be in a relationship with Marcia. I like her so much it hurts. But she’s not ready for that.”
Wow that’s long but I hope they’re some fun reads :) I’ll tag a few friends to continue! @glindalesbian @sapphire-to-the-rain @the-georgia-on-my-mind @aqpippin @lulas-moon and whoever else wants to!
